the works of edgar allan poe-5-第33章

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Shakespeare　a　great　poet…yet　the　fool　has　never　read　Shakespeare。　But　the
fool's　neighbor；　who　is　a　step　higher　on　the　Andes　of　the　mind；　whose　head
（that　is　to　say；　his　more　exalted　thought）　is　too　far　above　the　fool　to　be
seen　or　understood；　but　whose　feet　（by　which　I　mean　his　everyday　actions）
are　sufficiently　near　to　be　discerned；　and　by　means　of　which　that
superiority　is　ascertained；　which　but　for　them　would　never　have　been
discovered…this　neighbor　asserts　that　Shakespeare　is　a　great　poetthe
fool　believes　him；　and　it　is　henceforward　his　_opinion。　_This　neighbor's
own　opinion　has；　in　like　manner；　been　adopted　from　one　above　him；　and　so；
ascendingly；　to　a　few　gifted　individuals　who　kneel　around　the　summit；
beholding；　face　to　face；　the　master　spirit　who　stands　upon　the　pinnacle。

〃You　are　aware　of　the　great　barrier　in　the　path　of　an　American　writer。　He
is　read；　if　at　all；　in　preference　to　the　combined　and　established　wit　of
the　world。　I　say　established；　for　it　is　with　literature　as　with　law　or
empire…an　established　name　is　an　estate　in　tenure；　or　a　throne　in
possession。　Besides；　one　might　suppose　that　books；　like　their　authors；
improve　by　travel…their　having　crossed　the　sea　is；　with　us；　so　great　a
distinction。　Our　antiquaries　abandon　time　for　distance；　our　very　fops
glance　from　the　binding　to　the　bottom　of　the　title…page；　where　the　mystic
characters　which　spell　London；　Paris；　or　Genoa；　are　precisely　so　many
letters　of　recommendation。

〃I　mentioned　just　now　a　vulgar　error　as　regards　criticism。　I　think　the
notion　that　no　poet　can　form　a　correct　estimate　of　his　own　writings　is
another。　I　remarked　before　that　in　proportion　to　the　poetical　talent　would
be　the　justice　of　a　critique　upon　poetry。　Therefore　a　bad　poet　would；　I
grant；　make　a　false　critique；　and　his　self…love　would　infallibly　bias　his
little　judgment　in　his　favor；　but　a　poet；　who　is　indeed　a　poet；　could　not；
I　think；　fail　of　making…a　just　critique；　whatever　should　be　deducted　on
the　score　of　self…love　might　be　replaced　on　account　of　his　intimate
acquaintance　with　the　subject；　in　short；　we　have　more　instances　of　false
criticism　than　of　just　where　one's　own　writings　are　the　test；　simply
because　we　have　more　bad　poets　than　good。　There　are；　of　course；　many
objections　to　what　I　say：　Milton　is　a　great　example　of　the　contrary；　but
his　opinion　with　respect　to　the　'Paradise　Regained'　is　by　no　means　fairly
ascertained。　By　what　trivial　circumstances　men　are　often　led　to　assert
what　they　do　not　really　believe！　Perhaps　an　inadvertent　word　has　descended
to　posterity。　But；　in　fact；　the　'Paradise　Regained'　is　little；　if　at　all；
inferior　to　the　'Paradise　Lost；'　and　is　only　supposed　so　to　be　because　men
do　not　like　epics；　whatever　they　may　say　to　the　contrary；　and；　reading
those　of　Milton　in　their　natural　order；　are　too　much　wearied　with　the
first　to　derive　any　pleasure　from　the　second。

〃I　dare　say　Milton　preferred　'Comus'　to　either…。　if　so…justly。

〃As　I　am　speaking　of　poetry；　it　will　not　be　amiss　to　touch　slightly　upon
the　most　singular　heresy　in　its　modern　history…the　heresy　of　what　is
called；　very　foolishly；　the　Lake　School。　Some　years　ago　I　might　have　been
induced；　by　an　occasion　like　the　present；　to　attempt　a　formal　refutation
of　their　doctrine；　at　present　it　would　be　a　work　of　supererogation。　The
wise　must　bow　to　the　wisdom　of　such　men　as　Coleridge　and　Southey；　but；
being　wise；　have　laughed　at　poetical　theories　so　prosaically　exemplifled。

〃Aristotle；　with　singular　assurance；　has　declared　poetry　the　most
philosophical　of　all　writings*…but　it　required　a　Wordsworth　to　pronounce
it　the　most　metaphysical。　He　seems　to　think　that　the　end　of　poetry　is；　or
should　be；　instruction；　yet　it　is　a　truism　that　the　end　of　our　existence
is　happiness；　if　so；　the　end　of　every　separate　part　of　our　existence；
everything　connected　with　our　existence；　should　be　still　happiness。
Therefore　the　end　of　instruction　should　be　happiness；　and　happiness　is
another　name　for　pleasure；…therefore　the　end　of　instruction　should　be
pleasure：　yet　we　see　the　above…mentioned　opinion　implies　precisely　the
reverse。

