CORNELL UNIVERSITY.. LIBRARY GIFT OF F. C. Prescott GOLDWIN SMITH Cornell University Library PN 1042.P92 1922 The poetic mind, 3 1924 014 225 944 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924014225944 THE POETIC MIND THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YOKK ■ BOSTON ■ CHICAGO • DALLAS ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO., Luoted LONDON ■ BOMBAY ■ CALCUTTA UELBODSNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LiD. lOKONTO THE POETIC MIND BY FREDERICK CLARKE PRESCOTT CORNELL UNIVERSITY Nmfark THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1922 All rights resened u. COFISIGBT, 1922, By the MACMELLAN COMPANY Set up and printed. Published Febraary, 1922 Printed in the United States of America In the publication of this work the author has been assisted by the Heckscher Foundation for the Advancement of Research established at Cornell University by August Heckscher. TO THE MEMORY OF J. H. PRESCOTT PREFACE Some of the principles presented in this book are new. This I acknowledge with misgiving, for in a subject as old as poetry, where orthodox views are particularly apt to be sound, novelty is not a recommendation. Fortunately most of the principles are old, and all, I hope, rest on old foundations. Indeed I have tried to return to and develop classical views of poetry which are now somewhat out of vogue. In the main, then, old prin- ciples at most receive new interpretation and relation. A dis- cussion, even of the present length, dealing with many aspects of the large subject of poetry, must be somewhat superficial. It would have been easier and more satisf)dng to completeness to apply the principles herein developed to one or two divisions of the subject. I have thought it better to carry them through several, and apply them to poetry in most of its important aspects, with the prefatory statement, however, that the treat- meiit is introductory and provisional. Each chapter invites correction, and also demands development. Some chapters, I hope, may lead to more thorough and sagacious inquiries. The subject undertaken — the operation of the poet's mind — is fortunately not quite so broad as poetry itself. This limita- tiouj however, is covmterbalanced by its lying halfway between two provinces — ^literature on the one hand and psychology on the other. Evidently its treatment calls for a special psychologi- cal training, to which I cannot pretend, as will no doubt suf- ficiehtly appear. The subject as a whole, so far as I know, has not been attempted by the psychologists; perhaps it is a field in which they wisely fear to tread. In what follows a literary treatment is hazarded, which may in the end, I hope, prove helpful to psychology. Evidently the subject must be ap- proached from both sides. If the student of literature lacks the X PREFACE much needed psychological training, the psychologist on the other hand might lack the wide reading in literature which must supply a large part of the evidence. The best evidence must in the nature of things come from the lives and works of the poets. The poets are in general excellent psychologists, and where the question concerns the working of their own minds they are the best. Psychology must obtain most of its facts ultimately from introspection. If then, instead of mind in general, the poet's mind is to be investigated, the poets are obviously in sole pos- session of the most important data. Fortunately also many of the poets — ^notably, for example, in England Dryden, Words- worth, and Coleridge, and in America Emerson and Poe — have been disposed to introspection and self-analysis; and where they have been so disposed they' have far surpassed ordinary men in subtlety of discrimination and in acuteness and depth of insight. For these reasons — ^because they possess in their own minds the facts to be observed and because they also have quite exceptional powers of observation — the poets must furnish the chief material ia any mvestigation of the subject. If the psychol- ogist may make best final use of this material, it is perhaps the busiaess of the student of literature to collect, classify, and cor- relate it. I have made such constant use of these sources, and have so burdened, if not overburdened, the text with quotations from them, that the book might abnost be regarded as a de- scription of the poetic mind in the language of the poets them- selves. I may say here further that the rigorously scientific method, which would be employed by the psychologist, seems to me inapplicable to the subject of poetry ia its present stage of in- vestigation. Psychology is a science, and even promises, I am told, to become an exact one. But science is not always service- able, and it may be the enemy as well as the friend of progress. Since