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Title: A History of English literature : A practical text-book
Author: Albert, Edward
Language: English
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A HISTORY OF
ENGLISH LITERATURE

_Let us now praise famous men, ...
Such as found out musical tunes,
And recited verses in writing....
Their bodies are buried in peace;
But their name liveth for evermore._
The Wisdom of Jesus the Son of
Sirach, or Ecclesiasticus

A HISTORY OF
ENGLISH LITERATURE

A PRACTICAL TEXT-BOOK

EDWARD ALBERT, M.A.

GEORGE WATSON’S COLLEGE, EDINBURGH, AUTHOR OF
“A PRACTICAL COURSE IN ENGLISH”

NEW YORK

THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY

PUBLISHERS

_Third Printing_

_Printed in the United States of America_

PREFACE

It may be of use to explain briefly the principles underlying the
construction of this book.

In the first place the aim has been to make the book comprehensive.
All first-class and nearly all second-class authors (so far as
such classification is generally accepted) have been included. Due
proportion between the two groups has been attempted by giving the more
important authors greater space. The complete index should assist in
making the book a handy volume of reference as well as a historical
sketch.

In accordance with the plan of making the volume as comprehensive as
possible, a chapter has been added dealing with modern writers. An
attempt of this kind has certain obvious drawbacks; but it has at
least the double advantage of demonstrating the living nature of our
literature, and of setting modern authors to scale against the larger
historical background.

Secondly, the endeavor has been to make the book practical. Discussion
has been avoided; facts, so far as they are known and verifiable, are
simply stated; dates are quoted whenever it is possible to do so, and
where any doubt exists as to these the general opinion of the best
authorities has been taken; there are frequent tabulated summaries to
assist the mind and eye; and, lastly, there are the exercises.

It would be as easy to overpraise as it is to underestimate the value
of the exercises. But in their favor one can at least point out that
they enable the student to work out for himself some simple literary
and historical problems; that they supply a collection of _obiter
dicta_ by famous critics; and that they are a storehouse of many
additional extracts. The index to all the extracts in the book should
assist the student in locating every quotation from any writer he may
have in view.

While he has never neglected the practical aspect of his task, the
writer of the present work has never been content with a bleak summary
of our literary history. It has been his ambition to set out the facts
with clearness, vivacity, and some kind of literary elegance. How far
he has succeeded the reader must judge.

The use of the Bibliography (Appendix II) is strongly urged upon all
readers. Such a book as the present cannot avoid being fragmentary and
incomplete. The student should therefore pursue his inquiries into the
volumes mentioned in the Appendix. Owing to the restrictions of space,
the Bibliography is small. But all the books given are of moderate
price or easily accessible. Moreover, they have been tested by repeated
personal use, and can be recommended with some confidence.

There remains to set on record the author’s gratitude to his colleagues
and good friends, for their skill and good-nature in revising the
manuscript and in making many excellent suggestions.
E. A.
EDINBURGH

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE OLD ENGLISH PERIOD 1

II. THE MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD 15

III. THE AGE OF CHAUCER 32

IV. FROM CHAUCER TO SPENSER 57

V. THE AGE OF ELIZABETH 87

VI. THE AGE OF MILTON 159

VII. THE AGE OF DRYDEN 190

VIII. THE AGE OF POPE 231

IX. THE AGE OF TRANSITION 281

X. THE RETURN TO NATURE 362

XI. THE VICTORIAN AGE 451

XII. THE POST-VICTORIAN AGE 518

GENERAL QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES 562

APPENDIX I: GENERAL TABLES 581

APPENDIX II: BIBLIOGRAPHY 591

INDEX TO EXTRACTS 601

GENERAL INDEX 607

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Permissions to use copyrighted material have been courteously granted
by the following American publishers:

_Brentano’s, Inc._ for the right to print extracts from the works of
Bernard Shaw; _E. P. Dutton & Company_ for Siegfried Sassoon; _Duffield
& Company_ for H. G. Wells; _Dodd Mead & Company_ for Rupert Brooke;
_Harper & Brothers_ for Thomas Hardy; _John W. Luce & Company_ for J.
M. Synge; and _Charles Scribner’s Sons_ for John Galsworthy, and R. L.
Stevenson.

We have also obtained from the literary agents of Rudyard Kipling,
Joseph Conrad, and J. E. Flecker, permission to use the selections
included from these authors. To all the above we wish to express our
acknowledgment and thanks.

A HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE

CHAPTER I

THE OLD ENGLISH PERIOD

THE BEGINNINGS

Of the actual facts concerning the origin of English literature we
know little indeed. Nearly all the literary history of the period,
as far as it concerns the lives of actual writers, is a series of
skillful reconstructions based on the texts, fortified by some scanty
contemporary references (such as those of Bede), and topped with a mass
of conjecture. The results, however, are astonishing and fruitful, as
will be seen even in the meager summary that appears in the following
pages.

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND

The period is a long one, for it starts with the fifth century and
concludes with the Norman Conquest of 1066. The events, however, must
be dismissed very quickly. We may begin in 410 with the departure of
the Romans, who left behind them a race of semi-civilized Celts. The
latter, harassed by the inroads of the savage Caledonians, appealed
for help to the adventurous English. The English, coming at first as
saviors, remained as conquerors (450–600). In the course of time they
gained possession of nearly all the land from the English Channel to
the Firth of Forth. Then followed the Christianizing of the pagan
English, beginning in Kent (597), a movement that affected very deeply
all phases of English life. In succession followed the inroads of the
Danes in the ninth century; the rise of Wessex among the early English
kingdoms, due in great measure to the personality of King Alfred, who
compromised with the Danes by sharing England with them (878); the
accession of a Danish dynasty in England (1017); and the Gallicizing
of the English Court, a process that was begun before the Conquest of
1066. All these events had their effect on the literature of the period.

LITERARY FEATURES OF THE PERIOD

=1. Pagan Origins.= The earliest poems, such as _Widsith_
and _Beowulf_, present few Christian features, and those that
do appear are clearly clumsy additions by later hands. It is fairly
certain, therefore, that the earliest poems came over with the pagan
conquerors. They were probably the common property of the bards or
gleemen, who sang them at the feasts of the warriors. As time went on
Christian ideas were imposed upon the heathen poetry, which retained
much of its primitive phraseology.

=2. Anonymous Origins.= Of all the Old English poets, we have
direct mention of only one, Cædmon. The name of another poet, Cynewulf,
obscurely hinted at in three separate runic or riddling verses. Of the
other Old English poets we do not know even the names. Prose came much
later, and, as it was used for practical purposes, its authorship is in
each case established.

=3. The Imitative Quality.= Nearly all the prose, and the larger
part of the poetry, consists of translations and adaptations from the
Latin. The favorite works for translation were the lives of saints,
the books of the Bible, and various works of a practical nature. The
clergy, who were almost the sole authors, had such text-books at hand,
and were rarely capable of reaching beyond them. This secondhand nature
of Old English is certainly its most disappointing feature. In most
cases the translations are feebly imitative; in a few cases the poets
(such as Cynewulf) or the prose-writers (such as Alfred) alter, expand,
or comment upon their Latin originals, and then the material is of
much greater literary importance.

=4. The Manuscripts.= It is very likely that only a portion of
Old English poetry has survived, though the surviving material is
quite representative. The manuscripts that preserve the poetical texts
are comparatively late in their discovery, are unique of their kind,
and are only four in number. They are (_a_) the _Beowulf_
manuscript (containing also a portion of a poem _Judith_),
discovered in 1705, and said to have been written about the year 1000;
(_b_) the Junian manuscript, discovered in 1681 by the famous
scholar Junius, and now in the Bodleian Library, containing the Cædmon
poems; (_c_) the Exeter Book, in the Exeter Cathedral library (to
which it was given by Leofric about 1050, being brought to light again
in 1705), which preserves most of the Cynewulf poems; and (_d_)
the Vercelli Book, discovered at Vercelli, near Milan, in 1832, which
contains, along with some prose homilies, six Old English poems,
including _Andreas_ and _Elene_.

THE LANGUAGE

The Old English language was that of a simple and semi-barbarous
people: limited in vocabulary, concrete in ideas, and rude and forcible
in expression. In the later stages of their literature we see the
crudeness being softened into something more cultured. In grammar the
language was fairly complicated, possessing declinable nouns, pronouns,
and adjectives, and a rather elaborate verb-system. There were three
chief dialects: the Northern or Northumbrian, which was the first to
produce a literature, and which was overwhelmed by the Danes; the West
Saxon, a form of the Mercian or Midland, which grew to be the standard,
as nearly all the texts are preserved in it; and the Kentish or Jutish,
which is of little literary importance.

BEOWULF

=1. Origin of the Poem.= It is almost certain that the poem
originated before the English invasions. There is no mention of
England; Beowulf himself is the king of the “Geatas.” The poem,
moreover, is pagan in conception, and so antedates the Christian
conversion. With regard to the actual authorship of the work there is
no evidence. It is very likely that it is a collection of the tales
sung by the bards, strung together by one hand, and written in the West
Saxon dialect.

=2. The Story.= There are so many episodes, digressions, and
reversions in the story of _Beowulf_ that it is almost impossible
to set it down as a detailed consecutive narrative. Putting it in its
very briefest form, we may say that Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, and
king of the Geatas, sails to Denmark with a band of heroes, and rids
the Danish King Hrothgar of a horrible mere-monster called Grendel.
The mother of Grendel meets with the same fate, and Beowulf, having
been duly feasted and rewarded, returns to his native land. After a
prosperous reign of forty years Beowulf slays the dragon that ravishes
his land, but himself receives a mortal wound. The poem concludes with
the funeral of the old hero.

=3. The Style.= We give a short extract, along with a literal
translation, to illustrate the style. The short lines of the poem are
really half-lines, and in most editions they are printed in pairs
across the page. The extract deals with Beowulf’s funeral rites:

Him ðá ge-giredan For him then did the people of the
Geáta leóde Geáts prepare
Âd on eorðan Upon the earth
Un-wác-lícne A funeral pile, strong,
Helm-be-hongen Hung round with helmets,
Hilde-bordū With war-boards and
Beorhtū byrnū Bright byrnies[1]
Swá he béna wæs As he had requested.
Ā-legdon ðá to-middes Weeping the heroes
Máerne þeóden Then laid down
Hæleð hiófende In the midst
Hláf-ord leófne Their dear lord;
On-gunnon ðá on beorge Then began the warriors
Bæl-fýra mæst To wake upon the hill
Wigend weccan The mightiest of bale-fires;
Wu [du-r] êc á-stáh The wood smoke rose aloft,
Sweart of swicðole Dark from the wood-devourer;[2]
Swógende let Noisily it went, mingled
[Wópe] be-wunden With weeping; the mixture
Wind-blond ğ-læg Of the wind lay on it
Oð that he tha bàn-hús Till it the bone-house
Ge-brocen hæfd[e] Had broken,
Hat on hreðre Hot in his breast:
Higū un-róte Sad in mind,
Mód-ceare mændon Sorry of mood they moaned
Mod-dryhtnes [cwealm]. The death of their lord.

It will be observed that the language is abruptly and rudely phrased.
The half-lines very frequently consist of mere tags or, as they are
called, _kennings_. Such conventional phrases were the stock-in-trade
of the gleemen, and they were employed to keep the narrative in some
kind of motion while the invention of the minstrel flagged. At least
half of the lines in the extract are kennings--_beorhtū byrnū_,
_hláf-ord leófne_, _higū un-róte_, and so on. Such phrases occur again
and again in Old English poetry. It will also be observed that the
lines are strongly rhythmical, but not metrical; and that there is a
system of alliteration, consisting as a rule of two alliterated sounds
in the first half-line and one in the second half-line.

With regard to the general narrative style of the poem, there is
much primitive vigor in the fighting, sailing, and feasting; a deep
appreciation of the terrors of the sea and of other elemental forces;
and a fair amount of rather tedious repetition and digression.
_Beowulf_, in short, may be justly regarded as the expression of a
hardy, primitive, seafaring folk, reflecting their limitations as well
as their virtues.

OTHER POETRY

=1. The Pagan Poems.= The bulk of Old English poetry is of a religious
cast, but a few pieces are distinctly secular.

(_a_) =Widsith= (_i.e._, “the far traveler”) is usually considered to
be the oldest poem in the language. It consists of more than a hundred
lines of verse, in which a traveler, real or imaginary, recounts the
places and persons he has visited. Since he mentions several historical
personages, the poem is of much interest, but as pure poetry it has
little merit.

(_b_) =Waldhere= (or _Walter_) consists of two fragments, sixty-eight
lines in all, giving some of the exploits of a famous Burgundian hero.
There is much real vigor in the poem, which ranks high among its
fellows.

(_c_) =The Fight at Finnesburgh=, a fragment of fifty lines, contains a
finely told description of the fighting at Finnesburgh.

(_d_) =The Battle of Brunanburgh= is a spirited piece on this famous
fight, which took place in 937. The poem has much more spirit and
originality than usual, contains some fine descriptions, and forces the
narrative along at a comparatively fast pace.

(_e_) =The Battle of Maldon= is a fragment, but of uncommon freshness
and vivacity. The battle occurred in 993, and the poem seems to be
contemporary with the event.

=2. The Dramatic Monologues.= These poems, which are called _The
Wanderer_, _The Seafarer_, _Deor’s Complaint_, _The Wife’s Complaint_,
_The Husband’s Message_, and _Wulf and Eadwacer_, appear in the Exeter
Book. It is unlikely that they were composed at the same time, but they
are alike in a curious meditative pathos. In Old English literature
they come nearest to the lyric. As poetry, they possess the merit of
being both original and personal, qualities not common in the poems of
the period.

=3. The Cædmon Group.= In his _Historia Ecclesiastica_ Bede tells the
story of a herdsman Cædmon, who by divine inspiration was transformed
from a state of tongue-tied ineffectiveness into that of poetical
ecstasy. He was summoned into the presence of Hilda of Whitby, who was
abbess during the years 658–80. He was created a monk, and thereafter
sang of many Biblical events. On a blank page of one of the Bede
manuscripts there is quoted the first divinely inspired hymn of Cædmon,
a rude and distinctly uninspired fragment of poetry, nine lines in all,
composed in the ancient Northumbrian dialect.

That is all we know of the life and works of Cædmon; but in the Junian
manuscript a series of religious paraphrases was unearthed in the year
1651. In subject they corresponded rather closely to the list set out
by Bede, and in a short time they were ascribed to Cædmon. The poems
consist of paraphrases of Genesis, Exodus, and Daniel and three shorter
poems, the chief of which is the _Harrowing of Hell_. Modern
scholarship now recognizes that the poems are by different hands, but
the works can be conveniently lumped together under the name of the
shadowy Northumbrian. The poems appear in the West Saxon dialect, in
spite of the fact that Cædmon must have written in his own dialect; but
the difficulty is overcome by pointing out that a West Saxon scribe
might have copied the poems.

In merit the poems are unequal. At their best they are not sublime
poetry, but they are strong and spirited pieces with some aptitude in
description. On the average they are trudging mediocrities which are
frequently prosaic and dull.

=4. The Cynewulf Group.= In 1840 the scholar Kemble lighted upon three
runic (or pre-Roman) signatures which appeared respectively in the
course of the poems called _Christ_ and _Juliana_ (in the Exeter Book)
and _Elene_ (in the Vercelli Book). The signatures read “Cynewulf” or
“Cynwulf.” In 1888 a signature “Fwulcyn” was discovered in _The Fates
of the Apostles_. This is all we know of Cynewulf, if we accept the
quite general personalities that appear in the course of the poems.
Yet an elaborate life has been built up for the poet, and other poems,
similar in style to the signed pieces, have been attributed to him.
_The Phœnix_, _The Dream of the Rood_, and the _Riddles_ of the Exeter
Book are the most considerable of the additional poems.

The Cynewulfian poems are much more scholarly compositions than the
_Beowulf_ or even the Cædmon poems. There is a greater power
of expression, less reliance on the feeble kenning, and some real
expertness in description. The ideas expressed in the poems are broader
and deeper, and a certain lyrical fervor is not wanting. The date is
probably the tenth century.

PROSE

=1. Alfred (848–900).= Though there were some prose writings
of an official nature (such as the laws of Ine, who died about 730)
before the time of Alfred, there can be little objection to the claim
frequently made for him, that he is “the father of English prose.” As
he tells us himself in his preface to the _Pastoral Care_, he was
driven into authorship by the lamentable state of English learning,
due in large measure to the depredations of the Danes. Even the
knowledge of Latin was evaporating, so the King, in order to preserve
some show of learning among the clergy, was compelled to translate
some popular monastic handbooks into his own tongue. These works
are his contribution to our literature. As he says, they were often
“interpreted word for word, and meaning for meaning”; but they are made
much more valuable by reason of the original passages freely introduced
into them. The books, four in number, are an able selection from the
popular treatises of the day: the _Universal History_ of Orosius;
the _Ecclesiastical History_ of Bede; the _Pastoral Care_ of
Pope Gregory; and the _Consolation of Philosophy_ of Boëthius. His
claim to the translation of Bede is sometimes disputed; and there is a
fifth work, a _Handbook_ or commonplace book, which has been lost.
The chronological order of the translations cannot be determined, but
they were all written during the last years of the reign.

We add a brief extract to illustrate his prose style. It is not a
highly polished style; it is rather that of an earnest but somewhat
unpracticed writer. When it is simplest it is best; in its more
complicated passages it is confusing and involved. The vocabulary is
simple and unforced.

Swa clæne heo wæs oðfeallen So clean [completely] has
on Angelcynne [-þ] swiðe feawa ruin fallen on the English nation,
wæron be-heonan Humbre þe that very few were there
hira þe-nunge cuðon understanden this side the Humber that could
on Englisc, oððe furðon understand their service in
an ærend-ge-writ of Ledene English or declare forth an
on Englisc areccan; and ic Epistle [an errand-writing]
wene [-þ] naht monige be-geondan out of Latin into English; and
Humbre næron. Swa feawa I think that not many beyond
heora wæron [-þ] ic furbon anne Humber were there. So few
ænlepne ne mæg geþencan be-suðan such were there, that I cannot
Thamise þa þa ic to rice think of a single one to the
feng. Gode Ælmightigum sy south of the Thames when I began
þanc, [-þ] we nu ænigne an steal to reign. To God Almighty
habbað lareowa. For þam ic be thanks, that we now have
þe beode, [-þ] þu do swa ic gelyfe any to teach in stall [any
[-þ] þu wille. place]. Therefore I bid thee
that thou do as I believe that
thou wilt.
_Preface to “Pastoral Care”_

=2. Ælfric= (=955–1020=) is known as “the Grammarian.” Of his life
little is known. It is probable that he lived near Winchester, and
he was certainly the first abbot of Eynsham, near Oxford, in 1006. A
fair number of his works, both in Latin and English, have come down
to us. Of his English books, two series of homilies, adapted from the
Latin, seem to have been composed about the year 990. A third series of
homilies, called _The Lives of the Saints_, is dated approximately at
996. Several of his pastoral letters survive, as well as a translation
of Bede’s _De Temporibus_ and some English translations of Biblical
passages.

Ælfric’s style is interesting, for it is representative of the
scholarly prose of his time, a century after Alfred. It is flowing and
vigorous, showing an almost excessive use of alliteration. In many
cases it suggests a curious hybrid between the poetry and prose of the
period.

=3. Wulfstan= was Archbishop of York from 1003 till his death in 1023.
In his prose, which survives in more than fifty homilies and in
his famous _Letter to the English People_ (_Lupi Sermo ad Anglos_),
he shows the effects of “style” to a marked degree. His _Letter_ in
particular is a fervid epistle, detailing with considerable power and
fluency the dreadful plight of the English nation in the year 1014. The
alliteration and rhythm are exceedingly well marked, much more so than
in the case of Ælfric.

=4.= The =Anglo-Saxon Chronicle= was probably inspired by King Alfred,
who is said even to have dictated the entries dealing with his own
campaigns. The _Chronicle_ has come down to us in four versions, all of
which seem to have sprung from a common stock. The four versions are
preserved in seven manuscripts, of which the most notable are those
connected with Canterbury and Peterborough. From the period of the
English invasions till the year 892 the books are fairly in accord.
At the latter year they diverge. Each introduces its local events and
miscellaneous items of news, and they finish at different dates. The
last date of all is about the middle of the twelfth century.

The style of the _Chronicle_ varies greatly; it ranges from the baldest
notes and summaries to quite ambitious passages of narrative and
description. Of the latter class the well-known passage on the horrors
of Stephen’s reign is a worthy example. We give a brief extract, dated
1100, just at the close of the Old English period, which is a fair
average of the different methods:

On þisum geare aras seo ungeþwærnes In the year arose the discord
on Glæstinga byrig in Glastonbury betwixt the Abbot
betwyx þam abbode Ðurstane Thurstan and his monks.
and his munecan. Ærest hit First it came from the Abbot’s
com of þæs abbotes unwisdome unwisdom: In that he mis-bade
[-þ] he misbead his munecan on [ruled] his monks in many
fela thingan, and þa munecas things and the monks meant it
hit mændon lufelice to him and lovingly to him and bade him
beadon hine [-þ] he [`s]ceolde healdan that he should hold [treat]
hi rihtlice beon and lufian them rightly and love them and
hi, and hi woldon him beon they would be faithful to him
holde and gehyrsume. and hearsome [obedient].

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

From the time when it first appears till it is swamped by the
Norman Conquest Old English literature undergoes a quite noticeable
development. In the mass the advance appears to be considerable, but
when we reflect that it represents the growth of some five hundred
years, we see that the rate of progress is undoubtedly slow. We shall
take the poetical and prose forms separately.

=1. Poetry.= Poetry is much earlier in the field, and its development
is the greater. It begins with the rude forms of _Beowulf_ and
concludes with the more scholarly paraphrases of Cynewulf.

(_a_) The _epic_ in its untutored form exists in _Beowulf_. This poem
lacks the finer qualities of the epic: it is deficient in the strict
unity, the high dignity, and the broad motive of the great classical
epic; but a crude vigor and a certain rude majesty are not wanting.
It is no mean beginning for the English epic. The later poems of the
Cædmon and Cynewulf types are too discursive and didactic to be epics,
though in places they are like _The Battle of Maldon_ and _The Fight at
Finnesburgh_ in their narrative force.

(_b_) The _lyric_--that is, the short and passionate expression of a
personal feeling--hardly exists at all. The nearest approach to it lies
in the dramatic monologues, such as _Deor’s Complaint_. These poems
are too long and diffuse to be real lyrics, but they have some of the
expressive melancholy and personal emotion of the lyric.

=2. Prose.= The great bulk of Old English prose consists of
translation; and in its various shapes English prose adopts the methods
of its originals. We have many homilies, some history, and a few
pastoral letters, all based strictly upon Latin works. There are very
few passages of real originality, and they are short and disjointed.
Of historical writing we have the rudiments in the _Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle_. On the whole, the development is very small, for the prose
is bound by the curse of imitativeness.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE

=1. Poetry.= We have once more to distinguish between the earlier
_Beowulf_ stage and the later Cynewulf stage. In the earlier period
the style is more disjointed, abrupt, and digressive, and is weighted
down by the reliance upon the kenning. In the later stage there is
greater passion and insight, less reliance upon the stock phrases, and
a greater desire for stylistic effects.

=2. Prose.= In spite of its limited scope, Old English prose shows
quite an advance in style. The earlier style, represented by the prose
of Alfred, is rather halting and unformed, the sentences are loosely
knit, the vocabulary is meager, and there is an absence of the finer
qualities of rhythm and cadence. By the time of Wulfstan the prose
has gained in fluency. It is much more animated and confident, and it
freely employs alliteration and the commoner rhetorical figures.

But within this development both of prose and poetry there was
already the seed of decay. During the last century of the period the
poetical impulse was weakening; there is little verse after the time
of Cynewulf. The prose too was failing, and the language was showing
symptoms of weakness. The inflections were loosening even before the
Norman Conquest, and the Old English vocabulary was being subtly
Gallicized. The Norman Conquest was in time to put an abrupt finish to
a process already well advanced.

EXERCISES

1. Examine the style of the following poetical passages. Point out
examples of kennings, and mention the purposes they serve. Comment upon
the type of sentence, the use of alliteration, and the nature of the
vocabulary. Compare the style with that of the _Beowulf_ extract
given on page 4.

(1) Us is riht micel, For us it is much right
That we rodera weard, That we the Guardian of the skies,
Wereda wuldor-cining, The glory-King of hosts,
Wordum herigen With our words praise,
Modum lufien. In our minds love.
He is mægna sped, He is of power the essence,
Heofod ealra The head of all
Heah-gesceafta, Exalted creatures,
Fréa Ælmīhtig. The Lord Almighty.
Næs him fruma æfre To him has beginning never
Ór geworden Origin been,
Ne nu ende cymth Nor now cometh end
Écean drihtnes, To the eternal Lord,
Ac he bíth á ríce But he is ever powerful
Ofer heofen-stolas. Over the heavenly thrones.
CÆDMON.

(2) Nis tháer on thám lande There in that land is not
Láth geníthle, Harmful enmity,
Ne wop ne wracu, Nor wail nor vengeance,
Weá-tácen nán, Evil-token none,
Yldu ne yrmthu, Old age nor poverty,
Ne se enga death, Nor the narrow death,
Ne lífes lyre, Nor loss of life,
Ne láthes cyme, Nor coming of harm,
Ne syn ne sacu, Nor sin nor strife,
Ne sár-wracu, Nor sore revenge,
Ne wædle gewin, Nor toil of want,
Ne wélan ansýn, Nor desire of wealth,
Ne sorg ne sláep, Nor care nor sleep,
Ne swar leger, Nor sore sickness,
Ne winter-geweorp, Nor winter-dart,
Ne weder-gebregd Nor dread of tempest
Hreóh under heofonum. Rough under the heavens.
_The Phœnix._

2. Comment briefly upon the style of the following prose extract. How
does it compare with modern English prose?

Ðu bæde me Thou
for oft engliscera gewritena. hast oft entreated me for
And English Scripture, and
ic þe ne getiðode ealles swa I gave it thee not so soon,
timlice ær ðam þe þu mid but thou first with
weorcum þæs gewilnodest æt me deeds hast importuned me
thereto;
þa ða þu me bæde for Godes lufon at what time thou didst so
earnestly
georne [-þ] ic þe æt ham æt þinum pray me for God’s love that I
should
huse gespræce. And pu ða swiðe speak to thee at thy house at
home,
mændest þa þa ic mid þe wæs and when I was with thee great
[-þ] þu mine gewrita begitan ne moan thou madest that thou
couldst
mihtest. Nu wille ic [-þ] þu hæbbe get none of my writings. Now
will
huru þis litle nu ðe wisdom I that thou have at least this
little,
gelicað. And pu hine habban wilt sith knowledge is so acceptable
unto
[-þ] þu ealles ne beo minra boca thee: and thou wilt have it
rather
bedæled. God luvað pa godan weorce than be altogether without my
and he wyle big habban æt us. books. God loveth good deeds
and
will have them at our hands
[of us].
ÆLFRIC, _Introduction to the Old Testament_

3. What appears to you to be the reasons why in Old English poetry
appears before prose?

4. Mention some of the effects of translation upon both the poetry and
the prose of the Old English.

5. “Old English prose is much nearer modern English prose than Old
English poetry is to modern English poetry.” Discuss this statement.

CHAPTER II

THE MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND (1050–1350)

The extensive period covered by this chapter saw many developments
in the history of England: the establishment of Norman and Angevin
dynasties; the class-struggle between king, nobles, clergy, and people;
and the numerous wars against France, Scotland, and Wales. But, from
the literary point of view, much more important than definite events
were the general movements of the times: the rise of the religious
orders, their early enthusiasm, and their subsequent decay; the
blossoming of chivalry and the spirit of romance, bringing new sympathy
for the poor and for womankind; the Crusades, and the widening of the
European outlook which was gradually to expand into the rebirth of the
intellect known as the Renaissance. All these were only symptoms of a
growing intelligence that was strongly reflected in the literature of
the time.

STATE OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE

This period witnesses the disappearance of the pure Old English
language and the emergence of the mixed Anglo-French or Middle English
speech that was to be the parent of modern English. As a written
language Old English disappears about 1050, and, also as a written
language, Middle English first appears about the year 1200. With the
appearance of the _Brut_ about 1200 we have the beginning of
the numerous Middle English texts, amply illustrating the changes
that have been wrought in the interval: the loss of a great part of
the Old English vocabulary; a great and growing inrush of French
words; the confusion, crumbling, and ultimate loss of most of the old
inflections; and the development of the dialects. There are three main
dialects in Middle English: the Northern, corresponding to the older
Northumbrian; the Midland, corresponding to Mercian; and the Southern,
corresponding to the Old English Kentish or Southern. None of the three
can claim the superiority until late in the period, when the Midland
gradually assumes a slight predominance that is strongly accentuated in
the period following.

LITERARY FEATURES OF THE AGE

The latter part of the three hundred years now under review provides a
large amount of interesting, important, and sometimes delightful works.
It is, however, the general features that count for most, for there is
hardly anything of outstanding individual importance.

=1. The Transition.= The period is one of transition and experiment.
The old poetical methods are vanishing, and the poets are groping after
a new system. English poets had two models to follow--the French and
the Latin, which were not entirely independent of each other. For a
time, early in the period, the French and Latin methods weighed heavily
upon English literature; but gradually the more typically native
features, such as the systematic use of alliteration, emerge. It is
likely that all the while oral tradition had preserved the ancient
methods in popular songs, but that influence was slight for a long
period after the Norman Conquest.

=2.= The =anonymous= nature of the writing is still strongly in
evidence. A large proportion of the works are entirely without known
authors; most of the authors whose names appear are names only;
there is indeed only one, the Hermit of Hampole, about whom we have
any definite biographical detail. There is an entire absence of any
outstanding literary personality.

=3. The Domination of Poetry.= The great bulk of the surviving material
is poetry, which is used for many kinds of miscellaneous work, such as
history, geography, divinity, and rudimentary science. Most of the
work is monastic hack-work, and much of it is in consequence of little
merit.

Compared with poetry of the period, the prose is meager in quantity
and undeveloped in style. The common medium of the time was Latin and
French, and English prose was starved. Nearly all the prose consists of
homilies, of the nature of the _Ancren Riwle_; and most of them
are servile translations from Latin, and destitute of individual style.

POETRY

For the sake of convenience we can classify the different poems into
three groups, according to the nature of their subjects.

=1. The Rhyming Chronicles.= During this period there is an unusual
abundance of chronicles in verse. They are distinguished by their
ingenuous use of incredible stories, the copiousness of their
invention, and in no small number of cases by the vivacity of their
style.

(_a_) _The Brut._ This poem was written by a certain =Layamon=
about the year 1205. We gather a few details about the author in a
brief prologue to the poem itself. He seems to have been a monk in
Gloucestershire; his language certainly is of a nature that corresponds
closely to the dialect of that district. The work, thirty thousand
lines in length, is a paraphrase and expansion of the Anglo-Norman
_Brut d’Angleterre_ of Wace, who in turn simply translated from
Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Latin history of Britain. In the _Brut_ the
founder of the British race is Brutus, great-grandson of Æneas of Troy.
Brutus lands in England, founds London, and becomes the progenitor
of the earliest line of British kings. In style the poem is often
lifeless, though it has a naïve simplicity that is attractive. The form
of the work, however, is invaluable as marking the transition from the
Old English to the Middle English method.

Alliteration, the basis of the earlier types, survives in a casual
manner; at irregular intervals there are rudely rhyming couplets,
suggesting the newer methods; the lines themselves, though they are of
fairly uniform length, can rarely be scanned; the basis of the line
seems to be four accents, occurring with fair regularity. The following
extract should be scrutinized carefully to bring out these features:

To niht a mine slepe, At night in my slepe
Their ich læi on bure, Where I lay in bower [chamber]
Me imæette a sweuen; I dreamt a dream--
Ther oure ich full sari æm. Therefore I full sorry am.
Me imætte that mon me hof I dreamt that men lifted me
Uppen are halle. Up on a hall;
Tha halle ich gon bestriden, The hall I gan bestride,
Swulc ich wolde riden As if I would ride;
Alle tha lond tha ich ah All the lands that I owned,
Alle ich ther ouer sah. All I there overlooked.
And Walwain sat biuoren me; And Walwain sate before me;
Mi sweord he bar an honde. My sword he bare in hand.
Tha com Moddred faren ther Then approached Modred there,
Mid unimete uolke. With innumerable folk.

(_b_) =Robert of Gloucester= is known only through his rhyming history.
From internal evidence it is considered likely that he wrote about
1300. From his dialect, and from local details that he introduces into
the poem, it is probable that he belonged to Gloucestershire. Drawing
largely upon Layamon, Geoffrey of Monmouth, and other chroniclers, he
begins his history of England with Brutus and carries it down to the
year 1270. The style of the poem is often lively enough; and the meter,
though rough and irregular, often suggests the later “fourteener.” As a
rule the lines are longer than those of the _Brut_, and the number of
accents is greater.

(_c_) =Robert Manning (1264–1340)= is sometimes known as Robert of
Brunne, or Bourne, in Lincolnshire. In 1288 he entered a Gilbertine
monastery near his native town. His _Story of Ingelond_ (1338) begins
with the Deluge, and traces the descent of the English kings back to
Noah. The latter portion of the book is based upon the work of Pierre
de Langtoft, and the first part upon Wace’s _Brut_. The meter is a kind
of chaotic alexandrine verse; but an interesting feature is that the
couplet rhymes are carefully executed, with the addition of occasional
middle rhymes.

Manning’s _Handlyng Synne_ (1303) is a religious manual based on
a French work, _Manuel des Pechiez_. The poem, which is thirteen
thousand lines in length, is a series of metrical sermons on the Ten
Commandments, the Seven Deadly Sins, and the Seven Sacraments. The
author knows how to enliven the work with agreeable anecdotes, and
there are signs of a keen observation. The meter is an approximation to
the octosyllabic couplet.

Manning’s language is of importance because it marks a close approach
to that of Chaucer: a comparative absence of old words and inflections,
a copious use of the later French terms, and the adoption of new
phrases.

(_d_) =Laurence Minot=, who probably flourished about 1350, appears
as the author of eleven political songs, which were first published
in 1795. The pieces, which sing of the exploits of Edward III, are
violently patriotic in temper, and have a rudely poetical vigor. Their
meters are often highly developed.

=2. Religious and Didactic Poetry.= Like most of the other poetry of
the period, this kind was strongly imitative, piously credulous, and
enormous in length.

(_a_) The _Ormulum_, by a certain =Orm=, or =Ormin=, is usually dated
at 1200. As it survives it is an enormous fragment, twenty thousand
lines in length, and composed in the East Midland dialect. It consists
of a large number of religious homilies addressed to a person called
Walter. Of poetical merit the poem is destitute; but it is unique
in the immense care shown over a curious and complicated system of
spelling, into which we have not the space to enter. Its metrical
form is noteworthy: a rigidly iambic measure, rhymeless, arranged
in alternate lines of eight and seven syllables respectively. This
regularity of meter is another unique feature of the poem, which we
illustrate by an extract:

An Romanisshe Kaserrking A Roman Kaiser-king
Wass Augusstuss [gh]ehatenn Was called Augustus
And he wass wurrthenn Kaserrking And he became Kaiser-king
Off all mannkinn onn eorthe, Of all mankind on earth,
And he gann thenkenn off himmsellf And he gan think of himself
And off hiss micle riche. And of his muckle kingdom,
And he bigann to thenkenn tha, And he began to think
Swa summ the goddspell kithethth Just as the gospel tells
Off thatt he wollde witenn wel Of what he would well know
Hu mikell fehh himm come, How much money [fee] would
come to him
[GH]iff himm off all hiss kinedom. If to him of all his kingdom
Illc mann an penning [gh]æfe. Each man a penny gave.

(_b_) _The Owl and the Nightingale_, the date of which is commonly
given as 1250, is attributed to =Nicholas of Guildford=. The poem
consists of a long argument between the nightingale, representing
the lighter joys of life, and the owl, which stands for wisdom and
sobriety. The poem is among the most lively of its kind, and the
argument tends to become heated. In meter it is rhyming octosyllabic
couplets, much more regular than was common at the time.

(_c_) The _Orison to Our Lady_, _Genesis_ and _Exodus_, the _Bestiary_,
the _Moral Ode_, the _Proverbs of Alfred_, and the _Proverbs of
Hendyng_ are usually placed about the middle of the thirteenth century.
Of originality there is little to comment upon; but as metrical
experiments they are of great importance. The _Proverbs_ show some
regular stanza-formation, and the _Moral Ode_ is remarkable for the
steadiness and maturity of its measure, a long line coming very close
to the fourteener.

(_d_) The _Cursor Mundi_ was composed about 1320. It is a kind of
religious epic, twenty-four thousand lines long, composed in the
Northern dialect. The author, who divides his history into seven
stages, draws upon both the Old and the New Testaments. The meter shows
a distinct advance in its grip of the octosyllabic couplet.

(_e_) =Richard Rolle of Hampole=, who died in 1349, is one of the few
contemporary figures about whom definite personal facts are recorded.
He was born in Yorkshire, educated at Oxford, and ran away from home to
become a hermit. Subsequently he removed to Hampole, near Doncaster,
where he enjoyed a great reputation for sanctity and good works.

He wrote some miscellaneous prose and a few short poems, but his chief
importance lies in his authorship of the long poem _The Pricke of
Conscience_. This work, which is based upon the writings of the
early Christian Fathers, describes the joys and sorrows of a man’s
life as he is affected in turn by good and evil. The meter is a close
approximation to the octosyllabic couplet, which shows extensions
and variations that often resemble the heroic measure. It has been
suggested that Hampole is the first English writer to use the heroic
couplet; but it is almost certain that his heroic couplets are
accidental.

(_f_) _The Alliterative Poems._ In a unique manuscript, now preserved
in the British Museum, are found four remarkably fine poems in the West
Midland dialect: _Pearl_, _Cleannesse_, _Patience_, and _Sir Gawain
and the Green Knight_. There is no indication of the authorship, but
judging from the similarity of the style it is considered likely that
they are by the same poet. The date is about 1300. The first three
poems are religious in theme, and of them _Pearl_ is undoubtedly the
best. This poem, half allegorical in nature, tells of a vision in which
the poet seeks his precious pearl that has slipped away from him. In
his quest he spies his pearl, which seems to be the symbol of a dead
maiden, and obtains a glimpse of the Eternal Jerusalem. The poem,
which contains long discussions between the poet and the pearl, has
some passages of real, moving beauty, and there is a sweet melancholy
inflection in some of the verses that is rare indeed among the fumbling
poetasters of the time. The meter is extraordinarily complicated:
heavily alliterated twelve-lined stanzas, with intricate rhymes
arranged on a triple basis (see p. 149). _Cleannesse_ and _Patience_,
more didactic in theme, are of less interest and beauty, but they have
an exultation and stern energy that make them conspicuous among the
poems of the period. They are composed in a kind of alliterative blank
verse. _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_ is one of the most captivating
of the romances. Its meter also is freely alliterated and built into
irregular rhyming stanzas which sometimes run into twenty lines.

=3. The Metrical Romances.= The great number of the romances that
now appear in our literature can be classified according to subject.

(_a_) The romances dealing with early English history and its heroes
were very numerous. Of these the lively _Horn_ and _Havelock the Dane_
and the popular _Guy of Warwick_ and _Bevis of Hampton_ were among the
best. Even contemporary history was sometimes drawn upon, as in the
well-known _Richard Cœur-de-Lion_.

(_b_) Allied to the last group are the immense number of Arthurian
romances, which are closely related and often of high merit. _Sir
Tristrem_, one of the earliest, is by no means one of the worst; to
it we may add the famous _Arthur and Merlin_, _Ywain and Gawain_, the
_Morte d’Arthure_, and _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_.

(_c_) There was also a large number of classical themes, such as
the exploits of Alexander the Great and the siege of Troy. _King
Alisaunder_ is very long, but of more than average merit. Further
examples are _Sir Orpheo_ and _The Destruction of Troy_.

(_d_) The group dealing with the feats of Charlemagne is smaller, and
the quality is lower. _Rauf Coilyear_, an alliterative romance, is
probably the best of them, and to it we may add _Sir Ferumbras_.

(_e_) A large number of the romances deal with events which are to
some extent contemporary with the composition. They are miscellaneous
in subject, but they are of much interest and some of them of great
beauty. _Amis and Amiloun_ is a touching love-story; _William of
Palerne_ is on the familiar “missing heir” theme; and _The Squire
of Low Degree_, who loved the king’s daughter of Hungary, is among
the best known of all the romances.

It would take a volume to comment in detail upon the romances. The
variety of their meter and style is very great; but in general terms we
may say that the prevailing subject is of a martial and amatory nature;
there is the additional interest of the supernatural, which enters
freely into the story; and one of the most attractive features to the
modern reader of this delightful class of fiction is the frequent
glimpses obtainable into the habits of the time.

PROSE

=1.= The =Ancren Riwle=, or _Rule of Anchoresses_, is one of the
earliest of Middle English prose texts, for it dates from about 1200.
The book, which is written in a simple, matter-of-fact style, is a
manual composed for the guidance of a small religious community of
women which then existed in Somersetshire. Nothing certain is known
regarding the author. Its Southern dialect shows some traces of
Midland. As in some respects the text is the forerunner of modern
prose, we give an extract:

Uorþi was ihoten a Godes Therefore it was ordered on
half iðen olde lawe þet put the part of God in the old law
were euer iwrien; & [gh]if eni that a pit should be ever
unwrie covered,
put were, & best feolle and if there were any uncovered
þerinne, he hit schulde [gh]elden pit, and a beast fell
þet þene put unwrieh. Ðis is a therein, he should pay for it,
swuðe dredlich word to wummen that uncovered the pit. This is
þet scheaweð her to wep-monnes a very dreadful saying for a
eien. Heo is bitocned woman that shows herself to a
bi þe þet unwrieð þene put: þe man’s eyes. She is betokened
put is hire veire neb, & hire by the person that uncovers the
hwite swire, & hire hond, [gh]if pit; the pit is her fair face,
hes and
halt forð in his eihsihðe. her white neck, and her hand, if
she holds it forth in his
eyesight.

=2.= The =Ayenbite of Inwyt= was written by Dan Michel of Northgate,
who flourished about 1340. The book is a servile translation of a
French work, and is of little literary importance. To the philologist
it is very useful as an example of the Southern dialect of the period.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

=1. Poetry.= (_a_) _Meter_. The most interesting feature of this
period is the development of the modern system of rhymed meters,
which displaced the Old English alliterative measures. Between the
Old English poems of Cynewulf (about 950) and the Middle English
_Brut_ (about 1205) there is a considerable gap both in time and in
development. This gap is only slightly bridged by the few pieces which
we proceed to quote.

A quatrain dated at about 1100 is as follows:

Merrie sungen the muneches binnen Ely,
Tha Cnut chining[3] reu[4] ther by;
“Roweth, cnichtes, noer the land,
And here we thes muneches sang.”

In this example we have two rough couplets. The first pair rhyme, and
in the second pair there is a fair example of assonance. The meter,
as far as it exists at all, is a cross between octosyllables and
decasyllables.

A few brief fragments by Godric, who died in 1170, carry the process
still further. The following lines may be taken as typical:

Sainte Nicholaes, Godes druth,
Tymbre[5] us faire scone[6] hus,
At thy burth,[7] at thy bare,[7]
Sainte Nicholaes, bring us wel thare.

These lines are almost regular, and the rhyme in the second couplet is
perfect.

The _Brut_, with its ragged four-accented and nearly rhymeless lines,
shows no further advance; but the _Ormulum_, though it does without
rhyme, is remarkable for the regularity of its meter. Then during
the thirteenth century there comes a large number of poems, chiefly
romances and homilies. Much of the verse, such as in _Horn_, _Havelock
the Dane_, and the works of Manning, is in couplet form. It is nearly
doggerel very often, and hesitates between four and five feet. This is
the rough work that Chaucer is to make perfect. The following example
of this traditional verse should be carefully scanned:

For Engelond ys ful ynow of fruyt and of tren,
Of wodes and of parkes, that joye yt ys to sen.
Of foules and of bestes of wylde and tame also.
Of salt fysch and eche fresch, and fayr ryueres ther to.
Of welles swete and colde ynow, of lesen and of mede.
Of seluer or and of gold, of tyn and of lede.
ROBERT OF GLOUCESTER

During the fourteenth century, with the increase of dexterity, came
the desire for experiment. Stanzas in the manner of the French were
developed, and the short or _bobbed_ line was introduced. The expansion
of the lyric helped the development of the stanza. Thus we pass through
the fairly elaborate meters of Minot, the _Proverbs of Hendyng_, and
the romances (like _The King of Tars_) in the Romance sestette, to the
extremely complicated verses of _Sir Tristrem_, _Sir Gawain and the
Green Knight_, and _Pearl_. We add a specimen of the popular Romance
sestette, and a verse from a popular song of the period.

(1) The King of Tars came also
The Soudan battle for to do,
With many a Christian Knight;
Either host gan the other assail,
There began a strong battail
That grisley was of sight.
_The King of Tars_

(2) Sitteth alle stille, ant herkneth to me:
The kyn of Alemaigne,[8] bi mi leaute[9]
Thritti thousent pound askede he
For te make the pees[10] in the countre
Ant so he dude more.
Richard, thah thou be euer trichard,[11]
Trichten shalt thou neuer more.

(_b_) _The Lyric._ The most delightful feature of the period is
the appearance of the lyric. There can be little doubt that from
Old English times popular songs were common, but it is not till
the thirteenth century that they receive a permanent place in the
manuscripts. We then obtain several specimens that for sweetness and
lyrical power are most satisfying.

Apart from its native element, the lyric of the time drew its
main inspiration from the songs of the French _jongleurs_ and the
magnificent, rhymed Latin hymns (such as _Dies Iræ_ and _Stabat Mater_)
of the Church. These hymns, nobly phrased and rhymed, were splendid
models to follow. Many of the early English lyrics were devoutly
religious in theme, especially those addressed to the Virgin Mary; a
large number, such as the charming _Alysoun_, are love-lyrics; and many
more, such as the cuckoo song quoted below (one of the oldest of all),
are nature-lyrics. In the song below note the regularity of the meter:

Sumer is i-cumen in, Summer is coming,
Lhude sing cuccu: Loud sing cuckoo:
Groweth sed, and bloweth med, Groweth seed and bloweth mead,
And springth the wde nu. And springeth the wood now.
Sing cuccu, cuccu. Sing cuckoo, cuckoo.

Awe bleteth after lombe, Ewe bleateth after lamb,
Lhouth after calue cu; Loweth after calf the cow;
Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth; Bullock starteth, buck verteth[12]
Murie sing cuccu, Merry sing cuckoo:
Cuccu, cuccu. Cuckoo, cuckoo.
Wel singes thu, cuccu; Well sing’st thou, cuckoo;
Ne swik thu nauer nu. Nor cease thou ever now.
Sing cuccu nu, Sing cuckoo now,
Sing, cuccu. Sing, cuckoo.

(_c_) _The Metrical Romances._ A romance was originally a composition
in the Romance tongue, but the meaning was narrowed into that of a tale
of the kind described in the next paragraph. Romances were brought into
England by the French minstrels, who as early as the eleventh century
had amassed a large quantity of material. By the beginning of the
fourteenth century the romance appears in English, and from that point
the rate of production is great. Romantic tales are the main feature of
the literature of the time.

TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

+----+---------------------------------+--------------------------+
| | POETRY | PROSE |
|YEAR+----------+-----------+----------+------------+-------------+
| | Lyrical | Narrative | Didactic | Narrative | Didactic |
+----+----------+-----------+----------+------------+-------------+
| | | _Beowulf_ | | | |
| | | | | | |
| 700| | Cædmon | | |
+----+----------+-----------+----------+------------+-------------+
| | | | | | |
| | | | | | |
| 800| | | | | |
+----+----------+-----------+----------+------------+-------------+
| | | | | | |
| | | | | | |
| 900| | | | | Alfred |
+----+----------+-----------+----------+------------+-------------+
| | | | | A.S. | |
| | | Cynewulf | CHRONICLE | |
|1000| | | | | Ælfric |
+----+----------+-----------+----------+------------+-------------+
| | | | | | Wulfstan |
| | | | | | |
|1100| | | | | |
+----+----------+-----------+----------+------------+-------------+
| | | | | | |
| | | |_Ormulum_ | | |
|1200| | | | | |
+----+----------+-----------+----------+------------+-------------+
| | | _Brut_ | | |_AncrenRiwle_|
| | | | | | |
|1300| | | Manning | | |
+----+----------+-----------+----------+------------+-------------+
| |_Alysoun_,| THE | Hampole | | |
| | etc. | ROMANCES | | | |
| | | | | | |
|1400| | _Cursor Mundi_ | | |
+----+----------+-----------+----------+------------+-------------+

The chief features of the romance were: a long story, cumulative
in construction, chiefly of a journey or a quest; a strong martial
element, with an infusion of the supernatural and wonderful;
characters, usually of high social rank, and of fixed type and
rudimentary workmanship, such as the knightly hero, the distressed
damsel, and the wicked enchanter; and a style that was simple to
quaintness, but in the better specimens was spirited and suggestive of
mystery and wonder. In meter it ranged from the simple couplet of _The
Squire of Low Degree_ to the twenty-lined stanza of _Sir Tristrem_. In
its later stages, as Chaucer satirized it in _Sir Thopas_, the romance
became extravagant and ridiculous, but at its best it was a rich
treasure-house of marvelous tales.

=2. Prose.= The small amount of prose is strictly practical in
purpose, and its development as a species of literature is to come
later.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF STYLE IN POETRY

With poetry in such an immature condition, it can be easily understood
that style is of secondary importance. The prevailing, almost the
universal, style is one of artless simplicity. Very often, owing
chiefly to lack of practice on the part of the poet, the style becomes
obscure; and when more ambitious schemes of meter are attempted (as
in _Pearl_) the same cause leads to the same result. Humor is rarely
found in Middle English, but quaint touches are not entirely lacking,
as facts revealed in the life of Hampole show. Pathos of a solemn and
elevated kind appears in the _Moral Ode_, and the romance called _The
Pistyl of Susan_ and the _Pearl_, already mentioned, have passages of
simple pathos.

EXERCISES

1. The following extracts show the development of English poetry from
Old English to Chaucerian times. Trace the changes in meter (scansion,
rhyme, and stanza-formation), alliteration, and style. Are there any
traces of refinements such as melody and vowel-music?

(1) Swá íú wætres thrym When of old the water’s mass
Ealne middan-geard, All mid-earth,
Mére-flód, theáhte When the sea-flood covered
Eorthan ymb-hwyrft, The earth’s circumference,
Thá [`s]e æthela wong Then that noble plain
Æg-hwæs án-súnd In everything entire
With yth-fare Against the billowy course
Gehealden stód, Stood preserved,
Hreóhra wæga Of the rough waves
Eádig unwemmed, Happy, inviolate,
Thurh áest Godes; Through favour of God.
Bídeth swá geblówen It shall abide thus in bloom,
Oth bæles cyme Until the coming of the funeral
fire
Dryhtnes dómes. Of the Lord’s judgment.
_The Phœnix_, 900

(2) And ich isæh thæ vthen And I saw the waves
I there sæ driuen; In the sea drive;
And the leo i than ulode And the lion in the flood
Iwende with me seolue. Went with myself.
Tha wit I sæ comen, When we two came in the sea,
Tha vthen me hire binomen. The waves took her from me;
Com ther an fisc lithe, But there came swimming a fish;
And fereden me to londe. And brought me to land.
Tha wes ich al wet, Then was I all wet
And weri of soryen, and seoc. And weary from sorrow, and sick.
Tha gon ich iwakien When I gan wake
Swithe ich gon to quakien. Greatly I gan quake.
LAYAMON, _Brut_, 1200

(3) Ich am eldre þan ich wes. a winter and ek on lore.
Ich welde more þan ich dude. my wyt auhte beo more.
Wel longe ich habbe child ibe[`s]. a werke and eke on dede.
Þah ich beo of wynter old. to yong ich am on rede.
Vnneð lif ich habbe ilad. and yet me þinkþ ich lede.
Hwenne ich me biþenche. ful sore ich me adrede.
Mest al þat ich habbe idon. is idelnesse and chilce.
Wel late ich habbe me bi-þouht. bute god do me mylce.
Veole idel word ich habbe ispeke. seoþþe ich speke cuþe.
And feole yonge deden ido. þat me of-þincheþ nuþe.
_Moral Ode_, 1250

(4) Herknet to me, gode men,
Wiues, maydnes, and alle men,
Of a tale that ich you wile telle
Wo so it wile here, and ther to duelle
The talk is of Hauelok i-maked;
Wil he was litel he yede ful naked;
Havelok was a ful god gome,
He was ful god in eueri trome,
He was the wicteste man at nede
That thurte riden on ani stede
That ye mouen nou y-here,
And the tale ye mowen y-lere.
At the beginning of vre tale
Fille me a cuppe of ful god ale.
_Havelock the Dane_, 1300

(5) Byteuene Mershe & Aueril
When spray biginneþ to springe,
Þe lutel foul haþ hire wyl
On hyre lud to synge;
Ich libbe in louelonginge
For semlokest[13] of alle þynge,
He may me blisse bringe,
Icham in hire baundoun.[14]
An hendy[15] hap[16] ichabbe yhent
Ichot[17] from heuene it is me sent
From alle wymmen mi loue is lent
& lyht on Alysoun.
_Alysoun_, 1300

(6) In Nauerne be [gh]unde the In Avergne beyond the sea
see
In Venyse a gode cyte, In Venice a good city
Duellyde a prest of Ynglonde, Dwelled a priest of England,
And was auaunsede, y And was advanced I understand.
understonde.
Every [gh]ere at the Every year at the flourishing
florysyngge
When the vynys shulde spryngge When the vines should spring
A tempest that tyme began to A tempest then began to fall
falle
And fordede here vynys alle; And ruined all their vines.
Every [gh]ere withouten fayle Every year without fail
And fordyde here grete trauayle. And ruined their great labour.
Therfor the folk were alle sory Therefore the folk were all
sorry
Thurghe the cyte comunly: Through the city commonly.
Thys prest seyde, y shal [gh]ou This priest said, “I shall you
telle tell
What shall best thys tempest What shall best this tempest
felle; fell;
On Satyrday shal [gh]e ryngge On Saturday shall ye ring noon
noun
And late ne longer ne werke be And let no longer work be
doun. done.”
_Handlyng Synne_, 1350

(7) Ther faure citees wern set, nov is a see called,
That ay is drouy[18] and dym and ded in hit kynde,
Blo[19] blubrande[20] and blak, vnblythe to ne[gh]e[21]
As a stynkande stanc that stryed[22] synne
That euer of synne and of smach,[23] smart is to fele;
Forthy the derk dede see hit is demed ever more,
For hit dede[gh] of dethe duren there [gh]et.
For hit is brod and bothemle[gh] and bitter as the galle,
And no[gh]t may lenge in that lake that any lyf bere[gh],
And all the coste[gh] of kynde hit combre[gh][24] vchone[25]
For lay ther-on a lump of led and hit on loft flete[gh],
And folde ther-on a ly[gh]t fyther and hit to founs synkke[gh],
And ther water may walter to wete any erthe,
Shal neuer grene ther-on growe, gresse ne wod nawther.
_Cleannesse_, 1350

2. Account for the poor quality of English prose during this period.

3. What were the effects of the Norman Conquest upon English literature?

4. Describe the main features of the romance.

CHAPTER III

THE AGE OF CHAUCER

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND (1350–1450)

Compared with the periods covered by the last two chapters, the period
now under review is quite short. It includes the greater part of the
reign of Edward III and the long French wars associated with his name;
the accession of his grandson Richard II (1377); and the revolution of
1399, the deposition of Richard, and the foundation of the Lancastrian
dynasty. From the literary point of view, of greater importance are the
social and intellectual movements of the period: the terrible plague
called the Black Death, bringing poverty, unrest, and revolt among the
peasants, and the growth of the spirit of inquiry, which was strongly
critical of the ways of the Church, and found expression in the
teachings of Wyclif and the Lollards, and in the stern denunciations of
Langland.

LITERARY FEATURES OF THE AGE

=1. The Standardizing of English.= The period of transition is now
nearly over. The English language has shaken down to a kind of
average--to the standard of the East Midland speech, the language of
the capital city and of the universities. The other dialects, with the
exception of the Scottish branch, rapidly melt away from literature,
till they become quite exiguous. French and English have amalgamated
to form the standard English tongue, which attains to its first full
expression in the works of Chaucer.

=2.= A curious =“modern” note= begins to be apparent at this period.
There is a sharper spirit of criticism, a more searching interest in
man’s affairs, and a less childlike faith in, and a less complacent
acceptance of, the established order. The vogue of the romance, though
it has by no means gone, is passing, and in Chaucer it is derided.
The freshness of the romantic ideal is being superseded by the more
acute spirit of the drama, which even at this early time is faintly
foreshadowed. Another more modern feature that at once strikes the
observer is that the age of anonymity is passing away. Though many of
the texts still lack named authors, the greater number of the books can
be definitely ascribed. Moreover, we have for the first time a figure
of outstanding literary importance, who gives to the age the form and
pressure of his genius.

=3. Prose.= This era sees the foundation of an English prose style.
Earlier specimens have been experimental or purely imitative; now, in
the works of Mandeville and Malory, we have prose that is both original
and individual. The English tongue is now ripe for a prose style. The
language is settling to a standard; Latin and French are losing grip
as popular prose mediums; and the growing desire for an English Bible
exercises a steady pressure in favor of a standard English prose.

=4. Scottish Literature.= For the first time in our literature, in the
person of Barbour (died 1395), Scotland supplies a writer worthy of
note. This is only the beginning; for the tradition is handed on to the
powerful group of poets who are mentioned in the next chapter.

GEOFFREY CHAUCER (1340–1400)

=1. His Life.= In many of the documents of the time Chaucer’s name
is mentioned with some frequency; and these references, in addition to
some remarks he makes regarding himself in the course of his poems,
are the sum of what we know about his life. The date of his birth is
uncertain, but it is now generally accepted as being 1340. He was born
in London, entered the household of the wife of the Duke of Clarence
(1357), and saw military service abroad, where he was captured. Next
he seems to have entered the royal household, for he is frequently
mentioned as the recipient of royal pensions and bounties. When
Richard II succeeded to the crown (1377) Chaucer was confirmed in his
offices and pensions, and shortly afterward (1378) he was sent to Italy
on one of his several diplomatic missions. More pecuniary blessings
followed; then ensued a period of depression, due probably to the
departure to Spain (1387) of his patron John of Gaunt; but his life
closed with a revival of his prosperity. He was the first poet to be
buried in what is now known as Poets’ Corner in Westminster Abbey.

=2. His Poems.= The order of Chaucer’s poems cannot be ascertained
with certitude, but from internal evidence they can as a rule be
approximately dated.

It is now customary to divide the Chaucerian poems into three stages:
the French, the Italian, and the English, of which the last is a
development of the first two.

(_a_) The poems of the earliest or French group are closely modeled
upon French originals, and the style is clumsy and immature. Of such
poems the longest is _The Romaunt of the Rose_, a lengthy allegorical
poem, written in octosyllabic couplets, and based upon Jean de Meung’s
_Le Roman de la Rose_. This poem, which, though it extends to eight
thousand lines, is only a fragment, was once entirely ascribed to
Chaucer, but recent research, based upon a scrutiny of Chaucerian
style, has decided that only the first part, amounting to seventeen
hundred lines, is his work. Other poems of this period include _The
Dethe of the Duchesse_, probably his earliest, and dated 1369, the date
of the Duchess’s death, _The Compleynte unto Pité_, _Chaucer’s ABC_,
_The Compleynte of Mars_, _The Compleynte of Faire Anelida_, and _The
Parlement of Foules_. Of these the last is the longest; it has a fine
opening, but, as so often happens at this time, the work diffuses into
long speeches and descriptions.

(_b_) The second or Italian stage shows a decided advance upon the
first. In the handling of the meters the technical ability is greater,
and there is a growing keenness of perception and a greater stretch
of originality. _Troilus and Cressida_ is a long poem adapted from
Boccaccio. By far the greater part of the poem is original, and the
rhyme royal stanzas, of much dexterity and beauty, abound in excellent
lines that often suggest the sonnets of Shakespeare. The poem suffers
from the prevailing diffuseness; but the pathos of the story is touched
upon with a passionate intensity.

