heroes and hero worship-第43节

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me。　　Madame　de　Stael　has　something　of　it；　St。　Pierre；　and　down　onwards　to　the　present　astonishing　convulsionary　〃Literature　of　Desperation；〃　it　is　everywhere　abundant。　　That　same　_rose…pink_　is　not　the　right　hue。　　Look　at　a　Shakspeare；　at　a　Goethe；　even　at　a　Walter　Scott！　　He　who　has　once　seen　into　this；　has　seen　the　difference　of　the　True　from　the　Sham…True；　and　will　discriminate　them　ever　afterwards。

We　had　to　observe　in　Johnson　how　much　good　a　Prophet；　under　all　disadvantages　and　disorganizations；　can　accomplish　for　the　world。　　In　Rousseau　we　are　called　to　look　rather　at　the　fearful　amount　of　evil　which；　under　such　disorganization；　may　accompany　the　good。　　Historically　it　is　a　most　pregnant　spectacle；　that　of　Rousseau。　　Banished　into　Paris　garrets；　in　the　gloomy　company　of　his　own　Thoughts　and　Necessities　there；　driven　from　post　to　pillar；　fretted；　exasperated　till　the　heart　of　him　went　mad；　he　had　grown　to　feel　deeply　that　the　world　was　not　his　friend　nor　the　world's　law。　It　was　expedient；　if　any　way　possible；　that　such　a　man　should　_not_　have　been　set　in　flat　hostility　with　the　world。　　He　could　be　cooped　into　garrets；　laughed　at　as　a　maniac；　left　to　starve　like　a　wild　beast　in　his　cage；but　he　could　not　be　hindered　from　setting　the　world　on　fire。　　The　French　Revolution　found　its　Evangelist　in　Rousseau。　　His　semi…delirious　speculations　on　the　miseries　of　civilized　life；　the　preferability　of　the　savage　to　the　civilized；　and　such　like；　helped　well　to　produce　a　whole　delirium　in　France　generally。　　True；　you　may　well　ask；　What　could　the　world；　the　governors　of　the　world；　do　with　such　a　man？　　Difficult　to　say　what　the　governors　of　the　world　could　do　with　him！　　What　he　could　do　with　them　is　unhappily　clear　enough；_guillotine_　a　great　many　of　them！　　Enough　now　of　Rousseau。


It　was　a　curious　phenomenon；　in　the　withered；　unbelieving　second…hand　Eighteenth　Century；　that　of　a　Hero　starting　up；　among　the　artificial　pasteboard　figures　and　productions；　in　the　guise　of　a　Robert　Burns。　　Like　a　little　well　in　the　rocky　desert　places；like　a　sudden　splendor　of　Heaven　in　the　artificial　Vauxhall！　　People　knew　not　what　to　make　of　it。　　They　took　it　for　a　piece　of　the　Vauxhall　fire…work；　alas；　it　_let_　itself　be　so　taken；　though　struggling　half…blindly；　as　in　bitterness　of　death；　against　that！　　Perhaps　no　man　had　such　a　false　reception　from　his　fellow…men。　　Once　more　a　very　wasteful　life…drama　was　enacted　under　the　sun。

The　tragedy　of　Burns's　life　is　known　to　all　of　you。　　Surely　we　may　say；　if　discrepancy　between　place　held　and　place　merited　constitute　perverseness　of　lot　for　a　man；　no　lot　could　be　more　perverse　then　Burns's。　　Among　those　second…hand　acting…figures；　_mimes_　for　most　part；　of　the　Eighteenth　Century；　once　more　a　giant　Original　Man；　one　of　those　men　who　reach　down　to　the　perennial　Deeps；　who　take　rank　with　the　Heroic　among　men：　　and　he　was　born　in　a　poor　Ayrshire　hut。　　The　largest　soul　of　all　the　British　lands　came　among　us　in　the　shape　of　a　hard…handed　Scottish　Peasant。

