Abstract

Whether because of a misunderstanding of the concept of evolution or for some other reason, a change has apparently come in the attitude of poets toward nature. Mr. Beach in his recent book laments the decline of faith in the benevolence of nature and presents the general attitude of nineteenth-century poets toward it as a bridge between the age of faith and the age of disbelief.1 But since neither terminal is proved, his fundamental thesis, which he calls a tragedy of belief, is unconvincing. The consequence of the acceptance of such a tragedy was clearly foreseen by G. K. Chesterton, who recently wrote:When first it was even hinted that the universe may not be a great design, but only a blind and indifferent growth, it ought to have been perceived instantly that this must for ever forbid any poet to retire to the green fields as to his home, or to look at the blue sky for his inspiration. . . . Even the nature-worship which Pagans have felt, even the nature-love which Pantheists have felt, ultimately depends as much on some implied purpose and positive good in things, as does the direct thanksgiving which Christians have felt. . . . Poets, even Pagans, can only directly believe in Nature if they indirectly believe in God; if the second idea should really fade, the first is bound to follow sooner or later; and, merely out of a sad respect for human logic, I wish it had been sooner.

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