“If no love is, O God, what fele I so?
And if love is, what thing and which is he?
If love be good, from whennes com’th my wo?
If it be wikke, a wonder thinketh me
When every torment and adversite
That com’th of him may to me savory thinke;
For ay thurste I the more that ich it drinke.

“And if that in myn owne lust I brenne,
From whennes com’th my wailing and my pleynte?
If harm agree me, wher-to pleyne I thenne?
I n’ot, ne why unwery that I fainte.
O quike deth! O swete harm so queynte!
How may of thee in me swich quantite,
But if I consente that it be?”

_The Hous of Fame_, a shorter poem in octosyllabic couplets, is of
the dream-allegory type, as most of Chaucer’s poems of this period
are; and it is of special importance because it shows gleams of the
genuine Chaucerian humor. In this group is also included _The Legende
of Good Women_, in which Chaucer, starting with the intention of
telling nineteen affecting tales of virtuous women of antiquity,
finishes with eight accomplished and the ninth only begun. After a
charming introduction on the daisy, there is some masterly narrative,
particularly in the portion dealing with Cleopatra. The meter is the
heroic couplet, with which Chaucer was to familiarize us in _The
Canterbury Tales_.

(_c_) The third or English group contains work of the greatest
individual accomplishment. The achievement of this period is _The
Canterbury Tales_, though one or two of the separate tales may be of
slightly earlier composition. For the general idea of the tales Chaucer
may be indebted to Boccaccio, but in nearly every important feature
the work is essentially English. For the purposes of his poem Chaucer
draws together twenty-nine pilgrims, including himself. They meet at
the Tabard Inn, in Southwark, in order to go on a pilgrimage to the
tomb of Thomas à Becket at Canterbury. The twenty-nine are carefully
chosen types, of both sexes, and of all ranks, from a knight to a
humble plowman; their occupations and personal peculiarities are many
and diverse; and, as they are depicted in the masterly _Prologue_ to
the main work, they are interesting, alive, and thoroughly human. At
the suggestion of the host of the Tabard, and to relieve the tedium of
the journey, each of the pilgrims is to tell two tales on the outward
journey, and two on the return. In its entirety the scheme would have
resulted in an immense collection of over a hundred tales. But as it
happens Chaucer finished only twenty, and left four partly complete.
The separate tales are linked with their individual prologues, and with
dialogues and scraps of narrative. Even in its incomplete state the
work is a small literature in itself, an almost unmeasured abundance
and variety of humor and pathos, of narrative and description, and of
dialogue and digression. There are two prose tales, Chaucer’s own _Tale
of Melibœus_ and _The Parson’s Tale_; and nearly all the others are
composed in a powerful and versatile species of the heroic couplet.

To this last stage of Chaucer’s work several short poems are ascribed,
including _The Lack of Stedfastness_ and the serio-comic _Compleynte of
Chaucer to his Purse_.

There is also mention of a few short early poems, such as _Origines
upon the Maudeleyne_, which have been lost.

During his lifetime Chaucer built up such a reputation as a poet that
many works were at a later date ascribed to him without sufficient
evidence. Of this group the best examples are _The Flower and the
Leaf_, quite an excellent example of the dream-allegory type, and _The
Court of Love_. It has now been settled that these poems are not truly
his.

=3. His Prose.= The two prose tales cannot be regarded as among
Chaucer’s successful efforts. Both of them--that is, _The Tale of
Melibœus_ and _The Parson’s Tale on Penitence_--are lifeless in style
and full of tedious moralizings. Compared with earlier prose works
they nevertheless mark an advance. They have a stronger grasp of
sentence-construction, and in vocabulary they are copious and accurate.
The other prose works of Chaucer are an early translation of Boëthius,
and a treatise, composed for the instruction of his little son Lewis,
on the astrolabe, then a popular astronomical instrument.

The following extract is a fair example of his prose:

“Now, sirs,” saith dame Prudence, “sith ye vouche saufe to be
gouerned by my counceyll, I will enforme yow how ye shal gouerne
yow in chesing of your counceyll. First tofore alle workes
ye shall beseche the hyghe God, that he be your counceyll;
and shape yow to suche entente that he yeue you counceyll and
comforte as Thobye taught his sone. ‘At alle tymes thou shall
plese and praye him to dresse thy weyes; and loke that alle thy
counceylls be in hym for euermore.’ Saynt James eke saith: ‘Yf
ony of yow haue nede of sapience, axe it of God.’ And after
that than shall ye take counceyll in yourself, and examyne well
your thoughtys of suche thynges as ye thynke that ben beste
for your profyt. And than shall ye dryue away from your hertes
the thynges that ben contraryous to good counceyl: this is to
saye--ire, couetyse, and hastynes.”
_The Tale of Melibœus_

=4. Features of his Poetry.= (_a_) The first thing that strikes the eye
is the _unique position_ that Chaucer’s work occupies in the literature
of the age. He is first, with no competitor for hundreds of years to
challenge his position. He is, moreover, the forerunner in the race of
great literary figures that henceforth, in fairly regular succession,
dominate the ages they live in.

(_b_) _His Observation._ Among Chaucer’s literary virtues his acute
faculty of observation is very prominent. He was a man of the world,
mixing freely with all types of mankind; and he used his opportunities
to observe the little peculiarities of human nature. He had the seeing
eye, the retentive memory, the judgment to select, and the capacity to
expound; hence the brilliance of his descriptions, which we shall note
in the next paragraph.

(_c_) _His Descriptions._ Success in descriptive passages depends on
vivacity and skill in presentation, as well as on the judgment shown in
the selection of details. Chaucer’s best descriptions, of men, manners,
and places, are of the first rank in their beauty, impressiveness, and
humor. Even when he follows the common example of the time, as when
giving details of conventional spring mornings and flowery gardens, he
has a vivacity that makes his poetry unique. Many poets before him had
described the break of day, but never with the real inspiration that
appears in the following lines:

The bisy larke, messager of day,
Salueth in her song the morwe gay,
And firy Phœbus riseth up so brighte
That all the orient laugheth with the lighte.
_The Knight’s Tale_

The _Prologue_ contains ample material to illustrate Chaucer’s power
in describing his fellow-men. We shall add an extract to show him
in another vein. Observe the selection of detail, the terseness and
adequacy of epithet, and the masterly handling of the couplet.

First on the wal was peynted a forest,
In which ther dwelleth neither man nor best,
With knotty, knarry, barreyne trees olde
Of stubbes sharpe and hidouse to biholde,
In which ther ran a rumbel and a swough,
As though a storm sholde bresten every bough;
And dounward from an hille, under a bente,
Ther stood the temple of Mars armypotente,
Wroght al of burned steel, of which the entree
Was long and streit, and gastly for to see.
The northern light in at the dores shoon,
For wyndowe on the wal ne was ther noon
Thurgh which men myghten any light discern,
The dores were al of adament eterne,
Y-clenched overthwart and endelong
With iren tough, and for to make it strong,
Every pyler, the temple to sustene,
Was tonne greet, of iren bright and shene.
_The Knight’s Tale_

(_d_) _His Humor and Pathos._ In the literature of his time, when so
few poets seem to have any perception of the fun in life, the humor of
Chaucer is invigorating and delightful. The humor, which steeps nearly
all his poetry, has great variety: kindly and patronizing, as in the
case of the Clerk of Oxenford; broad and semi-farcical, as in the Wife
of Bath; pointedly satirical, as in the Pardoner and the Summoner;
or coarse, as happens in the tales of the Miller, the Reeve, and the
Pardoner. It is seldom that the satirical intent is wholly lacking,
as it is in the case of the Good Parson, but, except in rare cases,
the satire is good-humored and well-meant. The prevailing feature
of Chaucer’s humor is its urbanity: the man of the world’s kindly
tolerance of the weaknesses of his erring fellow-mortals.

Chaucer lays less emphasis on pathos, but it is not overlooked. In
the poetry of Chaucer the sentiment is humane and unforced. We have
excellent examples of pathos in the tale of the Prioress and in _The
Legende of Good Women_.

We give a short extract from the long conversation between Chaucer and
the eagle (“with fethres all of gold”) which carried him off to the
House of Fame. The bird, with its cool acceptance of things, is an
appropriate symbol of Chaucer himself in his attitude toward the world.

Thus I longe in his clawes lay,
Til at the laste he to me spak
In mannes vois, and seyde, “Awak!
And be not so agast, for shame!”
And called me tho by my name.
And, for I sholde the bet abreyde--
Me mette--“Awak,” to me he seyde,
Right in the same vois and stevene
That useth oon I coude nevene;
And with that vois, soth for to sayn,
My minde cam to me agayn;
For hit was goodly seyd to me,
So nas hit never wont to be....
And sayde twyes “Seynte Marie!
Thou art noyous for to carie.”...
“O god,” thoughte I, “that madest kinde,
Shal I non other weyes dye?
Wher Ioves wol me stellifye,
Or what thing may this signifye?
I neither am Enok, nor Elye,
Ne Romulus, ne Ganymede
That was y-bore up, as men rede,
To hevene with dan Iupiter,
And maad the goddes boteler.”

(_e_) _His Narrative Power._ As a story-teller Chaucer employs somewhat
tortuous methods, but his narrative possesses a curious stealthy speed.
His stories, viewed strictly as stories, have most of the weaknesses of
his generation: a fondness for long speeches, for pedantic digressions
on such subjects as dreams and ethical problems, and for long
explanations when none are necessary. _Troilus and Cressida_, heavy
with long speeches, is an example of his prolixity, and _The Knight’s
Tale_, of baffling complexity and overabundant in detail, reveals
his haphazard and dawdling methods; yet both contain many admirable
narrative passages. But when he rises above the weaknesses common to
the time he is terse, direct, and vivacious. The extract given below
will illustrate the briskness with which his story can move.

This sely widwe, and eek hir doghtres two,
Herden thise hennes crie and maken wo,
And out at dores stirten they anon,
And syen the fox toward the grove gon,
And bar upon his bak the cok away,
And cryden, “Out! Harrow! And weylaway!
Ha! Ha! The Fox!” And after hym they ran,
And eek with staves many another man;
Ran Colle, oure dogge, and Talbot, and Gerland
And Malkyn, with a dystaf in hir hand;
Ran cow and calf, and eek the verray hogges,
So were they fered for berkynge of the dogges,
And shoutyng of the men and wommen eek;
They ronne so hem thoughte hir herte breek.
They yolleden, as feendes doon in helle;
The dokes cryden, as men wolde hem quelle;
The gees, for feere, flowen over the trees;
Out of the hyve cam the swarm of bees;
So hidous was the noys, _a benedicitee_!
Certes, he Jakke Straw, and his meynee,
Ne made never shoutes half so shrille,
Whan that they wolden any Flemyng kille,
As thilke day was maade upon the fox.
_The Nun’s Priest’s Tale_

(_f_) _His Metrical Skill._ In the matter of poetical technique English
literature owes much to Chaucer. He is not an innovator, for he employs
the meters in common use. In his hands, however, they take on new
powers. The octosyllabic and heroic couplets, which previously were
slack and inartistic measures, now acquire a new strength, suppleness,
and melody. Chaucer, who is no great lyrical poet, takes little
interest in the more complicated meters common in the lyric; but in
some of his shorter poems he shows a skill that is as good as the very
best apparent in the contemporary poems.

(_g_) _Summary._ We may summarize Chaucer’s achievement by saying that
he is the earliest of the great moderns. In comparison with the poets
of his own time, and with those of the succeeding century, the advance
he makes is almost startling. For example, Manning, Hampole, and the
romancers are of another age and of another way of thinking from ours;
but, apart from the superficial archaisms of spelling, the modern
reader finds in Chaucer something closely akin. All the Chaucerian
features help to create this modern atmosphere: the shrewd and placidly
humorous observation, the wide humanity, the quick aptness of phrase,
the dexterous touch upon the meter, and, above all, the fresh and
formative _spirit_--the genius turning dross into gold. Chaucer is
indeed a genius; he stands alone, and for nearly two hundred years none
dare claim equality with him.

OTHER POETS

=1. William Langland=, or =Langley (1332–1400)=, is one of the early
writers with whom modern research has dealt adversely. All we know
about him appears on the manuscripts of his poem, or is based upon the
remarks he makes regarding himself in the course of the poem. This
poem, the full title of which is _The Vision of William concerning
Piers the Plowman_, appears in its many manuscripts in three forms,
called respectively the A, B, and C texts. The A text is the shortest,
being about 2500 lines long; the B is more than 7200 lines; and the
C, which is clearly based upon B, is more than 7300 lines. Until
quite recently it has always been assumed that the three forms were
all the work of Langland; but the latest theory is that the A form is
the genuine composition of Langland, whereas both B and C have been
composed by a later and inferior poet.

From the personal passages in the poem it appears that the author was
born in Shropshire about 1332. The vision in which he saw Piers the
Plowman probably took place in 1362.

The poem itself tells of the poet’s vision on the Malvern Hills. In
this trance he beholds a fair “feld ful of folk.” The first vision,
by subtle and baffling changes, merges into a series of dissolving
scenes which deal with the adventures of allegorical beings, human like
Do-wel, Do-bet, and Do-betst, or of abstract significance like the Lady
Meed, Wit, Study, and Faith. During the many incidents of the poem the
virtuous powers generally suffer most, till the advent of Piers the
Plowman--the Messianic deliverer--restores the balance to the right
side. The underlying motive of the work is to expose the sloth and
vice of the Church, and to set on record the struggles and virtues of
common folks. Langland’s frequent sketches of homely life are done with
sympathy and knowledge, and often suggest the best scenes of Bunyan.

The style has a somber energy, an intense but crabbed seriousness,
and an austere simplicity of treatment. The form of the poem is
curious. It is a revival of the Old English rhymeless measure, having
alliteration as the basis of the line. The lines themselves are fairly
uniform in length, and there is the middle pause, with (as a rule) two
alliterations in the first half-line and one in the second. Yet in
spite of the Old English meter the vocabulary draws freely upon the
French, to an extent equal to that of Chaucer himself.

We quote the familiar opening lines of the poem. The reader should note
the strong rhythm of the lines--which in some cases almost amounts to
actual meter--the fairly regular system of alliteration, and the sober
undertone of resignation.

In a somer sesun, whan softe was the sonne,
I shope me into a shroud, a sheep as I were;
In habite of an hermite, unholy of werkes,
Wende I wyde in this world, wondres to here.
But in a Mayes morwnynge, on Malverne hulles,
Me bifel a ferly,[26] a feyric me thouhte;
I was wery of wandringe and wente me to reste
Under a brod banke, bi a bourne syde,
And as I lay and lened, and loked on the waters,
I slumberde on a slepyng; it sownede so murie.

=2. John Gower=, the date of whose birth is uncertain, died in 1408. He
was a man of means, and a member of a good Kentish family; he took a
fairly active part in the politics and literary activity of the time,
and was buried in London.

The three chief works of Gower are noteworthy, for they illustrate the
unstable state of contemporary English literature. His first poem,
_Speculum Meditantis_, is written in French, and for a long time was
lost, being discovered as late as 1895; the second, _Vox Clamantis_,
is composed in Latin; and the third, _Confessio Amantis_, is written
in English, at the King’s command according to Gower himself. In this
last poem we have the conventional allegorical setting, with the
disquisition of the seven deadly sins, illustrated by many anecdotes.
These anecdotes reveal Gower’s capacity as a story-teller. He has a
diffuse and watery style of narrative, but occasionally he is brisk and
competent. The meter is the octosyllabic couplet, of great smoothness
and fluency.

=3. John Barbour (1316–95)= is the first of the Scottish poets to
claim our attention. He was born in Aberdeenshire, and studied both
at Oxford and Paris. His great work is _The Brus_ (1375), a lengthy
poem of twenty books and thirteen thousand lines. The work is really
a history of Scotland from the death of Alexander III (1286) till the
death of Bruce and the burial of his heart (1332). The heroic theme is
the rise of Bruce, and the central incident of the poem is the battle
of Bannockburn. The poem, often rudely but pithily expressed, contains
much absurd legend and a good deal of inaccuracy, but it is no mean
beginning to the long series of Scottish heroic poems. The spirited
beginning is often quoted:

A! fredome is a nobill thing!
Fredome mayss man to haiif liking!
Fredome all solace to man giffis;
He levys at ess that frely levys!
A noble hart may haiff nane ess,
Na ellys nocht that may him pless,
Gyffe fredome failzhe: for fre liking
Is zharnyt[27] our all othir thing.
Na he, that ay hass levyt fre,
May nocht knaw weill the propyrte,
The angyr, na the wrechyt dome,
That is couplyt to foule thyrldome.

PROSE-WRITERS

=1. Sir John Mandeville= is the English form of the name of =Jehan
de Mandeville=, who compiled and published a French book of travels
between 1357 and 1371. This French work was very popular, and it was
translated into several languages, including English. The English
version has a preface, in which it is stated that the author was
a Sir John Mandeville, a knight, born at St. Albans, who crossed
the sea in 1322 and traveled in many strange regions. Much of the
personal narrative is invention; nowadays the very existence of Sir
John is denied. The real author of the book is said to be =Jehan de
Bourgogne=, who died at Liège in 1372.

It has now been demonstrated that the so-called “_Travels_” is
a compilation from several popular books of voyages, including those
of a Friar Odoric, of an Armenian called Hetoum, and (to a very small
extent) of the famous traveler Marco Polo. These, with a few grains of
original matter, are ingeniously welded into one of the most charming
books of its kind. The travels are full of incredible descriptions and
anecdotes, which are set down with delightful faith and eagerness. The
style is sweet and clear, with some colloquial touches; and the short
narrations freely dispersed through the text, tersely phrased and
accurately gauged in length, are rendered with great skill.

We add an example to illustrate this admirable prose style. Observe
the brief sentences, many of which begin with “and,” the simple but
effective diction, and the straightforward style of narrative.

And zee schull undirstonde that whan men comen to Jerusalem her
first pilgrymage is to the chirche of the Holy Sepulcr wher
oure Lord was buryed, that is withoute the cytee on the north
syde. But it is now enclosed in with the ton wall. And there is
a full fair chirche all rownd, and open above, and covered with
leed. And on the west syde is a fair tour and an high for belles
strongly made. And in the myddes of the chirche is a tabernacle
as it wer a lytyll hows, made with a low lityll dore; and that
tabernacle is made in maner of a half a compas right curiousely
and richely made of gold and azure and othere riche coloures,
full nobelyche made. And in the ryght side of that tabernacle
is the sepulcre of oure Lord. And the tabernacle is viij fote
long and v fote wide, and xj fote in heghte. And it is not longe
sithe the sepulcre was all open, that men myghte kisse it and
touche it. But for pilgrymes that comen thider peyned hem to
breke the ston in peces, or in poudr; therefore the Soudan[28]
hath do make a wall aboute the sepulcr that no man may towche
it. But in the left syde of the wall of the tabernacle is well
the heighte of a man, is a gret ston, to the quantytee of a
mannes bed, that was of the holy sepuler, and that ston kissen
the pilgrymes that comen thider. In that tabernacle ben no
wyndowes, but it is all made light with lampes that hangen befor
the sepulcr.

=2. John Wyclif=, or =Wycliffe (1320–84)=, was born in Yorkshire about
the year 1320. He was educated at Oxford, took holy orders, received
the living of Lutteworth in Leicestershire (1374), and took a prominent
part in the ecclesiastical feuds of the day. He was strong in his
denunciation of the abuses then rampant, and only the influence of
his powerful friends saved him from the fate of a heretic. He died
peacefully in 1384.

An active controversialist, he wrote many Latin books in support of his
revolutionary opinions. In addition, he issued a large number of tracts
and pamphlets in English, and carried through an English translation of
the Bible. His English style is not polished, but it is vigorous and
pointed, with a homely simplicity that makes its appeal both wide and
powerful.

=3. Sir Thomas Malory= may be included at this point, though his famous
work, the _Morte d’Arthur_, was composed as late as the “ix yere of
the reygne of Kyng Edward the furth” (1469). Nearly all we know about
Malory is contained in the preface of Caxton, the first printer of the
book. Caxton says that the book was written by Sir Thomas Malory “oute
of certeyn bookes of frensshe.”

Like the travels of Mandeville, the _Morte d’Arthur_ is a compilation.
In the case of Malory’s books, French Arthurian romances are drawn
upon to create a prose romance of great length and detail. However
diverse the sources are, the book is written with a uniform dignity and
fervor that express the very soul and essence of romance. The prose
style, never pretentious, is always equal to the demands put upon it,
and frequently it has that flash of phrase that is essential to the
creation of a literary style. Malory is, in short, our first individual
prose stylist.

And on the morn the damsel and he took their leave and thanked
the knight, and so departed, and rode on their way until they
came to a great forest. And there was a great river and but one
passage, and there were ready two knights on the further side
to let them the passage. “What sayest thou,” said the damsel,
“wilt thou match yonder knights, or turn again?” “Nay,” said
Sir Beaumains, “I will not turn again and they were six more.”
And therewithal he rushed into the water, and in the midst of
the water, either brake their spears upon other to their hands,
and then they drew their swords and smote eagerly at other. And
at the last Sir Beaumains smote the other upon the helm that
his head stonied, and therewithal he fell down in the water,
and there was he drowned. And then he spurred his horse upon
the land, where the other knight fell upon him and brake his
spear, and so they drew their swords and fought long together.
At the last Sir Beaumains clave his helm and his head down to
the shoulders: and so he rode unto the damsel, and bade her ride
forth on her way.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

The Chaucerian age saw a great and significant advance in poetical
forms of literature, and a noteworthy one in the domain of prose.

=1. Poetry.= With regard to poetry, we can observe the various forms
separating themselves and straightening out into form and coherence.

(_a_) The _lyric_, chiefly the religious and love-lyric, continues
to be written and developed. Chaucer himself contributes very little
toward it, but a number of anonymous bards add to the common stock.
It is seldom that we can give precise dates to the lyrics of this
period; but about this time were composed such exquisite pieces as _The
Nut-brown Maid_, a curious hybrid between the lyric and the ballad, and
the lovely carols of the Church.

(_b_) _The Rise of the Ballad._ The origin of the ballad has always
been a question in dispute. There is little doubt, however, that
ballads began to assume a position of importance at the end of the
fourteenth century.

The true ballad-form had several features to make it distinct from the
romance: it is commonly plebeian in origin and theme, thus contrasting
with the romance, which is aristocratic in these respects; it is short,
and treats of one incident, whereas the romance form is cumulative,
and can absorb any number of adventures; it is simple in style, and is
as a rule composed in the familiar ballad-stanza. Some of the fine
ballads belonging to this time are _Chevy Chace_, _Gil Morrice_, and
_Sir Patrick Spens_. Very old ballads, as can be seen in the case of
_Chevy Chace_, which exists in more than one version, have descended
to modern times in a much more polished condition than they were in at
first. In their earliest condition they were rude and almost illiterate
productions, the compositions of the popular minstrels.

(_c_) _The Rise of the Allegory._ This is perhaps the suitable place to
note the rise of allegory, which in the age of Chaucer began to affect
all the branches of poetry. Even at its best the allegorical method
is crude and artificial, but it is a concrete and effective literary
device for expounding moral and religious lessons. It appeals with the
greatest force to minds which are still unused to abstract thinking;
and about the period now under discussion it exactly suited the lay and
ecclesiastical mind. Hence we have a flood of poems dealing with Courts
of Love, Houses of Fame, Dances of the Seven Deadly Sins, and other
symbolical subjects. Especially in the earlier stages of his career,
Chaucer himself did not escape the prevailing habit. We shall see that
the craze for the allegory was to increase during the next century and
later, till it reached its climax in _The Faerie Queene_.

(_d_) _Descriptive and Narrative Poems._ In this form of poetry _The
Canterbury Tales_ is the outstanding example, but in many passages of
Langland and Gower we have specimens of the same class. We have already
mentioned some of the weaknesses that are common to the narrative
poetry of the day, and which were due partly to lack of practice and
partly to reliance upon inferior models: the tantalizing rigmaroles of
long speeches and irrelevant episodes, the habit of dragging into the
story scientific and religious discussions, and an imperfect sense of
proportion in the arrangement of the plot. In the best examples, such
as those of Chaucer, there is powerful grip upon the central interest,
a shrewd observation and humor, and quite often a brilliant rapidity of
narration.

(_e_) The _metrical romance_ is still a popular form, but the great
vogue of the last century is on the wane. Among the lower classes it
is being supplanted by the ballad; and the growing favor that is being
shown to the _fabliau_--that is, the short French tale, realistic in
subject and humorous-satirical in style--is leading to tales of the
coarser Chaucer type.

=2. Prose.= In prose we have the first English travel-book in
Mandeville’s _Travels_; one of the earliest translations of the Bible
in Wyclif’s; and, among others, a prose chronicle in the work of
=John of Trevisa (1326–1412)=, who issued a prose version of Higden’s
_Polychronicon_. As yet such works are in an undeveloped state, but
already some considerable growth is apparent. Prose is increasing both
in quantity and in quality, and the rate of increase is accelerating.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE

=1. Poetry.= We have already stated that the time of transition
and experiment is nearly over. English poetical style has established
itself, and the main lines of development have been laid down. For this
we are indebted almost entirely to Chaucer.

(_a_) With regard to _meter_, it is curious to observe that with
increasing practice the tendency is toward simplicity. The extremely
complicated stanzas are becoming less common, and rhyme royal and
other shorter verses are coming into favor. Along with simplification
is a greater suppleness and dexterity. There is less rigidity in the
position of the pause, and a greater freedom in the substitution of
three-syllabled feet for two-syllabled feet. These features are most
strongly developed in the couplet forms. It is this union of simplicity
and freedom that is to remain the dominating characteristic of English
verse, thus contrasting with the quantitative system of the classical
measures and the syllabic nature of the French.

(_b_) There is an interesting _revival in alliteration_. In the true
alliterative poem the basis of the line is a system of repeating
sounds, such as was the custom in Old English verse. One of the
earliest examples of this type which occurs after the Norman Conquest
is _Wynnere and Wastour_ (1352), an anonymous poem of no great merit.
The tradition is continued in the alliterative romances of the type
of _Cleannesse_; and it attains its climax in _Piers Plowman_. Though
this last poem gained a great popularity it left no important literary
descendants. Hence the revival of the ancient system of alliteration
remains as an interesting curiosity. In a very short time after
Langland, alliteration becomes simply an ornament to meter--sometimes a
device of great beauty, but not vital to the metrical scheme.

As regards the actual _poetic diction_ of the period, there is a
considerable liking shown for ornate French and classical terms. This
can be observed in the earlier poems of Chaucer and in the _Confessio
Amantis_ of Gower. We have not yet attained to the aureate diction
of the succeeding generation, but the temptation to use French terms
was too strong to be resisted. Langland, though he draws upon the
French Element, writes with much greater simplicity; and the ballads
also are composed in a manner quite plain and unadorned.

=2. Prose.= The state of prose is still too immature to allow of
any style beyond the plainest. Wyclif’s, the earliest of the period,
is unpolished, though it can be pointed and vigorous. Mandeville’s
prose style, though it is devoid of artifices, attains to a certain
distinction by reason of its straightforward methods, its short and
workmanlike sentences, and a brevity rare in his day. In the case
of Malory, who comes some time after the others, we have quite an
individual style. It is still unadorned; but it has a distinction of
phrase and a decided romantic flavor that make Malory a prose stylist
of a high class. His prose is, indeed, a distinct advance upon that of
his predecessors.

EXERCISES

1. The following series of extracts is intended to show the development
of English prose style from Old English times to those of Malory.
The student should write a brief commentary upon the development of
the prose, paying attention to vocabulary, sentence-construction,
clearness, and brevity.

(1) Ða ic ða ðis eall gemunde, When I recollected all this, I
ða wundrade ic swiðe wondered very much that of all
swiðe ðara godena wiotona ðe the scholars that long were
giu wæron giond Angelcynn, throughout England and had
ond ða bec ealla be fullan learnt all the books in full,
geliornod
hæfdon, ðæt hie hiora none at all wished to turn them
ða nænne dæl noldon on hiera into their own tongue. But in
agen geðiode wendan. Ac ic a short space I answered myself,
ða sona eft me selfum saying: “They did not
andwyrde,
ond cwæþ: “Hie ne believe that men should ever be
wendon ðætte æfre menn so reckless, and learning so fall
sceolden
swæ reccelease weorðan, away; through that desire they
ond sio lar swæ oðfeallan; for held back from it, and wished
ðære wilnunga hie hit forleton that the more wisdom there
ond woldon ðaet her ðy mara might be in the land the more
wisdom on londe wære ðy we tongues we might know.”
ma geðeoda cuðon?”
ALFRED, _Pastoral Care_, 900

(2) Thæt witen ge wel alle, This know ye well all, that we
thæt we willen and unnen, thæt will and grant that which our
thæt ure rædesmen alle other councillors, all or the greater
the moare dæl of heom, thæt art of them, who are chosen by
beoth ichosen thurg us and us and by the land’s people in
thurg thæt loandes folk on ure our kingdom, have done and
kuneriche, habbeth idon and shall do, to the honour of God
schullen don in the worthnesse and in allegiance to us, for the
of Gode and on ure treowthe good of the land, by the ordinance
for the frem of the loande of the aforesaid councillors,
thurg the besigte of than be stedfast and permanent
toforeniseide
redesmen, beo stedefaest in all things, time without end,
and ilestinde in alle and we command all our true
thinge a buten ænde, and we men by the faith that they owe
hoaten alle ure treowe in the us, that they stedfastly hold,
treowthe, thæt heo us ogen, and swear to hold and defend
thæt heo stedefaestliche the regulations.
healden
and swerien to healdan and
to werien the isetnesses.
_Proclamation of Henry III_, 1258

(3) And for als moche as it is longe tyme passed that ther was
no generalle passage ne vyage over the see; and many men desiren
for to here speke of the Holy Lond, and han therof gret solace
and comfort; I, John Maundevylle, Knyght alle be it I be not
worthi, that was born in Englond, in the town of Seynt Albones,
passede the see, the yeer of our Lord MCCCXXII, in the
day of Seynt Michelle; and hidra to have been longe tyme over
the see, and have seyn and gon thorghe manye dyverse londes, and
many provynces and kingdomes and iles and have passed thorghout
Turkey, Percye, Surrye, Egypt the highe and the lowe, Ermonye,
Inde the lasse and the more, and many iles, that ben abouten
Inde where dwellen many dyverse folkes and of dyverse maneres
and schappes of men, of which I schalle speke more pleynly
hereafter.
MANDEVILLE, _Travels_, 1370

(4) Yn Brytayn buþ meny wondres, noþeles foure buþ most
wonderfol. Þe furste ys at Pectoun, þar bloweþ so strong a wynd
out of þe chenes of þe eorþe þat hyt casteþ vp a[gh]e[29] cloþes
þat me casteþ in. Þe secunde ys at Stonhenge, bysydes Salesbury,
þar gret stones & wondur huge buþ arered[30] an hy[gh], as
hyt were [gh]ates, so þat þar semeþ [gh]ates yset apon oþer
[gh]ates; noþeles hyt ys no[gh]t clerlych yknowe noþer parceyuet
hou[gh] & whar-fore a buþ so arered & so wonderlych yhonged. Þe
þriddle ys at Cherdhol,[31] þer ys gret holwenes vndur eorþe;
ofte meny men habbeþ y-be þer-ynne & ywalked aboute with-ynne
& yseye ryuers & streemes, bote nowhar conneþ hy fynde ende.
Þe feurþe ys, þat reyn[32] ys ys ye arered vp of þe hulles, &
anon yspronge aboute yn þe feeldes. Also þer ys a gret pond þat
conteyneþ þre score ylondes couenable[33] for men to dwelle
ynne; þat pound ys byclypped aboute wiþ six score rooches.[34]
JOHN OF TREVISA, 1387

(5) So Balan prayed the lady of her gentleness, for his true
service that she would bury them both in that same place where
the battle was done. And she granted them with weeping it
should be done richly in the best manner. “Now will ye send for
a priest, that we may receive our sacrament and receive the
blessed body of our Lord Jesus Christ.” “Yea,” said the lady,
“it shall be done.” And so she sent for a priest and gave them
their rites. “Now,” said Balin, “when we are buried in one tomb,
and the mention made over us how two brethren slew each other,
there will never good knight nor good man see our tomb but they
will pray for our souls.” And so all the ladies and gentlewomen
wept for pity. Then, anon Balan died, but Balin died not till
the midnight after, and so were they buried both, and the lady
let make a mention of Balan how he was there slain by his
brother’s hands, but she knew not Balin’s name.
MALORY, _Morte d’ Arthur_, 1470

2. Comment upon the style of each of the following extracts. Note
the use of French words, the type of sentences, the clearness of
construction, and the handling of the meter. Compare (1) with the
extract given from Chaucer on page 39. Which is the better narrative,
and which shows the more humor?

(1) In a Croniq I fynde thus,
How that Caius Fabricius
Wich whilome was consul of Rome,
By whome the lawes yede and come,
Whan the Sampnitees to him brouht
A somme of golde, and hym by souht
To done hem fauoure in the lawe,
Towarde the golde he gan hym drawe:
Where of in alle mennes loke,
A part in to his honde he tooke,
Wich to his mouthe in alle haste
He put hit for to smelle and taste,
And to his ihe and to his ere,
Bot he ne fonde no comfort there:
And thanne he be gan it to despise,
And tolde vnto hem in this wise:
“I not what is with golde to thryve
Whan none of alle my wittes fyve
Fynt savour ne delite ther inne
So is it bot a nyce sinne
Of golde to ben to coveitous,
Bot he is riche an glorious
Wich hath in his subieccion
The men wich in possession
Ben riche of golde, and by this skille,
For he may alday whan he wille,
Or be him leef or be him loth,
Justice don vppon hem bothe.”
Lo thus he seide and with that worde
He threwe to fore hem on the borde
The golde oute of his honde anon,
And seide hem that he wolde none,
So that he kepte his liberte
To do justice and equite.
GOWER, _Confessio Amantis_

(2) The kyng and hise knyghtes To the kirke wente
To here matyns of the day And the mass after.
Thanne waked I of my wynkyng, And wo was withalle,
That I ne had slept sadder And y-seighen moore.
Ac er I hadde faren a furlong, Feyntise[35] me hente,[36]
That I ne myghte ferther a foot For defaute of slepynge,
And sat softly a-doun, And seide my bileve,
And so[37] I bablede on my bedes Thei broughte me a-slepe.
And thanne saugh I much moore Than I bifore of tolde,
For I seigh the feld ful of folk, That I bifore of seide
And how Reson gan arayen hym Al the reaume[38] to preche
And with a cros afore the kyng Comsede[39] thus to techan.
LANGLAND, _Piers Plowman_

3. The two extracts given below represent the older and the more modern
versions of _Chevy Chace_. Compare them with regard to diction,
vivacity, and general competence in the handling of meter.

(1) With that ther cam an arrowe (2) With that, there came an arrow
hastely keen
Forthe off a mightie wane,[40] Out of an English bow,
Hit hathe strekene the yerle Which struck Erle Douglas to
Duglas the heart,
In at the brest bane. A deepe and deadly blow:

Thoroue lyvar and longs bathe[41]
The sharp arrowe ys gane, Who never spoke more words than
these,
That never after in all his lyffe “Fight on, my merry men all;
days,
He spayke mo wordes but ane, For why, my life is at an end;
That was, “Fyghte ye, my merry Lord Percy sees my fall.”
men whyllys ye may,
For my lyff days ben[42] gan.” Then leaving life, Erle Percy
tooke
The Perse leanyde on his brande, The dead man by the hand;
And sawe the Duglas de;

He tooke the dede man be the And said, “Erle Douglas, for thy
hande, life
And sayd, “Wo ys me for the! Wold I had lost my land.
To have sayvde thy lyffe I wold “O Christ! my verray heart doth
have pertyd[43] with bleed
My landes for years thre, With sorrow for thy sake;
For a better man of hart, nare For sure, a more redoubted knight
of hande
Was not in all the north countre.” Mischance did never take.”

4. “In the union of the two [art and strength] Chaucer stood alone.”
(Saintsbury.) Compare Chaucer with Langland and Gower, and show how he
combines the strength of the former with the art of the latter.

5. The following quotations on Chaucer can each be taken as the theme
of a short discussion, and all of them can be used as the foundation of
a longer paper.

(1) Dan Chaucer, well of English undefiled,
On Fame’s eternall beadroll worthy to be filed.
SPENSER

(2) He is the father of English poetry.... He followed nature
everywhere.... The verse of Chaucer is not harmonious to us....
There is the rudeness of a Scotch tune in it.[44]
DRYDEN

(3) He was a healthy and hearty man, so humane that he loved
even the foibles of his kind.... He was a truly epic poet,
without knowing it.... He has left us such a picture of
contemporary life as no man ever painted.
LOWELL

(4) Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath
Preluded those melodious bursts that fill
The spacious times of great Elizabeth
With sounds that echo still.
TENNYSON

6. Point out some of the traces that the social and religious unrest
has left upon the literature of the time.

7. “There exists a general impression that our prose dates from the
sixteenth century.” (Earle.) Is this impression a correct one?

CHAPTER IV

FROM CHAUCER TO SPENSER

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND (1450–1550)

The dates that appear at the head of this section are only approximate,
but the general features of the time are well defined. In England
the period begins with wars, unrest, and almost chaos; it concludes
with a settled dynasty, a reformed religion, and a people united and
progressive. Abroad, as well as in England, there is apparent the
broad intellectual flood known as the Renaissance, running deep and
strong: the renewed desire for knowledge, changes in religious ideals,
the discovery of new worlds, both geographical and literary, and the
enormous quickening of heart and mind. In England the scene is being
prepared for the great age to follow.

LITERARY FEATURES OF THE AGE

=1. Poverty of Material.= Considering the length of the period, the
poverty of the output is hard to explain. There is no English poet of
any consequence; the prose writing is thin in quality and quantity; and
if it were not for the activities of the Scottish poets the age would
be poor indeed.

=2. Scottish Poetry.= Scottish poetry comes late into notice, but it
comes with a bound. The poverty and disunion of Scotland, its severance
from the intellectual stimulus of English thought, and the dearth of
educational facilities all combine to retard its literary development.
But these disadvantages are rapidly passing away, with the beneficial
results apparent in this chapter.

=3. The Development of the Drama.= The popularity of the romance is
almost gone; the drama, more suited to the growing intelligence of the
time, is rapidly taking on a new importance. The professional actor and
the playwright, owing to real demand for their services, are making
their appearance. The development of the drama is sketched in this
chapter.

=4. The Importance of the Period.= The importance of the time is belied
by its apparent barrenness. In reality it is a season of healthy
fallow, of germination, of rest and recuperation. The literary impulse,
slowly awakening, is waiting for the right moment. When that movement
comes the long period of rest gives the new movement swift and enduring
force.

POETRY

=1. The Scottish Poets.= (_a_) =James I (1394–1437)= was captured by
the English in 1405, and remained in England till 1424, when he married
Joan Beaufort, the cousin of Henry V, and returned to Scotland. The
chief poem associated with his name is _The Kingis Quhair_ (_quire_
or _book_). The attempts to disprove his authorship have not been
successful. It seems to have been written during his captivity, and it
records his first sight of the lady destined to be his wife. It follows
the Chaucerian model of the dream, the garden, and the introduction
of allegorical figures. The stanza is the rhyme royal, which is said
to have derived its name from his use of it. The diction, which is
the common artificial blend of Scottish and Chaucerian forms, is
highly ornamented; but there are some passages of really brilliant
description, and a few stanzas of passionate declamation quite equal
to the best of Chaucer’s _Troilus and Cressida_. It is certainly among
the best of the poems that appear between the periods of Chaucer and
Spenser. Other poems, in particular the more plebeian _Peblis to the
Play_ and _Christis Kirk on the Green_, have been ascribed to James,
but his authorship is extremely doubtful.

The two following stanzas are fair examples of James’s poetry. The man
who wrote them was no mean poet.

Of her array the form if I shall write,
Towards her golden hair and rich attire,
In fretwise couchit[45] with pearlis white,
And great balas[46] leaming[47] as the fire,
With mony ane emeraut and fair sapphire;
And on her head a chaplet fresh of hue,
Of Plumis parted red, and white, and blue.

Full of quaking spangis bright as gold,
Forged of shape like to the amorets,
So new, so fresh, so pleasant to behold,
The plumis eke like to the flower jonets,[48]
And other of shape, like to the flower jonets;
And above all this, there was, well I wot,
Beauty enough to make a world to dote.
_The Kingis Quhair_

(_b_) =Sir David Lyndsay (1490–1555)= was born in Fifeshire about the
year 1490. He entered the royal service, and rose to fill the important
position of Lyon King-of-Arms.

His longer works, which were written during his service at Court,
include _The Dreme_, in rhyme royal stanzas, with the usual allegorical
setting; _The Testament of Squyer Meldrum_, in octosyllabic couplets,
a romantic biography with a strongly Chaucerian flavor; _The
Testament and Compleynt of the Papyngo_, which has some gleams of his
characteristic humor; and _Ane Pleasant Satyre of the Thrie Estatis_, a
morality-play, coarse and vulgar, but containing much of his best work.
It is full of telling satire directed against the Church, and it shows
acute observation of the frailties of his fellows. Lyndsay represents
the ruder type of the Scottish Chaucerian. He has a coarseness
beyond the standard even of his day; but he cannot be denied a bluff
good-humor, a sound honesty of opinion, and an abundant and vital
energy.

(_c_) =Robert Henryson (1425–1500)= has left us few details regarding
his life. In one of his books he is described as a “scholemaister
of Dunfermeling”; he may have studied at Glasgow University; and he
was dead when Dunbar (see below) wrote his _Lament for the Makaris_
in 1506. Hence the dates given for his birth and death are only
approximations.

The order of his poems has not been determined. His longest is a
version of the _Morall Fabillis of Esope_, composed in rhyme royal
stanzas and showing much dexterity and vivacity; _The Testament of
Cresseid_ is a continuation of Chaucer’s _Troilus and Cressida_, and it
has a finely tragic conclusion; _Orpheus and Eurydice_, an adaptation
from Boëthius, has, along with much commonplace moralizing, some
passages of real pathos; and among his thirteen shorter poems _Robene
and Makyne_, a little pastoral incident, is executed with a lightness,
a brevity, and a precision that make it quite a gem among its fellows.
His _Garment of Gude Ladies_, though often quoted, is pedantically
allegorical, and of no high quality as poetry.

We quote two stanzas from _The Testament of Cresseid_. The diction is
an artificial blend of that of Chaucer and of colloquial Scots, and it
is heavily loaded with descriptive epithet; but it is picturesque and
dramatic, in some respects suggesting the later work of Spenser.

His face frosnit,[49] his lyre was lyke the leid,
His teith chatterit, and cheverit[50] with the chin,
His ene[51] drowpit, how,[52] sonkin in his heid,
Out of his nois the meldrop[53] fast did rin,
With lippis bla,[54] and cheikis liene and thin,
The iceschoklis that fra his hair doun hang,
Was wonder greit, and as ane speir als lang.

Atouir[55] his belt his lyart[56] lokkis lay
Felterit[57] unfair, ovirfret with froistis hoir,
His garmound and his gyis[58] full gay of gray,
His widderit weid[59] fra him the wind out woir;
Ane busteous bow within his hand he boir,
Under his girdill ane flasche[60] of felloun flanis,[61]
Fedderit[62] with ice, and heidit with hailstanis.
_The Testament of Cresseid_

(_d_) =William Dunbar (1460–1520)= is generally considered to be the
chief of the Scottish Chaucerian poets. He was born in East Lothian,
studied at St. Andrews University (1477), and went to France and became
a wandering friar. Returning to Scotland, he became attached to the
household of James IV, and in course of time was appointed official
Rhymer. He died about 1520.

Dunbar wrote freely, often on subjects of passing interest; and though
his work runs mainly on Chaucerian lines it has an energy and pictorial
quality that are quite individual. Of the more than ninety poems
associated with his name the most important are _The Golden Targe_, of
the common allegorical-rhetorical type; _The Thrissill and the Rois_,
celebrating the marriage of James IV and the English Margaret (1503);
_The Dance of the Sevin Deidlie Sins_, with its strong _macabre_
effects and its masterly grip of meter; _The Twa Meryit Wemen and the
Wedo_, a revival of the ancient alliterative measure, and outrageously
frank in expression; and _The Lament for the Makaris_, in short stanzas
with the refrain _Timor Mortis conturbat me_, quite striking in its
effect.

The following short extract reveals Dunbar’s strong pictorial quality
and his command of meter.

Let see quoth he now wha begins:--
With that the foul Sevin Deidlie Sins
Beyond to leap at anis[63];
And first of all in dance was Pride
With hair wyld[64] back and bonnet o’ side,
Like to make vaistie wanis.[65]
And round about him as a wheel
Hung all in rumples to the heel
His kethat[66] for the nanis.[67]
Mony proud trumpour[68] with him trippit;
Through scalding fire aye as they skippit
They girned[69] with hideous granis.[70]
Then Ire came in with sturt[71] and strife
His hand was aye upon his knife,
He brandeist like a beir.[72]
_The Dance of the Sevin Deidlie Sins_

(_e_) =Gawain Douglas (1474–1522)= was a member of the famous Douglas
family, his father being the fifth Earl of Angus, Archibald “Bell the
Cat.” He studied at St. Andrews University (1489) and probably at
Paris, became a priest, and rose to be Bishop of Dunkeld. He took a
great share in the high politics of those dangerous times, and in the
end lost his bishopric, was expelled to England, and died in London.

His four works belong to the period 1501–13: _The Palice of Honour_, of
elaborate and careful workmanship, and typical of the fifteenth-century
manner; _King Hart_, a laboriously allegorical treatment of life, the
Hart being the heart of life, which is attended by the five senses and
other personifications of abstractions; _Conscience_, a short poem,
a mere quibble on the word “conscience,” of no great poetical merit;
and the _Æneid_, his most considerable effort, a careful translation
of Virgil, with some incongruous touches, but done with competence and
some poetical ability. It is the earliest of its kind, and so is worthy
of some consideration. Douglas is the most scholarly and painstaking of
his group; but he lacks the native vigor of his fellows. His style is
often overloaded and listless, and in the selection of theme he shows
little originality.

=2. John Skelton (1460–1529)= comes late in this period, but he is
perhaps the most considerable of the poets. His place of birth is
disputed; he may have studied at Oxford, and he probably graduated at
Cambridge. He took orders (1498), entered the household of the Countess
of Richmond, the mother of Henry VII, and became a tutor to Prince
Henry. In 1500 he obtained the living of Diss in Norfolk, but his sharp
tongue ruined him as a rector. He fell foul of Wolsey, and is said to
have escaped imprisonment by seeking sanctuary in Westminster Abbey,
where he died in 1529.

In his _Garlande of Laurell Skelton_ gives a list of his own works,
most of which have perished. This poem itself is a dreary effort,
stilted in style and diffuse in treatment. It is in satire that Skelton
appears at his best. His satirical poems, in spite of their shuffling
and scrambling meters, are usually sharp, often witty, and nearly
always alive. _Why come ye not to Court?_ is addressed to Wolsey, and
for jeering impertinence it is hard to find its equal, at that time
at least; _The Tunnynge of Elynore Runnynge_ is realism indeed, for
it faithfully portrays the drunken orgies of a pack of women in an
ale-house. His more serious poems include a _Dirge on Edward IV_, _The
Bowge of Court_, and a quite excellent morality-play, _Magnificence_.

We quote an example of Skelton’s peculiar meter, which came to be
called “Skeltonics.” It is a species of jingling octosyllabic couplet,
but crumbling and unstable, often descending to doggerel. It is,
however, lively, witty in a shallow fashion, and attractive. His own
description of it is quite just:

For though my rhyme be ragged,
Tattered and jagged,
Rudely rayne beaten,
Rusty and moughte eaten,
It hath in it some pyth.

The following extract shows his powers of invective:

But this mad Amelek
Like to a Mamelek,
He regardeth lords
Not more than potshords;
He is in such elation
Of his exaltation,
And the supportation
Of our sovereign lord,
That, God to record,
He ruleth all at will.
Without reason or skill;
Howbeit the primordial
Of his wretched original,
And his base progeny,
And his greasy genealogy,
He came of the sank[73] royal
That was cast out of a butcher’s stall.
_Why come ye not to Court?_

=3. John Lydgate (1370–1451)= had a great reputation in his day, but
little of it has survived. He was born at Lydgate, near Newmarket, and
became a monk at Bury St. Edmunds, where he rose to be priest in 1397.
He studied and wrote much, gaining a wide reputation both as a scholar
and a poet. The dates of his birth and death are only approximately
fixed.

Lydgate was a friend of Chaucer, upon whom he models much of his
poetry. But as a poet he is no Chaucer. He has none of the latter’s
metrical skill and lively imagination, and the enormous mass of his
poems only enhances their futility. _The Falls of Princes_, full of
platitudes and wordy digressions, is no less than 7,000 verses long;
_The Temple of Glass_, of the common allegorical type, is mercifully
shorter; and so is _The Story of Thebes_, a feeble continuation of
Chaucer’s _Knight’s Tale_. On rare occasions, as in _London Lickpenny_,
he is livelier; but he has no ear for meter, and the common vices of
his time--prolixity, lack of humor, and pedantic allegory--lie heavy
upon him.

=4. Thomas Occleve=, or =Hoccleve (1368–1450)=, may have been born in
Bedfordshire; but we know next to nothing about him, and that he tells
us himself. He was a clerk in the Privy Seal Office, from which in 1424
he retired on a pension to Hampshire.

His principal works are _The Regement of Princes_, written for the
edification of Henry VIII, and consisting of a string of tedious
sermons; _La Male Règle_, partly autobiographical, in a sniveling
fashion; _The Complaint of Our Lady_; and _Occleve’s Complaint_.

The style of Occleve’s poetry shows the rapid degeneration that set
in immediately after the death of Chaucer. His meter, usually rhyme
royal or couplets, is loose and sprawling, the style is uninspired,
and the interest of the reader soon ebbs very low. He himself, in his
characteristic whining way, admits it with much truth:

Fader Chaucer fayne wold han me taught,
But I was dul, and learned lite or nought.

=5. Stephen Hawes (1474–1530)= was a Court poet during the first
twenty years of the sixteenth century. Very little is known of him,
even the dates of his birth and death being largely matters of surmise.

His chief works include _The Passetyme of Pleasure_, a kind of
romantic-homiletic poem, composed both in rhyme royal stanzas and
in couplets, and dealing with man’s life in this world in a fashion
reminiscent of Bunyan’s, _The Example of Virtue_, _The Conversion
of Swerers_, and _A Joyfull Medytacyon_. Of all the poets now under
discussion Hawes is the most uninspired; his allegorical methods are of
the crudest; but he is not entirely without his poetical moments. His
_Passetyme of Pleasure_ probably influenced the allegory of Spenser.

=6. Alexander Barclay (1476–1552)= might have been either a Scotsman
or an Englishman for all that is known on the subject. He was a priest
in Devonshire, and later withdrew to a monastery in Ely. His important
poem, _The Ship of Fools_, a translation of a German work by Sebastian
Brant, represents a newer type of allegory. The figures in the poem
are not the usual wooden creatures representing the common vices and
virtues, but they are sharply satirical portraits of the various kinds
of foolish men. Sometimes Barclay adds personal touches to make the
general satire more telling. _Certayne Ecloges_, another of Barclay’s
works, is the earliest English collection of pastorals. It contains,
among much grumbling over the times, quite attractive pictures of the
country life of the day.

PROSE-WRITERS

=1. Reginald Pecock (1395–1460)= may have been born in Wales, and
perhaps in 1395. He was educated at Oxford, and took orders, when
he became prominent through his attacks upon the Lollards. In his
arguments he went so far that he was convicted of heresy (1457),
forced to make a public recantation, and deprived of his bishopric of
Chichester. He died in obscurity about 1460.

His two works were _The Repressor of Over-much Blaming the Clergy_
(1449) and _The Book of Faith_. In his dogma he strongly supported
the ancient usages of the Church; and in the style of his argument he
is downright and opinionative. His prose, often rugged and obscure, is
marked by his preference for English words in place of those of Latin
origin. His books are among the earliest of English controversial
works, and thus they mark a victory over the once all-important Latin.

=2. William Caxton (1422–91)=, the first English printer, was born
in Kent about the year 1422. He was apprenticed to a London mercer,
and in his capacity of mercer went to Bruges to assist in the revival
of English trade with the Continent. In Bruges, where he lived for
thirty-three years, he started his translations from the French, and
in that city he may have learned the infant art of printing. In 1476
he established himself in London as a printer. There he began to issue
a series of books that laid the foundation of English printing. The
first book printed in England was _The Dictes and Sayengis of the
Philosophers_ (1477). The main part of the volume was the work of
Lord Rivers, but Caxton, as was his habit, revised it for the press.

In addition to printing many older texts, such as Chaucer and Malory,
Caxton did some original work of great value. He translated and printed
no fewer than twenty-one books, French texts, the most remarkable of
which were the two earliest, _The Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye_
(1469) and _The Game and Playe of Chesse_ (1474). Like King Alfred, he
added to many of his books introductory remarks, some of great personal
or general interest.

We give a brief extract from his preface to _The Recuyell_. Observe the
rather clumsy sentences and the plain language.

When I remember that every man is bounden by the commandment
and counsel of the wise man to eschew sloth and idleness, which
is mother and nourisher of vices, and ought to put myself unto
virtuous occupation and business, then I, having no great charge
of occupation, following the said counsel, took a French book
and read therein many strange and marvellous histories wherein
I had great pleasure and delight, as well for the novelty of
the same as for the fair language of French, which was in prose
so well and compendiously set and written, which methought I
understood the sentence and substance of every matter. And
forsomuch as this book was new and late made and drawn into
French, and never had seen it in our English tongue, I thought
in myself it should be a good business to translate it into our
English, to the end that it might be had as well in the realm
of England as in other lands, and also for to pass therewith
the time, and thus concluded in myself to begin this said
work. And forthwith took pen and ink and began boldly to run
forth as blind Bayard, in this present work which is named the
_Recuyell_ of the Trojan histories.

=3. John Fisher (1459–1535)= was born in Yorkshire about 1459, was
educated at Cambridge, and entered the Church. In due course he became
Bishop of Rochester. During the time of the Reformation he opposed
Henry VIII’s desire to be acknowledged as the head of the English
Church, and was imprisoned in the Tower (1531). While there he was made
a cardinal by the Pope; and he was beheaded by the orders of Henry.

Fisher wrote much in Latin, and in English he is represented by a
small collection of tracts and sermons and a longer treatise on
the Psalms. Though they are of no great quantity, his prose works
are in their nature of much importance. They are the first of the
rhetorical-religious books that for several centuries were to be an
outstanding feature of English prose. In addition, they show a decided
advance in the direction of style. They are written in the style of
the orator and are the result of the conscious effort of the stylist:
the searching after the appropriate word (often apparent by the use of
two or three words of like meaning), the frequent use of rhetorical
figures of speech, and a rapid and flowing rhythm. In brief, in the
style of Fisher we can observe the beginnings of an ornate style. It is
still in the making, but it is the direct ancestor of the prose style
of Jeremy Taylor and other divines of the same class.

In the following passage observe the use of such doublets as “painful
and laborious,” “rest and ease,” and “desire and love.” The rhythm is
supple, there is a quick procession of phrases, and the vocabulary is
copious and Latinized to a considerable extent.

What life is more painful and laborious of itself than is the
life of hunters which, most early in the morning, break their
sleep and rise when others do take their rest and ease, and in
his labour he may use no plain highways and the soft grass, but
he must tread upon the fallows, run over the hedges, and creep
through the thick bushes, and cry all the long day upon his
dogs, and so continue without meat or drink until the very night
drive him home; these labours be unto him pleasant and joyous,
for the desire and love that he hath to see the poor hare chased
with dogs. Verily, verily, if he were compelled to take upon him
such labours, and not for this cause, he would soon be weary of
them, thinking them full tedious unto him; neither would he rise
out of his bed so soon, nor fast so long, nor endure these other
labours unless he had a very love therein.
_The Ways to Perfect Religion_

=4. Hugh Latimer (1491–1555)= was born in Leicestershire, educated
at Cambridge, and rose to be chaplain to Henry VIII and Bishop of
Worcester. He resisted some of the reforms of Henry, was imprisoned in
the Tower, and was released on the death of the King. At the accession
of Mary he was once again thrown into jail, and was burned at Oxford.

Latimer’s English prose works consist of two volumes of sermons
published in 1549. They are remarkable for their plain and dogmatic
exposition, their graphical power, and their homely appeal. He is the
first of the writers of plain style.

=5. Sir Thomas More (1478–1535)= was born in London, and was the
son of a judge. He was educated in London, attached to the household of
the Archbishop of Canterbury, and became a lawyer. A man of eager and
aspiring mind, he fell under the influence of Erasmus, Colet, and other
humanists of the period. For a time he sat in Parliament and saw State
service. His advanced political views led to his imprisonment (1534),
and he was beheaded in the following year.

Owing to their elegance and wit, his Latin works are of unusual
importance. They include his _Utopia_, the description of his
imaginary ideal state. This book was not translated into English until
1551, and so does not count as an English work of More’s. His English
prose works include _The Lyfe of John Picus_, _The Historie of
Richard III_, and a number of tracts and letters. He writes ably
and clearly, but with no great distinction of manner. He is the first
writer of the middle style.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

=1. Poetry.= In this period we have to chronicle the appearance of
the _eclogue_ or _pastoral_ in the work of Barclay (_Ecloges_) and in
some shorter poems like Henryson’s _Robene and Makyne_. The pastoral,
which in classical times had been practiced by Virgil and Theocritus,
became a common form of poetical exercise in Italy, France, and Spain
before, in the sixteenth century, it appeared in England. It was marked
by a set of conventional shepherds and shepherdesses, possessing
such names as Colin, Phyllis, and Phœbe; by stock scenes introducing
sheep, meadows, and flowers; and it was often made the medium for
philosophical and political theories. As yet the golden age of the
pastoral had not made its appearance in England, but the beginning of
the vogue was apparent.

A glance at the poems mentioned in this chapter will reveal the
importance of the _allegory_. In this period it grew and hardened
into a mechanical and soulless device, for the poets lacked sufficient
poetical fire to give it life. The allegory, as we can see in Dunbar’s
_Golden Targe_ and Lydgate’s _Temple of Glass_, usually opened with
a garden and a dream, conventionalized to an absurd degree, and it
continued with the introduction of the Goddess of Love, the Virtues and
Vices, and similar stock personations. The allegory, however, in spite
of its enormous elaboration, was not at the end of its popularity, and,
as we shall see in the next chapter, it was to add another great poet
to its list of devotees.

The development of the _ballad_ and _carol_ continued, with highly
satisfactory results. These poems began to acquire polish and
expertness, for the early rudeness was becoming a thing of the past.
To this period probably belong the lovely carol to the Virgin Mary
beginning “I sing of a maiden,” and the ballads connected with Robin
Hood, Fair Rosamund, and many others.

=2. Prose.= There were no outstanding achievements in prose, but facts
all helped to reveal the waning influence of Latin and the increasing
importance given to English. English prose appeared in theological
works, as in those of Fisher; and =Cranmer (1489–1556)= gave it a
new field in his notable English Prayer Book. Historical prose was
represented by _The Chronicle of England_ of =Capgrave (1393–1464)=,
who wrote in a businesslike fashion; a species of philosophical prose
appeared in _The Governance of England_ of =Fortescue (1394–1476)=, and
in _The Boke named the Governour_ of =Eylot (1490–1546)=, a kind of
educational work; _The Castle of Health_, also by the last author, was
a medical work. The great race of Elizabethan translators is well begun
by =Lord Berners (1467–1533)=, who translated Froissart with freedom
and no mean skill; and, lastly, the English Bible was taking shape.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE ENGLISH BIBLE

The work on the English Bible began as early as the eighth century,
when Bede translated a portion of the Gospel of St. John into Old
English prose. The work was ardently continued during the Old English
period--for example, in the Lindisfarne Gospels (about 700) and
the prose of Ælfric (about 1000). During the Anglo-Norman period,
owing to the influence of French and Latin, English translation did
not flourish; but efforts were made, especially in the Psalms and
the Pauline epistles. Translation was systematically undertaken by
=Wyclif (1320–84)=, under whose direction two complete versions
were carried through about 1384 and 1388. How much actual translation
Wyclif accomplished will never be known, but his was the leading
spirit, and to him falls the glory of being the leader in the great
work. To the second of the Wycliffian versions is sometimes given the
name of =John Purvey=, the Lollard leader who succeeded Wyclif.
The two versions are simple and unpretentious renderings, the second
being much more finished than the first.

