impassioned poet. In certain of his odes he characterizes his own processes. Do these exclude labor and study? According to that most accomplished and poetic of his editors, Professor Gildersleeve, it is quite otherwise (p. xxxvi): "Of the richness of his workmanship none is better aware than he. The work of the poet is a Dædalian work, and the sinuous folds are wrought with rare skill (O. 1, 105), the art of art is selection and adornment, the production of a rich and compassed surface (P. 9, 83). The splendor of the Goddesses of Triumphal Song irradiates him (P. 9, 97), and he is a leader in the skill of poesy, which to him is by eminence wisdom (σopía), wisdom in the art of the theme, and in the art of the treatment." And again (p. xliii): "Pindar is a jeweller, his material gold and ivory, and his chryselephantine work challenges the scrutiny of the microscope, invites the study that wearies not day or night in exploring the recesses in which the artist has held his art sequestered invites the study and rewards it."

To the same effect is the judgment of Croiset, the author of a fascinating book entitled La Poésie de Pindare (pp. 153-5): "From what precedes it will be sufficiently clear that we should be forming a totally false notion of Greek lyric poetry, if, in conformity with certain modern prepos"sessions, we supposed it to be the product of unreasoning impulse and blind inspiration. Nothing is less artless, in one way, than the fine frenzy of the Greek lyric. In these show-pieces of his art, the poet has but a general and remote interest in the things of which he is discoursing. It is solely by means of the imagination, and in a manner wholly artificial, that he succeeds in arousing his own emotional activity. Friendship, gratitude for open-handed hospitality, even piety in its stated and formal manifestations, are not sentiments which can ravish the poet out of his self-possession; and we can attribute still less influence to the stipulated fee, often the immediate cause of his strains. There are a thou

sand proprieties for him to observe. He must possess tact and pliancy of spirit which shall be equal to every occasion. Nothing is more difficult than to eulogize gracefully, — and precisely in this the whole art of the lyric poet consists. Whether gods or men form his subject, praise is his exclusive concern. Hence it is deep and continuous reflection, not ecstasy of any sort, which will conduct him to his goal. If ecstasy has any share in the production, it is chiefly in the final working up of his materials, after art and learning have foreseen everything, calculated and disposed everything, with reference to the effect intended.

"To all this the lyric poets paid full heed. In the preceding pages we have already passed in review a considerable number of Pindar's verses which contain allusions to laws by which he felt himself bound. At other times he pretends to lose his way, - then checks and corrects himself, and leads his chariot back again into the right road, and by so doing furnishes the proof that even his poetic rapture never ceases to keep watch over itself. The lyric poets often allude to reefs on which they must beware of shattering their barks Now the danger is one of excessive length, now of a superfluity of praise, again of triteness or monotony. Consummate skill is necessary in order to avoid these perils. Nothing is less like a wild and headlong career than this circumspect advance, so mindful of all its steps in the midst of its superb dignity and magnificent speed. /The lyric poet calls himself a cunning workman, a craft-master, for so we may translate the Greek words σοφός and σοφιστής which Pindar employs. He speaks of his talent as readily as of his Muse. He is fully conscious of his art and prides himself upon it. It is not through some chance inspiration that he brings to light such marvels; it is through a science which is perfectly master of itself, through an art which adds to the gifts of the Graces and the Muses that which is no less necessary, experience and craftsmanship. The poet's

inspiration is subject to laws, to fixed rules. These he must know and to these he must submit."

Of Horace, generally esteemed the calmer and saner mind, the dictum is well-known (Art of Poetry, 408–411): "Whether by genius or by art an excellent poem is produced, has often been the question; but I do not see what can be done by study without a rich vein of intellect, nor by genius when uncultivated; so true is it that either requires the help of either, and that the two combine in friendly union."

Dante has been quoted in the note to the passage. Milton, though in a quite different form of words, virtually echoes the Horatian sentiment (Reason of Church Government): "I began thus far to assent both to them and divers of my friends here at home, and not less to an inward prompting which now grew daily upon me, that by labor and intense study, which I take to be my portion in this life, joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to aftertimes, as they should not willingly let it die. . . . I applied myself to that resolution which Ariosto followed against the persuasions of Bembo, to fix all the industry and art I could unite to the adorning of my native tongue. . . . Nor to be obtained by the invocation of Dame Memory and her siren daughters, but by devout prayer to that eternal Spirit who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases. To this must be added industrious and select reading, steady observation, insight into all seemly and generous arts and affairs ”

Goethe might be quoted in favor of the extreme view, and might even be thought to go further than Shelley himself (Eckermann, March 11, 1828): "No productiveness of the highest kind, no remarkable discovery, no great thought which bears fruit and has results, is in the power of any one;

such things are elevated above all earthly control. Man must consider them as an unexpected gift from above, as the pure efflux of divine grace which he must receive and venerate with joyful thanks. They are akin to the daíμov, or genius of life, which does with him what it pleases, and to which he unconsciously resigns himself, whilst he believes he is acting from his own impulse. In such cases, man may best be considered as an instrument in the higher government of the world, as a vessel found worthy for the reception of a divine influence. I say this while I consider how often a single thought has given a different form to whole centuries; and how individual men have, by their expressions, imprinted a stamp upon their age, which has remained uneffaced, and has operated beneficially upon many succeeding generations." But against this must be alleged evidence tending to correct such an impression (Letter to Schiller, April 19, 1797): "Some verses in Homer, which are pronounced to be certainly not genuine and quite new, are of the same kind as some which I myself interpolated into my poem, after it was finished, in order to make the whole clearer and more intelligible, and to prepare betimes future events. I am very curious to see what I shall be inclined to add to or take from my poem, when I shall have got through with my present studies."

Of Schiller, Goethe says (Eckermann, Nov. 14, 1823): "Schiller produced nothing instinctively or unconsciously; he must reflect upon every step; therefore he always wished to talk over his literary plans, and has conversed with me about all his later works, piece by piece, as he was writing them." And Schiller describes his own procedure when engaged upon the Song of the Bell (Letter to Goethe, July 7, 1797): "I have now gone to work at my bell-founder's song, and since yesterday I have been studying in Kruenitz's Encyclopædia, out of which I get a great deal of profit. This poem I have much at heart, but it will cost me several

weeks, because I need for it so many varieties of moods, and there is a great bulk to be worked up."

In a bookseller's catalogue of manuscripts I find a quotation in point from an alleged autograph letter of Burns, said to bear date of Jan. 22, 1788, which, however, does not appear in any of the published collections in that place. The quotation is: "I have no great faith in the boasted pretensions to intuitive propriety and unlabored elegance. The rough material of fine writing is certainly the gift of genius. But I as firmly believe that the workmanship is the united effort of pains, attention, and repeated trial.”

The principle of composition, as distinguished from direct inspiration, was certainly recognized by Shelley, for he avows that he acted upon it in the writing of Adonais (Letter to Mr. and Mrs. Gisborne, June 5, 1821): “I have been engaged these last days in composing a poem on the death of Keats, which will shortly be finished. . . . It is a highly wrought piece of art, and perhaps better, in point of composition, than anything I have written."

Perhaps as good a summary as is required may be found in Saintsbury's note on the passage which has called forth this comment (Specimens of English Prose, p. 346) : “There is an obvious fallacy here. The finest passages are not originally inspired by labor and study, but in their finest shape they are the result of labor and study spent on the immediate result of inspiration." See also Sainte Beuve, Causeries du Lundi 2. 452.