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Ellery Channing (search for this): chapter 12
e Civil War. It is such writing as Keats pronounced to be next to fine doing, the top thing in the universe; and we must not forget that Wolfe, before Quebec, pronounced fine writing to be the greater thing of the two. The crowning instances of high-water marks are in those poems which, like Blanco White's sonnet, alone bear the writer's name down to posterity. How completely the truculent Poe fancied that he had extinguished for all time the poetry of my gifted and wayward kinsman, Ellery Channing; and yet it is not at all certain that the one closing line of Channing's A Poet's Hope, — If my bark sinks, 'tis to another sea, may not secure the immortality it predicts, and perhaps outlive everything of Poe's. Wasson's fine poem, Bugle Notes, beginning,— Sweet-voiced Hope, thy fine discourse Foretold not half Life's good to me, will be, unless I greatly mistake, as lasting as the seventeenth-century poems among which it naturally ranks. The mere title, Some Lover's Clear Day, of
E. A. Poe (search for this): chapter 12
The crowning instances of high-water marks are in those poems which, like Blanco White's sonnet, alone bear the writer's name down to posterity. How completely the truculent Poe fancied that he had extinguished for all time the poetry of my gifted and wayward kinsman, Ellery Channing; and yet it is not at all certain that the one closing line of Channing's A Poet's Hope, — If my bark sinks, 'tis to another sea, may not secure the immortality it predicts, and perhaps outlive everything of Poe's. Wasson's fine poem, Bugle Notes, beginning,— Sweet-voiced Hope, thy fine discourse Foretold not half Life's good to me, will be, unless I greatly mistake, as lasting as the seventeenth-century poems among which it naturally ranks. The mere title, Some Lover's Clear Day, of Weiss's poem will endure, perhaps, after the verses themselves and all else connected with that unique and wayward personality are forgotten. It is many years since I myself wrote of that rare and unappreciated thinke
Harriet Prescott Spofford (search for this): chapter 12
ve inserted what others would regard as their high-water mark. I should have predicted that it would be so; and that this would be, in Stedman's case, the stanzas beginning— Thou art mine; thou hast given thy word, and closing with that unsurpassed poetic symbol of hopeless remoteness— As the pearl in the depths of the sea From the portionless king who would wear it. In the case of Miss Hutchinson, her exquisite little poem of The Moth-Song will be equally unmistakable. When Harriet Prescott Spofford's first youthful story, Sir Rohan's Ghost, originally appeared, Lowell selected from it with strong admiration, in the Atlantic Monthly, the song, In a Summer Evening; and it still remains the most unequivocal product of her rare but unequal genius. The late Helen Jackson placed the poem called Spinning at the head of her volume of Verses, not because it was that which touched the greatest depths, but because it seemed to be universally accepted as her fullest, maturest, and most
Edward T. Channing (search for this): chapter 12
g, the top thing in the universe; and we must not forget that Wolfe, before Quebec, pronounced fine writing to be the greater thing of the two. The crowning instances of high-water marks are in those poems which, like Blanco White's sonnet, alone bear the writer's name down to posterity. How completely the truculent Poe fancied that he had extinguished for all time the poetry of my gifted and wayward kinsman, Ellery Channing; and yet it is not at all certain that the one closing line of Channing's A Poet's Hope, — If my bark sinks, 'tis to another sea, may not secure the immortality it predicts, and perhaps outlive everything of Poe's. Wasson's fine poem, Bugle Notes, beginning,— Sweet-voiced Hope, thy fine discourse Foretold not half Life's good to me, will be, unless I greatly mistake, as lasting as the seventeenth-century poems among which it naturally ranks. The mere title, Some Lover's Clear Day, of Weiss's poem will endure, perhaps, after the verses themselves and all else
E. E. Hale (search for this): chapter 12
's My Captain, the high-water mark may have been attained precisely at the moment when the poet departed from his theory and confined himself most nearly to the laws he was wont to spurn—in this case, by coming nearest to a regularity of rhythm. The praise generally bestowed on the admirable selections in the Library of American Literature, by Mr. Stedman and Miss Hutchinson, is a proof that there is a certain consensus of opinion on this subject. Had they left out Austin's Peter Rugg, or Hale's A Man Without a Country, there would have been a general feeling of discontent. It would have been curious to see if, had these editors been forced by public opinion to put in something of their own, they would have inserted what others would regard as their high-water mark. I should have predicted that it would be so; and that this would be, in Stedman's case, the stanzas beginning— Thou art mine; thou hast given thy word, and closing with that unsurpassed poetic symbol of hopeless
