"or plunge head foremost, in neglect of all this, whither they
little dream as yet!--

"But I think all real Poets, to this hour, are Psalmists and
Iliadists after their sort; and have in them a divine impatience
of lies, a divine incapacity of living among lies. Likewise, which
is a corollary, that the highest Shakspeare producible is properly
the fittest Historian producible;--and that it is frightful to
see the Gelehrte Dummkopf [what we here may
translate, DRYASDUST] doing the function of History, and the
Shakspeare and the Goethe neglecting it. 'Interpreting events;'
interpreting the universally visible, entirely INdubitable
Revelation of the Author of this Universe: how can Dryasdust
interpret such things, the dark chaotic dullard, who knows the
meaning of nothing cosmic or noble, nor ever will know?
Poor wretch, one sees what kind of meaning HE educes from Man's
History, this long while past, and has got all the world to
believe of it along with him. Unhappy Dryasdust, thrice-unhappy
world that takes Dryasdust's reading of the ways of God!
But what else was possible? They that could have taught better
were engaged in fiddling; for which there are good wages going.
And our damage therefrom, our DAMAGE,--yes, if thou be still human
and not cormorant,--perhaps it will transcend all Californias,
English National Debts, and show itself incomputable in continents
of Bullion!--

"Believing that mankind are not doomed wholly to dog-like
annihilation, I believe that much of this will mend. I believe
that the world will not always waste its inspired men in mere
fiddling to it. That the man of rhythmic nature will feel more and