wagingwaruponVicesolelyonthegroundofherdeformityherdisproportionheranimositytothefitting,totheappropriate,totheharmoniousinaword,toBeauty。
AnimmortalinstinctdeepwithinthespiritofmanisthusplainlyasenseoftheBeautiful。Thisitiswhichadministerstohisdelightinthemanifoldforms,andsounds,andodorsandsentimentsamidwhichheexists。
Andjustasthelilyisrepeatedinthelake,ortheeyesofAmaryllisinthemirror,soisthemereoralorwrittenrepetitionoftheseforms,andsounds,andcolors,andodors,andsentimentsaduplicatesourceofde“
light。Butthismererepetitionisnotpoetry。Hewhoshallsimplysing,withhoweverglowingenthusiasm,orwithhowevervividatruthofdescription,ofthesights,andsounds,andodors,andcolors,andsentimentswhichgreet_him_incommonwithallmankindhe,Isay,hasyetfailedtoprovehisdivinetitle。Thereisstillasomethinginthedistancewhichhehasbeenunabletoattain。Wehavestillathirstunquenchable,toallaywhichhehasnotshownusthecrystalsprings。ThisthirstbelongstotheimmortalityofMan。Itisatonceaconsequenceandanindicationofhisperennialexistence。Itisthedesireofthemothforthestar。ItisnomereappreciationoftheBeautybeforeus,butawildefforttoreachtheBeautyabove。Inspiredbyanecstaticprescienceofthegloriesbeyondthegrave,westrugglebymultiformcombinationsamongthethingsandthoughtsofTimetoattainaportionofthatLovelinesswhoseveryelementsperhapsappertaintoeternityalone。AndthuswhenbyPoetry,orwhenbyMusic,themostentrancingofthepoeticmoods,wefindourselvesmeltedintotears,weweepthen,notastheAbbateGravinasupposes,throughexcessofpleasure,butthroughacertainpetulant,impatientsorrowatourinabilitytograspnow,wholly,hereonearth,atonceandforever,thosedivineandrapturousjoysofwhich_through’_thepoem,or_through_themusic,weattaintobutbriefandindeterminateglimpses。
ThestruggletoapprehendthesupernalLovelinessthisstruggle,onthepartofsoulsfittinglyconstitutedhasgiventotheworldall_that_whichittheworldhaseverbeenenabledatoncetounderstandand_tofeel_aspoetic。
ThePoeticSentiment,ofcourse,maydevelopitselfinvariousmodesinPainting,inSculpture,inArchitecture,intheDanceveryespeciallyinMusicandverypeculiarly,andwithawidefield,inthecompositionoftheLandscapeGarden。Ourpresenttheme,however,hasregardonlytoitsmanifestationinwords。Andhereletmespeakbrieflyonthetopicofrhythm。ContentingmyselfwiththecertaintythatMusic,initsvariousmodesofmetre,rhythm,andrhyme,isofsovastamomentinPoetryasnevertobewiselyrejectedissovitallyimportantanadjunct,thatheissimplysillywhodeclinesitsassistance,Iwillnotnowpausetomaintainitsabsoluteessentiality。ItisinMusicperhapsthatthesoulmostnearlyattainsthegreatendforwhich,wheninspiredbythePoeticSentiment,itstrugglesthecreationofsupernalBeauty。
It_may_be,indeed,thatherethissublimeendis,nowandthen,attainedin_fact。_Weareoftenmadetofeel,withashiveringdelight,thatfromanearthlyharparestrickennoteswhich_cannot_havebeenunfamiliartotheangels。AndthustherecanbelittledoubtthatintheunionofPoetrywithMusicinitspopularsense,weshallfindthewidestfieldforthePoeticdevelopment。TheoldBardsandMinnesingershadadvantageswhichwedonotpossessandThomasMoore,singinghisownsongs,was,inthemostlegitimatemanner,perfectingthemaspoems。
Torecapitulatethen:Iwoulddefine,inbrief,thePoetryofwordsas_TheRhythmicalCreationofBeauty。_ItssolearbiterisTaste。WiththeIntellectorwiththeConscienceithasonlycollateralrelations。
Unlessincidentally,ithasnoconcernwhatevereitherwithDutyorwithTruth。
Afewwords,however,inexplanation。_That_pleasurewhichisatoncethemostpure,themostelevating,andthemostintense,isderived,I