His　Father；　a　poor　toiling　man；　tried　various　things；　did　not　succeed　in　any；　was　involved　in　continual　difficulties。　　The　Steward；　Factor　as　the　Scotch　call　him；　used　to　send　letters　and　threatenings；　Burns　says；　〃which　threw　us　all　into　tears。〃　　The　brave；　hard…toiling；　hard…suffering　Father；　his　brave　heroine　of　a　wife；　and　those　children；　of　whom　Robert　was　one！　In　this　Earth；　so　wide　otherwise；　no　shelter　for　_them_。　　The　letters　〃threw　us　all　into　tears：〃　　figure　it。　　The　brave　Father；　I　say　always；a　_silent_　Hero　and　Poet；　without　whom　the　son　had　never　been　a　speaking　one！　Burns's　Schoolmaster　came　afterwards　to　London；　learnt　what　good　society　was；　but　declares　that　in　no　meeting　of　men　did　he　ever　enjoy　better　discourse　than　at　the　hearth　of　this　peasant。　　And　his　poor　〃seven　acres　of　nursery…ground；〃not　that；　nor　the　miserable　patch　of　clay…farm；　nor　anything　he　tried　to　get　a　living　by；　would　prosper　with　him；　he　had　a　sore　unequal　battle　all　his　days。　　But　he　stood　to　it　valiantly；　a　wise；　faithful；　unconquerable　man；swallowing　down　how　many　sore　sufferings　daily　into　silence；　fighting　like　an　unseen　Hero；nobody　publishing　newspaper　paragraphs　about　his　nobleness；　voting　pieces　of　plate　to　him！　However；　he　was　not　lost；　nothing　is　lost。　　Robert　is　there　the　outcome　of　him；and　indeed　of　many　generations　of　such　as　him。

This　Burns　appeared　under　every　disadvantage：　　uninstructed；　poor；　born　only　to　hard　manual　toil；　and　writing；　when　it　came　to　that；　in　a　rustic　special　dialect；　known　only　to　a　small　province　of　the　country　he　lived　in。　Had　he　written；　even　what　he　did　write；　in　the　general　language　of　England；　I　doubt　not　he　had　already　become　universally　recognized　as　being；　or　capable　to　be；　one　of　our　greatest　men。　　That　he　should　have　tempted　so　many　to　penetrate　through　the　rough　husk　of　that　dialect　of　his；　is　proof　that　there　lay　something　far　from　common　within　it。　　He　has　gained　a　certain　recognition；　and　is　continuing　to　do　so　over　all　quarters　of　our　wide　Saxon　world：　　wheresoever　a　Saxon　dialect　is　spoken；　it　begins　to　be　understood；　by　personal　inspection　of　this　and　the　other；　that　one　of　the　most　considerable　Saxon　men　of　the　Eighteenth　Century　was　an　Ayrshire　Peasant　named　Robert　Burns。　　Yes；　I　will　say；　here　too　was　a　piece　of　the　right　Saxon　stuff：　　strong　as　the　Harz…rock；　rooted　in　the　depths　of　the　world；rock；　yet　with　wells　of　living　softness　in　it！　　A　wild　impetuous　whirlwind　of　passion　and　faculty　slumbered　quiet　there；　such　heavenly　_melody_　dwelling　in　the　heart　of　it。　　A　noble　rough　genuineness；　homely；　rustic；　honest；　true　simplicity　of　strength；　with　its　lightning…fire；　with　its　soft　dewy　pity；like　the　old　Norse　Thor；　the　Peasant…god！

