the poet at the breakfast table-第19节

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hat　a　little　too　much　on　one　side；　as　they　do　here　and　there　along
the　Connecticut　River；　and　sometimes　on　our　city　sidewalks；　when
they've　got　a　new　beaver；　they　got　him；　I　say；　to　give　us　boys　and
girls　lessons　in　dancing　and　deportment。　　He　was　as　gray　and　as
lively　as　a　squirrel；　as　I　remember　him；　and　used　to　spring　up　in　the
air　and　〃cross　his　feet；〃　as　we　called　it；　three　times　before　he　came
down。　　Well；　at　the　end　of　each　term　there　was　what　they　called　an
〃exhibition　ball；〃　in　which　the　scholars　danced　cotillons　and
country…dances；　also　something　called　a　〃gavotte；〃　and　I　think　one　or
more　walked　a　minuet。　　But　all　this　is　not　whatI　wanted　to　say。　　At
this　exhibition　ball　he　used　to　bring　out　a　number　of　hoops　wreathed
with　roses；　of　the　perennial　kind；　by　the　aid　of　which　a　number　of
amazingly　complicated　and　startling　evolutions　were　exhibited；　and
also　his　two　daughters；　who　figured　largely　in　these　evolutions；　and
whose　wonderful　performances　to　us；　who　had　not　seen　Miss　Taglioni　or
Miss　Elssler；　were　something　quite　bewildering；　in　fact；　surpassing
the　natural　possibilities　of　human　beings。　　Their　extraordinary
powers　were；　however；　accounted　for　by　the　following　explanation；
which　was　accepted　in　the　school　as　entirely　satisfactory。　　A　certain
little　bone　in　the　ankles　of　each　of　these　young　girls　had　been
broken　intentionally；　secundum　artem；　at　a　very　early　age；　and　thus
they　had　been　fitted　to　accomplish　these　surprising　feats　which　threw
the　achievements　of　the　children　who　were　left　in　the　condition　of
the　natural　man　into　ignominious　shadow。

Thank　you；said　I；you　have　helped　out　my　illustration　so　as　to
make　it　better　than　I　expected。　　Let　me　begin　again。　　Every　poem　that
is　worthy　of　the　name；　no　matter　how　easily　it　seems　to　be　written；
represents　a　great　amount　of　vital　force　expended　at　some　time　or
other。　　When　you　find　a　beach　strewed　with　the　shells　and　other
spoils　that　belonged　once　to　the　deep　sea；　you　know　the　tide　has　been
there；　and　that　the　winds　and　waves　have　wrestled　over　its　naked
sands。　　And　so；　if　I　find　a　poem　stranded　in　my　soul　and　have　nothing
to　do　but　seize　it　as　a　wrecker　carries　off　the　treasure　he　finds
cast　ashore；　I　know　I　have　paid　at　some　time　for　that　poem　with　some
inward　commotion；　were　it　only　an　excess　of　enjoyment；　which　has　used
up　just　so　much　of　my　vital　capital。　　But　besides　all　the　impressions
that　furnished　the　stuff　of　the　poem；　there　has　been　hard　work　to　get
the　management　of　that　wonderful　instrument　I　spoke　of；…the　great
organ；　language。　　An　artist　who　works　in　marble　or　colors　has　them
all　to　himself　and　his　tribe；　but　the　man　who　moulds　his　thought　in
verse　has　to　employ　the　materials　vulgarized　by　everybody's　use；　and
glorify　them　by　his　handling。　　I　don't　know　that　you　must　break　any
bones　in　a　poet's　mechanism　before　his　thought　can　dance　in　rhythm；
but　read　your　Milton　and　see　what　training；　what　patient　labor；　it
took　before　he　could　shape　our　common　speech　into　his　majestic
harmonies。

It　is　rather　singular；　but　the　same　kind　of　thing　has　happened　to　me
not　very　rarely　before；　as　I　suppose　it　has　to　most　persons；　that
just　when　I　happened　to　be　thinking　about　poets　and　their　conditions；
this　very　morning；　I　saw　a　paragraph　or　two　from　a　foreign　paper
which　is　apt　to　be　sharp；　if　not　cynical；　relating　to　the　same
matter。　　I　can't　help　it；　I　want　to　have　my　talk　about　it；　and　if　I
say　the　same　things　that　writer　did；　somebody　else　can　have　the
satisfaction　of　saying　I　stole　them　all。

＇I　thought　the　person　whom　I　have　called　hypothetically　the　Man　of
Letters　changed　color　a　little　and　betrayed　a　certain　awkward
consciousness　that　some　of　us　were　looking　at　him　or　thinking　of　him；
but　I　am　a　little　suspicious　about　him　and　may　do　him　wrong。＇

