letters on literature-第1节
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Letters on Literature
by Andrew Lang
Contents：
Introductory： Of Modern English Poetry
Of Modern English Poetry
Fielding
Longfellow
A Friend of Keats
On Virgil
Aucassin and Nicolette
Plotinus （A。D。 200…262）
Lucretius
To a Young American Book…Hunter
Rochefoucauld
Of Vers de Societe
On Vers de Societe
Gerard de Nerval
On Books About Red Men
Appendix I
Appendix II
DEDICATION
Dear Mr。 Way；
After so many letters to people who never existed； may I venture a
short one； to a person very real to me； though I have never seen
him； and only know him by his many kindnesses？ Perhaps you will add
another to these by accepting the Dedication of a little work； of a
sort experimental in English； and in prose； though Horacein Latin
and in versewas successful with it long ago？
Very sincerely yours；
A。 LANG。
To W。 J。 Way； Esq。
Topeka； Kansas。
PREFACE
These Letters were originally published in the Independent of New
York。 The idea of writing them occurred to the author after he had
produced 〃Letters to Dead Authors。〃 That kind of Epistle was open
to the objection that nobody would write so frankly to a
correspondent about his own work； and yet it seemed that the form of
Letters might be attempted again。 The Lettres e Emilie sur la
Mythologie are a well…known model； but Emilie was not an imaginary
correspondent。 The persons addressed here； on the other hand； are
all people of fancythe name of Lady Violet Lebas is an invention
of Mr。 Thackeray's： gifted Hopkins is the minor poet in Dr。 Oliver
Wendell Holmes's 〃Guardian Angel。〃 The author's object has been to
discuss a few literary topics with more freedom and personal bias
than might be permitted in a graver kind of essay。 The Letter on
Samuel Richardson is by a lady more frequently the author's critic
than his collaborator。
INTRODUCTORY： OF MODERN ENGLISH POETRY
To Mr。 Arthur Wincott； Topeka； Kansas。
Dear Wincott；You write to me； from your 〃bright home in the
setting sun；〃 with the flattering information that you have read my
poor 〃Letters to Dead Authors。〃 You are kind enough to say that you
wish I would write some 〃Letters to Living Authors；〃 but that； I
fear； is out of the question；for me。
A thoughtful critic in the Spectator has already remarked that the
great men of the past would not care for my shadowy epistlesif
they could read them。 Possibly not； but； like Prior； 〃I may write
till they can spell〃an exercise of which ghosts are probably as
incapable as was Matt's little Mistress of Quality。 But Living
Authors are very different people； and it would be perilous； as well
as impertinent； to direct one's comments on them literally； in the
French phrase； 〃to their address。〃 Yet there is no reason why a
critic should not adopt the epistolary form。
Our old English essays； the papers in the Tatler and Spectator； were
originally nothing but letters。 The vehicle permits a touch of
personal taste； perhaps of personal prejudice。 So I shall write my
〃Letters on Literature；〃 of the present and of the past； English；
American； ancient； or modern； to you； in your distant Kansas； or to
such other correspondents as are kind enough to read these notes。
Poetry has always the precedence in these discussions。 Poor Poetry！
She is an ancient maiden of good family； and is led out first at
banquets； though many would prefer to sit next some livelier and
younger Muse； the lady of fiction； or even the chattering soubrette
of journalism。 Seniores priores： Poetry； if no longer very
popular； is a dame of the worthiest lineage； and can boast a long
train of gallant admirers； dead and gone。 She has been much in
courts。 The old Greek tyrants loved her； great Rhamses seated her
at his right hand； every prince had his singers。 Now we dwell in an
age of democracy； and Poetry wins but a feigned respect； more out of
courtesy； and for old friendship's sake； than for liking。 Though so
many write verse； as in Juvenal's time； I doubt if many read it。
〃None but minstrels list of sonneting。〃 The purchasing public； for
poetry； must now consist chiefly of poets； and they are usually
poor。
Can anything speak more clearly of the decadence of the art than the
birth of so many poetical 〃societies〃？ We have the Browning
Society； the Shelley Society； the Shakespeare Society； the
