INTRODUCTION. I. WHAT IS POETRY? The Scientific temper of our time.-The temper of our time is essentially scientific. The discoveries of a host of investigators have not only passed into the popular mind, but changed its whole attitude. Where our fathers believed, we ask for cause or reason; for what they took on trust, we demand the why and the wherefore. There is nothing, we feel, which does not admit of explanation if investigation could only come at it. Exceptions may be pointed out which contradict accepted theories. Such cases necessitate the correction but not the abandonment of our idea of law. As Professor Caird has said: "Under the acknowledged reign of law the world is a connected drama, in which there is no place for episodes." To the men of science we owe a debt of gratitude for their contributions to greater clearness and sanity, for the suppression of many superstitions which impeded the progress of our predecessors, and for re-calling men from the pursuit of metaphysical Will-o'-the-wisps and theological Jack-o'-lanterns to the firm and certain path of experience. The apparent opposition of Science and Poetry.-A lingering superstition which science, it would seem, is destined to extirpate, is the love of poetry. In his Essay on Milton, Macaulay says: "We think that as civilization advances, poetry almost necessarily declines. In proportion as men know more and think more, they look less at individuals and more at classes. They therefore make better theories and worse poems. They may be better able to analyze human nature than their predecessors. But analysis is not the business of the poet. His office is to portray, not to dissect. In an enlightened age there will be much intelligence, much science, much philosophy, abundance of wit and eloquence, abundance of verses, and even of good ones-but little poetry." A more recent writer-Max Nordau-in his book entitled Degeneration, speaks thus contemptuously of the prospect of art: "As to the future of art and literature, with which these inquiries are chiefly concerned, that can be predicted with tolerable clearness. I resist the temptation of looking into too remote a future. Otherwise I should perhaps prove, or at least show as very probable, that in the mental life of centuries far ahead of us, art and poetry will occupy but a very insignificant place. Psychology teaches us that the course of development is from instinct to knowledge, from emotion to judgment, from rambling to regulated association of ideas. Attention replaces fugitive ideation; will, guided by reason, replaces caprice. Observation then triumphs ever more and more over imagination, and artistic symbolism, i.e., the introduction of erroneous personal interpretations of the universe, is more and more driven back by an understanding of the laws of nature. On the other hand, the march hitherto followed by civilization gives us an idea of the fate which may be reserved for art and poetry in a very distant future. That which originally was the most important occupation of men of full mental development, of the maturest, best and wisest members of society, becomes little by little a subordinate pastime, and finally a child's amusement. Dancing was formerly an extremely important affair. It was performed on certain grand occasions as a state function of the first order, with solemn ceremonies, after sacrifices and invocations to the gods by the leading warriors of the tribe. To-day it is no more than a fleeting pastime for women and youths, and later on its last atavistic survival will be the dancing of children. The fable and the fairy tale were once the highest productions of the human mind. In them the most hidden wisdom of the tribe, and its most precious traditions, were expressed. To-day they represent a species of literature only cultivated for the nursery. The verse which by rhythm, figurative expression and rhyme trebly betrays its origin in the stimulations of rhythmically functioning subordinate organs, in association of ideas working according to external similitudes, and in that working according to consonance, was originally the only form of literature. To-day it is only employed for purely emotional portrayal; for all other purposes it has been conquered by prose, and indeed has almost passed into the condition of an atavistic language. Under our very eyes the novel is being increasingly degraded, serious and highly cultivated men scarcely deeming it worthy of attention, and it appeals more and more exclusively to the young and to women. From all these examples it is fair to conclude that after some centuries, art and poetry will have become pure atavisms, and will no longer be cultivated except by the more emotional portion of humanity-by women, by the young, perhaps even by children." It is true that at the present moment poetry seems extinct, but is this more than a temporary eclipse? Does it belong to the infancy of the race? Is it an atavistic survival, an anachronism in our modern world? Must it be relegated to the nursery like the fable and the fairy tale and finally disappear like many another thing once beautiful, now antiquated and obsolescent? Has the kingdom of science come and the kingdom of imagination passed away? Will all color be merged in "the drab of the earnest, prosaic, practical, austerely literal future?" Illustration of the difference between Science and Poetry.