the poet at the breakfast table-第29章

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ingenious　clock…work　arrangement。　　No　place；　short　of　the　temple　of
the　living　God；　can　be　more　solemn。　　The　jars　of　the　restless　life
around　it　do　not　disturb　the　serene　intelligence　of　the　half…
reasoning　apparatus。　　Nothing　can　stir　the　massive　pier　but　the
shocks　that　shake　the　solid　earth　itself。　　When　an　earthquake　thrills
the　planet；　the　massive　turret　shudders　with　the　shuddering　rocks　on
which　it　rests；　but　it　pays　no　heed　to　the　wildest　tempest；　and　while
the　heavens　are　convulsed　and　shut　from　the　eye　of　the　far…seeing
instrument　it　waits　without　a　tremor　for　the　blue　sky　to　come　back。
It　is　the　type　of　the　true　and　steadfast　man　of　the　Roman　poet；　whose
soul　remains　unmoved　while　the　firmament　cracks　and　tumbles　about
him。　　It　is　the　material　image　of　the　Christian；　his　heart　resting　on
the　Rock　of　Ages；　his　eye　fixed　on　the　brighter　world　above。

I　did　not　say　all　this　while　we　were　looking　round　among　these
wonders；　quite　new　to　many　of　us。　　People　don't　talk　in　straight…off
sentences　like　that。　　They　stumble　and　stop；　or　get　interrupted；
change　a　word；　begin　again；　miss　connections　of　verbs　and　nouns；　and
so　on；　till　they　blunder　out　their　meaning。　　But　I　did　let　fall　a
word　or　two；　showing　the　impression　the　celestial　laboratory　produced
upon　me。　　I　rather　think　I　must　own　to　the　〃Rock　of　Ages〃　comparison。
Thereupon　the　〃Man　of　Letters；〃　so　called；　took　his　pipe　from　his
mouth；　and　said　that　he　did　n't　go　in　〃for　sentiment　and　that　sort　of
thing。　　Gush　was　played　out。〃

The　Member　of　the　Haouse；　who；　as　I　think；　is　not　wanting　in　that
homely　good　sense　which　one　often　finds　in　plain　people　from　the
huckleberry　districts；　but　who　evidently　supposes　the　last　speaker　to
be　what　he　calls　〃a　tahlented　mahn；〃　looked　a　little　puzzled。　　My
remark　seemed　natural　and　harmless　enough　to　him；　I　suppose；　but　I
had　been　distinctly　snubbed；　and　the　Member　of　the　Haouse　thought　I
must　defend　myself；　as　is　customary　in　the　deliberative　body　to　which
he　belongs；　when　one　gentleman　accuses　another　gentleman　of　mental
weakness　or　obliquity。　　I　could　not　make　up　my　mind　to　oblige　him　at
that　moment　by　showing　fight。　　I　suppose　that　would　have　pleased　my
assailant；　as　I　don't　think　he　has　a　great　deal　to　lose；　and　might
have　made　a　little　capital　out　of　me　if　he　could　have　got　a　laugh　out
of　the　Member　or　either　of　the　dummies；I　beg　their　pardon　again；　I
mean　the　two　undemonstrative　boarders。　　But　I　will　tell　you；　Beloved；
just　what　I　think　about　this　matter。

We　poets；　you　know；　are　much　given　to　indulging　in　sentiment；　which
is　a　mode　of　consciousness　at　a　discount　just　now　with　the　new
generation　of　analysts　who　are　throwing　everything　into　their
crucibles。　　Now　we　must　not　claim　too　much　for　sentiment。　　It　does
not　go　a　great　way　in　deciding　questions　of　arithmetic；　or　algebra；
or　geometry。　　Two　and　two　will　undoubtedly　make　four；　irrespective　of
the　emotions　or　other　idiosyncrasies　of　the　calculator；　and　the　three
angles　of　a　triangle　insist　on　being　equal　to　two　right　angles；　in
the　face　of　the　most　impassioned　rhetoric　or　the　most　inspired　verse。
But　inasmuch　as　religion　and　law　and　the　whole　social　order　of
civilized　society；　to　say　nothing　of　literature　and　art；　are　so
founded　on　and　pervaded　by　sentiment　that　they　would　all　go　to　pieces
without　it；　it　is　a　word　not　to　be　used　too　lightly　in　passing
judgment；　as　if　it　were　an　element　to　be　thrown　out　or　treated　with
small　consideration。　　Reason　may　be　the　lever；　but　sentiment　gives
you　the　fulcrum　and　the　place　to　stand　on　if　you　want　to　move　the
world。　　Even　〃sentimentality；〃　which　is　sentiment　overdone；　is　better
than　that　affectation　of　superiority　to　human　weakness　which　is　only
tolerable　as　one　of　the　stage　properties　of　full…blown　dandyism；　and
is；　at　best；　but　half…blown　cynicism；　which　participle　and　noun　you
can　translate；　if　you　happen　to　remember　the　derivation　of　the　last
of　them；　by　a　single　familiar　word。　　There　is　a　great　deal　of　false
sentiment　in　the　world；　as　there　is　of　bad　logic　and　erroneous
doctrine；　butit　is　very　much　less　disagreeable　to　hear　a　young　poet
overdo　his　emotions；　or　even　deceive　himself　about　them；　than　to　hear
a　caustic…epithet　flinger　repeating　such　words　as　〃sentimentality〃
and　〃entusymusy；〃one　of　the　least　admirable　of　Lord　Byron's
bequests　to　our　language；for　the　purpose　of　ridiculing　him　into
silence。　　An　overdressed　woman　is　not　so　pleasing　as　she　might　be；
but　at　any　rate　she　is　better　than　the　oil　of　vitriol　squirter；　whose
profession　it　is　to　teach　young　ladies　to　avoid　vanity　by　spoiling
their　showy　silks　and　satins。

