e other
poets have succeeded often where Whitman has failed; they have shown the
beauty and cosmic significance, when Whitman has been merely cataloguing
the stark facts.

It may be objected, of course, that Whitman does not aim in his sex poems
at imaginative beauty, that he aims at sanity and wholesomeness; that
what he speaks--however rank--makes for healthy living. May be; I am not
concerned to deny it. What I do deny is the implication that the
wholesomeness of a fact is sufficient justification for its treatment in
literature. There are a good many disagreeable things that are wholesome
enough, there are many functions of the body that are entirely healthy.
But one does not want them enshrined in Art.

To attack Whitman on the score of morality is unjustifiable; his sex
poems are simply unmoral. But had he flouted his art less flagrantly in
them they would have been infinitely more powerful and convincing, and
given the Philistines less opportunity for blaspheming.

I have dwelt at this length upon Whitman's treatment of Sex largely
because it illustrates his strength and weakness as a literary artist.
In some of his poems--those dealing with Democracy, for instance--we have
Whitman at his best. In others, certainly a small proportion, we get
sheer, unillumined doggerel. In his sex poems there are great and fine
ideas, moments of inspiration, flashes of beauty, combined with much that
is trivial and tiresome.

But this I think is the inevitable outcome of his style. The style, like
the man, is large, broad, sweeping, tolerant; the sense of "mass and
multitude" is remarkable; he aims at big effects, and the quality of
vastness in his writings struck John Addington Symonds as his most
remarkable characteristic. {186} This vast, rolling, processional style
is splendidly adapted for dealing with the elemental aspects of life,
with the vital problems of humanity. He sees everything in bulk. His
range of vision is cosmic. The very titles are suggestive of his point
of view--"A Song of the Rolling Earth," "A Song of the Open Road," "A
Song for Occupation," "Gods." There are no detailed effects, no delicate
points of light and shade in his writings, but huge panoramic effects.
It is a great style, it is an impressive style, but it is obviously not a
plastic style, nor a versatile style. Its very merits necessarily carry
with them corresponding defects. The massiveness sometimes proves mere
unwieldiness,