Burns's　Brother　Gilbert；　a　man　of　much　sense　and　worth；　has　told　me　that　Robert；　in　his　young　days；　in　spite　of　their　hardship；　was　usually　the　gayest　of　speech；　a　fellow　of　infinite　frolic；　laughter；　sense　and　heart；　far　pleasanter　to　hear　there；　stript　cutting　peats　in　the　bog；　or　such　like；　than　he　ever　afterwards　knew　him。　　I　can　well　believe　it。　　This　basis　of　mirth　（〃_fond　gaillard_；〃　as　old　Marquis　Mirabeau　calls　it）；　a　primal　element　of　sunshine　and　joyfulness；　coupled　with　his　other　deep　and　earnest　qualities；　is　one　of　the　most　attractive　characteristics　of　Burns。　　A　large　fund　of　Hope　dwells　in　him；　spite　of　his　tragical　history；　he　is　not　a　mourning　man。　　He　shakes　his　sorrows　gallantly　aside；　bounds　forth　victorious　over　them。　　It　is　as　the　lion　shaking　〃dew…drops　from　his　mane；〃　as　the　swift…bounding　horse；　that　_laughs_　at　the　shaking　of　the　spear。But　indeed；　Hope；　Mirth；　of　the　sort　like　Burns's；　are　they　not　the　outcome　properly　of　warm　generous　affection；such　as　is　the　beginning　of　all　to　every　man？

You　would　think　it　strange　if　I　called　Burns　the　most　gifted　British　soul　we　had　in　all　that　century　of　his：　　and　yet　I　believe　the　day　is　coming　when　there　will　be　little　danger　in　saying　so。　　His　writings；　all　that　he　_did_　under　such　obstructions；　are　only　a　poor　fragment　of　him。　　Professor　Stewart　remarked　very　justly；　what　indeed　is　true　of　all　Poets　good　for　much；　that　his　poetry　was　not　any　particular　faculty；　but　the　general　result　of　a　naturally　vigorous　original　mind　expressing　itself　in　that　way。　Burns's　gifts；　expressed　in　conversation；　are　the　theme　of　all　that　ever　heard　him。　　All　kinds　of　gifts：　　from　the　gracefulest　utterances　of　courtesy；　to　the　highest　fire　of　passionate　speech；　loud　floods　of　mirth；　soft　wailings　of　affection；　laconic　emphasis；　clear　piercing　insight；　all　was　in　him。　　Witty　duchesses　celebrate　him　as　a　man　whose　speech　〃led　them　off　their　feet。〃　　This　is　beautiful：　　but　still　more　beautiful　that　which　Mr。　Lockhart　has　recorded；　which　I　have　more　than　once　alluded　to；　How　the　waiters　and　ostlers　at　inns　would　get　out　of　bed；　and　come　crowding　to　hear　this　man　speak！　　Waiters　and　ostlers：they　too　were　men；　and　here　was　a　man！　　I　have　heard　much　about　his　speech；　but　one　of　the　best　things　I　ever　heard　of　it　was；　last　year；　from　a　venerable　gentleman　long　familiar　with　him。　　That　it　was　speech　distinguished　by　always　_having　something　in　it_。　〃He　spoke　rather　little　than　much；〃　this　old　man　told　me；　〃sat　rather　silent　in　those　early　days；　as　in　the　company　of　persons　above　him；　and　always　when　he　did　speak；　it　was　to　throw　new　light　on　the　matter。〃　　I　know　not　why　any　one　should　ever　speak　otherwise！But　if　we　look　at　his　general　force　of　soul；　his　healthy　_robustness_　every　way；　the　rugged　downrightness；　penetration；　generous　valor　and　manfulness　that　was　in　him；where　shall　we　readily　find　a　better…gifted　man？

Among　the　great　men　of　the　Eighteenth　Century；　I　sometimes　feel　as　if　Burns　might　be　found　to　resemble　Mirabeau　more　than　any　other。　　They　differ　widely　in　vesture；　yet　look　at　them　intrinsically。　　There　is　the　same　burly　thick…necked　strength　of　body　as　of　soul；built；　in　both　cases；　on　what　the　old　Marquis　calls　a　_fond　gaillard_。　　By　nature；　by　course　of　breeding；　indeed　by　nation；　Mirabeau　has　much　more　of　bluster；　a　noisy；　forward；　unresting　man。　　But　the　characteristic　of　Mirabeau　too　is　veracity　and　sense；　power　of　true　_insight_；　superiority　of　vision。　　The　thing　that　he　says　is　worth　remembering。　　It　is　a　flash　of　insight　in