the works of edgar allan poe-5-第22部分

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discovered　by　the　engineers　employed　to　bore　for　water　in　the　Great　Oasis。

I　then　mentioned　our　steel；　but　the　foreigner　elevated　his　nose；　and　asked
me　if　our　steel　could　have　executed　the　sharp　carved　work　seen　on　the
obelisks；　and　which　was　wrought　altogether　by　edge…tools　of　copper。

This　disconcerted　us　so　greatly　that　we　thought　it　advisable　to　vary　the
attack　to　Metaphysics。　We　sent　for　a　copy　of　a　book　called　the　〃Dial；〃　and
read　out　of　it　a　chapter　or　two　about　something　that　is　not　very　clear；
but　which　the　Bostonians　call　the　Great　Movement　of　Progress。

The　Count　merely　said　that　Great　Movements　were　awfully　common　things　in
his　day；　and　as　for　Progress；　it　was　at　one　time　quite　a　nuisance；　but　it
never　progressed。

We　then　spoke　of　the　great　beauty　and　importance　of　Democracy；　and　were　at
much　trouble　in　impressing　the　Count　with　a　due　sense　of　the　advantages　we
enjoyed　in　living　where　there　was　suffrage　ad　libitum；　and　no　king。

He　listened　with　marked　interest；　and　in　fact　seemed　not　a　little　amused。
When　we　had　done；　he　said　that；　a　great　while　ago；　there　had　occurred
something　of　a　very　similar　sort。　Thirteen　Egyptian　provinces　determined
all　at　once　to　be　free；　and　to　set　a　magnificent　example　to　the　rest　of
mankind。　They　assembled　their　wise　men；　and　concocted　the　most　ingenious
constitution　it　is　possible　to　conceive。　For　a　while　they　managed
remarkably　well；　only　their　habit　of　bragging　was　prodigious。　The　thing
ended；　however；　in　the　consolidation　of　the　thirteen　states；　with　some
fifteen　or　twenty　others；　in　the　most　odious　and　insupportable　despotism
that　was　ever　heard　of　upon　the　face　of　the　Earth。

I　asked　what　was　the　name　of　the　usurping　tyrant。

As　well　as　the　Count　could　recollect；　it　was　Mob。

Not　knowing　what　to　say　to　this；　I　raised　my　voice；　and　deplored　the
Egyptian　ignorance　of　steam。

The　Count　looked　at　me　with　much　astonishment；　but　made　no　answer。　The
silent　gentleman；　however；　gave　me　a　violent　nudge　in　the　ribs　with　his
elbows　　told　me　I　had　sufficiently　exposed　myself　for　once　　and
demanded　if　I　was　really　such　a　fool　as　not　to　know　that　the　modern
steam…engine　is　derived　from　the　invention　of　Hero；　through　Solomon　de
Caus。

We　were　now　in　imminent　danger　of　being　discomfited；　but；　as　good　luck
would　have　it；　Doctor　Ponnonner；　having　rallied；　returned　to　our　rescue；
and　inquired　if　the　people　of　Egypt　would　seriously　pretend　to　rival　the
moderns　in　the　all…　important　particular　of　dress。

The　Count；　at　this；　glanced　downward　to　the　straps　of　his　pantaloons；　and
then　taking　hold　of　the　end　of　one　of　his　coat…tails；　held　it　up　close　to
his　eyes　for　some　minutes。　Letting　it　fall；　at　last；　his　mouth　extended
itself　very　gradually　from　ear　to　ear；　but　I　do　not　remember　that　he　said
any　thing　in　the　way　of　reply。

Hereupon　we　recovered　our　spirits；　and　the　Doctor；　approaching　the　Mummy
with　great　dignity；　desired　it　to　say　candidly；　upon　its　honor　as　a
gentleman；　if　the　Egyptians　had　comprehended；　at　any　period；　the
manufacture　of　either　Ponnonner's　lozenges　or　Brandreth's　pills。

We　looked；　with　profound　anxiety；　for　an　answer　　but　in　vain。　It　was　not
forthcoming。　The　Egyptian　blushed　and　hung　down　his　head。　Never　was
triumph　more　consummate；　never　was　defeat　borne　with　so　ill　a　grace。
Indeed；　I　could　not　endure　the　spectacle　of　the　poor　Mummy's
mortification。　I　reached　my　hat；　bowed　to　him　stiffly；　and　took　leave。

