a personal record-第28章

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preserve　a　rigid　immobility　for　fear　of　overturning　the　little



two…legged　creature。　　She　has　never　seen　your　resigned　smile　when



the　little　two…legged　creature；　interrogated；　sternly；　〃What　are



you　doing　to　the　good　dog？〃　answers；　with　a　wide；　innocent　stare：



〃Nothing。　　Only　loving　him；　mamma　dear！〃







The　general's　daughter　does　not　know　the　secret　terms　of



self…imposed　tasks；　good　dog；　the　pain　that　may　lurk　in　the　very



rewards　of　rigid　self…command。　　But　we　have　lived　together　many



years。　　We　have　grown　older；　too；　and　though　our　work　is　not



quite　done　yet　we　may　indulge　now　and　then　in　a　little



introspection　before　the　firemeditate　on　the　art　of　bringing　up



babies　and　on　the　perfect　delight　of　writing　tales　where　so　many



lives　come　and　go　at　the　cost　of　one　which　slips　imperceptibly



away。











VI　







In　the　retrospect　of　a　life　which　had；　besides　its　preliminary



stage　of　childhood　and　early　youth；　two　distinct　developments；



and　even　two　distinct　elements；　such　as　earth　and　water；　for　its



successive　scenes；　a　certain　amount　of　naiveness　is　unavoidable。　



I　am　conscious　of　it　in　these　pages。　　This　remark　is　put　forward



in　no　apologetic　spirit。　As　years　go　by　and　the　number　of　pages



grows　steadily；　the　feeling　grows　upon　one；　too；　that　one　can



write　only　for　friends。　　Then　why　should　one　put　them　to　the



necessity　of　protesting　（as　a　friend　would　do）　that　no　apology　is



necessary；　or　put；　perchance；　into　their　heads　the　doubt　of　one's



discretion？　　So　much　as　to　the　care　due　to　those　friends　whom　a



word　here；　a　line　there；　a　fortunate　page　of　just　feeling　in　the



right　place；　some　happy　simplicity；　or　even　some　lucky　subtlety；



has　drawn　from　the　great　multitude　of　fellow　beings　even　as　a



fish　is　drawn　from　the　depths　of　the　sea。　　Fishing　is　notoriously



（I　am　talking　now　of　the　deep　sea）　a　matter　of　luck。　　As　to　one's



enemies；　they　will　take　care　of　themselves。







There　is　a　gentleman；　for　instance；　who；　metaphorically　speaking；



jumps　upon　me　with　both　feet。　　This　image　has　no　grace；　but　it　is



exceedingly　apt　to　the　occasionto　the　several　occasions。　　I



don't　know　precisely　how　long　he　has　been　indulging　in　that



intermittent　exercise；　whose　seasons　are　ruled　by　the　custom　of



the　publishing　trade。　　Somebody　pointed　him　out　（in　printed



shape；　of　course）　to　my　attention　some　time　ago；　and　straightway



I　experienced　a　sort　of　reluctant　affection　for　that　robust　man。　



He　leaves　not　a　shred　of　my　substance　untrodden：　for　the　writer's



substance　is　his　writing；　the　rest　of　him　is　but　a　vain　shadow；



cherished　or　hated　on　uncritical　grounds。　　Not　a　shred！　　Yet　the



sentiment　owned　to　is　not　a　freak　of　affectation　or　perversity。　



It　has　a　deeper；　and；　I　venture　to　think；　a　more　estimable　origin



than　the　caprice　of　emotional　lawlessness。　　It　is；　indeed；



lawful；　in　so　much　that　it　is　given　（reluctantly）　for　a



consideration；　for　several　considerations。　　There　is　that



robustness；　for　instance；　so　often　the　sign　of　good　moral



balance。　　That's　a　consideration。　　It　is　not；　indeed；　pleasant　to



be　stamped　upon；　but　the　very　thoroughness　of　the　operation；



implying　not　only　a　careful　reading；　but　some　real　insight　into



work　whose　qualities　and　defects；　whatever　they　may　be；　are　not



so　much　on　the　surface；　is　something　to　be　thankful　for　in　view



of　the　fact　that　it　may　happen　to　one's　work　to　be　condemned



without　being　read　at　all。　　This　is　the　most　fatuous　adventure



that　can　well　happen　to　a　writer　venturing　his　soul　among



criticisms。　　It　can　do　one　no　harm；　of　course；　but　it　is



disagreeable。　　It　is　disagreeable　in　the　same　way　as　discovering



a　three…card…trick　man　among　a　decent　lot　of　folk　in　a



