by Various
All true poets are “touched with a coal from heaven,” but all do not burn with the same intensity; all are not poets of the same order. We would not have it otherwise. Tennyson is best suited to some minds, Longfellow to others. To-day we may enjoy the sublime eloquence of Milton; to-morrow prefer the calm beauty of Wordsworth. The mountains uplift the sensitive soul to an exaltation of delight, but stay too long among them and the feeling of awe becomes oppressive.
The poet is his own benefactor as well as ours. There are many who put on their singing robes when sad and weary, many who strike the lyre when their hearts are torn with grief, and are comforted by the strains they themselves evoke. When the real world was shut out from James the First of Scotland, he consoled himself with the world of imagination. Tasso relieved the gloom of his lonely cell with the splendid scenes of his Jerusalem. A poet, describing the pleasure derived from exercising the imaginative faculty, exclaims, “Oh! to create within the soul is bliss!” Tennyson, in his “Memoriam,” a poem which is the product of a great grief, speaks of even “The sad mechanic exercise” of verse-making “like dull narcotics, numbing pain.” Many an overtaxed heart or brain, which otherwise might have succumbed to the burden imposed upon it, has found vent for itself in song. Who knows what relief the writing of Samson Agonistes, whose hero was afflicted with the poet’s own sad malady, may have been to Milton; or the “Raven” to Poe, with whom poetry was “not a purpose, but a passion?” Even Byron’s egotism may be viewed leniently when we consider that probably he wrote for the relief of a life which, however erring, was much wronged and most unfortunate.
In this age, when, with the advancement of civilization and the greater cultivation of the physical sciences, the tendency seems to be toward the material, toward what we are pleased to call the “practical,” there is special need of the spiritualizing influence of poetry. Macaulay says that “In the progress of nations toward refinement, the reasoning powers are improved at the expense of the imagination”; and that “As civilization advances, poetry almost necessarily declines.” If this is true, we ought the more assiduously cultivate the poetic taste, that so noble a gift may not be wholly lost, and to appreciate the more highly those great bards who have already sung for us, since the probability of having others decrease as the centuries of civilization roll by. The tendency toward epicureanism, which the modern adaption of the results of the physical sciences to our bodily wants encourages, must not be allowed to strangle that religion of inner and spiritual things of which poetry is the apostle.
Men have at all times yielded to the sway of the seer. Originating as the poem did in the religious instinct, we are peculiarly rich in what may be termed “religious poems,” many of them of great power and beauty. Combined with music, as vehicles of appeal they have been most effective. One heart may be open to conviction through the sermon, while another may be influenced more readily by the hymn. This is not due to the music alone: the words sung have also their weight. Who knows the power that has been wielded by “Rock of Ages” or “Nearer, my God to Thee?” Moody would never have had the marvelous success which has attended his efforts as evangelist had it not been for Sankey’s services in connection with the work. The Psalms of the Bible and the inspired utterances of the Hebrew prophets take rank in the highest order of religious poetry.
Of songs on secular subjects there are many which have moved the hearts and influenced the lives of mankind. Thomas Moore immortalized Ireland by his patriotic lays, as did Scott his own native land. “Home, Sweet Home,” is familiar, yet ever dear. The “Battle Hymn of the Republic” and the “Star-Spangled Banner” never fail to evoke the enthusiasm of American citizens. The antislavery poems of Whittier and Longfellow helped to break the chain which bound the slaves. Even the rude rhymes of the oppressed, sung amid the toil of the field, tended to ease the burden of pain at their hearts. Who can read “Evangeline” without being taught a lesson of patient love and resignation? or “Aurora Leigh” without gaining a nobler conception of womanhood? or “The Cotter’s Saturday Night” without heightened sympathy with the domestic life of the poor?
Longfellow’s fame may be said to rest chiefly upon Hiawatha, a romance of Indian life, but he has many minor pieces unsurpassed for melody and moral sweetness. Can any doubt the influence for good of such poems as the “Psalm of Life,” “Excelsior,” and “The Builders?” Burns, like the true bard that he is, recognizes that poetry lies in the sentiment, and not in loftiness of theme or pomp of language. He does not disdain such simple subjects as the “mountain daisy” and the “wee, cowering, timorous beastie.” What of interest does the poetic mind find in a barefoot boy? Yet to Whittier, with his poet’s perception of the nearness between the realms of reality and indeality, he is a source of inspiration.
“Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy
Ere it passes, barefoot boy!”
We quote from Tennyson lines which seem to us to contain the solution of the vexed question of the relative superiority or inferiority of man and woman:
“For woman is not undeveloped man,
But diverse; could we make her as the man,
Sweet Love were slain; his dearest bond is this,
Not like to like, but like in difference.