Upon　getting　home　I　found　it　past　four　o'clock；　and　went　immediately　to
bed。　It　is　now　ten　A。M。　I　have　been　up　since　seven；　penning　these
memoranda　for　the　benefit　of　my　family　and　of　mankind。　The　former　I　shall
behold　no　more。　My　wife　is　a　shrew。　The　truth　is；　I　am　heartily　sick　of
this　life　and　of　the　nineteenth　century　in　general。　I　am　convinced　that
every　thing　is　going　wrong。　Besides；　I　am　anxious　to　know　who　will　be
President　in　2045。　As　soon；　therefore；　as　I　shave　and　swallow　a　cup　of
coffee；　I　shall　just　step　over　to　Ponnonner's　and　get　embalmed　for　a
couple　of　hundred　years。

~~~　End　of　Text　~~~



The　Poetic　Principle

　　　　IN　speaking　of　the　Poetic　Principle；　I　have　no　design　to　be　either
thorough　or　profound。　While　discussing；　very　much　at　random；　the
essentiality　of　what　we　call　Poetry；　my　principal　purpose　will　be　to　cite
for　consideration；　some　few　of　those　minor　English　or　American　poems　which
best　suit　my　own　taste；　or　which；　upon　my　own　fancy；　have　left　the　most
definite　impression。　By　〃minor　poems〃　I　mean；　of　course；　poems　of　little
length。　And　here；　in　the　beginning；　permit　me　to　say　a　few　words　in　regard
to　a　somewhat　peculiar　principle；　which；　whether　rightfully　or　wrongfully；
has　always　had　its　influence　in　my　own　critical　estimate　of　the　poem。　I
hold　that　a　long　poem　does　not　exist。　I　maintain　that　the　phrase；　〃a　long
poem；〃　is　simply　a　flat　contradiction　in　terms。

　　　　I　need　scarcely　observe　that　a　poem　deserves　its　title　only　inasmuch
as　it　excites；　by　elevating　the　soul。　The　value　of　the　poem　is　in　the
ratio　of　this　elevating　excitement。　But　all　excitements　are；　through　a
psychal　necessity；　transient。　That　degree　of　excitement　which　would
entitle　a　poem　to　be　so　called　at　all；　cannot　be　sustained　throughout　a
composition　of　any　great　length。　After　the　lapse　of　half　an　hour；　at　the
very　utmost；　it　flags　　fails　　a　revulsion　ensues　　and　then　the　poem
is；　in　effect；　and　in　fact；　no　longer　such。

　　　　There　are；　no　doubt；　many　who　have　found　difficulty　in　reconciling　the
critical　dictum　that　the　〃Paradise　Lost〃　is　to　be　devoutly　admired
throughout；　with　the　absolute　impossibility　of　maintaining　for　it；　during
perusal；　the　amount　of　enthusiasm　which　that　critical　dictum　would　demand。
This　great　work；　in　fact；　is　to　be　regarded　as　poetical；　only　when；　losing
sight　of　that　vital　requisite　in　all　works　of　Art；　Unity；　we　view　it
merely　as　a　series　of　minor　poems。　If；　to　preserve　its　Unity　　its
totality　of　effect　or　impression　　we　read　it　（as　would　be　necessary）　at
a　single　sitting；　the　result　is　but　a　constant　alternation　of　excitement
and　depression。　After　a　passage　of　what　we　feel　to　be　true　poetry；　there
follows；　inevitably；　a　passage　of　platitude　which　no　critical　prejudgment
can　force　us　to　admire；　but　if；　upon　completing　the　work；　we　read　it
again；　omitting　the　first　book　　that　is　to　say；　commencing　with　the
second　　we　shall　be　surprised　at　now　finding　that　admirable　which　we
before　condemned　　that　damnable　which　we　had　previously　so　much　admired。
It　follows　from　all　this　that　the　ultimate；　aggregate；　or　absolute　effect
of　even　the　best　epic　under　the　sun；　is　a　nullity：　　and　this　is
precisely　the　fact。

　　　　In　regard　to　the　Iliad；　we　have；　if　not　positive　proof；　at　least　very
good　reason　for　believing　it　intended　as　a　series　of　lyrics；　but；　granting
