letters on literature-第11章

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value　and　interest。　　Mr。　Swinburne's　〃Atalanta〃　of　1865；　the　quarto

in　white　cloth；　is　valued　at　twenty　dollars。　　Twenty　years　ago　one

dollar　would　have　purchased　it。　　Mr。　Austin　Dobson's　〃Proverbs　in

Porcelain〃　is　also　in　demand　among　the　curious。　　Nay；　even　I　may　say

about　the　first　edition　of　〃Ballades　in　Blue　China〃　（1880）；　as

Gibbon　said　of　his　〃Essay　on　the　Study　of　Literature：〃　〃The

primitive　value　of　half　a　crown　has　risen　to　the　fanciful　price　of　a

guinea　or　thirty　shillings；〃　or　even　more。　　I　wish　I　had　a　copy

myself；　for　old　sake's　sake。



Certain　modern　books；　〃on　large　paper；〃　are　safe　investments。　　The

〃Badminton　Library；〃　an　English　series　of　books　on　sport；　is　at　a

huge　premium　already；　when　on　〃large　paper。〃　　But　one　should　never

buy　the　book　unless；　as　in　the　case　of　Dr。　John　Hill　Burton's　〃Book…

Hunter〃　（first　edition）；　it　is　not　only　on　large　paper；　and　not　only

rare　（twenty…five　copies）；　but　also　readable　and　interesting。　｛7｝　　A

collector　should　have　the　taste　to　see　when　a　new　book　is　in　itself

valuable　and　charming；　and　when　its　author　is　likely　to　succeed；　so

that　his　early　attempts　（as　in　the　case　of　Mr。　Matthew　Arnold；　Lord

Tennyson；　and　a　few　others　of　the　moderns）　are　certain　to　become

things　of　curious　interest。



You　can　hardly　ever　get　a　novel　of　Jane　Austen's　in　the　first

edition。　　She　is　rarer　than　Fielding　or　Smollett。　　Some　day　it　may

be　the　same　in　Miss　Broughton's　case。　　Cling　to　the　fair　and　witty

Jane；　if　you　get　a　chance。　　Beware　of　illustrated　modern　books　in

which　〃processes〃　are　employed。　　Amateurs　will　never　really　value

mechanical　reproductions；　which　can　be　copied　to　any　extent。　　The

old　French　copper…plate　engravings　and　the　best　English　mezzo…tints

are　so　valuable　because　good　impressions　are　necessarily　so　rare。



One　more　piece　of　advice。　　Never　（or　〃hardly　ever〃）　buy　an　imperfect

book。　　It　is　a　constant　source　of　regret；　an　eyesore。　　Here　have　I

Lovelace's　〃Lucasta；〃　1649；　without　the　engraving。　　It　is

deplorable；　but　I　never　had　a　chance　of　another　〃Lucasta。〃　　This　is

not　a　case　of　invenies　aliam。　　However　you　fare；　you　will　have　the

pleasure　of　Hope　and　the　consolation　of　books　quietem　inveniendam　in

abditis　recessibus　et　libellulis。







ROCHEFOUCAULD







To　the　Lady　Violet　Lebas。



Dear　Lady　Violet；I　am　not　sure　that　I　agree　with　you　in　your

admiration　of　Rochefoucauldof　the　Reflexions；　ou　Sentences　et

Maximes　Morales；　I　mean。　　At　least；　I　hardly　agree　when　I　have　read

many　of　them　at　a　stretch。　　It　is　not　fair　to　read　them　in　that　way；

of　course；　for　there　are　more　than　five　hundred　pensees；　and　so　much

esprit　becomes　fatiguing。　　I　doubt　if　people　study　them　much。　　Five

or　six　of　them　have　become　known　even　to　writers　in　the　newspapers；

and　we　all　copy　them　from　each　other。



Rochefoucauld　says　that　a　man　may　be　too　dull　to　be　duped　by　a　very

clever　person。　　He　himself　was　so　clever　that　he　was　often　duped；

first　by　the　general　honest　dulness　of　mankind；　and　then　by　his　own

acuteness。　　He　thought　he　saw　more　than　he　did　see；　and　he　said　even

more　than　he　thought　he　saw。　　If　the　true　motive　of　all　our　actions

is　self…love；　or　vanity；　no　man　is　a　better　proof　of　the　truth　than

the　great　maxim…maker。　　His　self…love　took　the　shape　of　a　brilliancy

that　is　sometimes　false。　　He　is　tricked　out　in　paste　for　diamonds；

now　and　then；　like　a　vain；　provincial　beauty　at　a　ball。　　〃A　clever

man　would　frequently　be　much　at　a　loss；〃　he　says；　〃in　stupid

company。〃　　One　has　seen　this　embarrassment　of　a　wit　in　a　company　of

