|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 60
Of the manner in which he had discharged these duties, some idea may
be formed from the volume of _Reports_ which was edited, the year
after his death, by Sir Francis Sandford. It would really be difficult
to imagine a better display of that "sweet reasonableness," the
frequency of which phrase on a man's lips does not invariably imply
the presence of the corresponding thing in his conduct. It would be
impossible for the most plodding inspector, who never dared commit a
sonnet or an essay, to deal with his subject in a way showing better
acquaintance with it, more interest in it, or more business-like
abstinence from fads, and flights, and flings. Faint and far-off
suggestions of the biographer of Arminius may, indeed, by a very
sensitive reader, be discovered in the slightly eccentric suggestion
that the Latin of the Vulgate (of which Mr Arnold himself was justly
fond) should be taught in primary schools, and in the rather perverse
coupling of "Scott and Mrs Hemans." But these are absolutely the only
approaches to naughtiness in the whole volume. It is a real misfortune
that the nature of the subject should make readers of the book
unlikely to be ever numerous; for it supplies a side of its author's
character nowhere else (except in glimpses) provided by his extant
work. It may even be doubted, by those who have read it, whether
"cutting blocks with a razor" is such a Gothamite proceeding as it is
sometimes held to be. For in this case the blocks are chopped as well
as the homeliest bill-hook could do it; and we know that the razor was
none the blunter. At any rate, the ethical document is one of the
highest value, and very fit, indeed, to be recommended to the
attention of young gentlemen of genius who think it the business of
the State to provide for them, and not to require any dismal drudgery
from them in return.
But the importance of Mr Arnold to English history and English
literature has, of course, little or nothing to do with his official
work. The faithful performance of that work is important to his
character; and the character of the work itself colours very
importantly, and, as we have seen, not perhaps always to unmitigated
advantage, the nature of his performances as a man of letters. But it
is as a man of letters, as a poet, as a critic, and perhaps most of
all as both combined, that he ranks for history and for the world.
A detailed examination of his poetic performance has been attempted in
the earlier pages of this little book, as well as some general remarks
upon it; but we may well find room here for something more general
still. That the poet is as much above the prose-writer in rank as he
is admittedly of an older creation, has always been held; and here, as
elsewhere, I am not careful to attempt innovation. In fact, though it
may seem unkind to say so, it may be suspected that nobody has ever
tried to elevate the function of the prose-writer above that of the
poet, unless he thought he could write great prose and knew he could
not write great poetry. But in another order of estimate than this, Mr
Arnold's poetic work may seem of greater value than his prose, always
admirable and sometimes consummate as the latter is, if we take each
at its best.
At its best--and this is how, though he would himself seem to have
sometimes felt inclined to dispute the fact, we must reckon a poet.
His is not poetry of the absolutely trustworthy kind. It is not like
that of Shelley or of Keats, who, when their period of mere juvenility
is past, simply cannot help writing poetry; nor is it, on the other
hand, like that of Wordsworth, who flies and flounders with an
incalculable and apparently irresponsible alternation. It is
rather--though I should rank it far higher, on all but the historic
estimate, than Gray's--like that of Gray. The poet has in him a vein,
or, if the metaphor be preferred, a spring, of the most real and
rarest poetry. But the vein is constantly broken by faults, and never
very thick; the spring is intermittent, and runs at times by drops
only. There is always, as it were, an effort to get it to yield
freely, to run clear and constant. And--again as in the case of
Gray--the poet subjects himself to a further disability by all manner
of artificial restrictions, struggles to comply with this or that
system, theories, formulas, tricks. He will not "indulge his genius."
And so it is but rarely that we get things like the _Scholar-Gipsy_,
like the _Forsaken Merman_, like the second _Isolation_; and when we
do get such things there is sometimes, as in the case of the
peroration to _Sohrab and Rustum_, and perhaps the splendid
opening of _Westminster Abbey_ and _Thyrsis_, a certain
sense of parade, of the elaborate assumption of the singing-robe.
There is too seldom the sensation which Coleridge unconsciously
suggested in the poem that heralded the poetry of the nineteenth
century. We do not feel that
"The fair breeze blew, the while foam flew,
The furrow followed free"--
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|