maintain,fromthecontemplationoftheBeautiful。InthecontemplationofBeautywealonefinditpossibletoattainthatpleasurableelevation,orexcitement_ofthesoul,_whichwerecognizeasthePoeticSentiment,andwhichissoeasilydistinguishedfromTruth,whichisthesatisfactionoftheReason,orfromPassion,whichistheexcitementoftheheart。ImakeBeauty,thereforeusingthewordasinclusiveofthesublimeImakeBeautytheprovinceofthepoem,simplybecauseitisanobviousruleofArtthateffectsshouldbemadetospringasdirectlyaspossiblefromtheircauses:nooneasyethavingbeenweakenoughtodenythatthepeculiarelevationinquestionisatleast_mostreadily_attainableinthepoem。Itbynomeansfollows,however,thattheincitementsofPassion’orthepreceptsofDuty,oreventhelessonsofTruth,maynotbeintroducedintoapoem,andwithadvantage;fortheymaysubserveincidentally,invariousways,thegeneralpurposesofthework:butthetrueartistwillalwayscontrivetotonethemdowninpropersubjectiontothat_Beauty_whichistheatmosphereandtherealessenceofthepoem。
IcannotbetterintroducethefewpoemswhichIshallpresentforyourconsideration,thanbythecitationoftheProemtoLongfellow’s“Waif“:
Thedayisdone,andthedarknessFallsfromthewingsofNight,AsafeatheriswafteddownwardFromanEagleinhisflight。
IseethelightsofthevillageGleamthroughtherainandthemist,Andafeelingofsadnesscomeso’erme,Thatmysoulcannotresist;
Afeelingofsadnessandlonging,Thatisnotakintopain,AndresemblessorrowonlyAsthemistresemblestherain。
Come,readtomesomepoem,Somesimpleandheartfeltlay,Thatshallsoothethisrestlessfeeling,Andbanishthethoughtsofday。
Notfromthegrandoldmasters,Notfromthebardssublime,WhosedistantfootstepsechoThroughthecorridorsofTime。
For,likestrainsofmartialmusic,TheirmightythoughtssuggestLife’sendlesstoilandendeavor;
Andto-nightIlongforrest。
Readfromsomehumblerpoet,Whosesongsgushedfromhisheart,Asshowersfromthecloudsofsummer,Ortearsfromtheeyelidsstart;
Whothroughlongdaysoflabor,Andnightsdevoidofease,StillheardinhissoulthemusicOfwonderfulmelodies。
SuchsongshavepowertoquietTherestlesspulseofcare,AndcomelikethebenedictionThatfollowsafterprayer。
ThenreadfromthetreasuredvolumeThepoemofthychoice,AndlendtotherhymeofthepoetThebeautyofthyvoice。
Andthenightshallbefilledwithmusic,AndthecaresthatinfestthedayShallfoldtheirtentsliketheArabs,Andassilentlystealaway。
Withnogreatrangeofimagination,theselineshavebeenjustlyadmiredfortheirdelicacyofexpression。Someoftheimagesareveryeffective。Nothingcanbebetterthan-
thebardssublime,WhosedistantfootstepsechoDownthecorridorsofTime。
Theideaofthelastquatrainisalsoveryeffective。Thepoemonthewhole,however,ischieflytobeadmiredforthegraceful_insouciance_ofitsmetre,sowellinaccordancewiththecharacterofthesentiments,andespeciallyforthe_ease_ofthegeneralmanner。This“ease“ornaturalness,inaliterarystyle,ithaslongbeenthefashiontoregardaseaseinappearancealoneasapointofreallydifficultattainment。
Butnotso:anaturalmannerisdifficultonlytohimwhoshouldnevermeddlewithittotheunnatural。Itisbuttheresultofwritingwiththeunderstanding,orwiththeinstinct,that_thetone,_incomposition,shouldalwaysbethatwhichthemassofmankindwouldadoptandmustperpetuallyvary,ofcourse,withtheoccasion。Theauthorwho,afterthefashionof“TheNorthAmericanReview。”shouldbeupon_all_occasionsmerely“quiet。”mustnecessarilyupon_many_occasionsbesimplysilly,orstupid;andhasnomorerighttobeconsidered“easy“or“natural“thanaCockneyexquisite,orthanthesleepingBeautyinthewaxworks。
AmongtheminorpoemsofBryant,nonehassomuchimpressedmeastheonewhichheentitles“June。”Iquoteonlyaportionofit:
There,throughthelong,longsummerhours,Thegoldenlightshouldlie,AndthickyoungherbsandgroupsofflowersStandintheirbeautyby。
TheorioleshouldbuildandtellHislove-tale,closebesidemycell;
TheidlebutterflyShouldresthimthere,andtherebeheardThehousewife-beeandhummingbird。
Andwhat,ifcheerfulshoutsatnoon,Come,fromthevillagesent,Orsongsofmaids,beneaththemoon,Withfairylaughterblent?
Andwhatif,intheeveninglight,BetrothedloverswalkinsightOfmylowmonument?