dullards。　　It　is　Rochefoucauld's　own　position　in　this　world　of　men

and　women。　　We　are　all；　in　the　mass；　dullards　compared　with　his

cleverness；　and　so　he　fails　to　understand　us；　is　much　at　a　loss

among　us。　　〃People　only　praise　others　in　hopes　of　being　praised　in

turn；〃　he　says。　　Mankind　is　not　such　a　company　of　〃log…rollers〃　as

he　avers。



There　is　more　truth　in　a　line　of　Tennyson's　about





〃The　praise　of　those　we　love；

Dearer　to　true　young　hearts　than　their　own　praise。〃





I　venture　to　think　we　need　not　be　young　to　prefer　to　hear　the　praise

of　others　rather　than　our　own。　　It　is　not　embarrassing　in　the　first

place；　as　all　praise　of　ourselves　must　be。　　I　doubt　if　any　man　or

woman　can　flatter　so　discreetly　as　not　to　make　us　uncomfortable。

Besides；　if　our　own　performances　be　lauded；　we　are　uneasy　as　to

whether　the　honour　is　deserved。　　An　artist　has　usually　his　own

doubts　about　his　own　doings；　or　rather　he　has　his　own　certainties。

About　our　friends'　work　we　need　have　no　such　misgivings。　　And　our

self…love　is　more　delicately　caressed　by　the　success　of　our　friends

than　by　our　own。　　It　is　still　self…love；　but　it　is　filtered；　so　to

speak；　through　our　affection　for　another。



What　are　human　motives；　according　to　Rochefoucauld？　　Temperament；

vanity；　fear；　indolence；　self…love；　and　a　grain　of　natural

perversity；　which　somehow　delights　in　evil　for　itself。　　He　neglects

that　other　element；　a　grain　of　natural　worth；　which　somehow　delights

in　good　for　itself。　　This　taste；　I　think；　is　quite　as　innate；　and　as

active　in　us；　as　that　other　taste　for　evil　which　causes　there　to　be

something　not　wholly　displeasing　in　the　misfortunes　of　our　friends。



There　is　a　story　which　always　appears　to　me　a　touching　proof　of　this

grain　of　goodness；　as　involuntary；　as　fatal　as　its　opposite。　　I　do

not　remember　in　what　book　of　travels　I　found　this　trait　of　native

excellence。　　The　black　fellows　of　Australia　are　very　fond　of　sugar；

and　no　wonder；　if　it　be　true　that　it　has　on　them　an　intoxicating

effect。　　Well；　a　certain　black　fellow　had　a　small　parcel　of　brown

sugar　which　was　pilfered　from　his　lair　in　the　camp。　　He　detected　the

thief；　who　was　condemned　to　be　punished　according　to　tribal　law；

that　is　to　say；　the　injured　man　was　allowed　to　have　a　whack　at　his

enemy's　head　with　a　waddy；　a　short　club　of　heavy　hard　wood。　　The

whack　was　duly　given；　and　then　the　black　who　had　suffered　the　loss

threw　down　his　club；　burst　into　tears；　embraced　the　thief　and

displayed　every　sign　of　a　lively　regret　for　his　revenge。



That　seems　to　me　an　example　of　the　human　touch　that　Rochefoucauld

never　allows　for；　the　natural　goodness；　pity；　kindness；　which　can

assert　itself　in　contempt　of　the　love　of　self；　and　the　love　of

revenge。　　This　is　that　true　clemency　which　is　a　real　virtue；　and　not

〃the　child　of　Vanity；　Fear；　Indolence；　or　of　all　three　together。〃

Nor　is　it　so　true　that　〃we　have　all　fortitude　enough　to　endure　the

misfortunes　of　others。〃　　Everybody　has　witnessed　another's　grief

that　came　as　near　him　as　his　own。



How　much　more　true；　and　how　greatly　poetical　is　that　famous　maxim：

〃Death　and　the　Sun　are　two　things　not　to　be　looked　on　with　a　steady

eye。〃　　This　version　is　from　the　earliest　English　translation　of

1698。　　The　Maximes　were　first　published　in　Paris　in　1665。　｛8｝　　〃Our

tardy　apish　nation〃　took　thirty…three　years　in　finding　them　out　and

appropriating　them。　　This；　too；　is　good：　　〃If　we　were　faultless；　we

would　observe　with　less　pleasure　the　faults　of　others。〃　　Indeed；　to

observe　these　with　pleasure　is　not　the　least　of　our　faults。　　Again；

〃We　are　never　so　happy；　nor　so　wretched；　as　we　suppose。〃　　It　is　our

vanity；　perhaps；　that　makes　us　think　ourselves　miserrimi。



