heroes and hero worship-第39部分

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desert　places；like　a　sudden　splendor　of　Heaven　in　the　artificial　Vauxhall！　　People　knew　not　what　to　make　of　it。　　They　took　it　for　a　piece　of　the　Vauxhall　fire…work；　alas；　it　_let_　itself　be　so　taken；　though　struggling　half…blindly；　as　in　bitterness　of　death；　against　that！　　Perhaps　no　man　had　such　a　false　reception　from　his　fellow…men。　　Once　more　a　very　wasteful　life…drama　was　enacted　under　the　sun。

The　tragedy　of　Burns's　life　is　known　to　all　of　you。　　Surely　we　may　say；　if　discrepancy　between　place　held　and　place　merited　constitute　perverseness　of　lot　for　a　man；　no　lot　could　be　more　perverse　then　Burns's。　　Among　those　second…hand　acting…figures；　_mimes_　for　most　part；　of　the　Eighteenth　Century；　once　more　a　giant　Original　Man；　one　of　those　men　who　reach　down　to　the　perennial　Deeps；　who　take　rank　with　the　Heroic　among　men：　　and　he　was　born　in　a　poor　Ayrshire　hut。　　The　largest　soul　of　all　the　British　lands　came　among　us　in　the　shape　of　a　hard…handed　Scottish　Peasant。

His　Father；　a　poor　toiling　man；　tried　various　things；　did　not　succeed　in　any；　was　involved　in　continual　difficulties。　　The　Steward；　Factor　as　the　Scotch　call　him；　used　to　send　letters　and　threatenings；　Burns　says；　〃which　threw　us　all　into　tears。〃　　The　brave；　hard…toiling；　hard…suffering　Father；　his　brave　heroine　of　a　wife；　and　those　children；　of　whom　Robert　was　one！　In　this　Earth；　so　wide　otherwise；　no　shelter　for　_them_。　　The　letters　〃threw　us　all　into　tears：〃　　figure　it。　　The　brave　Father；　I　say　always；a　_silent_　Hero　and　Poet；　without　whom　the　son　had　never　been　a　speaking　one！　Burns's　Schoolmaster　came　afterwards　to　London；　learnt　what　good　society　was；　but　declares　that　in　no　meeting　of　men　did　he　ever　enjoy　better　discourse　than　at　the　hearth　of　this　peasant。　　And　his　poor　〃seven　acres　of　nursery…ground；〃not　that；　nor　the　miserable　patch　of　clay…farm；　nor　anything　he　tried　to　get　a　living　by；　would　prosper　with　him；　he　had　a　sore　unequal　battle　all　his　days。　　But　he　stood　to　it　valiantly；　a　wise；　faithful；　unconquerable　man；swallowing　down　how　many　sore　sufferings　daily　into　silence；　fighting　like　an　unseen　Hero；nobody　publishing　newspaper　paragraphs　about　his　nobleness；　voting　pieces　of　plate　to　him！　However；　he　was　not　lost；　nothing　is　lost。　　Robert　is　there　the　outcome　of　him；and　indeed　of　many　generations　of　such　as　him。

This　Burns　appeared　under　every　disadvantage：　　uninstructed；　poor；　born　only　to　hard　manual　toil；　and　writing；　when　it　came　to　that；　in　a　rustic　special　dialect；　known　only　to　a　small　province　of　the　country　he　lived　in。　Had　he　written；　even　what　he　did　write；　in　the　general　language　of　England；　I　doubt　not　he　had　already　become　universally　recognized　as　being；　or　capable　to　be；　one　of　our　greatest　men。　　That　he　should　have　tempted　so　many　to　penetrate　through　the　rough　husk　of　that　dialect　of　his；　is　proof　that　there　lay　something　far　from　common　within　it。　　He　has　gained　a　certain　recognition；　and　is　continuing　to　do　so　over　all　quarters　of　our　wide　Saxon　world：　　wheresoever　a　Saxon　dialect　is　spoken；　it　begins　to　be　understood；　by　personal　inspection　of　this　and　the　other；　that　one　of　the　most　considerable　Saxon　men　of　the　Eighteenth　Century　was　an　Ayrshire　Peasant　named　Robert　Burns。　　Yes；　I　will　say；　here　too　was　a　piece　of　the　right　Saxon　stuff：　　strong　as　the　Harz…rock；　rooted　in　the　depths　of　the　world；rock；　yet　with　wells　of　living　softness　in　it！　　A　wild　impetuous　whirlwind　of　passion　and　faculty　slumbered　quiet　there；　such　heavenly　_melody_　dwelling　in　the　heart　of　it。　　A　noble　rough　genuineness；　homely；　rustic；　honest；　true　simplicity　of　strength；　with　its　lightning…fire；　with　its　soft　dewy　pity；like　the　old　Norse　Thor；　the　Peasant…god！