After Wyclif translation flagged till the Reformation bent men’s minds
anew to the task. The greatest of all the translators was =William
Tyndale (1485–1536)=, who did much to give the Bible its modern
shape. Tyndale suffered a good deal of persecution owing to his
hardihood, and was driven abroad, where much of his translation was
accomplished, and where it was first printed. It was at Cologne that
the first English Bible appeared in print. A feature of Tyndale’s
translation was its direct reliance upon the Hebrew and Greek
originals, and not upon the Latin renderings of them. Of these Latin
texts the stock version was the Vulgate, upon which Wyclif to a large
extent relied.

=Miles Coverdale (1488–1568)= carried on the work of Tyndale. Though he
lacked the latter’s scholarship, he had an exquisite taste for phrase
and rhythm, and many of the most beautiful Biblical expressions are of
his workmanship.

Translations now came apace. None of them, however, was much
improvement upon Tyndale’s. In 1537 appeared the finely printed version
of “Thomas Matthew,” who was said to be =John Rogers=, a friend of
Coverdale. The _Great Bible_, the first of the authorized versions,
was executed by a commission of translators, working under the command
of Henry VIII. It was based on Matthew’s Bible. Another notable
translation was the Calvinistic _Geneva Bible_ (1560). This book
received the popular name of “_Breeches Bible_,” owing to its rendering
of Genesis iii, 7: “They sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves
breeches.” In the reign of Elizabeth was issued the _Bishops’ Bible_
(1568), a magnificent folio, which was translated by a committee of
bishops and learned men. It was intended to be a counterblast to the
growing popularity of the Breeches Bible.

With these we are close upon the great _Authorized Version_ (1611),
which we shall mention in the next chapter, where also we shall briefly
discuss the influence and the literary qualities of this translation. A
few representative passages from the early translations will be found
in the exercises attached to this chapter.

=3. The Drama.= As we have arrived on the threshold of the great
Elizabethan drama, it is here convenient to sketch the growth of the
dramatic form of literature.

(_a_) THE ORIGINS. (1) _Classical._ By the fourth or fifth century the
Latin drama had become degraded almost past recognition. It left the
merest traces in the _mimes_, who were professional strolling players
common to all Europe during the Dark Ages. Their performances seem
to have been poor and ribald enough, and they left little trace upon
English drama.

(2) _Popular Elements._ At the great festivities, such as those at
Easter and Yule, there were popular shows that included a large amount
of acting and speaking. These plays, rude and childish probably,
were survivals of ancient pagan beliefs and contained many scraps of
folk-lore. There were nature-myths, such as that representing the
expulsion of winter, in which a figure representing summer was slain
and then revived. In England these _mummings_, as they were called,
developed into elaborate sword-play, into morris-dancing (partly of
foreign origin), and into dramatic versions of the feats of Robin Hood
and St. George. These plays, which were commonly acted at the feast
of Corpus Christi, were the occasion of fun and license, particularly
at the election of the “Abbot of Unreason,” with his attendants, the
hobby-horse and the clown.

(3) _Ecclesiastical Elements._ In early times the Church was the chief
supporter of the popular drama. The Church service, including the Mass
itself, contains dramatic elements. In the course of time, in order to
make the Church services more intelligible and attractive, there grew
up a habit of exhibiting “living pictures” illustrating Gospel stories,
especially those connected with Easter. As early as the fifth century
we have mention of such primitive dramatic entertainments, which
were accompanied by the singing of hymns. Such was the origin of the
_mystery_.

(_b_) THE MYSTERY-PLAY. The mystery was the dramatic representation
of some important Biblical theme, such as the Nativity or the
Resurrection. There were stock characters, set speeches (usually in
doggerel verse), and a rudimentary plot supplied by the Biblical
narrative. The mystery was in existence as early as the tenth century.
Priests took part in the plays, though it is not certain that they
wrote them; and the performances took place in the vicinity of some
church. This feature proved so attractive that the mystery developed
quite elaborate forms. The mystery-play proper centered around the
Crucifixion and the Resurrection, but other themes that grew into favor
were those of the Fall, Noah, Daniel, and Lazarus.

We add a brief passage from an ancient Cornish mystery. The reader
should observe the set speeches of uniform length, the simple style,
and the rhymeless stanzas.

_Mary Magdalene._ Oh! let us hasten at once,
For the stone is raised
From the tomb.
Lord, how will it be this night,
If I know not where goes
The head of royalty?

_Mary, Mother of James._ And too long we have stayed,
My Lord has gone his way
Out of the tomb, surely.
Alas! my heart is sick;
I know not indeed if I shall see him,
Who is very God.

_Mary Salome._ I know truly, and I believe it,
That he is risen up
In this day.
How long will it be to us now,
That we find not our Lord?
Alas! woe! woe!

[_They sing._

_The Dirge_

Alas! mourning I sing, mourning I call,
Our Lord is dead that bought us all.
_The Three Maries_

(_c_) THE MIRACLE-PLAY. From the well-developed mystery-play it was but
a step to the _miracle-play_. In such plays the theme passed from the
Scriptural story to that of the lives of the saints. The plots were
much more varied, the characters nearer to human experience, and the
style rather more urbane.

(_d_) THE MORALITY-PLAY registered a further advance. In such plays
virtues and vices were presented on the stage as allegorical creations,
often of much liveliness. Abstractions such as Justice, Mercy,
Gluttony, and Vice were among the commonest characters. An important
feature of this class of play is the development of characterization.
It is almost crude; but it is often strongly marked and strongly
contrasted, with broad farcical elements. The favorite comic character
was Vice, whose chief duty was to tease the Devil.

_Everyman_ (about 1490), perhaps the best of the morality-plays,
is represented by the brief extract here given. The characters are
simply but effectively drawn, and the play does not lack a noble
pathos.

_Everyman._ O all thing faileth, save God alone;
Beauty, Strength, and Discretion;
For when Death bloweth his blast,
They all run from me full fast.

_Five-Wits._ Everyman, my leave now of thee I take;
I will follow the other, for here I thee forsake.

_Everyman._ Alas! then may I wail and weep,
For I took you for my best friend.

_Five-Wits._ I will no longer thee keep;
Now farewell, and there an end.

_Everyman._ O Jesu, help, all hath forsaken me!

_Good-Deeds._ Nay, Everyman, I will bide with thee,
I will not forsake thee indeed;
Thou shalt find me a good friend at need.

_Everyman._ Gramercy, Good-Deeds; now may I true friends see;
They have forsaken me every one;
I loved them better than my Good-Deeds alone.
Knowledge, will ye forsake me also?

_Knowledge._ Yea, Everyman, when ye to death do go:
But not for no manner of danger.

_Everyman._ Gramercy, Knowledge, with all my heart.

(_e_) THE PLAY-CYCLES. As the plays developed, so did the demands
upon the stagecraft of the performers. At first the priests were
equal to it. Quite elaborate erections were used. In the very early
productions a popular setting was an erection in three stories. The top
represented heaven, with the heavenly inhabitants, the “middel erde”
was in the center, and lowest of all were the flames of hell, tenanted
by cheerfully disposed devils. In the course of time the acting passed
from the priests into the hands of the craftsmen, the students, and
the schoolboys. The merchants’ guilds, in particular, were the most
consistent supporters of the drama.

A curious feature was the fashion in which the plays ran in cycles or
groups, each of which became associated with some town. The earliest
is the Chester play-cycle (1268–76), comprising twenty-four plays;
others are the York, with forty-nine; the Townley, with thirty-two,
acted at the fairs at Widkirk; and the Coventry, of which only one play
survives. Each member of the play-series was connected in theme with
the others, and the complete cycle illustrated Bible history in all its
stages.

Each company of the guild, say the Barbers or the Wax-chandlers, took a
unit of the series. Each unit was short, corresponding to an _act_
of the modern drama. They were composed in a great variety of meters,
from doggerel to complicated lyrical stanzas.

Each company having selected and rehearsed its play, the entire
apparatus was enclosed in a huge vehicle called the _pageant_.
The body of the vehicle was enclosed, and served as the dressing-and
property-room; the top was an open-air stage. On the day of the
festival, which at York and Coventry was Corpus Christi, the whole
contrivance was pulled about the town, and performances were given
at certain fixed points, of which the abbey was the chief. In _A
Midsummer Night’s Dream_ Shakespeare has caricatured many features
of these artisans’ dramatic performances.

(_f_) THE INTERLUDE. The last predecessor of the drama proper was
the _interlude_, which flourished about the middle of the sixteenth
century. It had several distinguishing points: it was a short play that
introduced real characters, usually of humble rank, such as citizens
and friars; there was an absence of allegorical figures; there was much
broad farcical humor, often coarse; and there were set scenes, a new
feature in the English drama. It will be observed that the interlude
was a great advance upon the morality-play. =John Heywood=, who lived
in the latter half of the sixteenth century, was the most gifted writer
of the interlude. _The four P’s_ is one of his best. It is composed in
doggerel verse, and describes a lying-match between a Pedlar, a Palmer,
a Pardoner, and a Potycary. His _Johan Johan_ has much sharp wit and
many clever sayings.

(_g_) THE EARLIEST DRAMAS. Our earliest dramas began to appear about
1550. Their immediate cause was the renewed study of the classical
drama, especially the plays of Seneca (3 B.C.-A.D. 65), whose
mannerisms were easily imitated by dramatic apprentices. The classical
drama gave English drama its five acts, its set scenes, and many other
features.

(1) _Tragedies._ The first tragedies had the Senecan stiffness of
style, the conventional characters and plot, though in some cases
they adopted the “dumb show,” an English feature. _Gorboduc_ (1562),
afterward called _Ferrex and Porrex_, written by Norton and Lord
Buckhurst, was probably the earliest, and was acted at the Christmas
revels of the Inner Temple. The meter was a wooden type of regular
blank verse. Other plays of a similar character were _Appius and
Virginia_ (1563), of anonymous authorship; the _Historie of Horestes_
(1567), also anonymous; _Jocasta_ (1566); and Preston’s _Cambises, King
of Percia_ (1570). Hughes’s _Misfortunes of King Arthur_ (1587) broke
away from the classical theme, but, like the others, it was a servile
imitation of classical models. Many of the plays, however, preserved a
peculiarly English feature in the retention of the comic Vice.

(2) _Histories._ Along with the alien classical tragedy arose
a healthier native breed of historical plays. These plays, the
predecessors of the historical plays of Shakespeare, were dramatized
forms of the early chronicles, and combined both tragic and comic
elements. This union of tragedy and comedy was alien to the classical
drama, and was the chief glory of the Elizabethan stage. Early
historical plays were _The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth_ (before
1588), a mixture of rude verse and prose; _The Troublesome Raigne of
King John_ (before 1591); and _The Chronicle History of King Leir_
(1594).

(3) _Comedies._ Though the comedies drew much upon Latin comedians,
such as Plautus, and upon Italian models also, they were to a great
extent the growth of the English mumming element. They were composed
usually in mixed verse and prose, the humor was of a primitive
character, but the best of them had verve and high good-humor, and
they were distinguished by some worthy songs and ditties. _Ralph
Roister Doister_ (1551), by =Nicholas Udall=, is the earliest extant
comedy. Its author was the headmaster of Eton, and the play seems to
have been composed as a variant upon the Latin dramas that were the
stock-in-trade of the schoolboy actors then common. Another comedy was
_Gammer Gurton’s Needle_ (1575), the authorship of which is in dispute.
The plot is slight, but the humor, though the reverse of delicate,
is abundant, and the play gives interesting glimpses of contemporary
English life.

We add a small scene from an early comedy. It shows the doggerel verse
and the uninspired style--the homely natural speech of the time.

CHRISTIAN CUSTANCE MARGERIE MUMBLECRUST

_C. Custance._ Who took thee this letter, Margerie Mumblecrust?

_M. Mumble._ A lusty gay bachelor took it me of trust,
And if ye seek to him he will love your doing.

_C. Custance._ Yea, but where learned he that manner of wooing?

_M. Mumble._ If to sue to him, you will any pains take,
He will have you to his wife (he saith) for my sake.

_C. Custance._ Some wise gentleman, belike. I am bespoken:
And I thought verily this had been some token
From my dear spouse Gawin Goodluck, whom when him please,
God luckily send home to both our hearts’ ease.

_M. Mumble._ A joyly man it is, I wot well by report,
And would have you to him for marriage resort;
Best open the writing, and see what it does speak.

_C. Custance._ At this time, nurse, I will neither read ne break.

_M. Mumble._ He promised to give you a whole peck of gold.

_C. Custance._ Perchance, lack of a pint when it shall be all told.

_M. Mumble._ I would take a gay rich husband, and I were you.

_C. Custance._ In good sooth, Madge, e’en so would I, if I were thou.
But no more of this fond talk now, let us go in,
And see thou no more move me folly to begin.
Nor bring me no more letters for no man’s pleasure,
But thou know from whom.

_M. Mumble._ I warrant ye shall be sure.
_Ralph Roister Doister_

_Summary._ We can thus see the material that lay to the hand of
Shakespeare and his fellows. It was almost of uniform development and
of ancient and diverse origin; it was frequently coarse and childish,
but its material was abundant and vital. The time was at hand, and
so was the genius of the master to give this vast body a shape and
impulse. Almost in a day, after centuries of slow ripening, the harvest
came, with a wealth and excellence of fruition that is one of the
marvels of our literature.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE

=1. Poetry.= In English poetry there was a marked decadence in style.
In the works of Lydgate, Skelton, and Hawes the meters often became
mere doggerel; there was little trace of real poetical imagination and
phrasing; and the actual vocabulary is not striking. Compared with that
of Chaucer, their work seems childish and inept. Many reasons have
been advanced to explain this rapid collapse. The most obvious one is
the sheer lack of talent: there is nobody to carry on the Chaucerian
tradition with any great credit. Another cause is probably the rapid
decay of the use of the final _e_, which in the meter of Chaucer was
an item of much moment. Pronunciation of English was rapidly changing,
and the new race of poets had not the requisite skill to modify the
old meter to suit the new age. In Scottish poetry there is much
activity. To a large extent the Scottish poets were content to imitate
the mannerisms of Chaucer. In one respect, indeed, they carried his
descriptive-allegorical method too far, and made their poems lifeless.
Such were the less successful poems of Dunbar (_The Golden Targe_),
and of Gawain Douglas (_The Palice of Honour_). On the other hand,
peculiar Scottish features were not lacking: a breezy and sometimes
vulgar humor, bred, perhaps, of the ruder folk and the bleaker air; a
robust independence and common sense; a note of passion and pathos;
and a sense of the picturesque both in nature and in man. We find such
features illustrated, wholly or in part, in such poems as Lyndsay’s
_Satyre of the Thrie Estatis_, in Dunbar’s _Lament for the Makaris_,
and at the close of Henryson’s _Testament of Cresseid_.

=2. Prose.= The development of prose style was marked by a number
of small improvements which in the aggregate represented no small
advance. Unlike the poetry of the time, prose suffered from no
retrogression. There was a perceptible increase in skill, due to
increased practice; there was a growing perception of the beauties
of rhythm and cadence; and, in the purely formal sense, there was
the appearance of the prose paragraph. Above all, the chief prose
styles--the ornate, the middle, and the plain--are appearing faintly
but perceptibly. With their arrival the rapid development of English
prose is assured.

EXERCISES

1. The following prose passages are early examples of ornate, middle,
and simple styles. Analyze them carefully with respect to their
sentence-construction, vocabulary, and rhythm, and show how each
deserves its name.

(1) Forasmuch as this honourable audience now is here assembled
to prosecute the funeral observances and ceremonies about this
most noble prince late our king and sovereign, king Henry
the seventh. And all be it I know well mine unworthiness and
inabilities to this so great a matter, yet for my most bounden
duty, and for his gracious favour and singular benefits exhibit
unto me in this life, I would now after his death right
affectuously some thing say, whereby your charities the rather
might have his soul recommended. And to that purpose I will
entreat the first psalm of the _dirige_, which psalm was written
of the holy king and prophet king David, comforting him after
his great falls and trespasses against Almighty God and read in
the church in the funeral obsequies of every Christian person
when that he dieth.
FISHER, _Funeral Sermon on Henry VII_

(2) Maistres Alyce, in my most hartywise, I commend me to you.
And whereas I am enfourmed by my son Heron of the losse of my
barnes and our neighbours’ also with all the corn that was
therein; albeit (saving God’s pleasure), it is gret pitie of so
much good corne lost; yet sith it hath liked hym to sende us
such a chaunce, we must and are bounden, not only to be content,
but also to be glad of his visitacion. He sente us all that we
have loste, and sith he hath by such a chaunce taken it away
againe, his pleasure be fulfilled! Let us never grudge thereat,
but take it in good worth and hartely thank him as well for
adversitie as for prosperitie.
MORE, _Letter to his Wife_

(3) Now-a-dayes the judges be afraid to heare a poore man
against the rich, insomuch they will either pronounce against
him, or so drive off the poore man’s sute, that he shall not be
able to go thorow with it. The greatest man in a realme cannot
so hurt a judge as the poore widdow; such a shrewd turne she
can do him. And with what armour, I pray you? She can bring the
judge’s skinne over his eares, and never lay hands upon him.
And how is that? “The teares of the poore fall downe upon their
cheekes, and go up to heaven,” and cry for vengeance before God,
the judge of widdowes, the father of widdowes and orphanes.
Poore people be oppressed even by lawes. Wo worth to them that
make evill lawes against the poore!
LATIMER, _Sermons_

2. Point out in what respects the style and sentiment of each of the
following extracts represent its age and nationality. Write a critique
on the passages taken together: point out their common features.

(1) Now there was made, fast by the tower’s wall
A garden fair; and in the corners set
An herbere[74] green, with wandis long and small
Railed about, and so with treis set
Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet
That lyf[75] was none walking there forbye
That might within scarce any wight espy.

And therewith cast I doun mine eye again
Where as I saw walking under the tower
Full secretly, now comen her to pleyne[76]
The fairest or the freshest younge flower
That e’er I saw methought before that hour
For which sudden abate[77] anon astart
The blood of all my body to my heart.
JAMES I OF SCOTLAND, _The Kingis Quhair_

(2) Thus I, Colin Clout,
As I go about,
And wandering as I walk,
I hear the people talk:
Men say for silver and gold
Mitres are bought and sold.
There shall no clergy oppose
A mitre nor a crose,
But a full purse--
A straw for God’s curse!
What are they the worse?
For a simoniac
Is but a hermoniac,
And no more ye may make
Of simony men say
But a child’s play;
Over this the foresaid lay
Report how the pope may
A holy anchorite call
Out of a stony wall.
SKELETON, _Colin Clout_

(3) He came all so still
Where his mother was,
As dew in April
That falleth on the grass.

He came all so still
To his mother’s bower,
As dew in April
That falleth on the flower.

He came all so still
Where his mother lay,
As dew in April
That falleth on the spray.

Mother and maiden,
Was never none like she!
Well may such a lady,
God’s mother to be!
ANONYMOUS

(4) My father was sae waik of bluid and bane
That he deit,[78] wherefore my mother made greate mane;
Then she deit within ane day or two,
And there began my poverty and wo.
Our gude grey meir was baitand[79] on the field,
And our land’s laird took her for his heryield.[80]
The vicar took the best cow by the heid
Incontinent, when my father was deid.
And when the vicar heard tell how that my mother
Was deid, fra hand, he took till him the other.
LYNDSAY, _Satyre of the Thrie Estatis_

3. The following series of translations of Matthew iii, 1–4,
illustrates the development of Biblical style. Write a short comment
upon them, comparing them and pointing out the development.

(_a_) (1) In þo dayes come Ihone baptist prechand in desert
of þe Iewry, & seyand, (2) Do [gh]e penaunce; forwhy þe kyngdome
of heuyne sal come negh. (3) Þis is he of whome it was seide be
Isay þe prophete, sayand, Þe voice of þe cryand in þe desert,
redye [gh]e þe way of God, right make [gh]e þe lityl wayes of
him.’ (4) & Ihone his kleþing of þe hoerys of camels, & a gyrdyl
of a skyn about his lendys; & his mete was þe locust & hony of
þe wode.
ANONYMOUS, 1300

(_b_) (1) In thilke days came Ioon Baptist, prechynge in
the desert of Iude, sayinge, (2) Do [gh]e penaunce, for the
kyngdom of heuens shal nei[gh] (_or_ cume ni[gh]e). (3)
Forsothe this is he of whome it is said by Ysaye the prophet, A
voice of a cryinge in desert, Make [gh]e redy the wayes of the
Lord; make [gh]e ri[gh]tful the pathes of hym. (4) Forsothe that
ilk Ioon hadde cloth of the heeris of cameylis, and a girdil of
skyn aboute his leendis; sothely his mete weren locustis, and
hony of the wode.
WYCLIF, _First Version_, 1384

(_c_) (1) In tho daies Ioon Baptist cam, and prechide in
the desert of Iudee, and seide, (2) Do [gh]e penaunce, for the
kyngdom of heuenes shal nei[gh]e. (3) For this is he, of whom
it is seid bi Ysaie, the prophete, seyinge, A vois of a crier
in desert, Make [gh]e redi the weies of the Lord; make [gh]e
ri[gh]t the pathis of hym. (4) And this Ioon hadde clothing of
camels heeris, and a girdil of skynne aboute his leendis; and
his mete was honysoukis and hony of the wode.
WYCLIF, _Second Version_, 1388

(_d_) In those dayes Ihon the baptyser cam and preached in
the wyldernes of Iury, saynge, Repent, the kyngedom of heven ys
at hond. Thys ys he of whom it ys spoken be the prophet Isay,
whych sayth; the voice of a cryer in wyldernes, prepaire ye the
lordes waye, and make hys pathes strayght. Thys Ihon had hys
garment of camelles heere, and a gyrdyll of a skynne about hys
loynes. Hys meate was locustes and wyldhe ony.
TYNDALE, 1526

(_e_) In those dayes Ihon the Baptyst came and preached
in the wildernes of Jury, saynge: Amende youre selues, the
kyngdome of heuen is at honde. This is he, of whom it is spoken
by the prophet Esay, which sayeth: The voyce of a cryer in
the wyldernes, prepare the Lordes waye, and make his pathes
straight. This Ihon had his garment of camels heer, and a
lethren gerdell aboute his loynes. Hys meate was locustes and
wylde hony.
COVERDALE, 1536

(_f_) In those dayes came Iohn the Baptyst, preaching in
the wyldernes of Iewry, saying, Repent of the life that is past,
for the kyngdome of heauen is at hande, For thys is he, of whom
the prophet Esay, spake, which sayeth, the voyce of a cryer in
the wyldernes, prepare ye the waye of the lorde: make hys pathes
strayght. This Iohn had hys garment of camels heer and a gyrdell
of a skynne aboute hys loynes. His meate was locustes and wylde
hony.
_The Great Bible_, 1539

4. In the following series of extracts from the early plays comment
upon the general standard of style, and point out any development that
is apparent. Pay particular attention to the meter.

(1) (_From the Chester play-cycle, dating probably from the
fourteenth century._)

_Ham’s Wife._ And I will go to gather slich[81]
The ship for to clean and pitch;
Anointed it must be, every stitch,
Board, tree, and pin.

_Japhet’s Wife._ And I will gather chips here,
To make a fire for you, in fear,
And for to dight[82] your dinner,
Against you come in.

[_Here they make signs as though they were working
with divers instruments._

_Noah._ Now in the name of God I will begin,
To make the ship that we shall in,
That we be ready for to swim,
At the coming of the flood,
These boards I join together,
To keep us safe from the weather,
That we may roam both hither and thither,
And safe be from this flood....
_God._ Noah, take thou thy company,
And in the ship hie that you be,
For none so righteous man to me
Is now on earth living.
_The Deluge_

(2) (_From a sixteenth-century interlude._)

_Bale_ [_speaking as Epilogue_]. The matters are such as we have
uttered here,
As ought not to slide from your memorial;
For they have opened such comfortable gear,
As is to the health of this kind universal,
Graces of the Lord and promises liberal,
Which he gives to man for every age,
To knit him to Christ, and so clear him of bondage.
BALE, _God’s Promises_

(3) (_A historical play._)

For non other cawse God hath kyngs constytute
And gevyn them the sword, but forto correct all vyce.
I have attempted this thing to execute
Uppon transgressers accordyng unto justyce;
And be cawse I wyll not be parcyall in myn offyce
For theft and murder to persones spirytuall,
I have ageynst me the pristes and the bysshoppes all
A lyke dysplesure in my fathers tyme ded fall,
Forty yeres ago, for ponyshment of a clarke.
No cun[`s]ell myght them to reformacyon call,
In ther openyon they were so stordy and so starke,
But ageynst ther prynce to the pope they dyd so barke,
That here in Ynglond in every cyte and towne
Excommunycacyons as thonder bolts came downe.
BALE, _Kynge Johan_

(4) (_From the earliest comedy._)

_R. Roister._ Now, nurse, take this same letter here to thy mistress,
And as my trust is in thee, ply my business.

_M. Mumble._ It shall be done.

_Mathew Merygreeke._ Who made it?

_R. Roister._ I wrote it each whit.

_M. Mery._ Then needs it no mending.

_R. Roister._ No, no.

_M. Mery._ No, I know your wit,
I warrant it well.

_M. Mumble._ It shall be delivered.
But if ye speed, shall I be considered?

_M. Mery._ Whough! Dost thou doubt of that?

_M. Mumble._ What shall I have?

_M. Mery._ An hundred times more than thou canst devise to crave.

_M. Mumble._ Shall I have some new gear? for my old is all spent.

_M. Mery._ The worst kitchen-wench shall go in ladies’ raiment....

[_Here they sing, and go out singing._
UDALL, _Ralph Roister Doister_

5. Trace the influence of the Church upon the early English drama, and
account for the decay of the Church influence.

6. Point out some of the effects of the Reformation that are apparent
in the literature of the day.

7. In what respects is the period 1450–1550 a period of literary
decadence, and in what respects does it show an advance?

8. Account for the sudden appearance of Scottish literature, and for
its rapid rise to such a high standard.

9. In what respects was the Scottish literature of the time imitative,
and in what respects was it original?

10. “As the Romance decays, the Drama develops.” Is this quite true? If
so, can you account for the fact?

11. “The most original and powerful poetry of the fifteenth century was
composed in popular form for the ear of the common people.” Discuss
this statement with reference to the ballads, the carols, the songs,
and the dramas of the time, as they compare with the other poetry of
the day.

12. “It is doubtful if anyone in the fifteenth century thought of prose
as a medium of artistic expression.” Comment upon this statement.

CHAPTER V

THE AGE OF ELIZABETH

TIME-CHART OF THE CHIEF AUTHORS

_The thick line indicates the period of active literary
production._

1560 1570 1580 1590 1600 1610 1620 1630 1640
| | | | | | | | |
Spenser |........|.. ║[83]| | ║ | | | | |
(1552–99) | | ║ ===================║ | | | | |
| ║ | | |║[84] | | | |║ |
Drayton | ║......|........|........|║===================================║ |
(1563–1631) | | | | | | | | |
| | ║ | | ║ | | | |║ |
Donne | | ║ ....|........|.║==================================║ |
(1573–1631) | | | | | | | | |
| ║ | | ║[85]| ║ | | | | |
Marlowe | ║......|........|...║========║ | | | | |
(1564–93) | | | | | | | | |
| ║ | | | ║[86] | | ║ | | |
Shakespeare | ║......|........|........|.║===================║ | | |
(1564–1616) | | | | | | | | |
| | | | | | | | |
Jonson | | ║ | | ║[87] | | | | ║ |
(1573–1637) | | ║....|........|..║=====================================║ |
| | | ║ |║[88] ║ | | | | |
Hooker |........|........|...║=====║=====║ | | | | |
(1553–1600) | | | | | | | | |
|║ | | | ║[89] | | | ║ | |
Bacon |║.......|........|........|...║==========================║ | |
(1561–1626) | | | | | | | | |
| | ║ | | | | |║[90] | ║ |
Burton | | ║.....|........|........|........|........|║==============║ |
(1577–1640) | | | | | | | | |

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND (1550–1630)

This chapter introduces the reign of Elizabeth, sees it reach its
climax and conclusion, and then witnesses the literary decline under
the first of the Stuarts. The dominating features of the period can be
conveniently summarized under two heads.

=1. Settlement.= Both in politics and religion the English nation
was attaining to a state of stability. Dynastic problems, though they
were troublesome, were not sufficient to cause serious trouble; and the
union of the Crowns finally set at rest the ancient quarrel between
Scotland and England. In religion the same general features were
apparent--a general subsidence into quiescence, with minor disturbances
at regular intervals. The settlement was all for the good of literature.

=2. Expansion.= In our history this is perhaps the most remarkable
epoch for the expansion of both mental and geographical horizons. New
knowledge was pouring in from the East, and new worlds were opening
in the West. The great voyagers, whose exploits were chronicled in
the immortal pages of =Hakluyt (1553–1616)=, brought home both
material and intellectual treasures from beyond the “still-vexed
Bermoothes,” as Shakespeare called them. It is unnecessary to enlarge
upon the important effects which these revolutionary discoveries
produced in literature.

LITERARY FEATURES OF THE AGE

=1. The New Classicism.= By the time of Elizabeth the Renaissance,
as it was called, had made itself strongly felt in England. In
particular, there was an ardent revival in the study of Greek, which
brought a dazzling light into many dark places of the intellect.
The new passion for classical learning, in itself a rich and worthy
enthusiasm, became quite a danger to the language. In all branches
of literature Greek and Latin usages began to force themselves upon
English, with results not wholly beneficial. It said much for the
native sturdiness of English that, after a brief and vexed period of
transition, it threw off the worst effects of this deadening pressure.
English did not emerge unscathed from the contest. But, applied to this
slight extent, the new classical influences were a great benefit: they
tempered and polished the earlier rudeness of English literature.

=2. Abundance of Output.= After the lean years of the preceding epoch
the prodigal issue of the Elizabethan age is almost embarrassing. As
we have pointed out, the historical situation encouraged a healthy
production. The interest shown in literary subjects is quite amazing
to a more chastened generation. Pamphlets and treatises were freely
written; much abuse, often of a personal and scurrilous character,
was indulged in; and literary questions became almost of national
importance. To a great extent the controversies of the day were puerile
enough, but at least they indicated a lively interest in the literature
of the period.

=3. The New Romanticism.= The romantic quest is for the remote, the
wonderful, and the beautiful. All these desires were abundantly fed
during the Elizabethan age, which is our first and greatest romantic
epoch. On the one hand, there was the revolt against the past, whose
grasp was too feeble to hold in restraint the lusty youth of the
Elizabethan age; on the other, there was a daring and resolute spirit
of adventure in literary as well as in other regions; and, most
important of all, there was an unmistakable buoyancy and freshness
in the strong wind of the spirit. It was the ardent youth of English
literature, and the achievement was worthy of it.

=4. The Drama.= The bold and critical attitude of the time was in
keeping with the dramatic instinct, which is analytic and observant.
Hence, after the long period of incubation detailed in the last
chapter, the drama made a swift and wonderful leap into maturity.
Yet it had still many early difficulties to overcome. The actors
themselves were at variance, so much so that outrageous brawls were
frequent. On more than one occasion between 1590 and 1593 the theaters
were closed owing to disturbances caused by the actors. In 1594 the
problem was solved by the licensing of two troupes of players, the Lord
Chamberlain’s (among whom was Shakespeare) and the Lord Admiral’s.
Another early difficulty the drama had to face was its fondness for
taking part in the quarrels of the time--for example, in the burning
“Marprelate” controversy. Owing to this meddling the theaters were
closed in 1589. Already, also, a considerable amount of Puritanical
opposition was declaring itself. The most important anti-dramatic book
of the day was Gosson’s virulent _School of Abuse_ (1579), to which
Sidney replied with his _Apologie for Poetrie_ (about 1580).

In spite of such early difficulties, the drama reached the splendid
consummation of Shakespeare’s art; but before the period closed decline
was apparent.

=5. Poetry.= Though the poetical production was not quite equal to the
dramatic, it was nevertheless of great and original beauty. As can be
observed from the disputes of the time, the passion for poetry was
absorbing, and the outcome of it was equal to expectation.

=6. Prose.= For the first time prose rises to a position of first-rate
importance. The dead weight of the Latin tradition was passing away;
English prose was acquiring a tradition and a universal application;
and so the rapid development was almost inevitable.

=7. Scottish Literature.= A curious minor feature of the age was the
disappearance of Scottish literature, after its brief but remarkable
appearance in the previous age. At this point it took to ground, and
did not reappear till late in the eighteenth century.

EDMUND SPENSER (1552–99)

=1. His Life.= From a passage in one of his sonnets it seems clear
that Spenser was born in 1552; and from another passage, in his
_Prothalamion_, we can deduce that he was born in London. His parentage
is unknown; but, though Spenser claimed kinship with the noble branch
of the Spenser family, it is fairly certain that he was a member
of some northern plebeian branch. He was educated at the Merchant
Taylors’ School (just founded in 1560) and at Cambridge. He left
Cambridge in 1576, and for a few years his movements are unknown,
though he probably spent the time in the North of England. He comes
into view in London during the year 1579 as a member of the famous
literary circle surrounding Sir Philip Sidney and his uncle the Earl
of Leicester. Sidney patronized Spenser, introducing him to the Queen
and encouraging him in his imitation of the classical meters. In 1580
Sidney’s patronage bore fruit, for Spenser was appointed secretary to
Lord Grey de Wilton, who had just been appointed Lord-Deputy of Ireland.

In Ireland Spenser remained for eighteen years, serving the English
government in more than one capacity, and seeing his share of the
rebellion, outrage, and misery that afflicted the unhappy land. In the
end his services were requited by the grant of Kilcolman Castle, near
Limerick, and an estate of three thousand acres. In 1589 he visited
London to publish the first three books of _The Faerie Queene_.
After remaining in London for nearly two years he returned to Ireland;
married an Irishwoman (1591); revisited London in 1596, bringing
a second instalment of his great work; and once more returned to
Kilcolman, which was ultimately burnt down (1598) during one of the
sporadic rebellions that tormented the country. One of his children
perished in the fire. A ruined and disappointed man, he repaired to
London, where in the next year he died, “for lack of bread,” according
to the statement of Ben Jonson.

=2. His Minor Poems.= The first of the poems that have descended to us
is _The Shepherd’s Calendar_ (1579). The title, adopted from a popular
compilation of the day, suggests the contents: a series of twelve
eclogues, one for each month of the year. Each eclogue, as is common
with the species, is in dialogue form, in which the stock pastoral
characters, such as Cuddie, Colin Clout, and Perigot, take part. The
pieces, though they are of no great poetical merit, served as excellent
poetical exercises, for they range widely in meter, contain much
skillful alliteration, and juggle with the conventional phrases of the
pastoral.

A volume of miscellaneous poems, including _The Ruins of Time_,
_The Tears of the Muses_, _Mother Hubberd’s Tale_, and _The Ruins
of Rome_, appeared in 1591; in 1595 he published his _Amoretti_, a
series of eighty-eight sonnets celebrating the progress of his love;
_Epithalamion_, a magnificent ode, rapturously jubilant, written in
honor of his marriage; and _Colin Clouts Come Home Againe_, somewhat
wordy, but containing some interesting personal details. In 1596
appeared his _Four Hymns_ and _Prothalamion_, the latter not so fine as
the great ode of the previous year.

Spenser’s shorter poems illustrate his lyrical ability, which is
moderate in quality. His style is too diffuse and ornate to be
intensely passionate; but, especially in the odes, he can build up
sonorous and commanding measures which by their weight and splendor
delight both mind and ear. To a lesser extent, as in _Mother Hubberd’s
Tale_, the shorter poems afford him scope for his satirical bent, which
can be sharp and censorious.

We quote from the _Epithalamion_, which stands at the summit of English
odes:

Open the temple gates unto my love,
Open them wide that she may enter in,
And all the posts adorn as doth behove,
And all the pillars deck with girlonds trim,
For to receive this Saint with honour due,
That cometh unto you.
With trembling steps, and humble reverence,
She cometh in, before the Almighty’s view;
Of her, ye virgins, learn obedience,
When so ye come into these holy places,
And humble your proud faces.
Bring her up to the high altar, that she may
The sacred ceremonies there partake,
The which do endless matrimony make;
And let the roaring organs loudly play
The praises of the Lord in lively notes;
The whiles, with hollow throats,
The choristers the joyous anthem sing,
That all the woods may answer, and their echo ring.

=3. Prose.= In addition to his letters, which are often interesting and
informative, Spenser left one longish prose work, a kind of State paper
done in the form of a dialogue. Called _A View of the Present State
of Ireland_ (1594), it gives Spenser’s views on the settlement of the
Irish question. His opinions are exceeding hostile to the Irish, and
his methods, if put in force, would amount to pure terrorism. The style
of the pamphlet is quite undistinguished.

=4. The Faerie Queene.= In spite of the variety and beauty of his
shorter poems, _The Faerie Queene_ is by far the most important of
Spenser’s works.

(_a_) _Dates of Composition._ The work appeared in instalments. In 1589
Spenser crossed to London and published the first three books; in 1596
the second three followed; and after his death two cantos and two odd
stanzas of Book VII appeared. It was reported that more of the work
perished in manuscript during the fire at Kilcolman, but this is not
certain.

(_b_) _The Plot._ The construction of the plot is so obscure
(“clowdily enwrapped in Allegorical devises,” as Spenser himself says)
that he was compelled to write a preface, in the form of a letter
to his friend Sir Walter Raleigh, explaining the scheme underlying
the whole. There were to be twelve books, each book to deal with the
adventures of a particular knight, who was to represent some virtue.
As we have the poem, the first book deals with the Knight of the Red
Cross, representing Holiness; the second with Temperance; the third
with Chastity; the fourth with Friendship; and so on. The chief of
all the twelve is Prince Arthur, who is to appear at critical moments
in the poem, and who in the end is to marry Gloriana, the Queen of
“Faerie-londe.” The plot is exceedingly leisurely and elaborate; it
is crammed with incident and digression; and by the fifth book it is
palpably weakening. It is therefore no misfortune (as far as the plot
is concerned) that only half of the story is finished.

(_c_) _The Allegory._ With its twelve divisions, each of which bears
many smaller branches, the allegory is the most complex in the
language. Through the story three strands keep running, twisting and
untwisting in a manner both baffling and delightful. (1) There are the
usual characters, poorly developed, of the Arthurian and classical
romance, such as Arthur, Merlin, Saracens, fauns, and satyrs. (2)
There are the allegorized moral and religious virtues, with their
counterparts in the vices: Una (Truth), Guyon (Temperance), Duessa
(Deceit), Orgoglio (Pride).

(3) Lastly, there is the strongly Elizabethan
political-historical-religious element, also strongly allegorized. For
example, Gloriana is Elizabeth, Duessa may be Mary, Queen of Scots,
Archimago may be the Pope, and Artegal (Justice) is said to be Lord
Grey. Sometimes the allegory winds and multiplies in a bewildering
fashion. Elizabeth, who is grossly and shamelessly flattered in the
poem, is sometimes Gloriana, sometimes Belphœbe, or Britomart, or
Mercilla. It is very ingenious, but it retards the story.

(_d_) _The Style._ No one, however, goes to Spenser for a story; one
goes to steep the senses in the rich and voluptuous style. The style
has its weaknesses: it is diffuse, and lacks judgment; it is weak in
“bite” and in sharpness of attack; and it is misty and unsubstantial.
But for beauty long and richly wrought, for subtle and sustained
melody, for graphic word-pictures, and for depth and magical color of
atmosphere the poem stands supreme in English. Its imitators, good and
bad, are legion. Milton, Keats, and Tennyson are among the best of
them, and its influence is still powerful.

(_e_) _The Technique._ To the formal part of the poem Spenser devoted
the intelligence and care of the great artist. (1) First of all, he
elaborated an archaic diction: “he writ no language,” said Ben Jonson,
who did not like the diction. When the occasion demanded it he invented
words or word-forms; for example, he uses _blend_ for _blind_, _kest_
for _cast_, and _vilde_ for _vile_. The result is not perhaps ideal,
but on the whole it suits the old-world atmosphere of the poem. (2) He
introduced the Spenserian stanza, which ever since has been one of the
most important measures in the language. Longer than the usual stanza,
but shorter than the sonnet, as a unit it is just long enough to give
an easy pace to the slowly pacing narrative. The complicated rhymes of
the stanza suit the interwoven harmonies of the style; and the long
line at the end acts either as a dignified conclusion or as a longer
and stronger link with the succeeding stanza. (3) The alliteration,
vowel-music, and cadence are cunningly fashioned, adroitly developed,
and sumptuously appropriate. In these last respects Spenser is almost
peerless.

We add two brief extracts to illustrate some features of the style. The
reader should analyze the stanza and observe the graphical power and
the melodic beauty.

(1) And more to lulle him in his slumber soft,
A trickling streame from high rock tumbling downe,
And ever-drizling raine upon the loft,
Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne
Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne.
No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes,
As still are wont t’annoy the walled towne,
Might there be heard; but carelesse Quiet lyes
Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enimyes.

(2) At last he came unto a gloomy shade,
Covered with boughes and shrubs from heavens light,
Whereas he sitting found in secret shade
An uncouth, salvage, and uncivile wight,[91]
Of griesly hew and foule ill favour’d sight;
His face with smoke was tand and eies were bleard,
His head and beard with sout were ill bedight,
His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have ben seard
In smythes fire-spitting forge, and nayles like clawes appeard.

His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust,
Was underneath enveloped with gold;
Whose glistring glosse, darkened with filthy dust,
Well yet appeared to have beene of old
A worke of rich entayle[92] and curious mould,
Woven with antickes and wyld ymagery;
And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,
And turned upside downe, to feede his eye
And covetous desire with his huge threasury.

And round about him lay on every side
Great heapes of gold that never could be spent;
Of which some were rude owre,[93] not purifide
Of Mulcibers devouring element;
Some others were new driven, and distent[94]
Into great Ingowes[95] and to wedges square;
Some in round plates withouten moniment;
But most were stampt, and in their metal bare
The antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare.

OTHER POETS

=1. Sir Thomas Wyat (1503–42)= was descended from an ancient Yorkshire
family which adopted the Lancastrian side in the Wars of the Roses.
He was educated at Cambridge, and, entering the King’s service, was
entrusted with many important diplomatic missions. In public life his
principal patron was Thomas Cromwell, after whose death he was recalled
from abroad and imprisoned (1541). Though subsequently acquitted and
released, he died shortly afterward.

None of Wyat’s poems is very long, though in number they are
considerable. The most numerous of them are his love-poems, ninety-six
in all, which appeared in a compendium of the day called _Tottel’s
Miscellany_ (1557). The most noteworthy of these poems are the
sonnets, the first of their kind in English, thirty-one in number. Of
these, ten are written almost entirely in the Italian or Petrarchan
form. In sentiment the shorter poems, and especially the sonnets, are
serious and reflective; in style and construction they are often too
closely imitative to be natural and genial; but as indications of the
new scholastic and literary influences at work upon English, sweetening
and chastening the earlier uncouthness, they are of the highest
importance. Wyat’s epigrams, songs, and rondeaux are lighter than the
sonnets, and they also reveal a care and elegance that were typical of
the new romanticism. His _Satires_ are composed in the Italian
_terza rima_, once again showing the direction of the innovating
tendencies.

=2. Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1518–47)=, whose name is usually
associated in literature with that of Wyat, was the younger poet of
the two. He was the son of Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, and when
his father became Duke of Norfolk (1524) the son adopted the courtesy
title of Earl of Surrey. Owing largely to the powerful position of his
father, Surrey took a prominent part in the Court life of the time,
and served as a soldier both in France and Scotland. He was a man of
reckless temper, which involved him in many quarrels, and finally
brought upon him the wrath of the ageing and embittered Henry VIII. He
was arrested, tried for treason, and beheaded on Tower Hill.

About 1542 Surrey began his literary relations with Wyat, who was his
elder by fifteen years. His poems, which were the recreations of his
few leisure moments, and which were not published till after his death
(1557), appeared along with Wyat’s in _Tottel’s Miscellany_. They
are chiefly lyrical, and include a few sonnets, the first of their
kind, composed in the English or Shakespearian mode--an arrangement of
three quatrains followed by a couplet. There are in addition a large
number of love-poems addressed to a mysterious “Geraldine.” They are
smoother than Wyat’s poems, and are much more poetical in sentiment
and expression. His most important poem was published separately:
_Certain Bokes of Virgiles Æneis turned into English Meter_
(1557). Though the actual translation is of no outstanding merit, the
form is of great significance; it is done in blank verse, rather rough
and frigid, but the earliest forerunner of the great achievements of
Shakespeare and Milton.

In the development of English verse Surrey represents a further stage:
a higher poetical faculty, increased ease and refinement, and the
introduction of two metrical forms of capital importance--the English
form of the sonnet, and blank verse. We add a specimen of the earliest
English blank verse. It is wooden and uninspired, but as a beginning it
is worthy of attention.

But now the wounded quene with heavie care
Throwgh out the vaines doth nourishe ay the plage,
Surprised with blind flame, and to her minde
Gan to resort the prowes of the man
And honor of his race, whiles on her brest
Imprinted stake his wordes and forme of face,
Ne to her lymmes care graunteth quiet rest.
The next morowe with Phœbus lampe the erthe
Alightned clere, and eke the dawninge daye
The shadowe danke gan from the pole remove.

=3. Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset (1536–1608)=, was born at
Buckhurst, in Sussex, and was educated both at Oxford and Cambridge. He
was called to the Bar, entered Parliament, took part in many diplomatic
and public missions, and was created Lord Buckhurst in 1566. His plain
speaking did not recommend itself to Elizabeth, and for a time he was
in disgrace. He was restored to favor, created Lord High Treasurer, and
made Earl of Dorset in 1604.

In bulk Sackville’s poetry does not amount to much, but in merit it is
of much consequence. Two poems, _The Induction_ and _The Complaint of
Henry, Duke of Buckingham_, appeared in a miscellany called _The Mirror
for Magistrates_ (1555). Both are composed in the rhyme royal stanza,
are melancholy and elegiac in spirit and archaic in language, but
have a severe nobility of thought and a grandeur of conception and of
language quite unknown since the days of Chaucer. The poems undoubtedly
assisted Spenser in the composition of _The Faerie Queene_.

Sackville collaborated with Norton in the early tragedy of _Gorboduc_
(see p. 77).

We add a few stanzas from _The Induction_ to illustrate the somber
graphical power of the poem:

And, next in order, sad Old Age we found,
His beard all hoar, his eyes hollow and blind,
With drooping cheer still poring on the ground,
As on the place where nature him assigned
To rest, when that the Sisters had untwined
His vital thread, and ended with their knife
The fleeting course of fast-declining life.

There heard we him, with broke and hollow plaint,
Rue with himself his end approaching fast,
And all for nought his wretched mind torment
With sweet remembrance of his pleasures past,
And fresh delights of lusty youth forwaste;[96]
Recounting which, how would he sob and shriek,
And to be young again of Jove beseek!

* * * * *

Crook-backed he was, tooth-shaken, and blear-eyed,
Went on three feet, and sometime crept on four;
With old lame bones, that rattled by his side;
His scalp all piled,[97] and he with eld forelore;
His withered fist still knocking at Death’s door;
Fumbling and drivelling as he draws his breath;
For brief, the shape and messenger of Death.

=4. George Gascoigne (1535–77)= is another of the founders of the
great Elizabethan tradition. He was born in Bedfordshire, educated at
Cambridge, and became a lawyer. Later in life he entered Parliament.

In addition to a large number of elegant lyrics, he composed one of
the first regular satires in the language, _The Steel Glass_ (1576).
This poem has the additional importance of being written in blank
verse. Among his other numerous works we can mention his tragedy
_Jocasta_ (1566), a landmark in the growth of the drama (see p. 77);
his _Supposes_ (1566), an important early comedy which was the basis of
Shakespeare’s _Taming of the Shrew_; and _Certayne Notes of Instruction
concerning the Making of Verse in English_ (1575), one of our earliest
critical essays. In ease and versatility Gascoigne is typical of the
best early Elizabethan miscellaneous writers.

=5. Sir Philip Sidney (1554–86)= was the chief of an elegant literary
coterie, and exercised an influence which was almost supreme during his
short life. He was the most commanding literary figure before the prime
of Spenser and Shakespeare. Born in Kent of an aristocratic family,
he was educated at Shrewsbury and Oxford, and then traveled widely.
He took a brilliant part in the military-literary-courtly life common
with the young nobles of the time, and at the early age of thirty-two
was mortally wounded at Zutphen when assisting the Dutch against the
Spaniards.

Sidney was successful in more than one branch of literature, but
he owes his position chiefly to his collection of sonnets called
_Astrophel and Stella_. Though they are strongly imitative of Italian
sentiment, and are immature in thought and in general ideas, they are
often remarkable for their flashes of real passion and their genuine
poetical style. In metrical form they adopt the English scheme, and
thus in another respect they foreshadow the great Shakespearian
sonnets, to which alone they take second place.

=6. Michael Drayton (1563–1631)= represents the later epoch of
Elizabethan literature. He was born in Warwickshire, studied at Oxford,
was attached to a noble family as tutor, came to London about 1590, and
for the remainder of his long life was busy in the production of his
many poems.

His first book was a collection of religious poems called _The Harmony
of the Church_ (1591); then followed a number of long historical
poems, which include _England’s Heroical Epistles_ and _The Barons’
Wars_ (1603). His _Polyolbion_ is the most important of his longer
poems, and belongs to a later period of his career. It is a long,
careful, and tedious description of the geographical features of
England, interspersed with tales, and written in alexandrines. His
shorter poems, such as his well-known poem on Agincourt, and his verse
tales and pastorals, such as _The Man in the Moon_ and _Nymphidia_,
are skillful and attractive. Drayton is rarely an inspired poet--the
wonderful sonnet beginning “Since there’s no help” (see p. 152) is
perhaps his only poem in which we feel inspiration flowing freely--but
he is painstaking, versatile, and sometimes (as in _Nymphidia_)
delightful.

=7. Thomas Campion (1567–1620)= was born in London, educated at
Cambridge, studied law in Gray’s Inn, but ultimately became a physician
(1606). He wrote some masques that had much popularity, but his chief
claim to fame lies in his attractive lyrics, most of which have been
set to music composed partly by the poet himself. His best-known
collections of songs were _A Booke of Ayres_ (1601), _Songs of
Mourning_ (1613), and _Two Bookes of Ayres_ (1613). Campion had not the
highest lyrical genius, but he had an ear skillful in adapting words
to tunes, the knack of sweet phrasing, and a mastery of complicated
meters. He is one of the best examples of the accomplished poet
who, lacking the highest inspiration of poetry, excels in the lower
technical features.

The lyric of Campion’s that we add is typical not only of his own grace
and melody, but also of the later Elizabethan lyrics as a whole. The
ideas, in themselves somewhat forced and fantastic, are expressed with
great felicity.

There is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow;
There cherries grow that none may buy,
Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry.

Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rose-buds fill’d with snow:
Yet them no peer nor prince may buy
Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry.

Her eyes like angels watch them still;
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat’ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that attempt with eye or hand
These sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry.

=8. Phineas Fletcher (1582–1650)= and =Giles Fletcher (1588–1623)= are
usually associated in the history of literature. They were brothers,
were both educated at Cambridge, and both took holy orders. Both were
poetical disciples of Spenser.

Phineas Fletcher’s chief poem is _The Purple Island, or The Isle of
Man_ (1633), a curious work in twelve cantos describing the human
body in an allegorical-descriptive fashion. There is much digression,
which gives the poet some scope for real poetical passages. In its plan
the poem is cumbrous and artificial, but it contains many descriptions
in the Spenserian manner. The stanza is a further modification of the
Spenserian, which it resembles except for its omission of the fifth and
seventh lines.

Giles’s best-known poem is _Christ’s Victorie and Triumph_ (1610),
an epical poem in four cantos. The title of the poem sufficiently
suggests its subject; in style it is glowingly descriptive,
imaginative, and is markedly ornate and melodious in diction. It is
said partly to have inspired Milton’s _Paradise Regained_. The
style is strongly suggestive of Spenser’s, and the stanza conveys the
same impression, for it is the Spenserian stanza lacking the seventh
line.

The Fletchers are imitators, but imitators of high quality. They lack
the positive genius of their model Spenser, but they have intensity,
color, melody, and great metrical artistry.

=9. John Donne (1573–1631)= was born in London, the son of a
wealthy merchant. He was educated at Oxford, and then studied law.
Though he entered the public service and served with some distinction,
his bent was always theological, and in 1616 he was ordained. In 1621
he was appointed Dean of St. Paul’s.

Donne’s poetical works are probably more important than those composed
in prose, valuable though the latter are. He began poetical composition
with _Satires_ (1593), forcible and picturesque, though crabbed and
obscure in language. His other poems include _The Progress of the
Soul_, his longest poem, composed about 1600; _An Anatomy of the World_
(1611), a wild, exaggerated eulogy of a friend’s daughter, who had
just died; and a large number of miscellaneous poems, including songs,
sonnets, elegies, and letters in verse.

In his nature Donne had a strain of actual genius, but his natural
gifts were so obscured with fitful, wayward, and exaggerated mannerisms
that for long he was gravely underrated. His miscellaneous poems
show his poetical features at their best: a solemn, half-mystical,
half-fanatical religious zeal; a style of somber grandeur, shot with
piercing gleams of poetical imagery; and an almost unearthly music of
word and phrase. Often, and especially in the _Satires_, he is
rough and obscure; in thought and expression he is frequently fantastic
and almost ludicrous; but at his best, when his stubborn, melancholy
humor is fired with his emotional frenzy, he is almost alone in his
curious compound of gloom and brilliance, of ice and consuming fire. He
is the last of the Elizabethans, and among the first of the coming race
of the “Metaphysicals.”

His prose works comprise a large number of sermons, a few theological
treatises, of which the greatest is _The Pseudo-Martyr_ (1609), and
a small number of personal letters. In its peculiar manner his prose
is a reflex of his poetry. There is the same soaring and exaggerated
imagery, the same fierce pessimism, and often the same obscurity and
roughness. In prose his sentences are long and shapeless, but the
cadence is rapid and free, and so is suited to the purposes of the
sermon.

As a brief specimen of his poetical mannerisms, good and bad, we add
the following sonnet. The reader will observe the rugged grandeur of
the style and the curious intellectual twist that he gives to the
general idea of the poem.

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those, whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow:
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
Thou’rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke. Why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally;
And death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die.
_Holy Sonnetts_

=10. Samuel Daniel (1562–1619)= was born near Taunton in Somerset,
educated at Oxford, and became tutor to the son of the Countess of
Pembroke. For a time (1599) he was Poet Laureate, and was made (1603)
Master of the Queen’s Revels by James I.

His poems include a sonnet-series called _Delia_ (1592), a romance
called _The Complaint of Rosamund_ (1592), some long historical poems,
such as _The Civil Wars_ (1595), and a large number of masques, of
which _The Queenes Wake_ (1610) and _Hymen’s Triumph_ (1615) are the
most important. His best work appears in his sonnets, which, composed
in the English manner, carry on the great tradition of Sidney, Spenser,
and Shakespeare. In his longer poems he is prosy and dull, though the
masques have pleasing touches of imagination.

=11.= The =poetical miscellanies= which abound during this period
are typical of the time. By the very extravagance of their titles
they reveal the enthusiasm felt for the revival of English poetry.
Each volume consists of a collection of short pieces by various
poets, some well known and others unknown. Some of the best poems are
anonymous. Among much that is almost worthless, there are happily
preserved many poems, sometimes by unknown poets, of great and
enduring beauty. We have already drawn attention (p. 96) to _Tottel’s
Miscellany_ (1557), which contained, among other poems, the pieces of
Wyat and Surrey. Other volumes are _The Paradyse of Daynty Devises_
(1576), _A Handfull of Pleasant Delites_ (1584), _The Phœnix Nest_
(1593), and _The Passionate Pilgrim_ (1599). The last book contains
poems by Shakespeare, Marlowe, and Ralegh. The most important of the
miscellanies is _England’s Helicon_ (1600), which surpasses all others
for fullness, variety, and excellence of contents.

PRE-SHAKESPEARIAN DRAMA: THE UNIVERSITY WITS

In the last chapter we gave a summary of the rise of the English
drama; it is now necessary to give an account of the early Elizabethan
playwrights.

The name “University Wits” is usually applied to a group of young
men, nearly all of whom were associated with Oxford or Cambridge, who
did much to found the Elizabethan school of drama. They were all more
or less acquainted with each other, and most of them led irregular
and stormy lives. Their plays had several features in common. These
features were of a nature almost inevitable in strong and immature
productions.

(_a_) There was a fondness for heroic themes, such as the lives of
great figures like Mohammed and Tamburlaine.

(_b_) Heroic themes needed heroic treatment: great fullness and
variety; splendid descriptions, long swelling speeches, the handling of
violent incidents and emotions. These qualities, excellent when held in
restraint, only too often led to loudness and disorder.

(_c_) The style also was “heroic.” The chief aim was to achieve strong
and sounding lines, magnificent epithets, and powerful declamation.
This again led to abuse and to mere bombast, mouthing, and in the worst
cases to nonsense. In the best examples, such as in Marlowe, the result
is quite impressive. In this connection it is to be noted that the best
medium for such expression was blank verse, which was sufficiently
elastic to bear the strong pressure of these expansive methods.

(_d_) The themes were usually tragic in nature, for the dramatists
were as a rule too much in earnest to give heed to what was considered
to be the lower species of comedy. The general lack of real humor in
the early drama is one of its most prominent features. Humor, when
it is brought in at all, is coarse and immature. Almost the only
representative of the writers of real comedies is Lyly, who in such
plays as _Alexander and Campaspe_ (1584), _Endymion_ (1592), and _The
Woman in the Moon_ gives us the first examples of romantic comedy.

=1. George Peele (1558–98)= was born in London, educated at Christ’s
Hospital and at Oxford, and became a literary hack and free-lance in
London. His plays include _The Araygnement of Paris_ (1581), a kind
of romantic comedy; _The Famous Chronicle of King Edward the First_
(1593), a rambling chronicle-play; _The Old Wives’ Tale_ (1595), a
clever satire on the popular drama of the day; and _The Love of King
David and Fair Bethsabe_ (published 1599). Peele’s style can be violent
to the point of absurdity; but he has his moments of real poetry; he
can handle his blank verse with more ease and variety than was common
at the time; he is fluent; he has humor and a fair amount of pathos. In
short, he represents a great advance upon the earliest drama, and is
perhaps the most attractive among the playwrights of the time.

We give a short example to illustrate the poetical quality of his blank
verse:

_David._ Now comes my lover tripping like the roe,
And brings my longings tangled in her hair.
To ’joy her love I’ll build a kingly bower,
Seated in hearing of a hundred streams,
That, for their homage to her sovereign joys,
Shall, as the serpents fold into their nests,
In oblique turnings wind the nimble waves
About the circles of her curious walks,
And with their murmur summon easeful sleep
To lay his golden sceptre on her brows.
_The Love of King David and Fair Bethsabe_

=2. Robert Greene (1560–92)= wrote much and recklessly, but his
plays are of sufficient merit to find a place in the development of
the drama. He was born at Norwich, educated at Cambridge (1575) and
at Oxford (1588), and then took to a literary life in London. If all
accounts, including his own, are true, his career in London must have
taken place in a sink of debauchery. He is said to have died, after
an orgy in a London ale-house, “of a surfeit of pickle herringe and
Rennish wine.”

Here we can refer only to his thirty-five prose tracts, which are
probably the best of his literary work, for they reveal his intense
though erratic energy, his quick, malicious wit, and his powerful
imagination. His plays number four: _Alphonsus, King of Arragon_
(1587), an imitation of Marlowe’s _Tamburlaine_; _Friar Bacon and
Friar Bungay_ (1589), easily his best, and containing some fine
representations of Elizabethan life; _Orlando Furioso_ (1586), adapted
from an English translation of Ariosto; and _The Scottish Historie of
James the Fourth_ (acted in 1592), not a “historical” play, but founded
on an imaginary incident in the life of the King. Greene is weak in
creating characters, and his style is not of outstanding merit; but his
humor is somewhat genial in his plays, and his methods less austere
than those of the other tragedians.

=3. Thomas Nash (1567–1601)= was born at Lowestoft, educated
at Cambridge, and then (1586) went to London to make his living by
literature. He was a born journalist, but in those days the only scope
for his talents lay in pamphleteering. He took an active part in the
political and personal questions of the day, and his truculent methods
actually landed him in jail (1600). He finished Marlowe’s _Dido_,
but his only surviving play is _Summer’s Last Will and Testament_
(1592), a satirical masque. His _Jack Wilton, or The Unfortunate
Traveller_ (1594), a prose tale, is important in the development of
the novel (see p. 336).