the time of Bacon we have made tremendous advances; but since that time also we have been inclined to cut ourselves off from other sources of truth in our scientific preoccupation. We neglect the emplo3maent of other nlethods, or we employ PREFACE n them under the frown of science, apologetically and surrepti- tiously, leaving them mainly to the poets, when we ought to proclaim them as often the only methods available for our pur- pose. Some aspects of the large subject of poetry, as for example the mechanism of verse, are relatively simple, and may profit- ably be subjected to scientific analysis. Others, like the pro- phetic character of poetry, are as complex and difficult as any the mind is called upon to consider; indeed though poetry has long been the subject of investigation, it contains many such obscurities and mysteries. If these, which are the very matters calling most loudly for explanation, are approached by a pturely scientific method the result is nil; and if such a method be in- sisted upon — as is too often the case in this age of science — all advance is for the present barred. For approaching these, and in general for proceeding into regions entirely new and unknown — as will, I trust, appear in the following chapters — only an intuitive method is possible. Some d^'yi we may hope, these will be completely rationalized by the psychologist. Mean- while if they are to be treated at all the method must be a com- promise, or considerable relaxation in the direction of intuitive processes; — or, what amounts to the same thing, there must be a large use of the intuitions of the poets. Just now when there is much talk of "scientific research" and "laboratory methods" in hterary study — though there are signs that the fashion is passing — ^it is well to remember the advantage in older and freer methods. It is a great gain — ^I say this seri- ously — ^to be able to form or even state conclusions without proof. If the proofs, which are of only mediate importance, can be dispensed with there is tremendous saving. "The end of understanding," Carlyle was certaioly right in saying, "is not to prove and find reasons, but to know and believe." Proving is the toilsome journey; knowing is the journey's end; and we should be ready enough to shorten the journey. Consider the poet, who instead of plodding, flies; who even has only to think earnestly on his destination in order to arrive — and with the quickness of thought. To change the figure a little, proving is xii PREFACE like the day's labor; knowing is labor's reward at evening; and the two must not be disproportionate. Literary "research" is sometimes a hard task-master, rewarding a long and painful raduction with a pittance of uncertain value — even withholding the pittance and pretending that the labor is its own reward. Think again of the profit of poetry which omits the proofs and crowds the page with valuable conclusions. In literary inves- tigation we can gain much by using some of the conclusions the poets have already provided for us. I have suggested for literary investigation a compromise method. Truths drawn from the poets, though entirely lacking in inductive evidence, may be checked by tests of a strictly scientific kind. If, for example, the statement of a poet on a matter of importance connected with the present subject, though standing unproved, is yet f oimd to agree with the state- ment of another, it is strengthened; if further this agreement is found among many poets, of different ages and coimtries, the consensus is an argument of the strongest kind — stronger indeed than any single inductive proof. Right conclusions also show an agreement of another kind; they have a way of agreeing with each other, of fitting into and explaining each other, and of readily forming part of a larger structure. The test of them is whether they will "work," and this test is also entirely sci- entific. Finally, wrong conclusions are sterile, right ones pro- ductive; the former die when the book containing them is closed; the latter ar^ alive and remain so, and soon gather to themselves other opinions. A little time appUes the test, and however it may be in the practical sciences, in the investigation of poetry there is no hurry. One writing on the present subject, then, need not be too much afraid of promoting error. Indeed I am convinced that proving and testing the material available in the dicta of the poets on the subject of poetry is the least difficult and most dispensable part of the work. When we consider these dicta we do not question their value or their truth. When we find Shakespeare sa5dng that the poet is of imagination all compact, or Shelley sa3dng that the poet is at PREFACE xiii once legislator and prophet, we take for granted — ^rather we feel — that