the discipline of meter 135
classical meters in favor of presenting a unifying rhythm to English patriotic
culture. The echoes of and in Newbolt’s poems remind us only of one aspect of
this particularly Edwardian figure; Newbolt’s report, consolidating an idea of
English literature in the postwar period, guaranteed that the dichotomy be-
tween “native” rhythms and “foreign” meters would continue throughout the
twentieth century.
Newbolt’s own assertion of accent as the true and native basis for English
verse mirrors common distinctions between simple or lowly “verses” and more
metrically complex, and therefore artificial, “poetry.” The NED defined poetry
in 1907 as “a composition in verse or metrical language, or in some equivalent
patterned arrangement of language; usually also with choice of elevated words
and figurative uses, and option of a syntactical order, differing more or less
from those in ordinary writing. In this sense, poetry in its simplest sense or
lowest form has been identified with versification or verse.”^69 Newbolt’s patri-
otic rhythm was part of a broader movement in education that abstracted
“meter,” misunderstood as accent, stress, or particularly “beat,” as an invisible
unifying cultural force. Likewise, “verses” by amateur poets inspired by the
war, by the marching rhythms of military action, were folded into a pedagogic
and critical assessment of the state of poetry in general in the Georgian period.
C.F.E. Spurgeon, in her 1917 English Association pamphlet, Poetry in the
Light of War, links the outpouring of poetry to the national education system
with some satisfaction:
This war, which has taught and is teaching us so many things has, it
seems to me, brought into relief and emphasized certain qualities in po-
etry, and the prominence of these qualities has in its turn raised some
questions in my mind with regard to the teaching of literature . . . there
has been a quickening of interest in poetry, both among those who are
fighting and those who stay at home, that people who read it little be-
fore have been led to read it more, while those who cared for it before
the war have found that caring increased and intensified. Some people
have expressed great surprise at this. We have all of us perhaps felt a
slight thrill of surprise mingled with satisfaction. But the fact that there
has been any surprise felt is a proof that the matter of poetry is either
imperfectly understood or imperfectly remembered. For if it is remem-
bered, it is clear that it is no more surprising that a soldier before battle
or those in anguish of spirit at home should turn to poetry and find in
it refreshment and sustenance, than that a hungry and physically ex-
hausted man should find pleasure in a meal of bread and wine.^70According to Spurgeon, the aims of national education in regard to poetry,
then, have been satisfied in that “the matter of poetry” is remembered in
times of “anguish of spirit,” even if it is not understood. This sentiment is a