=4. Thomas Lodge (1558–1625)= was the son of a Lord Mayor of London,
was educated in London and at Oxford, and studied law. He deserted his
legal studies, took to a literary career, and is said to have been an
actor at one time.

His dramatic work is small in quantity. He probably collaborated with
Shakespeare in _Henry VI_, and with other dramatists, including
Greene. The only surviving play entirely his own is _The Woundes
of Civile War_, a kind of chronicle-play. His pamphleteering was
voluminous and energetic; and he imitated the euphuistic tales of Lyly.

=5. Thomas Kyd (1558–94)= is one of the most important of the
University Wits. Very little is known of his life. He was born in
London, educated (probably) at Merchant Taylors’ School, adopted
a literary career, and became secretary to a nobleman. He became
acquainted with Marlowe, and that brilliant but sinister spirit
enticed him into composing “lewd libels” and “blasphemies.” Marlowe’s
sudden death saved him from punishment for such offenses; but Kyd was
imprisoned and tortured. Though he was afterward released, Kyd soon
died under the weight of “bitter times and privy broken passions.”

Much of this dramatist’s work has been lost. Of the surviving plays
_The Spanish Tragedy_ (about 1585) is the most important. Its horrific
plot, involving murder, frenzy, and sudden death, gave the play a great
and lasting popularity. There is a largeness of tragical conception
about the play that resembles the work of Marlowe, and there are
touches of style that dimly foreshadow the great tragical lines of
Shakespeare. Other plays of Kyd’s are _Soliman and Perseda_ (1588),
_Jeronimo_ (1592), a kind of prologue to _The Spanish Tragedy_, and
_Cornelia_ (1594), a tedious translation from the French.

=6. Christopher Marlowe (1564–93)= is symbolical both of the best
and the worst of his boisterous times. The eldest son of a shoemaker,
he was born at Canterbury, and educated there and at Cambridge. Like
so many more of that day, he adopted literature as a profession, and
became attached to the Lord Admiral’s players. Marlowe’s great mental
powers had in them a twist of perversity, and they led him into many
questionable actions and beliefs. He became almost the pattern of the
evil ways of his tribe. Charges of atheism and immorality were laid
against him, and only his sudden death saved him from the experiences
of his friend Kyd. Marlowe is said to have met his death in a tavern
brawl, “stabbed to death by a bawdy servingman, a rival of his in his
lewde love.” In fairness to the memory of Marlowe it must be remembered
that these charges were made against him by the Puritanical opponents
of the stage.

With Marlowe’s tragedies we at length come within measureable distance
of Shakespeare. The gulf between the work of the two men is still very
great. In Marlowe there is none of that benign humanity that clings to
even the grimmest of Shakespeare’s tragedies. Marlowe’s characters
are bleak in nature and massive in outline; enormous and majestical,
but forbidding and almost inhuman. His style has the same qualities:
glowing with a volcanic energy, capable of a mighty soaring line and
phrase (“Marlowe’s mighty line,” as Ben Jonson called it), but diffuse,
truculent, exaggerated, and bombastic. It is a lopsided style lacking
the more amiable qualities of humor, flexibility, sweetness, and
brevity.

His four great plays, all written within a few years, are _Tamburlaine
the Great_ (1587), _Doctor Faustus_ (1588), _The Jew of Malta_ (1589),
and _Edward II_ (1593). All four, in their march of horrors and
splendors, are not unlike one another. The last has a conclusion which
for pity and terror ranks among the great achievements of Elizabethan
tragedy. The plays, moreover, show a progressing dexterity in the
handling of blank verse. Marlowe’s life was pitiably short. If he had
lived there might have been another triumph to chronicle.

He also collaborated with Nash in the tragedy of _Dido_ (1593), and
left uncompleted a poor fragment of a play called _The Massacre at
Paris_.

We give a brief extract to show the “mighty line.” In the passage
Tamburlaine, “the Scourge of God,” mentally reviews his past conquests.

And I have marched along the river Nile
To Machda where the mighty Christian priest,
Called John the Great, sits in a milk-white robe,
Whose triple mitre I did take by force,
And made him swear obedience to my crown,
From thence unto Cazates did I march,
Where Amazonians met me in the field,
With whom, being women, I vouchsafed a league,
And with my power did march to Zanzibar,
The eastern part of Afric, where I viewed
The Ethiopian sea, rivers and lakes,
But neither man nor child in all the land;
Therefore I took my course to Manico,
Where unresisted, I removed my camp,
And by the coast of Byather, at last
I came to Cubar, where the negroes dwell,
And conquering that, made haste to Nubia.
There having sacked Borno, the kingly seat,
I took the king, and led him bound in chains
Unto Damasco, where I stayed before.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564–1616)

=1. His Life.= In considering the life of Shakespeare we have at
our disposal a fair number of facts; but on these facts the industry
of commentators has constructed an additional mass of great magnitude
and complexity. It is therefore the duty of the historian with only
a limited space at his disposal to keep his eye steadily upon the
established facts and, without being superior or disdainful, to turn
toward speculation or surmise, however ingenious or laborious, a face
of tempered but obdurate skepticism.

The future dramatist, as we learn from the church records, was baptized
in the parish church at Stratford-on-Avon on April 26, 1564. He may
have been born on April 23, St. George’s Day, which happens also to
be the date of his death in 1616. His father, John Shakespeare, was a
burgess of the town, and seems to have followed the occupations of a
butcher, a glover, and a farmer. The boy may have attended the grammar
school of the town, though Ben Jonson, himself a competent scholar,
affirmed that Shakespeare knew “small Latin and less Greek.” From
various entries in the town records it is clear that John Shakespeare,
after flourishing for a time, fell on evil days, and the son may have
assisted in the paternal butcher’s shop. A bond dated November 28,
1582, affords clear evidence of Shakespeare’s marriage on that date to
a certain “Anne Hatthwey of Stratford.” As at this time Shakespeare was
only eighteen, and (as appears from the inscription on her monument)
the bride was eight years older, speculation has busied itself over the
somewhat ill-assorted match.

In 1584 Shakespeare left his native town. Why he did so is not known.
The most popular explanation, which appeared after his death, is that
he was convicted of poaching on the estate of a local magnate, Sir
Thomas Lucy, and that he fled to escape the consequences. Then, until
1592, when he reappears as a rising actor, Shakespeare disappears
from view. During this period he is said to have wandered through the
country, finally coming to London, where he performed various menial
offices, including that of holding horses at the stage-door. On the
face of them such tales are not improbable, but they grew up when the
dramatist had become a half-mythical figure.

In 1592 Robert Greene, in a carping book called _A Groatsworth of
Wit_, mentions “an upstart crow ... in his own conceit the only
Shakescene in a country.”[98] This reference, most probably a gibe at
Shakespeare, shows that he is now important enough to merit abuse. In
1595 his name appears on the payroll of the Lord Chamberlain’s company
of actors, who performed at the Court. This company, one of the most
important in the town, also played in the provinces, especially during
the plague of 1603, in the Shoreditch Theatre till it was demolished
in 1598, in the Globe Theatre, and finally (after 1608) in the
Blackfriars. During this period, as can be inferred from his purchases
of property both in London and Stratford, Shakespeare was prospering in
worldly affairs. He was a competent but not a great actor; tradition
asserts that his chief parts were of the type of Adam in _As You Like
It_ and the Ghost in _Hamlet_. His chief function was to write
dramas for his company, and the fruit of such labor was his plays.

About 1610 Shakespeare left London for Stratford, where he stayed at
New Place, a house that he had bought. He may have written his last
plays there; but it is likely that his connection with his company
of actors ceased when the Globe Theatre was burned down during a
performance of _Henry VIII_ in 1613. His will, a hurriedly
executed document, is dated March 25, 1616. His death occurred a month
later, April 23.

=2. His Poems.= Shakespeare’s two long narrative poems were among
the earliest of his writings. _Venus and Adonis_ (1593), composed in
six-line stanzas, showed decided signs of immaturity. Its subject
was in accordance with popular taste; its descriptions were heavily
ornamented and conventional; but it contained individual lines and
expressions of great beauty. Already the hand of Shakespeare was
apparent. _The Rape of Lucrece_ (1594), in rhyme royal stanzas, is of
less merit. As was common in the poetry of that day, the action was
retarded with long speeches, but there were Shakespearian touches all
through. In 1599 a collection of verse called _The Passionate Pilgrim_
appeared with Shakespeare’s name on the title-page. Of the constituent
poems only one, taking its name from the title of the book, has been
decidedly fixed as Shakespeare’s. It consists of some sonnets of
unequal merit.

In 1609 a collection of Shakespeare’s sonnets was printed by Thomas
Thorpe, who dedicated the volume to a certain “Mr. W. H.” as being
“the onlie begetter” of the sonnets. Speculation has exhausted itself
regarding the identity of “Mr. W. H.” The most probable explanation is
that he was William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke. The sonnets themselves
consist of 154 numbers, which are all composed in the English form of
the sonnet, that of three quatrains clenched with a couplet. The entire
collection falls into two groups of unequal size, divided, at number
cxxvi, by a poem of six couplets. The first group consists largely
of a series of cryptic references, often passionately expressed, to
his friendship with a youth, apparently of high rank, who may be,
and probably is, the mysterious “Mr. W. H.” The second group, also
obscurely phrased, is taken up with reproaches addressed to his
mistress, “a black beauty,” whose hair is like “black wires.” The
identity of this “Dark Lady of the Sonnets” is one of the romances of
our literature. She may be, as is often asserted, Mary Fitton, who
happened to be fair; but she probably did not exist at all. Among the
numerous sonneteers of the time it was a common trick to apostrophize
a lovely and fickle mistress, as a rule quite imaginary, and it may be
that Shakespeare was following the custom of the period.

Concerning the literary quality of the sonnets there can be no
dispute. In the depth, breadth, and persistency of their passion,
in their lordly but never overweening splendor of style, and, above
all, in their mastery of a rich and sensuous phraseology, they are
unique. Byron once remarked that the tissue of poetry cannot be all
brilliance, any more than the midnight sky can be entirely stars; but
several of the sonnets (for example, xxx, xxxiii, lv, lxxi, cxvi) are
thick clusters of starlight; and all through the series the frequency
of lovely phrasing is great indeed. We quote one sonnet that is
nearly perfect; the second that we give, after a splendid opening,
deteriorates toward the conclusion.

(1) Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is a star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
_Sonnet cxvi_

(2) When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rime,
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have expressed
Even such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And, for they looked but with divining eyes,
They had not skill enough your worth to sing:
For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
_Sonnet cvi_

Shakespeare’s later poetical work is worthily represented in the
numerous lyrics that are scattered through the plays. It is not quite
certain how much of the songs is original; it is almost certain that
Shakespeare, like Burns, used popular songs as the basis of many of
his lyrics. As they stand, however, the lyrics show a great range of
accomplishment, most of it of the highest quality. It varies from the
nonsense-verses in _Hamlet_ and _King Lear_ to the graceful
perfection of Ariel’s “Full fathom five”; from the homely rusticity
of “It was a lover and his lass” to the scholarly ease and wry humor
of “O mistress mine”; it includes such gems as the willow-song in
_Othello_, “Take, O take those lips away,” in _Measure for
Measure_, and the noble dirge, “Fear no more the heat o’ the
sun,” in _Cymbeline_. If Shakespeare had not been our greatest
dramatist, he would have taken a place among our greatest lyrical poets.

=3. His Plays.= Concerning the plays that are usually accepted
as being Shakespeare’s, almost endless discussion has arisen. In the
following pages we shall indicate the main lines of Shakesperian
criticism.

(_a_) THE ORDER OF THE PLAYS. All the manuscripts of the plays have
perished; Shakespeare himself printed none of the texts; and though
eighteen of them appeared singly in quarto form during his lifetime,
they were all unauthorized editions. It was not till 1623, seven
years after his death, that the First Folio edition was printed. It
contained thirty-six dramas (_Pericles_ was omitted), and these are now
universally accepted as Shakespeare’s. In the Folio edition the plays
are not arranged chronologically, nor are the dates of composition
given. The dates of the separate Quartos are registered at Stationers’
Hall, but these are the dates of the printing. With such scanty
evidence to hand to assign the order of the plays, a task fundamental
to all discussion of the dramas, much ingenious deductive work has been
necessary. The evidence can be divided into three groups.

(1) _Contemporary References._ With one important exception, such
are of little value. The exception occurs in a book by Francis Meres
(1565–1647), an Elizabethan schoolmaster. In _Palladis Tamia, Wit’s
Treasury_ (1598) he gives a list of contemporary authors, among whom is
Shakespeare. Meres mentions twelve of Shakespeare’s plays, along with
“his _Venus and Adonis_, his _Lucrece_, and his sugred sonnets among
his private friends.” This valuable reference supplies us with a list
of plays which were written before 1598.

(2) _Internal References._ In the course of the plays there occur
passages, more or less obscure, that can be traced to contemporary
events. Such are the references to “the imperial votaress” (perhaps
Elizabeth) in _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_, to “the two-fold balls
and treble sceptres” (perhaps the Union of 1603) in _Macbeth_, and
to a famous eclipse of the moon in the _Sonnets_. Owing to the
invariable obscurity of the passages, this class of evidence should be
used cautiously, but unfortunately it has been made the basis of much
wild theorizing.

(3) _The Literary Evidence._ Soberly examined, and taken strictly
in conjunction with the statement of Meres and the dates of the Quartos
(when these are available), this type of evidence is by far the most
reliable. We can examine the workmanship of the plays, paying attention
to the construction of the plots, the force and originality of the
characters, the standard of style, the metrical dexterity--in short,
the general level of competence. In a general survey of the dramas
no great skill is necessary on the part of the reader to observe a
distinct variation in craftsmanship. By grading the plays according to
their literary development a certain rough approximation of date can be
deduced.

(_b_) THE DATES OF THE PLAYS. The following table, which
to a large extent is the outcome of generations of discussion and
contention, represents a moderate or average estimate of the dates
of the plays. It can be only an approximate estimate, for no exact
decision can ever be possible.

1590

1 _Henry VI_

1591–2

2 _Henry VI_
3 _Henry VI_

1593

_Richard III_
_Edward III_ (in part)
_The Comedy of Errors_

1594

_Titus Andronicus_
_The Taming of the Shrew_
_Love’s Labour’s Lost_
_Romeo and Juliet_

1595

_A Midsummer Night’s Dream_
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona_
_King John_

1596

_Richard II_
_The Merchant of Venice_

1597

1 _Henry IV_

1598

2 _Henry IV_
_Much Ado about Nothing_

1599

_Henry V_
_Julius Cæsar_

1600

_The Merry Wives of Windsor_
_As You Like It_

1601

_Hamlet_
_Twelfth Night_

1602

_Troilus and Cressida_
_All’s Well that Ends Well_

1603

(Theaters closed)

1604

_Measure for Measure_
_Othello_

1605

_Macbeth_
_King Lear_

1606

_Antony and Cleopatra_
_Coriolanus_

1607

_Timon of Athens_ (unfinished)

1608

_Pericles_ (in part)

1609

_Cymbeline_

1610

_The Winter’s Tale_

1611

_The Tempest_

1613

_The Two Noble Kinsmen_ (in part)
_Henry VIII_ (in part)

(_c_) CLASSIFICATION OF THE PLAYS. It is customary to group the plays
into sets that to some extent traverse the order given above.

(1) _The Early Comedies._ In these plays there is a certain amount of
immaturity: the plots show less originality; the characters are less
finished; the power of the style is less sustained; the humor is often
puerile and quibbling; and there is a large amount of prose. Of this
type are _The Comedy of Errors_, _Love’s Labour’s Lost_, and _The Two
Gentlemen of Verona_.

(2) _The Histories._ These show an advance, particularly in style.
There is more blank verse, which, though it is often stiffly imitative
of the older playwrights, abounds in splendid passages. The appearance
of such characters as Falstaff in _Henry IV_ and other plays is a sign
of growing strength.

(3) _The Tragedies._ The great tragedies, such as _Hamlet_, _Macbeth_,
and _King Lear_, are the climax of Shakespearian art. They reveal the
best of his characterization and the full power of his style.

(4) _The Later Comedies._ A mellowed maturity is the chief feature of
this group, which contains _Cymbeline_, _The Winter’s Tale_, and _The
Tempest_. The creative touch of the dramatist, making living men out
of figment, is abundantly in view; the style is notable and serenely
adequate; and with the ease of the master the author thoroughly subdues
the meter to his will. No more fitting conclusion--rich, ample, and
graciously dignified--could be found to round off the work of our
greatest literary genius.

=4. His Prose.= Shakespeare’s prose appears all through the plays,
sometimes in passages of considerable length. In the aggregate
the amount is quite large. In the earlier comedies the amount is
considerable, but the proportion is apt to diminish in the later
plays. With regard to the prose, the following points should be
observed: (_a_) it is the common vehicle for comic scenes, though
used too in serious passages (one of which is given below); (_b_) it
represents the common speech of the period, and some of it, as can be
seen in _Hamlet_, is pithy and bracing. Even the rather stupid clowning
that often takes place cannot altogether conceal its beauty.

We quote a passage from _Hamlet_. The style is quite modern in phrase,
and the beauty and grace of it are far beyond the ordinary standard of
Shakespeare’s literary contemporaries.

I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth,
forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to
me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air,
look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof
fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me
but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece
of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculty!
in form, in moving, how express and admirable! in action how
like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of
the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this
quintessence of dust?
_Hamlet_

=5. Features of his Plays.= The extent, variety, and richness of the
plays are quite bewildering as one approaches them. All that can be
done here is to set down in order some of the more obvious of their
qualities.

(_a_) _Their Originality._ In the narrowest sense of the term,
Shakespeare took no trouble to be original. Following the custom of
the time, he borrowed freely from older plays (such as _King Leir_),
chronicles (such as Holinshed’s), and tales (such as _The Jew_, the
part-origin of _The Merchant of Venice_). To these he is indebted
chiefly for his plots; but in his more mature work the interest in the
plot becomes subordinate to the development of character, the highest
achievement of the dramatist’s art. He can work his originals deftly:
he can interweave plot within plot, as in _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_;
he can solidify years of history into five acts, as in _King John_ and
_Antony and Cleopatra_; and, as in _Macbeth_, he makes the dust of
history glow with the spirit of his imagination.

(_b_) _Characters._ (1) In sheer _prodigality of output_ Shakespeare
is unrivaled in literature. From king to clown, from lunatic and
demi-devil to saint and seer, from lover to misanthrope--all are
revealed with the hand of the master. Surveying this multitude, one can
only cry out, as Hamlet does, “What a piece of work is man!”

(2) Another feature of Shakespeare’s characterization is his attitude
of _impartiality_. He seems indifferent to good and evil; he has the
eye of the creator, viewing bright and dismal things alike, provided
they are apt and real. In his characters vice and virtue commingle, and
the union is true to the common sense of humanity. Thus the villain
Iago is a man of resolution, intelligence, and fortitude; the murderer
Claudius (in _Hamlet_) shows affection, wisdom, and fortitude; the
peerless Cleopatra is narrow, spiteful, and avaricious; and the beast
Caliban has his moments of ecstatic vision. The list could be extended
almost without limit, but these examples must serve.

(3) Hence follows the _vital force_ that resides in the creations of
Shakespeare. They live, move, and utter speech; they are rounded,
entire, and capable. Very seldom, and that almost entirely in the
earlier plays, he uses the wooden puppets that are the stock-in-trade
of the inferior dramatist. Of such a kind are some of his “heavy”
fathers, like Egeus (in _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_), and his
sentimental lovers, like Orsino (in _Twelfth Night_). Yet, as a rule,
in the hands of Shakespeare the heavy father can develop into such
living beings as the meddlesome old bore Polonius (in _Hamlet_), and
the tediously sentimental lover can become the moody and headstrong
Romeo, or the virile and drolly humorous Orlando (in _As You Like It_).

(_c_) _Meter._ As in all the other features of his work, in meter
Shakespeare shows abnormal range and power. In the earlier plays the
blank verse is regular in beat and pause; there is a fondness for the
stopped and rhymed couplet; and in a few cases the couplet passes
into definite stanza-formation in a manner suggestive of the early
pre-Shakespearian comedies.

_Lysander._ Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?
Scorn and derision never come in tears:
Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,
In their nativity all truth appears.
How can these things in me seem scorn to you,
Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true?
_A Midsummer Night’s Dream_

As Shakespeare becomes more sure of his instrument the verse increases
in ease and dexterity; the cadence is varied; the pause is shifted
to any position in the line. In the later plays there is an especial
fondness for the extra syllable at the end of the line. And before he
finishes he has utterly subdued the meter to his will. In the last line
of the extract now given every foot is abnormal:

_Lear._ And my poor fool is hanged! No, no, no life!
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all? Thou’lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never!
_King Lear_

(_d_) _Style._ For lack of a better name we call Shakespeare’s style
Shakesperian. One can instantly recognize it, even in other authors,
where it is rarely visible. It is a difficult, almost an impossible,
matter to define it. There is aptness and quotability in it: sheaves
of Shakespeare’s expressions have passed into common speech. To a very
high degree it possesses sweetness, strength, and flexibility; and
above all it has a certain inevitable and final felicity that is the
true mark of genius.

The following specimen shows the average Shakespearian style, if such a
thing exists at all. It is not extremely elevated or poetical, but it
is strong, precise, and individual.

If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
Absent thee from felicity awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
To tell my story.
_Hamlet_

Such a style moves easily into the highest flights of poetry:

(1) That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O! it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour.
_Twelfth Night_

(2) _Cleopatra._ Come, thou mortal wretch,

[_To the asp, which she applies to her breast._

With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
Of life at once untie; poor venomous fool,
Be angry, and despatch....

_Charmian._ O eastern star!

_Cleopatra._ Peace, peace!
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep?
_Antony and Cleopatra_

Or it can plumb the depths of terror and despair. The following are the
words of a condemned wretch shivering on the brink of extinction:

Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;
To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprisoned in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendant world; or to be worse than worst
Of those that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling: ’tis too horrible!
_Measure for Measure_

The style lends itself to the serenely ecstatic reverie of the sage:

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
_The Tempest_

It can express, on the other hand, the bitterest cynicism:

But, man, proud man,
Drest in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he’s most assured,
His glassy essence, like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As make the angels weep.
_Measure for Measure_

Or, in prose, Shakespeare can put into words the artless pathos of the
humble hostess of the inn:

_Hostess._ Nay, sure, he’s not in hell: he’s in Arthur’s
bosom, if ever man went to Arthur’s bosom. A’ made a finer end
and went away an it had been any christom child; a’ parted even
just between twelve and one, even at the turning o’ the tide;
for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers
and smile upon his fingers’ ends, I knew that there was but one
way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a’ babbled of green
fields. “How now, Sir John?” quoth I: “what, man! be of good
cheer.” So a’ cried out “God, God, God!” three or four times.
_Henry V_

Shakespeare can rant, and often rants badly; but at its best his
ranting glows with such imaginative splendor that it becomes a thing of
fire and majesty:

His legs bestrid the ocean; his reared arm
Crested the world; his voice was propertied
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,
There was no winter in’t, an autumn ’twas
That grew the more by reaping; his delights
Were dolphin-like, they showed his back above
The element they lived in; in his livery
Walked crowns and crownets, realms and islands were
As plates dropped from his pocket.
_Antony and Cleopatra_

With such a style as this Shakespeare can compass the world of human
emotion, and he does so.

=6. Summary.= “He was the man,” said Dryden, “who of all modern, and
perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul.”

POST-SHAKESPEARIAN DRAMA

In the following section it will be found that, although much of the
work was composed during Shakespeare’s lifetime, the most typical of
the plays appeared after his death. On the whole, moreover, the work
marks a decline from the Shakespearian standard, and so we are probably
justified in calling this type of drama post-Shakespearian.

=1. Ben Jonson (1573–1637)= was born at Westminster, and educated
at Westminster School. His father died before Jonson’s birth, and the
boy adopted the trade of his stepfather, who was a master bricklayer.
Bricklaying did not satisfy him for long, and he became a soldier,
serving in the Low Countries. From this he turned to acting and writing
plays, engaging himself, both as actor and playwright, with the Lord
Admiral’s company (1597). At first he had little success, and the
discouragement he encountered then must have done much to sour a temper
that was not at any time very genial. In his combative fashion he took
part freely in the squabbles of the time, and in 1598 he killed a
fellow-actor in a duel, narrowly escaping the gallows. On the accession
of James I in 1603 there arose a new fashion for picturesque pageants
known as masques, and Jonson turned his energies to supplying this
demand, with great success. After this period (160315) he commanded
great good-fortune, and during this time his best work was produced. In
1617 he was created poet to the King, and the close of James’s reign
saw Jonson the undisputed ruler of English literature. His favorite
haunt was the Mermaid Tavern, where he reigned as dictator over a
younger literary generation. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, and
over him was placed the epitaph “O rare Ben Jonson!”

Jonson’s works, extremely voluminous and of varying merit, can be
classified for convenience into comedies, tragedies, masques, and
lyrics. His one considerable prose work, a kind of commonplace book, to
which he gave the curious name of _Timber_, is of much interest, but
does not affect his general position.

He began with the comedy _Every Man in his Humour_, which was written
in 1598; then followed _Every Man out of His Humour_ (1599), _Cynthia’s
Revels_ (1600), and _The Poetaster_ (1601). These earliest comedies
are rather tedious in their characters, for they emphasize unduly
the “humor” or peculiar characteristic of each individual. They are,
however, ingenious in plot, rich in rugged and not entirely displeasing
fun, and full of vivacity and high spirits. The later group of comedies
shows a decided advance. The characters are less angular, livelier,
and much more convincing; the style is more matured and equable. Such
comedies, perhaps the best of all Jonson’s dramatic work, are _Volpone,
or The Fox_ (1605), _Epicene, or The Silent Woman_ (1609), and _The
Alchemist_ (1610). His last comedies are lighter and more farcical, and
show less care and forethought. They include _Bartholomew Fair_ (1614),
_The Devil Is an Ass_ (1616), and _The Staple of News_ (1625). His last
unfinished play, _The Sad Shepherd_, a pastoral comedy, is unapproached
among his dramas for its combination of sober reflection, lightness
of fancy, and delicacy of touch. In nearly all his comedies Jonson
opened up a vein that was nearly new and was to be very freely worked
by his successors--the comedy of London life and humors, reflecting the
manners of the day.

His two historical tragedies, _Sejanus his Fall_ (1603) and _Catiline
his Conspiracy_ (1611), are too labored and mechanical to be reckoned
as great tragedies, though their author would fain have had them so.
They show immense learning, they have power, variety, and insight, but
they lack the last creative touch necessary to stamp them with reality,
and to give them a living appeal.

As for his masques, they are abundant, graceful, and humorously
ingenious. Into them Jonson introduced the device of the anti-masque,
which parodied the principal theme. The best of them are _The Masque of
Beauty_ (1608), _The Masque of Queens_ (1609), and _Oberon, the Fairy
Prince_ (1611).

The lyrics, which are freely introduced into his plays, and the
elegies, epitaphs, and other occasional pieces, many of which appeared
in a volume called _Underwoods_ (“consisting of divers poems”),
represent Jonson’s work in its sweetest and most graceful phase. His
song, a translation from Philostratus, beginning “Drink to me only with
thine eyes,” is deservedly famous. We cannot resist quoting two brief
but typical pieces:

(1) Have you seen but a bright lillie grow,
Before rude hands have touch’d it?
Have you mark’d but the fall of the snow
Before the soyle hath smutch’d it?
Have you felt the wooll of the bever?
Or swan’s downe ever?
Or have smelt of the bud of the brier?
Or the nard on the fire?
Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she!
_The Triumph_

(2) Underneath this sable hearse
Lies the subject of all verse,
Sidney’s sister, Pembroke’s mother:
Death, ere thou hast slain another,
Learned, and fair, and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee!
_Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke_[99]

In the estimation of his own age Jonson stood second to none; to
a later generation he is overshadowed by the towering bulk of
Shakespeare. But even the enormous prestige of Shakespeare cannot or
ought not to belittle the merits of Jonson. Of Jonson we can justly
say that he had all good literary gifts except one, and that the
highest and most baffling of all--true genius. He had learning--perhaps
too much of it; industry and constancy well beyond the ordinary;
versatility; a crabbed and not unamiable humor, diversified with
sweetness, grace, and nimbleness of wit; and a style quite adequate to
his needs. But the summit of it all--the magical phrase that catches
the breath, the immortal spirit that creates out of words and buckram
“forms more real than living man”--these were lacking; and without
these he cannot join the circle of the very great.

=2. Francis Beaumont (1584–1616)= and =John Fletcher (1575–1625)=
combined to produce a great number of plays, said to be fifty-two in
all. How much of the joint work is to be assigned to the respective
hands is not accurately known.

The elder, Fletcher, was a cousin of Giles and Phineas Fletcher (see
(p. 101), and was born at Rye, Sussex. He was educated at Cambridge,
and lived the life of a London literary man. He died of the plague
in 1625. His colleague Beaumont, who was probably the abler of the
two, was the son of a judge, Sir Francis Beaumont, was educated at
Oxford, and entered the Inner Temple (1600), but was captivated by
the attractions of a literary life. He died almost within a month of
Shakespeare, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

They excelled in comedy, especially in the comedy of London life.
Theirs is not the heavy “humorous” comedy of Jonson, but is lighter
and more romantic. Their characters are slighter, but more pleasing
and human; their humor is free and genial, and their representation of
contemporary life is happy and attractive. Their plots are ingenious
and workmanlike, and their incidents numerous and striking. Their
style shows a distinct decline from the high standard of Shakespeare.
They have a greater fondness for prose, their blank verse is looser and
weaker, but they are capable of poetical lines and phrases. Typical
comedies are _A King and No King_ (1611), esteemed by Dryden the
best of them all, _The Knight of the Burning Pestle_ (1611), a very
agreeable farce, and _The Scornful Lady_ (1616). Their tragedies, such
as _The Maid’s Tragedy_ (1619), _Philaster_ (1620), suggesting _Twelfth
Night_, and _The Faithful Shepherdess_ (by Fletcher alone), are not
too tragical, and they are diversified by attractive incidents and
descriptions.

=3. George Chapman (1559–1634)= was born at Hitchin. Beyond this
fact little is known of him. He took part in the literary life of his
time, for his name appears in the squabbles of his tribe. He died in
London.

His first play, _The Blind Beggar of Alexandria_ (1596) was followed by
many more, both comical and tragical. Among them are _Bussy d’Ambois_
(1597), _Charles, Duke of Byron_ (1608), and _The Tragedie of Chabot_
(1639). These are historical plays, dealing with events nearly
contemporary with his own time. Chapman’s comedies include _All Fools_
(1605) and _Eastward Hoe!_ (1605), in the latter of which he combined
with Jonson and Marston. Chapman writes agreeably and well; he has
firmness, competence, and variety, and his comic and tragic powers are
considerable. His translation of _Homer_ has something of the pace and
music of the original.

=4. John Marston (1575–1634)= was born at Coventry, was educated
there and at Oxford, became a literary figure in London, and later
took orders. Latterly he resigned his living in Hampshire, and died in
London.

Marston specialized in violent and melodramatic tragedies, which do not
lack a certain impressiveness, but which are easily parodied and no
less easily lead to abuse. They impressed his own generation, who rated
him with Jonson. For a later age they are spoiled to a great extent
by exaggeration, rant, and excessive speeches. Typical of them are
_Antonio and Mellida_ (1602) and _Antonio’s Revenge_ (1602), which were
ridiculed by Jonson in _The Poetaster_.

=5. Thomas Dekker (1570–1641)= was born in London, where his life was
passed as a literary hack and playwright. His plays, chiefly comedies,
have an attraction quite unusual for the time. They have a sweetness,
an arch sentimentality, and an intimate knowledge of common men and
things that have led to his being called the Dickens of the Elizabethan
stage. His plots are chaotic, and his blank verse, which very
frequently gives place to prose, is weak and sprawling. The best of his
plays are _Old Fortunatus_ (1600), _The Shoemaker’s Holiday_ (1600),
and _Satiromastix_ (1602). He collaborated with other playwrights,
including Ford and Rowley, with whom he wrote _The Witch of Edmonton_
(about 1633), and Massinger, in _The Virgin Martyr_ (1622).

=6. Thomas Middleton (1570–1627)= was born in London, wrote much for
the stage, and in 1620 was made City Chronologer.

He is one of the most equable and literary of the dramatists of the
age; he has a decided fanciful turn; he is a close observer and critic
of the life of the time, and a dramatist who on a few occasions can
rise to the heights of greatness. His most powerful play, which has
been much praised by Lamb and others, is _The Changeling_ (1624);
others are _Women beware Women_ (1622), _The Witch_, which bears a
strong resemblance to _Macbeth_, and _The Spanish Gipsy_ (1623), a
romantic comedy suggesting _As You Like It_. Along with Dekker he wrote
_The Roaring Girle, or Moll Cutpurse_ (1611), which is a close dramatic
parallel to the earliest novels.

=7. Thomas Heywood (1575–1650)= was born in Lincolnshire about 1575,
was educated at Cambridge, and became an author and dramatist in
London. He himself asserts that he had a hand (“or at least a main
finger”) in two hundred and twenty plays, of which twenty-three survive.

Like so many more dramatists of the time, he excelled in his pictures
of London life and manners. He was a rapid and light improviser,
an expert contriver of stage situations, but otherwise content with
passable results, and caring little about the higher flights of the
dramatist. His best play is _A Woman Killed with Kindnesse_ (1603),
which contains some strongly pathetic scenes; _The English Traveller_
(1633) is only slightly inferior. Other plays of his are _The Royall
King_ (1600), _The Captives_ (1624), and a series of clumsy historical
dramas, including _King Edward the Fourth_ (1600) and _The Troubles of
Queene Elizabeth_ (1605).

=8. John Webster=, who flourished during the first twenty years of the
seventeenth century, excels his fellows as a tragical artist. Next to
nothing is known regarding his life, and much of his work has been
lost, but what remains is sufficient to show that he was a writer of no
mean ability. Selecting themes of gloomy and supernatural horror, of
great crimes and turbulent emotions and desires, he rises to the height
of his argument with an ability equal to his ambition. In several
respects--in bleak horror and in largeness of tragical conception--he
resembles Marlowe; but he is terse and precise when Marlowe is simply
turgid; his plots have the inexorable march of Fate itself; and he
far excels Marlowe in brief and almost blinding flashes of sorrow and
pity. His two great plays are _The White Devil_ (1612) and _The Duchess
of Malfy_ (1623). Other and inferior plays ascribed to him are _The
Devil’s Law Case_ (1623) and _Appius and Virginia_.

=9. Cyril Tourneur= (1575–1626) seems to have been a soldier and
to have served in the Low Countries. He took part in Buckingham’s
disastrous expedition to Cadiz, and on his return died in Ireland.

In the work of Tourneur we have horrors piled on horrors. His two plays
_The Revenger’s Tragedy_ (1600) and _The Atheist’s Tragedy_ (1611) are
melodramatic to the highest degree. He attempts much, but achieves
little. He does not lack a certain poetic sensibility; but he lacks
grip, method, and balance, and he is weakest where Webster is strongest.

THE ENGLISH BIBLE: THE AUTHORIZED VERSION

In the last chapter we indicated the growth of the Bible from the
earliest to Reformation times. The task of translation was completed by
the issue of _King James’s Bible_, or the _Authorized Version_ (1611).

The need for a standard text was urged during the conference between
the dissentient sects held at Hampton Court in 1604. James I, who was
present at some stages of the conference, approved of the project.
Forty-seven scholars, including the ablest professorial and episcopal
talent, were appointed for the task; they were divided into six
companies, each receiving a certain portion of the Biblical text for
translation; each company revised the work of its fellow-translators.
The task, begun in 1607, was completed in 1611. Since that date little
of sufficient authority has been done to shake the Authorized Version’s
dominating position as the greatest of English translations.

It may be of use here to set down some of the more obvious features of
this great work.

=1.= With regard to the actual work of =translation=, it ought to be
regarded simply as the climax of a long series of earlier translations.
The new translators came to handle a large mass of work already in
existence. All the debatable ground in the texts had been fought
over again and again, and in a dim fashion a standard was emerging.
The translators themselves acknowledge this in the preface to their
work: their task, they say, is “to make a good one better, or out of
many good ones one principal good one.” In other words, their task
was largely one of selection and amendment. The reliance upon earlier
work resulted in a certain old-fashioned flavor that was felt even in
Jacobean times. “It is not the English,” says Hallam, “of Daniel or
Ralegh or Bacon.... It abounds, especially in the Old Testament, in
obsolete phraseology.” It is a tribute to the compelling power and
beauty of the Authorized Version that its archaisms have long been
accepted as permissible, and even inevitable. Allowing, however, for
all the reliance upon earlier work, one cannot overpraise the sound
judgment, the artistic taste, and the sensitive ear of every member of
the band who built up such a stately monument to our tongue.

=2. Diversity of the Work.= One can best appreciate the vastness
and complexity of the Bible by recollecting that it is not a single
book, but an entire literature, or even two literatures, for both
in time and temper the New Testament is separated from the Old.
The different books of the Bible were composed at widely different
times, and many hands worked at them. Their efforts resulted in a
huge collection of all the main species of literature--expository,
narrative, and lyrical. These will be noticed in their order below.

=3. Unity of the Work.= If the Bible were a collection of discordant
elements it would not possess its peculiar literary attraction. In
spite of the diversity of its sources it has a remarkable uniformity
of treatment and spirit. The core and substance of the entire work
is the belief and delight in the Divine Spirit; and, added to this,
especially in the Old Testament, a fiery faith in the pre-eminence of
the Jewish race. With regard to the literary style, from cover to cover
it is almost unvaried: firm, clear, simple, dignified, and thoroughly
English. It represents the broad and stable average of the labors of
generations of devout and ardent men; and it endureth unshaken.

=4. The Expository Portions.= Considered from the purely literary
point of view, the expository parts (that is, those that contain
exhortation, information, or advice) are of least importance. In
bulk they are considerable, and include the Book of Deuteronomy in
the Old Testament and the Pauline Epistles in the New. They have all
the distinction of the Biblical style, and they are expressed with
clearness, dignity, and precision.

=5.= The =narrative portions= include the bulk of the Bible, and
are of great literary interest and value. In the Old Testament they
comprise the Pentateuch and many other books, and in the New Testament
they include the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles. The tone of
the Old Testament differs somewhat from that of the New. As can be
supposed, the former is often harsher in note, and is sometimes
confused and contradictory (from the unsatisfactory condition of some
of the texts); the New Testament narrative, which came under the
influence of the Greek, is more scholarly and liberal in tone. Both,
however, have a breadth, solidity, and noble austerity of style that
make the Biblical narrative stand alone. It is perhaps unnecessary to
quote, but one short specimen may not be out of place:

Then took they him, and led him, and brought him into the high
priest’s house. And Peter followed afar off.

And when they had kindled a fire in the midst of the hall, and
were set down together, Peter sat down among them.

But a certain maid beheld him as he sat by the fire, and
earnestly looked upon him, and said, This man was also with him.

And he denied him, saying, Woman, I know him not.

And, after a little while, another saw him, and said, Thou art
also of them. And Peter said, Man, I am not.

And about the space of one hour after, another confidently
affirmed, saying, Of a truth this fellow also was with him; for
he is a Galilean.

And Peter said, Man, I know not what thou sayest. And
immediately, when he yet spake, the cock crew.

And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered
the word of the Lord, how he had said unto him, Before the cock
crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.

And Peter went out, and wept bitterly.
_St. Luke_

=6. The Lyrical Portions.= These (which include the Psalms, the
Song of Solomon, much of the Book of Job, and the frequent passages,
such as the song of Sisera, which occur in the narrative books) are
perhaps the most important as literature. In addition to their native
shrewdness and persistence, the Jews had a strongly emotional strain,
which finds wide expression in the Bible. Their poetry, like that
of the Old English, was rhythmic; it went by irregularly distributed
beats or accents. The English translators to a large extent preserved
the Jewish rhythms, adding to them the music, the cadence, the soar
and the swing of ecstatic English prose. In theme Jewish poetry is
the primitive expression of simple people regarding the relations of
man and God and the universe. Its similes and metaphors are based
upon simple elemental things--the heavens, the running water, and
the congregations of wild beasts. The emotions are mystically and
rapturously expressed, and convey the impression of much earnestness.
The following extract is fairly typical of its kind:

As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul
after thee, O God.

My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come
and appear before God?

My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually
say unto me, Where is thy God?

When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me: for I
had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of
God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that
kept holyday.

Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted
in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help
of his countenance.
_The Book of Psalms_

=7. The Influence of the Bible.= The English Bible has been a potent
influence in our literature. Owing largely to their poetical or
proverbial nature, multitudes of Biblical expressions have become woven
into the very tissue of the tongue: “a broken reed,” “the eleventh
hour,” “a thorn in the flesh,” “a good Samaritan,” “sweat of the brow,”
and so on. More important, probably, is the way in which the style
affects that of many of our greatest writers. The influence is nearly
all for the good; for a slight strain of the Biblical manner, when kept
artistically within bounds, imparts simplicity, dignity, and elevation.
Bunyan shows the style almost undiluted; but in the works of such
widely diverse writers as Ruskin, Macaulay, Milton, and Tennyson the
effects, though slighter, are quite apparent.

FRANCIS BACON, BARON VERULAM, VISCOUNT ST. ALBANS (1561–1626)

=1. His Life.= Bacon was born in London, the son of Sir Nicholas
Bacon, the Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. The family was connected
with the Cecils and other political magnates of the time. Bacon was
a delicate youth, and for a time he was educated privately; then he
proceeded to Cambridge, and thence entered Gray’s Inn (1576). To
complete his education he spent three years in France. On his being
called to the Bar his family influence helped him to acquire a fair
practice; but Bacon was ambitious and longed for the highest rewards
that his profession could bestow. He became a member of Parliament
in 1584, but the recognition that he expected from the Queen did
not come his way, hard though he fought for it. He assisted in the
prosecution of the Earl of Essex, a nobleman who had befriended
him earlier in his career. Essex, an injudicious man, had involved
himself in a charge of treason, and the ingenuity of Bacon was largely
instrumental in bringing him to the block. On the accession of James
I Bacon, who was never remiss in urging his own claims to preferment,
began to experience prosperity, for he was tireless in urging the
royal claims before Parliament. He was made a knight in 1603, and
Attorney-General in 1613. In the latter capacity he was James’s chief
agent in asserting and enforcing the King’s theories of divine right,
and he became thoroughly unpopular with the House of Commons. His
reward came in 1618, when he was appointed Lord Chancellor and created
Baron Verulam, and in 1621, when he became Viscount St. Albans. Popular
dissatisfaction was mounting against the King and his agents, and when
Parliament met in 1620 it laid charges of bribery and corrupt dealings
against the Lord Chancellor. Bacon quailed before the storm; made what
amounted to a confession of guilt; and was subjected to the huge fine
of £40,000 (which was partially remitted), imprisonment during the
King’s pleasure (which was restricted to four days in the Tower of
London), and exile from Court and office. He spent the last five years
of his life in the pursuit of literary and scientific works.

=2. His Works.= Bacon wrote both in Latin and English, and of the
two he considered the Latin works to be the more important.

(_a_) His English works include his _Essays_, which first appeared
in 1597. Then they numbered ten; but the second (1612) and third
(1625) editions raised the number to thirty-eight and fifty-eight
respectively. They are on familiar subjects, such as Learning,
Studies, Vainglory, and Great Place; and in method they represent
the half-casual meditations of a trained and learned mind. His other
English works were _The Advancement of Learning_ (1605), containing the
substance of his philosophy; _Apophthegms_ (1625), a kind of jest-book;
and _The New Atlantis_, left unfinished at his death, a philosophical
romance modeled upon More’s _Utopia_.

(_b_) His Latin works were to be fashioned into a vast scheme, which he
called _Instauratio Magna_, expounding his philosophical theories. It
was laid out on the following plan, but it was scarcely half finished:

(1) _De Augmentis Scientiarum_ (1623). This treatise, in which
the English work on the _Advancement of Learning_ is embodied,
gives a general summary of human knowledge, taking special
notice of gaps and imperfections in science.

(2) _Novum Organum_ (1620). This work explains the new logic,
or inductive method of reasoning, upon which his philosophy is
founded. Out of the nine sections into which he divides the
subject the first only is handled with any fullness, the other
eight being merely named.

(3) _Sylva Sylvarum_ (left incomplete). This part was designed
to give a complete view of what we call Natural Philosophy and
Natural History. The subjects he has touched on under this head
are four--the History of Winds, Life and Death, Density and
Rarity, Sound and Hearing.

(4) _Scala Intellectus._ Of this we have only a few of the
opening pages.

(5) _Prodromi._ A few fragments only were written.

(6) _Philosophia Secunda._ Never executed.

=3. His Style.= Of Bacon as a philosopher we can only say that he is
one of the founders of modern systematic thought. His most important
literary work is his _Essays_. In its three versions this work shows
the development of Bacon’s English style. In the first edition the
style is crisp, detached, and epigrammatic, conveying the impression
that each essay has arisen from some happy thought or phrase, around
which other pithy statements are agglomerated. In the later editions
the ideas are expanded, the expression loses its spiky pointedness,
and in the end we have an approach to a freer middle style, an
approximation to the swinging manner of Dryden. Bacon had no ear
for rhythm and melody; a born rhetorician, he preferred the sharper
devices of antithesis and epigram; and he was always clear, orderly,
and swiftly precise in his phrasing. Following the fashion of the
time, he was free in his use of allusions, conceits, and Latin tags,
creating rather a garish ornamental effect; but his style is saved from
triviality by his breadth of intellect, by his luminous intensity of
ideas, and by his cool man-of-the-world sagacity.

For the sake of comparison we quote the same extract from the first and
third editions of the _Essays_. The second extract, it will be
noticed, is a studied expansion of the first.

(1) Crafty men contemn them, simple men admire them, wise men
use them; for they teach not their own use, but that is a wisdom
without them and above them won by observation. Read not to
contradict nor to believe, but to weigh and consider. Some books
are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be
chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only
in parts, others to be read but cursorily, and some few to be
read wholly and with diligence and attention. Reading maketh
a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man.
And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great
memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit;
and if he read little, he had need have much cunning to seem to
know that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty; the
mathematics subtle; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic
and rhetoric able to contend.

(2) Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and
wise men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that
is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation.
Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take
for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and
consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed,
and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books
are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not
curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence
and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and
extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in
the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books;
else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy
things. Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and
writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he
had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need
have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much
cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men
wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtile; natural philosophy
deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend.
_Of Studies_

OTHER PROSE-WRITERS

=1. Roger Ascham (1515–68)= is representative of the earliest school of
Elizabethan prose. He was born in Yorkshire, and educated privately and
at St. John’s College, Cambridge, where he became a Fellow (1535) and
a teacher of Greek (1540). He took part in the literary and religious
disputes of the time, but managed to keep his feet on the shifting
grounds of politics. He was appointed tutor to Elizabeth (1548) and
secretary to Queen Mary; he visited the Continent as secretary to an
embassy; and ultimately was appointed a canon of York Minster.

His two chief works were _Toxophilus_ (1544), a treatise, in the
form of a dialogue, on archery; and _The Scholemaster_ (1570), an
educational work containing some ideas that were then fairly fresh
and enlightening. Ascham was a man of moderate literary talent, of
great industry, and of boundless enthusiasm for learning. Though he
is strongly influenced by classical models, he has all the strong
Elizabethan sense of nationality. In _Toxophilus_ he declares his
intention of “writing this English matter in the English speech for
Englishmen.” In style he is plain and strong, using only the more
obvious graces of alliteration and antithesis.

=2. John Lyly (1553–1606)= marks another stage in the march of
English prose. He was born in Kent, educated at Oxford, and, failing to
obtain Court patronage, became a literary man in London. At first he
had considerable success, and entered Parliament; but at a later stage
his popularity declined, and he died poverty-stricken in London.

We have already mentioned his comedies (see p. 105), which at the time
brought him fame and money. But his first prose work, _Euphues,
the Anatomy of Wit_ (1579), made him one of the foremost figures
of the day. He repeated the success with a second part, _Euphues
and his England_ (1580). The work is a kind of travel-romance,
recounting the adventures of Euphues, a young Athenian. The narrative
is interspersed with numerous discussions upon many topics. It was,
however, the style of its prose that gave the book its great vogue. It
is the first consciously fabricated prose style in the language. It
is mannered and affected almost to the point of being ridiculous. Its
tricks are obvious and easily imitated, and they are freely applied
by the next generation: balanced phrases, intricate alliteration,
labored comparisons drawn from classical and other sources, and ornate
epithets. The effect is quaint and not displeasing, but the narrative
labors under the weight of it. It certainly suited the growing literary
consciousness of its day, and hence its pronounced, though temporary,
success.

The following extract will illustrate the euphuistic manner:

Philautus being a town-born child, both for his own countenance,
and the great countenance which his father had while he
lived, crept into credit with Don Ferardo one of the chief
governors of the city, who although he had a courtly crew of
gentlewomen sojourning in his palace, yet his daughter, heir
to his whole revenues stained the beauty of them all, whose
modest bashfulness caused the other to look wan for envy, whose
lily cheeks dyed with a vermilion red, made the rest to blush
for shame. For as the finest ruby staineth the colour of the
rest that be in place, or as the sun dimmeth the moon, that
she cannot be discerned, so this gallant girl more fair than
fortunate, and yet more fortunate than faithful, eclipsed the
beauty of them all, and changed their colours. Unto her had
Philautus access, who won her by right of love, and should have
worn her by right of law, had not Euphues by strange destiny
broken the bonds of marriage, and forbidden the banns of
matrimony.
_Euphues and his England_

=3. Richard Hooker (1553–1600)= was born near Exeter, and educated
at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, where he was elected a Fellow
(1577). In 1582 he took orders, and later was appointed to a living in
Kent, where he died.

His great work, at which he labored during the greater part of his
life, was _The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity_. The first four of
the proposed eight books were issued in 1593; he finished one more;
and though the remaining three were published under his name when he
was dead, it is very doubtful if he was entirely responsible for them.
In the work he supports Episcopacy against Presbyterianism. In style
he is strongly affected by classical writers; but he usually writes
with homeliness and point; his sentences are carefully constructed;
the rhythm moves easily; and there is both precision and melody in his
choice of vocabulary. His style is an early example of scholarly and
accomplished English prose.

=4. Sir Thomas Overbury (1581–1613)= may be taken as typical of a
fairly large class of Elizabethan writers. He was born in Warwickshire,
educated at Oxford, and became a figure at the Court of King James. His
chief friend at Court was James’s favorite Robert Carr, with whom he
quarreled over a love-affair. For this Overbury fell into disfavor, and
was imprisoned in the Tower, where he was poisoned under mysterious and
barbarous circumstances.

Overbury survives in literature as the author of a series of
_Characters_ (1614). Based on the ancient Greek work of Theophrastus,
the book consists of a number of concise character-sketches of
well-known types, such as a Milkmaid, a Pedant, a Franklin, and
“an Affectate Traveller.” The sketches are solely of types, not of
individuals, and so lack any great literary merit. But they are
important for several reasons: they are a curious development of the
pamphlet, which was so common at that time; they are another phase
of the “humours” craze, seen so strongly in the Jonsonian and other
dramas; and they are an important element in the growth of the essay.
In style the book is strongly euphuistic, thus illustrating another
tendency of the time. They were added to and imitated by other writers,
including =John Earle (1601–65)=.

=5. Robert Burton (1577–1640)= was the son of a country gentleman, and
was born in Leicestershire. He was educated at Oxford, where, in holy
orders, he passed most of his life.

His famous work, _The Anatomy of Melancholy_, was first issued in
1621, and then constantly revised and reissued. It is an elaborate and
discursive study of melancholy, its species and kinds, its causes,
results, and cure. The book--labored, saturnine, and fantastic to an
extraordinary degree--has exercised a strong fascination over many
scholarly minds, including those of Dr. Johnson and Charles Lamb. Its
learning is immense and unconventional, being drawn from many rare
authors; its humor curiously crabbed, subdued, and ironical; and its
“melancholy,” though pervading, is not oppressive. The diction, harsh
and unstudied, is rarely obscure; the enormous sentences, packed with
quotation and allusion, are loosely knit. Both as a stylist and as a
personality Burton occupies his own niche in English literature.

=6. The Sermon-writers.= At the beginning of the seventeenth century
the sermon rose to a level of literary importance not hitherto
attained, and afterward rarely equaled. We have already mentioned Donne
(see p. 102), probably the most notable of his group, and we give space
to two other writers.

(_a_) =James Ussher (1581–1656)= was born in Dublin, and was descended
from an ancient Protestant family. He was educated at Trinity College,
Dublin, and rose to be Bishop of Meath and Archbishop of Armagh (1626).
In 1640 he visited England, where, owing to the disturbed state of
Ireland, he had to remain for the remainder of his life. His many
sermons, discourses, and tracts show learning, adroit argument, and a
plain and easy style. His _Chronologia Sacra_ was for a long time the
standard work on Biblical chronology.

(_b_) =Joseph Hall (1574–1656)= was educated at Cambridge, took orders,
and became a prominent opponent of the Puritans, among whom was Milton.
He was appointed Bishop of Exeter (1627) and of Norwich (1641). When
the Puritans rose to power Hall’s opinions brought him into disgrace.
He was imprisoned, and, though liberated, forbidden to preach. He died
in retirement.

Hall’s earliest work was in verse, and consisted of a series of satires
called _Virgidemiarum_ (1597), which were condemned by the Church as
being licentious. His theological and devotional works, the product
of his later years, are very numerous, and include tracts, sermons,
and treatises. Though he is often shallow and voluble, he writes
with literary grace. He is without doubt the most literary of the
theologians of the time.

=7. The Translators.= The zeal for learning which was such a prominent
feature of the early Elizabethan times was strongly apparent in the
frequent translations. This class of literature had several curious
characteristics. The translators cared little for verbal accuracy,
and sometimes were content to translate from a translation, say from
a French version of a Latin text. The translators, moreover, borrowed
from each other, and repeated the errors of their fellows. These habits
deprived their work of any great pretensions to scholarship; but they
were eager adventurers into the new realms of learning, and to a
great extent they reproduced the spirit, if not the letter, of their
originals.

One of the first and most popular of the translations was North’s
_Diall of Princes_ (1557), from an Italian original. North also
translated Plutarch’s _Lives_ (1579), a work that had much influence
upon Shakespeare and other dramatists. Other classical translations
were those of Virgil, done by =Phaer= in 1558 and =Stanyhurst= in
1583, and of Ovid, by =Turberville= in 1567 and by =Chapman= in 1595.
Chapman’s Translation of Homer (1596) is perhaps the most famous of
them all. It is composed in long, swinging lines, and is lively,
audacious, and pleasing.

=8. The Pamphleteers.= All through this period there is a flood of
short tracts on religion, politics, and literature. It was the work of
a host of literary hacks who earned a precarious existence in London.
These men represented a new class of writer. The Reformation had closed
the Church to them; the growth of the universities and of learning
continually increased their numbers. In later times journalism and
its kindred careers supplied them with a livelihood; but at this time
they eked out their existence by writing plays and squabbling among
themselves in the pages of broadsheets.

In its buoyancy and vigor, its quaint mixture of truculence and
petulance, Elizabethan pamphleteering is refreshingly boyish and
alive. It is usually keenly satirical, and in style it is unformed and
uncouth. The most notorious of the pamphleteers were =Thomas Nash
(1567–1601)=, =Robert Greene (1560–92)=, and =Thomas Lodge
(1558–1625)=. We quote a well-known passage from a pamphlet of
Greene, in which he contrives to mingle praise of his friends with sly
gibes at one who is probably Shakespeare. The style is typical of the
pamphlets.

And thou,[100] no less deserving than the other two,[101] in
some things rarer, in nothing inferior; driven (as myself) to
extreme shifts, a little have I to say to thee; and were it
not an idolatrous oath, I would swear by sweet St. George,
thou art unworthy better hap, sith thou dependest on so mean
a stay. Base-minded men all three of you, if by my misery ye
be not warned; for unto none of you (like me) sought those
burs to cleave,--those puppets, I mean,--that speak from our
mouths,--those antics garnished in our colours. Is it not
strange that I, to whom they all have been beholden,--is it not
like that you, to whom they all have been beholden,--shall
(were ye in that case that I am now) be both at once of them
forsaken? Yes, trust them not: for there is an upstart crow,
beautified with our feathers, that with his tiger’s heart wrapt
in a player’s hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast
out a blank-verse as the best of you: and being an absolute
_Johannes factotum_, is in his own conceit the only
Shakescene in a country. Oh, that I might entreat your rare wits
to be employed in more profitable courses, and let those apes
imitate your past excellence, and never more acquaint them with
your admired inventions! I know the best husband of you all
will never prove an usurer, and the kindest of them all will
never prove a kind nurse: yet, whilst you may, seek you better
masters; for it is pity men of such rare wits should be subject
to the pleasures of such rude grooms.
_A Groatsworth of Wit bought with a
Million of Repentance_

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

At the beginning of the Elizabethan age English literary forms were
still to a large extent in the making; at the end of the period there
is a rich and varied store of most of the chief literary species. All
that can be done here is to give the barest outline of this development.

=1. Poetry.= (_a_) _Lyrical Poetry._ The temper of the age was suited
to the lyrical mood, and so the abundance of the lyric is very great.
It begins with the first efforts of Wyat and Surrey (1557); it
continues through the dramas in all their stages; and it appears in
the numerous miscellanies of the period. Then the lyrical impulse is
carried on without a break into the melodies of Campion and the darker
moods of Donne. The forms of the lyric are many, and on the whole its
notes are musical, wild, and natural.

An interesting sub-species of the lyric is the _sonnet_. We have seen
how it took two forms--the Italian or Petrarchan form, and the English
or Shakespearian type. During this period both kinds flourished, the
English kind to a greater degree. Wyat began (1557) with a group of the
Italian type; Surrey introduced the English form. Then the sonnet, in
one or other of its two forms, was continued by Sidney in _Astrophel
and Stella_ (published in 1591), by Spenser, by Shakespeare, by Daniel
in _Delia_ (1592), and by Watson in _Heoatompathia, or Passionate
Century of Sonnets_ (1582). Later in the period the sonnet was less
popular, though Drayton wrote at least one of great power.

(_b_) _Descriptive and Narrative Poetry._ This is a convenient title
for a large and important class of poems. In this period it begins
with such works as Sackville’s _Induction_ (1555), and continues
with Marlowe’s _Hero and Leander_ (1598) and Shakespeare’s _Venus
and Adonis_ (1593) and _The Rape of Lucrece_ (1594). It culminates
in the sumptuous allegorical poetry of Spenser; and it begins its
decline with the Spenserians of the type of the Fletchers and with
Drayton’s _Endimion and Phœbe_ (1600). The pastoral, which is a kind of
descriptive poem, is seen in Spenser’s _Shepherd’s Calendar_ (1579), in
Browne’s _Britannia’s Pastorals_ (1613), and in Drayton. Almost purely
descriptive poetry is represented in Drayton’s _Polyolbion_ (1612);
and a more strongly narrative type is the same poet’s _England’s
Heroical Epistles_ (1597). All these poems are distinguished by strong
descriptive power, freshness of fancy, and sometimes by positive genius
of style.

(_c_) _Religious_, _satirical_, and _didactic poetry_ cannot take
a position equal in importance to the rest. During the period the
satirical intent is quite strong, but it does not produce great poetry.
Gascoigne’s _Steel Glass_ (1576) is one of the earliest satires; and it
is followed by Donne’s _Satires_ (1593) and Hall’s _Satires_ (1597).
Drayton’s _Harmony of the Church_ (1591) is religious in motive; so are
several poems of Donne, and also many of those of the Jesuit =Robert
Southwell (1561–95)=.

=2. Drama.= The opening of the Elizabethan period saw the drama
struggling into maturity. The early type of the time was scholarly in
tone and aristocratic in authorship. An example of the earliest type
of playwright is =Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke (1554–1628)=, who
distinguished himself both as a dramatic and lyrical poet.

To this stage succeeded that of Shakespeare, which covered
approximately the years 1595 to 1615. Of this drama all we can say
here is that it is the crown and flower of the Elizabethan literary
achievement, and embodies almost the entire spirit both of drama and
poetry.