Do　you　rememberno；　you　don'tthat　meeting　in　〃Candide〃　of　the

unfortunate　Cunegonde　and　the　still　more　unfortunate　old　lady　who

was　the　daughter　of　a　Pope？　　〃You　lament　your　fate；〃　said　the　old

lady；　〃alas；　you　have　known　no　such　sorrows　as　mine！〃　　〃What！　my

good　woman！〃　says　Cunegonde。　　〃Unless　you　have　been　maltreated　by

two　Bulgarians；　received　two　stabs　from　a　knife；　had　two　of　your

castles　burned　over　your　head；　seen　two　fathers　and　two　mothers

murdered　before　your　eyes；　and　two　of　your　lovers　flogged　at　two

autos…da…fe；　I　don't　fancy　that　you　can　have　the　advantage　of　me。

Besides；　I　was　born　a　baroness　of　seventy…two　quarterings；　and　I

have　been　a　cook。〃　　But　the　daughter　of　a　Pope　had；　indeed；　been

still　more　unlucky；　as　she　proved；　than　Cunegonde；　and　the　old　lady

was　not　a　little　proud　of　it。



But　can　you　call　this　true：　　〃There　is　nobody　but　is　ashamed　of

having　loved　when　once　he　loves　no　longer〃？　　If　it　be　true　at　all；　I

don't　think　the　love　was　much　worth　having　or　giving。　　If　one　really

loves　once；　one　can　never　be　ashamed　of　it；　for　we　never　cease　to

love。　　However；　this　is　the　very　high　water　of　sentiment；　you　will

say；　but　I　blush　no　more　for　it　than　M。　le　Duc　de　Rochefoucauld　for

his　own　opinion。　　Perhaps　I　am　thinking　of　that　kind　of　love　about

which　he　says：　　〃True　love　is　like　ghosts；　which　everybody　talks

about　and　few　have　seen。〃　　〃Many　be　the　thyrsus…bearers；　few　the

Mystics；〃　as　the　Greek　proverb　runs。　　〃Many　are　called；　few　are

chosen。〃



As　to　friendship　being　〃a　reciprocity　of　interests；〃　the　saying　is

but　one　of　those　which　Rochefoucauld's　vanity　imposed　on　his　wit。

Very　witty　it　is　not；　and　it　is　emphatically　untrue。　　〃Old　men

console　themselves　by　giving　good　advice　for　being　no　longer　able　to

set　bad　examples。〃　　Capital；　but　the　poor　old　men　are　often　good

examples　of　the　results　of　not　taking　their　own　good　advice。　　〃Many

an　ingrate　is　less　to　blame　than　his　benefactor。〃　　One　might　add；　at

least　I　will；　〃Every　man　who　looks　for　gratitude　deserves　to　get

none　of　it。〃　　〃To　say　that　one　never　flirtsis　flirting。〃　　I　rather

like　the　old　translator's　version　of　〃Il　y　a　de　bons　mariages；　mais

il　n'y　en　a　point　de　delicieux〃〃Marriage　is　sometimes　convenient；

but　never　delightful。〃



How　true　is　this　of　authors　with　a　brief　popularity：　　〃Il　y　a　des

gens　qui　ressemblent　aux　vaudevilles；　qu'on　ne　chante　qu'un　certain

temps。〃　　Again；　〃to　be　in　haste　to　repay　a　kindness　is　a　sort　of

ingratitude；〃　and　a　rather　insulting　sort　too。　　〃Almost　everybody

likes　to　repay　small　favours；　many　people　can　be　grateful　for

favours　not　too　weighty；　but　for　favours　truly　great　there　is　scarce

anything　but　ingratitude。〃　　They　must　have　been　small　favours　that

Wordsworth　had　conferred　when　〃the　gratitude　of　men　had　oftener　left

him　mourning。〃　　Indeed；　the　very　pettiness　of　the　aid　we　can

generally　render　each　other；　makes　gratitude　the　touching　thing　it

is。　　So　much　is　repaid　for　so　little；　and　few　can　ever　have　the

chance　of　incurring　the　thanklessness　that　Rochefoucauld　found　all

but　universal。



〃Lovers　and　ladies　never　bore　each　other；　because　they　never　speak

of　anything　but　themselves。〃　　Do　husbands　and　wives　often　bore　each

other　for　the　same　reason？　　Who　said：　　〃To　know　all　is　to　forgive

all〃？　　It　is　rather　like　〃On　pardonne　tant　que　l'on　aime〃〃As　long

as　we　love　we　can　forgive；〃　a　comfortable　saying；　and　these　are　rare

in　Rochefoucauld。　　〃Women　do　not　quite　know　what　flirts　they　are〃　is

also；　let　us　hope；　not　incorrect。　　The　maxim　that　〃There　is　a　love

so　excessive　that　it　kills　jealousy〃　is　only　a　corollary　from　〃as

long　a