these expressions are valuable and true. The task is usually not to verify them, but to understand them and to bring them into proper relation to other thought. Taken in- dependently these statements of the poets about poetry throw a fitful hght on the subject, — sometimes the only light we have. If they could be taken together, many of them, from many ages and coimtries; if they could be systematized and correlated so that one nught confirm, interpret, and illimiine another, a theory of the greatest value would result. Some day a synthesis of this kind may be accomplished. I speak here, however, of the collection and correlation of such materials only to iudicate a method — a very valuable one as I beheve, — ^which I have tried to keep before me in what follows. This book has grown out of brief articles which I contributed to the Journal of Abnormal Psychology in 1912, and which were reprinted by Mr. Richard G. Badger in Poetry and Dreams, 1912. I have to thank Mr. Badger for his courtesy in consenting to the use from this earlier work of some paragraphs and parts of paragraphs, the most important of which, in chapters II, XIV, and XV, are indicated in the notes. I am much indebted to my brother, Mr. C. F. Prescott, and to my friends Professor J. E. Creighton and Professor William Strunk, Jr., for criticism of my manuscript; to Professor Strunk I am especially grateful for his kindly appreciation and encouragement. F. C. Prescott. Ithaca, New York February 15, 1920. CONTENTS CHAPTER I ^ Introduction „.„_ PAGE The Processes involved in Poetic Creation not understood — Con- sequent Vagueness of Poetic Criticism — ^The Purpose of the Present Book — Only Inspired Poetry requires explanation — This, however, often appears in Prose — ^The term Poetry taken broadly — ^Poets as Dreamers i CHAPTER n EXAMPLES OF VISION I. Example of Poetic Vision — Of Day Dream — Of Mystical Vision — ^Poe's Psychal Fancies — ^Dreams — Conditions of Visionary Thought; Normal and Abnormal — Other similar forms of Vision help to explain the Poet's — II. Poetry and Dreams related — ^This Relation important to Poetic TTieory — ^III. Typical Poetic Visionaries: Bunyan, Lamb, Shelley, George Sand, Stevenson 12 CHAPTER in ^ TWO MODES OF THOUGHT I. The Distinction of Hobpes; recognized by Recent Psycholo- gists — Associative and Voluntary Thought — Characteristics of these — ^The Poetip^ Thought mainly Associative — Con- sequently Involjmfary and Efifortless— Transitory — ^11. Imaginative and Concrete — ^With difficulty Expressed in Words — ^Par^cidarly by Modem Language — Carried on when the Senses are in Abeyance — ^This Thought older, and therefore Primary 36 xvi CONTENTS CHAPTER IV THE IMAGINATION IN CHILDHOOD — THE PRIMITIVE IMAGINATION PAGE I. The Child's Thought Associative and Imaginative— Naturally Figurative— The Child originates Story and Play— A Typical Myth of Childhood— Such Myths the germs of Poetry and Science — ^In the Individual Development Imaginative gives way to Rational Thought; Poetry to Prose— The Poet, how- ever, still sees with the Eyes of Childhood — ^11. The Child- hood of the Race — Primitive Thought Imaginative — ^Hence the Oldest Poetry Best — ^Poetical and Explicative M)rths — Primitive Language also Imaginative — ^The Myths are Dreams and Poetry — ^The Poet's Mind, though highly de- veloped, works in a Primitive Way — ^The Primary Thought still Best — ^The Explication and Rationalization of Myths ... 54 CHAPTER V THE SUBJECTS OF POETRY I. Visionary Thought due to a Mental Insufficiency — ^Two Fac- tors: Mind and Subject — Subjects too difficult for the Rea- son excite the Imagination — ^The Known-Unknown — ^Poetic Subjects always in the Penumbra — ^11. Awe precedent to Imaginative Thought — ^This Thought discovers Beauty — Which when Rationalized is recognized as Truth — ^The Re- lation of Poetry to Science — To Criticism 72 CHAPTER VI ^ THE UNCONSCIOUS MIND IN POETRY I. The Poetic Thought partly Unconscious — ^The Unconscious recognized in Psychology and Literature — ^The Intellect shallow; the Unconscious the Deeper Mind — ^The Uncon- scious Mind more Diffuse; its Contents more Extensive and Varied — ^Poetry Utilizes Unconscious Material — ^The Uncon- scious Mind has valueless as well as Valuable Contents — Superior, however, to the Conscious Mind— Hence Poetry is Superior to Prose — ^11. Elements from the Unconscious CONTENTS xvii PAGE in Poetry, though yet Unexplained, not Inexplicable— True Poetry inevitably Natural and Original— Inspiration Mo- mentary, but preceded by Incubation and Preparation — Mental and Physiological Creation analogous — ^Invocation a SoUcitation of the Unconscious Mind — Relation of the Con- scious and Unconscious to the Two Modes of Thought 86 It CHAPTER VII "^\^ THE UNIVERSALITY OF POETRY The Imaginative