Burns's　Brother　Gilbert；　a　man　of　much　sense　and　worth；　has　told　me　that　Robert；　in　his　young　days；　in　spite　of　their　hardship；　was　usually　the　gayest　of　speech；　a　fellow　of　infinite　frolic；　laughter；　sense　and　heart；　far　pleasanter　to　hear　there；　stript　cutting　peats　in　the　bog；　or　such　like；　than　he　ever　afterwards　knew　him。　　I　can　well　believe　it。　　This　basis　of　mirth　（〃_fond　gaillard_；〃　as　old　Marquis　Mirabeau　calls　it）；　a　primal　element　of　sunshine　and　joyfulness；　coupled　with　his　other　deep　and　earnest　qualities；　is　one　of　the　most　attractive　characteristics　of　Burns。　　A　large　fund　of　Hope　dwells　in　him；　spite　of　his　tragical　history；　he　is　not　a　mourning　man。　　He　shakes　his　sorrows　gallantly　aside；　bounds　forth　victorious　over　them。　　It　is　as　the　lion　shaking　〃dew…drops　from　his　mane；〃　as　the　swift…bounding　horse；　that　_laughs_　at　the　shaking　of　the　spear。But　indeed；　Hope；　Mirth；　of　the　sort　like　Burns's；　are　they　not　the　outcome　properly　of　warm　generous　affection；such　as　is　the　beginning　of　all　to　every　man？

You　would　think　it　strange　if　I　called　Burns　the　most　gifted　British　soul　we　had　in　all　that　century　of　his：　　and　yet　I　believe　the　day　is　coming　when　there　will　be　little　danger　in　saying　so。　　His　writings；　all　that　he　_did_　under　such　obstructions；　are　only　a　poor　fragment　of　him。　　Professor　Stewart　remarked　very　justly；　what　indeed　is　true　of　all　Poets　good　for　much；　that　his　poetry　was　not　any　particular　faculty；　but　the　general　result　of　a　naturally　vigorous　original　mind　expressing　itself　in　that　way。　Burns's　gifts；　expressed　in　conversation；　are　the　theme　of　all　that　ever　heard　him。　　All　kinds　of　gifts：　　from　the　gracefulest　utterances　of　courtesy；　to　the　highest　fire　of　passionate　speech；　loud　floods　of　mirth；　soft　wailings　of　affection；　laconic　emphasis；　clear　piercing　insight；　all　was　in　him。　　Witty　duchesses　celebrate　him　as　a　man　whose　speech　〃led　them　off　their　feet。〃　　This　is　beautiful：　　but　still　more　beautiful　that　which　Mr。　Lockhart　has　recorded；　which　I　have　more　than　once　alluded　to；　How　the　waiters　and　ostlers　at　inns　would　get　out　of　bed；　and　come　crowding　to　hear　this　man　speak！　　Waiters　and　ostlers：they　too　were　men；　and　here　was　a　man！　　I　have　heard　much　about　his　speech；　but　one　of　the　best　things　I　ever　heard　of　it　was；　last　year；　from　a　venerable　gentleman　long　familiar　with　him。　　That　it　was　speech　distinguished　by　always　_having　something　in　it_。　〃He　spoke　rather　little　than　much；〃　this　old　man　told　me；　〃sat　rather　silent　in　those　early　days；　as　in　the　company　of　persons　above　him；　and　always　when　he　did　speak；　it　was　to　throw　new　light　on　the　matter。〃　　I　know　not　why　any　one　should　ever　speak　otherwise！But　if　we　look　at　his　general　force　of　soul；　his　healthy　_robustness_　every　way；　the　rugged　downrightness；　penetration；　generous　valor　and　manfulness　that　was　in　him；where　shall　we　readily　find　a　better…gifted　man？