The decline begins with Jonson, and continues with Beaumont and
Fletcher, Dekker, Heywood, and the other dramatists mentioned in this
chapter. The decline is made clear in several ways: in the narrowing
of the ample Shakespearian motive, which comprises all mankind, into
themes of temporary, local, and fragmentary importance; in the lack of
creative power in the characterization, resulting (as in Jonson) in
mere types or “humors,” or (as in Dekker and Fletcher) in superficial
improvisation, or in ponderous tragical figures (as in Webster and
Tourneur); and lastly, in the degradation of the style, which will be
noted below. Sometimes the decline is gilded with delicate fancy, as in
Fletcher’s _Faithful Shepherdess_, or in the exquisite _Parliament of
Bees_ (1607) by =John Day (1574–1640)=; but the grace and charm of such
plays cannot conceal the falling-off in power and imagination.

With regard to the development of the different dramatic types, we have
already noted that tragedy developed first; in Shakespeare all kinds
received attention, tragedy most of all. In post-Shakespearian drama
light comedy was the most popular species, chiefly because the tragic
note of exalted pity had degenerated into melodrama and horrors.

A special word is perhaps necessary on the _masque_, which
during this time had a brief but brilliant career. The masque is
a short dramatic performance composed for some particular festive
occasion, such as the marriage or majority of a great man’s son; it is
distinguished by ornate stage-setting, by lyrics, music, and dancing,
and by allegorical characters. It finds a place in Shakespeare’s
_Tempest_ and other plays; it is strongly developed in the works
of Jonson, Fletcher, and other poets of the time; and it attains its
climax during the next age in the _Comus_ (1637) of Milton.

=3. Prose.= In Elizabethan times the development of prose was
slower and slighter than that of poetry.

(_a_) The _essay_, beginning in the pamphlet, character-sketch, and
other miscellaneous writing, develops in the work of Bacon. Its rise
will be sketched more fully in a future chapter (see p. 268).

(_b_) The _novel_ has some meager but significant beginnings in More’s
_Utopia_ (1516), Sidney’s _Arcadia_ (published in 1590), Lyly’s
_Euphues_ (1579), Bacon’s _New Atlantis_ (1626), and most of all in
Nash’s _The Unfortunate Traveller_ (1594). The rise of the novel is
also reserved for a later chapter (see p. 336).

(_c_) _Miscellaneous prose_, in the pamphlets, theological works,
sermons, translations, travels, and such abnormalities as Burton’s
_Anatomy of Melancholy_ (1621), is exceedingly voluminous and
important. We have here a large, loose, and varied mass of English
prose, the central exercising-ground of the average prose-writer, that
is to be the foundation of many important groups of the future.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE

=1. Poetry.= The period immediately preceding was that of the clumsy
poetry of Hawes, Skelton, and their kind; succeeding it is the strength
and beauty of Elizabethan poetry. Between these two extremes the
different stages of development are fairly well marked.

(_a_) The earliest period (say from 1550–80) is that of Wyat, Surrey,
Sidney, and the University Wits. This is the formative and imitative
period, during which the dependence upon classical originals is
particularly strong. The style has the precision and the erratic
character of the diligent pupil. There are few deliberate innovations,
and lapses into barbarism are not unknown. In this period appear the
sonnet, blank verse, and many of the beautiful lyrical metrical forms.
The lyrical style is least restrained by the influence of classical
models.

(_b_) The Spenserian and Shakespearian stage (from about 1580 to 1615)
is the stage of highest development. The native English genius, having
absorbed the lessons of foreign writers, adds to them the youth and
ardor of its own spirit. The result is a fullness, freshness, and
grandeur of style unequaled in any other period of our literature.
There are the lyrics and allegories of Spenser; the poems, dramas, and
lyrics of Shakespeare; and the innumerable miscellanies, poems, and
plays of other writers. The style is as varied as the poems; but the
universal note is the romantic one of power and ease.

(_c_) In the second decade of the seventeenth century the decline
is apparent. The inspired phraseology, the wealth and flexibility of
vocabulary, and the general bloom of the style pass into the lightness
of fancy and the tinkling unsubstantial verse of the nature of
Campion’s. Or the high seriousness degenerates into the gloomy manner
of the Websterian tragedy. The handling of blank verse is typical of
the movement. The sinewy Shakesperian blank verse becomes nerveless; in
drama prose is commoner in quantity and coarser in fiber. In the lyric
much of the old technical dexterity survives, but the deeper qualities
of passion and sincerity are less common and robust.

=2. Prose.= Unlike that of poetry, the style of prose enjoys a
steady development, continued from the previous age, and maintained
through the Elizabethan age. Euphuism, which appeared early in this
epoch, was a kind of literary measles incidental to early growth, and
it quickly passed away, leaving the general body of English prose
healthier than before. There is an increase in the raw material of
prose in the shape of many foreign words that are imported; there is a
growing expertness in sentence-and paragraph-construction and in the
more delicate graces of style, such as rhythm and melody. The prose
of Hooker and Bacon (in his later stages) represents the furthest
development of the time. Prose style has yet a great deal to learn, but
it is learning fast.

TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

EXERCISES

1. The following extracts illustrate the growth of the English lyric
from earliest times. Arrange the passages approximately in order of
development, adding dates when it seems possible. Write a note on the
style of each, and point out in what respects it is typical of its
author or period.

(1) Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powdered, still perfumed:
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art’s hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.

Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free:
Such sweet neglect more taketh me
Than all the adulteries of art:
They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
JONSON, _Epicene_

(2) Son icche herde that mirie note
Thider I drogh;
I fond her in an herber swot
Under a bough
With joie enough.
Son I asked: “Thou mirie mai
Hwi sinkestou ai?”
_Nou sprinkes the sprai,
All for love icche am so seek
That slepen I ne mai._
_Old Song_

(3) A blissful life thou says I lead;
Thou wouldest know thereof the stage.
Thou wost well when thy Perle con schede,
I was full young and tender of age;
But my Lord the Lomb, through his God-hede,
He took myself to his maryage,
Coround me queen in bliss to brede[111]
In length of dayes that ever shall wage.
And seised in all his heritage
His lef[112] is; I am wholly his;
His praise, his price, and his parage
Is root and ground of all my bliss.
_Pearl_

(4) Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
O sweet content!
Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed?
O punishment!
Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed
To add to golden numbers, golden numbers?
O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
Honest labour bears a lovely face;
Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!

Canst drink the waters of the crisped spring?
O sweet content!
Swim’st thou in wealth, yet sink’st in thine own tears?
O punishment!
Then he that patiently want’s burden bears
No burden bears, but is a king, a king!
O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
Honest labour bears a lovely face;
Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!
DEKKER, _Sweet Content_

2. In the following passages, which illustrate the development of blank
verse, examine the metrical features (such as the scansion, variation
of the pause, and the melody) of each, and mention if any improvement
is apparent.

(1) It was the time when granted from the gods,
The first sleep creeps most sweet in weary folk,
Lo, in my dream before mine eyes, methought
With rueful cheer I saw where Hector stood
(Out of whose eyes gushed streams of tears),
Drawn at a car as he of late had been,
Distained with bloody dust, whose feet were bowl’n[113]
With the strait cords wherewith they haled him.
SURREY, _Æneid_, 1557

(2) That age is dead and vanished long ago,
Which thought that steel both trusty was and true
And needed not a foil of contraries,
But shewed all things even as they were in deed.
In stead whereof, our curious years can find
The crystal glass, which glimpseth brave and bright,
And shews the thing much better far than it,
Beguiled with foils, of sundry subtle sights
So that they seem and covet not to be.
GASCOIGNE, _The Steel Glass_, 1576

(3) _Prospero._ Of the king’s ship
The mariners, say how thou hast disposed
And all the rest o’ the fleet.
_Ariel._ Safely in harbour
Is the king’s ship: in the deep nook, where once
Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex’d Bermoothes, there she’s hid:
The mariners all under hatches stow’d;
Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour,
I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet
Which I dispersed, they all have met again
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d
And his great person perish.
SHAKESPEARE, _The Tempest_, 1611

3. Comment upon the style, meter, and general level of excellence shown
in the following sonnets. Point out any development that is observable.

(1) The sweet season, that bud and bloom forth brings,
With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale.
The nightingale, with feathers new, she sings;
The turtle to her mate hath told her tale;
Summer is come, for every spray now springs.
The hart hath hung his old head on the pale:
The buck in brake his winter coat he flings;
The fishes fleet with new repaired scale;
The adder all her slough away she flings;
The swift swallow pursueth the flies small;
The busy bee her honey how she mings!
Winter is worn, that was the flowers’ bale,
And thus I see among these pleasant things
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.
SURREY, _To Spring_, 1557

(2) Sweet is the rose, but growes upon a brere;
Sweet is the juniper, but sharpe his bough;
Sweet is the eglantine, but pricketh nere,
Sweet is the firbloome, but his braunches rough;
Sweet is the cyprese, but his rynd is tough;
Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill;[114]
Sweet is the broome flowre, but yet sowre enough;
And sweet is moly, but his root is ill;
So, every sweet, with soure is tempred still,
That maketh it be coveted the more:
For easie things that may be got at will
Most sorts of men doe set but little store.
Why then should I accompt of little paine
That endlesse pleasure shall unto me gaine!
SPENSER, _Amoretti_, 1595

(3) Since there’s no help, come, let us kiss and part,--
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free;
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of love’s latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And innocence is closing up his eyes,
--Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou mightest him yet recover!
DRAYTON, 1620

4. Hooker’s is sometimes considered to be the most highly developed of
Elizabethan prose styles. In the following two extracts examine the
vocabulary, sentence-construction, and general competence of the first,
and compare it with the second, which was written about two hundred
years earlier.

(1) Touching musical harmony, whether by instrument or by voice,
it being but of high and low in sounds a due proportionable
disposition, such notwithstanding is the force thereof, and
so pleasing effects it hath in that very part of man which is
most divine, that some have been thereby induced to think
that the soul itself by nature is, or hath in it, harmony; a
thing which delighteth all ages, and beseemeth all states; a
thing as seasonable in grief as in joy; as decent being added
unto actions of greatest weight and solemnity, as being used
when men most sequester themselves from action. The reason
hereof is an admirable facility which music hath to express and
represent to the mind, more inwardly than any other sensible
mean, the very standing, rising and falling, the very steps and
inflections every way, the turns and varieties of all passions
whereunto the mind is subject; yea, so to imitate them, that,
whether it resemble unto us the same state wherein our minds
already are, or a clean contrary, we are not more contentedly by
the one confirmed, than changed and led away by the other. In
harmony, the very image and character even of virtue and vice
is perceived, the mind delighted with their resemblances, and
brought by having them often iterated into a love of the things
themselves. For which cause there is nothing more contagious and
pestilent than some kinds of harmony; than some, nothing more
strong and potent unto good.
HOOKER, _The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity_, 1592

(2) This Emperor Prester John, when he goeth in to battle,
against any other lord, he hath no banners borne before him: but
he hath three crosses of gold, fine, great and high, full of
precious stones: and every of the crosses be set in a chariot,
full richly arrayed. And for to keep every cross, be ordained
ten thousand men of arms, and more than a hundred thousand
men on foot, in manner as men would keep a standard in our
countries, when that we be in land of war. And this number of
folk is without the principal host, and without wings ordained
for the battle. And when he hath no war, but rideth with a privy
retinue, then he hath borne before him but a cross of tree,
without peinture, and without gold or silver or precious stones;
in remembrance, that Jesu Christ suffered death upon a cross of
tree.
MANDEVILLE, _Travels_, 1400

5. In what respects is each of the following extracts typical of
its author and its age? Write a very brief appreciation of the
style of each.

(1) Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.--
Her lips suck forth my soul: see where it flies!
Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here will I dwell, for heaven is in those lips,
And all is dross that is not Helena.
I will be Paris, and for love of thee,
Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sacked;
And I will combat with weak Menelaus,
And wear thy colours on my plumed crest;
Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
And then return to Helen for a kiss.
Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
MARLOWE, _Doctor Faustus_

(2) Iffida, the water standing in her eyes, clasping my hand in
hers, with a sad countenance answered me thus:

“My good Fidus, if the increasing of my sorrows, might mitigate
the extremity of thy sickness, I could be content to resolve
myself into tears to rid thee of trouble: but the making of a
fresh wound in my body is nothing to the healing of a festered
sore in thy bowels: for that such diseases are to be cured
in the end, by the names of their original. For as by basil
the scorpion is engendered and by the means of the same herb
destroyed: so love which by time and fancy is bred in an idle
head, is by time and fancy banished from the heart: or as the
salamander which, being a long space nourished in the fire,
at the last quencheth it, so affection having taken hold of
the fancy, and living as it were in the mind of the lover, in
tract of time altereth and changeth the heat, and turneth it to
chillness.
LYLY, _Euphues and his England_

(3) Cozen german to idleness, and a concomitant cause which goes hand
in hand with it, is _nimia solitudo_, too much solitariness--by
the testimony of all physicians, cause and symptom both; but as it is
here put for a cause, it is either coact, enforced, or else voluntary.
Enforced solitariness is commonly seen in students, monks, friars,
anchorites, that, by their order and course of life, must abandon all
company, society of other men, and betake themselves to a private
cell; _otio superstitioso seclusi_ (as Bale and Hospinian well
term it), such as are the Carthusians of our time, that eat no flesh
(by their order), keep perpetual silence, never go abroad; such as
live in prison, or some desert place, and cannot have company, as many
of our country gentlemen do in solitary houses; they must either be
alone without companions, or live beyond their means, and entertain
all comers as so many hosts, or else converse with their servants
and hinds, such as are unequal, inferior to them, and of a contrary
disposition; or else, as some do, to avoid solitariness, spend their
time with lewd fellows in taverns, and in ale-houses, and thence
addict themselves to some unlawful disports, or dissolute courses.
BURTON, _The Anatomy of Melancholy_

(4) Mr Peter, as one somewhat severe of nature, said plainly, that the
rod only was the sword that must keep the school in obedience, and
the scholar in good order. Mr Wotton, a man of mild nature, with soft
voice, and few words, inclined to Mr Secretary’s judgment, and said,
“In mine opinion the school-house should be in deed, as it is called
by name, the house of play and pleasure, and not of fear and bondage;
and as I do remember, so saith Socrates in one place of Plato. And
therefore, if a rod carry the fear of a sword it is no marvel if those
that be fearful of nature choose rather to forsake the play, than to
stand always within the fear of a sword in a fond man’s handling.”
ASCHAM, _The Scholemaster_

(5) Come little babe, come silly soul,
Thy father’s shame, thy mother’s grief,
Born as I doubt to all our dole,
And to thyself unhappy chief:
Sing lullaby and lap it warm,
Poor soul that thinks no creature harm.

Thou little think’st and less dost know
The cause of this thy mother’s moan;
Thou want’st the wit to wail her woe,
And I myself am all alone;
Why dost thou weep, why dost thou wail,
And know’st not yet what thou dost ail?

Come little wretch, ah silly heart,
Mine only joy; what can I more?
If there be any wrong thy smart,
That may the destinies implore;
’Twas I, I say, against my will;
I wail the time, but be thou still.
_A Sweet Lullaby_
(from _The Arbor of Amorous Devices_)

(6) Ere long they come where that same wicked wight
His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave,[115]
Far underneath a craggie clifty pight,
Darke, dolefull, dreary, like a greedy grave,
That still for carrion carcases doth crave:
On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly Owle,
Shrieking his balefull note, which ever drave
Far from that haunt all other chearefull fowle;
And all about it wandring ghostes did wayle and howle.

And all about old stockes and stubs of trees,
Whereon nor fruit nor leafe was ever seene,
Did hang upon the ragged rocky knees;
On which had many wretches hanged beene,
Whose carcases were scattred on the greene,
And throwne about the clifts. Arrived there,
That bare-head knight, for dread and dolefull teene,
Would faine have fled, ne durst approchen neare;
But th’ other forst him staye, and comforted in feare.

That darksome cave they enter, where they find
That cursed man, low sitting on the ground,
Musing full sadly in his sullein mind:
His griesie lockes, long growen and unbound,
Disordered hong about his shoulders round,
And his face, through which his hollow eyne
Lookt deadly dull, and stared as astound;
His raw-bone cheekes, through penurie and pine,
Were shronke into his jawes, as he did never dine.
SPENSER, _The Faerie Queene_

6. What features of Shakespeare’s life and literary work does Arnold
refer to in the following sonnet? How far do his statements appear to
you inaccurate or exaggerated?

Others abide our question. Thou art free.
We ask and ask--thou smilest and art still,
Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill,
Who to the stars uncrowns his majesty,
Planting his stedfast footsteps in the sea,
Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place,
Spares but the cloudy border of his base
To the foil’d searching of mortality;
And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know,
Self-school’d, self-scann’d, self-honour’d, self-secure,
Didst tread on earth unguess’d at. Better so!
All pains the immortal spirit must endure,
All weakness which impairs, all griefs which bow,
Find their sole speech in that victorious brow.
MATTHEW ARNOLD, _Shakespeare_

7. Compare very carefully the two given extracts from Shakespeare’s
plays. Observe the handling of each: the simplicity or ornateness of
diction, the power of expression, and the strength and flexibility of
the blank verse. On these grounds, which would you say was taken from
an early and which from a later?

(1) _Cordelia._ He wakes; speak to him.

_Doctor._ Madam, do you: ’tis fittest.

_Cordelia._ How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?

_Lear._ You do me wrong to take me out o’ the grave:
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead.

_Cordelia._ Sir, do you know me?

_Lear._ You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?

_Cordelia._ Still, still, far wide!

_Doctor._ He’s scarce awake: let him alone awhile.

_Lear._ Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
I am mightily abused. I should e’en die with pity,
To see another thus. I know not what to say.
I will not swear these are my hands: let’s see;
I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured
Of my condition!
_King Lear_

(2) _Portia._ It must not be. There is no power in Venice
Can alter a decree established:
’Twill be recorded for a precedent,
And many an error by the same example
Will rush into the state. It cannot be.

_Shylock._ A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!
O wise young judge, how I do honour thee!

_Portia._ I pray you, let me look upon the bond.

_Shylock._ Here ’tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.

_Portia._ Shylock, there’s thrice thy money offered thee.

_Shylock._ An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven.
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?
No, not for Venice.

_Portia._ Why, this bond is forfeit;
And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
Nearest the merchant’s heart.--Be merciful:
Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.
_The Merchant of Venice_

8. Explain and discuss the following statements concerning Shakespeare.
Whenever you can, illustrate with examples from the plays.

(1) He was not of an age, but for all time.--JONSON.

(2) Panting time toiled after him in vain.--JOHNSON.

(3) The genius of Shakespeare was an innate universality.
KEATS.

(4) His plays are distinguished by signal adherence to the great
laws of nature, that all opposites tend to attract and temper
each other.--COLERIDGE.

(5) The striking peculiarity of Shakespeare’s mind was its
power of communicating with other minds, so that it contained a
universe of thought and feeling within itself.--HAZLITT.

9. What were the signs of the “dramatic decline” that set in after
Shakespeare? Mention some dramatists whose plays show this decline.

10. Try to account for the weakness of English prose when compared with
the poetry of the time.

(1) No single prose writer of the time, not even Hooker, holds
the same rank that Spenser holds in poetry.--SAINTSBURY.

(2) The poets and dramatists of the age of Elizabeth completed
their work quickly, and attained, by leaps and bounds, to the
consummate perfection of their diction. But prose style grows
more slowly; and its growth is hindered rather than quickened by
the very variety of its subject.--CRAIK.

11. In what respects is the title “Elizabethan literature” open to
objection when it is applied to the matter of this chapter? Suggest
other titles.

12. To what extent were the University Wits immature dramatists? What
was their contribution to the English drama?

13. “The age of Elizabeth made the most of both native and classical
elements.” Discuss this statement.

14. It is frequently stated that during the second half of the
Elizabethan period drama weakened and prose strengthened. Confirm or
confute the statement.

15. How was this time “the Golden Age of the lyric”?

CHAPTER VI

THE AGE OF MILTON

TIME-CHART OF THE CHIEF AUTHORS

_The thick line indicates approximately the period of active literary
production._

1620 1630 1640 1650 1660 1670 1680
| | ║[116] | | | ║ | |
Cowley |........|.║==============================║ | |
(1618–67) | | | | | | |
| ║ | ║ | | | | |
Herbert |.║=========║ | | | | |
(1593–1633) | | | | | | |
| | | ║[117]║ | | ║ |
Herrick |........|........|..║=====║........|........|.║ |
(1591–1674) | | | | | | |
| ║ | [118] | | ║[119] | ║ |
Milton |......║=========================║=============║ |
(1608–74) | | | | ║ | | |
| | | ║[120] | ║ | | |
Browne |........|........|.║============║..|........|........|
(1605–82) | | | | | | |
| | | ║[121] | | ║ |
Clarendon |........|........|....║=======================║ |
(1609–74) | | | | | | |
| | |║ ║ [122] | ║ | |
Taylor |........|........|║=======║==============║ | |
(1613–67) | | | ║ | | |
| ║ | | | ║[123] | | ║ |
Hobbes |.....║======================║=====================║ |
(1588–1679) | | | | ║ | | |
| | | | | | |

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND (1630–60)

The entire period covered by this chapter is dominated by the Civil
War. The earlier years are marked by the quarrels and alarms which led
up to actual hostilities in 1642; the middle of the period is occupied
with the spasmodic fighting that lasted till the execution of Charles
I in 1649; and the last portion covers the establishment of the
Commonwealth, the rise and disappearance of Cromwell (1654–58), the
confusion following upon his death, and the final restoration of the
monarchy in 1660.

LITERARY FEATURES OF THE AGE

=1. The Reaction.= During this period the decline from the high
Elizabethan standard is apparent in several ways. (_a_) The output,
especially of poetry, is much smaller, and the fashion is toward
shorter poems, especially the lyric of a peculiar type. (_b_) There is
a marked decay in the exalted poetical fervor of the previous age. In
the new poetry there is more of the intellectual play of fancy than of
passion and profundity. And, especially in prose, there is a matured
melancholy that one is apt to associate with advancing years. (_c_)
In prose there is a marked increase in activity, which is an almost
invariable accompaniment of a decline in poetry.

=2. The Pressure of Historical Events.= Viewed from a broad aspect, the
Civil War was only a domestic incident in English history; but the very
narrowness of the issue intensified the bitterness of the contest. It
divided the people into two factions, and among other things vitally
affected the literature of the time. Poetry was benumbed and lifeless,
and prose assumed a fierce and disputatious character.

=3. The Dominance of Milton.= The age is distinguished by the efforts
of Milton to keep literature alive. Upon his “Atlantean shoulders” he
bears its reputation. Other poets were scrappy and uneven, like the
“Metaphysicals”; or flat and uninspired, like Cowley; or shallow and
trivial, like Denham. In Milton alone, and even in the prose of Milton
to a considerable extent, we find satisfying quantity and quality.

=4. The Metaphysical Poets.= This term was first used by Johnson,
who applied it to Donne and Cowley. It was applied to a kind of poetry,
usually lyrical poetry, that often startled the reader by the sudden
leaps of its fancy into remoteness and (in exaggerated instances)
absurdity. The fashion was popular just before the Civil War broke
out, and it can be seen in the works of Herrick, Crashaw, Herbert,
Vaughan, and others. More detailed examination of this curious poetical
mode will be found in the notices of these poets.

=5. The Cavalier Poets.= This name is often loosely applied to the
Metaphysical poets; but the latter were usually of a religious
and mystical cast, whereas the Cavalier poets were military and
swashbuckling in disposition. They were well represented by Lovelace
and Suckling.

=6. The Expansion of Prose.= The development of prose is carried on
from the previous age. In spite of the hampering effects of the civil
strife, the prose output was copious and excellent in kind. There was
a notable advance in the sermon; pamphlets were abundant; and history,
politics, philosophy, and miscellaneous kinds were well represented. In
addition, there was a remarkable advance in prose style.

=7. The Collapse of the Drama.= Many things combined to oppress the
drama at this time. Chief among these were the civil disturbances
and the strong opposition of the Puritans. In temper the age was not
dramatic. It is curious to note that Milton’s greatest work, which in
the Elizabethan age would probably have been dramatic in form, took on
the shape of the epic. The actual dramatic work of the period was small
and unimportant; and the unequal struggle was terminated by the closing
of the theaters in 1642.

JOHN MILTON (1608–74)

=1. His Life.= Milton was born in Bread Street, Cheapside, London.
His father was a money-scrivener, an occupation that combined the
duties of the modern banker and lawyer. Milton was educated at St.
Paul’s School, London, and at Cambridge. At the university his stubborn
and irascible nature declared itself, and owing to insubordination
he was “sent down” for a term. On taking his final degree (1632) he
abandoned his intention of entering the Church and retired to Horton,
a small village in Buckinghamshire, some seventeen miles from London,
whither his father had withdrawn from business.

Milton’s next few years were those of a sequestered man of letters.
Poetry, mathematics, and music were his main studies. In 1638 he left
for a tour on the Continent, staying some months in Italy, where he
met many scholars and literary men. He was recalled to England by the
news that civil war was imminent. He settled down in London and set up
a small private school, and when hostilities broke out a year or two
later he took no part in the fighting. His pen, however, was active
in support of the Parliamentary cause, to which he was passionately
attached.

In 1643 he married a woman much younger than himself, and almost
immediately his wife left him, and did not return for two years. This
unfortunate circumstance led Milton to write two strong pamphlets
on divorce, which caused a great scandal at the time. Then in 1649,
after the execution of the King, he was appointed by the Commonwealth
Government Secretary for Foreign Tongues. In this capacity he became
secretary to the Council of State, and drafted Latin documents for
transmission to foreign Powers. In addition, he wrote numerous
pamphlets in support of the republican cause. By this time his eyesight
was failing; and when the Restoration came in 1660 to ruin his hopes,
it found him blind, poor, and alone. He escaped, however, from the
severe punishments that were inflicted upon many prominent Roundheads.
He was slightly punished by a nominal imprisonment; retired to an
obscure village in Buckinghamshire to write poetry; and died in London,
where he was buried.

=2. His Prose.= Most of Milton’s prose was written during the middle
period of his life (1640–60), when he was busy with public affairs.
The prose works have an unusual interest, because as a rule they have
a direct bearing on either his personal business or public interests.
In all they amount to twenty-five pamphlets, of which twenty-one are in
English and the remaining four in Latin.

He began pamphleteering quite early (1641), when he engaged in a
lively controversy with Bishop Hall over episcopacy. Then, while
teaching, he wrote a rather poor tract, _Of Education_ (1644). When
his wife deserted him he composed two pamphlets on divorce (1643–4),
which scandalized the public by the freedom of their opinions and the
slashing nature of their style. The critics of the pamphlets sought to
confound Milton on a technical matter by pointing out that he had not
licensed the books, as required by law. To this Milton retorted with
the greatest of all his tracts, _Areopagitica_ (1644), a noble and
impassioned plea for the liberty of the Press. Later works include a
defense (in Latin) of the execution of Charles I and of other actions
of the Commonwealth Government. During the last years of his life
Milton partly completed a _History of Britain_ and other scholastic
works.

When we consider the style of Milton’s prose we must keep in mind
how it was occasioned. His pamphlets were cast off at white heat and
precipitated into print while some topic was in urgent debate either
in Milton’s or the public mind. Hence in method they are tempestuous
and disordered; voluble, violent, and lax in style. They reveal intense
zeal and pugnacity, a mind at once spacious in ideals and intolerant
in application, a rich fancy, and a capacious scholarship. They lack
humor, proportion, and restraint; but in spite of these defects they
are among the greatest controversial compositions in the language. A
short extract will illustrate some of the Miltonic features:

I deny not but that it is of greatest concernment in the Church
and Commonwealth, to have a vigilant eye how books demean
themselves as well as men; and thereafter to confine, imprison,
and do sharpest justice on them as malefactors: for books are
not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life
in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they
are; nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and
extraction of that living intellect that bred them. I know they
are as lively, and as vigorously productive, as those fabulous
dragons’ teeth; and being sown up and down, may chance to
spring up armed men. And yet on the other hand, unless wariness
be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book; who
kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God’s image; but he
who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image
of God as it were in the eye. Many a man lives a burden to the
earth; but a good book is the precious life-blood of a master
spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond
life.
_Areopagitica_

=3. His Poetry.= The great bulk of Milton’s poetry was written during
two periods separated from each other by twenty years: (_a_) the period
of his university career and his stay at Horton, from 1629 to 1640; and
(_b_) the last years of his life, from about 1660 to 1674. The years
between were filled by a few sonnets.

(_a_) While still an undergraduate Milton began to compose poems of
remarkable maturity and promise. They include the fine and stately
_Ode on the Morning of Christ’s Nativity_ (1629), and the poems _On
Shakespeare_ (1630) and _On Arriving at the Age of Twenty-three_
(1631). These poems show Milton’s command of impressive diction and
his high ideals, both literary and religious. While at Horton (1634)
he composed _L’Allegro_ and _Il Penseroso_, two longish poems in
octosyllabic couplets dealing with the respective experiences of
the gay and thoughtful man. The pieces are decorative rather than
descriptive, artificial rather than natural, but they are full of
scholarly fancy and adroit poetical phrasing. _Comus_ (1637) belongs to
this period, and is a masque containing some stiff but beautiful blank
verse and some quite charming lyrical measures. _Lycidas_ (1637) is an
elegy on his friend Edward King, who was drowned on a voyage to Ireland.

_Lycidas_, which is to be reckoned as among the highest of Milton’s
achievements, is something quite new in English poetry. In form it
is pastoral, but this artificial medium serves only to show the
power of Milton’s grip, which can wring from intractable material
the very essence of poetry. The elegy has the color and music of the
best Spenserian verse; but it has a climbing majesty of epithet and
a dignified intensity of passion that Spenser does not possess. Its
meter is an irregular stanza-sequence and rhyme-sequence of a peculiar
haunting beauty.

For, so to interpose a little ease,
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise;
Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas
Wash far away,--where’er thy bones are hurled,
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides
Where thou perhaps, under the whelming tide,
Visitest the bottom of the monstrous world;
Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,
Sleep’st by the fable of Bellerus old,
Where the great Vision of the guarded mount
Looks towards Namancos and Bayona’s hold....

(_b_) This period (1660–74) gives us the poetry of the matured Milton.
The work of the middle years is composed of a few sonnets. These, with
some others written at different times, sufficiently show Milton’s
command of the Italian form, which he uses throughout. He gives it a
sweep and sonorous impressiveness that set him alone beside Wordsworth,
who in this respect is his poetical successor. The best of Milton’s
sonnets are _On his Blindness_ and _On the Late Massacre in Piedmont_.

The great work of this time is _Paradise Lost_. It was begun as
early as 1658, and issued in 1667. At first it was divided into ten
books or parts, but in the second edition it was redivided into twelve.
In form it follows the strict unity of the classical epic; in theme it
deals with the fall of man; but by means of introduced narratives it
covers the rebellion of Lucifer in heaven, the celestial warfare, and
the expulsion of the rebels. In conception the poem is spacious and
commanding; it is sumptuously adorned with all the detail that Milton’s
rich imagination, fed with classical and Biblical lore, can suggest;
the characters, especially that of Lucifer, are drawn on a gigantic
scale, and do not lack a certain tragic immensity; and the blank
verse in which the work is composed is new and wonderful. This type
of blank verse has founded a tradition in English; it has often been
imitated and modified, but never paralleled. It lacks the suppleness
of the Shakespearian measure; but it is instinct with beauty and
scholarly care. It is almost infinite in modulation; varied cunningly
in scansion, in pause, in cadence, and in sonorous dignity of music.
It has its lapses into wordiness and bombast, but the lapses are few
indeed.

In the following extract the construction of the blank verse should be
carefully observed. The variation of foot, pause, and melody is worthy
of the closest study.

No sooner had the Almighty ceased, but all
The multitude of angels, with a shout
Loud as from numbers without number, sweet
As from blest voices, uttering joy, Heaven rung
With jubilee, and loud hosannas filled
The eternal regions. Lowly reverent
Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground,
With solemn adoration, down they cast
Their crowns inwove with amarant and gold--
Immortal amarant, a flower which once
In Paradise, fast by the tree of life,
Began to bloom; but soon for man’s offence
To Heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows,
And flowers aloft, shading the fount of life,
And where the river of bliss, through midst of Heaven,
Rolls o’er Elysian flowers her amber stream.

In 1671 Milton issued his last volume of poetry, which contained
_Paradise Regained_ and _Samson Agonistes_. The former poem, which
tells of Christ’s temptation and victory, is complementary to the
earlier epic, and Milton hoped that it would surpass its predecessor.
In this his hopes were dashed. It is briefer and poorer than _Paradise
Lost_; it lacks the exalted imagination, the adornment, and the ornate
rhythms of the earlier poem. There is little action, the characters are
uninteresting, and the work approaches _Paradise Lost_ only in a few
outstanding passages.

_Samson Agonistes_, which tells of Samson’s death while a prisoner
of the Philistines, has a curious interest, for in the Biblical hero
Milton saw more than one resemblance to himself. In form the work
has the strict unity of time, place, and action universal in Greek
tragedy. In style it is bleak and bare, in places harsh and forbidding;
but in several places Milton’s stubborn soul is wrung with pity and
exalted by the hope that looks beyond. The speech of Samson’s father
over his dead son is no inappropriate epitaph for Milton himself:

Come, come, no time for lamentation now,
Nor much more cause; Samson hath quit himself
Like Samson, and heroically hath finished
A life heroic, on his enemies
Fully revenged, hath left them years of mourning,
To himself and father’s house eternal fame;
And, which is best and happiest yet, all this
With God not parted from him, as was feared,
But favouring and assisting to the end.
Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail
Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt,
Dispraise, or blame, nothing but well and fair,
And what may quiet us in a death so noble.

=4. Features of his Poetry.= (_a_) _The Puritan Strain._ All through
his life Milton’s religious fervor was unshaken. Even his enemies did
not deny his sincerity. It is seen even in one of his earliest sonnets:

All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great Taskmaster’s eye.

It persists even to the end, when it runs deeper and darker. In
_Paradise Lost_, for example, his chief motive is to “justify the ways
of God to men.”

This religious tendency is apparent in (1) the choice of religious
subjects, especially in the later poems; (2) the sense of
responsibility and moral exaltation; (3) the fondness for preaching and
lecturing, which in _Paradise Lost_ is a positive weakness; (4)
the narrowness of outlook, strongly Puritanical, seen in his outbursts
against his opponents (as in _Lycidas_), in his belief regarding
the inferiority of women, and in his scorn for the “miscellaneous
rabble.”

(_b_) _The Classical Strain._ Curiously interwoven with the
severity of his religious nature is a strong bent for the classics,
which is pagan and sensuous. His learning was wide and matured;
he wrote Latin prose and verse as freely as he wrote English. His
classical bent is apparent in (1) his choice of classical and
semi-classical forms--the epic, the Greek tragedy, the pastoral, and
the sonnet; (2) the elaborate descriptions and enormous similes in
_Paradise Lost_; (3) the fondness for classical allusion, which
runs riot through all his poetry; (4) the dignity of his style, and its
precision and care. His very egoism takes a high classical turn. In his
blindness he compares himself with

Blind Thamyris and blind Mæonides,
And Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old.

In his choice of diction we have the classical element abundantly
apparent; and, lastly, the same element appears in the typical Miltonic
grandeur and frigidity, the arrogant aloofness from men and mortals.

(_c_) _His Poetical Genius._ As a poet Milton is not a great innovator;
his function is rather to refine and make perfect. Every form he
touches acquires a finality of grace and dignity. The epic, the ode,
the classical drama, the sonnet, the masque, and the elegy--his
achievements in these have never been bettered and seldom approached.
As a metrist he stands almost alone. In all his meters we observe the
same ease, sureness, and success.

(_d_) _His Position in Literature._ In literature Milton occupies an
important central or transitional position. He came immediately after
the Elizabethan epoch, when the Elizabethan methods were crumbling
into chaos. His hand and temper were firm enough to gather into one
system the wavering tendencies of poetry, and to give them sureness,
accuracy, and variety. The next generation, lacking the inspiration
of the Elizabethans, found in him the necessary stimulus to order and
accuracy; and from him, to a great extent, sprang the new “classicism”
that was to be the rule for more than a century.

OTHER POETS

=1. Abraham Cowley (1618–67)= was born in London, the son of a wealthy
citizen. He was educated at Westminster School and at Cambridge, where
he distinguished himself as a classical scholar. In the Civil War he
warmly supported the King; followed the royal family into exile, where
he performed valuable services; returned to England at the Restoration;
and for the remainder of his life composed books in retirement.

Cowley, even more than Pope and Macaulay, is the great example of
the infant prodigy. When he was ten he wrote a long epical romance,
_Piramus and Thisbe_ (1628), and two years later produced an even
longer poem called _Constantia and Philetus_ (1630). All through his
life he was active in the production of many kinds of work--poems,
plays, essays, and histories. His best-known poem was _The Davideis_
(1637), a rather dreary epic on King David, in heroic couplets. Other
poems were _The Mistress_ (1647), a collection of love-poems, and the
_Pindarique Odes_, which are a curious hybrid between the early freedom
of the Elizabethans and the classicism of the later generation. His
prose works included his _Essays_ and _Discourse concerning Oliver
Cromwell_ (1661).

Both in prose and poetry Cowley was a man of various methods, showing
the wavering moods of the transitional poet. His heroic couplets and
irregular odes foreshadow the vogue of the approaching “correctness”;
his essays, in their pleasant egoism and miscellaneous subject-matter,
suggest Addison; and his prose style, plain and not inelegant, draws
near to the mode of Dryden. His variety pleased many tastes; hence the
popularity that was showered upon him during his day. But he excelled
in no particular method; and hence the partial oblivion that has
followed.

=2. The Metaphysical Poets.= The works of this group of poets have
several features in common: (i) the poetry is to a great extent
lyrical; (ii) in subject it is chiefly religious or amatory; (iii)
there is much metrical facility, even in complicated lyrical stanzas;
(iv) the poetic style is sometimes almost startling in its sudden
beauty of phrase and melody of diction, but there are unexpected turns
of language and figures of speech (hence the name of the group).

(_a_) =Robert Herrick (1591–1674)= was born in London, and educated at
Westminster School and at Cambridge, where he lived for fourteen years.
He was appointed to a living in Devonshire, where he died.

His two volumes of poems are _Noble Numbers_ (1647) and _Hesperides_
(1648). Both are collections of short poems, sacred and profane. In
them he reveals lyrical power of a high order; fresh, passionate, and
felicitously exact, but at the same time meditative and observant.
Herrick was strongly influenced by Jonson and the classics; he
delighted in the good things of this world; but that did not prevent
his having a keen enjoyment of nature and a fresh outlook upon life.
Among the best known of his shorter pieces are _To Anthea_, _To Julia_,
and _Cherry Ripe_.

(_b_) =George Herbert (1593–1633)= was born at Montgomery Castle,
educated at Westminster School and at Trinity College, Cambridge, where
he was appointed Fellow and reader, took holy orders, and was given in
turn livings near Huntingdon and at Bemerton, near Salisbury.

None of his poems was published during his lifetime. On his death-bed
he gave to a friend the manuscript of _The Temple_, a collection
of religious poems in various meters. The poems, of a high quality, are
inspired with a devout piety which is often fantastically expressed and
quaintly figured. His poetry is not so “metaphysical” as that of some
others of his group; but neither does it rise to the great heights that
they sometimes achieve.

(_c_) =Richard Crashaw (1613–50)=, the son of a clergyman, was born
in London, and educated at the Charterhouse and at Cambridge. During
the Civil War, in which he was a strong Royalist, he was compelled to
escape to France, where he became a Roman Catholic. At a later stage he
went to Rome and to Loretto. At the latter place he died and was buried.

Crashaw represents the best and the worst of the Metaphysical poets.
At his best he has an energy and triumphant rapture that, outside the
poems of Shelley, are rarely equaled in English; at his worst he is
shrill, frothy, and conceited. His style at its best is harmonious,
precise, and nobly elevated; at its worst it is disfigured by
obscurity, perversity, and unseemly images. His chief work is _Steps
to the Temple_ (1646).

We quote an extract to show the exalted mood to which his poetry can
ascend:

Live in these conquering leaves; live all the same;
And walk through all tongues one triumphant flame;
Live here, great heart;[124] and love, and die, and kill;
And bleed, and wound, and yield, and conquer still.
Let this immortal life where’er it comes
Walk in a crowd of loves and martyrdoms.
Let mystic deaths wait on’t; and wise souls be
The love-slain witnesses of this life of thee.
O sweet incendiary! show here thy art,
Upon this carcase of a hard cold heart....
Oh thou undaunted daughter of desires!
By all thy power of lights and fires;...
By all thy brim-filled bowls of fierce desire;
By thy last morning’s draught of liquid fire;
By the full kingdom of that final kiss
That seized thy parting soul, and sealed thee his;...
Leave nothing of myself in me.
_The Flaming Heart_

(_d_) =Henry Vaughan (1622–95)= was born in Wales, and was descended
from an ancient family. He went to London to study law, then turned to
medicine, and practiced at Brecon. His books include _Poems_ (1646),
_Olor Iscanus_ (1647), _Silex Scintillans_ (1650), and _Thalia
Rediviva_ (1678).

Vaughan’s love-poems, though they are often prettily and sometimes
beautifully phrased, are inferior to his religious pieces, especially
those in _Silex Scintillans_. His religious fervor is nobly
imaginative, and strikes out lines and ideas of astonishing strength
and beauty. His regard for nature, moreover, has a closeness and
penetration that sometimes (for example, in _The Retreat_)
suggests Wordsworth.

(_e_) =Thomas Carew (1595–1645)= was born in Kent, educated at Oxford,
and studied law in the Middle Temple. He attained to some success as
a courtier, but later died in obscurity. The date of his death is
uncertain, but it was probably 1645.

His _Poems_ (1640) show his undoubted lyrical ability. The pieces
are influenced by Donne and Jonson, but they have a character of their
own. The fancy is warmly colored, though it is marred by license and
bad taste. We quote a lyric which can be taken as representative of
the best of its kind. Its fancy is too rich and beautiful to be called
fantastic, and its golden felicity of diction is rarely equaled.

Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose,
For in your beauty’s orient deep
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Ask me no more whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day,
For, in pure love, heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.

Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past,
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters and keeps warm her note.

Ask me no more if east or west
The phœnix builds her spicy nest,
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

=3.= The =Cavalier poets= are lyrical poets, and deal chiefly with love
and war.

(_a_) =Richard Lovelace (1618–58)= was born at Woolwich, was
educated at the Charterhouse and at Oxford, and became an officer in
the King’s household. When the Civil War broke out he was imprisoned
by the Roundheads; and, being liberated on parole, could do little
actively to assist Charles. At a later stage he saw some soldiering in
France, returned to England, and died in obscure circumstances.

His volume _Lucasta_ (1649) contains the best of his shorter pieces,
which had appeared at different times previously. He is essentially the
poet of attractive scraps and fancies, elegantly and wittily expressed.
Some of his lyrics, such as _To Althea, from Prison_ and _To Lucasta,
Going to the Wars_, have retained their popularity.

(_b_) =Sir John Suckling (1609–42)= was born in Middlesex, and at
the age of eighteen fell heir to a large fortune. He was educated at
Oxford, traveled on the Continent, served as a volunteer under Gustavus
Adolphus, and became a favorite of Charles I. He was implicated
in Royalist plots, and escaped abroad (1640), where he died under
conditions that are somewhat mysterious.

To some extent (for he seems to have lacked physical courage) Suckling
was the cavalier of the romances and the Restoration plays--gay,
generous, and witty. His poems largely reflect these characteristics.
As a poet he has great ability, but he is usually the elegant amateur,
disdaining serious and sustained labor. Some of his poems, such as the
_Ballad upon a Wedding_ (see p. 186), and “Why so pale and wan,
fond lover?” show the tricksy elegance that is his chief attraction.

DRAMA

=1. Philip Massinger (1583–1640)= was born at Salisbury, educated
at Oxford, and became a literary man in London, writing plays for the
King’s Men, a company of actors. If we may judge from his begging
letters that survive, he found in dramatic work little financial
encouragement. He died and was buried in London.

Massinger did much hack-work, and was fond of working out topical and
moral themes; so that a large amount of his work is of little permanent
importance. The best of his many plays are _A New Way to Pay Old
Debts_ (1625) and _The City Madam_ (1632), two quite fine comedies;
and _The Duke of Milan_ (1618) and _The Unnatural Combat_ (1619),
quite respectable tragedies. The level of Massinger’s workmanship is
laudably high; he is remarkably uniform in quality; and in a few cases
(as in that of Sir Giles Overreach in _A New Way to Pay Old Debts_) he
has created characters of real distinction. He followed the fashion of
the time in collaborating with other dramatists. _The Virgin Martyr_,
produced jointly with Dekker, is perhaps the most important of this
class of play.

=2. John Ford (1586–1640)= was born in Devonshire, educated at Oxford,
and studied, though he seems never to have practiced, law. He became an
active producer of plays, chiefly tragedies, both on his own account
and in collaboration with other playwrights.

In his nature Ford had a morbid twist which gave him a strange liking
for the horrible and the unnatural. His plays are unequal in quality;
but the most powerful of them are prevented from being revolting by
their real tragic force and their high literary aims. In _The Broken
Heart_ (acted in 1629) he harrows the reader’s feelings almost beyond
endurance; his _Perkin Warbeck_ (1634), a historical tragedy, is
reckoned to be the best historical drama outside of Shakespeare; and
in _The Witch of Edmonton_ (about 1633) he collaborated with Dekker
and Rowley to produce a powerful domestic drama. Others of the sixteen
plays attributed to him are _The Lover’s Melancholy_ (1629), _Love’s
Sacrifice_ (1633), and _The Fancies Chaste and Noble_ (1638).

SIR THOMAS BROWNE (1605–82)

Browne may be taken as representative of the best prose-writers of the
period.

=1. His Life.= He was born in London, educated at Winchester and
Oxford, and studied medicine. For a time he practiced in Oxfordshire;
then he traveled abroad, receiving his degree of M.D. at Leyden.
Returning to London (1634), he soon removed to Norwich, where for the
remainder of his life he successfully practiced as a doctor.

=2. His Works.= Almost alone among his contemporaries, Browne seems to
have been unaffected by the commotions of the time. His prose works,
produced during some of the hottest years of civil contention, are
tranquilly oblivious of unrest. His books are only five in number, are
individually small in size, and are of great and almost uniform merit.
_Religio Medici_ (1642), his confession of faith, is a curious mixture
of credulity and skepticism; _Pseudodoxia Epidemica_, or _Vulgar
Errors_ (1646), shared the same mental inconsistency, resembles the
work of Burton in its out-of-the-way learning; _Hydriotaphia or Erne
Buriall_ (1658), commonly considered to be his masterpiece, contains
reflections on human mortality induced by the discovery of some ancient
funeral urns; _The Garden of Cyrus_ (1658) is a treatise on the
quincunx. The last work, _Christian Morals_, was published after his
death.

=3. His Style.= As a philosopher Browne is either obscure and
confusing, as in _Religio Medici_, or unoriginal and obvious, as in
_Hydriotaphia_. His learning, though it is wide and accurate, is too
far-fetched and strange to be of much practical use. But as a literary
stylist he is very valuable indeed. He shows the ornate style of
the time in its richest bloom. His diction is strongly Latinized,
sometimes to the limit of obscurity; and he has the scholastic habit
of introducing Latin tags and references. In this he resembles Burton;
but in other respects he is far beyond the author of _The Anatomy of
Melancholy_. His sentences are carefully wrought and artistically
combined into paragraphs; and, most important from the purely literary
point of view, the diction has a richness of effect unknown among other
English prose-writers. The rhythm is harmonious, and finishes with
carefully attuned cadences. The prose is sometimes obscure, rarely
vivacious, and hardly ever diverting; but the solemnity and beauty
of it have given it an enduring fascination. A brief extract will
illustrate some of its qualities:

Pious spirits who passed their days in raptures of futurity,
made little more of this world, than the world that was before
it, while they lay obscure in the chaos of preordination, and
night of their fore-beings. And if any have been so happy
as truly to understand Christian annihilation, ecstasies,
exolution, liquefaction, transformation, the kiss of the spouse,
gustation of God, and ingression into the divine shadow, they
have already had an handsome anticipation of heaven; the glory
of the world is surely over, and the earth in ashes unto them.

To subsist in lasting monuments, to live in their productions,
to exist in their names and predicament of chimeras, was large
satisfaction unto old expectations, and made one part of their
Elysiums. But all this is nothing in the metaphysics of true
belief. To live, indeed, is to be again ourselves, which being
not only an hope, but an evidence in noble believers, ’tis all
one to lie in St Innocent’s churchyard, as in the sands of
Egypt. Ready to be anything, in the ecstasy of being ever, and
as content with six foot as the _moles_ of Adrianus.
_Hydriotaphia_

OTHER PROSE-WRITERS

=1. Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon (1609–74)=, was born in Wiltshire,
educated at Oxford, and studied law. A man of excellent address, he
was a successful lawyer, and became a member of the House of Commons.
At first he was attached to the Parliamentary side, but he separated
from the party on account of their attitude to the Church. He changed
over to the Royalists, and thenceforward became one of the foremost
advocates of the King’s cause. After the downfall of the Royalists he
accompanied the young Charles into exile; and at the Restoration he
was appointed Lord Chancellor and raised to the peerage as Earl of
Clarendon. He was too severe for the frivolous Restoration times, was
exiled (1667), and died in France. His body was buried in Westminster
Abbey.

His great work, _The History of the Great Rebellion_, was begun as
early as 1646 and finished during the years of his last exile. It was
not published till 1704. To some extent the work is based on his own
knowledge of the struggle; it lacks proportion and complete accuracy;
but the narrative is strong and attractive, and it contains masterly
character-sketches of some of the chief figures in the struggle. It
is composed in long, lumbering sentences, loaded with parentheses
and digressions, but the style is readable. It is the most important
English work of a historical nature up to the date of its issue.

=2. Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679)= was born at Malmesbury, and was the
son of a clergyman. He finished his education at Oxford, and became
tutor to the future Earl of Devonshire. He supported the Royalist
cause, was exiled by the Roundheads, and at the Restoration was awarded
a pension. The remainder of his long life was devoted to literature.

Hobbes took an active part in the intellectual broils of the period,
and much of his work is violently contentious. His chief book was
_The Leviathan_ (1651), which expounded his political theories.
The ardor of his opinions embroiled him with both of the chief
political parties, but the abuse that it occasioned gave the book an
immense interest. The style in which it is written is hard, clear, and
accurate--almost the ideal medium for sustained exposition and argument.

=3. Jeremy Taylor (1613–67)= is the most prominent literary divine
of the period. The son of a barber, he was born and educated at
Cambridge, though latterly he removed to Oxford. Taking holy orders,
he distinguished himself as an ardent expounder of the Royalist cause,
and for a time he was imprisoned by the Parliamentary party. At the
Restoration he was rewarded by being appointed to the Irish bishoprics
of Down and Dromore. He died in Ireland.

A learned, voluble, and impressive preacher, Taylor carried the same
qualities into his prose works, which consisted of tracts, sermons,
and theological books. His most popular works, in addition to his
collections of sermons, were _The Liberty of Prophesying_ (1647),
_Holy Living_ (1650), and _Holy Dying_ (1651). In his writings he is
fond of quotations and allusions and of florid, rhetorical figures,
such as simile, exclamation, and apostrophe; and his language, built
into long, stately, but comprehensible sentences, is abundant,
melodious, and pleasing.

=4. Thomas Fuller (1608–61)= was born in Northamptonshire, his
father being a clergyman. He was educated at Cambridge, and took holy
orders. He received various appointments, and by his witty sermons
attracted the notice of Charles I. During the Civil War he was a
chaplain to the Royalist forces; but when his side was defeated he made
his peace with the Parliamentary party and was permitted to carry on
his literary labors. He died the year after the Restoration.

Fuller had an original and penetrating mind, a wit apt for caustic
comment, and an industry that remained unimpaired till the end of his
life. His literary works are therefore of great interest and value.
His serious historical books include _The History of the Holy
War_ (1639), dealing with the Crusades, and _The Church-History
of Britain_ (1655). Among his pamphlets are _Good Thoughts in
Bad Times_ (1645), and _An Alarum to the Counties of England and
Wales_ (1660). The work that has given him his reputation is his
_Worthies of England_, published by his son in 1662. It shows his
peculiar jocosity at its best.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

=1. Poetry.= (_a_) _The Lyric._ The period is rich in lyrical poetry
of a peculiar kind. The theme is chiefly love or religion. Most of the
love-poems are dedicated to ladies of the usual literary convention,
such as Althea, Celia, and Phyllis, who both in name and nature
resemble the stock characters of the artificial pastoral poetry. The
language addressed to such creations cannot be that of deep and genuine
passion; it is rather that of polite compliment, verbal quibble, or
courtly jest. This type of lyric is a charming literary exercise,
but hardly the inspired searching of the lover’s heart. We have
already noticed the poems of Herrick, Lovelace, and Carew as being
representative of this class. To these names may be added those of
=George Wither (1588–1667)=, who writes freshly and sweetly, =Andrew
Marvell (1621–78)=, who sometimes reveals real passion, and the
numerous miscellaneous songwriters, mostly anonymous, who in inspired
moments could produce such charming lyrics as “Phillada flouts me.”

The religious lyric, on the other hand, as we can see in the case
of Crashaw and Vaughan, is frequently passionately inspired; but
the passions are vaguely expressed; and we have commented upon the
incongruity that frequently disfigures the style. In the case of Milton
his lyrics are superbly phrased, but they too lack spontaneity. His
sonnets, among the noblest of their class, have much more depth of
feeling.

(_b_) _The Epic._ The true epic treats of a sublime subject in the
grand manner. In some respects _Beowulf_ is an epic, but strictly
speaking the epic does not appear till this age. Cowley’s _Davideis_
(1637) and Davenant’s _Gondibert_ (1651) aspire to be great epics; but
though they subscribe to the rules governing the outward form of the
species they lack the inner spirit and they are failures. Milton’s
_Paradise Lost_ (1658) has the heat and inspiration, but the Puritan
bias in his nature led him to the rather unsuitable subject of the fall
of man. It is unsuitable because it is weak in heroic action. Much more
appropriate would have been the story of King Arthur, which for a long
time he thought of using. Otherwise Milton’s treatment of the subject
is strictly orthodox. Nominally at least he adheres to the epical unity
of action; he draws his characters with a wide sweep; and the style is
a triumph of English epical style. His _Paradise Regained_ (1671) is
worked out on the same lines, but it is shorter and weaker than the
earlier epic.

(_c_) _The Ode._ In Spenser’s _Epithalamion_ and _Prothalamion_ we
have seen the irregular ode attain to a high degree of perfection. In
this age we observe the appearance of the Pindaric ode, which was to
be so popular in the succeeding generations. Though it appears to be
irregular, the Pindaric ode is really bound by stringent rules; its
language is ornately artificial; and its diction mannered and unreal.
Therefore it is suited to the needs of a transitional period that
desires artificiality with a show of freedom. Cowley’s _Pindarique
Odes_ (1656) are the first of their class in English.

(_d_) _Descriptive and Narrative Poetry._ In this wide class we may
include Milton’s _L’Allegro_ and _Il Penseroso_, Herrick’s pastoral
poems, and Crashaw’s religious-descriptive pieces. To these may
be added the _Cooper Hill_ (1641) of =Sir John Denham (1615–69)=,
a descriptive poem much praised in its day, and the romantic poem
_Pharonnida_ (1659) by =William Chamberlayne (1619–89)=. In all these
poems we may observe the growing tendency to avoid contact with actual
wild nature, and to seek rather the conventional and bookish landscapes
familiar in the more artificial classical authors. Already the new
classicism is declaring itself.

=2. Drama.= Earlier in this chapter we have noticed the decline and
temporary collapse of the drama (1642). The plays of Massinger sustain
the expiring spirit of the great Elizabethans; those of Ford follow
the tragical school of Webster and Tourneur. Other playwrights are
=James Shirley (1596–1666)=, who wrote some pleasing comedies of London
life, such as _The Lady of Pleasure_ (1637), and the feebler writers
=Suckling= and =Davenant=.

=3. Prose.= While the period is almost devoid of narrative prose of the
lighter sort, it is quite rich in prose of other kinds.

(_a_) _The Sermon._ This period has been called “the Golden Age of the
English pulpit.” No doubt the violent religious strife of the time
has much to do with the great flow of sermon writing, which is marked
with eloquence, learning, and strong argument. In addition to Jeremy
Taylor and Fuller, already mentioned, we may notice =Robert South
(1634–1716)=, who writes rather more briefly and simply than the rest,
=Isaac Barrow (1630–77)=, learned and copious, and =Richard Baxter
(1615–91)=, a Nonconformist, whose _Saints’ Everlasting Rest_ (1649)
has survived all his preachings.

(_b_) _Philosophical Works._ On the moral side there are the works
of Sir Thomas Browne; on the political those of Hobbes; and on the
religious side the books of =John Hales (1584–1656)=. Works of this
type show a growing knowledge and advancing scholarship, joined
sometimes to quaint conceits and artless credulity.

(_c_) _Historical Works._ In this class Clarendon’s and Fuller’s works
stand pre-eminent. The development of the history will be noticed in a
future chapter (see p. 340).

(_d_) _Miscellaneous Prose._ In this large and varied group may be
included the pamphlets of Milton, Hobbes, Fuller, and many more;
the attractive books of =Isaac Walton (1593–1683)=, whose _Compleat
Angler_ (1653) is the classic of its kind; the interesting _Resolves_,
short miscellaneous essays, of =Owen Felltham (1602–68)=; and the
_Letters_ (1645), an early type of essay-journalism, of =James Howell
(1594–1666)=.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE

=1. Poetry.= In surveying the poetical style of the age one is aware of
conflicting tendencies, a state of affairs quite in keeping with the
transitional nature of the time.

(_a_) The _lyrical style_ shows a decline from the natural splendors
of the Elizabethan age; but it shows an increase in care, in polish,
and in actual metrical dexterity. Moreover, in the best examples of the
time we find a melodious resonance and beauty that is quite peculiar
to the period. The lyric of Carew quoted on p. 172 illustrates this
felicity both of sound and expression. The startling “metaphysical”
quality of the works of many of the poets has been commented upon. It
is revealed at its worst in the works of =John Cleveland (1613–58)=,
whose more violent efforts came to be known as “_Clevelandisms_.” The
following is a mild example of his manner:

The flowers, called out of their beds,
Start and raise up their drowsy heads;
And he that for their colour seeks,
Will find it mantling in her cheeks,
Where roses mix; no civil war
Between her York and Lancaster.
The marigold, whose courtier face
Echoes the sun, and doth unlace
Her at his rise, at his full stop
Packs and shuts up her gaudy shop,
Mistakes her cue, and doth display:
Thus Phillis antedates the day.
_On Phillis, walking before Sunrise_

(_b_) In _blank verse_ conflicting movements are also apparent. In
Milton the style reaches a magnificent climax. But in the drama,
especially in the drama of minor playwrights of the ability of Suckling
and Davenant, it becomes a huddle of verse and prose, so bad that one
hesitates to say where the verse ends and the prose begins. It is the
last stage of poetical decrepitude.

(_c_) The _heroic couplet_ begins to appear, ushering in its long
reign. We have it appearing as early as Spenser’s _Shepherd’s Calendar_
(1579) and Sandys’s _Ovid_ (1626); but the true stopped couplet, as
used by Dryden and developed by Pope, is usually set down to the credit
of Cowley’s _Davideis_ (1637), or Denham’s _Cooper’s Hill_ (1641),
or the shorter poems of =Edmund Waller (1606–87)=, who wrote stopped
couplets as early as 1623. The heroic couplet will receive further
notice in the next chapter.

TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

=2. Prose.= In prose also we see the opposing tendencies. The principal
movement is toward ornate prose, in Browne, Jeremy Taylor, Clarendon,
and in the Scottish writer =William Drummond (1585–1649)=, whose
_Cypress Grove_ (1616) is in the fashionable funereal vein. In the
middle style we have the precision of Hobbes in _The Leviathan_. At the
other extreme from the ornate, the miscellaneous writers adopt great
simplicity. Of this class, which includes Howell and Fe11tham, the best
example is Isaac Walton, whose artless prose is shown in the following
specimen:

_Piscator._ O sir, doubt not but that angling is an art.
Is it not an art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly? a
trout that is more sharp-sighted than any hawk you have named,
and more watchful and timorous than your high-mettled merlin
is bold! and yet I doubt not to catch a brace or two to-morrow
for a friend’s breakfast. Doubt not, therefore, sir, but that
angling is an art, and an art worth your learning; the question
is rather, whether you be capable of learning it? for angling
is somewhat like poetry, men are to be born so--I mean with
inclinations to it, though both may be heightened by discourse
and practice; but he that hopes to be a good angler must not
only bring an inquiring, searching, observing wit, but he must
bring a large measure of hope and patience, and a love and
propensity to the art itself; but having once got and practised
it, then doubt not but angling will prove to be so pleasant that
it will prove to be like virtue, a reward to itself.
_The Compleat Angler_

EXERCISES

1. The following extracts illustrate the good and bad features of the
“metaphysical” style in poetry. Comment upon each feature as it appears
to you, and estimate the value of the style as a literary medium.

