"THE PASSING OF POETRY."

It is universally agreed that there has been a decline
in poetry as regards both the standard of its production and
its popularity; and this brings a wail of grief from many
critics. The causes generally assigned are:

a
There is decay of the poetic faculty in writers.

Poets now write with a view to pecuniary gain.

The reading taste of the public has deteriorated.

These are not really causes; they are conditions; and
only half the truth is conveyed by such a statement of them
in this connection. To get at the kernel of the matter we
must go beneath them in search of the reasons for their exist-
ence, if they do exist.

Is the poetic faculty in writers of the present day in a
state of decay? I think not; but the use of it is. The
reason is not hard to find; a literary man, to-day, in order
to get his message to the greatest number and to make a living,
must write prose. The literary man of skill and training who,
otherwise, would be writing the poetry of the age are writing
the novels, the plays, the magazine articles and the newspaper
editorials.

The objection raised to the fact that poets of our time do
not despise pecuniary compensation I do not consider germane;

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such a condition has always existed. All of the great poets
from Homer on down made their living by means of their poetry;
some of them, notably Virgil and Shakespeare, made fortunes.
There have been a few exceptions. Byron, for instance, at
first, would not take the money because he didn't need it. But
pecuniary reward has not been the least powerful of the incentives
that has spurred the pens of poets. Some of the great
poets did work, among their best, which was written to stave off
waiting creditors. Whence came this notion that a poet can put
forth his highest and best effort only when he works for the love
of his art alone? That because his art lies chiefly in the realm
of imagination, his food, clothes and other wants should also?
Why should a poet write a less worthy poem because he has vague
visions of a publisher's check than a painter should execute a less
worthy portrait because he has a cash order from some rich patron?
The idea is all a mistake; poetic exaltation and anticipations of
a check are not, by any means, incompatible emotions.

The deterioration of the reading taste of the public is generally put forth as a cause of the decline of poetry by the writers of poetry. Has the reading taste of the public deteriorated? Do you know why the Great Public reads at all, not only now, but why it has ever done so, from the time of cuneiform inscriptions and Egyptian hieroglyphics on down through the history of letters? The Great Public has always read and still reads for the sake of the story. By reading for the sake of the story I mean reading with an interest solely in what is told, aside from any judgment upon or appreciation of the literary perfection of the telling or the realization of any deeper meaning under the narration. It is

-3-

a common error to suppose that all readers of former generations pored over the classics because they knew them to be classics and because their cultured minds hungered for them and would not be satisfied with less; that as they read they paused to better enjoy the beauties of the rhetoric, to closer follow the lines and circles of the logic and, as it were, to run their mental fingers with a smile of appreciation over the keen edge of the wit. The truth is, the Great Public of former generations read the classics just as children read "Gulliver's Travels" --- for the sake of the story; and the classics which did not contain an interesting story were not very generally read.

There are few people who will dispute the statement that for the direct and vivid narration of a story pure and simple, prose is superior to poetry; so, the Great Public of the present time prefers to read its stories in prose. But before the use and perfection of prose for story telling, the world's stories were all told in verse; then the Great Public read poetry. The boys of Athens undoubtedly stole time away from their tasks and duties to read the deeds of Achilles, Agamemnon and Ulysses; but not because they had any premonition that Homer's works would be revered by us as almost sacred, but because the poems contained for them the equivalent of the Wild West and Rolling Sea stories of to-day. A reader from the great Public will read poetry of the highest order if it contains an interesting story which he can extract; but when he encounters faint and delicate shading of words, lofty images and involved rhetorical beauties he becomes confused, his mind is lost in the labyrinth, and it is only with difficulty that he flounders on to find the course of the story. The most elementary reader would be interested in the narrative of Shakes-

-4-

peare's "Romeo and Juliet," but such frequent passages as the
one in which Romeo, in order to tell Juliet that day is breaking
and he had better be going, says,

"Night's candles are burned out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops."

would be to him like hurdles set purposely in his path. If such
a reader should take up a poem in which was discussed weighty
questions of morals and philosophy, to use plain words, it would
make him tired, and he'd put the book down. But leaving the ele-
mentary reader out of the question, let us mark just here that ev-
ery universal poem, long or short, has for its germ a story.