Thought tends to Universality — First be- cause it is Freed in Time and Space — ^In Vision Time and Space Modified; even Dispensed with — Poetry partakes of this Freedom — ^11. Secondly because it is Unpractical and Disinterested — It draws on a, Larger and less Individual Fund — ^Poetry shares this Advantage — ^The Deeper Thought produdi^ Ppetry Racial as weEwis Individual — ^The Uncon- scious runs^jpto the General Mind — ^Thus the Poet's Inspira- tion comi^' nom Without io6 Jf^- CHAPTER VIII "^ THJE -DESIRES AND EMOTIONS IN POETRY I. Dream Vision affcffds Imaginary Satisfaction to the Desires — The Wish Theory of Dreams; supported by Literature — — Poetry aSorcS similar Imaginary Satisfaction — The Desires the Motive Force — Objections Considered — II. The Poetic Creation — Analogy to Phsrsiological Creation; to Divine Creation — HI. The Desires arouse Emotions — Emo- tions essential to Poetry-i-Immediately felt or Recollected in Tranquillity — Of Various Kinds in other respects — A Vital and Determining Element 122 CHAPTER DC THE IMAGINATION: INTERNAL AND EXTERNAL ELEMENTS I. The Imagination the Eye of the Mind — ^Indispensable to Poetry — Spurious Substitutes — ^Fancy and Imagination xviii CONTENTS PAGE Synonymous— The Distinction of Wordsworth unfortu- nate; Reasons — ^The Imagination in Volimtary and Associ- ative Thought — ^Its Presentations Auditory as well as Vis- ual— II. Reproductive and Productive — ^Two Elements: the Objective Experience and the Modifying Mind— Words- worth's Ennobling Interchange — ^The Imagination proceeds from a Reaction of the Mind upon Nature i39 CHAPTER X THE imagination: recent and early sources I. Images and Feelings drawn from Recent or Older Sources — Recent Material if IndifiEerent Unimportant — ^It Emotional- ized probably not immediately Utilizable — ^11. Hence more Settled Experience the Important Source — Examples from the Prdude — ^Feeling comes in Bid of Feeling — ^III. Older Images and Feelings recalled by Association — By an Asso- ciative Chain in which Links are Forgotten (Uncon- scious) — ^Hence Objects become Inexplicably Poetical — For the Poet all Objects Poetically Colored — ^ITie Imaginative Operation too Complex for Analysis — ^It results in an Or- ganic Unity; essentially a New Creation — ^Examples from Dreams and Poetry , 154 CHAPTER XI y/ THE imagination: condensation and displacement I. Application of the Freudian Theory of Dreams to Poetry- Condensation in Dreams — ^In Poetry — ^Poetic Brevity and Suggestiveness — ^The Theory of Wit — ^Word-Play — Mani- fold Meanings — ^Latent and Unconscious Meanings — H. Displacement in Dreams — ^In Poetry; Examples 169 CHAPTER XII v* the formation op imaginary characters I. To be True and Original Characters must be Imaginatively Conceived — II. Characters are Imaginative Fusions — With CONTENTS xix PAGE Elements from External Experience and from the Mind — One Character bearing the Writer's Ego — ^UI. Autogenous Char- acters — ^Formed by Objectification from the Mind — Splitting in Dreams, Myths, etc.; in Literature — IV. Modified by Characteristics from External Sources — ^Pathological Cases — Characters of Poe and Byron — A Genealogy of Characters V. Characters mainly from External Sources — ^Heroines — From Actual Persons; Historical Characters — Folk Char- acters — Settings in Fiction — ^The Origins of Fiction and Drama in the Mind 187 CHAPTER Xin SYMBOLS AND riGXnLES Thought a Recognition of Relations — ^Association by Con- tiguity and Resemblance — ^Poetic Thought merely Associa- tive — ^The Intuitive Perception of Hidden Likenesses— A Subtle Chain of Countless Rings— U. Resultant Symbolism- Relation of Symbols to Language— Figures— The Imagination does not Compare but Fuses two Images — ^Metaphor more Poetical than Simile — Personification — Synecdoche — ^Fusion of Three or more Images; resulting in highly Poetical Ex- pression — ^III. The Form of Poetry an Instance and Sym- bol of Similitude in Dissimilitude 215 CHAPTER XIV THE IMPULSE AND THE CONTROL Inspiration and Art — ^The Desires Denied by Physical Ob- stacles and by the Demands of Society— The Poetic Art due to the Latter — Poetry resultant from the Conflict be- tween Individual Inspiration and External Authority— The Impulse and the Control— The Latter, causing Repression, requires a Veiled Expression — ^Rhythm and Metre — Poetry effects Revelation with Conceahnent— II. Even the Vision Controlled — Secondary Desires demand Veiling or Con- cealment — ^Primary and Secondary desires may become Un- conscious—The Conceahnent then Greatest— Formula for the XX CONTENTS PAGE Operation— Parallel in Pathological Fancies— In Dreams- Displacement — Secondary Elaboration — ^III. Classicism and ^ Romanticism 234 CHAPTER XV ^ THE POETIC MADNESS AND CATHARSIS I. Difficulties