Essays from the Chap-Book: Being a Miscellany of Curious and interesting Tales, Histories, &c; newly composed by Many Celebrated Writers and very delightful to read.Various
History
Essays from the Chap-Book: Being a Miscellany of Curious and interesting Tales, Histories, &c; newly composed by Many Celebrated Writers and very delightful to read.
Various
American essays; Literature, Modern -- History and criticism
We are told that this is not a poetical age, nor ours a poetical
country. No country and no age is poetical. If England is badly off,
I have yet to learn that France or America, Italy or Germany, is in a
more fortunate condition. In one of these countries, in Italy, as in
England, it is true that attention is concentrated on certain young
men of the latest generation. It is in Italy only, I think, that our
youngest poets meet with rivals of their own value. Gabriele d’Annunzio
and Rudyard Kipling are probably the most gifted persons under the age
of thirty now writing verses in any part of the world. The Italians
loudly praise the author of “Elegie Romane,” but if they buy his
volumes to any appreciable extent, I am greatly misinformed. He is what
Carducci and Panzacchi were before him, distinguished and illustrious,
but not successful as the “female fictionist” understands success. No
Italian poet, I think, in this day of the revival of Italian poetry,
makes what could be called an appreciable income by his verse.
It would be indecorous to push the inquiry so far as to speculate how
the increased interest in verse affects the pockets of our own younger
poets. One hopes that they are fed with the flour of returns as well as
with the honey of renown. But one doubts whether their pretty “limited
editions,” their choruses of praise, their various celebrity, are
symptoms of more than a very moderate popularity. They would think it
unkind if one were to say that one wished them no more pudding than
their great forefathers enjoyed. In point of fact, one wishes for every
true artist the maximum of practical appreciation of his art. But if
they break their hearts because they are not Tennyson, they will be
silly fellows. A poet need feel no sense of failure because his books
do not lie on every parlor-table in Brompton, or because no movement
is made towards his being called up into the House of Lords. Success in
poetry has not been, and we may hope that it never will be, a matter in
which income-tax collectors can take an interest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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