im evil. Wit is not worldly wisdom. A
man gazing on the stars is proverbially at the mercy of the puddles on
the road. A man may be able to disentangle intricate problems, be able
to recall the past, and yet be cozened by an ordinary knave. The finest
expression will not liquidate a butcher's account. If Apollo puts his
name to a bill, he must meet it when it becomes due, or go into the
gazette. Armies are not always cheering on the heights which they have
won; there are forced marches, occasional shortness of provisions,
bivouacs on muddy plains, driving in of pickets, and the like, although
these inglorious items are forgotten when we read the roll of victories
inscribed on their banners. The books of the great writer are only
portions of the great writer. His life acts on his writings; his
writings react on his life. His life may impoverish his books; his books
may impoverish his life.

"Apollo's branch that might have grown full straight,"

may have the worm of a vulgar misery gnawing at its roots. The heat of
inspiration may be subtracted from the household fire; and those who sit
by it may be the colder in consequence. A man may put all his good
things in his books, and leave none for his life, just as a man may
expend his fortune on a splendid dress, and carry a pang of hunger
beneath it.

There are few less exhilarating books than the biographies of men of
letters, and of artists generally; and this arises from the pictures of
comparative defeat which, in almost every instance, such books contain.
In these books we see failure more or less,--seldom clear, victorious
effort. If the art is exquisite, the marble is flawed; if the marble is
pure, there is defect in art. There is always something lacking in the
poem; there is always irremediable defect in the picture. In the
biography we see persistent, passionate effort, and almost constant
repulse. If, on the whole, victory is gained, one wing of the army has
been thrown into confusion. In the life of a successful farmer, for
instance, one feels nothing of this kind; his year flows on harmoniously,
fortunately; through ploughing, seed-time, growth of grain, the yellowing
of it beneath meek autumn suns and big autumn moons, the cutting of it
down, riotous harvest-home, final sale, and large balance at the
banker's. From the point of view of almost unvarying success the
farmer's life becomes beautiful, poetic. Everything is an aid and help
to h