“‘Romanticism’ is inchoate because it is not a single intellectual movement but a complex of responses to certain conditions which Western society has experienced and continued to experience since the middle of the eighteenth century.” I imagine most movements are remembered and understood in reductive terms, and it seems the Romantic writers and poets of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century are no different. And in Romantics, Rebels & Reactionaries, Marilyn Butler does an admirable job complicating the basic assumptions about these affective and nature-inspired visionaries even if sometimes her main arguments get lost in a tangle of details and poetic recountings.
The traditional literary tale is that writers of the Enlightenment sought out to describe the world as they saw it in an effort to proclaim universal values for the vast bulk of mankind. Eventually, in reaction to these overtly rational works, the Romantics came along with writings that were imaginative, subjective, and prophetic to inspire progress. Most of the time, this new breed of rebellious poet made himself into a larger-than-life figure, both in his poetry and in the newspaper headlines.
However, as Butler argues, in many cases Romantic writing was more of an extension of neoclassical beliefs than an outright rejection of them. For instance, both styles came to eschew the frivolous trappings of modernity while sharing a penchant for the essential aspects of life, often embodied in visions of a primal past or in a hero from an outsider culture. Similarly, they both attempted to reflect Nature in its true form. For the neoclassical writer, this often meant writing that was formal and orderly, as it was built on the notion that the universe was a harmonious one. For the Romantic, this meant showcasing elemental aspects of existence: “love, family, feeling, pity, fear.” These emotions were heightened to their extreme in the sentimental and gothic novels of the period.
In addition to addressing the ostensible schism between the rational Enlightenment and its subjective aftermath, Butler also parses out the distinctions between the reactionary tendencies of the first generation of Romantic poets–spearheaded by Southey, Wordsworth, and Coleridge–and the atheism and hedonism of the second generation–the most notable of which are Shelley, Keats, and Byron. And while there are clear distinctions between the groups, such as the latter’s preference for traditional forms of writing over the former’s quietly reflective autobiographical works, there is much that overlaps. Even if there were arguments over what the individualistic poet should encourage–a sturdy world built on Christian morals or an unconventional one spent challenging those morals–there was still agreement that it was the lone poet’s job to be the one to encourage those morals (or lack thereof).
There are other fascinating sections of the book. One concerns the role poetry should play in the world more broadly. Should it be satiric, moralistic, polemical, or should revolutionary ideas be submerged within mythology? Butler’s answers depend on which poet she is analyzing at the time, but it seems to me the most obvious answer is all of the above.