in the Terms— The Poetic Madness in Literature —The Lunatic, the Lover, and the Poet— The Desires when Denied cause Emotional Disturbance — ^This in high degree the Poetic Madness — ^The Lover's Madness analogous to the Poet's— A Mad Shakespeare — ^11. Dreams Relieve Emo- tional Disturbance — ^Poetry Kkewise affords Relief — ^By Se- curing Expression — ^By providing a Fictional Gratification — This ReUef extends to the Reader — ^The Catharsis in Hysteria — ^In Poetry — In Aristotle's Definition of Tragedy 260 CHAPTER XVI THE USES OF POETRY I. The Prevention of Madness a Subordinate Use — Summary of Preceding Chapters — ^11. Dreams and Poetry univer- sally believed Prophetic — ^Explanation in the Wider View of the Unconscious Mind — A More Fundamental Explana- tion — Dreams and Visions the Shadows of All that Man Becomes — The Poet, The Prophet, and the Priest are One — III. The Analogy between Poetry and Play — Three Theo- ries of Play; Applied to Poetry — ^The Poet furnishes the Pattern for Action — ^The best Teacher — ^IV. The Dreamer, the Philosopher, and the Man of Action — ^The Dreamer sees the Land his People are to Occupy — ^Reasons for the Depre- ciation of Poetry — ^The Universal Hiunan Soul Dreaming on Things to Come 278 Index or Authors 299 Index or Subjects 303 THE POETIC MIND THE POETIC MIND CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION THE working of the poet's mind, though the subject of curious interest from the time of Plato to the present, is not yet understood. The body of poetic criticism, valuable as it is, contains no discussion of the poet's imaginative creation which does not leave the reader balked and disappointed at the crucial points. The poet himself cannot explain his special faculty, as he can his ordinary mental processes; toward his own production, indeed, he is strangely impersonal as if it were hardly his own. His attitude is that of Voltaire, who, on seeing one of his tragedies performed, exclaimed: "Was it really I who wrote that? " He feels, like Milton, that inspiration comes from without: a "celestial patroness" comes "unimplored," And dictates to him slumbering, or inspires Easy his unpremeditated verse. Why should the poet's mind thus hesitate to acknowledge its own faculty? There is something similarly inexplicable in the action of poetry upon the reader's mind. Lovers of poetry, the most devoted and reverent on the one hand, the most expert ' and critical on the other, find a mystery in its effect. A poem, they may say, has charm, but the word itself suggests magic; and this test, though as good as any, can be applied only by the feelings, never by the reason; and it cannot be rationally explained. Poetry indeed, as Shelley believed, "acts in a divine and unapprehended manner, beyond and above consciousness." 2 THE POETIC MIND It would be helpful to the critic, though doubtless not to the poet himself, if we could at all understand this poetic production, and find out in what this poetic charm consists. To the ancients, as to SheUey, poetry was divine and the poetical creation a miracle of grace. The poet, like the prophet and the dreamer, was inspired, — that is, raised above his normal power by the breath or spirit of the God — of Apollo or the muse. A poetic exercise was a religious exercise also, and the poet began it by invoking the muse — quite sincerely, as the modem reUgious service begins with prayer. Later this invocation be- came a form, and when brought into modem times, an empty form — often the object of satire and parody. "Hail, Muse, et cetera" — ^Byron begins a canto of Don Juan. Phrases based upon the primitive conception are common in modem poetry; the poet is "transported," "possessed," "filled with fury, rapt, inspired"; but such expressions are either mere classical orna- ment and "poetic diction," or after losing all metaphorical significance are adopted as a critical terminology vaguely de- scriptive of the creative process. Christian poets have given the conception new life by invoking Urania or the "heavenly muse" or the "holy ghost"; even such invocation, however, is as a rule, merely "poetical," not truly religious. Here as else- where in his poetry, Wordsworth replaced form by sincerity and tmth: Descend, prophetic spirit! that inspir'st The human soul of universal earth. Dreaming on things to come; and dost possess A metropolitan temple in the hearts Of mighty poets; upon me bestow A gift of genmne insight.