(1) Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to airy thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two,
Thy soul, the fix’d foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th’ other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,
It leans and hearkens after it,
And grows erect as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must
Like th’ other foot obliquely run,
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.
DONNE, _A Valediction forbidding Mourning_

(2) But at my back I always hear
Time’s winged chariot hurrying near,
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
MARVELL, _To his Coy Mistress_

(3) When, like committed linnets, I
With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetness, mercy, majesty,
And glories of my King;
When I shall voice aloud, how good
He is, how great should be,
Enlarged winds that curl the flood
Know no such liberty.

Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.
LOVELACE, _To Althea, from Prison_

(4) Each little pimple had a tear in it,
To wail the fault its rising did commit.
DRYDEN, _Upon the Death of the Lord Hastings_

(5) The plants, whose luxury was lopped,
Or age with crutches underpropped,
Whose wooden carcases are grown
To be but coffins of their own,
Revive, and at her general dole,
Each receives his ancient soul.
CLEVELAND

(6) Her finger was so small, the ring,
Would not stay on, which they did bring,
It was too wide a peck:
And to say the truth (for out it must)
It looked like the great collar (just)
About our young colt’s neck.

Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice, stole in and out,
As if they feared the light:
But O, she dances such a way!
No sun upon an Easter-day
Is half so fine a sight.

Her cheeks so rare a white was on,
No daisy makes comparison,
(Who sees them is undone),
For streaks of red were mingled there,
Such as are on a Catherine pear
The side that’s next the sun.
SUCKLING, _A Ballad upon a Wedding_

2. Compare the following examples of Milton’s earlier and later blank
verse respectively. Observe the metrical dexterity, the cadence, and
the vowel-music.

(1) They left me then, when the gray-hooded even,
Like a sad votarist in palmer’s weed
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phœbus’ wain.
But where they are, and why they came not back,
Is now the labour of my thoughts; ’tis likeliest
They had engaged their wandering steps too far;
And envious darkness, ere they could return,
Had stole them from me: else, O thievish night,
Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end,
In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars,
That nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps
With everlasting oil, to give due light
To the misled and lonely traveller?
_Comus_

(2) Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move
Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird
Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid,
Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year
Seasons return; but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer’s rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair,
Presented with a universal blank
Of nature’s works to me expung’d and ras’d,
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
_Paradise Lost_

3. The following paragraph is fairly typical both of the prose of
Jeremy Taylor and of that of the period in general. Point out the good
and bad qualities of the style, and estimate its value.

Anger is a perfect alienation of the mind from prayer, and
therefore is contrary to that attention which presents our
prayers in a right line to God. For so have I seen a lark rising
from his bed of grass, and soaring upwards, singing as he
rises, and hopes to get to heaven, and climb above the clouds;
but the poor bird was beaten back with the loud sighings of an
eastern wind, and his motion made irregular and inconstant,
descending more at every breath of the tempest than it could
recover by the libration and frequent weighing of his wings,
till the little creature was forced to sit down and pant, and
stay till the storm was over; and then it made a prosperous
flight, and did rise and sing, as if it had learned music and
motion from an angel, as he passed sometimes through the air,
about his ministries here below. So is the prayer of a good
man: when his affairs have required business, and his business
was matter of discipline, and his discipline was to pass upon a
sinning person, or had a design of charity, his duty met with
the infirmities of a man, and anger was its instrument; and the
instrument became stronger than the prime agent, and raised a
tempest, and overruled the man; and then his prayer was broken,
and his thoughts were troubled, and his words went up towards a
cloud; and his thoughts pulled them back again, and made them
without intention; and the good man sighs for his infirmity, but
must be content to lose that prayer, and he must recover it when
his anger is removed, and his spirit is becalmed, made even as
the brow of Jesus, and smooth like the heart of God; and then it
ascends to heaven upon the wings of the holy dove, and dwells
with God, till it returns, like the useful bee, laden with a
blessing and the dew of heaven.
JEREMY TAYLOR, _On Prayer_

4. Explain the references in the following passages. What parts of
Milton’s character and literary works are emphasized?

(1) Nor second he, that rode sublime
Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstasy,
The secret of th’ abyss to spy.
He passed the flaming bounds of place and time--
The living throne, the sapphire-blaze,
Where angels tremble while they gaze,
He saw; but, blasted with excess of light,
Closed his eyes in endless night.
GRAY, _The Progress of Poesy_

(2) Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour.[131]
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart;
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
So didst thou travel on life’s common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
WORDSWORTH, _To Milton_

(3) He left the upland lawns and serene air
Wherefrom his soul her noble nurture drew,
And reared his helm among the unquiet crew
Battling beneath; the morning radiance rare
Of his young brow amid the tumult there
Grew grim with sulphurous heat and sanguine dew:
Yet through all soilure they who marked him knew
The sign of his life’s dayspring, calm and fair.
But when peace came, peace fouler far than war,
And mirth more dissonant than battle’s tone,
He, with a scornful sigh of that clear soul,
Back to his mountain clomb, now bleak and frore,
And with the awful night he dwelt alone,
In darkness, listening to the thunder’s roll.
ERNEST MYERS, _Milton_

5. “Milton neither belonged to nor founded a school.” Expand this
statement, and try to account for the truth of it.

6. Point out the effects, good and bad, of the civil and religious
strife upon the literature of the time.

7. “Both in prose and poetry the period is a turning-point in the
history of English literature.” Discuss this statement.

8. Write a brief essay on “The Poetry of Puritanism.”

CHAPTER VII

THE AGE OF DRYDEN

TIME-CHART OF THE CHIEF AUTHORS

_The thick line shows the period of active literary work._

1650 1660 1670 1680 1690 1700 1710
| | | | | | |
| |║[132] | | | |║ |
Dryden |........|║===================================║ |
(1631–1700) | | | | | | |
| | ║[133] | ║ |║ | | |
Butler |........|.║===========║...|║ | | |
(1612–80) | | | | | | |
| | | ║ ║ | | | |
Wycherley |........|........|..║===║ |........|........|........|
(1640–1715) | | | | | | |
| | |║ | | ║[134]║| |
Congreve | | |║.......|........|.║=====║|........|
(1670–1729) | | | | | | |
| |║ | ║[135]║| ║ | | |
Bunyan |........|║=========║=====║|.....║ | | |
(1628–1688) | | | ║ | | | |
| |║ | | | | ║ |
Evelyn |........|║======================================║ |
(1620–1706) | | | | | | |
| |║ | | | | ║ |
Pepys |........|║=====================================║ |
(1633–1703) |

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND (1660–1700)

Three historical events deeply influenced the literary movements of the
time: the Restoration of the year 1660; the Roman Catholic controversy
that raged during the latter half of Charles II’s reign; and the
Revolution of the year 1688.

=1. The Restoration (1660).= The Restoration of Charles II brought
about a revolution in our literature. With the collapse of the Puritan
Government there sprang up activities that had been so long suppressed
that they flew to violent excesses. The Commonwealth had insisted on
gravity and decorum in all things; the Restoration encouraged a levity
that often became immoral and indecent. Along with much that is sane
and powerful, this latter tendency is prominent in the writing of the
time, especially in the comedies.

=2. The Religious Question.= The strength of the religious-political
passions of the time is reflected in the current literature. The
religion of the King was suspect; that of his brother James was
avowedly Papist; and James was the heir-apparent to the crown. There
was a prevalent suspicion of the Catholics, which, though it might have
been groundless, was of such depth and intensity that it colors all
the writings of the time. The lies of Titus Oates added to the popular
frenzy, so that when the Earl of Shaftesbury sought to exclude James
from the throne and supplant him by the Duke of Monmouth it needed all
the efforts of Charles (himself secretly a Roman Catholic) to save
his brother. The famous poem of Dryden, _Absalom and Achitophel_, is
an outstanding example of a kind of poem that abounded during those
troubled years.

=3. The Revolution (1688).= James succeeded to the throne in 1685;
but so soon did he reveal his Roman Catholic prejudices that he was
rejected in three years and was replaced by Protestant sovereigns.
Henceforth religious passions diminish in intensity; and the literature
of the succeeding years tends to emphasize the political rather than
the religious side of public affairs.

THE NEW CLASSICISM

By the year 1660 Elizabethan romanticism had all but spent itself. Of
the great figures of the earlier era only one survived, John Milton,
and he had still to write _Paradise Lost_; but in everything Milton was
of the past. At the Restoration he retired and worked in obscurity, and
his great poem reveals no signs of the time in which his later years
were cast.

At the Restoration the break with the past was almost absolute. It
involved our literature in the deepest degree; subject and style took
on a new spirit and outlook, a different attitude and aim. Hence a
post-Restoration period is often set up as the converse and antithesis
of the previous Elizabethan age. It is called _classical_, as opposed
to the Elizabethan _romanticism_. Though the contrast between the two
epochs need not be over-emphasized, yet the differences are very great.
Let us see in what respects the new spirit is shown.

=1. Imitation of the Ancients.= Lacking the genius of the Elizabethans,
the authors of the time turned to the great classical writers, in
particular to the Latin writers, for guidance and inspiration. This
habit, quite noticeable during the time of Dryden, deepened and
hardened during the succeeding era of Pope--so much so that the latter
laid down as a final test of excellence

Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem;
To copy nature is to copy them.

=2. Imitation of the French.= Charles II had spent most of his years
of exile in France, and when he returned to England he brought with
him a new admiration for French literature. In particular the effects
of this penetrated very deeply into the drama, especially into comedy,
the most copious literary product of the Restoration. Of French comedy
the great Molière was the outstanding exponent, and his influence was
very great. In the more formal tragedy French and classical models were
combined to produce a new type called the _heroic play_. The type is
well represented by Dryden’s _Tyrannic Love_.

=3. The “Correct” School.= The Elizabethans too had drawn upon the
ancients, but they used their gains freely and joyously, bending the
work of the classical authors to their own wills. The imitative work
of the new school was of a frigid and limited quality. The school
of Dryden was loath to alter; the age of Pope abandoned freedom
altogether. Pope puts it thus:

Those Rules of old, discovered, not devised,
Are Nature still, but Nature methodised.

Thus they evolved a number of “rules,” which can usefully be summarized
in the injunction “Be correct.” “Correctness” means avoidance of
enthusiasm; modern opinions moderately expressed; strict care and
accuracy in poetical technique; and humble imitation of the style of
the Latin classics.

Dryden did not attain altogether to this ideal. Pope and his immediate
successors called him “copious,” thus hinting at a lack of care and
an unrestrained vigor that were survivals of an earlier virility. Yet
Dryden has the new tendency very clearly marked. To him Dr. Johnson
first applied the epithet “Augustan,” saying that Dryden did to English
literature what Augustus did to Rome, which he “found of brick and left
of marble.” Dryden is the first great exponent of the new ideas that
were to dominate our literature till the end of the eighteenth century.

JOHN DRYDEN (1631–1700)

=1. His Life.= Dryden’s life was a long one. It was, in addition,
an exceedingly fruitful one. For forty years he continued to produce
an abundance of literary works of every kind--poems, plays, and prose
works. The quality of it was almost unfailingly good, and at the end of
his life his poetry was as fresh and vivacious as it had been in the
prime of his manhood.

Of Dryden it can be said without qualification that he is
representative of his age. Indeed, it has been urged as a fault against
his character that he adapted himself with too facile a conscience to
the changing fortunes of the times. His earliest work of any importance
is pre-Restoration, and consists of a laudation of Oliver Cromwell. At
the Restoration he changed his views, attaching himself to the fortunes
of Charles II and to the Church of England. This loyalty brought its
rewards in honors and pensions, so that for many years Dryden was
easily the most considerable literary figure in the land. Yet his
career was not without its thorns, for smaller men were busy with
their slanders. On the accession of James II in 1685 Dryden changed
his faith and political persuasion, becoming a Roman Catholic. To his
new beliefs he adhered steadfastly, even when in 1688 the Revolution
brought certain disasters to such public men as adhered to Catholicism.
Thus Dryden lost his posts of Poet Laureate and Historiographer Royal.
The Laureateship was conferred on Shadwell, his most rancorous foe; and
Dryden retired with dignity to sustain his last years with his literary
labors. To this last period of his career we owe some of his finest
translations and narrative poems. When he died in 1700 he was accorded
a splendid funeral in Westminster Abbey, though it was many years
before his grave was marked by a tombstone.

=2. His Poetry.= Dryden began his life’s work with poetry; he
concluded it with poetry; and the years between are starred with
the brightness of his greater poems. As early as February, 1664,
Pepys records in his diary that he met “Mr. Dryden, the poet”; and
he remained “Mr. Dryden, the poet,” till the day of his death. It is
therefore as a poet that Dryden is chiefly to be judged.

His first published poem of any consequence was a series of heroic
stanzas on the death of the Protector Oliver Cromwell (1659). It
consists of thirty-seven quatrains of no particular merit. They
move stiffly, and are quite uninspired by any political or personal
enthusiasm, but they show a certain angular force and a little metrical
dexterity. Two stanzas will show the art of the earliest Dryden:

His grandeur he derived from Heaven alone,
For he was great, ere Fortune made him so;
And wars, like mists that rise against the sun,
Made him but greater seem, not greater grow.

No borrowed bays his temples did adorn,
But to our crown he did fresh laurels bring;
Nor was his virtue poisoned, soon as born,
With the too early thoughts of being king.

In 1660 he made a great step forward in poetical craftsmanship by
publishing _Astrœa Redux_, in celebration of Charles II’s return. The
poem represents a complete reversal of the poet’s political opinions;
but it is nevertheless a noteworthy literary advance. In its handling
of the subject it shows a firmer grip and stronger common sense; in
its style a new command of sonorous and dignified phrasing; and (as
important a feature as any of the others) it is written in the heroic
couplet.

Methinks I see those crowds on Dover’s strand,
Who in their haste to welcome you to land
Choked up the beach with their still growing store,
And made a wilder torrent on the shore.

Here we see Dryden, though not yet at his best, coming to his own. The
couplet marches with a steady but animated ring and swing. Its phrasing
is apt and vivid; and it possesses a strength and music that are new.
It marks the beginning of that adherence to the use of the couplet
which was to be Dryden’s lifelong habit, and which was to mark a new
epoch in our literature.

Two other poems of this year--one on the coronation and one addressed
to the Chancellor, Clarendon,--resemble _Astrœa Redux_ in their main
features, and are little inferior.

In 1666 he produced _Annus Mirabilis_, dealing with the extraordinary
events of the year, particularly the Fire of London and the Dutch
war. The poem is long, and often dull. When he attempts “style” he
is sometimes florid and ridiculous. Moreover, the meter returns to
the quatrain. The work is inferior to those of 1660, but is still an
advance on the stanzas to Cromwell.

For more than fifteen years succeeding this Dryden devoted himself
almost entirely to the writing of plays. Then, about 1680, events both
political and personal drove him back to the poetical medium, with
results both splendid and astonishing. Political passions over the
Exclusion Bills were at their height, and Dryden appeared as the chief
literary champion of the monarchy in the famous satirical allegory
_Absalom and Achitophel_ (1681). Absalom is the Duke of Monmouth,
the unfortunate aspirant to the succession; and Achitophel is his
daring but injudicious counselor Shaftesbury. These two are surrounded
by a cluster of lesser politicians, upon each of whom Dryden bestows
a Biblical name of deadly aptness and transparency. The satire is of
amazing force and range, rarely stooping to scurrility, but punishing
its victims with devastating scorn and a wrathful aloofness; and it
takes shape in the best quality of Dryden’s couplet. Long practice in
dramatic couplet-writing had now given Dryden a new metrical facility,
tightening and strengthening the measure, and giving it crispness and
energy without allowing it to become violent and obscure. We give a
specimen of this measure, which in many ways represents the summit of
Dryden’s poetical achievement:

Of these the false Achitophel was first;
A name to all succeeding ages curst:
For close designs and crooked counsels fit;
Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit;
Restless, unfixed in principles and place;
In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace:
A fiery soul, which, working out its way,
Fretted the pigmy body to decay,
And o’er-informed the tenement of clay.
A daring pilot in extremity;
Pleased with the danger when the waves went high,
He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit,
Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Great wits are sure to madness near allied,
And thin partitions do their bounds divide;
Else why should he, with wealth and honour blest,
Refuse his age the needful hours of rest?
Punish a body which he could not please;
Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease?
And all to leave what with his toil he won,
To that unfeathered two-legged thing--a son.

Of such satire as this Dryden himself says not unfairly, “It is not
bloody, but it is ridiculous enough. I avoided the mention of great
crimes, and applied myself to the representing of blind sides and
little extravagances.” The hitting is hard, but not foul.

Next year he produced another political poem, _The Medal_, which called
forth an answer from an old friend of Dryden’s, Shadwell. Dryden
retorted in _MacFlecknoe_, a personal lampoon of gigantic power and
ferocity, but degraded with much coarseness and personal spite. A
similar poem is the second part of _Absalom and Achitophel_, to which
poem Dryden contributed a violent attack on Shadwell, giving him the
name of Og. The main part of the work was composed by Nahum Tate, a
satellite of Dryden’s.

A new poetical development was manifest in _Religio Laici_ (1682)
and _The Hind and the Panther_ (1687). The first poem is a thesis in
support of the English Church; the second, written after the accession
of James, is an allegorical defense of the Roman Catholic faith.
Alterations like these in Dryden’s opinions gave free play to the
gibes of his enemies. In spite of their difference in opinion, these
poems have much in common: a clear light of argument, a methodical
arrangement of ideas, and a mastery of the couplet that often lifts
the drabness of the expository theme into passages of noble feeling
and splendor. The allegorical treatment of _The Hind and the Panther_
allows of a livelier handling; but the poem is very long, consisting of
more than one part, and much of it is dogmatic assertion and tedious
argument.

After the Revolution, when he was driven from his public appointments,
Dryden occupied himself chiefly with translations. He once more used
the couplet medium, turning Virgil, Ovid, and Boccaccio into English,
and adapting Chaucer to the taste of his time. The translation is so
free that much of it is Dryden’s own, and all of it teems with his own
individuality. We give a passage to illustrate both the latest phase of
his couplet and his power as a narrative poet:

Scarce the third glass of measured hours was run,
When like a fiery meteor sunk the sun,
The promise of a storm; the shifting gales
Forsake by fits and fill the flagging sails;
Hoarse murmurs of the main from far were heard,
And night came on, not by degrees prepared,
But all at once; at once the winds arise,
The thunders roll, the forky lightning flies.
In vain the master issues out commands,
In vain the trembling sailors ply their hands;
The tempest unforeseen prevents their care,
And from the first they labour in despair.
The giddy ship betwixt the winds and tides,
Forced back and forwards, in a circle rides,
Stunned with the different blows; then shoots amain,
Till counterbuffed she stops, and sleeps again.
_Cymon and Iphigenia_

Though it is small in bulk, Dryden’s lyrical poetry is of much
importance. The longest and the best-known pieces of this class are his
_Song for St. Cecilia’s Day_ (1687) and _Alexander’s Feast_, written
for the same anniversary in 1697. Both show Dryden as a master of
melodious verse and of a varied and powerful style. The numerous lyrics
that appear in his plays are charming. One stanza will illustrate this
sweetly facile phase of the poet’s art:

On a bank, beside a willow,
Heaven her covering, earth her pillow,
Sad Amynta sighed alone;
From the cheerless dawn of morning
Till the dews of night returning,
Singing thus she made her moan:
“Hope is banished,
Joys are vanished,
Damon, my beloved, is gone!”

His numerous prologues and epilogues, written in couplets, show
abundant wit and vivacity, yet they habitually appeal to the worst
instincts of his audiences, being very often coarse and unmannerly.

=3. His Drama.= In his dramatic work, as elsewhere, Dryden is a
faithful reflex of his time. His methods and objects vary as the public
appreciation of them waxes and wanes, with the result that he gives us
a historical summary of the popular fancy.

His first play was a comedy, _The Wild Gallant_ (1663), which had but
a very moderate success. It has the complicated plot of the popular
Spanish comedies and the “humors” of Jonson’s. After this unsuccessful
attempt at public favor Dryden turned to tragedy, which henceforth
nearly monopolizes his dramatic work.

His tragedies fall into two main groups:

(_a_) _The Heroic Play._ This is a new type of the tragedy that
became prominent after the Restoration, and of which Dryden is one of
the earliest and most skillful exponents. The chief features of the
new growth are the choice of a great heroic figure for the central
personage; a succession of stage incidents of an exalted character,
which often, through the inexpertness of the dramatist, became
ridiculous; a loud and ranting style; and the rhymed couplet. Dryden’s
_Rival Ladies_ (1663) is a hybrid between the comic and heroic species
of play; _The Indian Emperor_ (1665), _Tyrannic Love_ (1669), _The
Conquest of Granada_ (1670), and _Aurengzebe_ (1675) show the heroic
kind at its best and worst. Though Dryden is heavily weighted with the
ponderous mechanism of the heroic play, his gigantic literary strength
is often sufficient to give it an attraction and a kind of heavy-footed
animation.

(_b_) _His Blank-verse Tragedies._ The heroic play was so easily
parodied and made ridiculous, that the wits of the Restoration were
not slow to make a butt of it. Their onslaughts were not without their
effect on Dryden, for already in _Aurengzebe_ a shamefaced weakening of
the heroic mannerisms is apparent. In the prologue to this play Dryden
fairly admits it, saying that he

Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rime.
Passion’s too fierce to be in fetters bound,
And Nature flies him like enchanted ground.

His next play, _All for Love, or The World well Lost_ (1678), is in
blank verse, and is considered to be his dramatic masterpiece. For
subject he chose that of Shakespeare’s _Antony and Cleopatra_. It
was a daring thing to attempt what Shakespeare had already done; but
Dryden, while following the earlier play somewhat closely, never
actually copies it. He produces a play of a distinctly different
nature, and of a high merit. The characters are well drawn and
animated, and the style, though lacking the daimonic force of
Shakespeare’s at his best, is noble and restrained. We give Dryden’s
handling of the death of Cleopatra, a passage which should be compared
with that of Shakespeare given on p. 121.

(_Antony is lying dead on the stage; Charmion and Iras, the
Queen’s two handmaidens, are in attendance on her._)

_Charmion._ To what end
These ensigns of your pomp and royalty?

_Cleopatra._ Dull that thou art! Why, ’tis to meet my love;
As when I saw him first, on Cydnos’ bank,
All sparkling, like a goddess....
Haste, haste, both,
And dress the bride of Antony.

_Charmion._ ’Tis done.

_Cleopatra._ Now seat me by my lord; I claim this place....
Reach me the casket.

_Iras._ Underneath the fruit
The aspic lies.

_Cleopatra._ Welcome, thou kind deceiver!

[_Putting aside the leaves._

Thou best of thieves, who with an easy key
Dost open life, and, unperceived by us,
Even steal us from ourselves....
Haste, bare my arm, and rouse the serpent’s fury.

[_Holds out her arm, and draws it back._

Coward flesh,
Wouldst thou conspire with Cæsar to betray me,
As thou wert none of mine? I’ll force thee to it,
And not be sent by him,
But bring, myself, my soul to Antony.

[_Turns aside, and then shows her arm bloody._

Take hence; the work is done....

_Charmion._ The next is ours.

_Iras._ Now, Charmion, to be worthy
Of our great queen and mistress.

[_They apply the aspics._

_Cleopatra._ Already, death, I feel thee in my veins:
I go with such a will to find my lord,
That we shall quickly meet.
A heavy numbness creeps through every limb,
And now ’tis at my head: my eyelids fall,
And my dear love is vanquished in a mist.
Where shall I find him, where? O turn me to him,
And lay me on his breast! Cæsar, thy worst;
Now part us, if thou canst. [_Dies._

[_Iras sinks down at her feet, and dies; Charmion
stands behind her chair, as dressing her head._

After the Revolution he wrote _Don Sebastian_ (1690), _Cleomenes_
(1691), and _Love Triumphant_ (1694). The last was a tragi-comedy and
a failure. The other two, however, were quite up to the average of his
plays. In addition, at various stages of his career he collaborated
with Lee in two other tragedies, and attempted, with lamentable
results, to improve upon Shakespeare’s _Tempest_ and _Troilus and
Cressida_.

=4. His Prose.= Dryden’s versatility is apparent when we observe
that in prose, as well as in poetry and drama, he attains to primacy
in his generation. In the case of prose he has one rival, John Bunyan.
No single item of Dryden’s prose work is of very great length; but in
his _Essay of Dramatic Poesie_ (1668), in his numerous dedicatory
epistles and prefaces, and in the scanty stock of his surviving letters
we have a prose _corpus_ of some magnitude. The general subject
of his prose is literary criticism, and that of a sane and vigorous
quality. The style is free, but not too free; there are slips of
grammar, but they are not many. The _Essay of Dramatic Poesie_
is his longest single prose work. It is cast into dialogue form, in
which four characters, one of whom is Dryden himself, discuss such
well-worked themes as ancients _versus_ moderns and blank verse
_versus_ rhyme. Studded throughout the book are passages of rare
ability, one of which is the following, which illustrates not only his
prose style, but also his acute perception of literary values:

To begin, then, with Shakespeare. He was the man who, of all
modern and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most
comprehensive soul. All the images of nature were still present
to him, and he drew them not laboriously, but luckily; when
he describes anything, you more than see it, you feel it too.
Those who accuse him to have wanted learning, give him the
greater commendation. He was naturally learned; he needed not
the spectacles of books to read nature; he looked inwards and
found her there. I cannot say he is everywhere alike; were he
so, I should do him injury to compare him with the greatest
of mankind. He is many times flat, insipid; his comic wit
degenerating into clenches, his serious swelling into bombast.
But he is always great when some great occasion is presented to
him; no man can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and
did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets,
_Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi._
VIRG., _Ecl., i, 26_

RESTORATION COMEDY

In comedy alone Dryden showed a certain incapacity; his mind seemed to
be too rugged and unresilient to catch the sharper moods of the current
wit. Fortunately this weakness of his was atoned for by the activities
of a brilliant group of dramatists who made Restoration comedy a thing
apart in English literature.

The new comedy, of a slower growth than the new heroic play, owed
much of its inspiration to French comedy. It marked a new stage in
the civilization of England. The plays of the Shakespearian era were
beginning to be thought out of date. In his diary Evelyn notes that
“the old plays begin to disgust this refined age.” Though the age was
no doubt refined in certain respects, it was also decadent, and this
decadent spirit is reflected in its comedy.

The novel features of the type are:

(_a_) The theme is mainly of courtiers and their class, their vices and
affectations, their love-intrigues and money-grabbing. The characters
are still to a great extent those of the “humorsome” quality so common
in the time of Jonson. Their names reveal their dispositions: Sir
Fopling Flutter; Scrub (a servant); Colonel Bully; Sir John Brute;
Squire Sullen; Gibbet (a highwayman); Lady Bountiful. Such characters
as these are involved in plots of great and unnatural complication,
with much bustle and unlimited love-intrigue. In rare cases, as in some
of the plays of Shadwell, the characters are much more human and the
conditions more natural; and then we obtain deeply interesting glimpses
of the habits of the time. But in general the whole atmosphere of the
comedies is artificial and unreal.

(_b_) The prevailing love-theme is treated in a characteristic fashion
which is fortunately rare in English. It is not handled coarsely;
indeed, the age shows a ridiculous squeamishness at the grosser forms
of vice; but it is handled with a cool licentiousness and a vicious
pleasure that are often exceedingly clever, but always repulsive. It is
art, but art of a perverted kind.

(_c_) The style of the comedy suits the treatment. It is prose of
a neat and brilliant kind: deft and forcible, clean-cut and precise.
The style of Congreve, a specimen of which is given below, is a model
of its kind.

=William Congreve (1670–1729).= Though Congreve is not the first in
time, he is probably the first in merit among the comedy-writers. He
had a long life, but a glance at the table at the head of the chapter
will show that only a short period of his life was productive of
literary work. His plays were produced between 1693 and 1700. The last
play was not successful, and repeated attacks were forthcoming upon his
defects, so he wrote no more.

His first comedy was _The Old Bachelor_ (1693); then came _The Double
Dealer_ (1693 or 1694), _Love for Love_ (1695), and _The Way of the
World_ (1700). In 1697 he produced one tragedy, _The Mourning Bride_,
which had no success. The earlier plays have a slight touch of
seriousness, which is rarer still in the later comedies.

All are marked by the same features. The characters are numerous,
brilliant, and sharply defined. In each case, however, they are too
one-sided to be real; but they fulfill their purpose in the plays. The
plots are full of scandalous notions delicately adumbrated; and the
style is as keen and deadly as a sharp sword.

The following is a passage from _The Way of the World_. Two gentleman
are backbiting an acquaintance.

_Fainall._ He comes to town in order to equip himself for
travel.

_Mirabell._ For travel! Why the man that I mean is above
forty.

_Fainall._ No matter for that; ’tis for the honour of
England, that all Europe should know that we have blockheads of
all ages.

_Mirabell._ I wonder there is not an act of parliament to
save the credit of the nation, and prohibit the exportation of
fools.

_Fainall._ By no means, ’tis better as ’tis; ’tis better to
trade with a little loss, than to be quite eaten up with being
overstocked.

_Mirabell._ Pray, are the follies of this knight-errant,
and those of the squire his brother, anything related?

_Fainall._ Not at all; Witwoud grows by the knight, like
a medlar grafted on a crab. One will melt in your mouth, and
t’other set your teeth on edge; one is all pulp, and the other
all core.

_Mirabell._ So one will be rotten before he be ripe, and
the other will be rotten without ever being ripe at all.

OTHER COMEDY-WRITERS

=1. William Wycherley (1640–1715).= The productive period of
Wycherley’s life was brief but fruitful. He produced four plays in five
years: _Love in a Wood_ (1672), _The Gentleman Dancing Master_ (1673),
_The Country Wife_ (1675), and _The Plain Dealer_ (1677). He was a man
of good family, and he was at Court, where he seems to have been no
better than the average courtier of his time.

His contemporaries call his plays “manly.” By this they probably refer
to a boisterous indecency that riots through his comedies, in which
nearly every person is a fool, and every clever man a rogue and a rake.
He is much coarser in the grain than Congreve, and cannot keep his work
at such a high level. Yet he shows much wit in handling dialogue, and
has a sharp, though distorted, vision for human weaknesses.

=2. George Etheredge (1635–91).= Not much is known regarding the life
of Etheredge; but he appears to have been a courtier, and to have
served abroad. If all stories about him are true, he had an ample
share of the popular vices. He is said to have been killed by tumbling
downstairs while drunk. His three plays are _The Comical Revenge, or
Love in a Tub_ (1664), _She Would if She Could_ (1668), and _The Man of
Mode_ (1676). They are more uneven than Wycherley’s, and at their worst
are grosser; but they are clever, and can be lively and amusing.

=3. Sir John Vanbrugh (1666–1726).= Vanbrugh’s career, though much
of it is obscure, seems to have been a varied one, for at different
times he was a soldier, a herald, and an architect. His best three
comedies are _The Relapse_ (1697), _The Provoked Wife_ (1698), and _The
Confederacy_ (1705).

In the general opinion Vanbrugh is held to be a good second to
Congreve, but his plays are exceedingly unequal. His wit is rather more
genial than is common at this time, and sometimes his touch is firm and
sure.

=4. Thomas Shadwell (1640–92).= Dryden’s abuse of Shadwell has given
the latter a notoriety that he scarcely deserves. Little is known about
his life except that he was created Poet Laureate at the deposition
of Dryden in 1688. He wrote many plays, some of which were popular in
their day. The best three are _The Sullen Lovers_ (1668), _The Squire
of Alsatia_ (1688), and _Bury Fair_ (1689).

Shadwell is coarse without being clever to atone for it. His characters
are often wooden and unreal, but he has the knack of laying his hand
on good material. His _Squire of Alsatia_ is full of interesting
information about the life of the time, and Scott drew largely upon it
for _The Fortunes of Nigel_.

=5. George Farquhar (1678–1707).= He had an adventurous career, was in
turn a clergyman, an actor, and a soldier, and died when he was thirty
years old. The pathos of his early death has given him a fame of its
own. He wrote seven plays, the best of which are the last two, viz.,
_The Recruiting Officer_ (1706) and _The Beaux’ Stratagem_ (1707).

Farquhar comes late among the Restoration dramatists, and by this time
the cynical immorality of the age seems to have worn thin. His temper
is certainly more genial, and his wit, though it has lapses, is more
decorous. _The Beaux’ Stratagem_ (see pp. 225–6) is a lively and
ingenious comedy with a cleverly engineered plot.

RESTORATION TRAGEDY

With regard to tragedy, Dryden is amply representative of his age.
The period is less rich in tragedy than it is in comedy, for several
reasons. (_a_) The spirit of the time was too irresponsible and
vivacious to provide a healthy breeding-ground for this type of play.
(_b_) The average poetical standard was not high; and tragedy of
a superior type needs a high level of poetic merit. (_c_) There
was a lack of fresh models, the tragedians being dependent on the
Elizabethan plays (which were not popular), and on the classical French
tragedies. Yet there are a few tragedians who deserve a brief mention.

=1. Thomas Otway (1651–85).= As was so often the case with the
dramatists of the time, Otway had a varied and troubled career, closed
with a miserable death. His first play, _Alcibiades_, was produced
about 1675; then followed _Don Carlos_ (1676), _The Orphan_ (1680), and
his masterpiece, _Venice Preserved_ (1682).

_Venice Preserved_ (see p. 226) for long held the reputation of
being the best tragedy outside Shakespeare, and that reputation has
kept it in the forefront. It shows his work at its best. It has a
rugged and somber force, and reveals a considerable skill in working
out a dramatic situation. But Otway tends to lay on the horrors too
thickly; his style is unreliable, and his comic passages are farce of
the coarsest kind. If he is second to Shakespeare, he is a very bad
second.

=2. Nathaniel Lee (1653–92).= Lee’s life is the usual tale of mishaps,
miseries, and drunkenness, with a taint of madness as an additional
calamity. He wrote many tragedies, some of which are _Nero_ (1673),
_Sophonisba_ (1676), _The Rival Queens_ (1677), and _Mithridates_
(1678). He also collaborated with Dryden in the production of two
plays.

During his own time Lee’s name became a byword to distinguish a kind of
wild, raving style, which in part at least seems to have been a product
of his madness. But he can write well when the spirit is in him; he has
a command of pathos, and all through his work he has touches of real
poetic quality.

=3. Elkanah Settle (1648–1724).= Settle was in some ways the butt of
his literary friends, and Dryden has given him prominence by attacking
him in his satires. In his day he obtained some popularity with a
heroic play, _The Empress of Morocco_ (1673). It is a poor specimen of
its kind, but his other dramas are worse.

=4. John Crowne (1640–1703).= Crowne is another of the dramatists who
attacked Dryden and who were in turn assailed by the bigger man. A
voluminous playwright, Crowne’s best-known works are the tragedies of
_Caligula_ (1698), a heroic play, and _Thyestes_, in blank verse, and a
comedy, _Sir Courtly Nice_ (1685). Crowne is quite a good specimen of
the average Restoration dramatist. The plays show considerable talent
and a fair amount of skill in versification.

=5. Nicholas Rowe (1674–1718).= During his lifetime Rowe was a person
of some importance, and was made Poet Laureate in 1714. His best-known
plays are _Tamerlane_ (1702), _The Fair Penitent_ (1703), and the
popular _Jane Shore_ (1714). Johnson says of him, “His reputation comes
from the reasonableness of some of his scenes, the elegance of his
diction, and the suavity of his verse.”

POETRY

=Samuel Butler (1612–80).= Besides Dryden and the tragedy-writers the
only considerable poet of the period is Samuel Butler, and his fame
rests on one work, _Hudibras_.

As a middle-aged man Butler saw the rough and tumble of the Civil
War, and was nearly fifty when the Restoration occurred. He seems to
have been of humble birth and to have served as a kind of superior
menial in a number of noble households. In the course of these several
occupations he acquired the varied knowledge that he was to put to good
use in his poem. In 1663 he published _Hudibras_, which was at once a
success. Two other parts followed in 1664 and 1678 respectively.

_Hudibras_ was topical, for it was a biting satire on the Puritans, who
were the reverse of popular when the King returned. In general outline
it is modeled upon the adventures of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, who
find their respective parallels in Sir Hudibras and his squire Ralpho.
Sir Hudibras is a Puritan knight who undergoes many absurd adventures;
but the poem lacks the real pathos and genuine insight of its great
Spanish original. It is wholly, almost spitefully, satirical. The poem
is composed artfully. The adventures are well chosen in order to throw
the greatest amount of ridicule on the maladroit hero; the humor,
though keen and caustic, is never absolutely brutal in expression;
there is a freakish spattering of tropes and a mock-solemn parade of
scholastic learning; and (a feature that added immeasurably to its
success) it is cast in an odd jigging octosyllabic couplet. This meter
of _Hudibras_ is remarkable. It is varied and yet uniform, and it
carries the tale with an easy relish. Though it is sometimes almost
doggerel, it has always a kind of distinction, and each couplet is
clenched with an ingenious rhyme that is the most amusing feature of
all.

He was in logic a great critic,
Profoundly drilled in analytic;
He could distinguish, and divide
A hair ’twixt south and south-west side;
On either which he would dispute,
Confute, change hands, and still confute;
He’d undertake to prove by force
Of argument a man’s no horse;
He’d prove a buzzard is no fowl,
And that a lord may be an owl--
A calf, an alderman--a goose, a justice--
And rooks, committee-men and trustees.

He’d run in debt by disputation,
And pay with ratiocination:
All this by syllogism, true
In mood and figure, he would do.
For rhetoric, he could not ope
His mouth but out there flew a trope;
And when he happened to break off
I’ th’ middle of his speech, or cough,
H’ had hard words, ready to show why.
And tell what rules he did it by:
Else, when with greatest art he spoke,
You’d think he talked like other folk;
For all a rhetorician’s rules
Teach nothing but to name his tools.

PROSE-WRITERS

=1. John Bunyan (1628–88).= In the domain of Restoration prose
Bunyan alone contests the supremacy of Dryden. And Bunyan stands in a
class by himself.

The main facts of his life are well known. He himself has given them an
imperishable shape in his _Grace Abounding_ (1666), a kind of religious
autobiography. Though the statements of this book need not be taken too
literally, he seems to have misspent his youth. He draws a horrible
picture of his own depravity; but as religious converts are well known
to delight in depicting their original wickedness in the darkest
colors, this need not be taken too seriously. He served as a soldier
in the Civil War, and seems to have been no better than the ordinary
soldier. Religious conversion came to him about 1656, saving him,
according to his own account, from everlasting fire. In the flood of
his new enlightenment he became a preacher, and, being unlicensed, was
arrested. He was cast into Bedford jail, and remained there for twelve
years (1660–72). He was released, and obtained a license; but this was
canceled in 1675, and he was imprisoned for six months. Beginning with
this latter period we have all his most famous works: _The Pilgrim’s
Progress_ (1677), _The Life and Death of Mr. Badman_ (1680), and _The
Holy War_ (1682). He was eventually set at liberty, and spent his last
years preaching in peace.

Except for _Grace Abounding_, all Bunyan’s major works are allegorical.
In each case the allegory is worked out with ease, force, and
clearness. Readers of all ages enjoy the narrative, while they follow
the double meaning without an effort. The allegorical personages--for
example, Mr. Worldly Wiseman, Mrs. Diffidence, Giant Despair, Madame
Wanton, My Lord Hategood, Mr. Standfast--are fresh and apt, and are
full of an intense interest and a raw dramatic energy. Their individual
adventures combine and react with a variety that keeps the story from
monotony, and yet the simple idea of a forward journey is never lost.
The plot, working upon the fortunes of the different characters,
gives us the nearest approach to the pure novel that had so far been
effected. The numerous natural descriptions are simply done, but they
are full of a great unspoilt ability. Lastly, Bunyan’s style is unique
in prose. Though it is undoubtedly based upon the great Biblical
models, it is quite individual. It is homely, but not vulgar; strong,
but not coarse; equable, but not monotonous; it is sometimes humorous,
but it is never ribald; rarely pathetic, but never sentimental. It has
remained the pattern of a plain style, and is one of the masterpieces
of the English language.

The following extract gives us an idea of Bunyan’s narrative and
descriptive power, and is a fair specimen of his masculine prose:

I saw them in my dream, so far as this valley reached, there
was, on the right hand, a very deep ditch; that ditch it is
into which the blind have led the blind in all ages, and have
both there miserably perished. Again, behold, on the left hand,
there was a very dangerous quag, into which even if a good man
falls, he finds no bottom for his feet to stand on: into that
quag King David once did fall, and had no doubt therein been
smothered, had not He that is able plucked him out. The pathway
was here also exceeding narrow, and therefore good Christian was
the more put to it: for when he sought, in the dark, to shun the
ditch on the one hand, he was ready to tip over into the mire
on the other; also, when he sought to escape the mire, without
great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus
he went on, and I heard him here sigh bitterly; for besides
the danger mentioned above, the pathway here was so dark, that
oft-times when he lifted up his foot to set forward, he knew
not where, or upon what, he should set it next. About the midst
of the valley I perceived the mouth of Hell to be; and it stood
also hard by the way-side. And ever and anon the flame and
smoke would come out in such abundance, with sparks and hideous
noises, that he was forced to put up his sword, and betake
himself to another weapon, called All-prayer. So he cried, in my
hearing, “O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul.” Thus he went
on a great while, yet still the flames would be reaching towards
him. Also he heard doleful voices, and rushings to and fro; so
that sometimes he thought he should be torn to pieces or trodden
down like mire in the streets.
_The Pilgrim’s Progress_

=2. Lord Halifax (1633–95).= Halifax was an outstanding figure in the
House of Lords during the exciting times of the Exclusion Bills, of
which he was the chief opponent. He ranks high as an orator; as an
author his fame rests on a small volume called _Miscellanies_. The
book contains a number of political tracts, such as _The Character of
a Trimmer_, and a piece of a more general character called _Advice to
a Daughter_. In his writings Halifax adopts the manner and attitude of
the typical man of the world: a moderation of statement, a cool and
agreeably acid humor, and a style devoid of flourishes. In him we find
a decided approach to the essay-manner of Addison.

=3. Sir William Temple (1628–99).= Temple also was a politician of
some importance, filled diplomatic posts abroad, and was a moderate
success in affairs at home. He is an example of the moneyed, leisured
semi-amateur in literature. He wrote little and elegantly, as a
gentleman should, and patronized authors of lesser fortune and greater
genius. His best work is his _Essay on Poetry_. His style resembles
that of Halifax in its mundane, cultured reticence; but at times he
has higher flights, in which he shows some skill in the handling of
melodious and rhythmic prose.

=4. John Tillotson (1630–94).= In Tillotson we have one of the popular
preachers of the time, and his _Sermons_ is mentioned by Addison as
being a standard work of its class. He is a literary descendant of the
great school of Jeremy Taylor and Thomas Fuller, but his style lacks
their richness and melody, though it gains in clearness and crispness.

=5. The Diarists.= By a coincidence it happened that the two most
famous diary-writers in English were working at the same time, and
during this period. Not dissimilar in several respects, their works
show both the drawbacks and the advantages of the diary manner. The
books are private documents, and so have no formal pretensions to
literary excellence in style, which is not an undiluted misfortune.
Yet the style is often ragged and incoherent, and much reading at it
produces a feeling of flatness and monotony. But, on the other hand,
being private jottings, they are intimate, and so are interesting, full
of information concerning public and personal affairs, and containing
illuminating comments on people and incidents.

(_a_) Of the two =Samuel Pepys (1633–1703)= is the less worthy as a
man, but his very human quality makes him the livelier and the more
interesting. By occupation he was a kind of civil servant in the
Admiralty, and prospered so well that he became a member of Parliament
and Secretary to the Admiralty. His diary, which was meant to be
strictly personal, was written in cipher, and the reading of it gives
one the impression of surreptitiously peeping into his back window
when the blinds are up. By a multitude of detail the book shows Pepys
to have been mean and lustful; vain and trivial; ambitious, and
yet without the resolution that should attend it. Yet withal he is
intensely human and alive, full of a magpie alertness; and in addition
he has the gift of inspiring in his readers the same vividness of
curiosity. We could ill spare Pepys from among those mortals who have
become immortal in their own despite.

_May 1st, 1669_--Up betimes. Called by my tailor, and here
first put on a summer suit this year; but it was not my fine one
of flowered tabby vest and coloured camelot tunic, because it
was too fine with the gold lace at the bands, that I was afraid
to be seen in it; but put on the stuff suit I made the last
year, which is now repaired; and so did go to the office in it,
and sat all the morning, the day looking as if it would be foul.
At noon home to dinner, and there find my wife extraordinary
fine, with her flowered tabby gown that she made two years ago,
now laced exceeding pretty; and, indeed, was fine all over; and
mighty earnest to go, though the day was very lowering; and she
would have me put on my fine suit, which I did. And so anon we
went alone through the town with our new liveries of serge,
and the horses’ manes and tails tied with red ribbons, and the
standards gilt with varnish, and all clean, and green reins,
that people did mightily look upon us; and, the truth is, I did
not see any coach more pretty, though more gay, than ours all
the day.

(_b_) =John Evelyn (1620–1706)= is the other diarist, and is much
more respectable and much less amusing than Pepys. His diary is a
more finished production in the matter of style, and may have been
produced with an eye on the public. The style is only moderate in
quality, and has little of the freshness that distinguishes Pepys’. The
diary, however, is full of accurate information, and in some of the
more moving incidents, such as that of the Great Fire, it warms into
something like real eloquence.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

Viewed as a whole, this period is seen to be one of transition; and,
being so, it is to a large extent one of stagnation, time’s dead
low-water. The Elizabethan fervor had spent itself, and the new
classicism was still in the making. Yet the time is important in the
development of literary forms and style.

=1. Poetry.= (_a_) _The Lyric._ The form of the lyric shows little
change. In bulk it is inconsiderable, for the lyrical spirit is largely
in abeyance. Outside Dryden, who is the best example of the lyrical
bard, we have the slight work of the courtiers, the =Earl of Dorset
(1637–1706)=, the =Earl of Rochester (1647–80)=, and =Sir Charles
Sedley (16391701)=. These were fashionable men, taking their poetry
with fashionable irresponsibility. Their poems, which nearly all deal
with the love-theme in an artificial manner, have a decided charm and
skill, being modeled on the Caroline poems that were the mode before
the Civil War. Of real originality there is hardly a trace.

(_b_) _The Ode._ Once more Dryden towers pre-eminent in this class of
poem. His two odes on the anniversary of St. Cecilia’s Day and his
other ode on the death of Mrs. Anne Killigrew are among the best of
any period. Written in the irregular Pindaric meter, they are full of
the high passion that gives the artificial medium some real fire and
energy. We give the opening lines of the elegiac poem:

Thou youngest Virgin-Daughter of the skies,
Made in the last promotion of the blest;
Whose palms, new plucked from Paradise,
In spreading branches more sublimely rise,
Rich with immortal green above the rest:
Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star,
Thou roll’st above us in thy wandering race,
Or in procession fixed and regular
Moved with the heaven’s majestic pace,
Or called to more superior bliss,
Thou tread’st with seraphim the vast abyss.

(_c_) _The Satire._ Several circumstances combined to make this age
abound in satirical writing. It was a period of bitter political and
personal contention, of easy morals and subdued enthusiasms, of sharp
wit and acute discrimination. For these reasons satire acquired a new
importance and a sharper edge.

The older satire, such as is represented in the poems of Donne and
of Andrew Marvell (1621–78), was of a more general kind, and seemed
to have been written with deliberate clumsiness and obscurity. These
habits were repugnant to the ideals of the new age, whose satire
is more personal and more vindictive. Its effect is immensely more
incisive, and it obtains a new freshness and point by the use of
the heroic couplet, in which it is almost wholly written. Dryden’s
_Absalom and Achitophel_ is an excellent example of the political
satire, while his _MacFlecknoe_ shows the personal type. Literary
satire is also well represented in _The Rehearsal_ (1671), which
parodied the literary vices of the time, especially those of the heroic
play. This work, which was reproduced year after year, with topical
hits in every new edition, was the work of several hands, though the
Duke of Buckingham receives the chief credit. Butler’s _Hudibras_
is a satire on the Puritans. The miscellaneous satire of John Oldham
(1653–83) had much of the earlier clumsiness.

(_d_) _Narrative poetry._ Dryden’s translations and adaptations of
Chaucer, Virgil, Ovid, and Boccaccio are the chief examples of this
form. Among others, he gives us Chaucer’s _Wife of Bath’s Tale_, _The
Knight’s Tale_, and several tales from Boccaccio. There is no fresh
development to record. Butler’s _Hudibras_ is narrative of a kind,
though the chief interest is satirical.

=2. Drama.= The development of the drama is considerable. We
summarize briefly what has already been indicated.

(_a_) In _tragedy_ the most novel in the matter of form is the _heroic
play_, whose peculiarities have already been pointed out on p. 199.
There is little further development. The tragical faculty is weakening
all through the period, even in comparison with the post-Shakespearian
plays. This type of play is best represented by Dryden’s _All for
Love_ and Otway’s _Venice Preserved_. The characters are becoming more
stagy, and the situations are made as horrible as the ingenuity of the
dramatist can devise.

(_b_) In _comedy_ the advance is noteworthy. The comedy of “humors”
is dying out, though considerable traces of it are still visible. The
influence of the French is giving the comedy a new “snap” and glitter,
and the almost universal medium is prose. Congreve’s _Way of the World_
(1700), Wycherley’s _Country Wife_ (1675), and Farquhar’s _Beaux’
Stratagem_ (1707) are good examples.

=3. Prose.= With the exception of the work of Dryden and Bunyan,
the prose work of the time is of little moment. Dryden’s prose is
almost entirely devoted to literary criticism; Bunyan’s contribution
shows a remarkable development of the prose allegory. The remainder of
the prose-writers deal with political and miscellaneous subjects, with,
in addition, some theological and historical writing.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE

The main tendency of the age, in all departments of literature, is
toward a clear, plain, and forcible style.

=1. Poetry.= The new movement was seen most clearly in the
development of the _heroic couplet_, which was soon to spread
throughout poetry and through much of the drama. As we have seen
(p. 182), in the previous age the couplet had become so loose that
it resembled a cross between prose and verse. An exponent of such a
measure is Chamberlayne (1619–89):

Poor love must dwell
Within no climate but what’s parallel
Unto our honoured births; the envied fate
Of princes oft these burdens find from state
When lowly swains, knowing no parent’s voice
Of negative, make a free and happy choice.

This is a curious liquid measure. The pause is irregularly distributed,
and the rhythm is light and easy.

Cowley and Denham likewise obtain much credit for the introduction of
the new measure; but the chief innovator is Edmund Waller (1606–87).
Dryden, in his dedication to _The Rival Ladies_ says, “Rime has all the
advantages of prose besides its own. But the excellence and dignity of
it were never fully known till Mr. Waller first taught it.” An extract
from Waller will suffice:

While in this park I sing, the listening deer
Attend my passion, and forget to fear;
When to the beeches I report my flame,
They bow their heads, as if they felt the same,
To gods appealing, when I reach their bowers,
With loud complaints, they answer me in showers.

The note here is quite different from that of the previous extract. The
tread of the meter is steady and almost uniform, and the pauses cluster
about the middle and the end of the lines. It must be noted, too, that
a large proportion of Waller’s poetry took this form.

Dryden adopted the heroic couplet, but he improved upon the wooden
respectability of his predecessors’ verse. While he retained all the
couplet’s steadiness and force, he gave it an additional vigor, a
sinewy elegance, and a noble rhythm and beauty. It is worth while
giving another example of his couplet:

A milk-white hind, immortal and unchanged,
Fed on the lawns and in the forest ranged;
Without unspotted, innocent within,
She feared no danger, for she knew no sin.
Yet had she oft been chased with horns and hounds
And Scythian shafts; and many winged wounds
Aimed at her heart; was often forced to fly,
And doomed to death, though fated not to die.
DRYDEN, _The Hind and the Panther_

In its own fashion this passage is as melodious and powerful as some of
the noblest lines of Milton.

In other forms of poetry the style contains little to be commented
upon. The _blank verse_ continues the disintegration that
(with the exception of the verse of Milton) began with the death of
Shakespeare. We give a good example of this Restoration blank verse:

Through a close lane as I pursued my journey,
And meditating on the last night’s vision,
I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double,
Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself;
Her eyes with scalding rheum were galled and red,
And palsy shook her head; her hands seemed withered;
And on her crooked shoulder had she wrapped
The tattered remnant of an old striped hanging.
OTWAY, _The Orphan_

In this passage we can observe the absence of the high poetic fire
of the Elizabethans and the lack of the thunderous depth of Milton.
Observe the regularity of the beat, the uniformity of the pauses, and
the frequency of the hypermetrical ending. There is, nevertheless, a
certain somber, dogged attraction about the style of the passage. The
average blank verse of the time is much less regular, and much less
attractive.

The _lyric_ still shows a reflection of the Caroline manner, as can be
seen in the following example:

Love still has something of the sea,
From whence his mother rose;
No time his slaves from doubt can free,
Nor give their thoughts repose.

They are becalmed in clearest days,
And in rough weather tossed;
They wither under cold delays,
Or are in tempests lost.
SEDLEY (_out of seven stanzas_)

This lyric has an undoubted sweetness of expression, though it is
artificial in thought.

=2. Prose.= Though the prose writing of the period is not great
in bulk, it shows a profound change in style. Previous writers, such
as Browne, Clarendon, and Hobbes, had done remarkable and beautiful
work in prose, but their style had not yet found itself. It was wayward
and erratic, often cumbrous and often obscure, and weighted with a
Latinized construction and vocabulary. In Dryden’s time prose begins
definitely to find its feet. It acquires a general utility and a
permanence; it is smoothed and straightened, simplified and harmonized.
This is the age of average prose, and prepares the way for the work
of Swift and Addison, who stand on the threshold of the modern prose
style. Less than forty years intervene between Dryden and Sir Thomas
Browne; yet Dryden and his school seem to be nearer the twentieth
century than they are to Browne.

Not that Dryden’s style is flawless. It is sometimes involved
and obscure; there are little slips of grammar and many slips of
expression; but on the average it is of high quality, and the
impression that the reader receives is one of great freshness and
abounding vitality. Further examples of this good average style will be
found in the work of Temple and Halifax.

In the case of Bunyan the style becomes plainer still. But it is
powerful and effective, and bears the narrative nobly. Pepys and Evelyn
have no pretensions to style as such, but their work is admirably
expressed, and Evelyn in especial has passages of more elevated diction.

In some authors of the period we find this desire for unornamented
style degenerating into coarseness and ugliness. Such a one is =Jeremy
Collier (1650–1726)=, whose _Short View of the Profaneness and
Immorality of the English Stage_ (1698) caused a great commotion in
its day. It attacked the vices of the stage with such vigor that it is
said to have driven some of the playwrights from their evil courses.
The style of this famous book is so colloquial that it becomes in
places ungrammatical. =Thomas Sprat (1635–1713)= was another disciple
of the same school. He wrote on the newly formed Royal Society, which
demanded from its members, “a close, naked, natural way of speaking.”
This expresses the new development quite well. A greater man than Sprat
but a fellow-member of the Royal Society, was =John Locke (1632–1704)=,
who in his famous _Essay concerning Human Understanding_ (1690) put the
principle into practice. Locke’s style is bare to baldness, but it is
clear. We give an example:

Some men are remarked for pleasantness in raillery; others,
for apologues, and apposite, diverting stories. This is apt to
be taken for the effect of pure nature, and that the rather,
because it is not got by rules, and those who excel in either
of them, never purposely set themselves to the study of it as an
art to be learnt. But yet it is true, that at first some lucky
hit, which took with somebody, and gained him commendation,
encouraged him to try again, inclined his thoughts and
endeavours that way, till at last he insensibly got a facility
in it without perceiving how; and that is attributed wholly to
nature, which was much more the effect of use and practice. I
do not deny that natural disposition may often give the first
rise to it; but that never carries a man far without use and
exercise, and it is practice alone that brings the powers of
the mind as well as those of the body to their perfection. Many
a good poetic vein is buried under a trade, and never produces
anything for want of improvement. We see the ways of discourse
and reasoning are very different, even concerning the same
matter, at court and in the university. And he that will go but
from Westminster Hall to the Exchange, will find a different
genius and turn in their ways of talking; and one cannot think
that all whose lot fell in the city were born with different
parts from those who were bred at the university or inns of
court.

TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

In one prominent case we have a survival of the more elaborate style of
the past, and that is in the history of =Gilbert Burnet (1643–1715)=,
Bishop of Salisbury, whose _History of his own Times_ was published
after his death. The style of the book is modeled on that of Clarendon.
Burnet’s style is not of the same class as that of his predecessor: it
has lapses into colloquialism; its sentences are snipped into small
pieces by means of frequent colons and semicolons; and he has not
Clarendon’s command of vocabulary.

EXERCISES

1. The two following lyrics are respectively of the Restoration and the
Caroline periods. Compare and contrast them in (_a_) subject, (_b_)
style, and (_c_) meter. Summarize the effect of either of them, and say
which you prefer and why you prefer it.

(1) Love in fantastic triumph sate,
Whilst bleeding hearts around him flowed,
For whom fresh pains he did create,
And strange tyrannic power he showed.
From thy bright eyes he took his fires,
Which round about in sport he hurled;
But ’twas from mine he took desires
Enough t’ undo the amorous world.

From me he took his sighs and tears,
From thee his pride and cruelty;
From me his languishment and fears,
And every killing dart from thee:
Thus thou, and I, the god have armed
And set him up a deity;
But my poor heart alone is harmed,
While thine the victor is, and free.
APHRA BEHN (1640–89)

(2) Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon:
As yet the early-rising Sun
Has not attain’d his noon.
Stay, stay,
Until the hasting day
Has run
But to the even-song;
And, having pray’d together, we
Will go with you along.

We have short time to stay, as you,
We have as short a Spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay
As you, or any thing.
We die,
As your hours do, and dry
Away
Like to the Summer’s rain;
Or as the pearls of morning’s dew
Ne’er to be found again.
_To Daffodils_, HERRICK (1591–1674)

2. Write a brief criticism of the following passage of Dryden’s prose.
Comment upon (_a_) the vocabulary, (_b_) the type of sentence, (_c_)
any colloquialisms or slips of grammar, and (_d_) its value as literary
criticism.

He must have been a man of a most wonderful comprehensive
nature, because, as it has been truly observed of him, he has
taken into the compass of his _Canterbury Tales_ the various
manners and humours (as we now call them) of the whole English
nation, in his age. Not a single character has escaped him. All
his pilgrims are severally distinguished from each other; and
not only in their inclinations, but in their very physiognomies
and persons. Baptista Porta could not have described their
natures better, than by the marks which the poet gives them.
The matter and manner of their tales, and of their telling, are
so suited to their different educations, humours, and callings,
that each of them would be improper in any other mouth. Even
the grave and serious characters are distinguished by their
several sorts of gravity: their discourses are such as belong
to their age, their calling, and their breeding; such as are
becoming of them, and of them only. Some of his persons are
vicious, and some virtuous; some are unlearned, or (as Chaucer
calls them) lewd, and some are learned. Even the ribaldry of
the low characters is different; the Reeve, the Miller, and
the Cook, are several men, and distinguished from each other
as much as the mincing Lady Prioress, and the broad-speaking,
gap-toothed Wife of Bath. But enough of this; there is such a
variety of game springing up before me, that I am distracted in
my choice, and know not which to follow. ’Tis sufficient to say,
according to the proverb, that “Here is God’s plenty.” We have
our forefathers and great-granddames all before us, as they were
in Chaucer’s days; their general characters are still remaining
in mankind, and even in England, though they are called by other
names than those of monks and friars, and canons, and lady
abbesses, and nuns; for mankind is ever the same, and nothing
lost out of Nature, though everything is altered.
_Preface to the “Fables”_

3. The extracts given below illustrate the development of the stopped
couplet. Point out briefly the change that comes over the meter, paying
attention to (_a_) the regularity of the accent, (_b_) the pause, and
(_c_) the cæsura.