—In Literature and Dogma, Matthew Arnold defines religion as 'morality touched by emotion" and illustrates the distinction as follows: "By the dispensation of Providence to mankind,' says Quintilian, 'goodness gives men most satisfaction.' That is morality. "The path of the just is as the shining light which shineth more and more unto the perfect day.' That is morality touched with emotion, or religion. 'Hold off from sensuality,' says Cicero, for if you have given yourself up to it, you will find yourself unable to think of anything else.' That is morality. 'Blessed are the pure in heart,' says Jesus Christ, "for they shall see God.' That is religion. We all want to live honestly, but cannot,' says the Greek maxim-maker. That is morality. '0 wretched man, who shall deliver me from the body of this death,' says St. Paul. That is religion. Would thou wert of as good conversation in deed as in word' is morality. 'Not every one that sayeth unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he that doeth the will of my father which is in heaven' is religion. 'Live as you were meant to live' is morality. 'Lay hold of eternal life' is religion. "Or we may take the contrast within the bounds of the Bible itself. 'Love not sleep, lest thou come to poverty,' is morality; but 'My meat is to do the will of him that sent me and to finish his work' is religion. Or we may even observe a third stage between these two stages, which shows to us the transition from the one to the other. 'If thou givest thy soul the desires that please her, she will make thee a laughing stock to thine enemies.' That is morality. He that resisteth pleasure crowneth his life.' That is morality with the tone heightened, passing or trying to pass into religion. Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.' There the passage is made and we have religion." Adopting Arnold's simple and effective method, we may define poetry as thought, science, touched by emotion, and illustrate the difference as follows: : The geographer calls the earth an oblate spheroid. That is science. Wordsworth calls it "the mighty mother of mankind." That is poetry. "The sum total of matter in the universe is a constant quantity," is science. is poetry. The one remains, the many change and pass; Heaven's light for ever shines, earth's shadows fly, "The slightest displacement of matter on the surface of the earth involves, on the theory of gravitation, a readjustment of forces throughout the solar system," is science. is poetry. There's not the smallest orb which thou beholdest, But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins, "The energy of the universe is a constant quantity," is science. is poetry. Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong, And the most ancient heavens Through thee are fresh and strong, "Change of season, and, consequently, vegetation, are owing to the earth's annual movement about the sun, combined with her inclination to the plane of her orbit," is science. is poetry. Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragance in thy footing treads, "The earth was originally cast forth from the sun, a glowing mass nnfit for human or other habitation. Cooling down, it at length reached a condition when human beings could appear, developed from lower organisms. The cooling process is still going on and must ultimately make the planet again unfit for human beings. The race will then disappear, the earth itself will drop into the sun or be otherwise broken up, to be again cast forth and re-embodied in new forms." That is prose. That is poetry. And like the baseless fabric of this vision, As dreams are made of; and our little life "With what tenderly reminiscent feelings two old school-fellows meet after years of separation," is prose. is poetry. We twa hae paidl't in the burn, From morning sun till dine, But oceans braid between us raired, Sin' Auld Lang Syne, "Had they never met they would have escaped much sorrow and anguish, but their latent possibilities of deepest affection would have remained dormant," is prose. "Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all. The thought has been partially suffused and illuminated with emotion. We had ne'er been broken-hearted. Here the piercing plaintiveness of the tone will not let us forget either the lovers' raptures, or the sadness of their separation. That is poetry. "Honesty is the best policy," is prose almost repellant in its bald philistinism. "There is a stream of tendency by which all things fulfil the law of their being;" in this we have a perceptible heightening of the tone. "There is a moral order of the universe which it is a man's happiness to go along with, and his misery to go counter to." There is here a further access of emotion, an additional heightening of the tone, but the passage still falls short of genuine poetry. "Clouds and darkness are round about him; righteousness and judgment are the habitations of his seat." The divine afflatus has breathed upon it, the passage has been made and we have poetry. "It is a matter of common observation that mental energy is not a fixed quantity but varies from day to day, even from hour to hour," is a plain statement of fact. "Facilities and felicities whence do they come; suggestions and stimulations whither do they tend?" The tone is heightened, passing or trying to pass into poetry : The awful shadow of some unseen power As summer winds that creep from flower to flower. Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower, It visits with inconstant glance Each human heart and countenance; Like hues and harmonies of evening, Like clouds in starlight widely spread, Like memory of music fled, Like aught that for its grace may be There the passage has been made and we have poetry. |