May 11, 1895. A Prelude to Poetry.
"To those who love the poets most, who care most for their ideals,
this little book ought to be the one indispensable book of devotion,
the _credo_ of the poetic faith." "This little book" is the volume
with which Mr. Ernest Rhys prefaces the pretty series of Lyrical Poets
which he is editing for Messrs. Dent & Co. He calls it _The Prelude to
Poetry_, and in it he has brought together the most famous arguments
stated from time to time by the English poets in defence and praise of
their own art. Sidney's magnificent "Apologie" is here, of course, and
two passages from Ben Jonson's "Discoveries," Wordsworth's preface to
the second edition of "Lyrical Ballads," the fourteenth chapter of the
"Biographia Literaria," and Shelley's "Defence."
Poets as Prose-writers.
What admirable prose these poets write! Southey, to be sure, is not
represented in this volume. Had he written at length upon his art--in
spite of his confession that, when writing prose, "of what is now
called style not a thought enters my head at any time"--we may be sure
the reflection would have been even more obvious than it is. But
without him this small collection makes out a splendid case against
all that has been said in disparagement of the prose style of poets.
Let us pass what Hazlitt said of Coleridge's prose; or rather let us
quote it once again for its vivacity, and so pass on--
"One of his (Coleridge's) sentences winds its 'forlorn way
obscure' over the page like a patriarchal procession with camels
laden, wreathed turbans, household wealth, the whole riches of
the author's mind poured out upon the barren waste of his
subject. The palm tree spreads its sterile branches overhead, and
the land of promise is seen in the distance."
All this is very neatly malicious, and particularly the last
co-ordinate sentence. But in the chapter chosen by Mr. Rhys from the
"Biographia Literaria" Coleridge's prose is seen at its
best--obedient, pertinent, at once imaginative and restrained--as in
the conclusion--
"Finally, good sense is the body of poetic genius, fancy its
drapery, motion its life, and imagination the soul that is
everywhere, and in each; and forms all into one graceful and
intelligent whole."
The prose of Sidney's _Apologie_ is Sidney's best; and when that has
been said, nothing remains but to economize in quoting. I will take
three specimens only. First then, for beauty:--
"Nature never set forth the earth in so rich tapistry, as divers
Poets have done, neither with plesant rivers, fruitful trees,
sweet-smelling flowers: nor whatsoever else may make the too much
loved earth more lovely. Her world is brasen, the Poets only
deliver a golden: but let those things alone and goe to man, for
whom as the other things are, so it seemeth in him her uttermost
cunning is imployed, and know whether shee have brought forth so
true a lover as _Theagines_, so constant a friende as _Pilades_,
so valiant a man as _Orlando_, so right a Prince as _Xenophon's
Cyrus_; so excellent a man every way as _Virgil's Aeneas_...."