Influence and accolades

After a quarter-century of counsel on a range of human affairs, Poor Richard had clearly made an impression on his "middling" contemporaries. In the Autobiography, Franklin modestly accepted credit for spearheading an economic upswing with "The Way to Wealth": "In Pennsylvania, as it discouraged useless expense in foreign Superfluities, some thought, it had its share of Influence in producing that growing Plenty of Money which was observable for several Years after its publication."

In a similar vein, Palmeri examines Richard's political impact, especially after 1749, the year Franklin expanded the almanac to create Poor Richard Improved. Besides unifying the calendar poems, he incorporated short essays on scientific and historical themes. The work took on a "strongly Whiggish" flavor, says Palmeri, paying tribute to such Whig luminaries as Locke and Addison and exposing the corruption of the British monarchy. He credits Poor Richard Improved and the politically charged almanacs that succeeded it with shaping the "idea of an American nation and the ideal hardworking citizen of that nation."

Chris Looby affirms Richard's far-reaching cultural influence in his biography, Benjamin Franklin. Says Looby, "The proverbs and maxims in Poor Richard's [Almanack] were endlessly quoted and repeated over the years until they became the `common sense' of millions of Americans.... Franklin must be credited, therefore, with forming... a large part of the characteristic outlook and values of a burgeoning popular culture. He was America's first pop philosopher and moralist, the precursor to such men as Mark Twain and Horatio Alger."

Poor Richard's aura prevailed through the American Revolution and beyond, as evidenced by an accolade bestowed upon him by John Paul Jones. The famed naval fighter christened his warship Bonhomme Richard, the sobriquet by which Poor Richard was fondly known to the French.

Given this hold on the sensibilities of a newborn nation, Poor Richard and his famous creator inevitably came under fire when the nation paused to examine itself beginning in the nineteenth century. In his "Commentary on Poor Richard's Almanack," included in The Autobiography and Other Writings, Frank Donovan declares that "The Way to Wealth" generated "a mistaken image of [Franklin] that was passed down to posterity" – that of a "priggish, parsimonious money grubber." Donovan assails that view as entirely false, arguing that Franklin spurned untold riches by refusing to patent his inventions, doing so because he felt that "any invention which benefited his fellow man should be made available for the public good."

While Franklin attracted his share of personal criticism in the century following his death, his creed evoked a harsher judgment. Barbour discusses a long-running tradition of rebuke for the capitalist principles incarnated by Poor Richard and complemented by the rags to riches story told in the Autobiography. He begins with the transcendentalist writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, remarking that "it is possible to say that [Emerson's] whole career was a quarrel with the Franklinian spirit and the Franklinian dream." Moreover, Barbour explains that "what [Emerson] saw and feared in the Franklinian outlook was not just acquisitiveness but moral complacency, a satisfaction with the ordinary self, apparently validated by economic achievement."

Franklin's most scornful and well-known critic, however, was British novelist D.H. Lawrence. With his passionate refrain that "the soul of man is a dark, vast forest," Lawrence launched a scathing attack on Franklin's "dreary theme" of human perfectibility in Studies in Classic American Literature (excerpted by Barbour). Lawrence reflects that "it has taken me many years and countless smarts to get out of that barbed wire moral enclosure that Poor Richard rigged up." With a brazen "loud curse against Benjamin and the American corral," he offers alternatives to thirteen of Richard's soul-binding adages. On sexuality, for instance, whereas Richard says, "Rarely use venery but for health and offspring," Lawrence responds, "Never 'use' venery at all. Follow your passional impulse, if it be answered in the other being." Lawrence accused Franklin of reducing the human spirit to a level of triteness, exploiting God as "the everlasting [John] Wanamaker," and setting Him "aloft on a pillar of dollars." Though failing to give Franklin credit for his many thought-provoking passages, Lawrence did expose the general shortcomings of Richard's pithy adages. Indeed, these are at times pragmatic to a fault, lacking a sense of passion and individualism.

In the final analysis, however, Poor Richard's contributions must be taken in context. With his timeless wit, Franklin brought comfort and inspiration to a populace in its infancy, one struggling to gain an economic foothold and a sense of self. While the Almanack grew and changed over the years, Poor Richard remained steadfast in his homage to the common folk, exalting their everyday toils while inviting them to laugh at themselves in the process. He was thus clearly right for the times. The revulsion that later erupted toward the Franklinian creed likewise marked a healthy progression in the nation's growth, a time for reassessing values. That Americans still enjoy the intellectual freedom to argue their convictions – and to laugh at themselves in the process – bespeaks the blessings of a culture upon which Poor Richard made his mark.

2. Read the poem below and decide how to translate NEVERMORE into Russian.

THE RAVEN
by Edgar Allan Poe (1845)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door –

Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
''Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-

Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!

__________________________________________________________________

READ MORE – FOREVER MORE! – ABOUT THE ABOVE AUTHORS IN:

1. Brodey, K. Malgaretti, F. Focus on English and American Literature. – M.: Айрис-пресс, 2003.

2. Gower, P. Past and Present. An Anthology of British and American Literature. – Longman, 1995.

Дата добавления: 2014-01-05