* Here poetical invocation again becomes true prayer. Words- worth showed his elevation by feeling and once more recognizing the close relation between poetry and religion. In this other poets like Shelley and Emerson agree with him. They make Uttle attempt, however, to explain rationally the nature of in- > " The Recluse." INTRODUCTION 3 spiration; their conception shows no advance in this respect, and is still essentially that of the Greeks. For the sake of clearness this matter may be restated some- what differently. The Greek poet produced, by processes of which he was largely imconscious, poetry which was felt to con- tain beauty and truth of the highest value. This production was clearly beyond anything of which his ordinary mind was capable. As elsewhere in his mythology, a power, hidden yet beneficent, within himself, he made objective, personified, and called the God or the muse. In the same way the modem poet, Words- worth, finds himself gifted with a faculty higher and more creative than that of his conscious mind. He dares not attribute it to himself. By a myth-making, or as we now must call it, a poetic exercise of his mind, he conceives of it as proceeding from a prophetic spirit, having the gift of genuine insight, whom he doubtless identifies with the divinity of his modem reHgion. His conception is that of the Greek, except that it is elevated and refined by all the intervening growth of poetic and reUgious thought. To the modem rationalist Apollo is a "myth," — a myth, however, which may embody truth. The idea of Wordsworth likewise embodies truth, but is to be accepted and understood only poetically. The philologist or psychologist regards this conception of divinity as merely a poetic figure, by which a genuine but deeply hidden faculty of the human mind is by this mind itself projected and personified through the imagination. He does not believe in Apollo, but he is ready to believe there is tmth in the Apollo myth. His problem is to rationalize and ex- press in prose the theory poetically shadowed forth in this idea of divinity. Modem poets like the three just mentioned — ^Wordsworth, Shelley, and Emerson — ^have done much to illuminate the work- ing of the poet's mind. Critics of less insight are apt to deal with phrases rather than with thoughts. They speak of inspiration without f eeUng the vital significance of the primitive term on the one hand, and without giving it definite modem denotation on 4 THE POETIC MIND the other. They speak of poetry as a heavenly gift, meaning only that poetry is at once beautiful and inexplicable. They call Shakespeare divine, because they know nothing of his life but wish to give his poetry the highest commendation. They talk of the poetic madness without believing in it. They explain poetry as the product of imagination — "the power so-caUed," as Wordsworth says, " through sad incompetence of human speech" — ^when the imagination calls as loudly for explanation as poetry itself. They refer to artistic creation, without being able to tell what or how the poet creates. Poetic criticism tends to become a repetition of vague or empty phrases. Some readers may even feel that the matters covered by these phrases must remain mysteries. Obscurity in the subject begets superstition and leads to supine reverence and wonder. We should indeed worship our great poets, as the men of old did their bards and prophets; not abjectly, however, as savages do their medicine men, but rather with intelligent veneration. As a sub- ject of the highest importance poetry should be studied most carefully; little by little we shall learn about it; we shall never fully imderstand it. Poets like Wordsworth who have esteemed it most highly have understood it most profoundly. Reverent readers may therefore be reassured, for inquiry will at best only push the mystery a Uttle further off, analysis will only turn a simple mystery into a complex one, — and no explanation of poetry will explain it away. The modem student of poetry is not so much frightened by mystery in the subject as deterred by its extent and difficulty— of which no one can be more conscious than I. No treatment of poetry can be adequate; no theory complete. No explanation even of a particular point can furnish a key to all the difficulties immediately involved. At most some aspects of the whole sub- ject may be clarified and rationalized. With this understood — and any attempt at full treatment disclaimed — ^I may state the purpose of the present book. I wish to attempt some further explanation of poetic vision, of the poetic imagination and poetic creation, of the poetic madness, and of the prophetic nature and INTRODUCTION 5 function of poetry, I intend, however, not so much to present any novel theories of my own on these subjects, as to bring to- gether and systematize views which have long been held in re- gard to poetry, — ^which have been expressed, often figiuratively and obscurely, by the poets themselves, in various ages and in many books, — ^which, therefore, have remained scattered and, to have their full value, must be brought together from a wide reading of