lessons, too, which required most time and trouble to bring up, so as to escape his censure. I learned from him that poetry, even that of the loftiest, and, seemingly, that of the wildest odes, had a logic of its own, as severe as that of science; and more difficult, because more subtle, more complex, and dependent on more, and more fugitive, causes. In the truly great poets, he would say, there is a reason assignable, not only for every word, but for the position of every word.'1 In addition to perfect observation, and strict comparison, the student must cultivate the habit of illustrating every general statement he makes, by one or more specific examples. In the discussion of literature, this involves some familiarity with a number of the best models. Observation, comparison, and specific illustration are the means through which one may ultimately arrive at certitude of literary judgment. Such certitude, however, is ordinarily a matter of slow attainment. On this head, listen to Wordsworth : 'An accurate taste in poetry, and in all the other arts, ... is an acquired talent, which can only be produced by Compare Professor 1 Biographia Literaria (ed. Shawcross) 1. 4. Gildersleeve on Pindar (Warner's Library of the World's Best Literature 20. 11490): Pindar's noble compounds and his bold metaphors give splendor and vitality to his style; his narrative has a swift and strong movement; and his moral lessons are couched in words of oracular impressiveness. All this needs no demonstration; and so far as details go, Pindar appeals to every lover of poetry. 'And yet, as he himself has said, his song needs interpreters. His transitions are bold, and it is hard to follow his flight. Hence he has been set down as lawless; and modern "Pindarists" have considered themselves free from the laws of consecutive thought and the shackles of metrical symmetry. But whatever the freedom of Pindar's thought, his odes are built on the strictest principles of metrical form; strophe severe thought, and a long continued intercourse with the best models of composition. This is mentioned, not with so ridiculous a purpose as to prevent the most inexperienced reader from judging for himself, but merely to temper the rashness of decision, and to suggest that if poetry be a subject on which much time has not been bestowed, the judgment may be erroneous, and that in many cases it necessarily will be so.'1 So much for method. What, now, is the aim of literary study? Since literature is a liberal art, its function must be in some way connected with liberty; and since. the study of literature belongs among the humanities, it must, if properly pursued, tend to make the student more humane; that is, more thoughtful, more reverent, and more fearless more wise, sympathetic, and just. As a liberal art, poetry helps to free us from the slavery of fear; as a humane art, it disentangles us from the bestial part of our natures, and renders us more like the best and happiest, the most typical, men. The destiny of his poems, declares Wordsworth, is 'to console the afflicted; to add sunshine to daylight, by making the happy happier; to teach the young and the gracious of every age to see, to think and feel, and, therefore, to become more actively and securely virtuous.' 2 Or, what amounts to the same thing, the end of his poetry, as of all good poetry, is to arouse, and make lasting, a pleasure that is not 44 is answered by antistrophe, epode responds to epode, bar to bar. The more one studies the metres, the more one marvels at the delicate and precise workmanship. But when one turns to the thought, the story, then the symmetry becomes less evident- and yet it is there.' 1 Wordsworth's Literary Criticism, pp. 2, 39. 2 Ibid., p. 48. servile, that only a free and humane, or civilized, man can enjoy. Thus he writes to a friend: 'It is plain from your letter that the pleasure which I have given you has not been blind or unthinking; you have studied the poems, and prove that you have entered into the spirit of them. They have not given you a cheap or vulgar pleasure. You have given me praise for having reflected faithfully in my poems the feelings of human nature. I would fain hope that I have done so. But a great poet ought to do more than this; he ought, to a certain degree, to rectify men's feelings, to give them new compositions of feeling, to render their feelings more sane, pure, and permanent, in short, more consothat is, to eternal nature, and the great nant to nature moving spirit of things.'1 1 Wordsworth's Literary Criticism, pp. 3, 7. Extract No. V, by Lane Cooper, is taken from the pamphlet mentioned above in the Preface. III EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS OF I. WORDSWORTH TO R. P. GILLIES If you write more blank verse, pray pay particular attention to your versification, especially as to the pauses on the first, second, third, eighth, and ninth syllables. These pauses should never be introduced for convenience, and not often for the sake of variety merely, but for some especial effect of harmony or emphasis.1 II. WORDSWORTH TO WILLIAM ROWAN You will have no pain to suffer from my sincerity. With a safe conscience I can assure you that, in my judgment, your verses are animated with true poetic spirit, as they are evidently the product of strong feeling. The sixth and seventh stanzas affected me much, even to the dimming of my eye, and faltering of my voice while I was reading them aloud. . . . You will not, I am sure, 1 Letters of the Wordsworth Family (ed. Knight) 2. 94. be hurt when I tell you that the workmanship is not what it ought to be: Some touch of human sympathy find way, And whisper that while Truth's and Science' ray Sympathy might whisper, but a touch of sympathy could not. 'Truth's and Science' ray,' for the ray of Truth and Science, is not only extremely harsh, but a 'ray shone' is, if not absolutely a pleonasm, a great awkwardness; a ray may be said to 'fall' or 'shoot'; and a sun, or a moon, or a candle to shine,' but not a ray. . If I have the pleasure of seeing you again, I will beg permission to dissect these verses, or any other you may be inclined to show me; but I am certain that . . . your own high powers of mind will lead you to the main conclusions; you will be brought to acknowledge that the logical faculty has infinitely more to do with poetry than the young and the inexperienced, whether writer or critic, ever dreams of. Indeed, as the materials upon which that faculty is exercised in poetry are so subtle, so plastic, so complex, the application of it requires an adroitness. which can proceed from nothing but practice; a discernment which emotion is so far from bestowing that at first it is ever in the way of it. . . . But shall despondence therefore blench my brow, Or pining sorrow sickly ardor o'er. These are two of the worst lines in mere expression. 'Blench' is perhaps miswritten for 'blanch'; if not, I don't understand the word. Blench signifies to flinch. If 'blanch' be the word, the next ought to be 'hair.' |