Keats, John, 1795-1821; Poets, English -- 19th century -- Biography
The manner in which Keats set about relating the Greek story, as he had
thus conceived it, was as far from being a Greek or 'classical' manner as
possible. He indeed resembles the Greeks, as we have seen, in his vivid
sense of the joyous and multitudinous life of nature: and he loved to
follow them in dreaming of the powers of nature as embodied in concrete
shapes of supernatural human activity and grace. Moreover, his intuitions
for every kind of beauty being admirably swift and true, when he sought to
conjure up visions of the classic past, or images from classic fable, he
was able to do so often magically well. To this extent Keats may justly be
called, as he has been so often called, a Greek, but no farther. The
rooted artistic instincts of that race, the instincts which taught them in
all the arts alike, during the years when their genius was most itself, to
select and simplify, rejecting all beauties but the vital and essential,
and paring away their material to the quick that the main masses might
stand out unconfused, in just proportions and with outlines rigorously
clear--these instincts had neither been implanted in Keats by nature, nor
brought home to him by precept and example. Alike by his aims and his
gifts, he was in his workmanship essentially 'romantic,' Gothic, English.
A general characteristic of his favourite Elizabethan poetry is its
prodigality of incidental and superfluous beauties: even in the drama, it
takes the powers of a Shakspere to keep the vital play of character and
passion unsmothered by them, and in most narrative poems of the age the
quality is quite unchecked. To Keats, at the time when he wrote
_Endymion_, such incidental and secondary luxuriance constituted an
essential, if not the chief, charm of poetry. "I think poetry," he says,
"should surprise by a fine excess:" and with reference to his own poem
during its progress, "it will be a test, a trial of my powers of
imagination, and chiefly of my invention--which is a rare thing indeed--by
which I must make 4000 lines of one bare circumstance, and fill them with
poetry."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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