The people who read not merely for the sake of the story have
always been and still remain relatively few. And the literary
men of to-day, having in their possession a more direct and effect-
ive means of interesting the masses in their stories, whether they
be of love, of a new invention, of politics or of war, have dropped
meter and rhyme for plain prose.

But what of the few who have literary taste and discernment;
do they not read current poetry? Ought not our numerous universi-
ties, colleges, normal and high schools furnish an audience suffi-
cient for the author who might wish not merely to tell his story,
but to adorn, to embellish, to beautify, to idealize it?

There is reason to believe that the general standard of the
reading public is being raised, that the proportion of readers of
literary taste and discernment is increasing, and that there is
a growing number of people who can and do read poetry understand-
ingly and appreciatively, from the ancient classics through the

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English classics; but there are reasons why present day
poetry does not appeal to them. Those who expect me to
offer as a reason, that this poetry is so bad, will be dis-
appointed. It is not that it is bad, but that it is un-
interesting. It is astonishing to see how much of the mass
of current poetry is technically good; and it is overwhelm-
ing to see how much of it is absolutely uninteresting.
The poets, instead of telling their stories are wandering a-
round in a maze of tenuous philosophy or struggling under a
load of propaganda, seeming not to realize that all far-reach-
ing and enduring poetry consists mainly of an interesting
story, beautifully or dramatically told. Even that poetry which
might be termed technically second rate, but which contains
this element, will out-reach and outlast all the technically
first rate poetry which lacks it. "The boy stood on the burn-
ing deck" will live longer than all the vague sentiments and
stern moralizations now being written.

The poet, if he is skillful, may work in some of his phi-
losophy of the life here or the life hereafter, but he will al-
ways keep his philosophy subordinate to the story. Most verse
writers of to-day reverse this formula, often to the absolute
exclusion of the chief ingredient; for example, they will moral-
ize and preach about white slavery rather than tell the dramatic
or beautifully sad story of a white slave.

Present day bards are preachers rather than minstrels. But,
even in their preaching, they are afraid of the ancient spirit
of poetry, they dare not abandon themselves to it. They always
contain and restrain themselves, they are always decorous; and

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so, their words lack the consuming fire of the words of the seer; in comparison, they are like a high church service compared to a Methodist revival.

So much for the shortcomings of the writers themselves; there are other reasons for the decline of poetry that are beyond the control of the poets.

of poetry

Much of the mechanism is worn and exhausted. Its chief piece of machinery, the imagination, has become dull. It was imagination exercised upon the unknown which contributed charm and power to the poetry of the ancients---in poetry the thing imagined is always more potent than the actuality. But what the ancients imagined we have in reality; and our realities exceed their imaginings. The things they imagined we can see and put our hands upon. They have become commonplace; reality takes the edge off of wonder. Vulcan's glowing forge is but a feeble flame compared to a modern steel mill. Jove's awful, death-dealing thunderbolts are but playthings compared to our twelve-inch guns; of his forked lightnings we have made household servants. The description of the whirling rush of chariots of war fails to grip us to whom dragon-eyed automobiles speeding through our streets at forty miles an hour is an ordinary sight. The sea is no longer an unexplored mystery: we have ruled it off into squares. There are for us no strange and unknown lands where dwell men with heads growing from under their arms; we have counted the inhabitants of the whole earth. It is not worth the effort of any poet of to-day to go to mythology and the unknown, once the chief storehouses of poetic material, because it is impossible for him to write *convincingly*. He cannot write *of them*

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convincingly of Vulcan's forge because he has seen the steel mill. The poets recognize their plight, and are floundering about in search of subject matter. But, the question naturally arises, cannot the poet of to-day write great poetry -- for example--of the aeroplane? Certainly he can if he ever gets the chance to tell the story of how the "eagle-winged brigade" saved the battle, but he will write nothing that will be read next year if he confines himself to abstract contemplation of the flying machine.