The　Lady　was　the　first　of　our　party　who　was　invited　to　look　through
the　equatorial。　　Perhaps　this　world　had　proved　so　hard　to　her　that
she　was　pained　to　think　that　other　worlds　existed；　to　be　homes　of
suffering　and　sorrow。　　Perhaps　she　was　thinking　it　would　be　a　happy
change　when　she　should　leave　this　dark　planet　for　one　of　those
brighter　spheres。　　She　sighed；　at　any　rate；　but　thanked　the　Young
Astronomer　for　the　beautiful　sights　he　had　shown　her；　and　gave　way　to
the　next　comer；　who　was　That　Boy；　now　in　a　state　of　irrepressible
enthusiasm　to　see　the　Man　in　the　Moon。　　He　was　greatly　disappointed
at　not　making　out　a　colossal　human　figure　moving　round　among　the
shining　summits　and　shadowy　ravines　of　the　〃spotty　globe。〃

The　Landlady　came　next　and　wished　to　see　the　moon　also；　in　preference
to　any　other　object。　　She　was　astonished　at　the　revelations　of　the
powerful　telescope。　　Was　there　any　live　creatures　to　be　seen　on　the
moon？　she　asked。　　The　Young　Astronomer　shook　his　head；　smiling　a
little　at　the　question。　Was　there　any　meet'n'…houses？　　There　was　no
evidence；　he　said；　that　the　moon　was　inhabited。　　As　there　did　not
seem　to　be　either　air　or　water　on　its　surface；　the　inhabitants　would
have　a　rather　hard　time　of　it；　and　if　they　went　to　meeting　the
sermons　would　be　apt　to　be　rather　dry。　　If　there　were　a　building　on
it　as　big　as　York　minster；　as　big　as　the　Boston　Coliseum；　the　great
telescopes　like　Lord　Rosse's　would　make　it　out。　　But　it　seemed　to　be
a　forlorn　place；　those　who　had　studied　it　most　agreed　in　considering
it　a　〃cold；　crude；　silent；　and　desolate〃　ruin　of　nature；　without　the
possibility；　if　life　were　on　it；　of　articulate　speech；　of　music；　even
of　sound。　　Sometimes　a　greenish　tint　was　seen　upon　its　surface；　which
might　have　been　taken　for　vegetation；　but　it　was　thought　not
improbably　to　be　a　reflection　from　the　vast　forests　of　South　America。
The　ancients　had　a　fancy；　some　of　them；　that　the　face　of　the　moon　was
a　mirror　in　which　the　seas　and　shores　of　the　earth　were　imaged。　　Now
we　know　the　geography　of　the　side　toward　us　about　as　well　as　that　of
Asia；　better　than　that　of　Africa。　　The　Astronomer　showed　them　one　of
the　common　small　photographs　of　the　moon。　　He　assured　them　that　he
had　received　letters　inquiring　in　all　seriousness　if　these　alleged
lunar　photographs　were　not　really　taken　from　a　peeled　orange。　　People
had　got　angry　with　him　for　laughing　at　them　for　asking　such　a
question。　　Then　he　gave　them　an　account　of　the　famous　moon…hoax　which
came　out；　he　believed；　in　1835。　　It　was　full　of　the　most　bare…faced
absurdities；　yet　people　swallowed　it　all；　and　even　Arago　is　said　to
have　treated　it　seriously　as　a　thing　that　could　not　well　be　true；　for
Mr。　Herschel　would　have　certainly　notified　him　of　these　marvellous
discoveries。　　The　writer　of　it　had　not　troubled　himself　to　invent
probabilities；　but　had　borrowed　his　scenery　from　the　Arabian　Nights
and　his　lunar　inhabitants　from　Peter　Wilkins。

After　this　lecture　the　Capitalist　stepped　forward　and　applied　his　eye
to　the　lens。　　I　suspect　it　to　have　been　shut　most　of　the　time；　for　I
observe　a　good　many　elderly　people　adjust　the　organ　of　vision　to　any
optical　instrument　in　that　way。　　I　suppose　it　is　from　the　instinct　of
protection　to　the　eye；　the　same　instinct　as　that　which　makes　the　raw
militia…man　close　it　when　he　pulls　the；　trigger　of　his　musket　the
first　time。　　He　expressed　himself　highly　gratified；　however；　with
what　he　saw；　and　retired　from　the　instrument　to　make　room　for　the
Young　Girl。

She　threw　her　hair　back　and　took　her　position　at　the　ins