E. C. Stedman (search for this): chapter 12
from his theory and confined himself most nearly to the laws he was wont to spurn—in this case, by coming nearest to a regularity of rhythm. The praise generally bestowed on the admirable selections in the Library of American Literature, by Mr. Stedman and Miss Hutchinson, is a proof that there is a certain consensus of opinion on this subject. Had they left out Austin's Peter Rugg, or Hale's A Man Without a Country, there would have been a general feeling of discontent. It would have beenconnected with that unique and wayward personality are forgotten. It is many years since I myself wrote of that rare and unappreciated thinker, Brownlee Brown; and he is less known now than he was then; yet his poem on Immortality, preserved by Stedman and Hutchinson, is so magnificent that it cheapens most of its contemporary literature, and seems alone worth a life otherwise obscure. It is founded on Xenophon's well-known story of the soldiers of Cyrus's expedition. As soon as the men who
Tu Marcellus (search for this): chapter 12
oes not take so long to determine which among an author's works are the best; and it is probable that the Descent of Neptune in the Iliad, and the Vision of Helen in the Agamemnon of Aeschylus, and Sappho's famous ode, and the Birds of Aristophanes, and the Hylas of Theocritus, and the Sparrow of Catullus, and the De Arte Poetica of Horace were early recognized as being the same distinct masterpieces that we now find them. It is the tradition that an empress wept when Virgil recited his Tu Marcellus eris; and it still remains the one passage in the Aeneid that calls tears to the eye. After all, contemporary criticism is less trivial than we think. Philosophers, says Novalis, are the eternal Nile-gauges of a tide that has passed away, and the only question we ask of them is, How high water? But contemporary criticism is also a Nile-gauge, and it records highwater marks with a curious approach to accuracy. There was never a time, for instance, when Holmes's early poem, The Last L
Robert Browning (search for this): chapter 12
perish with prize poems and Commencement orations, if one can only determine in advance which is the single and felicitous offspring possessing that precise quality which the physicians name viability —the capacity to keep itself alive. Happily, this is not so difficult as one might suppose. It often takes a great while to determine the comparative merit of authors,— indeed, the newspapers are just now saying that the late Mr. Tupper had a larger income from the sales of his works than Browning, Tennyson, and Lowell jointly received,—but it does not take so long to determine which among an author's works are the best; and it is probable that the Descent of Neptune in the Iliad, and the Vision of Helen in the Agamemnon of Aeschylus, and Sappho's famous ode, and the Birds of Aristophanes, and the Hylas of Theocritus, and the Sparrow of Catullus, and the De Arte Poetica of Horace were early recognized as being the same distinct masterpieces that we now find them. It is the traditio<
Sparrow (search for this): chapter 12
omparative merit of authors,— indeed, the newspapers are just now saying that the late Mr. Tupper had a larger income from the sales of his works than Browning, Tennyson, and Lowell jointly received,—but it does not take so long to determine which among an author's works are the best; and it is probable that the Descent of Neptune in the Iliad, and the Vision of Helen in the Agamemnon of Aeschylus, and Sappho's famous ode, and the Birds of Aristophanes, and the Hylas of Theocritus, and the Sparrow of Catullus, and the De Arte Poetica of Horace were early recognized as being the same distinct masterpieces that we now find them. It is the tradition that an empress wept when Virgil recited his Tu Marcellus eris; and it still remains the one passage in the Aeneid that calls tears to the eye. After all, contemporary criticism is less trivial than we think. Philosophers, says Novalis, are the eternal Nile-gauges of a tide that has passed away, and the only question we ask of them is, How
C. F. Zelter (search for this): chapter 12
XI Concerning high-water marks in Eckermann's conversations with Goethe, the poet is described as once showing his admirer a letter from Zelter which was obviously witten in a fortunate hour. Pen, paper, handwriting, were all favorable; so that for once, Goethe said, there was a true and complete expression of the man, and perhaps one never again to be obtained in like perfection. The student of literature is constantly impressed with the existence of these single autographs, these high-water marks as it were, of individual genius. It is in the perfection and precision of the instantaneous line, wrote Ruskin in his earlier days, that the claim of immortality is made. Dr. Holmes somewhere counsels a young author to be wary of the fate that submerges so many famous works, and advises him to risk his all upon a small volume of poems, among which there may be one, conceived in some happy hour, that shall live. After the few great reputations there is perhaps no better anchor
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