(1) The sable mantle of the silent night
Shut from the world the ever-joysome light.
Care fled away, and softest slumbers please
To leave the court for lowly cottages.
Wild beasts forsook their dens on woody hills,
And sleightful otters left the purling rills;
Rooks to their nests in high woods now were flung,
And with their spread wings shield their naked young.
When thieves from thickets to the cross-ways stir,
And terror frights the lonely passenger;
When naught was heard but now and then the howl
Of some vile cur, or whooping of the owl.
WILLIAM BROWNE, 1620

(2) Oh, virtue’s pattern, glory of our times,
Sent of past days to expiate the crimes;
Great King, but better far than thou art great,
Whom state not honours but who honours state;
By wonder born, by wonder first installed,
By wonder after to new kingdoms called;
Young, kept by wonder from home-bred alarms,
Old, saved by wonder from pale traitor’s harms,
To be for this thy reign, which wonders brings,
A king of wonder, wonder unto kings.
If Pict, Dane, Norman, thy smooth yoke had seen,
Pict, Dane, and Norman, had thy subjects been;
If Brutus knew the bliss thy rule doth give,
E’en Brutus joy would under thee to live.
For thou thy people dost so dearly love,
That they a father more than prince thee prove.
DRUMMOND, 1630

(3) The seas are quiet when the winds give o’er;
So, calm are we when passions are no more!
For then we know how vain it was to boast
Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes
Conceal that emptiness which age descries.

The soul’s dark cottage, battered and decayed,
Lets in new light through chinks that time has made;
Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become
As they draw near to their eternal home.
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the threshold of the new.
WALLER, 1687

(4) See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend;
See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate kings,
And heaped with products of Sabæan springs!
For thee Idume’s spicy forests blow,
And seeds of golden Ophir’s mountains glow.
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a flood of day.
POPE, 1730

4. In the following extract from Bunyan explain carefully the literal
meaning that lies behind the allegory. Remark upon (_a_) its
clearness, (_b_) its appropriateness and beauty. Add a note on Bunyan’s
style, especially with regard to its connection with the Bible.

But we will come again to this valley of humiliation. It is
the best and most fruitful piece of ground in all these parts.
It is fat ground, and, as you see, consisteth much in meadows;
and if a man was to come here in summer-time, as we do now, if
he knew not anything before thereof, and if he also delighted
himself in the sight of his eyes, he might see that which would
be delightful to him. Behold how green this valley is! also how
beautiful with lilies! I have known many labouring men that
have got good estates in this valley of humiliation. “For God
resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble”; for indeed
it is a very fruitful soil, and doth bring forth handfuls. Some
also have wished that the next way to their father’s house were
here, that they might be troubled no more with either hills or
mountains to go over; but the way is the way, and there’s an end.

5. The following extracts illustrate respectively Restoration comedy
and tragedy:

(1) (_This is part of a scene between Aimwell, a gentleman who
is staying at an inn, and Gibbet, a highwayman, who is trying to
insinuate himself into his company by calling himself a military
officer._)

_Enter_ GIBBET

_Gibbet._ Sir, I’m yours.

_Aimwell._ ’Tis more than I deserve, sir, for I don’t know
you.

_Gibbet._ I don’t wonder at that, sir, for you never saw me
before--[_aside_]--I hope.

_Aimwell._ And pray, sir, how came I by the honour of
seeing you now?

_Gibbet._ Sir, I scorn to intrude upon any gentleman, but
my landlord--

_Aimwell._ O sir, I ask your pardon, you’re the captain he
told me of?

_Gibbet._ At your service, sir.

_Aimwell._ What regiment, may I be so bold?

_Gibbet._ A marching regiment, an old corps.

_Aimwell_ [_aside_]. Very old, if your coat be
regimental. [_Aloud_] You have served abroad, sir?

_Gibbet._ Yes, sir, in the plantations,’twas my lot to be
sent into the worst service; I would have quitted it indeed, but
a man of honour, you know--Besides, ’twas for the good of my
country that I should be abroad: anything for the good of one’s
country--I’m a Roman for that.

_Aimwell._ You found the West Indies very hot, sir?

_Gibbet._ Ay, sir, too hot for me.

_Aimwell._ Pray, sir, han’t I seen your face at Will’s
coffee-house?

_Gibbet._ Yes, sir, and at White’s too.

_Aimwell._ And where is your company now, captain?

_Gibbet._ They an’t come yet.

_Aimwell._ Why, d’ye expect them here?

_Gibbet._ They’ll be here to-night, sir.

_Aimwell._ Which way do they march?

_Gibbet._ Across country.
FARQUHAR, _The Beaux’ Stratagem_

Remark upon the style of the dialogue, and how it suits the situation.

(2) (_This extract occurs near the end of “Venice Preserved,”
Otway’s famous tragedy. Pierre, a conspirator against the
Venetian Senate, is about to be tortured publicly on the wheel.
His friend Jaffier, who has wronged Pierre, has come to witness
the execution._)

_Officer._ The day grows late, sir.

_Pierre._ I’ll make haste. O Jaffier!
Though thou’st betrayed me, do me some way justice.

_Jaffier._ No more of that: thy wishes shall be satisfied....

[_Going away, Pierre holds him._

_Pierre._ No--this--no more! [_He whispers Jaffier._

_Jaffier._ Ha! is’t then so?

_Pierre._ Most certainly.

_Jaffier._ I’ll do’t.

_Pierre._ Remember.

_Officer._ Sir.

_Pierre._ Come, now I’m ready.

[_He and Jaffier ascend the scaffold._

Captain, you should be a gentleman of honour.
Keep off the rabble, that I may have room
To entertain my fate and die with decency.
Come!

[_Takes off his gown. Executioner prepares to bind him._

_Priest._ Son!

_Pierre._ Hence, tempter!

_Officer._ Stand off, priest.

_Pierre._ I thank you, sir.
You’ll think on’t. [_To Jaffier._

_Jaffier._ ’Twon’t grow stale before to-morrow.

_Pierre._ Now, Jaffier! Now I am going. Now--

[_Executioner having bound him._

_Jaffier._ Have at thee, thou honest heart!
Then, here! [_Stabs him._
And this is well too! [_Stabs himself._

_Priest._ Damnable deed!

_Pierre._ Now thou hast indeed been faithful.
This was done nobly--we’ve deceived the Senate.

_Jaffier._ Bravely.

_Pierre._ Ha! Ha! Ha!--Oh! Oh!-- [_Dies._

_Jaffier._ Now, you curs’d rulers,
Thus of the blood ye’ve shed I make libation,
And sprinkle it mingling; may it rest upon you,
And all your race: be henceforth peace a stranger
Within your walls; let plagues and famine waste
Your generations--O poor Belvidera!...
I’m sick--I’m quiet-- [_Dies._

Remark upon the power of this scene, the skill shown in the variation
of the speeches, the use of colloquialisms, and the climax. Does it
strike you as being overdone? Add a note on the meter.

6. The following is Dryden’s character-sketch of the Duke of
Buckingham, who receives the name of Zimri. (Dryden, in his _Essay
on Satire_, says: “How easy it is to call rogue and villain, and
that wittily! but how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead,
or a knave without using any of these opprobrious names! There is
a vast difference between the slovenly butchering of a man and the
fineness of stroke that separates the head from the body, and leaves
it standing in its place.... The character of Zimri, in my _Absalom
and Achitophel_, is, in my opinion, worth the whole poem. It is not
bloody, but it is ridiculous enough.”)

Some of their chiefs were princes of the land;
In the first rank of these did Zimri stand,
A man so various that he seemed to be
Not one, but all mankind’s epitome:
Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong,
Was everything by starts, and nothing long;
But in the course of one revolving moon
Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon;
Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking,
Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Blest madman who could every hour employ
With something new to wish or to enjoy!
Railing and praising were his usual themes,
And both, to show his judgment, in extremes:
So over violent or over civil
That every man with him was God or Devil.
In squandering wealth was his peculiar art;
Nothing went unrewarded but desert.
Beggared by fools whom still he found too late,
He had his jest, and they had his estate.
He laughed himself from Court; then sought relief
By forming parties, but could ne’er be chief:
For spite of him, the weight of business fell
On Absalom and wise Achitophel;
Thus wicked but in will, of means bereft,
He left not faction, but of that was left.

From this passage quote the lines which hint that Buckingham is
respectively “a fool, a blockhead, or a knave” without actually calling
him so. Quote other lines that seem to be particularly effective.
Remark upon the style of the couplet: the meter, the position of the
pause, and the kind of rhyme. Finally, write a paragraph summarizing
the effect the passage produces on the reader.

7. The passage given below is an extract from Dryden’s earliest printed
poem (1658). Compare it with the passage given in the last exercise.

Each little pimple had a tear in it,
To wail the fault its rising did commit,
Who, rebel-like, with their own lord at strife,
Thus made an insurrection ’gainst his life.
Or were these gems sent to adorn his skin,
The cabinet of a richer soul within?
No comet need foretell his change drew on,
Whose corpse might seem a constellation.
_Upon the Death of the Lord Hastings_

8. Waller was smooth; but Dryden taught to join
The varying verse, the full resounding line,
The long majestic march, the energy divine.
POPE

From the passages already quoted give extracts to show the truth of the
above statement.

9. Use the following quotation to sketch the development of English
prose from the death of Shakespeare to the death of Dryden:

When we find Chapman, the Elizabethan translator of Homer,
expressing himself in his preface thus: “Though truth in her
very nakedness sits in so deep a pit, that from Gades to Aurora
and Ganges few eyes can sound her, I hope yet those few here
will so discover and confirm, that, the date being out of her
darkness in this morning of our poet, he shall now gird his
temples with the sun,”--we pronounce that such a prose is
intolerable. When we find Milton writing: “And long it was not
after, when I was confirmed in this opinion, that he, who would
not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable
things, ought himself to be a true poem,”--we pronounce that
such a prose has its own grandeur, but that it is obsolete and
inconvenient. But when we find Dryden telling us: “What Virgil
wrote in the vigour of his age, in plenty and at ease, I have
undertaken to translate in my declining years; struggling with
wants, oppressed with sickness, curbed in my genius, liable to
be misconstrued in all I write,” then we exclaim that here at
last we have the true English prose, prose such as we would
all gladly use if we only knew how. Yet Dryden was Milton’s
contemporary.
MATTHEW ARNOLD

10. “A good deal of the unconquerable individuality of the earlier part
of the century survives in it, and prevents monotony. After Addison
everybody tries to write like Addison; after Johnson almost everybody
tries to write like Johnson. But after Dryden everybody dare not yet
try to write like Dryden.” (Saintsbury.) Show how far this statement
applies to the prose style of the age.

11. “The characteristic feature of _The Pilgrim’s Progress_ is that it
is the only work of its kind which possesses a strong human interest.”
(Macaulay.) Show how Bunyan, in plot, characters, and style, arouses
this “strong human interest” in his allegory. From this point of view
compare him with Spenser, who, Macaulay says, does not arouse this
interest.

12. The period of Dryden is often called “the Age of Satire.” Account
for the prominence of satire in this period, and point out some of the
effects it had on current and the succeeding writing.

13. What are the main features of Restoration drama?

14. “No man exercised so much influence on the age. The reason is
obvious. On no man did the age exercise so much influence.” (Macaulay.)
How far is this statement true of Dryden?

CHAPTER VIII

THE AGE OF POPE

TIME-CHART OF THE CHIEF AUTHORS

_The thick line shows the period of active literary work_

1700 1710 1720 1730 1740 1750
| ║ [142]║ | | | ║ |
Pope |......║=======║================================║ |
(1688–1744) | | ║ | | | |
| ║ | | ║ | | |
Prior |......║=================║ | | |
(1664–1721) | | | | | |
| | ║ | | | ║[143]║ |
Young |..........|...║==============================║=====║..|
(1683–1765) | | | | | |
| ║ | | ║[144]| ║ | ║ |
Swift |...║======================║============║...|.....║ |
(1667–1745) | | | ║ | | |
| ║ |║[145] ║ | | | |
Addison |...║=======║======║ | | | |
(1672–1719) | |║ | | | |
| ║ |║[145] | ║ | | |
Steele |.....║=====║=================║ | | |
(1672–1729) | |║ | | | |
|║ | ║[146] | ║ | |
Defoe |║=================║===============║ | |
(1659–1731) | | ║ | | | |
| | | | | |

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND (1700–50)

In the beginning of the eighteenth century the old quarrels take on new
features.

=1. The Rise of the Political Parties.= In the reign of Charles II
the terms “Whig” and “Tory” first became current; by the year 1700 they
were in everybody’s mouth. About that time domestic politicians became
sharply cleft into two groups that were destined to become established
as the basis of the British system. Domestic affairs, while they never
approached the stage of bloodshed, took on a new acrimony that was
to affect literature deeply. Actual points of political faith upon
which the parties were divided are not of great importance to us here;
but, generally speaking, we may say that the Whig party stood for the
pre-eminence of personal freedom as opposed to the Tory view of royal
divine right. Hence the Whigs supported the Hanoverian succession,
whereas the Tories were Jacobites. The Tories, whose numbers were
recruited chiefly from the landed classes, objected to the foreign war
upon the score that they had to pay taxes to prolong it; and the Whigs,
representing the trading classes generally, were alleged to be anxious
to continue the war, as it brought them increased prosperity. In the
matter of religion the Whigs were Low Churchmen and the Tories High
Churchmen.

=2. The Foreign War.= This War of the Spanish Succession was
brilliantly successful under the leadership of Marlborough, who,
besides being a great general, was a prominent Tory politician. The
Tories, as the war seemed to be indefinitely prolonged, supplanted
(1710) the Whigs, with whom they had been co-operating in the
earlier stages of the war, and in 1713 they concluded the war by
the unfortunate Treaty of Utrecht. Contemporary literature is much
concerned both with the war and the peace.

=3. The Succession.= When Anne ascended the throne the succession
seemed to be safe enough, for she had a numerous family. Nevertheless,
her children all died before her, and in 1701 it became necessary to
pass the Act of Settlement, a Whig measure by which the crown was
conferred upon the House of Hanover. On the death of Anne, in the
year 1714, the succession took effect, in spite of the efforts of the
Tories, who were anxious to restore the Stuarts. The events of this
year 1714 deeply influenced the lives of Addison, Steele, Swift, and
many other writers of lesser degree.

THE AGE OF PROSE

The age of Pope intensified the movement that, as we have seen, began
after the Restoration. The drift away from poetical passion was more
pronounced than ever, the ideals of “wit” and “common sense” were
more zealously pursued, and the lyrical note was almost unheard. In
its place we find in poetry the overmastering desire for neatness
and perspicuity, for edge and point in style, and for correctness in
the technique of the popular forms of poetry. These aims received
expression in the almost crazy devotion to the heroic couplet, the
aptest medium for the purpose. In this type of poetry the supreme
master is Pope; yet even the most ardent admirer of Pope must admit his
defects as a poet of the passions. Indeed, one of his most competent
biographers[147] asserts that “most of his work may be fairly described
as rhymed prose, differing from prose not in substance or in tone of
feeling, but only in the form of expression.”

Thus the poet who is admitted to be far and away the most important
of the age is considered to be largely prosaic. On the other hand,
the only other great names of the period--Swift, Addison, Steele,
Defoe--are those of prose-writers primarily, and prose-writers of a
very high quality.

The main reason for this temporary predominance of prose is hard to
discover. One can put it down only to the mysterious ebb and flow, the
alternate coming and going, of the spirit of poetry. This alternation
is noticeable through all the stages of our literary history, and
nowhere is it more distinct than in the century we are discussing. The
spirit of poetry was soaring to its culmination in the Elizabethan age;
during the era of Dryden it was fluttering to earth; in Pope’s lifetime
it was crouching “like veiled lightnings asleep”; but it was soon to
arise with new and divine strength.

Some other outstanding conditions of the age remain to be considered.
Most of them, it will be noticed, help to give prose its dominating
position.

=1. Political Writing.= We have already noticed the rise of the two
political parties, accompanied by an increased acerbity of political
passion. This development gave a fresh importance to men of literary
ability, for both parties competed for the assistance of their pens,
bribed the authors with places and pensions (or promises of them), and
admitted them more or less deeply into their counsels. In previous ages
authors had had to depend on their patrons, often capricious beings,
or upon the length of their subscription lists; they now acquired an
independence and an importance that turned the heads of some of them.
Hardly a writer of the time is free from the political bias. Swift
became a virulent Tory, Addison a tepid Whig; Steele was Whig and Tory
in turn. It was indeed the Golden Age of political pamphleteering, and
the writers made the most of it.

=2. The Clubs and Coffee-houses.= Politicians are necessarily
gregarious, and the increased activity in politics led to a great
addition to the number of political clubs and coffee-houses, which
became the _foci_ of fashionable and public life. In the first
number of _The Tatler_ Steele announces as a matter of course that
the activities of his new journal will be based upon the clubs. “All
accounts of Gallantry, Pleasure and Entertainment shall be under
the article of White’s Chocolate-House; Poetry under that of Will’s
Coffee-House; Learning under the title of Grecian; Foreign and Domestic
News you will have from Saint James’ Coffee-House.” These coffee-houses
became the “clearing-houses” for literary business, and from them
branched purely literary associations such as the famous Scriblerus and
Kit-Cat Clubs, those haunts of the fashionable writers which figure so
prominently in the writings of the period.

=3. Periodical Writing.= The development of the periodical will be
noticed elsewhere (see pp. 267–8). It is sufficient here to point
out that the struggle for political mastery led both factions to
issue a swarm of _Examiners_, _Guardians_, _Freeholders_, and similar
publications. These journals were run by a band of vigorous and facile
prose-writers, who in their differing degrees of excellence represent
almost a new type in our literature.

=4. The New Publishing Houses.= The interest in politics, and
probably the decline in the drama, caused a great increase in the size
of the reading public. In its turn this aroused the activities of a
number of men who became the forerunners of the modern publishing
houses. Such were Edmund Curll (1675–1747), Jacob Tonson (1656–1736),
and John Dunton (1659–1733). These men employed numbers of needy
writers, who produced the translations, adaptations, and other popular
works of the time. It is unwise to judge a publisher by what authors
say of him, but the universal condemnation leveled against Curll and
his kind compels the belief that they were a breed of scoundrels who
preyed upon authors and public, and (what is more remarkable) upon one
another. The miserable race of hack-writers--venomously attacked by
Pope in _The Dunciad_--who existed on the scanty bounty of such
men lived largely in a thoroughfare near Moorfields called Grub Street,
the name of which has become synonymous with literary drudgery.

=5. The New Morality.= The immorality of the Restoration, which
had been almost entirely a Court phenomenon and was largely the
reaction against extreme Puritanism, soon spent itself. The natural
process of time was hastened by opinion in high quarters. William
III was a severe moralist, and Anne, his successor, was of the same
character. Thus we soon see a new tone in the writing of the time,
and a new attitude to life and morals. Addison, in an early number of
_The Spectator_, puts the new fashion in his own admirable way:
“I shall endeavour to enliven morality with wit, and to temper wit
with morality.” Another development of the same spirit is seen in the
revised opinion of women, who are treated with new respect and dignity.
Much coarseness is still to be felt, especially in satirical writing,
in which Swift, for instance, can be quite vile; but the general upward
tendency is undoubtedly there.

JONATHAN SWIFT (1667–1745)

=1. His Life.= Swift was born in Dublin, and, though both his parents
were English, his connection with Ireland was to be maintained more or
less closely till the day he died. His father dying before Jonathan’s
birth, the boy was thrown upon the charity of an uncle, who paid for
his education in Ireland. He seems to have been very wretched both
at his school at Kilkenny and at Trinity College, Dublin, where his
experiences went to confirm in him that savage melancholia that was to
endure all his life. Much of this distemper was due to purely physical
causes, for he suffered from an affection of the ear that ultimately
touched his brain and caused insanity. In 1686, at the age of nineteen,
he left Trinity College (it is said in disgrace), and in 1689 entered
the household of his famous kinsman Sir William Temple, under whose
encouragement he took holy orders, and on the death of Temple in 1699
obtained other secretarial and ecclesiastical appointments. His real
chance came in 1710, when the Tories overthrew the Marlborough faction
and came into office. To them Swift devoted the gigantic powers of his
pen, became a political star of some magnitude, and, after the manner
of the time, hoped for substantial rewards. He might have become a
bishop, but it is said that Queen Anne objected to the vigor of his
early writings; and in the wreck of the Tory party in 1715 all he
could save was the Deanery of St. Patrick’s, in Dublin. An embittered
man, he spent the last thirty years of his life in gloom, and largely
in retirement. He was involved in obscure but not dishonorable
philanderings with Esther Johnson (Stella) and Esther Vanhomrigh
(Vanessa), whose names figure prominently in his personal writings.
His last years were passed in silence and lunacy, and he expired (in
Johnson’s words) “a driveller and a show.”

=2. His Poetry.= Swift would have been among the first to smile at
any claim being advanced for him on the score of his being a great
poet, yet in bulk his verse is considerable, and in quality it is
striking. His poems were to a large extent recreations: odd verses
(sometimes humorously doggerel) to his friends; squibs and lampoons
on his political and private enemies, including the famous one on
Partridge, the quack astrologer; and one longish one, _Cadenus and
Vanessa_ (1730), which deals with his fancy for Esther Vanhomrigh.
In his poems he is as a rule lighter of touch and more placable in
humor than he is in his prose. His favorite meter is the octosyllabic
couplet, which he handles with a dexterity that reminds the reader of
Butler in _Hudibras_. He has lapses of taste, when be becomes coarse
and vindictive; and sometimes the verse, through mere indifference, is
badly strung and colloquially expressed.

The following is from some bitter verses he wrote (1735) on his own
death just before the final night of madness descended. Note the fierce
misery inadequately screened with savage scorn.

Yet thus, methinks, I hear them speak:
“See, how the Dean begins to break!
Poor gentleman, he droops apace!
You’ll plainly find it in his face.
That old vertigo in his head
Will never leave him, till he’s dead.
Besides, his memory decays:
He recollects not what he says;
He cannot call his friends to mind;
Forgets the place where last he dined;
Plies you with stories o’er and o’er;
He told them fifty times before.
How does he fancy we can sit
To hear his out-of-fashion wit?
But he takes up with younger folks,
Who for his wine will bear his jokes.
Faith, he must make his stories shorter,
Or change his comrades once a quarter:
In half the time he talks them round,
There must another set be found.”

=3. His Prose.= Almost in one bound Swift attained to a mastery of
English prose, and then maintained an astonishing level of excellence.
His first noteworthy book was _The Battle of the Books_, published
in 1704. The theme of this work is a well-worn one, being the dispute
between ancient and modern authors. At the time Swift wrote it his
patron, Sir William Temple, was engaged in the controversy, and Swift’s
tract was in support of his kinsman’s views. Swift gives the theme a
half allegorical, mock-heroic setting, in which the books in a library
at length literally contend with one another. The handling is vigorous
and illuminating, and refreshed with many happy remarks and allusions.
The famous passage where a bee, accidentally blundering into a spider’s
web, argues down the bitter remarks of the spider, is one of Swift’s
happiest efforts.

_The Tale of a Tub_, also published in 1704, though it was written as
early as 1696, is regarded by many as Swift’s best work. It certainly
reveals his power at its highest. It is a religious allegory, perhaps
suggested by the work of Bunyan, on three men: Peter, who stands for
the Roman Catholic Church; Jack, who represents the extreme Protestant
sects; and Martin, the personification of the Anglican and Lutheran
Churches. Each of the three has a coat left to him by his father, and
they have many experiences, beginning with the changes that they make
on the coats that have been left to them. As a narrative the book
soon loses clearness and coherence; but later a ferocious assault is
developed by Swift upon Peter and Jack. Martin escapes more lightly
than the others, and this is unusually discriminating on the part of
the author. The chief interest in the book lies in Swift’s uncanny
penetration of intellect, which thrusts itself into all manner of human
activities, and also in the weight and blighting scorn of his comment
upon those activities. The satire is irresistible. Nothing escapes
it; nothing can resist it. When he has finished we feel he has made a
wilderness of everything we call sacred and beautiful.

The great strength of Swift’s satiric method lies in its cosmic
elemental force. Unlike that of Pope, it is never paltry or mean. It
has a terrifying intensity, caused by an aloofness that is inflexible,
dominating, and unchallengeable. Yet _The Tale of a Tub_, while it
fully reveals the power that stamps him as a writer of the first rank,
throws into prominence the faults that seriously mar his achievement.
His satire is too indiscriminate, lashing out at whatever comes in
the way, whether it be good or bad. Secondly, it is often violent and
revoltingly cruel. Thirdly, it can be coarse and indecent. These flaws,
partly the common vices of the time, are likewise the fruit of his
mental malady, and they deepen as he grows older.

The following extract shows the suggestiveness of his allegory, the
corrosive power of his satire, and his redoubtable style:

Whenever it happened that any rogue of Newgate was condemned to
be hanged, Peter would offer him a pardon for a certain sum of
money; which when the poor caitiff had made all shifts to scrape
up, and send, his lordship would return a piece of paper in this
form:

“To all mayors, sheriffs, jailors, constables, bailiffs,
hangmen, etc. Whereas we are informed that A. B. remains in the
hands of some of you, under the sentence of death: We will and
command you, upon sight hereof to let the said prisoner depart
to his own habitation whether he stands condemned for murder,
etc., etc., for which this shall be your sufficient warrant; and
if you fail hereof, God damn you and yours to all eternity; and
so we bid you heartily farewell. Your most humble man’s man,
Emperor Peter.”

The wretches, trusting to this, lost their lives and money too.
Peter, however, became outrageously proud. He has been seen
to take three old high-crowned hats and clap them on his head
three-storey high, with a huge bunch of keys at his girdle, and
an angling-rod in his hand. In which guise, whoever went to
take him by the hand in the way of salutation, Peter, with much
grace, like a well-educated spaniel, would present them with
his foot; and if they refused his civility, then he would raise
it as high as their chops, and give them a damned kick in the
mouth, which has ever since been called a salute.
_The Tale of a Tub_

The next period of his life (1704–14) was occupied mainly in the
composition of political tracts, some of which are of great power.
Several of them were written for _The Examiner_, a Tory journal. They
include _Remarks on the Barrier Treaty_ (1712) and _The Public Spirit
of the Whigs_ (1714). To this period also belongs the _Journal to
Stella_, which is a kind of informal private log-book written by him
and sent regularly to Esther Johnson. It has all Swift’s shrewdness and
vivacity, without much of the usual scorn and coarseness. It is not
as intimate and revealing as the diary of Pepys, yet it gives us many
glimpses of the inner man: vain and arrogant, ambitious and crafty, but
none the less a generous and considerate friend and a loyal ally.

During the third period--that of his final stay in Ireland--the shadow
deepens. The earlier years produce one of the most compelling efforts
of his pen. He supported the Irish in their revolt against “Wood’s
halfpence,” writing in their cause his _Drapier’s Letters_ (1724).
This gained for him an almost embarrassing popularity. Then followed
some miscellaneous political work, and then his longest and most famous
book, _Gulliver’s Travels_ (1726). The main idea of this book is
an old one, being at least as old as the time of Lucian, a Greek writer
of the second century: it deals with imaginary voyages, in Gulliver’s
case among the pigmies (Lilliputians), the giants (Brobdingnagians),
the moonstruck philosophers (Laputans), and the race of horses, with
their human serfs the Yahoos.

_Gulliver’s Travels_ resembles its fellow-allegory _The Pilgrim’s
Progress_ in its popularity and human interest; but in temper the two
books are worlds apart. Bunyan views human failings with a discerning
eye, but he accepts them with a benign quiescence, and with a tempered
faith in man’s ultimate redemption. Swift, on the other hand, said to
Pope, “I heartily hate and detest that animal called man,” and this
book is an elaboration of that attitude. He magnifies man into a giant,
and then he diminishes him into a mannikin, and he finds him wicked
and insolent and mean; he regards man in his wisdom, and he finds him
a fool; in despair, in the last book of the _Travels_, he turns from
man altogether, and in the brute creation he discovers a charity and
sagacity before which humanity grovels as a creature beastly beyond
measure. The last stages of the book are morbid and revolting to the
point of insanity.

The two earlier stages of the _Travels_ have a charm and vivacity
that delight old and young. The bitterness of the satire lurks in the
allegory, but it is so delicately tinseled over that it does not repel.
The crowded incidents are plausible and lively, and they are often
spiced with a quaint and alluring humor; his comments upon mankind are
shrewd and arresting, as well as satirical, and are yet not brutal nor
obscene. The style is Swift’s best: not mannered or labored; clean,
powerful, and tireless; easy without being slovenly, and as clear as
summer noonday.

The queen, who often used to hear me talk of my sea-voyages,
and took all occasions to divert me when I was melancholy,
asked me whether I understood how to handle a sail or an oar,
and whether a little exercise of rowing might not be convenient
for my health. I answered, that I understood both very well;
for although my proper employment had been to be surgeon or
doctor to the ship, yet often upon a pinch I was forced to work
like a common mariner. But I could not see how this could be
done in their country, where the smallest wherry was equal to
a first-rate man-of-war among us, and such a boat as I could
manage would never live in any of their rivers. Her majesty
said, if I would contrive a boat, her own joiner should make
it, and she would provide a place for me to sail in. The
fellow was an ingenious workman, and, by my instructions, in
ten days finished a pleasure-boat, with all its tackling, able
conveniently to hold eight Europeans. When it was finished,
the queen was so delighted that she ran with it in her lap to
the king, who ordered it to be put in a cistern full of water
with me in it by way of trial; where I could not manage my two
sculls, or little oars, for want of room. But the queen had
before contrived another project. She ordered the joiner to
make a wooden trough of three hundred feet long, fifty broad,
and eight deep, which being well pitched, to prevent leaking,
was placed on the floor along the wall in an outer room of the
palace. It had a cock near the bottom to let out the water, when
it began to grow stale; and two servants could easily fill it in
half an hour. Here I often used to row for my own diversion, as
well as that of the queen and her ladies, who thought themselves
well entertained with my skill and agility. Sometimes I would
put up my sail, and then my business was only to steer, while
the ladies gave me a gale with their fans; and when they were
weary, some of the pages would blow my sail forward with their
breath, while I showed my art by steering starboard or larboard,
as I pleased. When I had done, Glumdalclitch always carried back
my boat into her closet, and hung it on a nail to dry.

JOSEPH ADDISON (1672–1718)

=1. His Life.= Educated at the Charterhouse, Addison went to Oxford,
where he became a Fellow of Magdalen College. He early made his mark
as a serious and accomplished scholar, and seems to have attracted
the notice of the Whig leaders, who marked him out as a future
literary prop of their faction. He obtained a traveling scholarship of
three hundred pounds a year, and saw much of Europe under favorable
conditions. Then the misfortunes of the Whigs in 1703 reduced him to
poverty. In 1704, it is said at the instigation of the leaders of the
Whigs, he wrote the poem _The Campaign_, praising the war policy of
the Whigs in general and the worthiness of Marlborough in particular.
This poem brought him fame and fortune. He obtained many official
appointments and pensions, married a dowager countess (1716), and
became a Secretary of State (1717). Two years later he died, at the age
of forty-seven.

=2. His Poetry.= In his Latin verses Addison attained early
distinction. These verses were highly praised at a time when praise
for proficiency in such a medium was of some significance. Then his
_Campaign_ in 1704 gave him a reputation as one of the major poets of
the age. The poem is poor enough. It is written in the heroic couplet,
and with some truth it has been called a “rhymed gazette.” The story
is little more than a pompous catalogue of places and persons; the
style is but mediocre, and warms only when it is feebly stirred by the
ignorant enthusiasm that a sedentary civilian feels for the glory of
war. The hero is Marlborough, who is drawn on a scale of epic grandeur.
The most famous passage of the work is that comparing the general to
the angel that rides the storm. The poem literally made Addison’s
fortune; for after reading it the Whig Lord Treasurer Godolphin gave
him the valuable appointment of Commissioner of Appeals.

’Twas then great Marlbro’s mighty soul was prov’d,
That, in the shock of charging hosts unmov’d,
Amidst confusion, horror, and despair,
Examin’d all the dreadful scenes of war;
In peaceful thought the field of death survey’d,
To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid,
Inspir’d repuls’d battalions to engage,
And taught the doubtful battle where to rage.
So when an angel by divine command
With rising tempests shakes a guilty land,
Such as of late o’er pale Britannia past,
Calm and serene he drives the furious blast;
And pleas’d th’ Almighty’s orders to perform,
Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.

His only other poetical works worthy of notice are his hymns, which are
melodious, scholarly, and full of a cheerful piety. The one that begins
“The spacious firmament on high” is among the best.

=3. His Drama.= Addison was lucky in his greatest dramatic effort, just
as he was lucky in his longest poem. In 1713 he produced the tragedy of
_Cato_, part of which had been in manuscript as early as 1703. It is of
little merit, and shows that Addison, whatever his other qualities may
be, is no dramatist. It is written in laborious blank verse, in which
wooden characters declaim long, dull speeches. But it caught the ear
of the political parties, both of which in the course of the play saw
pithy references to the inflamed passions of the time. The play had
the remarkable run of thirty-five nights, and was revived with much
success. Addison also attempted an opera, _Rosamond_ (1706), which was
a failure; and the prose comedy of _The Drummer_ (about 1715) is said,
with some reason, to be his also. If it is, it adds nothing to his
reputation.

=4. His Prose.= Several political pamphlets are ascribed to Addison,
but as a pamphleteer he is not impressive. He lacked the brutal
directness of Swift, whose pen was a terror to his opponents. It is in
fact almost entirely as an essayist that Addison is justly famed.

These essays began almost casually. On April 12, 1709, Steele published
the first number of _The Tatler_, a periodical that was to appear
thrice weekly. Addison, who was a school and college friend of Steele,
saw and liked the new publication, and offered his services as a
contributor. His offer was accepted, and his first contribution, a
semi-political one, appeared in No. 18. Henceforward Addison wrote
regularly for the paper, contributing 42 numbers, which may be compared
with Steele’s share of 188. _The Tatler_ finished in January, 1711;
then in March of the same year Steele began _The Spectator_, which was
issued daily. The paper had some variations of fortune, price, and
time of issue, but eventually it ran until December, 1712; obtained
an unprecedented popularity (it was said that in its palmiest days
it sold ten thousand copies of each issue), and exercised a great
influence upon the reading public of the period. In _The Spectator_
Addison rapidly became the dominating spirit, wrote 274 essays out
of a complete total of 555, and wholly shaped its policy when Steele
tired of the project. Steele wrote 236 essays. In March, 1713, Addison
assisted Steele with _The Guardian_, which Steele began. It was
only a moderate success, and terminated after 175 numbers, Addison
contributing 53.

In all, we thus have from Addison’s pen nearly four hundred essays,
which are of nearly uniform length, of almost unvarying excellence of
style, and of a wide diversity of subject. He set out to be a mild
censor of the morals of the time, and most of his compositions deal
with topical subjects--fashions, headdresses, practical jokes, polite
conversation. Deeper themes were handled in a popular and sketchy
fashion--immorality, jealousy, prayer, death, and drunkenness. Politics
were touched, but gingerly. Sometimes he adopted the allegory as a
means of throwing his ideas vividly before his readers; and so we
have the popular _Vision of Mirza_ and the political allegory of
_Public Credit_. Literary criticism, of a mild and cautious kind,
found a prominent place in the essays, as well as many half-personal,
half-jocular editorial communications to the readers. And, lastly,
there was the famous series dealing with the Spectator Club.

It is certain that Steele first hit on the idea of Sir Roger de
Coverley, an imaginary eccentric old country knight who frequented
the Spectator Club in London. Around the knight were grouped a number
of contrasted characters, also members of the mythical club. Such
were Will Honeycomb, a middle-aged beau; Sir Andrew Freeport, a city
merchant; Captain Sentry, a soldier; and Mr. Spectator, a shy, reticent
person, who bears a resemblance to Addison himself. Addison seized
upon the idea of the club; gave it life, interest, and adventure;
cast over it the charm of his pleasantly sub-acid humor; and finished
up by making the knight die with affecting deliberation and decorum.
Sandwiched between essays on other topics, this series appeared at
intervals in the pages of _The Spectator_, and added immensely to
the popularity of the journal. In literature it has an added value.
If Addison had pinned the Coverley papers together with a stronger
plot; if, instead of only referring to the widow who had stolen the
knight’s affections, he had introduced a definite love-theme; if he had
introduced some important female characters, we should have had the
first regular novel in our tongue. As it is, this essay-series brings
us within measurable distance of the genuine eighteenth-century novel.

We give an extract to illustrate both his humor and his style. His
humor is of a rare order. It is delicate, almost furtive; sometimes it
nearly descends to a snigger, but it seldom reveals anything that is
not gentlemanly, tolerant, and urbane. To Swift, with his virile mind,
such a temper seemed effeminate and priggish. “I will not meddle with
_The Spectator_,” he wrote to Stella; “let him _fair sex_ it to the
world’s end.”

His style has often been deservedly praised. It is the pattern of the
middle style, never slipshod, or obscure, or unmelodious. He has an
infallible instinct for the proper word, and an infallible ear for
a subdued and graceful rhythm. In this fashion his prose moves with
a demure and pleasing grace, in harmony with his subject, with his
object, and with himself.

As I was yesterday morning walking with Sir Roger before his
house, a country fellow brought him a huge fish, which, he told
him, Mr William Wimble had caught that very morning; and that he
presented it with his service to him, and intended to come and
dine with him. At the same time he delivered a letter, which my
friend read to me as soon as the messenger left him.

“SIR ROGER,
“I desire you to accept of a jack, which is the best I have
caught this season. I intend to come and stay with you a week,
and see how the perch bite in the Black river. I observed with
some concern, the last time I saw you upon the bowling-green,
that your whip wanted a lash to it; I will bring half a dozen
with me that I twisted last week, which I hope will serve you
all the time you are in the country. I have not been out of the
saddle for six days last past, having been at Eton with Sir
John’s eldest son. He takes to his learning hugely.
“I am, Sir, your humble servant,
“WILL WIMBLE”

This extraordinary letter, and message that accompanied it,
made me very curious to know the character and quality of the
gentleman who sent them; which I found to be as follow:--Will
Wimble is younger brother to a baronet, and descended of the
ancient family of the Wimbles. He is now between forty and
fifty; but being bred to no business and born to no estate,
he generally lives with his eldest brother as superintendent
of his game. He hunts a pack of dogs better than any man in
the country, and is very famous for finding out a hare. He is
extremely well versed in all the little handicrafts of an idle
man. He makes a May-fly to a miracle; and furnishes the whole
country with angle-rods. As he is a good-natured, officious
fellow, and very much esteemed on account of his family, he is a
welcome guest at every house, and keeps up a good correspondence
among all the gentlemen about him. He carries a tulip root in
his pocket from one to another, or exchanges a puppy between a
couple of friends, that live perhaps in the opposite sides of
the country. He now and then presents a pair of garters of his
own knitting to their mothers or sisters; and raises a great
deal of mirth among them, by inquiring as often as he meets
them, how they wear? These gentleman-like manufactures and
obliging little humours make Will the darling of the country.
_The Spectator_

SIR RICHARD STEELE (1672–1729)

=1. His Life.= Steele had a varied and rather an unfortunate
career, due largely to his own ardent disposition. Like Addison, he was
educated at the Charterhouse, and then proceeded to Oxford, leaving
without taking a degree. His next exploit was to enter the army as
a cadet; then he took to politics, became a member of Parliament,
and wrote for the Whigs. Steele, however, was too impetuous to be a
successful politician, and he was expelled from the House of Commons.
He became a Tory; quarreled with Addison on private and public
grounds; issued a number of periodicals; and died ten years after his
fellow-essayist.

=2. His Drama.= Steele wrote some prose comedies, the best of which are
_The Funeral_ (1701), _The Lying Lover_ (1703), _The Tender Husband_
(1705), and _The Conscious Lovers_ (1722). They follow in general
scheme the Restoration comedies, but are without the grossness and
impudence of their models. They have, indeed, been criticized as being
too moral; yet in places they are lively, and reflect much of Steele’s
amiability of temper.

=3. His Essays.= It is as a miscellaneous essayist that Steele finds
his place in literature. He was a man fertile in ideas, but he lacked
the application that is always so necessary to carry those ideas to
fruition. Thus he often sowed in order that other men might reap. He
started _The Tatler_ in 1709, _The Spectator_ in 1711, and several
other short-lived periodicals, such as _The Guardian_ (1713), _The
Reader_ (1714), _The Englishman_ (1715), and _The Plebeian_ (1718).
After the rupture with Addison the loss of the latter’s steadying
influence was acutely felt, and nothing that Steele attempted had any
stability.

Steele’s working alliance with Addison was so close and so constant
that the comparison between them is almost inevitable. Of the two
writers, some critics assert that Steele is the worthier. In
versatility and in originality he is at least Addison’s equal. His
humor has none of Addison’s simpering prudishness; it is broader
and less restrained, with a naïve, pathetic touch about it that is
reminiscent of Goldsmith. His pathos is more attractive and more
humane. But Steele’s very virtues are only his weaknesses sublimed;
they are emotional, not intellectual; of the heart, and not of the
head. He is incapable of irony; he lacks penetration and power; and
much of his moralizing is cheap and obvious. He lacks Addison’s care
and suave ironic insight; he is reckless in style and inconsequent in
method. And so, in the final estimate, as the greater artist he fails.

The passage given illustrates Steele’s easy style, the unconstrained
sentences, the fresh and almost colloquial vocabulary, and the genial
humor.

(_Mr Bickerstaff, the Mr Spectator of “The Tatler,” visits an
old friend._)

As soon as we were alone, he took me by the hand. “Well, my good
friend,” says he, “I am heartily glad to see thee; I was afraid
you would never have seen all the company that dined with you
to-day again. Do not you think the good woman of the house a
little altered since you followed her from the playhouse, to
find out who she was, for me?” I perceived a tear fall down his
cheek as he spoke, which moved me not a little. But, to turn the
discourse, said I, “She is not indeed quite that creature she
was, when she returned me the letter I carried from you; and
told me, she hoped as I was a gentleman I would be employed no
more to trouble her, who had never offended me; but would be so
much the gentleman’s friend as to dissuade him from a pursuit
which he could never succeed in. You may remember I thought
her in earnest; and you were compelled to employ your cousin
Will, who made his sister get acquainted with her, for you. You
cannot expect her to be for ever fifteen.” “Fifteen!” replied
my good friend: “Ah! you little understand, you that have lived
a bachelor, how great, how exquisite a pleasure there is in
being really beloved! It is impossible that the most beauteous
face in nature should raise in me such pleasing ideas as when I
look upon that excellent woman. That fading in her countenance
is chiefly caused by her watching with me in my fever. This was
followed by a fit of sickness, which had like to have carried
her off last winter. I tell you sincerely, I have so many
obligations to her that I cannot, with any sort of moderation,
think of her present state of health. But as to what you say of
fifteen, she gives me every day pleasures beyond what I ever
knew in the possession of her beauty, when I was in the vigour
of youth. Every moment of her life brings me fresh instances of
her complacency to my inclinations, and her prudence in regard
to my fortune. Her face is to me much more beautiful than when
I first saw it; there is no decay in any feature which I cannot
trace from the very instant it was occasioned by some anxious
concern for my welfare and interests.”

DANIEL DEFOE (1659–1731)

=1. His Life.= Much of Defoe’s life is still undetermined, but it
is certain that he was born, lived, and died in poor and somewhat
disreputable circumstances. He was born in London, became a soldier,
and then took to journalism. He is one of the earliest, and in some
ways the greatest, of the Grub Street hacks. He entered the service
of the Whigs, by whom he was frequently employed in obscure and
questionable work. He died in London, a fugitive from the law, and in
great distress.

=2. His Prose.= This is of amazing bulk and variety, and for
convenience can be divided into two groups.

(_a_) _Political Writings._ Like most of the other writers of his time,
Defoe turned out a mass of political tracts and pamphlets. Many of them
appeared in his own journal, _The Review_, which, issued in 1704, is in
several ways the forerunner of _The Tatler_ and _The Spectator_. His
_Shortest Way with the Dissenters_ (1702) brought upon him official
wrath, and caused him to be fined and pilloried. He wrote one or two
of his political tracts in rough verses which are more remarkable for
their vigor than for their elegance. The best known of this class is
_The True-born Englishman_ (1701). In all his propaganda Defoe is
vigorous and acute, and he has a fair command of irony and invective.

(_b_) _His Fiction._ His works in fiction were all produced in the
latter part of his life, at almost incredible speed. First came
_Robinson Crusoe_ (1719); then _Duncan Campbell_, _Memoirs of a
Cavalier_, and _Captain Singleton_, all three books in 1720; in 1722
appeared _Moll Flanders_, _A Journal of the Plague Year_, and _Colonel
Jack_; then _Roxana_ (1724) and _A New Voyage round the World_ (1725).

This great body of fiction has grave defects, largely due to the
immense speed with which it was produced. The general plan of the novel
in each case is slatternly and unequal; as, for example, in _Robinson
Crusoe_, where the incomparable effect of the story of the island is
marred by long and sometimes tedious narratives of other lands. Then
the style is unpolished to the verge of rudeness. In homely and direct
narrative this may not be a grave drawback, but it shuts Defoe out from
a large province of fiction in which he might have done valuable work.

But at its best, as in the finest parts of _Robinson Crusoe_, his
writing has a realism that is rarely approached by the most ardent of
modern realists. This is achieved by Defoe’s grasp of details and his
unerring sense of their supreme literary value, a swift and resolute
narrative method, and a plain and matter-of-fact style that inevitably
lays incredulity asleep. To the development of the novel Defoe’s
contribution is priceless.

In the passage now given note Defoe’s completely unadorned style, the
loosely constructed sentences, and the almost laughable attention to
the minutest detail:

I went to work upon this boat the most like a fool that ever man
did who had any of his senses awake. I pleased myself with the
design, without determining whether I was able to undertake it;
not but that the difficulty of launching my boat came often into
my head; but I put a stop to my own inquiries into it, by this
foolish answer: Let us first make it: I warrant I will find some
way or other to get it along when it is done.

This was a most preposterous method; but the eagerness of my
fancy prevailed, and to work I went. I felled a cedar-tree,
and I question much, whether Solomon ever had such a one for
the building of the Temple at Jerusalem; it was five feet ten
inches diameter at the lower part next the stump, and four feet
eleven inches diameter at the end of twenty-two feet, where it
lessened, and then parted into branches. It was not without
infinite labour that I felled this tree; I was twenty days
hacking and hewing at the bottom, and fourteen more getting
the branches and limbs and the vast spreading head of it cut
off; after this it cost me a month to shape it and dub it to a
proportion, and to something like the bottom of a boat, that
it might swim upright as it ought to do. It cost me near three
months more to clear the inside, and work it out so as to make
an exact boat of it: this I did indeed without fire, by mere
mallet and chisel, and by the dint of hard labour, till I had
brought it to be a very handsome periagua, and big enough to
have carried six-and-twenty men, and consequently big enough to
have carried me and all my cargo.
_Robinson Crusoe_

OTHER PROSE-WRITERS

=1. John Arbuthnot (1667–1735).= Arbuthnot was born in
Kincardineshire, Scotland, studied medicine at Oxford, and spent the
latter part of his life in London, where he became acquainted with
Pope and Swift. His writings are chiefly political, and include the
_Memoirs of Scriblerus_ (1709), which, though published in the
works of Pope, is thought to be his; _The History of John Bull_
(1712 or 1713), ridiculing the war-policy of the Whigs; and _The Art
of Political Lying_ (1712).

Arbuthnot writes with wit and vivacity, and with many pointed
allusions. At his best he somewhat resembles Swift, though he lacks the
great devouring flame of the latter’s personality.

=2. Lord Bolingbroke (1678–1751).= Henry St. John, Viscount
Bolingbroke, was one of the chief political figures of the period. At
the age of twenty-six he was Secretary for War in the Tory Government;
was thereafter implicated in Jacobite plots; was compelled to flee to
France; was pardoned, and permitted to return to England in 1723; had
once more to return to France in 1735; then, after seven years’ exile,
was finally restored to his native land.

Bolingbroke prided himself on being both a patron of letters and a man
of letters. He influenced Pope, not always to the latter’s advantage.
In 1753 appeared his _Letter to Windham_ (written in 1717); then in
1749 he produced _Letters on the Spirit of Patriotism_ and _The Idea
of a Patriot King_. These reflect the Tory sentiments of their author,
are written with a vigor that is often near to coarseness, and have all
the tricks and vices of the rhetorician.

=3. George Berkeley (1685–1753).= Born in Ireland, Berkeley was
educated at Dublin, where he distinguished himself in mathematics.
Taking holy orders, he went to London (1713), and became acquainted
with Swift and other wits. He was a man of noble and charitable mind,
and interested himself in many worthy schemes. He was appointed a dean,
and then was made Bishop of Cloyne in 1734. He was a man of great
and enterprising mind, and wrote with much charm on a diversity of
scientific, philosophical, and metaphysical subjects.

Among his books are _The Principles of Human Knowledge_, a notable
effort in the study of the human mind that appeared in 1710,
_Dialogues of Hylas and Philonous_ (1713), and _Alciphron, or the
Minute Philosopher_ (1733). He is among the first, both in time and
in quality, of the English philosophers who have dressed their ideas
in language of literary distinction. He writes with delightful ease,
disdaining ornament or affectation, and his command of gentle irony is
capable and sure.

=4. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu (1689–1762).= This lady, famous in
her day for her masculine force of character, was the eldest daughter
of the Duke of Kingston. In 1712 she married Edward Wortley Montagu,
and moved in the highest literary and social circles. In 1716 her
husband was appointed ambassador at Constantinople, and while she was
in the East she corresponded regularly with many friends, both literary
and personal. She is the precursor of the great letter-writers of the
later portion of the century. Her _Letters_ are written shrewdly
and sensibly, often with a frankness that is a little staggering. She
had a vivid interest in her world, and to a certain extent she can
communicate her interest to her reader.

=5. Earl of Shaftesbury (1671–1713).= Anthony Ashley Cooper,
third Earl of Shaftesbury, is another example of the aristocratic
_dilettante_ man of letters. He had little taste for the politics
of the time, and aspired to be famous as a great writer. He traveled
much, and died at Naples in 1713.

His books are written with great care and exactitude, and are pleasant
and lucid without being particularly striking. His _Characteristics
of Men, Manners, Opinions, and Times_ (1716), though it contains
nothing very original or profound, suited the taste of the time and
was widely popular. Pope drew upon it for much of his matter in his
_Essay on Man_.

ALEXANDER POPE (1688–1744)

=1. His Life.= Pope was born in London, the only child of a
considerable city tradesman. From his birth two conditions were to
influence very deeply the career of the future poet: first, he was puny
and delicate, and, secondly, he was baptized into the Roman Catholic
faith. His bodily infirmity, which amounted almost to deformity, caused
him to be privately educated; and to the end of his life his knowledge
had that extensive range, joined to the liability to make the grossest
blunders, which is so often the mark of an eager and precocious
intelligence imperfectly trained. Pope’s religious faith, though he
was never excessively devout as a Roman Catholic, closed to him all
the careers, professional and political, in which a man of his keen
intelligence might have been expected to succeed. He was thus forced
into the pursuit of letters as his only road to fame. From his earliest
youth we find him passionately desirous of making his name as an author.

His youth was passed at Binfield, his father’s small estate near
Windsor Forest. Before he was twenty years old he got into touch with
Wycherley, now old and besotted. Through him Pope became acquainted
with Addison, Swift, and Steele, whose friendship he eagerly
cultivated. His early verses, admirably attuned to the ear of the age,
brought him recognition and applause; his translation of Homer brought
him wealth; and from that point he never looked back. He became the
dominating poetical personality of the day. In 1718 he removed to his
house at Twickenham, whose pinchbeck beauties became the wonder, envy,
and derision of literary and social London. It remained his home till
“that long disease, his life,” was finished in 1744.

=2. His Character.= In this book it is fortunately seldom that we
are called upon to analyze the character of an English writer in any
detail, but in the case of Pope it is necessary. With no man more than
Pope are such personal considerations relevant and cogent; for in no
writings more than in Pope’s do we find the author’s vices and his
weaknesses--as well as his virtues--so fully portrayed.

By the time he was thirty Pope’s hands were full of the gifts of
fortune, but he was far from being happy. He was so easily stung that
his numerous detractors were irresistibly impelled to sting him; and
his agonies, his vicious petulance, and his wild retaliation were so
pathetic and yet so ludicrous that his foes were incited to try his
temper again. Hence much of Pope’s life was a series of skirmishes
with friends and foes alike. His disposition, too, had so many flaws
that it trembled at the pressure of a finger. His stinginess, though
he was rich beyond the dreams of a poet’s avarice, was a byword. His
snobbishness was extreme; he fawned before lords, and he assailed his
less fortunate poetical brethren with a rancor whose very coarseness
blunts its edge. His vanity was egregious, and shrank from criticism
as a raw nerve shrinks from fire. His nature stooped to actions so
tortuous and reprehensible that his biographers confess, with a sigh
of relief, that they cannot get quite to the bottom of them. His
procedure in the publication of some of his work almost stupefies the
investigator with its combination of duplicity, bad faith, and sheer
cross-grained perversion of the truth.

Yet he had his virtues, to which his friends testified with a curious
half-laughing mixture of contempt and admiration. He could sometimes
be generous in a crabbed, distorted fashion; and if only his friends
allowed for his weaknesses, he repaid their consideration with a
devoted cordiality that defied the shocks of fortune. At bottom his
nature was not unkindly, but it was corroded and overlaid with the
effects of his physical weakness, with his natural vanity, and with a
shrinking self-criticism. And, above all, he was an artist. He lived
for his art; everything he wrote was stamped with the joy of creation
and his desire for perfection and permanency; and it is as an artist
that he will finally be judged.

=3. His Poetry.= “I lisped in numbers,” he tells us. But his earliest
work of any importance is his _Pastorals_. According to his own
statement (which need not be believed) they were begun when he was
sixteen years old. They appeared in 1709, when he was twenty-one. They
contain the usual trumpery of “sylvan strains,” “warbling Philomel,”
and other expressions that are the bane of the artificial pastoral. Yet
though the work is immature in some respects, it shows that Pope has
found his feet with regard to his metrical method. The poem is written
in the heroic couplet, which is neat, effective, and melodious in a
namby-pamby fashion. We give a specimen of his earliest numbers:

And yet my numbers please the rural throng,
Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song:
The nymphs, forsaking ev’ry cave and spring,
Their early fruit, and milk-white turtles bring;
Each am’rous nymph prefers her gifts in vain,
On you their gifts are all bestowed again.
For you the swains the fairest flow’rs design,
And in one garland all their beauties join;
Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
In whom all beauties are compris’d in one.

In 1711 appeared the _Essay on Criticism_, also written in heroic
couplets. The poem professes to set forth the gospel of “wit” and
“nature” as it applies to the literature of the period. The work is
clearly immature. There is nothing novel in its theories, which are
conventionality itself; but it dresses the aged theories so neatly
and freshly that the poem is a lasting monument to the genius of the
writer. It is full of apt, quotable lines that have become imbedded in
the language:

A little learning is a dangerous thing!...
And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art....
To err is human: to forgive, divine....
True wit is nature to advantage dressed....

_Windsor Forest_ (1713) is another pastoral in the familiar meter.
Artificial still, it nevertheless shows a broader treatment, and a
still stronger grip of the stopped couplet.

By this time Pope was well known, and he set about his ambitious scheme
of translating the _Iliad_, which was eventually issued in 1720. For
the book, as he was zealously assisted by his literary friends, he was
successful in compiling a phenomenal subscription list, which (with
the additional translation of the _Odyssey_) brought him more than ten
thousand pounds. Such a triumph produced the inevitable reaction on
the part of his critics, who maintained that Pope knew little Latin
and less Greek, and that the translation was no translation at all. It
certainly bears no close resemblance to the original Greek. Bentley,
the famous classical scholar, remarked to the chagrined author, “A
pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but you must not call it Homer.” The line of
Pope has none of the great lift of the Homeric line, but it is often
vigorous and picturesque, and answers with fair facility to the demands
he makes upon it.

The troops exulting sat in order round,
And beaming fires illumined all the ground.
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,
O’er heaven’s pure azure spreads her sacred light,
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,
And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene,
Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumber’d gild the glowing pole,
O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,
And tip with silver every mountain’s head:
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,
Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.

In 1712, in a volume of Lintot’s _Miscellanies_, appeared _The
Rape of the Lock_, one of the most brilliant poems in the language.
The occasion of it was trivial enough. A Lord Petre had offended a
Miss Fermor by cutting off a lock of her hair; dissensions between the
families had followed, and Pope set about to laugh both parties back
into good-humor. He makes of the incident a mock-heroic poem, and,
rather unwisely, invents elaborate machinery of sylphs, gnomes, and
other airy beings that take part in the mortals’ misdemeanors. The
length becomes disproportionate to the theme, but the effect is quite
dazzling. The style is highly artificial and mannered; but we must
remember that Pope is jocular all through, and that he is purposely
pitching his style as high as the subject permits. It abounds in
rhetorical devices, such as climax, antithesis, and apostrophe. The
effect produced is like that of a crackle of colored fireworks; smart
epigrams explode in almost every line, and conceits dazzle with their
brilliance. Yet so great an artist is Pope that by sheer skill he
prevents the work from being flashy or vulgar: the workmanship is too
delicate and precise.

But when to mischief mortals bend their will,
How soon they find fit instruments of ill!
Just then, Clarissa drew, with tempting grace,
A two-edged weapon from her shining case;
So ladies, in romance, assist their knight,
Present the spear, and arm him for the fight.
He takes the gift with reverence, and extends
The little engine on his fingers’ ends;
This just behind Belinda’s neck he spread,
As o’er the fragrant steams she bent her head.
Swift to the lock a thousand sprites repair,
A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair!
And thrice they twitched the diamond in her ear;
Thrice she looked back, and thrice the foe drew near.
Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought
The close recesses of the virgin’s thought:
As on the nosegay in her breast reclined,
He watched the ideas rising in her mind,
Sudden he viewed, in spite of all her art,
An earthly lover lurking at her heart.
Amazed, confused, he found his power expired,
Resigned to fate, and with a sigh retired.
The peer now spreads the glittering forfex wide
To enclose the lock; now joins it, to divide.
E’en then, before the fatal engine closed,
A wretched sylph too fondly interposed;
Fate urged the shears, and cut the sylph in twain
(But airy substance soon unites again),
The meeting points the sacred hair dissever
From the fair head, for ever, and for ever!

_The Dunciad_ appeared in 1728, with many subterfuges to conceal the
authorship, and it reappeared in a larger, though not in an improved
form, in 1742. In this poem he turns to rend the host of minor writers
who had been making his life a misery with their pin-pricks. It shows
his satirical powers at their best and at their worst. It is charged
with a stinging wit, but is too spiteful and venomous, and confounds
the good with the bad. Yet here as elsewhere Pope has many fine
passages. The conclusion is probably the noblest that he ever composed:

In vain, in vain--the all-composing hour
Resistless falls: the Muse obeys the Power.
She comes! She comes! The sable throne behold
Of Night primeval and of Chaos old!
Before her, Fancy’s gilded clouds decay,
And all its varying rainbows die away.
Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires,
The meteor drops, and in a flash expires....
See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,
Mountains of casuistry heaped o’er her head!...
See Mystery to Mathematics fly!
In vain! They gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
Religion blushing veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires....
Lo! thy dread empire, CHAOS! is restored;
Light dies before thy uncreating word;
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall,
And universal darkness buries all.

The last years of his life were occupied chiefly in the composition of
poetical epistles and satires (1731–35). Some of these are of great
power, and show Pope’s art at its best. The _Epistle to Arbuthnot_
contains the famous satirical portrait of Addison, with whom Pope had
quarreled:

Peace to all such; but were there one whose fires
True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires;
Blest with each talent and each art to please,
And born to write, converse, and live with ease:
Should such a man, too fond to rule alone,
Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne,
View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes,
And hate for arts that caused himself to rise;
Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;
Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,
A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend;
Dreading even fools, by flatterers besieged,
And so obliging, that he ne’er obliged;
Like Cato, give his little senate laws,
And sit attentive to his own applause;
While wits and templars every sentence raise,
And wonder with a foolish face of praise:--
Who but must laugh, if such a man there be?
Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?

In this passage, though he does not perceive it, Pope is holding up a
glass to his own method. Observe how he “damns with faint praise”; how
he is “willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike.” Nearly the whole
extract might be applied to its author.

