the poet at the breakfast table-第33章

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slanted　downward　into　oblivion　so　sweetly　and　softly　that　she　would
have　never　known　when　it　reached　that　harmless　consummation。

Our　epizoic　literature　is　becoming　so　extensive　that　nobody　is　safe
from　its　ad　infinitum　progeny。　　A　man　writes　a　book　of　criticisms。　　A
Quarterly　Review　criticises　the　critic。　　A　Monthly　Magazine　takes　up
the　critic's　critic。　　A　Weekly　Journal　criticises　the　critic　of　the
critic's　critic；　and　a　daily　paper　favors　us　with　some　critical
remarks　on　the　performance　of　the　writer　in　the　Weekly；　who　has
criticised　the　critical　notice　in　the　Monthly　of　the　critical　essay
in　the　Quarterly　on　the　critical　work　we　started　with。　　And　thus　we
see　that　as　each　flea　〃has　smaller　fleas　that　on　him　prey；〃　even　the
critic　himself　cannot　escape　the　common　lot　of　being　bitten。　　Whether
all　this　is　a　blessing　or　a　curse；　like　that　one　which　made　Pharaoh
and　all　his　household　run　to　their　toilet…tables；　is　a　question　about
which　opinions　might　differ。　　The　physiologists　of　the　time　of　Moses
if　there　were　vivisectors　other　than　priests　in　those　dayswould
probably　have　considered　that　other　plague；　of　the　frogs；　as　a
fortunate　opportunity　for　science；　as　this　poor　little　beast　has　been
the　souffre…douleur　of　experimenters　and　schoolboys　from　time
immemorial。

But　there　is　a　form　of　criticism　to　which　none　will　object。　　It　is
impossible　to　come　before　a　public　so　alive　with　sensibilities　as
this　we　live　in；　with　the　smallest　evidence　of　a　sympathetic
disposition；　without　making　friends　in　a　very　unexpected　way。
Everywhere　there　are　minds　tossing　on　the　unquiet　waves　of　doubt。　　If
you　confess　to　the　same　perplexities　and　uncertainties　that　torture
them；　they　are　grateful　for　your　companionship。　　If　you　have　groped
your　way　out　of　the　wilderness　in　which　you　were　once　wandering　with
them；　they　will　follow　your　footsteps；　it　may　be；　and　bless　you　as
their　deliverer。　　So；　all　at　once；　a　writer　finds　he　has　a　parish　of
devout　listeners；　scattered；　it　is　true；　beyond　the　reach　of　any
summons　but　that　of　a　trumpet　like　the　archangel's；　to　whom　his
slight　discourse　may　be　of　more　value　than　the　exhortations　they　hear
from　the　pulpit；　if　these　last　do　not　happen　to　suit　their　special
needs。　　Young　men　with　more　ambition　and　intelligence　than　force　of
character；　who　have　missed　their　first　steps　in　life　and　are
stumbling　irresolute　amidst　vague　aims　and　changing　purposes；　hold
out　their　hands；　imploring　to　be　led　into；　or　at　least　pointed
towards；　some　path　where　they　can　find　a　firm　foothold。　　Young　women
born　into　a　chilling　atmosphere　of　circumstance　which　keeps　all　the
buds　of　their　nature　unopened　and　always　striving　to　get　to　a　ray　of
sunshine；　if　one　finds　its　way　to　their　neighborhood；　tell　their
stories；　sometimes　simply　and　touchingly；　sometimes　in　a　more　or　less
affected　and　rhetorical　way；　but　still　stories　of　defeated　and
disappointed　instincts　which　ought　to　make　any　moderately　impressible
person　feel　very　tenderly　toward　them。

In　speaking　privately　to　these　young　persons；　many　of　whom　have
literary　aspirations；　one　should　be　very　considerate　of　their　human
feelings。　　But　addressing　them　collectively　a　few　plain　truths　will
not　give　any　one　of　them　much　pain。　　Indeed；　almost　every　individual
among　them　will　feel　sure　that　he　or　she　is　an　exception　to　those
generalities　which　apply　so　well　to　the　rest。

If　I　were　a　literary　Pope　sending　out　an　Encyclical；　I　would　tell
these　inexperienced　persons　that　nothing　is　so　frequent　as　to　mistake
an　ordinary　human　gift　for　a　special　and　extraordinary　endowment。
The　mechanism　of　breathing　and　that　of　swallowing　are　very　wonderful；
and　if　one　had　seen　and　studied　them　in　his　own　person　only；　he　might
well　think　himself　a　prodigy。　　Everybody　knows　these　and　other　bodily
faculties　are　common　gifts；　but　nobody　except　editors　and　school…
teachers　and　here　and　there　a　literary　than　knows　how　common　is　the
capacity　of　rhyming　and　prattling　in　readable　prose；　especially　among
young　women　of　a　certain　degree　of　education。　　In　my　character　of
Pontiff；　I　should　tell　these　young　persons　that　most　of　them　labored
under　a　delusion。　　It　is　very　hard　to　believe　it；　one　feels　so　full
of　intelligence　and　so　decidedly　superior　to　one's　dull　relations　and
schoolmates；　one　writes　so　easily　and　the　lines　sound　so　prettily　to
one's　self；　there　are　such　felicities　of　expression；　just　like　those
we　hear　quoted　from　the　great　poets；　and　besides　one　has　been　told　by
so　many　friends　that　all　one　had　to　do　was　to　print　and　be　famous！
Delusion；　my　poor　dear；　delusion　at　least　nineteen　times　out　of
twenty；　yes；　ninety…nine　times　in　a　hundred。

