The Poetic Principle

It will be my endeavour in the present essay to define, as clearly as the subject and my powers may permit, what I conceive to be, on the whole, the legitimate province of the Poetic Art.

It is not meant by this that I shall undertake to treat of the Poetic Art as a whole — of all the littératures of the world, and of Poetry in all its forms. First, because the limits assigned to the present paper would not permit so extended a discussion; and secondly, because such a discussion would be beyond my knowledge. I shall, therefore, confine myself to certain elementary, general truths which seem to me essential to the poetical, and particularly to the purely poetical, effect.

Every one who reflects must perceive that the highest of all imaginable literary delights is that which is purely aesthetic — that which is produced by the mere contemplation of the Beautiful. The beautiful is the sole legitimate province of the Higher Poetry. By the beautiful is meant that which is entirely apart from matter of fact. If we consult, for instance, the effect of a poem like the 'Adonais' of Shelley, we shall find that its claim to admiration is, in great part, referable to the manner in which it combines the sublime with the beautiful. The highest elevation of the reader's sentiment is obtained when the tones of the sublime are blended with exquisite melody.

The essence of a poem is its beauty. It is the object of Poetry to give pleasure. It is not to teach. It is not to preach. A poem must exist as a whole. The true poetical — the truly poetic — sentiment is in its nature ineffable; but we are justified in a definition of that sentiment so far as our definitions can be applied. The success of the poem depends upon the union of tone and harmony — of sentiment and expression — which produces congruity. That congruity is a principle of form; and without form there can be no poem.

It is not pretended in this essay to decide what is the best form of poetry. The only question which is here at issue is the poetic principle — the ideal which should govern the poet in the composition of his works. Whatever be the precise structural form adopted, the aesthetic tone must be preserved, the unity of impression must be sought, and the poem must be so constructed as to produce an effect of beauty and completeness.

Many of the best poets have, in order to heighten this effect, cultivated a certain brevity. They have felt that length is dangerous, because it necessitates a perpetual variation of detail which may interfere with unity. A short poem, rightly constructed, is an effect — quick, intense, and evanescent. It is, therefore, the fit medium for the highest poetic sentiment. Even the ancient epics — Homer and Virgil — are successful largely through their warm colouring and sustained tone, which maintain throughout a unity of impression despite length.

It may be objected that this doctrine refuses to poetry a certain grave office — that of instruction — and even that it denies poetry the loftier function of moral influence. To such objections I answer that a poem may be highly moral without being moralistic. The poet who aims to teach is inevitably brought into the region of the didactic. Moral beauty exists, but it must exist as beauty. The expression of a moral truth in terms which are poetical is not the same thing as the direct promulgation of that truth under the guise of poetry.

The true poet speaks in images. He employs metaphor and rhythm to awaken in the reader's mind an impression which, like a musical chord, compels a sympathetic response. The precision of language, the selection of words, and the cadence of the sentence are essential elements. The poem must be wrought — not written. The labor must be that of perfecting an effect; all remoteness of purpose must be avoided.

It will be observed that this theory excludes the narrative as a primary principle in the higher poetry. Narrative, being essentially allied to incident and to the mechanical succession of events, introduces elements foreign to pure beauty. Hence, in those poems that are chiefly narrative, the poetic principle is often subordinated to story-telling. Yet narrative may be employed subordinately to the poetic aim, as an instrument of the poetic effect, provided that the unity and the beauty of the whole are not sacrificed.

I do not mean to deny that there are other literary merits — tenderness of sentiment, grandeur of thought, depth of passion — which a poem may possess. But these merits, unless they conduce to the production of Beauty, are not in themselves sufficient to constitute a poem of the highest order. That which is essential is the predominance of the aesthetic effect over every other consideration. Wherever the poet allows the didactic, the controversial, or the historical element to preponderate, there is a departure from the true poetic principle.

In conclusion, then, it is my assertion that the highest purpose of poetry is the embodiment and communication of the Beautiful. The poet must strive to produce a unity of impression, to achieve a tone of sustained effect, to prefer brevity and concentration, and to subordinate all other ends to the supreme aim of beauty. So long as these principles are adhered to, poetry will retain its proper dignity and will perform its chief office — that of giving delight.