Arthur Guiterman has been called the Owen Seaman of America. Of course
he isn't, any more than Owen Seaman is the Arthur Guiterman of England.
But the verse which brings Arthur Guiterman his daily bread is turned no
less deftly than is that of _Punch's_ famous editor. Arthur Guiterman is
not a humorist who writes verse; he is a poet with an abundant gift of
humor.
Now, the author of _The Antiseptic Baby and the Prophylactic Pup_ and
_The Quest of the Riband_, and of those unforgetable rhymed reviews,
differs from most other poets not only in possessing an abnormally
developed sense of humor, but also in being able to make a comfortable
living out of the sale of his verse. But when he talked to me recently
he was by no means inclined to advise all able young poets to expect
their poetry to provide them with board and lodging.
"Of course it is possible to make a living out of verse," he said. "Walt
Mason does, and so does Berton Braley. And now most of my income comes
from my verse. Formerly I wrote short stories, but I haven't written one
for seven or eight years.
"Nevertheless, I think it is inadvisable for any one to set out with the
idea of depending on the sale of verse as a means of livelihood. You
see, there are, after all, two forms, and only two forms, of literary
expression--the prose form and the verse form. Some subjects suit the
prose form, others suit the verse form. Any one who makes writing his
profession has ideas severally adapted to both of these forms. And every
writer should be able to express his idea in whichever of these two
forms suits it better.
"Now, the verse form is older than the prose form. And so I have come to
look upon it as the form peculiarly attractive to youth. Many writers
outgrew the tendency to use the verse form, but some never outgrew it.
Sir Walter Scott was a verse-writer before he was a prose-writer, and so
was Shakespeare. So were many modern writers--Robert W. Chambers, for
example.
"This theory is true especially in regard to lyric verse. The lyric is
nearly always the work of a young man. As a man grows older he sings
less and preaches more. Certainly this was true of Milton.
"I never thought that I should write verse for a living. But verse
happens to be the medium that I love. I ran across my first poem the
other day--it was about fireflies, and I was eight years old when I
wrote it. Certainly nearly all writers write verse before they write
prose; perhaps it is atavistic. I don't know that Henry James began with
verse. But I would be willing to bet that he did.
"One trouble with a great many people who make a living out of writing
verse is that they feel obliged always to be verse-writers, never to
write prose, even when the subject demands that medium. Alfred Noyes
gives us an example of this unfortunate tendency in his _Drake_. I am
not disparaging Alfred Noyes's work; he has written charming lyrics, but
in _Drake_, and perhaps in some of the _Tales from the Mermaid Tavern_,
I feel that he has written verse not because the subject was especially
suited to that medium, but because he felt that he was a verse-writer
and therefore should not write prose."
Mr. Guiterman is firmly convinced, however, that a verse-writer ought to
be able, in time, to make a living out of his work.
"If a man calls himself a writer," he said, "he ought to be able to make
a living out of writing. And I think that the writer of verse has a
greater opportunity to-day than ever before. I don't mean to say that
the appreciation of poetry is more intense than ever before, but it is
more general. More people are reading poetry now than in bygone
generations.
"Compare with the traditions that we have to-day those of the early
nineteenth century, of the time of Byron and Sir Walter Scott. Then
books of verse sold in large quantities, it is true, but to a relatively
small public, to one class of readers. Now not only the poet, but also
the verse-writer has an enormous public. If a really great poet should
arise to-day he would find awaiting him a larger public than that known
by any poet of the past. But it would be necessary for the poet to be
great for him to find this public. Byron would be more generally
appreciated to-day, if he were to live again, than he was in his own
generation. I mention Byron because I think it probable that the next
great poet will have something of Byron's dynamic quality."
"Who was the last great poet?" I asked.
"How is one to decide whether or not a poet is great?" asked Mr.
Guiterman in turn. "My own feeling is that the late William Vaughn Moody
was a great poet in the making. Perhaps he never really fulfilled his
early promise; perhaps he went back to the themes of bygone ages too
much in finding themes for his poetry. It may be that the next really
great poet will sing an entirely different strain; it may be that I will
be one of those who will say that his work is all bosh.
"But at any rate, he won't be an imitation Whitman or anything of that
sort. He won't be any special school, nor will he think that he is
founding a school. But it may be that his admirers will found a school
with him as its leader, and they may force him to take himself
seriously, and thus ruin himself."
Returning to the subject of the advisability of a writer being able to
express himself in verse as well as in prose, Mr. Guiterman said:
"Especially in our generation is it true that good verse requires
extreme condensation. In most work to-day brevity is desirable. The
epigram beats the epic. If Milton were living to-day he would not write
epics. I don't think it improbable that we have men with Miltonic minds,
and they are not writing epics.
