Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe, page 231
Much, however, remained to be done; and here it may be right to inquire — “What should be the aim of every compilation of the character now discussed?” The object, in general terms, may be stated, as the conveying, within moderate compass, a distinct view of our poetry and of our poets. This, in fact, is the demand of the public. A book is required, which shall not so much be the reflection of the compiler’s peculiar views and opinions upon poetry in the abstract, as of the popular judgment upon such poetical works as have come immediately within its observation. It is not the author’s business to insist upon his own theory, and, in its support, to rake up from the by-ways of the country the “inglorious Miltons” who may, possibly, there abound; neither, because ill according with this theory, is it his duty to dethrone and reject those who have long maintained supremacy in the estimation of the people. In this view, it will be seen that regard must be paid to the mere quantity of a writer’s effusions. He who has published much, is not to be omitted because, in the opinion of the compiler, he has written nothing fit for publication. On the other hand, he who has extemporized a single song, which has met the eye of no one but our bibliographer, is not to be set forth among the poetical magnates, even although the one song itself be esteemed equal to the very best of Bérangér.
Of the two classes of sins — the negative and the positive — those of omission and those of commission — obvious ones of the former class are, beyond doubt, the more unpardonable. It is better to introduce half a dozen “great unknowns,” than to give the “cut direct” to a single individual who has been fairly acknowledged as known. The public, in short, seem to demand such a compendium of our poetical literature as shall embrace specimens from those works alone, of our recognised poets, which, either through accident, or by dint of merit, have been most particularly the subjects of public discussion. We wish this, that we may be put in condition to decide for ourselves upon the justice or injustice of the reputation attained. In critical opinion much diversity exists; and, although there is one true and tenable critical opinion, there are still a thousand, upon all topics, which, being only the shadows, have all the outlines, and assume all the movements, of the substance of truth. Thus any critic who should exclude from the compendium all which tallied not with his individual ideas of the Muse, would be found to exclude nine hundred and ninety-nine thousandths of that which the public at large, embracing all varieties of opinion, has been accustomed to acknowledge as poesy.
These remarks apply only to the admission or rejection of poetical specimens. The public being put fairly in possession of the matter debated, with the provisions above mentioned, the analysis of individual claims, so far as the specimens extend, is not only not unbecoming in the compiler, but a thing to be expected and desired. To this department of his work he should bring analytical ability; a distinct impression of the nature, the principles, and the aims of poetry; a thorough contempt for all prejudice at war with principle; a poetic sense of the poetic; sagacity in the detection, and audacity in the exposure of demerit; in a word talent and faith; the lofty honor which places mere courtesy beneath its feet; the boldness to praise an enemy, and the more unusual courage to damn a friend.
It is, in fact, by the criticism of the work, that the public voice will, in the end, decide upon its merits. In proportion to the ability or incapacity here displayed, will it, sooner or later, be approved or condemned. Nevertheless, the mere compilation is a point, perhaps, of greater importance. With the meagre published aids existing previously to Mr. Griswold’s book, the labor of such an undertaking must have been great; and not less great the industry and general information in respect to our literary affairs, which have enabled him so successfully to prosecute it.
The work before us is indeed so vast an improvement upon those of a similar character which have preceded it, that we do its author some wrong in classing all together. Having explained, somewhat minutely, our views of the proper mode of compilation, and of the general aims of the species of book in question, it but remains to say that these views have been very nearly fulfilled in the “Poets and Poetry of America,” while altogether unsatisfied by the earlier publications.
The volume opens with a preface, which, with some little supererogation, is addressed “To the Reader;” inducing very naturally the query, whether the whole book is not addressed to the same individual. In this preface, which is remarkably well written and strictly to the purpose, the author thus evinces a just comprehension of the nature and objects of true poesy:
He who looks on Lake George, or sees the sun rise on Mackinaw, or listens to the grand music of a storm, is divested, certainly, for a time, of a portion of the alloy of his nature. The elements of power in all sublime sights and heavenly harmonies, should live in the poet’s song, to which they can be transferred only by him who possesses the creative faculty. The sense of beauty, next to the miraculous divine suasion, is the means through which the human character is purified and elevated. The creation of beauty, the manifestation of the real by the ideal, “in words that more in metrical array,”is poetry.
The italics are our own; and we quote the passage because it embodies the sole true definition of what has been a thousand times erroneously defined.
The earliest specimens of poetry presented in the body of the work, are from the writings of Philip Freneau, “one of those worthies who, both with lyre and sword, aided in the achievement of our independence.” But, in a volume professing to treat, generally, of the “Poets and Poetry of America,” some mention of those who versified before Freneau, would of course, be considered desirable. Mr. Griswold has included, therefore, most of our earlier votaries of the Muse, with many specimens of their powers, in an exceedingly valuable “Historical Introduction;” his design being to exhibit as well “the progress as the condition of poetry in the United States.”