the　epic　intention；　I　can　say　only　that　the　work　is　based　in　an　imperfect
sense　of　art。　The　modem　epic　is；　of　the　supposititious　ancient　model；　but
an　inconsiderate　and　blindfold　imitation。　But　the　day　of　these　artistic
anomalies　is　over。　If；　at　any　time；　any　very　long　poem　_were　_popular　in
reality；　which　I　doubt；　it　is　at　least　clear　that　no　very　long　poem　will
ever　be　popular　again。

　　　　That　the　extent　of　a　poetical　work　is；　_ceteris　paribus；　_the　measure
of　its　merit；　seems　undoubtedly；　when　we　thus　state　it；　a　proposition
sufficiently　absurd　　yet　we　are　indebted　for　it　to　the　Quarterly
Reviews。　Surely　there　can　be　nothing　in　mere　_size；　_abstractly　considered
　there　can　be　nothing　in　mere　_bulk；　so　_far　as　a　volume　is　concerned；
which　has　so　continuously　elicited　admiration　from　these　saturnine
pamphlets！　A　mountain；　to　be　sure；　by　the　mere　sentiment　of　physical
magnitude　which　it　conveys；　_does　_impress　us　with　a　sense　of　the　sublime
　but　no　man　is　impressed　after　_this　_fashion　by　the　material　grandeur
of　even　〃The　Columbiad。〃　Even　the　Quarterlies　have　not　instructed　us　to　be
so　impressed　by　it。　As　_yet；　_they　have　not　_insisted　_on　our　estimating
Lamar〃　tine　by　the　cubic　foot；　or　Pollock　by　the　pound　　but　what　else
are　we　to　_infer　_from　their　continual　plating　about　〃sustained　effort〃？
If；　by　〃sustained　effort；〃　any　little　gentleman　has　accomplished　an　epic；
1*　us　frankly　commend　him　for　the　effort　　if　this　indeed　be　a　thing　conk
mendablebut　let　us　forbear　praising　the　epic　on　the　effort's　account。　It
is　to　be　hoped　that　common　sense；　in　the　time　to　come；　will　prefer
deciding　upon　a　work　of　Art　rather　by　the　impression　it　makes　　by　the
effect　it　produces　　than　by　the　time　it　took　to　impress　the　effect；　or
by　the　amount　of　〃sustained　effort〃　which　had　been　found　necessary　in
effecting　the　impression。　The　fact　is；　that　perseverance　is　one　thing　and
genius　quite　another　　nor　can　all　the　Quarterlies　in　Christendom
confound　them。　By　and　by；　this　proposition；　with　many　which　I　have　been
just　urging；　will　be　received　as　self…evident。　In　the　meantime；　by　being
generally　condemned　as　falsities；　they　will　not　be　essentially　damaged　as
truths。

　　　　On　the　other　hand；　it　is　clear　that　a　poem　may　be　improperly　brief。
Undue　brevity　degenerates　into　mere　epigrammatism。　A　very　short　poem；
while　now　and　then　producing　a　brilliant　or　vivid；　never　produces　a
profound　or　enduring　effect。　There　must　be　the　steady　pressing　down　of　the
stamp　upon　the　wax。　De　Beranger　has　wrought　innumerable　things；　pungent
and　spirit…stirring；　but　in　general　they　have　been　too　imponderous　to
stamp　themselves　deeply　into　the　public　attention；　and　thus；　as　so　many
feathers　of　fancy；　have　been　blown　aloft　only　to　be　whistled　down　the
wind。

　　　　A　remarkable　instance　of　the　effect　of　undue　brevity　in　depressing　a
poem；　in　keeping　it　out　of　the　popular　view；　is　afforded　by　the　following
exquisite　little　Serenade

I　arise　from　dreams　of　thee
　　　　In　the　first　sweet　sleep　of　night；
When　the　winds　are　breathing　low；
　　　　And　the　stars　are　shining　bright。
I　arise　from　dreams　of　thee；
　　　　And　a　spirit　in　my　feet
Has　led　me　　who　knows　how？　
　　　　To　thy　chamber…window；　sweet！

The　wandering　airs　they　faint
　　　　On　the　dark　the　silent　stream　
The　champak　odors　fail
　　　　Like　sweet　thoughts　in　a　dream；
The　nightingale's　complaint；
　　　　It　dies　upon　her　heart；
As　I　must　die　on　shine；
　　　　O；