The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1901-08-03
The High Opinions Entertained of Him bv
Competent British Critics of
His Own Day.
Saxon Literature Has Nothing to Compare
with the Sweet Melodies of
the Irish Bard.

l have been turning over the "rreas-
ury of Irish Poetry" edited by Stop
ford A. Brooke and Il. W. Rolleston,
writes Michael Monahan in the New
York Freclnan's Journal. OF the merits
of the compilation as Il whole, 1t is
unnecessary to speak, since the critics
have all had their say and their vcr-
dict has been generally favorable.
should. however, like to offer some
thing anent Mr. Brooke's dispnraging
estimate of the most eminent poet Ire
land has produced and one of the first
lyrists of all time-Thomas Moore.
The worst thing in this book of
Irish poetry is the Rev. Mr.. Brooke's
prose. Had that been omitted. or, ut
least, the section dealing critically with
Moore, the book would be unexccp-
tionablc. Mr.. Brooke is Il very minor
poet himself, as this collection bears
evidence. He is assurcdly not with
out feeling for Irish poetry. Many of
his observations are in high degree
Illuminating. But in his treatment of
the largest figure in Irish poetical lit
4, q t,,p (x,,1, &c, t,,,o oN1l
lie reveals all the one-sidcdncss of n
smnll-beer critic. In his attempted be-
littling of Moore lie offers nothing
new, and there is Il note of personal
acerbity in his writing which is dia-
cult to understand, except on the
theory that the mere critic who can
not create literature usually hates the
man who can. This indeed is n too
familiar vice OF the sort of criticism
which disfgures the present work.
When Apollo tiayed Marsyns it was
no doubt beautiful and christening,
though painful, sight. When the Rev.
Mr.. Brooke attempts the like function
with poet whose genius he is in
capable Of comprelcnding we have the
ludicrous spectacle of Marsyas trying
to flay Apollo. This attempted revers-
nj OF the classic precedent affords a
new proof of that courage born Of
foolishness which hesitates not to
rush in where angels fcar to tread.
Lord Byron said that Moore's Irish
Melodies are worth all the epics ever
written. This may be easily granted
a hyperbolc, but surely any one of
the Melodies is worth more than the
complete works of the Rev. Stopford
A. Brooke. The reverend poetaster
cannot understand how Moore could
wed some of the spiritual Irish music
to the bacchanalian words with which
he degrades it's elfin mysticism" Why
does not Mr.. Brooke or some one else
try his hand at making better songs? ?
mo one drcnms," says the compla-
cent, almost purling Brooke-meaning
that he himself does not dream-"of
comparing Moore with the greater men
or Of giving his poetry too important
place in the history of English song;
but the man whose work Byron frank
ly admired, whom Scott did not dis
praise, who received letters of thanks
and appreciation from readers in Amer
lea, Europe and Asia; who fulfilled
Matthew Arn0ld's somewhat foolish
criterion Of greatness by being known
and accepted on the Continent; whom
the Italians, French, Germans, Rus
slams, Swedes and Dutch translated; !;
whose Italia Rookh" was partly put
into Persian and became the comDan-
ion of Persians in their travels and
in the streets of Ispahan; to whom
publishers like Longmans gave three
thousand pounds for poem before
they had ever seen it-as tribute to
reputation already acquired-can sure
1y be treated with the Indifferent con-
tempt which some have Iavished upon
him"
l have italicized the last quoted
words in order the more strongly to
mark the dishonesty Of Mr.. Brooke's
critical method. Here he would have
you believe he is making a great show
Of liberality before he proceeds to his