A poet in our times is a
semi-barbarian in a civilized community. He lives in the days that are past.
His ideas, thoughts, feelings, associations, are all with barbarous manners,
obsolete customs, and exploded superstitions. The march of his intellect is
like that of a crab, backward. The brighter the light diffused around him by
the progress of reason, the thicket is the darkness of antiquated barbarism, in
which he buries himself like a mole, to throw up the barren hillocks of his
Cimmerian labours. The philosophic mental tranquillity which looks round with
an equal eye on all external things, collects a store of ideas, discriminates
their relative value, assigns to all their proper place, and from the materials
of useful knowledge thus collected, appreciated, and arranged, forms new
combinations that impress the stamp of their power and utility on the real
business of life, is diametrically the reverse of that frame of mind which
poetry inspires, or from which poetry can emanate. The highest inspirations of
poetry are resolvable into three ingredients: the rant of unregulated passion,
the whining of exaggerated feeling, and the cant of factitious sentiment.... It can never make a philosopher, nor a statesman, nor in
any class of life an useful or rational man. It cannot claim the slightest
share in any one of the comforts and utilities of life of which we have
witnessed so many and so rapid advances. But though not useful, it may be said
it is highly ornamental, and deserves to be cultivated for the pleasure it
yields. Even if this be granted, it does not follow that a writer of poetry in
the present state of society is not a waster of his own time, and a robber of
that of others. Poetry is not one of those arts which, like painting, require
repetition and multiplication, in order to be diffused among society. There are
more good poems already existing than are sufficient to employ that portion of
life which any mere reader and recipient of poetical impressions should devote
to them, and these having been produced in poetical times, are far superior in
all the characteristics of poetry to the artificial reconstructions of a few
morbid ascetics in unpoetical times. To read the promiscuous rubbish of the
present time to the exclusion of the select treasures of the past, is to
substitute the worse for the better variety of the same mode of enjoyment.
But in whatever degree poetry
is cultivated, it must necessarily be to the neglect of some branch of useful
study: and it is a lamentable spectacle to see minds, capable of better things,
running to seed in the specious indolence of these empty aimless mockeries of
intellectual exertion. Poetry was the mental rattle that awakened the attention
of intellect in the infancy of civil society: but for the maturity of mind to
make a serious business of the playthings of its childhood, is as absurd as for
a full-grown man to rub his gums with coral, and cry to be charmed to sleep by
the jingle of silver bells....
Now when we consider that it
is not the thinking and studious, and scientific and philosophical part of the
community, not to those whose minds are bent on the pursuit and promotion of
permanently useful ends and aims, that poets must address their minstrelry, but
to that much larger portion of the reading public, whose minds are not awakened
to the desire of valuable knowledge, and who are indifferent to any thing
beyond being charmed, moved, excited, affected, and exalted: charmed by
harmony, moved by sentiment, excited by passion, affected by pathos, and
exalted by sublimity: harmony, which is language on the rack of Procrustes;
sentiment, which is canting egotism in the mask of refined feeling; passion,
which is the commotion of a weak and selfish mind; pathos, which is the whining
of an unmanly spirit; and sublimity, which is the inflation of an empty head:
when we consider that the great and permanent interests of human society become
more and more the main spring of intellectual pursuit; that in proportion as
they become so, the subordinacy of the ornamental to the useful will be more
and more seen and acknowledged; and that therefore the progress of useful art
and science, and of moral and political knowledge, will continue more and more
to withdraw attention from frivolous and unconducive, to solid and conducive
studies: that therefore the poetical audience will not only continually
diminish in the proportion of its number to that of the rest of the reading
public, but will also sink lower and lower in the comparison of intellectual
acquirement: when we consider that the poet must still please his audience, and
must therefore continue to sink to their level, while the rest of the community
is rising above it: we may easily conceive that the day is not distant, when
the degraded state of every species of poetry will be as generally recognized
as that of dramatic poetry has long been: and this not from any decrease either
of intellectual power, or intellectual acquisition, but because intellectual
power and intellectual acquisition have turned themselves into other and better
channels, and have abandoned the cultivation and the fate of poetry to the
degenerate fry of modern rhymesters, and their olympic judges, the magazine
critics, who continue to debate and promulgate oracles about poetry, as if it
were still what it was in the Homeric age, the all-in-all of intellectual
progression, and as if there were no such things in existence as
mathematicians, astronomers, chemists, moralists, metaphysicians, historians,
politicians, and political economists....
No comments:
Post a Comment
Join the conversation! What is your reaction to the post?