But　as　private　father　confessor；　I　always　allow　as　much　as　I　can　for
the　one　chance　in　the　hundred。　　I　try　not　to　take　away　all　hope；
unless　the　case　is　clearly　desperate；　and　then　to　direct　the
activities　into　some　other　channel。

Using　kind　language；　I　can　talk　pretty　freely。　　I　have　counselled
more　than　one　aspirant　after　literary　fame　to　go　back　to　his　tailor's
board　or　his　lapstone。　　I　have　advised　the　dilettanti；　whose　foolish
friends　praised　their　verses　or　their　stories；　to　give　up　all　their
deceptive　dreams　of　making　a　name　by　their　genius；　and　go　to　work　in
the　study　of　a　profession　which　asked　only　for　the　diligent　use　of
average；　ordinary　talents。　　It　is　a　very　grave　responsibility　which
these　unknown　correspondents　throw　upon　their　chosen　counsellors。
One　whom　you　have　never　seen；　who　lives　in　a　community　of　which　you
know　nothing；　sends　you　specimens　more　or　less　painfully　voluminous
of　his　writings；　which　he　asks　you　to　read　over；　think　over；　and　pray
over；　and　send　back　an　answer　informing　him　whether　fame　and　fortune
are　awaiting　him　as　the　possessor　of　the　wonderful　gifts　his　writings
manifest；　and　whether　you　advise　him　to　leave　all；the　shop　he
sweeps　out　every　morning；　the　ledger　he　posts；　the　mortar　in　which　he
pounds；　the　bench　at　which　he　urges　the　reluctant　plane；and　follow
his　genius　whithersoever　it　may　lead　him。　　The　next　correspondent
wants　you　to　mark　out　a　whole　course　of　life　for　him；　and　the　means
of　judgment　he　gives　you　are　about　as　adequate　as　the　brick　which　the
simpleton　of　old　carried　round　as　an　advertisement　of　the　house　he
had　to　sell。　　My　advice　to　all　the　young　men　that　write　to　me　depends
somewhat　on　the　handwriting　and　spelling。　　If　these　are　of　a　certain
character；　and　they　have　reached　a　mature　age；　I　recommend　some
honest　manual　calling；　such　as　they　have　very　probably　been　bred　to；
and　which　will；　at　least；　give　them　a　chance　of　becoming　President　of
the　United　States　by　and　by；　if　that　is　any　object　to　them。　　What
would　you　have　done　with　the　young　person　who　called　on　me　a　good
many　years　ago；　so　many　that　he　has　probably　forgotten　his　literary
effort；and　read　as　specimens　of　his　literary　workmanship　lines　like
those　which　I　will　favor　you　with　presently？　　He　was　an　able…bodied；
grown…up　young　person；　whose　ingenuousness　interested　me；　and　I　am
sure　if　I　thought　he　would　ever　be　pained　to　see　his　maiden　effort　in
print；　I　would　deny　myself　the　pleasure　of　submitting　it　to　the
reader。　　The　following　is　an　exact　transcript　of　the　lines　he　showed
me；　and　which　I　took　down　on　the　spot：

　　　　〃Are　you　in　the　vein　for　cider？
　　　　　Are　you　in　the　tune　for　pork　？
　　　　　Hist！　　for　Betty's　cleared　the　larder
　　　　　And　turned　the　pork　to　soap。〃

Do　not　judge　too　hastily　this　sincere　effort　of　a　maiden　muse。　　Here
was　a　sense　of　rhythm；　and　an　effort　in　the　direction　of　rhyme；　here
was　an　honest　transcript　of　an　occurrence　of　daily　life；　told　with　a
certain　idealizing　expression；　recognizing　the　existence　of　impulses；
mysterious　instincts；　impelling　us　even　in　the　selection　of　our
bodily　sustenance。　　But　I　had　to　tell　him　that　it　wanted　dignity　of
incident　and　grace　of　narrative；　that　there　was　no　atmosphere　to　it；
nothing　of　the　light　that　never　was　and　so　forth。　　I　did　not　say　this
in　these　very　words；　but　I　gave　him　to　understand；　without　being　too
hard　upon　him；　that　he　had　better　not　desert　his　honest　toil　in
pursuit　of　the　poet's　bays。　　This；　it　must　be　confessed；　was　a　rather
discouraging　case。　　A　young　p