〃To　proceed：　_ceteris　paribus；　_be　who　pleases　is　of　more　importance　to
his　fellow…men　than　he　who　instructs；　since　utility　is　happiness；　and
pleasure　is　the　end　already　obtained　which　instruction　is　merely　the　means
of　obtaining。

〃I　see　no　reason；　then；　why　our　metaphysical　poets　should　plume　themselves
so　much　on　the　utility　of　their　works；　unless　indeed　they　refer　to
instruction　with　eternity　in　view；　in　which　case；　sincere　respect　for
their　piety　would　not　allow　me　to　express　my　contempt　for　their　judgment；
contempt　which　it　would　be　difficult　to　conceal；　since　their　writings　are
professedly　to　be　understood　by　the　few；　and　it　is　the　many　who　stand　in
need　of　salvation。　In　such　case　I　should　no　doubt　be　tempted　to　think　of
the　devil　in　'Melmoth。'　who　labors　indefatigably；　through　three　octavo
volumes；　to　accomplish　the　destruction　of　one　or　two　souls；　while　any
common　devil　would　have　demolished　one　or　two　thousand。

〃Against　the　subtleties　which　would　make　poetry　a　study…not　a　passion…it
becomes　the　metaphysician　to　reason…but　the　poet　to　protest。　Yet
Wordsworth　and　Coleridge　are　men　in　years；　the　one　imbued　in　contemplation
from　his　childhood；　the　other　a　giant　in　intellect　and　learning。　The
diffidence；　then；　with　which　I　venture　to　dispute　their　authority　would　be
overwhelming　did　I　not　feel；　from　the　bottom　of　my　heart；　that　learning
has　little　to　do　with　the　imagination…intellect　with　the　passions…or　age
with　poetry。

〃'Trifles；　like　straws；　upon　the　surface　flow；
He　who　would　search　for　pearls　must　dive　below；'

are　lines　which　have　done　much　mischief。　As　regards　the　greater　truths；
men　oftener　err　by　seeking　them　at　the　bottom　than　at　the　top；　Truth　lies
in　the　huge　abysses　where　wisdom　is　sought…not　in　the　palpable　palaces
where　she　is　found。　The　ancients　were　not　always　right　in　hiding　…the
goddess　in　a　well；　witness　the　light　which　Bacon　has　thrown　upon
philosophy；　witness　the　principles　of　our　divine　faith　…that　moral
mechanism　by　which　the　simplicity　of　a　child　may　overbalance　the　wisdom　of
a　man。

〃We　see　an　instance　of　Coleridge's　liability　to　err；　in　his　'Biographia
Literaria'professedly　his　literary　life　and　opinions；　but；　in　fact；　a
treatise　_de　omni　scibili　et　quibusdam　aliis。　_He　goes　wrong　by　reason　of
his　very　profundity；　and　of　his　error　we　have　a　natural　type　in　the
contemplation　of　a　star。　He　who　regards　it　directly　and　intensely　sees；　it
is　true；　the　star；　but　it　is　the　star　without　a　ray…while　he　who　surveys
it　less　inquisitively　is　conscious　of　all　for　which　the　star　is　useful　to
us　below…its　brilliancy　and　its　beauty。

〃As　to　Wordsworth；　I　have　no　faith　in　him。　That　he　had　in　youth　the
feelings　of　a　poet　I　believe…for　there　are　glimpses　of　extreme　delicacy　in
his　writings…（and　delicacy　is　the　poet's　own　kingdom…his　_El　Dorado）…but
they　_have　the　appearance　of　a　better　day　recollected；　and　glimpses；　at
best；　are　little　evidence　of　present　poetic　fire；　we　know　that　a　few
straggling　flowers　spring　up　daily　in　the　crevices　of　the　glacier。

〃He　was　to　blame　in　wearing　away　his　youth　in　contemplation　with　the　end
of　poetizing　in　his　manhood。　With　the　increase　of　his　judgment　the　light
which　should　make　it　apparent　has　faded　away。　His　judgment　consequently　is
too　correct。　This　may　not　be　understood…but　the　old　Goths　of　Germany　would
have　understood　it；　who　used　to　debate　matters　of　importance　to　their
State　twice；　once　when　drunk；　and　once　when　sober…sober　that　they　might
not　be　deficient　in　formalitydrunk　lest　they　should　be　destitute　of
vigor。