That　poets　are　treated　as　privileged　persons　by　their　admirers　and
the　educated　public　can　hardly　be　disputed。　　That　they　consider
themselves　so　there　is　no　doubt　whatever。　　On　the　whole；　I　do　not
know　so　easy　a　way　of　shirking　all　the　civic　and　social　and　domestic
duties；　as　to　settle　it　in　one's　mind　that　one　is　a　poet。　　I　have；
therefore；　taken　great　pains　to　advise　other　persons　laboring　under
the　impression　that　they　were　gifted　beings；　destined　to　soar　in　the
atmosphere　of　song　above　the　vulgar　realities　of　earth；　not　to
neglect　any　homely　duty　under　the　influence　of　that　impression。　　The
number　of　these　persons　is　so　great　that　if　they　were　suffered　to
indulge　their　prejudice　against　every…day　duties　and　labors；　it　would
be　a　serious　loss　to　the　productive　industry　of　the　country。　　My
skirts　are　clear　（so　far　as　other　people　are　concerned）　of
countenancing　that　form　of　intellectual　opium…eating　in　which　rhyme
takes　the　place　of　the　narcotic。　　But　what　are　you　going　to　do　when
you　find　John　Keats　an　apprentice　to　a　surgeon　or　apothecary？　　Is　n't
it　rather　better　to　get　another　boy　to　sweep　out　the　shop　and　shake
out　the　powders　and　stir　up　the　mixtures；　and　leave　him　undisturbed
to　write　his　Ode　on　a　Grecian　Urn　or　to　a　Nightingale？　　Oh　yes；　the
critic　I　have　referred　to　would　say；　if　he　is　John　Keats；　but　not　if
he　is　of　a　much　lower　grade；　even　though　he　be　genuine；　what　there　is
of　him。　　But　the　trouble　is；　the　sensitive　persons　who　belong　to　the
lower　grades　of　the　poetical　hierarchy　do　notknow　their　own
poetical　limitations；　while　they　do　feel　a　natural　unfitness　and
disinclination　for　many　pursuits　which　young　persons　of　the　average
balance　of　faculties　take　to　pleasantly　enough。　　What　is　forgotten　is
this；　that　every　real　poet；　even　of　the　humblest　grade；　is　an　artist。
Now　I　venture　to　say　that　any　painter　or　sculptor　of　real　genius；
though　he　may　do　nothing　more　than　paint　flowers　and　fruit；　or　carve
cameos；　is　considered　a　privileged　person。　　It　is　recognized
perfectly　that　to　get　his　best　work　he　must　be　insured　the　freedom
from　disturbances　which　the　creative　power　absolutely　demands；　more
absolutely　perhaps　in　these　slighter　artists　than　in　the　great
masters。　　His　nerves　must　be　steady　for　him　to　finish　a　rose…leaf　or
the　fold　of　a　nymph's　drapery　in　his　best　manner；　and　they　will　be
unsteadied　if　he　has　to　perform　the　honest　drudgery　which　another　can
do　for　him　quite　as　well。　　And　it　is　just　so　with　the　poet；　though　he
were　only　finishing　an　epigram；　you　must　no　more　meddle　roughly　with
him　than　you　would　shake　a　bottle　of　Chambertin　and　expect　the
〃sunset　glow〃　to　redden　your　glass　unclouded。　　On　the　other　hand；　it
may　be　said　that　poetry　is　not　an　article　of　prime　necessity；　and
potatoes　are。　　There　is　a　disposition　in　many　persons　just　now　to
deny　the　poet　his　benefit　of　clergy；　and　to　hold　him　no　better　than
other　people。　　Perhaps　he　is　not；　perhaps　he　is　not　so　good；　half　the
time；　but　he　is　a　luxury；　and　if　you　want　him　you　must　pay　for　him；
by　not　trying　to　make　a　drudge　of　him　while　he　is　all　his　lifetime
struggling　with　the　chills　and　heats　of　his　artistic　intermittent
fever。


There　may　have　been　some　lesser　interruptions　during　the　talk　I　have
reported　as　if　it　was　a　set　speech；　but　this　was　the　drift　of　what　I
said　and　should　have　said　if　the　other　man；　in　the　Review　I　referred
to；　had　not　seen　fit　to　meddle　with　the　subject；　as　some　fellow
always　does；　just　about　the　time　when　I　am　going　to　say　something
about　it。　　The　old　Master　listened　beautifully；　except　for　cutting　in
once；　as　I　told　you　he　did。　　But　now　he　had　held　in　as　long　as　it　was
in　his　nature　to　contain　himself；　and　must　have　his　say　or　go　off　in
an　apoplexy；　or　explode　in　some　way。　I　think　you're　right　about　the
poets；he　said。　They　are　to　common　folks　what　repeaters　are　to
ordinary　watches。　　They　carry　music　in　their　inside　arrangements；　but
they　want　to　be　handled　carefully　or　you　put　them　out　of　order。　　And
perhaps　you　must　n't　expect　them　to　be　quite　as　good　timekeepers　as
the　professional　chronometer　watches　that　make　a　specialty　of　being
exact　within　a　few　seconds　a　month。　　They　think　too　much　of
themselves。　　So　does　everybody　that　considers　himself　as　having　a
right　to　fall　back　on　what　he　calls　his　idiosyncrasy。　　Yet　a　man　has
such　a　right；　and　it　is　no　easy　thing　to　adjust　the　private　claim　to
the　fair　public　demand　on　him。　　Suppose　you　are　subject　to　tic
douloureux；　for　instance。　　Every　now　and　then　a　tiger　that　nobody　can
see　catches　one　side　of　your　face　between　his　jaws　and　holds　on　till
he　is　tired　and　lets　go。　　Some　concession　must　be　made　to　you　on　that
score；　as　everybody　can　see。　　It　is　fair　to　give　you　a　seat　that　is
not　in　the　draught；　and　your　friends　ought　not　to　find　fault　with　you
if　you　do　not　care　to　join　a　party　that　is　going　on　a　sleigh…ride。
Now　take　a　poet　like　Cowper。　　He　had　a　mental　neuralgia；　a　great　deal
worse　in　many　respects　than　tic　douloureux　confined　to　the　face。　　It
was　well　that　he　was　sheltered　and　relieved；　by　the　cares　of　kind
friends；　especially　those　good　women；　from　as　many　of　the　burdens　of
life　as　they　could　lift　off　from　him。　　I　am　fair　to　the　poets；don't
you　agree　that　I　am？

Why；　yes；I　said；you　have　stated　the　case　fairly　enough；　a　good
deal　as　I　should　have　put　it　myself。

Now；　then；the　Master　continued；I　'll　tell　you　what　is　necess