Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter III
Inthispoemofyours,youhavenotbeentryingtomakeasoundingpieceofliterature.Youwroteitundertremendousstress.Itsveryimperfectionsshowthat.Itisbetterthanamererhyme.ItisanUtterance—aMessage.ItisTruth.Youhavecomebacktotheprimalheartofthings,andyouhaveseenclearly.Yes,itisagreatpoem.”
“Thankyou,”exclaimedPresleyfervidly.“Ihadbeguntomistrustmyself.”
“Now,”observedVanamee,“Ipresumeyouwillrushitintoprint.Tohaveformulatedagreatthought,simplytohaveaccomplished,isnotenough.”
“IthinkIamsincere,”objectedPresley.“Ifitisgooditwilldogoodtoothers.YousaidyourselfitwasaMessage.Ifithasanyvalue,Idonotthinkitwouldberighttokeepitbackfromevenaverysmallandmostindifferentpublic.”
“Don’tpublishitinthemagazinesatallevents,”Vanameeanswered.“YourinspirationhascomeFROMthePeople.ThenletitgostraightTOthePeople—nottheliteraryreadersofthemonthlyperiodicals,therich,whowouldonlybeindirectlyinterested.Ifyoumustpublishit,letitbeinthedailypress.Don’tinterrupt.Iknowwhatyouwillsay.Itwillbethatthedailypressiscommon,isvulgar,isundignified;andItellyouthatsuchapoemasthisofyours,calledasitis,’TheToilers,’mustbereadBYtheToilers.ItMUSTBEcommon;itmustbevulgarised.YoumustnotstanduponyourdignitywiththePeople,ifyouaretoreachthem.”
“Thatistrue,Isuppose,”Presleyadmitted,“butIcan’tgetridoftheideathatitwouldbethrowingmypoemaway.