Among　the　great　men　of　the　Eighteenth　Century；　I　sometimes　feel　as　if　Burns　might　be　found　to　resemble　Mirabeau　more　than　any　other。　　They　differ　widely　in　vesture；　yet　look　at　them　intrinsically。　　There　is　the　same　burly　thick…necked　strength　of　body　as　of　soul；built；　in　both　cases；　on　what　the　old　Marquis　calls　a　_fond　gaillard_。　　By　nature；　by　course　of　breeding；　indeed　by　nation；　Mirabeau　has　much　more　of　bluster；　a　noisy；　forward；　unresting　man。　　But　the　characteristic　of　Mirabeau　too　is　veracity　and　sense；　power　of　true　_insight_；　superiority　of　vision。　　The　thing　that　he　says　is　worth　remembering。　　It　is　a　flash　of　insight　into　some　object　or　other：　　so　do　both　these　men　speak。　　The　same　raging　passions；　capable　too　in　both　of　manifesting　themselves　as　the　tenderest　noble　affections。　　Wit；　wild　laughter；　energy；　directness；　sincerity：　　these　were　in　both。　　The　types　of　the　two　men　are　not　dissimilar。　　Burns　too　could　have　governed；　debated　in　National　Assemblies；　politicized；　as　few　could。　　Alas；　the　courage　which　had　to　exhibit　itself　in　capture　of　smuggling　schooners　in　the　Solway　Frith；　in　keeping　_silence_　over　so　much；　where　no　good　speech；　but　only　inarticulate　rage　was　possible：　　this　might　have　bellowed　forth　Ushers　de　Breze　and　the　like；　and　made　itself　visible　to　all　men；　in　managing　of　kingdoms；　in　ruling　of　great　ever…memorable　epochs！　　But　they　said　to　him　reprovingly；　his　Official　Superiors　said；　and　wrote：　　〃You　are　to　work；　not　think。〃　　Of　your　_thinking…faculty_；　the　greatest　in　this　land；　we　have　no　need；　you　are　to　gauge　beer　there；　for　that　only　are　you　wanted。　　Very　notable；and　worth　mentioning；　though　we　know　what　is　to　be　said　and　answered！　　As　if　Thought；　Power　of　Thinking；　were　not；　at　all　times；　in　all　places　and　situations　of　the　world；　precisely　the　thing　that　was　wanted。　　The　fatal　man；　is　he　not　always　the　unthinking　man；　the　man　who　cannot　think　and　_see_；　but　only　grope；　and　hallucinate；　and　_mis_see　the　nature　of　the　thing　he　works　with？　　He　mis…sees　it；　mis_takes_　it　as　we　say；　takes　it　for　one　thing；　and　it　_is_　another　thing；and　leaves　him　standing　like　a　Futility　there！　　He　is　the　fatal　man；　unutterably　fatal；　put　in　the　high　places　of　men。〃Why　complain　of　this？〃　say　some：　〃Strength　is　mournfully　denied　its　arena；　that　was　true　from　of　old。〃　Doubtless；　and　the　worse　for　the　_arena_；　answer　I！　　_Complaining_　profits　little；　stating　of　the　truth　may　profit。　　That　a　Europe；　with　its　French　Revolution　just　breaking　out；　finds　no　need　of　a　Burns　except　for　gauging　beer；is　a　thing　I；　for　one；　cannot　_rejoice_　at！

Once　more　we　have　to　say　here；　that　the　chief　quality　of　Burns　is　the　_sincerity_　of　him。　　So　in　his　Poetry；　so　in　his　Life。　　The　song　he　sings　is　not　of　fantasticalities；　it　is　of　a　thing　felt；　really　there；　the　prime　merit　of　this；　as　of　all　in　him；　and　of　his　Life　generally；　is　truth。　　The　Life　of　Burns　is　what　we　may　call　a　great　tragic　sincerity。　　A　sort　of　savage　sincerity；not　cruel；　far　from　that；　but　wild；　wrestling　naked　with　the　truth　of　things。　　In　that　sense；　there　is　something　of　the　savage　in　all　great　men。

Hero…worship；Odin；　Burns？　　Well；　these　Men　of　Letters　too　were　not　without　a　kind　of　Hero…worship：　　but　what　a　strange　condition　has　that　got　into　now！　　The　waiters　and　ostlers　of　Scotch　inns；　prying　about　the　door；　eager　to　catch　any　word　that　fell　from　Burns；　were　doing　unconscious　reverence　to　the　Heroic。　　Johnson　had　his　Boswell　for　worshipper。　　Rousseau　had　worshippers　enough；　princes　calling　on　him　in　his　mean　garret；　the　great；　the　beautiful　doing　reverence　to　the　poor　moon…struck　man。　　For　himself　a　most　portentous　contradiction；　the　two　ends　of　his　life　not　to　be　bro