WHAT THE MOON SAW [7]
the momentary applause and of the triumph of the fair songstress;
when all will be forgotten and gone, and even for me this hour will be
but a dream of the past."
TWELFTH EVENING
"I looked through the windows of an editor's house," said the
Moon. "It was somewhere in Germany. I saw handsome furniture, many
books, and a chaos of newspapers. Several young men were present:
the editor himself stood at his desk, and two little books, both by
young authors, were to be noticed. 'This one has been sent to me,'
said he. 'I have not read it yet; what think you of the contents?'
'Oh,' said the person addressed- he was a poet himself- 'it is good
enough; a little broad, certainly; but, you see, the author is still
young. The verses might be better, to be sure; the thoughts are sound,
though there is certainly a good deal of common-place among them.
But what will you have? You can't be always getting something new.
That he'll turn out anything great I don't believe, but you may safely
praise him. He is well read, a remarkable Oriental scholar, and has
a good judgment. It was he who wrote that nice review of my
'Reflections on Domestic Life.' We must be lenient towards the young
man."
"'But he is a complete hack!' objected another of the gentlemen.
'Nothing worse in poetry than mediocrity, and he certainly does not go
beyond this.'
"'Poor fellow,' observed a third, 'and his aunt is so happy
about him. It was she, Mr. Editor, who got together so many
subscribers for your last translation.'
"'Ah, the good woman! Well, I have noticed the book briefly.
Undoubted talent- a welcome offering- a flower in the garden of
poetry- prettily brought out- and so on. But this other book- I
suppose the author expects me to purchase it? I hear it is praised. He
has genius, certainly: don't you think so?'
"'Yes, all the world declares as much,' replied the poet, 'but
it has turned out rather wildly. The punctuation of the book, in
particular, is very eccentric.'
"'It will be good for him if we pull him to pieces, and anger
him a little, otherwise he will get too good an opinion of himself.'
"'But that would be unfair,' objected the fourth. 'Let us not carp
at little faults, but rejoice over the real and abundant good that
we find here: he surpasses all the rest.'
"'Not so. If he is a true genius, he can bear the sharp voice of
censure. There are people enough to praise him. Don't let us quite
turn his head.'
"'Decided talent,' wrote the editor, 'with the usual carelessness.
that he can write incorrect verses may be seen in page 25, where there
are two false quantities. We recommend him to study the ancients,
etc.'
"I went away," continued the Moon, "and looked through the windows
in the aunt's house. There sat the be-praised poet, the tame one;
all the guests paid homage to him, and he was happy.
"I sought the other poet out, the wild one; him also I found in
a great assembly at his patron's, where the tame poet's book was being
discussed.
"'I shall read yours also,' said Maecenas; 'but to speak honestly-
you know I never hide my opinion from you- I don't expect much from
it, for you are much too wild, too fantastic. But it must be allowed
that, as a man, you are highly respectable.'
"A young girl sat in a corner; and she read in a book these words:
"'In the dust lies genius and glory,
But ev'ry-day talent will pay.
It's only the old, old story,
But the piece is repeated each day.'"
THIRTEENTH EVENING
The Moon said, "Beside the woodland path there are two small
farm-houses. The doors are low, and some of the windows are placed
quite high, and others close to the ground; and whitethorn and
barberry bushes grow around them. The roof of each house is
overgrown with moss and with yellow flowers and houseleek. Cabbage and
potatoes are
when all will be forgotten and gone, and even for me this hour will be
but a dream of the past."
TWELFTH EVENING
"I looked through the windows of an editor's house," said the
Moon. "It was somewhere in Germany. I saw handsome furniture, many
books, and a chaos of newspapers. Several young men were present:
the editor himself stood at his desk, and two little books, both by
young authors, were to be noticed. 'This one has been sent to me,'
said he. 'I have not read it yet; what think you of the contents?'
'Oh,' said the person addressed- he was a poet himself- 'it is good
enough; a little broad, certainly; but, you see, the author is still
young. The verses might be better, to be sure; the thoughts are sound,
though there is certainly a good deal of common-place among them.
But what will you have? You can't be always getting something new.
That he'll turn out anything great I don't believe, but you may safely
praise him. He is well read, a remarkable Oriental scholar, and has
a good judgment. It was he who wrote that nice review of my
'Reflections on Domestic Life.' We must be lenient towards the young
man."
"'But he is a complete hack!' objected another of the gentlemen.
'Nothing worse in poetry than mediocrity, and he certainly does not go
beyond this.'
"'Poor fellow,' observed a third, 'and his aunt is so happy
about him. It was she, Mr. Editor, who got together so many
subscribers for your last translation.'
"'Ah, the good woman! Well, I have noticed the book briefly.
Undoubted talent- a welcome offering- a flower in the garden of
poetry- prettily brought out- and so on. But this other book- I
suppose the author expects me to purchase it? I hear it is praised. He
has genius, certainly: don't you think so?'
"'Yes, all the world declares as much,' replied the poet, 'but
it has turned out rather wildly. The punctuation of the book, in
particular, is very eccentric.'
"'It will be good for him if we pull him to pieces, and anger
him a little, otherwise he will get too good an opinion of himself.'
"'But that would be unfair,' objected the fourth. 'Let us not carp
at little faults, but rejoice over the real and abundant good that
we find here: he surpasses all the rest.'
"'Not so. If he is a true genius, he can bear the sharp voice of
censure. There are people enough to praise him. Don't let us quite
turn his head.'
"'Decided talent,' wrote the editor, 'with the usual carelessness.
that he can write incorrect verses may be seen in page 25, where there
are two false quantities. We recommend him to study the ancients,
etc.'
"I went away," continued the Moon, "and looked through the windows
in the aunt's house. There sat the be-praised poet, the tame one;
all the guests paid homage to him, and he was happy.
"I sought the other poet out, the wild one; him also I found in
a great assembly at his patron's, where the tame poet's book was being
discussed.
"'I shall read yours also,' said Maecenas; 'but to speak honestly-
you know I never hide my opinion from you- I don't expect much from
it, for you are much too wild, too fantastic. But it must be allowed
that, as a man, you are highly respectable.'
"A young girl sat in a corner; and she read in a book these words:
"'In the dust lies genius and glory,
But ev'ry-day talent will pay.
It's only the old, old story,
But the piece is repeated each day.'"
THIRTEENTH EVENING
The Moon said, "Beside the woodland path there are two small
farm-houses. The doors are low, and some of the windows are placed
quite high, and others close to the ground; and whitethorn and
barberry bushes grow around them. The roof of each house is
overgrown with moss and with yellow flowers and houseleek. Cabbage and
potatoes are