The basis of the compilation is formed of short biographical and critical notices, with selections from the works of, in all, eighty-seven authors, chronologically arranged. In an appendix at the end of the volume, are included specimens from the works of sixty, whose compositions have either been too few, or in the editor’s opinion too mediocres, to entitle them to more particular notice. To each of these specimens are appended foot notes, conveying a brief biographical summary, without anything of critical disquisition.
Of the general plan and execution of the work we have already expressed the fullest approbation. We know no one in America who could, or who would, have performed the task here undertaken, at once so well in accordance with the judgment of the critical, and so much to the satisfaction of the public. The labors, the embarrassments, the great difficulties of the achievement are not easily estimated by those before the scenes.
In saying that, individually, he disagrees with many of the opinions expressed by Mr. Griswold, is merely suggesting what, in itself, would have been obvious without the suggestion. It rarely happens that any two persons thoroughly agree upon any one point. It would be mere madness to imagine that any two could coincide in every point of a case where exists a multiplicity of opinions upon a multiplicity of points. There is no one who, reading the volume before us, will not in a thousand instances, be tempted to throw it aside, because its prejudices and partialities are, in a thousand instances, altogether at war with his own. But when so tempted, he should bear in mind, that had the work been that of Aristarchus himself, the discrepancies of opinion would still have startled him and vexed him as now.
We disagree then, with Mr. Griswold in many of his critical estimates; although in general, we are proud to find his decisions our own. He has omitted from the body of his book, some one or two whom we should have been tempted to introduce. On the other hand, he has scarcely made us amends by introducing some one or two dozen whom we should have treated with contempt. We might complain too of a prepossession, evidently unperceived by himself, for the writers of New England. We might hint also, that in two or three cases, he has rendered himself liable to the charge of personal partiality; it is often so very difficult a thing to keep separate in the mind’s eye, our conceptions of the poetry of a friend, from our impressions of his good fellowship and our recollections of the flavor of his wine.
But having said thus much in the way of fault-finding, we have said all. The book should be regarded as the most important addition which our literature has for many years received. It fills a void which should have been long ago supplied. It is written with judgment, with dignity and candor. Steering with a dexterity not to be sufficiently admired, between the Scylla of Prejudice on the one hand, and the Charybdis of Conscience on the other, Mr. Griswold in the “Poets and Poetry of America,” has entitled himself to the thanks of his countrymen, while showing himself a man of taste, talent, and tact.
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THE FEMALE POETS OF AMERICA is a large volume, to match “The Poets and Poetry of America,” “The Prose Authors of America,” and “The Poets and Poetry of England,” — all of which have been eminently and justly successful. These works have indisputable claims upon public attention as critical summaries, at least, of literary merit and demerit. Their great and most obvious value, as affording data or material for criticism — as mere collections of the best specimens in each department and as records of fact, in relation not more to books than to their authors — has in some measure overshadowed the more important merit of the series: for these works have often, and in fact very generally, the positive merits of discriminative criticism, and of honesty — always the more negative merit of strong common-sense. The best of the series is, beyond all question, “The Prose Authors of America.” This is a book of which any critic in the country might well have been proud, without reference to the mere industry and research manifested in its compilation. These are truly remarkable; but the vigor of comment and force of style are not less so; while more independence and self-reliance are manifested than in any other of the series. There is not a weak paper in the book; and some of the articles are able in all respects. The truth is that Mr. Griswold’s intellect is more at home in Prose than Poetry. He is a better judge of fact than of fancy, not that he has not shown himself quite competent to the task undertaken in “The Poets and Poetry of America,” or of England, or in the work now especially before us. In this latter, he has done no less credit to himself than to the numerous lady-poets whom he discusses — and many of whom he now first introduces to the public. We are glad, for Mr. Griswold’s sake, as well as for the interests of our literature generally, to perceive that he has been at the pains of doing what Northern critics seem to be at great pains never to do — that is to say, he has been at the trouble of doing justice, in great measure, to several poetesses who have not had the good fortune to be born in the North. The notices of the Misses Carey, of the Misses Fuller, of the sisters Mrs. Warfield and Mrs. Lee, of Mrs. Nichols, of Miss Welby, and of Miss Susan Archer Talley, reflect credit upon Mr. Griswold, and show him to be a man not more of taste than — shall we say it? — of courage. Let our readers be assured that, (as matters are managed among the four or five different cliques who control our whole literature in controlling the larger portion of our critical journals,) it requires no small amount of courage, in an author whose subsistence lies in his pen, to hint, even, that anything good, in a literary way, can, by any possibility, exist out of the limits of a certain narrow territory. We repeat that Mr. Griswold deserves our thanks, under such circumstances, for the cordiality with which he has recognised the poetical claims of the ladies mentioned above. He has not, however, done one or two of them that full justice which, ere long, the public will take upon itself the task of rendering them. We allude especially to the case of Miss Talley. Mr. Griswold praises her highly; and we would admit that it would be expecting of him too much, just at present, to hope for his avowing, of Miss Talley, what we think of her, and what one of our best known critics has distinctly avowed — that she ranks already with the best of American poetesses, and in time will surpass them all — that her demerits are those of inexperience and excessive sensibility, (betraying her, unconsciously, into imitation,) while her merits are those of unmistakeable genius. We are proud to be able to say, moreover, in respect to another of the ladies referred to above, that one of her poems is decidedly the noblest poem in the collection — although the most distinguished poetesses in the land have here included their most praiseworthy compositions. Our allusion is to Miss Alice Carey’s “Pictures of Memory.” Let our readers see it and judge for themselves. We speak deliberately: — in all the higher elements of poetry — in true imagination — in the power of exciting the only real poetical effect — elevation of the soul, in contradistinction from mere excitement of the intellect or heart — the poem in question is the noblest in the book.