And not only is much of the mechanism of ancient and middle poetry worn, but, a fact more vitally important to the aspiring poet, our language has grown old; the words have been turned and dusted and brushed until the nap is worn off. Ah! if the different nationalities that assembled on this continent and founded the American State had only formed a new language, then we should have been able to produce a literature to rival that of Antiquity or the Renaissance. The English race, with its wonderful genius for poetry, given a fresh language, one that had not been worked and explored, one in which an imaginative mind might experience the thrills of making discoveries, would produce another Spencer, another Dryden, perhaps, another Shakespeare.

Prose does not suffer on account of the age of the language as does poetry because it does not so depend upon form, upon the sparkle and brilliancy of words, the fitness and beauty of phrase. If a man has an important idea he may express it in the plainest, bluntest prose, and his message will carry; if he has an interesting story to tell, he need not do so clearly in prose, and it will be read; but if he should express either in such style of poetry it would fall flat.

-8-

Another consideration to which as much thought is not given as its importance demands is that the English language has already a full supply of poetry. There are some languages still deficient, but the English language has poetry to spare. And, the worse for those who have the ambition to mount Parnassus, so much of it is good poetry; so much of it cannot be improved upon. It seems that bygone poets of the language took no thought of present day barbs or they determined to forstall them; for they said everything poetic in every conceivable way. Many of the purely English subjects they completely exhausted. I doubt that it is possible to add anything original or of value to English poetry by writing poems on green meadows, or writing shepherd's songs, odes to nightingale, skylarks and daisies; Chaucer, Marlowe, Spencer, Shelley, Keats, Burns and a host of others did their work too well.

Poetry is primarily the language of the imagination; and we are not living in an imaginative age. Science now reduces everything to cold and solid facts; nothing is believed which cannot be proved. Our age is distinctly prosaic, and prose is its natural mode of expression.

JAMES WELDON JOHNSON.

'13.

"THE PASSING OF POETRY."

It is universally agreed that there has been
a decline in poetry as regards both its production and
its popularity; and this brings a wail of grief from
many critics. The causes generally assigned are:

There is a decay of the poetic faculty in
writers.

These are not really causes: they are conditions; and only half the truth is conveyed by such a statement of them in this connection. To get at the kernel of the matter we must go beneath them in search of the reasons for their existence, if they do exist.

-2-

number and to make a living, must write prose. The
literary men of skill and training who, otherwise,
would be writing the poetry of the age are writing the
novels, the plays, the magazine articles and the news-
paper editorials.

The objection raised to the fact that poets
of our time do not despise pecuniary compensation I do
not consider germane; such a condition has always exist-
ed. All of the great poets from Homer on down made
their living by means of their poetry; some of them,
notably Virgil and Shakespeare, made fortunes. There
have been a few exceptions. Byron, for instance, at
first, would not take the money because he didn't need
it. But pecuniary reward has not been the least power-
ful of the incentives that have spurred the pens of
poets. Some of the great poets did work, among their
best, which was written to stave off waiting creditors.
Whence came this notion that a poet can put forth his
highest and best effort only when he works for the love
of his art alone? That because his art lies chiefly in
the realm of imagination, his food, clothes and other
wants should also? Why should a poet write a less worthy
poem because he has a vague visions of a publisher's
check than a painter should execute a less worthy portrait
because he has a cash order from some rich patron?

-3-

The idea is all a mistake; poetic exaltation and an-
ticipations of a check are not, by any means, incom-
patible emotions.