Yet in the long years liker must they grow:
The man be more of woman, she of man,
He gain in sweetness and in moral height,
Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world,
Till at the last she set herself to man,
Like perfect music unto noble words;
And so this twain upon the skirts of Time
Sit side by side, full-summed in all their powers,
Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be,
Self-reverent each, and reverencing each.
. . . . either sex alone
Is half itself, and in true marriage lies
Nor equal nor unequal; each fulfills
Defect in each, and always thought in thought,
Purpose in purpose, will in will, they grow,
The single pure and perfect animal,
The two-cell’d heart beating with one full stroke, Life.”
Who is so lacking in patriotic feeling that he has not thrilled at these words of Scott?
“Breathes there a man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand.”
What can be grander and more inspiring than this from Holmes?
“Build thee more stately mansions,
O my soul,
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine out-grown shell by life’s unresting sea.”
The following lines are characteristic of Wordsworth:
“Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her. ’Tis her privilege
Through all the years of this, our life, to lead
From joy to joy! for she can so inform
That is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life
Shall e’er prevail against us, to disturb
Our cheerful faith that all which we behold
Is full of blessings.”
Does not humanity owe something to the poet
, to the high priest of the beautiful, the lofty, the true? It has ever been slow to pay its debt. Living, the world’s heroes and benefactors are neglected; dead, their dust is sacredly treasured. Thus it was with the Christian apostles, with Socrates, Galileo, and Roger Bacon. Burns spent his last days friendless and poverty-stricken; but a splendid mausoleum marks his resting-place. Even the immortal Milton was little regarded as a poet by his contemporaries. “The old blind poet,” says Waller, “hath published a tedious poem on the ‘Fall of Man.’ If its length be not considered as a merit, it hath no other.” In the words of Carlyle, “Men of genius ask for bread and receive a stone.”
There comes, however, a time of posthumous retribution, and he who was unappreciated by his own generation receives honor at the hands of posterity. Then every possible relic, every personal memento, every associated article becomes a priceless possession, and the old house at Stratford-on-Avon the Mecca of many a pilgrimage. Yet there are those who recognize the divine right of poets, whether living or dead, to the highest meed of honor. It is gratifying to note the widespread and enthusiastic celebration of recent birthdays of our own Whittier. Why not let the great ones of the earth know, while yet among us, the esteem in which they are held?
“Blessings be with him and undying praise,
Who gives us higher loves and nobler cares.”
Milton calls a good book the life-blood of a master spirit. This is especially true of a good poem, for it comes directly from the heart, and is the very essence of being. We have only pity for those old days of Puritan rule when poets were styled the “Caterpillars of the Commonwealth,” and indignation moved Sidney to write “The Defense of Poesy.” Wolf had a true conception of the worth and dignity of the poetic art when he declared that he would rather have written the “Elegy” than to capture Quebec.
But if mankind owes much to the poet, does not the poet owe much also to mankind? He is made the instrument of a Divine message to the world. Woe betide him if he utter it not in clear and unmistakable tones. Given as he is a nature sensitive, intense and passionate, “dowered with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, the love of love,” he may be peculiarly subject to temptations, but living so near the border-land of the spirit world, having communion with creatures bright and blest, he should be stronger than ordinary mortals to resist the evil. The waywardness characteristic of so many poets should not be attributed to the nature of their calling. On the other hand, probably poetry is a safety-valve for their excess of emotion, and they are the better men for being poets. The greatest punishment the erring seer can undergo is that agony of soul derived from his own clear perception of his deviation from his ideal. Yet there is a generous nobleness mingling even with the errors of the true poet. Amid all the excesses of Robert Burns, not one mean or petty action can be found.
The poet is but the mouthpiece of God, and should be modest in his highest flights. Mrs. Browning voices this thought when she says:
“Learn from hence, weak mortals, all ye poets that pursue
Your way still onward up to eminence!
Ye are not great, because creation drew
Large revelations round your earliest sense,
Nor bright, because God’s glory shines for you.”
Receiving true rays of light from the object, the faulty mirror may so distort them as to give back but an imperfect image. What an awful and yet sublime responsibility is his who is sent into the world to proclaim a message thereto! That grand and austere old poet, Milton, says: “He who would write heroic poems must make his whole life a heroic poem.” It is small wonder that Rasselas, after listening to an enumeration of the qualities essential to the poetic character, exclaimed: “Who, then, can be a poet?”
“Needs of Our Newspapers: Some Reasons for Their Existence” (1889)
SOURCE: Josephine J. Turpin Washington, “Needs of Our Newspapers,” New York Age, no. 2 (October 19, 1889).
Results of an Accomplished Woman Writer’s Study of the Negro Press of the Country—Its Intrinsic and Extrinsic Requirements
That the Negro requires a press of his own, few will be found to deny. Were it simply that he desires news in general, this requirement would be much less urgent; for the long established and wealthy journals of other races are much better fitted to meet this demand than we can hope for a long time to be. But he wants besides general news, which any reliable and well-conducted organ can furnish, news of a special type, of such a kind as publications owned and controlled by white men will not give. He needs information of race doings; he needs to know how events appear seen through the eyes of leading colored men. He needs to conduct journalistic enterprises, that he may show to the world his ability in this direction.