〃The　long　wordy　discussions　by　which　he　tries　to　reason　us　into　admiration
of　his　poetry；　speak　very　little　in　his　favor：　they　are　full　of　such
assertions　as　this　（I　have　opened　one　of　his　volumes　at　random）　…〃Of
genius　the　only　proof　is　the　act　of　doing　well　what　is　worthy　to　be　done；
and　what　was　never　done　before；'…indeed？　then　it　follows　that　in　doing
what　is　unworthy　to　be　done；　or　what　_has　_been　done　before；　no　genius　can
be　evinced；　yet　the　picking　of　pockets　is　an　unw　orthy　act；　pockets　have
been　picked　time　immemorial；　and　Barrington；　the　pickpocket；　in　point　of
genius；　would　have　thought　hard　of　a　comparison　with　William　Wordsworth；
the　poet。

〃Again；　in　estimating　the　merit　of　certain　poems；　whether　they　be　Ossian's
or　Macpherson's　can　surely　be　of　little　consequence；　yet；　in　order　to
prove　their　worthlessness；　Mr。　W。　has　expended　many　pages　in　the
controversy。　_Tantaene　animis？　_Can　great　minds　descend　to　such　absurdity？
But　worse　still：　that　he　may　bear　down　every　argument　in　favor　of　these
poems；　he　triumphantly　drags　forward　a　passage；　in　his　abomination　with
which　he　expects　the　reader　to　sympathize。　It　is　the　beginning　of　the　epic
poem　'Temora。'　'The　blue　waves　of　Ullin　roll　in　light；　the　green　hills　are
covered　with　day；　trees　shake　their　dusty　heads　in　the　breeze。'　And　this
this　gorgeous；　yet　simple　imagery；　where　all　is　alive　and　panting　with
immortality…this；　William　Wordsworth；　the　author　of　'Peter　Bell；'　has
_selected　_for　his　contempt。　We　shall　see　what　better　he；　in　his　own
person；　has　to　offer。　Imprimis：

〃'And　now　she's　at　the　pony's　tail；
And　now　she's　at　the　pony's　head；
On　that　side　now；　and　now　on　this；
And；　almost　stifled　with　her　bliss；

A　few　sad　tears　does　Betty　shed。　。　。　。
She　pats　the　pony；　where　or　when
She　knows　not　。　。　。　。　happy　Betty　Foy！
Oh；　Johnny；　never　mind　the　doctor！'

Secondly：

〃'The　dew　was　falling　fast；　the…stars　began　to　blink；
I　heard　a　voice：　it　said…〃Drink；　pretty　creature；　drink！〃
And；　looking　o'er　the　hedge；　be…fore　me　I　espied
A　snow…white　mountain　lamb；　with　a…maiden　at　its　side。
No　other　sheep　was　near；the　lamb　was　all　alone；
And　by　a　slender　cord　was…tether'd　to　a　stone。'

〃Now；　we　have　no　doubt　this　is　all　true：　we　will　believe　it；　indeed　we
will；　Mr。　W。　Is　it　sympathy　for　the　sheep　you　wish　to　excite？　I　love　a
sheep　from　the　bottom　of　my　heart。

〃But　there　are　occasions；　dear　B…；　there　are　occasions　when　even
Wordsworth　is　reasonable。　Even　Stamboul；　it　is　said；　shall　have　an　end；
and　the　most　unlucky　blunders　must　come　to　a　conclusion。　Here　is　an
extract　from　his　preface　：…

〃'Those　who　have　been　accustomed　to　the　phraseology　of　modem　writers；　if
they　persist　in　reading　this　book　to　a　conclusion　_（impossible！）　will；　_no
doubt；　have　to　struggle　with　feelings　of　awkwardness；　（ha！　ha！　ha！）　they
will　look　round　for　poetry　（ha！　ha！　ha！　ha！）；　and　will　be　induced　to
inquire　by　what　species　of　courtesy　these　attempts　have　been　permitted　to
assume　that　title。'　Ha！　ha！　ha！　ha！　ha！

〃Yet；　let　not　Mr。　W。　despair；　he　has　given　immortality　to　a　wagon；　and　the
bee　Sophocles　has　transmitted　to　eternity　a　sore　toe；　and　dignified　a
tragedy　with　a　chorus　of　turkeys。

〃Of　Coleridge；　I　can　not　speak　but　with　reverence。　His　towering　intellect！
his　gigantic　power！　To　use　an　author　quoted　by　himself；　_'Tai　trouv？
souvent　que　la　plupart　des　sectes　ont　raison　dans　une　bonne　partie　de　ce
qu'elles　avancent；　mais　non　pas　en　ce　qu'elles　nient　；　'　and　_to　employ
his　own　language；　he　has　imprisoned　his　own　conceptions　by　the　barrier　he
ha