The deterioration of the reading taste of the
public is generally put forth as a cause of the decline
of poetry by the writers of poetry. Has the reading
taste of the public deteriorated? Do you know why the
Great Public reads at all, not only now, but why it has
ever done so, from the time of cuneiform inscriptions
and Egyptian hieroglyphics on down through the history
of letters? The Great Public has always read and still
reads for the sake of the story. By reading for the
sake of the story I mean reading with an interest solely
in what is told, aside from any judgment upon or appreci-
ation of the literary perfection of the telling or the
realization of any deeper meaning under the narration.
It is a common error to suppose that all readers of for-
mer generations pored over the classics because they knew
them to be classics and because their cultured minds hun-
gered for them and would not be satisfied with less; that
as they read they paused to better enjoy the beauties of
the rhetoric, to closer follow the lines and circles of
the logic and, as it were, to run their mental fingers with
a smile of appreciation over the keen edge of the wit. The
truth is, the Great Public of former generations read the

-4-

There are few people who will dispute the statement that for the direct and vivid narration of a story pure and simple, prose is superior to poetry; so, the Great Public of the present time prefers to read its stories in prose. But before the use and perfection of prose for story telling, the world's stories were all told in verse; then the Great Public read poetry. The boys of Athens undoubtedly stole time away from their tasks and duties to read the deeds of Achilles, Agamemnon and Ulysses; but not because they had any premonition that Homer's works would be revered by us as almost sacred, but because the poems contained for them the equivalent of the Wild West and Rolling Sea stories of to-day. A reader from the Great Public will read poetry of the highest order if it contains an interesting story which he can extract; but when he encounters faint and delicate shadding of words, lofty images and involved rhetorical beauties he becomes confused, his mind is lost in the labyrinth, and it is only with difficulty that he flounders on to find the course of the story. The most elementary reader would

-5-

be interested in the narrative of Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet," but such frequent passages as the one in which Romeo, in order to tell Juliet that day is breaking and he had better going, says,

(?)
would be to him like hurdles set purposely set in his
path. If such a reader should take up a poem in which
was discussed weighty questions of morals and philosophy,
to use plain words, it would make him tired, and he'd
put the book down.

But leaving the elementary reader out,
the question, let us now just the while,

The people who read not merely for the sake of
the story have always been and still remain relatively
few. And the literary men of to-day, having in their
possession a more direct and effective means of inter-
esting the masses in their stories, whether they be of
love, of a new invention, of politics or of war, have
dropped meter and rime for plain prose.

But what of the few who have literary taste
and discernment; do they not read current poetry?
Ought not our numerous universities, colleges, normal
and high schools furnish an audience sufficient for the
author who might wish not merely to tell his story, but
to adorn, to embellish, to beautify, to idealize it?

-6-

There is reason to believe that the general standard of the reading public is being raised, that the proportion of readers of literary taste and discernment is increasing, and that there is a growing number of people who can and do read poetry understandingly and appreciatively, from the ancient classics through the English classics; but there are reasons why present day poetry does not appeal to them. Those who expect me to offer as a reason, that this poetry is so bad, will be disappointed for in my estimation much of it is as good as some which has gained a place on the shelves of fame. Much of the mechanism of poetry is worn and exhausted. Its chief piece of machinery, the imagination, has become dull. It was imagination exercised upon the unknown which contributed its charm and power to the poetry of the ancients ---in poetry the thing imagined is always more potent than the actuality. But what the ancients imagined we have in reality; and our realities exceed their imaginations. The things they imagined we can see and put our hands upon. They have become common-place; reality takes the edge off wonder. Vulcan's glowing forge is but a feeble flame compared to modern steel mill.

-7-

lightenings we have made household servants. The description of the whirling rush of chariots of war fails to grip us to whom dragon-eyed automobiles speeding through our streets at forty miles an hour is an ordinary sight. The sea is no longer an unexplored mystery; we have ruled it off into squares. There are for us no strange and unknown lands where dwell men with heads growing from under their arms; we have counted the inhabitants of the whole earth. It is not worth the effort of any poet to-day to go to mythology and the unknown, once the chief storehouses of poetic material. B