ence blasted out of its torpor, but to be soothed and
caressed, to be lulled with sweet sounds, to be wooed into
forgetfulness, to be tickled under the metaphysical chin. My favorite
poem is Lizette Woodworth Reese's "Tears," which, as a statement of
fact, seems to me to be as idiotic as the Book of Revelation. The poetry
I regard least is such stuff as that of Robert Browning and Matthew
Arnold, which argues and illuminates. I dislike poetry of intellectual
content as much as I dislike women of intellectual content--and for the
same reason.

XXXIII

WILD SHOTS

If I had the time, and there were no sweeter follies offering, I should
like to write an essay on the books that have quite failed of achieving
their original purposes, and are yet of respectable use and potency for
other purposes. For example, the Book of Revelation. The obvious aim of
the learned author of this work was to bring the early Christians into
accord by telling them authoritatively what to expect and hope for; its
actual effect during eighteen hundred years has been to split them into
a multitude of camps, and so set them to denouncing, damning, jailing
and murdering one another. Again, consider the autobiography of
Benvenuto Cellini. Ben wrote it to prove that he was an honest man, a
mirror of all the virtues, an injured innocent; the world, reading it,
hails him respectfully as the noblest, the boldest, the gaudiest liar
that ever lived. Again, turn to "Gulliver's Travels." The thing was
planned by its rev. author as a devastating satire, a terrible piece of
cynicism; it survives as a story-book for sucklings. Yet again, there is
"Hamlet." Shakespeare wrote it frankly to make money for a theatrical
manager; it has lost money for theatrical managers ever since. Yet
again, there is Caesar's "De Bello Gallico." Julius composed it to
thrill and arouse the Romans; its sole use today is to stupefy and
sicken schoolboys. Finally, there is the celebrated book of General F.
von Bernhardi. He wrote it to inflame Germany; its effect was to inflame
England....

The list might be lengthened almost _ad infinitum_. When a man writes a
book he fires a machine gun into a wood. The game he brings down often
astonishes him, and sometimes horrifies him. Consider the case of
Ibsen.... After my book on Nietzsche I was actually invited to lecture
at Princeton.

XXXIV

BEETHOVEN

Romain Rolland's "Beethoven," one of the cornerstones of his celeb