“The Female Poets of America” includes ninety-five names — commencing with Ann Bradstreet, the contemporary of the once world-renowned Du Bartas — him of the “nonsense-verses” — the poet who was in the habit of styling the sun the “Grand Duke of Candles” — and ending with “Helen Irving” — a nom de plume of Miss Anna H. Phillips. Mr. Griswold gives most space to Mrs. Maria Brooks, (Maria del Occidente, ) not, we hope and believe, merely because Southey has happened to commend her. The claims of this lady we have not yet examined so thoroughly as we could wish, and we will speak more fully of her hereafter, perhaps. In point of actual merit — that is to say of actual accomplishment, without reference to mere indications of the ability to accomplish — we would rank the first dozen or so in this order — (leaving out Mrs. Brooks for the present.) Mrs. Osgood — very decidedly first — then Mrs. Welby, Miss Carey, (or the Misses Carey,) Miss Talley, Mrs. Whitman, Miss Lynch, Miss Frances Fuller, Miss Lucy Hooper, Mrs. Oakes Smith, Mrs. Ellet, Mrs. Hewitt, Miss Clarke, Mrs. Lewis, Mrs. Nichols, Mrs. Warfield, (with her sister, Mrs. Lee,) Mrs. Eames, and Mrs. Sigourney. If Miss Lynch had as much imagination as energy of expression and artistic power, we would place her next to Mrs. Osgood. The next skilful merely, of those just mentioned, are Mrs. Osgood, Miss Lynch and Mrs. Sigourney. The most imaginative are Miss Carey, Mrs. Osgood, Miss Talley, and Miss Fuller. The most accomplished are Mrs. Ellet, Mrs. Eames, Mrs. Lewis, Mrs. Whitman, and Mrs. Oakes Smith. The most popular are Mrs. Osgood, Mrs. Oakes Smith, and Miss Hooper.
MR. LONGFELLOW AND OTHER PLAGIARISTS.
A DISCUSSION WITH “OUTIS.”
FOR the “Evening Mirror” of January 14, (1846), before my editorial connexion with the “Broadway Journal,” I furnished a brief criticism on Professor Longfellow’s “Waif.” In the course of my observations, I collated a poem called “The Death-Bed,” and written by Hood, with one by Mr. Aldrich, entitled “A Death-Bed.” The criticism, ended thus:
We conclude our notes on the “Waif,” with the observation that, although full of beauties, it is infected with a moral taint — or is this a mere freak of our own fancy? We shall be pleased if it be so; — but there does appear, in this little volume, a very careful avoidance of all American poets who may be supposed especially to interfere with the claims of Mr. Longfellow. These men Mr. Longfellow can continuously imitate (is that the word?) and yet never even incidentally commend.
Much discussion ensued. A friend of Mr. Longfellow’s penned a defence, which had at least the merit of being thoroughly impartial; for it defended Mr. L., not only from the one-tenth of very moderate disapproval in which I had indulged, but from the nine-tenths of my enthusiastic admiration into the bargain. The fact is, if I was not convinced that in ninety-nine hundredths of all that I had written about Mr. Longfellow I was decidedly in the wrong, at least it was no fault of Mr. Longfellow’s very luminous friend. This well-intended defence was published in the “Mirror,” with a few words of preface by Mr. Willis, and of postscript by myself. Still dissatisfied, Mr. L., through a second friend, addressed to Mr. Willis an expostulatory letter, of which the “Mirror” printed only the following portion:
It has been asked, perhaps, why Lowell was neglected in this collection? Might it not as well be asked why Bryant, Dana and Halleck were neglected? The answer is obvious to any one who candidly considers the character of the collection. It professed to be, according to the Poem, from the humbler poets; and it was intended to embrace pieces that were anonymous, or which were easily accessible to the general reader — the waifs and estrays of literature. To put anything of Lowell’s, for example, into a collection of waifs would be a particular liberty with pieces which are all collected and christened.