IwouldthelovelyscenearoundMightknownosaddersightnorsound。
Iknow,IknowIshouldnotseeTheseason’sgloriousshow,Norwoulditsbrightnessshineforme;
Noritswildmusicflow;
Butif,aroundmyplaceofsleep,ThefriendsIloveshouldcometoweep,Theymightnothastetogo。
Softairsandsong,andthelightandbloom,Shouldkeepthemlingeringbymytomb。
Thesetotheirsoften’dheartsshouldbearThethoughtsofwhathasbeen,AndspeakofonewhocannotshareThegladnessofthescene;
WhosepartinallthepompthatfillsThecircuitofthesummerhills,Isthathisgraveisgreen;
AnddeeplywouldtheirheartsrejoiceTohearagainhislivingvoice。
Therhythmicalflowhereisevenvoluptuousnothingcouldbemoremelodious。Thepoemhasalwaysaffectedmeinaremarkablemanner。Theintensemelancholywhichseemstowellup,perforce,tothesurfaceofallthepoet’scheerfulsayingsabouthisgrave,wefindthrillingustothesoulwhilethereisthetruestpoeticelevationinthethrill。Theimpressionleftisoneofapleasurablesadness。Andif,intheremainingcompositionswhichIshallintroducetoyou,therebemoreorlessofasimilartonealwaysapparent,letmeremindyouthathoworwhyweknownotthiscertaintaintofsadnessisinseparablyconnectedwithallthehighermanifestationsoftrueBeauty。Itis,nevertheless,AfeelingofsadnessandlongingThatisnotakintopain,AndresemblessorrowonlyAsthemistresemblestherain。
ThetaintofwhichIspeakisclearlyperceptibleeveninapoemsofullofbrilliancyandspiritas“TheHealth“ofEdwardCoatePinckney:
IfillthiscuptoonemadeupOflovelinessalone,Awoman,ofhergentlesexTheseemingparagon;
TowhomthebetterelementsAndkindlystarshavegivenAformsofairthat,liketheair,’Tislessofearththanheaven。
Hereverytoneismusic’sown,Likethoseofmorningbirds,AndsomethingmorethanmelodyDwellseverinherwords;
Thecoinageofherheartarethey,AndfromherlipseachflowsAsonemayseetheburden’dbeeForthissuefromtherose。
Affectionsareasthoughtstoher,Themeasuresofherhours;
Herfeelingshavetheflagrancy,Thefreshnessofyoungflowers;
Andlovelypassions,changingoft,Sofillher,sheappearsTheimageofthemselvesbyturns,
Theidolofpastyears!
OfherbrightfaceoneglancewilltraceApictureonthebrain,AndofhervoiceinechoingheartsAsoundmustlongremain;
Butmemory,suchasmineofher,Soverymuchendears,WhendeathisnighmylatestsighWillnotbelife’s,buthers。
Ifill’dthiscuptoonemadeupOflovelinessalone,Awoman,ofhergentlesexTheseemingparagon
Herhealth!andwouldonearththerestood,Somemoreofsuchaframe,Thatlifemightbeallpoetry,Andwearinessaname。
ItwasthemisfortuneofMr。Pinckneytohavebeenborntoofarsouth。
HadhebeenaNewEnglander,itisprobablethathewouldhavebeenrankedasthefirstofAmericanlyristsbythatmagnanimouscabalwhichhassolongcontrolledthedestiniesofAmericanLetters,inconductingthethingcalled“TheNorthAmericanReview。”Thepoemjustcitedisespeciallybeautiful;butthepoeticelevationwhichitinduceswemustreferchieflytooursympathyinthepoet’senthusiasm。Wepardonhishyperbolesfortheevidentearnestnesswithwhichtheyareuttered。
Itwasbynomeansmydesign,however,toexpatiateuponthe_merits_ofwhatIshouldreadyou。Thesewillnecessarilyspeakforthemselves。
Boccalini,inhis“AdvertisementsfromParnassus。”tellsusthatZoilusoncepresentedApolloaverycausticcriticismuponaveryadmirablebook:
whereuponthegodaskedhimforthebeautiesofthework。Herepliedthatheonlybusiedhimselfabouttheerrors。Onhearingthis,Apollo,handinghimasackofunwinnowedwheat,badehimpickout_allthechaff_forhisreward。
NowthisfableanswersverywellasahitatthecriticsbutIambynomeanssurethatthegodwasintheright。Iambynomeanscertainthatthetruelimitsofthecriticaldutyarenotgrosslymisunderstood。
Excellence,inapoemespecially,maybeconsideredinthelightofanaxiom,whichneedonlybeproperly_put,_tobecomeself-evident。Itis_not_excellenceifitrequiretobedemonstratedassuch:andthustopointouttooparticularlythemeritsofaworkofArt,istoadmitthattheyare_not_meritsaltogether。
Amongthe“Melodies“ofThomasMooreisonewhosedistinguishedcharacterasapoemproperseemstohavebeensingularlyleftoutofview。
Ialludetohislinesbeginning“Come,restinthisbosom。”TheintenseenergyoftheirexpressionisnotsurpassedbyanythinginByron。Therearetwoofthelinesinwhichasentimentisconveyedthatembodiesthe_allinall_ofthedivinepassionofLoveasentimentwhich,perhaps,hasfounditsechoinmore,andinmorepassionate,humanheartsthananyothersinglesentimenteverembodiedinwords:
Come,restinthisbosom,myownstrickendeerThoughtheherdhavefledfromthee,thyhomeisstillhere;
Herestillisthesmile,thatnocloudcano’ercast,Andaheartandahandallthyowntothelast。
Oh!whatwaslovemadefor,if’tisnotthesameThroughjoyandthroughtorment,throughgloryandshame?
Iknownot,Iasknot,ifguilt’sinthatheart,IbutknowthatIlovethee,whateverthouart。