' But here we have only to
deal with that one particular abuse. Some rules how to know a poet may
conceivably be of interest, though of no greater value.
Of course, the one first and last test is his work, but 'how to know
poetry' is another matter, which I do not propose treating of here; my
intention rather being to dot down a few personal characteristics--not
so much his 'works' as his 'ways.' I write as they come into my head;
and to any Reader about to cry out against digression, let me add: I
write thinking of Narcissus; for know all men, friend or Philistine, if
you have yet to learn it, my Narcissus is a poet!
First, as to the great question of 'garmenting.' The superstition that
the hat and the cloak 'does it' has gone out in mockery, but only that
the other superstition might reign in its stead--that the hat and cloak
cannot do it. Because one great poet dispensed with 'pontificals,' and
yet brought the fire from heaven, henceforward 'pontificals' are humbug,
and the wearer thereof but charlatan, despite--'the master yonder in
the isle.' Pegasus must pack in favour of a British hunter, and even the
poet at last wear the smug regimentals of mediocrity and mammon. Ye
younger choir especially have a care, for, though you sing with the
tongues of men and angels, and wear not a silk hat, it shall avail you
nothing. Neither Time, which is Mudie, nor Eternity, which is Fame, will
know you, and your verses remain till doom in an ironical _editio
princeps_, which not even the foolish bookman shall rescue from the
threepenny box.
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