hterature, — ^which must be interpreted and corre- lated, often indeed translated from the language of poetry to that of prose. In proceeding thus I shall have often to quote at length from these sources; and I beg the reader not merely to pardon the constant quotation, but to attend particularly to the quotations as the best possible evidence and as more authorita- tive and usually more important than the text. The subject of poetry is of course very large and complex, and calls first for analysis and limitation. I shall not undertake any general definition; poetry has so many aspects that a definition for one purpose is useless, even illogical for another. In what follows I wish merely to indicate limitations, not at all dogmatic, which may be helpful for the ensuing discussion. The word "poetical" is appUed, quite properly, to objects in nature, as we call a landscape or a face "poetical;" and to prod- ucts of the other arts, as we may call a painting "poetry." In both cases the analogy is veracious; we may view a natural scene imaginatively or creatively, and the painter's imaginative faculty is akin to, or identical with, the poet's. In what follows, however, if only for the simplification of the subject matter, we shall deal mainly with the poetry of words. It is helpful to dis- tinguish the poetic inspiration, an operation proceeding within the poet's mind, from the poetic product, the expressed poem, whidi may be heard or read. It is the former which presents most difficulties: when we understand the inspiration we shall probably understand the poem. Further the inspiration may correspond to only a part, greater or smaller, of the poem. The latter if of any length usually contains both uninspired and inspired portions — ^parts which are written consciously and 6 THE POETIC MIND deliberately, by artistry, and parts which are the record of true vision and are produced more prof oundly— as we say by genius. "A poem of any length," Coleridge says, "neither can be, nor ought to be all poetry." Even the inspired poet is not always inspired, but often only copjdng the forms of inspiration. Many passages called poetry are only verse connecting the inspired portions. Further, as everyone knows, many whole poems, so- called, are not poetry at all, but only wit, satire, philosophy, or pale narrative in verse. These— the " Epistle to Arbuthnot" or the " Vanity of Hvunan Wishes " — ^may be admirable productions by no means to be excluded from the anthology, and perhaps in- volving, so to speak by absorption, the difficulties of the higher poetry; but the mystery is not here. There certainly is a higher poetry. In some poems, at any rate in such parts as are vital and characteristic, we feel at once, instinctively or through a strange response of the feeling, that we are in the presence of this higher production; we share with the poet in his vision. This, which we sometimes call "pure poetry," I believe to be the product of a mental operation quite different from that which produces mere verse or ordinary prose. And the difference between these two operations of the mind, which we might call the prose operation and the poetic operation, is the main subject for dis- cussion in the following chapters. This distinction between inspired and umnspired verse has nothing to do with subjects or kinds. A l3n:ic or an epic may be- long to either class. It has little to do with length. A short poem is more apt to be pure poetry than a long one, and this perhaps led Poe to consider a long poem a "contradiction in terms." A long poem is more apt to have intercalations of mere verse. But a very long poem may unquestionably in its concep- tion be the unified product of one effort of the genuine poetic imagination; "Milton," as Shelley says, "conceived \h.t Paradise Lost as a whole before he executed it in portions." ^ Further this distinction — of inspired and uninspired — ^is not final as to the ' Defense of Poetry, ed. Cook, p. 39. INTRODUCTION 7 n, permanent value of the product. In general the inspired poem will be superior, but the "Vanity of Human Wishes" may be of much greater value than the product of some minor poet's vision. Aristotle beheved poetry to be "a thing inspired." In the Poetics, however, he says it "implies either a strain of madness or a happy gift of nature." ^ That is, he divides poetry into two classes, the «Ko-TaTt/cot and the eJTrXoo-Toi — the ecstatic and euplastic— on which John Keble bases an instructive distinc- tion between poets of primary and poets of secondary inspira- tion. The poet must be either a true ecstatic, or he must be capable by a flexible assumption through conscious art, of writ- ing as if he were inspired. Shelley was a poet of primary inspira- tion. Dryden, on the other hand, "had in perfection the iv