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Andrew Benson Brown‘s epic-in-progress, Legends of Liberty, chronicles the major events of the American Revolution. He writes history articles for American Essence magazine and resides in Missouri. Watch his Classical Poets Live videos here.
Sonnet Summaries of Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Parts I & II, and Henry V, by James A. Tweedie
. Henry IV, Part I In Henry IV Part 1 the king’s possessed By fears that Harry Hotspur wants him...
Andrew, this splendid video essay is an evocative continuation of your series on poet John Neihardt. The production values are excellent as always and your reading of his poetry along with your discussion are entertaining and informative (it would be awesome if a transcript could be provided, though that may be asking a lot.)
Prior to Part 1 of your series I had not known anything about Neihardt at all (other than Black Elk Speaks) and now feel much richer for the introduction. I am especially intrigued by his use of classical poetry as the the vehicle for describing the Old West — the wars, the explorations, the lawlessness, the conflicts, the daunting distances from civilization and the many other challenges and sacrifices faced out on the frontier. I see something of a paradox in the fact that this subject matter which involves so much potential chaos and resistance to taming should yet be so intriguingly described in verse — particularly couplets. It works and lends the narrative a vast epic sweep which makes it a worthy successor to the epics of the ancients. But WHY does it work so well in an Old West setting where a classical tradition seems something of an artificial construct? Perhaps it’s because classical poetry itself provides a way of looking at a rough history in a way which we can understand — an interprative lens, as it were. It allows us some distance with which to view what might otherwise seem an inarticulate rough and tumble world. But then why doesn’t that addition of formality spoil it? Perhaps couplets provide an echo of ballads which might well be the most appropriate soundtrack to the setting. It works so well with Neihardt but I can’t identify exactly why. I’d love to hear your views on this.
It’s a good question about the formality that might seem anachronistic, but I think strangely works. Of course, critics of Neihardt say exactly that, and Ezra Pound hated him for just this reason. It makes me wonder about the many unspoken implications that proponents of modernism assert when they talk about poetry needing to be “modern.” I honestly have just come to the conclusion that ‘modernness’ is a code word for ‘mundaneness’ that reflects the boring, uneventful lives of the people who write this stuff. The reverse of the Pascal quote about being unable to sit quietly alone in a room. Everybody today just sits quietly alone in rooms, isolated from everybody else. Neihardt’s adventure poetry is the opposite of this, and I think his formalism works because there is something universal about iambic meter in English. Rhyme might not be ‘natural’ to speech exactly, but it is part of a pan-Western tradition that’s been going on at least since Lentini invented the sonnet. Neihardt’s subject matter may be nearly contemporaneous with him, but they are important historical events that are part of the history books now. He’s drawing on traditional styles to talk about the fate of a traditional culture now part of a bygone era.
Strangely, when I read a modernist narrative about a bygone era like Tim Miller’s ‘To The House of the Sun,’ about the Civil War, I find it even more artificial than formal poetry is often accused of being. It is boring and full of cheap linguistic gimmicks like ampersands and doesn’t capture anything of the excitement of the period. Modernism is the ultimate artifice. It’s ‘naturalness’ is a lie that we have been fed.
I think John Neihardt would be profoundly pleased with ABB’s introduction to and commentary-cum-analysis of his great epic cycle, even if Andrew’s clearly expressed preference for vivid action scenes over contemplative passages might go against Neihardt’s own. But Andrew is very honest about the possible reasons for Neihardt’s stylistic choices: when he was dealing with direct testimony, or when he was depending on written sources, he may have had different approaches.
And it’s true that an epic based on actual history (and close enough in time to a poet, as Neihardt’s material was to him) may not allow for the kind of verbal and imaginative elaboration that a fully mythological story can allow. But as ABB points out, Neihardt can poeticize and change and revise what he has read to suit his needs as an artist.
In my view, an epic is usually a way to justify and promote a view of the world, a cultural loyalty, and even a way of living and thinking. In a major conflict, the epic always takes the side of the poet’s ethnicity and political loyalty, as the Greek Homer favors the Achaeans and the Roman Vergil favors the the band of Aeneas. The epic will paint the opposing side as also heroic and brave and worthy of respect, simply because this enhances the final victory over them by the favored side. So also does Neihardt show the Indian tribes not as savages, but as proud peoples defending their land against overwhelming forces. This honors them even in their defeat.
The way Neihardt navigated the practical challenges and purposes to writing epic, as you describe, has much to do with why he’s out of favor. My hope is that over time these videos may play a small role in reviving more general interest in him and seeing the literary landscape with a more balanced perspective. As you well know, who gets attention has everything to do with the gatekeepers who elevate certain people and keep others out.
Neihardt strikes me as one of those rare literary figures, such as Mark Twain, who bore witness to the rapidly changing landscape of the frontier; Missouri, at the time, being at the center of such a transition. As an aside, I’d love to hear you tackle local dialect of the era.
Thanks Cheryl. Neihardt uses a lot of dialect in his verse, especially in the early volumes. I guess there were a few different dialects current in Missouri in the 1800s, like ‘Missouri French,’ but I know little about this. I’m sure Neihardt’s work could be analyzed for sensitivity to this and I don’t know much has been done in this area—probably little. A real scholar could write a thesis on this topic, I imagine, but the fake scholars only want to talk about ‘cultural appropriation.’ Definitely something to look into.
Brilliant analysis by ABB and I totally agree with Joseph Salemi’s comments as well: the key issue being the nearness of the historical data, rendering imaginative reconstructions trickier, much trickier. The point here being: I like my epics – like Spenser’s FQ – to have supernatural overdrive! Furthermore – and I say this without having read Neihardt (and not intending to as a result of the review – though I am currently reading The Alamo on the recommendation of ABB) there is the other issue that the faults that ABB adumbrates (though mercifully) remind me of nothing so much as Tennyson – leaving aside the Charge of … – and the Idylls of the King. All pretty bloodless stuff really – and that late C19th tendency to wrap up war, religion/mysticism in a cloister of sententious piety. We get a kind of wholesome overview – tinged with sadness in the case of King Arthur (and Crazy Horse it seems) – but we don’t get – except in flashes (with Tennyson and Niehardt also) – the thing that poetry should give us: the new reality, the piercing the veil, whereby we see what we may have already known, but now we see it for the first time because the poet – through the Word – has brought it into being. If this sounds weird, consider it this way: we knew that Satan existed and was a bad a–e long before Milton write Paradise Lost, but once we read PL we see Satan in an unforgettably new way. Anyway, I digress: more fabulous work from ABB. Well done.
You make a good point. It’s true Neihardt is not on the same level as Shakespeare, Dante, Milton, but then few are. I just count him just an interesting poet to know. As far as piercing the veil, it could be debated whether the more mystical, contemplative aspects of his poetry do this. Perhaps only in flashes, as you say. I talk more about this aspect in part 3 when I get into his relationship with Black Elk.