third…class　compartment。　　The　open　impudence　of　the　whole



transaction；　appealing　insidiously　to　the　folly　and　credulity　of



man　kind；　the　brazen；　shameless　patter；　proclaiming　the　fraud



openly　while　insisting　on　the　fairness　of　the　game；　give　one　a



feeling　of　sickening　disgust。　　The　honest　violence　of　a　plain　man



playing　a　fair　game　fairlyeven　if　he　means　to　knock　you



overmay　appear　shocking；　but　it　remains　within　the　pale　of



decency。　　Damaging　as　it　may　be；　it　is　in　no　sense　offensive。　



One　may　well　feel　some　regard　for　honesty；　even　if　practised　upon



one's　own　vile　body。　　But　it　is　very　obvious　that　an　enemy　of



that　sort　will　not　be　stayed　by　explanations　or　placated　by



apologies。　　Were　I　to　advance　the　plea　of　youth　in　excuse　of　the



naiveness　to　be　found　in　these　pages；　he　would　be　likely　to　say



〃Bosh！〃　in　a　column　and　a　half　of　fierce　print。　　Yet　a　writer　is



no　older　than　his　first　published　book；　and；　not　withstanding　the



vain　appearances　of　decay　which　attend　us　in　this　transitory



life；　I　stand　here　with　the　wreath　of　only　fifteen　short　summers



on　my　brow。







With　the　remark；　then；　that　at　such　tender　age　some　naiveness　of



feeling　and　expression　is　excusable；　I　proceed　to　admit　that；



upon　the　whole；　my　previous　state　of　existence　was　not　a　good



equipment　for　a　literary　life。　Perhaps　I　should　not　have　used　the



word　literary。　　That　word　presupposes　an　intimacy　of　acquaintance



with　letters；　a　turn　of　mind；　and　a　manner　of　feeling　to　which　I



dare　lay　no　claim。　　I　only　love　letters；　but　the　love　of　letters



does　not　make　a　literary　man；　any　more　than　the　love　of　the　sea



makes　a　seaman。　　And　it　is　very　possible；　too；　that　I　love　the



letters　in　the　same　way　a　literary　man　may　love　the　sea　he　looks



at　from　the　shorea　scene　of　great　endeavour　and　of　great



achievements　changing　the　face　of　the　world；　the　great　open　way



to　all　sorts　of　undiscovered　countries。　　No；　perhaps　I　had　better



say　that　the　life　at　seaand　I　don't　mean　a　mere　taste　of　it；



but　a　good　broad　span　of　years；　something　that　really　counts　as



real　serviceis　not；　upon　the　whole；　a　good　equipment　for　a



writing　life。　　God　forbid；　though；　that　I　should　be　thought　of　as



denying　my　masters　of　the　quarter…deck。　　I　am　not　capable　of　that



sort　of　apostasy。　　I　have　confessed　my　attitude　of　piety　toward



their　shades　in　three　or　four　tales；　and　if　any　man　on　earth　more



than　another　needs　to　be　true　to　himself　as　he　hopes　to　be　saved；



it　is　certainly　the　writer　of　fiction。







What　I　meant　to　say；　simply；　is　that　the　quarter…deck　training



does　not　prepare　one　sufficiently　for　the　reception　of　literary



criticism。　　Only　that；　and　no　more。　　But　this　defect　is　not



without　gravity。　　If　it　be　permissible　to　twist；　invert；　adapt



（and　spoil）　Mr。　Anatole　France's　definition　of　a　good　critic；



then　let　us　say　that　the　good　author　is　he　who　contemplates



without　marked　joy　or　excessive　sorrow　the　adventures　of　his　soul



among　criticisms。　　Far　be　from　me　the　intention　to　mislead　an



attentive　public　into　the　belief　that　there　is　no　criticism　at



sea。　　That　would　be　dishonest；　and　even　impolite。　　Ever　thing　can



be　found　at　sea；　according　to　the　spirit　of　your　queststrife；



peace；　romance；　naturalism　of　the　most　pronounced　kind；　ideals；



boredom；　disgust；　inspirationand　every　conceivable　opportunity；



including　the　opportunity　to　make　a　fool　of　yourself；　exactly　as



in　the　pursuit　of　literature。　　But　the　quarter…deck　criticism　is



somewhat　different　from　literary　criticism。　　This　much　they　have



in　common；　that　before　the　one　and　the　other　the　answering　back；



as　a　general　rule；　does　not　pay。







Yes；　you　find　criticism　at　sea；　and　even　appreciationI　tell　you



everything　is　to　be　found　on　salt　watercriticism　generally



impromptu；　and　always　viva　voce；　which　is　the　outward；　obvious