"If a man finds that he cannot express his idea in verse more forcefully
than he can in prose, then he ought to write prose. Very often a writer
is interested in some little incident which he would not be justified in
treating in prose, something too slight to be the theme of a short
story. This is the sort of thing which he should put into verse. There
is Leigh Hunt's _Jennie Kissed Me_, for example. Suppose he had made a
short story of it."
Thinking of this poet's financial success, I asked him just what course
he would advise a young poet to pursue who had no means of livelihood
except writing.
"Well, the worst thing for him to do," said Mr. Guiterman, "would be to
devote all his attention to writing an epic. He'd starve to death.
"I suppose the best thing for him to do would be to write on as many
subjects as possible, including those of intense interest to himself.
What interests him intensely is sure to interest others, and the number
of others whom it interests will depend on how close he is by nature to
the mind of his place and time. He should get some sort of regular work
so that he need not depend at first upon the sale of his writings. This
work need not necessarily be literary in character, although it would be
advisable for him to get employment in a magazine or newspaper office,
so that he may get in touch with the conditions governing the sale of
manuscripts.
"He should write on themes suggested by the day's news. He should write
topical verse; if there is a political campaign on, he should write
verse bearing upon that; if a great catastrophe occurs, he should write
about that, but he must not write on these subjects in a commonplace
manner.
"He should send his verses to the daily papers, for they are the
publications most interested in topical verse. But also he should
attempt to sell his work to the magazines, which pay better prices than
the newspapers. If it is in him to do so, he should write humorous
verse, for there is always a good market for humorous verse that is
worth printing. He should look up the publishers of holiday cards, and
submit to them Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter verses, for which he
would receive, probably, about five dollars apiece. He should write
advertising verses, and he should, perhaps, make an alliance with some
artist with whom he can work, each supplementing the work of the other."
"Mr. Guiterman," I said, "is this the advice that you would give to John
Keats if he were to ask you?"
"Yes, certainly," said Mr. Guiterman. "But you understand that our
hypothetical poet must all the time be doing his own work, writing the
sort of verse which he specially desires to write. If his pot-boiling is
honestly done, it will help him with his other work.
"He must study the needs and limitations of the various publications. He
must recognize the fact that just because he has certain powers it does
not follow that everything he writes will be desired by the editors.
Marked ability and market ability are different propositions.
"If he finds that the magazines are not printing sad sonnets, he must
not write sad sonnets. He must adapt himself to the demands of the day.
"There is high precedent for this course. You asked if I would give
this advice to the young Keats. Why not, when Shakespeare himself
followed the line of action of which I spoke? He began as a lyric poet,
a writer of sonnets. He wrote plays because he saw that the demand was
for plays, and because he wanted to make a living and more than a
living. But because he was Shakespeare his plays are what they are.
"The poet must be influenced by the demand. There is inspiration in the
demand. Besides the material reward, the poet who is influenced by the
demand has the encouraging, inspiring knowledge that he is writing
something that people want to read."
I asked Mr. Guiterman to give me a list of negative commandments for the
guidance of aspiring poets. Here it is:
"Don't think of yourself as a poet, and don't dress the part.
"Don't classify yourself as a member of any special school or group.
"Don't call your quarters a garret or a studio.
"Don't frequent exclusively the company of writers.
"Don't think of any class of work that you feel moved to do as either
beneath you or above you.
"Don't complain of lack of appreciation. (In the long run no really good
published work can escape appreciation.)
"Don't think you are entitled to any special rights, privileges, and
immunities as a literary person, or have any more reason to consider
your possible lack of fame a grievance against the world than has any
shipping-clerk or traveling-salesman.
"Don't speak of poetic license or believe that there is any such thing.
"Don't tolerate in your own work any flaws in rhythm, rhyme, melody, or
grammar.
"Don't use 'e'er' for 'ever,' 'o'er' for 'over,' 'whenas' or 'what time'
for 'when,' or any of the 'poetical' commonplaces of the past.
"Don't say 'did go' for 'went,' even if you need an extra syllable.
"Don't omit articles or prepositions for the sake of the rhythm.
"Don't have your book published at your own expense by any house that
makes a practice of publishing at the author's expense.
"Don't write poems about unborn babies.
"Don't--don't write hymns to the great god Pan. He is dead; let him rest
in peace!
"Don't write what everybody else is writing."
_MAGAZINES CHEAPEN FICTION_