Wordsworth Societylately dead。 They all demonstrate that people
have not the courage to study verse in solitude； and for their
proper pleasure； men and women need confederates in this adventure。
There is safety in numbers； and； by dint of tea…parties；
recitations； discussions； quarrels and the like； Dr。 Furnivall and
his friends keep blowing the faint embers on the altar of Apollo。
They cannot raise a flame！
In England we are in the odd position of having several undeniable
poets； and very little new poetry worthy of the name。 The chief
singers have outlived； if not their genius； at all events its
flowering time。 Hard it is to estimate poetry； so apt we are； by
our very nature； to prefer 〃the newest songs；〃 as Odysseus says men
did even during the war of Troy。 Or； following another ancient
example； we say； like the rich niggards who neglected Theocritus；
〃Homer is enough for all。〃
Let us attempt to get rid of every bias； and； thinking as
dispassionately as we can； we still seem to read the name of
Tennyson in the golden book of English poetry。 I cannot think that
he will ever fall to a lower place； or be among those whom only
curious students pore over； like Gower； Drayton； Donne； and the
rest。 Lovers of poetry will always read him as they will read
Wordsworth； Keats； Milton； Coleridge； and Chaucer。 Look his defects
in the face； throw them into the balance； and how they disappear
before his merits！ He is the last and youngest of the mighty race；
born； as it were； out of due time； late； and into a feebler
generation。
Let it be admitted that the gold is not without alloy； that he has a
touch of voluntary affectation； of obscurity； even an occasional
perversity； a mannerism； a set of favourite epithets （〃windy〃 and
〃happy〃）。 There is a momentary echo of Donne； of Crashaw； nay； in
his earliest pieces； even a touch of Leigh Hunt。 You detect it in
pieces like 〃Lilian〃 and 〃Eleanore；〃 and the others of that kind and
of that date。
Let it be admitted that 〃In Memoriam〃 has certain lapses in all that
meed of melodious tears； that there are trivialities which might
deserve （here is an example） 〃to line a box；〃 or to curl some
maiden's locks； that there are weaknesses of thought； that the poet
now speaks of himself as a linnet； singing 〃because it must；〃 now
dares to approach questions insoluble； and again declines their
solution。 What is all this but the changeful mood of grief？ The
singing linnet； like the bird in the old English heathen apologue；
dashes its light wings painfully against the walls of the chamber
into which it has flown out of the blind night that shall again
receive it。
I do not care to dwell on the imperfections in that immortal strain
of sympathy and consolation； that enchanted book of consecrated
regrets。 It is an easier if not more grateful task to note a
certain peevish egotism of tone in the heroes of 〃Locksley Hall；〃 of
〃Maud；〃 of 〃Lady Clara Vere de Vere。〃 〃You can't think how poor a
figure you make when you tell that story； sir；〃 said Dr。 Johnson to
some unlucky gentleman whose 〃figure〃 must certainly have been more
respectable than that which is cut by these whining and peevish
lovers of Maud and Cousin Amy。
Let it be admitted； too； that King Arthur； of the 〃Idylls；〃 is like
an Albert in blank verse； an Albert cursed with a Guinevere for a
wife； and a Lancelot for friend。 The 〃Idylls；〃 with all their
beauties； are full of a Victorian respectability； and love of
talking with Vivien about what is not so respectable。 One wishes；
at times； that the 〃Morte d'Arthur〃 had remained a lonely and
flawless fragment； as noble as Homer； as polished as Sophocles。 But
then we must have missed； with many other admirable things； the
〃Last Battle in the West。〃
People who come after us will be more impressed than we are by the
Laureate's versatility。 He has touched so many strings； from 〃Will
Waterproof's Monologue；〃 so far above Praed； to the agony of
〃Rizpah；〃 the invincible energy of 〃Ulysses；〃 the languor and the
fairy music of the 〃Lotus Eaters；〃 the grace as of a Greek epigram
which inspires the lines to Catullus and to Virgil。 He is with
Milton for learning； with Keats for magic and vision； with Virgil
for graceful recasting of ancient golden lines； and； even in the
latest volume of his long life； 〃we may tell from the straw；〃 as
Homer says； 〃what the grain has been。〃
There are many who make it