You may say that this is drawing the color-line. Why not merge our interests in those of the community, subscribe for the best newspapers only and refuse support to those poor and struggling, irrespective of race or nationality? But why speak of our drawing the color-line? It is drawn and most persistently by the whites. For us to attempt to ignore the fact, would be like trying to walk through a stone wall by simply making up your mind it is not there. The wall stands and you have only a broken head for your pains. The best way to obliterate this color-line, which is contrary to both reason and Christianity, is not foolishly to ignore it, but to act in accordance with the existing facts, while at the same time protesting against the injustice of the situation, and to develop to the uttermost the powers within us, to prove ourselves worthy of equality of every sort, to “make by force our merit known.”
Studying the Negro newspapers of the country, as any member of the race interested in its welfare must do, I have been struck with certain needs, both intrinsic and extrinsic, in drawing attention to which I hope I shall be understood. I had almost said “pardoned,” but that would imply a fault of making criticism, which I do not admit.
In the first place the journalistic field is often entered with the wrong motive. Where motive is low and altogether lacking, there can be no high standard for the paper. Some become editors merely for the sake of notoriety, for the delight of being in print; some are simply political tools, hired to profess the principles they avow; others hope to make a fortune, a hope I hardly need add which has never been realized by a colored editor. Every paper should have an aim, and a high and lofty one, should devote itself to principles of right, and should be brave and outspoken in their advocacy.
A good motive is, however, not all sufficient. Journalistic ability is essential. It is true that not every one who can write a good magazine article or even a book, has the peculiar gift necessary to successfully conduct a newspaper. There are Negro editors, however, who cannot write a decent article of any kind, who cannot even speak good English. Such men have no business in the editorial chair. I have sometimes thought that were some of them to read an essay entitled “Writing for the Press,” in Matthews’ “Hours with Men and Books,” they might lose some of that audacity which, after all, is but in accordance with the familiar quotation, “Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread.”
The colored newspaper is too indifferent to the quality of its material. Editors seem to accept contributions through fear of losing subscribers or making enemies. Now, if people think that because they take a certain paper that paper ought to print any and all of their senseless effusions, the sooner they are disabused of this idea, the better for them individually and for the race collectively. Those who have control of newspaper columns should put forth efforts to secure the best writers and when able to do so should pay them for their services.
Many of our papers give too much space and prominence to letters containing the local and personal news of insignificant towns, which cannot be of any interest to the public at large.
We ought to have more original and less patent matter. There are few colored papers without a page or two of patent material. It would be better to have a smaller sheet and that original than
one larger mostly patent. It would exact more time and money and brains but it would accomplish more for the race; and being more acceptable to the public would in the end be more profitable to its proprietors.
The original matter need not, however as is often the case, be personal abuse of a journalistic brother or some other disputant. If an opponent’s reasoning cannot be confuted, it does not help the argument to impugn his motives or seek to destroy his reputation. Nor should the opposite error of giving fulsome and extravagant praise and bestowing titles where they do not belong, be indulged. Our newspaper encomiums are so generally in the superlative degree that one wonders if the authors of such meaningless panegyrics do not experience acute chagrin when something really great is achieved and they can find for its description no language more exalted than that in daily use. Every public man of any ability is a leader, every scribbler of verses a poet, every teacher a professor, every ministor a doctor of divinity. All is splendid, grand, magnificent; by criticism praise is understood; and nothing which we do can be surpassed.
Another need is the improvement of the mechanical make-up of the paper. Many of our most talented writers are shy of the Negro press, because of the way in which they are unwittingly misrepresented. Articles appear with misspelt words, mistakes in grammar, sentences and parts of the sentences omitted or inserted in the wrong place. Greater care in the selection and superintendence of workmen would remedy this evil. The editors and managers of our newspapers should also manifest more interest in obtaining subscriptions and advertisements, and in securing active agents throughout the country. Mr. I. Garland Penn, in an able letter published in a recent issue of The Age, gives some pertinent suggestions on this point.
Among what I term the extrinsic needs of the Negro newspaper, one very conspicuous is need of support. This is why they “come to stay” and yet disappear after a fitful existence of a few weeks or months. Of course one reason why many lack support is because they are unworthy of support. The law of the “survival of the fittest” may be usually depended upon, yet there are reasons outside of the press itself why so many of our papers languish and die. Many colored people have a way of sneering at race enterprises. They are not colored men, they say; they are simply men. If the Negro newspaper ranks below white journals which can be bought for the same or a price even lower, they query why should they subscribe for the former. If they subscribe, they openly deride, and do the paper more harm with their tongue than they do good with their purse.