The last considerable poem is the _Essay on Man_ (1734), which
owes much to the suggestions of Bolingbroke. At the beginning of the
poem he says “The proper study of mankind is man,” and then proceeds
with a long and confused treatment of man and his place in the
universe. As a contribution to philosophy it is contemptible, but from
it we can detach clusters of passages full of force and beauty. The
verse has all its author’s care and lucidity. In some places, indeed,
the style is cut to the very bone, as it is in the well-known line,
“Man never is but always to be blessed.”

=4. His Prose.= As a writer of prose Pope is of secondary importance.
His _Letters_, published under a cloud of devious tricks, clearly
are written with an eye on the public. They are addressed chiefly to
notable persons, such as Swift and Gay, and consist of pompous essays
upon abstract subjects. Sometimes in other letters he forgets himself,
and writes easily and brightly, especially when he is telling of his
own experiences.

=5. Summary.= It is now useful to draw together the various features of
the work of this important poet.

(_a_) Both in subject and in style his poems are _limited_. They
take people of his own social class, and they deal with their common
experiences and their common interests and aspirations. Pope rarely
dips below the surface, and when he does so he is not at his best. With
regard to his style, we have seen that it is almost wholly restricted
to the heroic couplet, used in a narrative and didactic subject. He
is almost devoid of the lyrical faculty, and the higher artistic
emotions--“passion and apathy, and glory and shame”--are beyond his
artistic grasp.

(_b_) Within these limits his work is _powerful_ and _effective_. The
wit is keen; the satire burns like acid; and his zeal is unshakable.
In serious topics, as in the _Essay on Man_, he can give imperishable
shape to popular opinions.

(_c_) His work is _careful_ and almost _fastidious_, and thus confers
an enormous benefit upon English poetry. He cured poetry of the
haphazard methods of the earlier ages. With inspiration lacking, care
was more than ever necessary, and in this Pope led the way. His verse
reads so easily owing to the great care he took with it.

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
As those move easiest who have learned to dance.
_Essay on Criticism_

(_d_) His _meter_ is among the most discussed in our literature. Its
merits and demerits are quite clear to view. Against it we can urge its
artificiality, its lack of originality, and the vile creeping paralysis
that it communicated to the other metrical forms. Yet in its favor we
must recognize its strength, unbreakable and pliable, like a strong
bow, its clearness, point, and artistic brevity, and its incomparable
excellence in some forms of satire and narrative. It is unprofitable to
compare it with blank verse and other forms. We must recognize it as in
a class apart.

OTHER POETS

=1. Matthew Prior (1664–1721).= Born in Dorsetshire, Prior studied
at Cambridge, and was early engaged in writing on behalf of the Tories,
from whom he received several valuable appointments. In 1701 he entered
the House of Commons; and in 1715, becoming involved in Jacobite
intrigues, he was imprisoned. He was liberated in 1717, and died in
1721.

His first long work is _The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse_ (1687),
written in collaboration with Charles Montagu, and ridiculing _The Hind
and the Panther_. Other longer works are _Alma_ (1716) and _Solomon_
(1718). The first imitates Butler in _Hudibras_, and with fair success;
the second, written in the heroic couplet, aims at being a serious
poem, but its seriousness is often marred with levity, and it shows no
wisdom or insight.

Prior’s chief distinction lies in his miscellaneous verse, which is
varied, bulky, and of a high quality. In some respects it resembles
the verses of Swift, for much of it is composed in the octosyllabic
couplet, and it has a fair amount of Swift’s force and dexterity. Prior
lacks Swift’s deadly power and passion, but he surpasses the Dean in
versatility, in an easy wit and impudence, and in sentimentality. In
this pleasant ease of verse and sentiment he is rarely approached. Some
of the best of his shorter pieces are _The Chameleon_, _The Thief and
the Cordelier_, and _To Chloe_.

=2. John Gay (1685–1732).= Gay was born in humble circumstances, and
was apprenticed to a silk-mercer; but, being ambitious, he entered the
service of the Duchess of Monmouth (1713). His poems having brought
him some fame, he sought a public appointment. He was only moderately
successful in this search, and his lazy and indifferent habits spoiled
the chances that came in his way. He died in London, an amiable and
shiftless idler.

His chief works are _Rural Sports_ (1713), written in the heroic
couplet, and resembling Pope’s _Pastorals, The Shepherd’s Week_ (1714),
and _What d’Ye Call it?_ (1715), a pastoral farce. _Trivia, or The
Art of Walking the Streets of London_ (1715) is a witty parody of the
heroic style, and it contains bright descriptions of London streets;
then came two plays, _Acis and Galatea_ and _The Beggar’s Opera_
(1728). This last play had a great success, which has lasted to the
present day. It became the rage, and ran for sixty-two performances.
It deserved its success, for it contains some pretty songs and much
genuine though boisterous humor. Gay had the real lyrical gift, which
was all the more valuable considering the age he lived in. His ballad
_Black-eyed Susan_ is still popular.

=3. Edward Young (1683–1765).= Young had a long life, and produced
a large amount of literary work of variable quality. He was born in
Hampshire, went to Oxford, and late in life (about 1730) entered the
Church. He lived much in retirement, though in his later years he
received a public appointment.

His major works are _The Last Day_ (1713) and _The Force of Religion_
(1714), which are moralizings written in the heroic couplet; _The Love
of Fame_ (1724), which shows an advance in the use of the couplet; and
a poem in blank verse, _The Complaint, or Night Thoughts_ (1742). This
last poem, which was inspired by the death of his wife, had a great and
long-enduring popularity, which has now vanished. Like Young’s other
poems, it shows some power of expression and somber satisfaction at his
own misery. In the history of literature it is of some consequence, for
the blank verse is of considerable strength, and as a reaction against
the dominance of the couplet its value is undeniable.

=4. Sir Samuel Garth (1661–1719).= Garth was an older man than most of
the other poets mentioned in this chapter. He was a popular physician,
assisted Pope in the young man’s first efforts, and was knighted when
George I ascended the throne.

_The Dispensary_, published in 1699, is the one work which gives
him his place. It deals with a long-defunct squabble between physicians
and apothecaries, and its importance is due to its being written in a
kind of heroic couplet that is a link in style between Dryden and Pope.

=5. Richard Savage (1697–1743).= Savage’s melancholy fate, and his
early friendship with Johnson, have given him a prominence that he
scarcely deserves. He was born in London, and, according to his own
story, was the child of Richard Savage, Earl Rivers. Savage passed
his youth in miserable circumstances, took to hack-work with the
publishers, besotted himself with drink and debauchery, and died in a
debtor’s prison in Bristol.

His two chief poems are _The Bastard_ (1728) and _The Wanderer_ (1729).
Both are written in the heroic couplet, and consist of long frenzied
moralizings of his own unhappy lot. These works have much energy and
some power of expression, but they are diffuse and rhetorical in style.
Savage cannot rid himself of his personal grievances, which, inflamed
by his dissipations, produce a morbid extravagance that ruins his work
as poetry.

=6. Lady Winchilsea (1661–1720).= Born in Hampshire, the daughter of
Sir William Kingsmill, Anne, Countess of Winchilsea, passed most of
her life in London, where she became acquainted with Pope and other
literary notables. Some of her poems, which were of importance in their
day, are _The Spleen_ (1701), a Pindaric ode; _The Prodigy_ (1706); and
_Miscellany Poems_ (1714), containing the _Nocturnal Reverie_.

Wordsworth says, “It is remarkable that, excepting the _Nocturnal
Reverie_ and a passage or two in _Windsor Forest_ of Pope, the poetry
of the period intervening between the publication of _Paradise Lost_
and _The Seasons_ does not contain a single new image of nature.” This
statement is perhaps an exaggeration, but there is no doubt that Lady
Winchilsea had the gift of producing smooth and melodious verse, and
she had a discerning eye for the beauties of nature.

=7. Ambrose Philips (1675–1749).= Philips was a Shropshire man, was
educated at Cambridge, and became a considerable figure in the literary
world. He was a friend of Pope, and wrote _Pastorals_ (1709), which
Pope damned with faint praise. The two poets quarreled, and Pope gave
the other immortality in _The Dunciad_. Philips obtained several posts
under the Government, and passed a happy and prosperous life.

He wrote three tragedies, the best of which is _The Distressed
Mother_ (1712). He produced a fair amount of prose for the
periodicals, and his miscellaneous verse, of a light and agreeable
kind, was popular in its day. His poetry was called “namby-pamby,”
from his Christian name; and the word has survived in its general
application.

=8. Sir Richard Blackmore (1650–1729).= Blackmore was an industrious
physician, and an industrious and unsuccessful poet. His name became a
byword by reason of his huge, dreary epics, which he composed in his
spare time. Some of them are _Prince Arthur_ (1695), _Job_ (1700), and
_The Creation_ (1712). They are written in tolerable heroic couplets.

=9. Thomas Parnell (1679–1718).= Parnell was born in Ireland, entered
the Church, became an archdeacon, and prospered in his post. His poems
consist of miscellaneous work, and were extremely popular in their day.
The best of his work is contained in _The Hermit_ (1710), which is
written in heroic couplets, and in places reminds the reader of _The
Deserted Village_. He shows skill as a versifier, and he has a genuine
regard for nature.

=10. Allan Ramsay (1686–1758).= Born in Lanarkshire, Ramsay came
to Edinburgh at the age of fifteen, and became a wig-maker. He soon
took to writing verses, which admitted him into the society of the
Edinburgh wits. He started a bookseller’s shop in the city, and became
a kind of local unofficial Poet Laureate. His ballads became very
popular, and he brought upon himself the notice of the leaders of the
literary world in London.

Ramsay published much miscellaneous writing, of which a large amount
was issued to satisfy a passing demand. The quality can be poor
enough; but some of it is more meritorious. A piece like _Lochaber
No More_ is quite noteworthy, and others reveal his freakish and
pleasing sense of humor. His _Gentle Shepherd_ (1725), a pastoral
drama, has many of the vices of its species; but on the other hand
it contains pleasing natural descriptions, some delightful though
sentimental characters, and a few charming lyrics. As a literary
ancestor of Burns, Ramsay is important. He influenced the poetry of the
Ayrshire man, who freely acknowledged the aid he obtained. Ramsay also
shows how the natural genius of Scotland, while bowing to the supremacy
of the school of Pope, nevertheless diverged on lines natural to itself.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

The period under review marks a hardening of the process discernible
in the last chapter. The secession from romanticism is complete; the
ideals of classicism reign supreme. Yet so unsleeping is the sense of
progress in our literature that, even at the lowest ebb of the romantic
spirit, a return to nature is feebly beginning. In the next chapter we
shall notice this new movement, for in the next period we shall see it
becoming full and strong.

=1. Poetry.= In no department of literature is the triumph of
classicism seen more fully than in poetry.

(_a_) The _lyric_ almost disappears. What remains is of a light and
artificial nature. The best lyrics are found in some of Prior’s shorter
pieces, in Gay’s _Beggar’s Opera_, and in Ramsay’s _Gentle Shepherd_.

(_b_) The _ode_ still feebly survives in the Pindaric form. Pope wrote
a few with poor success, one of them being _On St. Cecilia’s Day_,
in imitation of Dryden’s ode. Lady Winchilsea was another mediocre
exponent of the same form.

(_c_) The _satiric_ type is common, and of high quality. The best
example is Pope’s _Dunciad_, a personal satire. Of political satire in
poetry we have nothing to compare with Dryden’s. Satire tends to be
lighter, brighter, and more cynical. It is spreading to other forms
of verse besides the heroic couplet, and we can observe it in the
octosyllabic couplet in the poems of Swift, Prior, and Gay. A slight
development is the epistolary form of the satire, of which Pope became
fond in his latter years. Such is his _Epistles of Horace Imitated_.

(_d_) _Narrative Poetry._ This is of considerable bulk, and contains
some of the best productions of the period. Pope’s translation of Homer
is a good example, and of the poorer sort are Blackmore’s abundant
epics. We have also to notice a slight revival of the ballad, which was
imitated by Gay and Prior. Their imitations are bloodless things, but
they are worth noticing because they show that the interest is there.

(_e_) _The Pastoral._ The artificial type of the pastoral was highly
popular, for several reasons. It gave an air of rusticity to the most
formal of compositions; it was thought to be elegant; it was easily
written; and it had the approval of the ancients, who made free use
of the type. Pope and Philips have been mentioned as examples of the
pastoral poets.

=2. Drama.= Here there is almost a blank. The brilliant and exotic
flower of Restoration comedy has withered, and nothing of any merit
takes its place. In tragedy Addison’s _Cato_ is almost the only
passable example. In comedy Steele’s plays are an expurgated survival
of the Restoration type. The only advance in the drama is shown in
_The Beggar’s Opera_, whose robust vitality, sprightly music, and
charming songs make it stand alone in its generation.

=3. Prose.= In prose we have to chronicle a distinct advance. For
the first time we have periodical literature occupying a prominent
place in the writing of the time. At this point, therefore, it is
convenient to summarize the rise of periodical literature.

(_a_) _The Rise of the Periodical Press._ The first periodical
published in Europe was the _Gazetta_ (1536), in Venice. This was a
manuscript newspaper which was read publicly in order to give the
Venetians information regarding their war with the Turks. In England
news-sheets were published during the reign of Elizabeth, but they were
irregular in their appearance, being issued only when some notable
event, such as a great flood or fire, made their sale secure. The
first regular English paper was _The Weekly Newes_ (1622), issued by
Nathaniel Butter. The sheet contained some items of news from abroad,
and was devoid of editorial comment or literary matter.

During the Civil War of the middle of the seventeenth century both
Royalists and Roundheads issued their newspapers, which appeared
spasmodically and seldom survived for any length of time. A Royalist
journal was the _Mercurius Anglicus_, which was succeeded by several
others of somewhat similar names. The Roundhead publications were the
_Mercurius Pragmaticus_, the _Mercurius Politicus_, and others. After
the Restoration newspaper-writing became so popular and so troublesome
that the Government in 1662 suspended all private sheets and issued in
their place the one official organ, _The Public Intelligencer_. This
became _The Oxford Gazette_ (1665), and finally _The London Gazette_
(1666). The office of Gazetteer became an official appointment, and
Steele held it for a time.

In 1682 the freedom of the Press was restored, and large numbers of
_Mercuries_ and other periodicals appeared and flourished in their
different fashions. Advertisements began to be a feature of the papers.
In _The Jockey’s Intelligencer_ (1683) the charge is “a shilling for a
horse or coach, for notification, and sixpence for renewing.” In 1702
_The Daily Courant_, the first daily newspaper, was published, and it
survived until 1735. Then in the early years of the eighteenth century
the fierce contests between the Whigs and the Tories brought a rapid
expansion of the Press. The most famous of the issues were Defoe’s
_Review_ (1704), a Whig organ whose writings brought its editor into
disrepute; and its opponent _The Examiner_, the Tory paper to which men
like Swift and Prior contributed regularly. These newspapers are almost
entirely political, but they contain satirical work of much merit.

Then in 1709 Steele published _The Tatler_. At first it was Steele’s
intention to make it entirely a _news_-paper; but under the pressure
of his own genius and of that of Addison its literary features were
accentuated till the daily essay became the feature of leading
interest. _The Spectator_, begun in March, 1711, carried the tendency
still farther. The literary journal has come to stay. Steele’s
_Plebeian_ (1718) is an early example of the political periodical.

(_b_) _The Rise of the Essay._ Johnson defines an essay as “a loose
sally of the mind, an irregular indigested piece, not a regular or
orderly performance.” This definition is not quite complete, for it
does not cover such an elaborate work as Locke’s _Essay concerning
Human Understanding_. But for the miscellaneous prose essay, which
it is our immediate business to consider here, the definition will
do. An essay, therefore, must in other words be short, unmethodical,
personal, and written in a style that is literary, easy, and elegant.

The English essay has its roots in the Elizabethan period, in the
miscellaneous work of Lodge, Lyly, and Greene, and other literary
free-lances (see p. 142). Sir Philip Sidney’s _Apologie for
Poetrie_, published about 1580, is a pamphlet that attains a
rudimentary essay-form. But the first real essayist in English is
Francis Bacon (1561–1626), who published a short series of essays in
1597, enlarged in two later editions (1612 and 1625). His work follows
that of the French writer Montaigne, whose essays appeared about 1580.
In Bacon we have the miscellany of theme and the brevity, but we lack
the intimacy of treatment and of style. Bacon’s essays are rather the
disconnected musings of the philosopher than the personal opinions of
the literary executant.

The defects of Bacon were remedied by Abraham Cowley (1618–67), who
writes on such subjects as _Myself_, _The Garden_, and other familiar
themes. His style is somewhat heavy, but he has a pleasant discursive
manner, different from the dry and distant attitude of Bacon. He
provides the link between Addison and Bacon. Another advance is marked
by a group of character-writers who flourished in the first half of
the seventeenth century. They gave short character-sketches, often
very acute and humorous, of various types of people. The best known of
such writers are Joseph Hall (1574–1656), John Earle (1601–65), and
Sir Thomas Overbury (1581–1613). Overbury wrote short accounts of such
types as the _Tinker_, the _Milkmaid_, and the _Franklin_. His sketches
are short, are pithily expressed, and reveal considerable knowledge and
insight.

During the Restoration period we have Dryden’s _Essay of Dramatic
Poesie_ (1666), Locke’s _Essay concerning Human Understanding_ (1690),
and Temple’s _Essay on Poetry_ (1685). The two first works are too
long to be called essays proper, and fall rather under the name of
treatises. Temple’s essay, one of many that he published, is rather
long and formal, but it is nearer the type we are here considering.

With the development of the periodical press the short essay takes
a great stride forward. It becomes varied, and acquires character,
suppleness, and strength. The work of Addison and Steele has already
been noticed at some length. In _The Tatler_ (1709) and _The
Spectator_ (1711) they laid down the lines along which the essay
was to be developed by their great successors. Other essayists of the
time were Swift and Pope, who contributed to the periodicals, and
Defoe, whose miscellaneous work is of wide range and of considerable
importance.

(_c_) _Prose Narrative._ Much of the narrative is still disguised as
allegory, as in Swift’s _Gulliver’s Travels_ and Addison’s _Vision of
Mirza_. In his method Swift shows some advance, for he subordinates the
allegory and adds to the interest in the satire and the narrative. The
prominence given to fiction is still more noticeable in the novels of
Defoe, such as _Robinson Crusoe_. We are now in touch with the novel
proper, which will be treated in the next chapter.

(_d_) _Miscellaneous Prose._ There is a large body of religious,
political and philosophical work. Much of it is satirical. In
political prose Swift is the outstanding figure, with such books as
the _Drapier’s Letters_; and in religious writing his _Tale of a Tub_
has a sinister importance. Other examples are Bolingbroke’s _Spirit of
Patriotism_ (political), Berkeley’s _Alciphron_ (philosophical), and
Steele’s _The Christian Hero_ (religious).

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE

=1. Poetry.= In poetry we have to chronicle the domination of the
_heroic couplet_. This meter produced a close, clear, and almost
prosaic style, as we have noticed in the work of Pope. Blank verse is
still found in Young’s _Night Thoughts_. Another example of blank
verse is found in the mock epic of =John Philips (1676–1708)=
called _The Splendid Shilling_ (1703). The use of blank verse at
this time is important, for it marks both a resistance to the use of
the couplet and a promise of the revival of the freer forms of verse.
The following is a fair example of the blank verse of the period. In
style it is quite uninspired, and is philosophically dull, but it is
metrically accurate and has a certain dignity and force.

Amidst my list of blessings infinite
Stands this the foremost, “That my heart has bled.”
’Tis Heaven’s last effort of goodwill to man;
When pain can’t bless, Heaven quits us in despair.
Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls,
Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest;
Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart:
Reason absolves the grief, which reason ends.
May Heaven ne’er trust my friend with happiness,
Till it has taught him how to bear it well,
By previous pain; and made it safe to smile!
YOUNG, _Night Thoughts_

The _lyric_ still survives as a pale reflection of the Caroline
species. A short specimen will suffice to show the facile versification
and the lack of real passion that marks the treatment of the almost
universal love-theme:

Blessed as the immortal gods is he,
The youth who fondly sits by thee,
And hears and sees thee all the while,
Softly speak, and sweetly smile.

’Twas this deprived my soul of rest,
And raised such tumults in my breast;
For while I gazed, in transport tossed,
My breath was gone, my voice was lost.
AMBROSE PHILIPS, _Sappho_

The only other kind of meter of any consequence is the _octosyllabic
couplet_, which is largely employed in occasional and satirical
compositions. Its style is neat, sharp, and dexterous, as can be
observed in Swift’s and Prior’s verses.

=2. Prose.= In prose the outstanding feature is the emergence of the
middle style. Of this the chief exponent is Addison, of whom Johnson
says, “His prose is of the middle style, always equable, and always
easy, without glowing words and pointed sentences.” We now find
established a prose suitable for miscellaneous purposes--for newspaper
and political work, for the essay, for history and biography. The step
is of immense importance, for we can say that with Addison the modern
era of prose is begun.

Along with this went the temporary disappearance of ornate prose. Prose
of this style, though it had its beauties, was yet liable to be full
of flaws, and was unacceptable to the taste of the age of Pope. It
was therefore avoided. When ornate prose re-emerged later in the work
of Johnson and Gibbon it was purged of its technical weaknesses, a
development largely due to the period of maturing that it had undergone
in the time we are now considering.

While the school of Addison represents the middle style, the plainer
style is represented in the work of Swift and Defoe. Swift reveals the
style at its best--sure, clean, and strong. Defoe’s writing is even
plainer, and often descends to carelessness and inaccuracy. This is due
almost entirely to the haste with which he wrote. We give an example of
this colloquial style:

“Well,” said I, “honest man, that is a great mercy, as things
go now with the poor. But how do you live then, and how are you
kept from the dreadful calamity that is now upon us all?” “Why,
sir,” says he, “I am a waterman, and there is my boat,” says he,
“and the boat serves me for a house; I work in it in the day,
and I sleep in it in the night, and what I get I lay it down
upon that stone,” says he, showing me a broad stone on the other
side of the street, a good way from his house; “and then,” says
he, “I halloo and call to them till I make them hear, and they
come and fetch it.”
DEFOE, _A Journal of the Plague Year_

TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

EXERCISES

1. Compare the two following passages as examples of satire. They
represent the bitterest passages from Dryden and Pope respectively.
Remark upon the two methods--whether they are personal or general,
vindictive or magnanimous. Add a note on the style of Dryden contrasted
with that of Pope, and compare their handling of the heroic couplet.
Say which passage you prefer, and why you prefer it.

(1) Doeg,[160] though without knowing how or why,
Made still a blundering kind of melody;
Spurred boldly on, and dashed through thick and thin,
Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in;
Free from all meaning, whether good or bad,
And, in one word, heroically mad,
He was too warm on picking-work to dwell,
But faggoted his notions as they fell,
And, if they rhymed and rattled, all was well.
Spiteful he is not, though he wrote a satire,
For there still goes some thinking to ill-nature;
He needs no more than birds and beasts to think,
All his occasions are to eat and drink.
If he call rogue and rascal from a garret,
He means you no more mischief than a parrot;
The words for friend and foe alike were made,
To fetter them in verse is all his trade.
DRYDEN, _Absalom and Achitophel_ (_Part II_)

(2) _Pope._ A lash like mine no honest man shall dread,
But all such babbling blockheads in his stead.
Let Sporus[161] tremble--

_Arbuthnot._ What? that thing of silk,
Sporus, that mere white curd of ass’s milk?
Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?

_Pope._ Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,
This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings;
Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,
Yet wit ne’er tastes, and beauty ne’er enjoys:
So well-bred spaniels civilly delight
In mumbling of the game they dare not bite.
Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,
As shallow streams run dimpling all the way:
Whether in florid impotence he speaks,
And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks;
Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad,
Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad,
In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies,
Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies.
His wit, all see-saw between _that_ and _this_,
Now high, now low, now master up, now miss,
And he himself one vile antithesis.
Amphibious thing! that, acting either part,
The trifling head or the corrupted heart,
Fop at the toilet, flatt’rer at the board,
Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord.
Eve’s tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest,
A cherub’s face, a reptile all the rest;
Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust;
Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.
POPE, _Epistle to Arbuthnot_

2. The two following extracts are from love-lyrics of the period.
Comment upon the treatment of the theme, paying attention to the
strength of feeling expressed, and the naturalness of the expression.
Is the English or the Scottish poem the more natural? Write a note on
the style of each, and say if it suits the subject.

(1) All in the downs the fleet was moored,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard,
“Oh! where shall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true,
If my sweet William sails among the crew?”

William, who high upon the yard
Rocked with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He sighed, and cast his eyes below:
The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands,
And, quick as lightning, on the deck he stands.

* * * * *

“O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,
My vows shall ever true remain;
Let me kiss off that falling tear;
We only part to meet again.
Change as ye list, ye winds! my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.”

* * * * *

The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread;
No longer must she stay aboard;
They kissed, she sighed, he hung his head.
Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land,
“Adieu!” she cries, and waved her lily hand.
GAY, _Black-eyed Susan_

(2) Hear me, ye nymphs, and every swain,
I’ll tell how Peggy grieves me;
Though thus I languish and complain,
Alas! she ne’er believes me.
My vows and sighs, like silent air,
Unheeded, never move her;
At the bonnie bush aboon Traquair,
’Twas there I first did love her.

* * * * *

Yet now she scornful flies the plain,
The fields we then frequented;
If e’er we meet she shows disdain,
She looks as ne’er acquainted.
The bonnie bush bloomed fair in May,
Its sweets I’ll aye remember;
But now her frowns make it decay--
It fades as in December.

Ye rural powers, who hear my strains,
Why thus should Peggy grieve me?
Oh, make her partner in my pains,
Then let her smiles relieve me!
If not, my love will turn despair,
My passion no more tender;
I’ll leave the bush aboon Traquair--
To lonely wilds I’ll wander.
ROBERT CRAWFORD (_died 1733_)

3. The following three extracts are from the works of Swift, Addison,
and Defoe. Ascribe each piece to its author, in each case giving
distinctly your reasons for the selection of the authorship.

(1) When we were arrived upon the verge of his estate, we
stopped at a little inn to rest ourselves and our horses. The
man of the house had it seems been formerly a servant in the
knight’s family; and to do honour to his old master, had some
time since, unknown to Sir Roger, put him up in a sign-post
before the door; so that the knight’s head had hung out upon
the road about a week before he himself knew anything of the
matter. As soon as Sir Roger was acquainted with it, finding
that his servant’s indiscretion proceeded wholly from affection
and goodwill, he only told him that he had made him too high
a compliment; and when the fellow seemed to think that could
hardly be, added with a more decisive look, That it was too
great an honour for any man under a duke; but told him at the
same time, that it might be altered with a very few touches, and
that he himself would be at the charge of it.

(2) I turned away over the fields, from Bow to Bromley, and down
to Blackwall, to the stairs that are there for landing or taking
water.

Here I saw a poor man walking on the bank or sea-wall, as
they call it, by himself. I walked awhile also about, seeing
the houses all shut up; at last I fell into some talk, at a
distance, with this poor man. First I asked him how people did
there-abouts? “Alas! sir,” says he, “almost desolate; all dead
or sick: here are very few families in this part, or in that
village,” pointing at Poplar, “where half of them are not dead
already, and the rest sick.” Then pointing to one house, “There
they are all dead,” said he, “and the house stands open; nobody
dares go into it. A poor thief,” says he, “ventured in to steal
something, but he paid dear for his theft, for he was carried to
the churchyard too, last night.”

(3) I arrived at the fleet in less than half an hour. The enemy
was so frightened when they saw me that they leapt out of their
ships, and swam to shore, where there could not be fewer than
thirty thousand souls. I then took my tackling, and fastening
a hook to the hole at the prow of each, I tied all the cords
together at the end. While I was thus employed, the enemy
discharged several thousand arrows, many of which stuck in my
hands and face; and besides the excessive smart, gave me much
disturbance in my work. My greatest apprehension was for my
eyes, which I should have infallibly lost, if I had not suddenly
thought of an expedient.

4. We give two extracts, one dramatic and one non-dramatic, from the
blank verse of the time. Does the verse strike you as being passionate,
interesting, or profound? How would you describe it? Discuss the
meter--its regularity, melody, and power.

(1) It must be so--Plato, thou reason’st well,
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?
Or whence this secret dread and inward horror
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself and startles at destruction?
--’Tis the Divinity that stirs within us;
’Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates Eternity to man.
ADDISON, _Cato_

(2) Be wise to-day: ’tis madness to defer;
Next day the fatal precedent will plead;
Thus on, till wisdom is push’d out of life.
Procrastination is the thief of time;
Year after year it steals till all are fled,
And to the mercies of a moment leaves
The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
If not so frequent, would not this be strange?
That ’tis so frequent, _this_ is stranger still.
YOUNG, _Night Thoughts_

5. What is the object of Swift in the following satirical passage?
How does he achieve it? How are the style, figures of speech, and
meter suited to his purpose? Compare this extract with that from
_Hudibras_ given on pp. 208–9. Which is the wittier and more
deadly? How is the superiority gained?

Hobbes clearly proves that every creature
Lives in a state of war by nature.
The greater for the smallest watch,
But meddle seldom with their match.
A whale of moderate size will draw
A shoal of herrings down his maw:
A fox with geese his belly crams;
A wolf destroys a thousand lambs:
But search among the rhyming race,
The brave are worried by the base.
If on Parnassus’ top you sit,
You rarely bite, are always bit.
Each poet of inferior size
On you shall rail and criticise,
And strive to tear you limb from limb;
While others do as much for him.
The vermin only tease and pinch
Their foes superior by an inch.
So, naturalists observe, a flea
Hath smaller fleas that on him prey;
And these have smaller still to bite ’em,
And so proceed _ad infinitum_.
Thus every poet in his kind
Is bit by him that comes behind:
Who, though too little to be seen,
Can tease, and gall, and give the spleen.
_Rhapsody on Poetry_

6. We give an example of Swift’s prose satire, a passage in which he
describes the progress of a political lie. What is the figure of speech
underlying the passage, and how does it assist his purpose? Compare
this passage with the poetical one given in the last exercise: do the
two passages correspond in style, figurativeness, and force? Which
strikes you as being the more effective?

No wonder if an infant so miraculous in its birth should be
destined for great adventures: and accordingly we see it hath
been the guardian spirit of a prevailing party for almost twenty
years. It can conquer kingdoms without fighting, and sometimes
with the loss of a battle. It gives and resumes employments;
can sink a mountain to a mole-hill, and raise a mole-hill to
a mountain; hath presided for many years at committees of
elections; can wash a blackmoor white; make a saint of an
atheist, and a patriot of a profligate; can furnish foreign
ministers with intelligence, and raise or let fall the credit
of the nation. This goddess flies with a huge looking-glass in
her hands, to dazzle the crowd, and make them see, according as
she turns it, their ruin in their interest, and their interest
in their ruin. In this glass you will behold your best friends,
clad in coats powdered with _fleurs de lis_, and triple
crowns; their girdles hung round with chains, and beads, and
wooden shoes; and your worst enemies adorned with the ensigns of
liberty, property, indulgence, moderation, and a cornucopia in
their hands. Her large wings, like those of a flying-fish, are
of no use but while they are moist; she therefore dips them in
mud, and soaring aloft scatters it in the eyes of the multitude,
flying with great swiftness; but at every turn is forced to
stoop in dirty ways for new supplies.
_The Examiner_

7. “The bulk of your natives appear to me to be the most pernicious
race of odious little vermin that Nature ever suffered to crawl
upon the face of the earth.” The King of Brobdingnag says this to
Gulliver. How far does this represent Swift’s attitude in _Gulliver’s
Travels_, and how far does he succeed in conveying this impression?

8. “I fared like a distressed prince who calls in a powerful neighbour
to his aid: I was undone by my auxiliary; when I had once called him
in, I could not subsist without dependence on him.” This is Steele’s
own estimate of Addison’s contribution to _The Tatler_ and _The
Spectator_. As far as you can, estimate the share of each writer in
the production of the two periodicals, and apportion their relative
importance.

9. How much of their personal peculiarities and weaknesses appears in
the writings of Swift, Pope, and Steele? How far does the nature of
their literary work drive them to this self-revelation?

10. Account for the decline of the drama during the first half of the
eighteenth century.

11. From an examination of the table given on p. 273 answer the
following questions: What branches of poetry are most weakly
represented during the age of Pope? Why is that so? What branch of
prose-writing is the strongest? Why is that so?

12. Why is the period of Pope called “the Age of Prose”? Does this
description of the time need modification?

13. Give reasons for the rise of periodical literature during this
period.

14. The humor of Addison “is that of a gentleman, in which the quickest
sense of the ridiculous is constantly tempered by good nature and good
breeding.... He preserves a look of demure serenity.... The mirth of
Swift is the mirth of Mephistopheles.... Swift moves laughter, but
never joins in it.” (Macaulay.) Compare the humor of Swift with that of
Addison. Which of the two does Pope more closely resemble in humor?

15. “Fancy, provided she knows her place, is tolerated; but Imagination
is kept at a distance.” (Saintsbury.) Show how far this statement
applies to the poetry of this time.

CHAPTER IX

THE AGE OF TRANSITION

TIME-CHART OF THE CHIEF AUTHORS

_The thick line shows the period of active literary work._

1720 1730 1740 1750 1760 1770 1780 1790 1800
| | | | | | | | |
| |║[162] | ║ | | | | | |
Thomson |........|║==============║ | | | | | |
(1700–48) | | | | | | | | |
| ║ | | ║ | ║ | | | | |
Collins | ║......|........|.....║=========║ | | | | |
(1721–59) | | | | | | | | |
| | | ║ |║[163] ║| |║ | | |
Gray |........|........|...║============║|........|║ | | |
(1716–71) | | | |║ | | | | |
| |║ | | | | |║ | ║
Cowper | |║.......|........|........|........|........|║=================║
(1731–1800) | | | | | | | | |
| | | | ║ | | | ║[164]| ║ |
Burns | | | | ║.|........|........|...║=========║ |
(1759–96) | | | | | | | | |
| | |║[165] | ║ |║ | | | |
Richardson |........|........|║==========║.....|║ | | | |
(1689–1761) | | | | | | | | |
| | | ║ ║ |[166]║ | | | | |
Fielding |........|........|.║====║=======║ | | | | |
(1707–54) | | | ║ | | | | | |
| | ║ | | | | |║ ║ | |
Johnson |........|....║========================================║..║ | |
(1709–84) | | | | | | | | |
| ║ | | | ║ | | ║ | | |
Goldsmith | ║....|........|........|......║============║ | | |
(1728–74) | | | | | | | | |
| | ║ | | | | ║[167]| |║ ║ |
Gibbon | | ║....|........|........|........|...║==============║..║ |
(1737–94) | | | | | | | | |
| ║| | | ║ | | | | ║ |
Burke | ║|........|........|....║===================================║ |
(1729–97) | | | | | | | | |

THE TRANSITION IN POETRY

The following table is meant to convey a rough idea of the drift of
poetry toward Romanticism. In the table the lateral position of the
title of a work gives an approximate estimate of its approach to
the Romantic ideal. Such an estimate, especially in the case of the
transitional poems, cannot be determined absolutely, and need not be
taken as final. The table, nevertheless, reveals not only the steady
drift, but also the manner in which the different stages of development
overlap.

+------+--------------------------+------------------+---------------------------+
| DATE | CLASSICAL | TRANSITIONAL | ROMANTIC |
+------+--------------------------+------------------+---------------------------+
| | | | |
| | | | |
| 1730 | _The Dunciad_ | _The Seasons_ |
+------+--------------------------+------------------+---------------------------+
| | | | |
| | _Epistle to Arbuthnot_ | | |
| 1740 | _London_ | | |
+------+--------------------------+------------------+---------------------------+
| | | _Night Thoughts_ | |
| | | | |
| 1750 | _Vanity of Human Wishes_ | Collins’s _Odes_ | _The Castle of Indolence_ |
+------+--------------------------+------------------+---------------------------+
| | | Gray’s _Elegy_ | |
| | | | |
| 1760 | | | |
+------+--------------------------+------------------+---------------------------+
| | | | _Ossian_ |
| | | _The Traveller_ | |
| 1770 | | | Chatterton’s poems |
+------+--------------------------+------------------+---------------------------+
| | | _The Deserted Village_ |
| | | | |
| 1780 | | | |
+------+--------------------------+------------------+---------------------------+
| | | _The Village_ | |
| | | | _The Task_ Burns’s poems |
| 1790 | | | Blake’s poems |
+------+--------------------------+------------------+---------------------------+

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND (1740–1800)

The period covered by the present chapter is that of the middle and
later stages of the eighteenth century. During this time several
relevant historical movements call for notice.

=1. Decline of the Party Feud.= The contest between the Whigs and the
Tories still continues, but it is hardly of the previous bitterness.
The chief reason for this change is found in the weakness of the Tory
party, which by rash management and precipitate action made itself so
unpopular that for nearly thirty years--those in the middle of the
century--the Whigs had hardly any opposition. With the accession of
George III in 1760 the Tories swiftly climbed into power, and, with the
shadow of the French Revolution already looming up, party feeling soon
acquired additional ferocity.

=2. Commercial and Imperial Expansion.= Under the pacific management
of the great Whig minister Walpole, and owing to the successful wars
of his successors, the eighteenth century saw an immense growth in
the wealth and importance of the British Empire. On literature this
material welfare had its effect by endowing and stimulating research
and original work. The possession of India and America in itself was
an inspiration, and when the new territories brought new burdens, like
that of the American revolt, the clash of ideals led to fresh literary
effort, as can easily be seen in the work of Burke.

=3. The French Revolution.= Long before it burst, the storm of the
Revolution was, in the words of Burke, blackening the horizon. During
the century new ideas were germinating; new forces were gathering
strength; and the Revolution, when it did come in 1789, was only the
climax to a long and deeply diffused unrest. Revolutionary ideas
stirred literature to the very depths; the present chapter, and the
next as well, are a chronicle of their effects upon the literature of
England.

THE AGE OF TRANSITION

Like all other periods of transition, the one under review is disturbed
and confused. It is a matter of great difficulty to trace the different
tendencies, but with care the task may be accomplished with some
accuracy.

=1. The Double Tendency.= Two movements can be clearly observed in
the writing of the time, namely:

(_a_) The allegiance to the old order of classicism. In this movement
the chief and almost the only figure is that of Samuel Johnson. He is a
host in himself, however.

(_b_) The search after the new order of Romanticism. In their different
degrees, as can be seen from the second table at the beginning of this
chapter, many writers were engaged in the search. It began as early as
1730, with the publication of Thomson’s _Seasons_; and though it lapsed
for a time, it was to continue with gathering force during the latter
years of the century.

=2. The New Romanticism.= The general features of the Romantic movement
were:

(_a_) A return to nature--to the real nature of earth and air, and not
to the stuffy, bookish nature of the artificial pastoral.

(_b_) A fresh interest in man’s position in the world of nature. This
led to great activity in religious and political speculation, as will
be seen further on.

(_c_) An enlightened sympathy for the poor and oppressed. In English
literature during this time one has but to think of the work of Cowper,
Burns, and Crabbe, and even of the classically minded Gray, to perceive
the revolution that is taking place in the minds of men.

(_d_) A revolt against the conventional literary technique, such as
that of the heroic couplet. On the other hand, we have a desire for
strength, simplicity, and sincerity in the expression of the new
literary ideals.

(_e_) Fresh treatment of Romantic themes in such poems as _The Lay of
the Last Minstrel_, _The Ancient Mariner_, _La Belle Dame sans Merci_.

In the present chapter we shall perceive all the above features dimly
taking shape. In the next chapter they will be the dominating features
of the era.

=3. The New Learning.= The middle and later stages of the
eighteenth century show a minor Renaissance that touched nearly
all Europe. The increase in wealth and comfort coincided with a
general uplifting of the standard of the human intellect. In France
particularly it was well marked, and it took for its sign and seal the
labors of the Encyclopædists and the social amenities of the older
_salons_. Many of the leading English writers, including Gibbon,
Hume, and Sterne, visited Paris, which was the hub of European culture.

In England the new learning took several channels. In literature we
have the revival of the Romantic movement, leading to (_a_) research
into archaic literary forms, such as the ballad, and (_b_) new editions
of the older authors, such as Shakespeare and Chaucer. The publication
of Bishop Percy’s _Reliques_ (1765) which contained some of the oldest
and most beautiful specimens of ballad-literature, is a landmark in the
history of the Romantic movement. Even Pope and Johnson were moved to
edit Shakespeare, though they did it badly. The editions of Theobald
and Warburton were examples of scholarly and enlightened research.

=4. The New Philosophy.= The spirit of the new thinking, which received
its consummate expression in the works of Voltaire, was marked by keen
skepticism and the zest for eager inquiry. Scotland very early took
to it, the leading Scottish philosopher being Hume. It would seem,
perhaps, that this destructive spirit of disbelief would injure the
Romantic ideal, which delights in illusion. But finally the new spirit
actually assisted the Romantic ideal by demolishing and clearing away
heaps of the ancient mental lumber, and so leaving the ground clear for
new and fresher creations.

=5. The Growth of Historical Research.= History appears late in our
literature, for it presupposes a long apprenticeship of research
and meditation. The eighteenth century witnessed the swift rise of
historical literature to a place of great importance. Like so many
other things we have mentioned, it was fostered in France, and it
touched Scotland first. The historical school had a glorious leader in
Gibbon, who was nearly as much at home in the French language as he was
in English.

=6. The New Realism.= At first, as might be expected, the spirit of
inquiry led to the suppression of romance; but it drew within the
circle of literary endeavor all the ranks of mankind. Thus we have the
astonishing development of the novel, which at first concerned itself
with domestic incidents. Fielding and his kind dealt very faithfully
with human life, and often were squalidly immersed in masses of sordid
detail. In the widest sense of the word, however, the novelists were
Romanticists, for in sympathy and freshness of treatment they were
followers of the new ideal.

=7. The Decline of Political Writing.= With the partial decay of
the party spirit the activity in pamphleteering was over; poets and
satirists were no longer the favorites of Prime Ministers. Walpole,
the greatest of contemporary ministers, openly despised the literary
breed, for he did not need them. Hence writers had to depend on their
public, which was not entirely an evil. This caused the rise of the
man of letters, such as Johnson and Goldsmith, who wrote to satisfy a
public demand. Later in the century, when the political temperature
once again approached boiling-point, pamphlets began again to acquire
an importance, which rose to a climax in the works of Junius and Burke.

SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709–84)

=1. His Life.= Johnson has a faithful chronicler in Boswell, whose
_Life of Johnson_ makes us intimate with its subject to a degree rare
in literature. But even the prying zeal of Boswell could not extort
many facts regarding the great man’s early life. Johnson was born at
Lichfield, the son of a bookseller, whose pronounced Tory views he
inherited and steadfastly maintained. From his birth he was afflicted
with a malignant skin-disease (for which he was unsuccessfully
“touched” by Queen Anne) which all through his life affected his
sight and hearing, and caused many of the physical peculiarities that
astonished and amused the friends of his later years. After being
privately educated, he proceeded to Oxford, where he experienced the
miseries and indignities that are the lot of a poor scholar cursed
with a powerful and aspiring mind. Leaving the university, he tried
school-teaching, with no success; married a woman twenty years older
than himself; and then in 1737 went to London and threw himself into
the squalors and allurements of Grub Street.

In his _Essay on Johnson_ Macaulay has given an arresting description
of the miseries endured by the denizens of Grub Street; and in this
case even the natural exaggeration of Macaulay is not quite misplaced.
We know next to nothing regarding the life of Johnson during this early
period. It is certain that it was wretched enough to cause the sturdy
old fellow, in after years, to glance at this period of his life with
a shudder of loathing, and to quench the curiosity of Boswell with
ultra-Johnsonian vehemence. Very slowly he won his way out of the
gutter, fighting every step with bitter tenacity; for, as he puts it in
his poem of _London_, with all the outstanding emphasis of capitals,
SLOW RISES WORTH BY POVERTY OPPRESSED. From the obscure position of a
publisher’s hack he became a poet of some note by the publication of
_London_ (1738), which was noticed by Pope; his _Dictionary_ (1747–55)
advanced his fame; then somewhat incomprehensibly he appears in the
limelight as one of the literary dictators of London, surrounded by a
circle of brilliant men. In 1762 he received a pension from the State,
and the last twenty years of his life were passed in the manner most
acceptable to him: dawdling, visiting, conversing, yet _living_ with a
gigantic vitality that made his fellows wonder.

It is in these latter years that we find him imperishably figured
in the pages of Boswell. All his tricks of humor--his bearishness,
his gruff goodwill, his silent and secret benevolences; his physical
aberrations--his guzzlings, his grunts, his grimaces, his puffings and
wallowings; his puerile superstitions; his deep and beautiful piety;
his Tory prejudices, so often enormously vocal; his masterful and
unsleeping common sense; the devouring immensity of his conversational
powers: we find all these set out in _The Life of Doctor Johnson_.

=2. His Poetry.= He wrote little poetry, and none of it, though it
has much merit, can be called first-class. His first poem, _London_
(1738), written in the heroic couplet, is of great and somber power.
It depicts the vanities and the sins of city life viewed from the
depressing standpoint of an embittered and penurious poet. His only
other longish poem is _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749). The poem, in
imitation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal, transfers to the activities
of mankind in general the gloomy convictions raised ten years earlier
by the spectacle of London. The meter is the same as in _London_, and
there is the same bleak pessimism, but the weight and power of the
emotion, the tremendous conviction and the stern immobility of the
author, give the work a great value. There are many individual lines of
solemn grandeur. The following passage shows all he has to offer to the
young aspirant to literary fame:

When first the college rolls receive his name,
The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame;
Resistless burns the fever of renown,
Caught from the strong contagion of the gown.
O’er Bodley’s dome his future labours spread,
And Bacon’s mansion trembles o’er his head.
Are these thy views? Proceed, illustrious youth,
And Virtue guard thee to the throne of Truth!
Yet, should thy soul indulge the generous heat
Till captive Science yields her last retreat;
Should Reason guide thee with her brightest ray,
And pour on misty Doubt resistless day;
Should no false kindness lure to loose delight,
Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright;
Should tempting Novelty thy cell refrain,
And Sloth effuse her opiate fumes in vain;
Should Beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart,
Nor claim the triumph of a letter’d heart;
Should no disease thy torpid veins invade,
Nor Melancholy’s phantoms haunt thy shade;
Yet hope not life from grief or danger free,
Nor think the doom of man revers’d for thee:
Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes,
And pause awhile from letters, to be wise;
There mark what ills the scholar’s life assail,
Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail.
See nations, slowly wise, and meanly just,
To buried merit raise the tardy bust.
If dreams yet flatter, once again attend,
Hear Lydiat’s life and Galileo’s end.

=3. His Drama.= When he first came to London in 1737 he brought the
manuscript, in part, of _Irene_, a solemn and ponderous tragedy. In
1749, through the heroic exertions of his old pupil David Garrick, who
was then manager of Drury Lane Theatre, it was given a hearing, and had
a run of nine nights. Even Johnson’s best friends had to admit that
it was no success, and it then utterly disappeared, taking with it
Johnson’s sole claim to dramatic merit.

=4. His Prose.= Any claim that Johnson has to be called a first-rate
writer must be based on the merit of his prose; but even his prose
is small in bulk and strangely unsatisfying in kind. His earliest
effort was contributed to Cave’s _Gentleman’s Magazine_, and comprised
Parliamentary reporting, in which he fabricated the speeches of the
legislators, to the great benefit of the legislators. Various hack-work
followed; and then in 1747 he planned, and in eight years produced, his
_Dictionary_. He also wrote _The Rambler_ (1750–52) and _The Idler_
(1758–60), which were periodicals in the manner of _The Spectator_,
without the ease and variety of their original. To these he regularly
contributed essays, which were quite popular in their day, though to
modern notions they would be the reverse of acceptable. They treat
mainly of abstract subjects, and are expressed in an extremely cumbrous
style which soon came to be known as Johnsonese. This type of prose
style is marked by a Latinized vocabulary, long and balanced sentences,
and an abstract mode of expression. The passage given below illustrates
these mannerisms, as well as a kind of elephantine skittishness with
which Johnson was sometimes afflicted:

Another cause of the gaiety and sprightliness of the dwellers
in garrets is probably the increase of that vertiginous motion,
with which we are carried round by the diurnal revolution of
the earth. The power of agitation upon the spirits is well
known; every man has felt his heart lightened in a rapid
vehicle, or on a galloping horse; and nothing is plainer, than
that he who towers to the fifth story is whirled through more
space by every circumrotation than another that grovels upon
the ground-floor. The nations between the tropics are known to
be fiery, inconstant, inventive, and fanciful; because, living
at the utmost length of the earth’s diameter, they are carried
about with more swiftness than those whom nature has placed
nearer to the poles; and therefore, as it becomes a wise man
to struggle with the inconveniences of his country, whenever
celerity and acuteness are requisite, we must actuate our
languor by taking a few turns round the centre in a garret.
_The Rambler_

He wrote _Rasselas_ (1759) in order to pay for his mother’s funeral.
It was meant to be a philosophical novel, but it is really a number of
_Rambler_ essays, written in Johnsonese, and strung together with the
personality of an inquiring young prince called Rasselas. It is hardly
a novel at all; the tale carries little interest, the characters are
rudimentary, and there are many long, dull discussions. In the book,
however, there are abundant shrewd comments and much of Johnson’s
somber clarity of vision.

His later years were almost unproductive of literary work. Yet he kept
himself deeply interested in the events of the day. For instance,
he started a violent quarrel with Macpherson, whose _Ossian_ had
startled the literary world. We give a letter that Johnson wrote to the
Scotsman, which shows that he sometimes wrote as he spoke--crisply,
clearly, and scathingly:

MR JAMES MACPHERSON,
I have received your foolish and impudent letter. Any violence
offered me I shall do my best to repel; and what I cannot do
for myself, the law shall do for me. I hope I shall never be
deterred from detecting what I think a cheat by the menaces of a
ruffian.

What would you have me retract? I thought your book an
imposture: I think it an imposture still. For this opinion I
have given my reasons to the public, which I here dare you to
refute. Your rage I defy. Your abilities, since your Homer, are
not so formidable; and what I hear of your morals inclines me
to pay regard not to what you shall say, but to what you shall
prove. You may print this if you will.
SAM. JOHNSON

His _Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland_ (1774), a travel
book, shows the faculty of narrative, and contains passages of great
skill. His last work of any consequence was _The Lives of the Poets_
(1779–81), a series of prefaces to a collection of poetical works. They
are the best specimens of Johnson’s criticism, which is virile and
sagacious, though it is influenced by the emotions of the classical
school of Pope.

Thus when we come to estimate the value of his work we must arrive at
the conclusion that the towering eminence which he held among really
able men was due rather to the personality of the man than to the
outstanding genius of the writer. Moreover, it is important to observe
that he founded no school and left no literary following. He is the
last of the old generation.

JAMES THOMSON (1700–48)

Thomson can hardly be called a great poet, yet in the history of
literature he is unusual enough to be regarded (chronologically) as a
freak. As such he is important, and it is necessary to give him some
prominence.

=1. His Life.= Born near Kelso, close to some of the loveliest valleys
on the Scottish side of the Border, Thomson early came to London (1725)
to seek a patron and fame. His _Winter_ (1726), though its novelty
embarrassed the critics, brought him recognition and afterward praise;
he obtained the patronage of the great, and assiduously cultivated it;
traveled as a tutor to a noble family; obtained Government places and
emoluments; and passed a happy and prosperous life at his cottage near
Richmond.

=2. His Poetry.= His _Winter_ was afterward quadrupled in size by
including the other three seasons, and became _The Seasons_ (1730). It
is a blank-verse poem, and consists of a long series of descriptive
passages dealing with natural scenes, mainly those with which he was
familiar during his youth on the Scottish Border. There is a great
deal of padding, and the style is often marked by clumsy expressions;
yet on the whole the treatment is exhilarating, full of concentrated
observation and joy in the face of nature. Above all, it is real
nature, obtained from the living sky and air, and not from books; and,
coming when it did, the poem exerted a strong counter-influence against
the artificial school of poetry.

Thomson also wrote _Liberty_ (1736), a gigantic poem in blank verse,
intolerably dull. It had no success. As Johnson says, “The praises of
Liberty were condemned to harbour spiders, and to gather dust.”

In the last year of his life he published _The Castle of Indolence_,
which is even more remarkable than _The Seasons_. The poem is written
in Spenserian stanzas, and in the true Spenserian fashion it gives a
description of a lotus-land into which world-weary souls are invited
to withdraw. The work is imitative, and so cannot claim to be of the
highest class, but it is an imitation of the rarest merit. For languid
suggestiveness, in dulcet and harmonious versification, and for subtly
woven vowel-music it need not shirk comparison with the best of Spenser
himself. We give three verses of this remarkable poem. Coming at such a
period, and expressing as they do the essence of romantic idealism, the
verses are well worth quoting:

Full in the passage of the vale above,
A sable, silent, solemn forest stood,
Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to move,
As Idlesse fancied in her dreaming mood;
And up the hills, on either side, a wood
Of blackening pines, aye waving to and fro,
Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood;
And where this valley winded out below,
The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.

A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was,
Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye;
And of gay castles in the clouds that pass,
For ever flushing round a summer sky:
There eke the soft delights, that witchingly
Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast,
And the calm pleasures, always hovered nigh;
But whate’er smacked of noyance or unrest,
Was far, far off expelled from this delicious nest.

Joined to the prattle of the purling rills,
Were heard the lowing herds along the vale,
And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills,
And vacant shepherds piping in the dale:
And now and then sweet Philomel would wail,
Or stock-doves plain amid the forest deep,
That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale;
And still a coil the grasshopper did keep;
Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep.
_The Castle of Indolence_

Thomson also wrote some dramas, including one bad tragedy, _Sophanisba_
(1729); and in collaboration with Mallet he produced the masque
_Alfred_ (1740), which happens to contain the song _Rule, Britannia_.
The song is usually said to be Thomson’s.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH (1728–74)

As another typical example of the transition poet we take Goldsmith,
whose work was produced a full generation after that of Thomson.

=1. His Life.= Much of Goldsmith’s early life is obscure, and our
knowledge of it rests upon his own unsupported and hardly reliable
evidence. He was born at Pallas, a small village in County Longford,
in Ireland, and he was the son of the poor but admirable curate of
the village. His father, the village, and various local features are
duly registered, and unduly idealized, in the poem _The Deserted
Village_. In 1745 Goldsmith proceeded to Trinity College, Dublin;
graduated, after some misadventures; and then tried various careers
in turn--law, medicine, and playing the flute--at various places,
including Dublin, Edinburgh, Leyden, Venice, and Padua. At the
last-mentioned place he graduated, according to his own account, as
a doctor, and claimed title as such. In truth, a settled career was
beyond Goldsmith’s capacity. He had all the amiable vices of the stage
Irishman: he was shiftless and improvident, but generous and humane;
unstable and pitifully puerile in mind, but with bright, piercing
flashes of humor and insight. During his years of wandering he roved
over Europe, playing the flute for a living; then in 1756 he returned
to England, poor, unknown, but undaunted.

Then followed desperate attempts at making a living. In succession he
was chemist, printer’s reader, usher in a school, and finally (the last
refuge of the literary down-at-heels) publisher’s hack and a denizen
of Grub Street. In time, however, by their sheer merit, his writings
drew upon him the regard of famous persons, including Dr. Johnson and
Charles James Fox, the eminent politician. Once recognition came, it
came with a rush; money and praise poured in; but his feckless habits
kept him poor, and he drifted about in mean London lodgings till his
death in 1774. It was said that he brought his doom upon himself by
prescribing for his own ailment. He left debts for two thousand pounds.
During his latter years he was a member of Johnson’s famous club,
where his artless ways--his bickerings, witticisms, and infantile
vanity--were the cause of the mingled amusement, admiration, and
contempt of his fellow-members.

=2. His Poetry.= Though his poetical production is not large, it
is notable. His first poem, _The Traveller_ (1764), deals with
his wanderings through Europe. The poem, about four hundred lines
in length, is written in the heroic couplet, and is a series of
descriptions and criticisms of the places and peoples of which he
had experience. The descriptions, though often superficial and
half-informed, are fired with the genius of the man, and are arresting
and noteworthy. His critical comments, which require on his part clear
thinking and some knowledge of social and economic facts, are of hardly
any value. Similar drawbacks are seen in his only other poem of any
length, _The Deserted Village_ (1770). In this poem, as he deals with
the memories of his youth, the pathetic note is more freely expressed.
His natural descriptions have charm and genuine feeling; but his
remedies for the agricultural depression of Ireland are innocently
empty of the slightest practical value.

The peculiar humor and pathos of Goldsmith are hard to analyze. Both
emotions arise for simple situations, and are natural and free from
any deep guile, yet they have a certain agreeable tartness of flavor,
and show that Goldsmith was no fool in his observation of mankind.
Often the humor is so dashed with pathos that the combined effect is
attractive to a very high degree. The passage given below illustrates
his artless emotion naturally expressed:

In all my wanderings round this world of care,
In all my griefs--and God has given my share--
I still had hopes my latest hours to crown,
Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;
To husband out life’s taper at the close,
And keep the flame from wasting by repose:
I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,
Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill,--
Around my fire an evening group to draw,
And tell of all I felt, and all I saw;
And as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue,
Pants to the place from whence at first he flew,
I still had hopes, my long vexations past,
Here to return--and die at home at last.
_The Deserted Village_

Goldsmith’s miscellaneous poems are important, for they include some
of his characteristic humorous and pathetic writing. The ballad called
_The Hermit_ is done in the sentimental fashion, the witty _Elegy on
the Death of a Mad Dog_ is suggestive of Swift without Swift’s savage
barb, and the fine lines beginning “When lovely woman stoops to folly”
are among the best he ever wrote.

=3. His Drama.= Goldsmith wrote two prose comedies, both of which
rank high among their class. The first, called _The Good-natured Man_
(1768), is not so good as the second, _She Stoops to Conquer_ (1773).
Each, but especially the latter, is endowed with an ingenious and
lively plot, a caste of excellent characters, and a vivacious and
delightful style. Based on the Restoration comedy, they lack the
Restoration grossness. The second play had an immense popularity, and
even yet it is sometimes staged.

=4. His Prose.= The prose is of astonishing range and volume. Among
his works of fiction we find _The Citizen of the World_ (1759), a
series of imaginary letters from a Chinaman, whose comments on English
society are both simple and shrewd. This series was contributed to _The
Public Ledger_, a popular magazine. He wrote many other essays in the
manner of Addison, almost as well done as those of Addison. His other
important work of fiction is his novel _The Vicar of Wakefield_ (1766),
which is in the first rank of the eighteenth-century novels. The plot
of the novel is simple, but fairly well handled, the characters are
human and attractive, and the book has all the Goldsmith qualities of
humor and pathos.

We give an example of his style. The passage is taken from one of his
essays, in which he sketches the character of a man who, while he
pretends to be hard-hearted, is in reality of a generous disposition.
The humor is typical; it is artless, but it is acute and pervading, and
shows us quite plainly that the writer was by no means the zany that
Boswell (who disliked Goldsmith) desired us to imagine in his _Life
of Johnson_.

He was proceeding in this strain, earnestly to dissuade me from
an imprudence of which I am seldom guilty, when an old man, who
still had about him the remnants of tattered finery, implored
our compassion. He assured us that he was no common beggar,
but forced into the shameful profession, to support a dying
wife, and five hungry children. Being prepossessed against such
falsehoods, his story had not the least influence upon me; but
it was quite otherwise with the man in black; I could see it
visibly operate upon his countenance, and effectually interrupt
his harangue. I could easily perceive that his heart burned to
relieve the five starving children, but he seemed ashamed to
discover his weakness to me. While he thus hesitated between
compassion and pride, I pretended to look another way, and he
seized the opportunity of giving the poor petitioner a piece of
silver, bidding him at the same time, in order that I should
hear, go work for his bread, and not tease passengers with such
impertinent falsehoods for the future.
_The Bee_

In addition, Goldsmith produced a great mass of hack-work, most of
which is worthless as historical and scientific fact, but all of
which is enlightened with the grace of his style and personality.
Some of these works are _An Inquiry into the Present State of
Polite Learning in Europe_ (1759), his first published book;
_The History of England_ (1762); and _The History of Earth and
Animated Nature_, a kind of text-book on natural history, which was
unfinished when he died.

=5. Summary.= Goldsmith’s work is so varied and important that it is
necessary to summarize briefly. The following are its main features:

(_a_) _Variety._ In his projected Latin epitaph on Goldsmith, Johnson
gives prominence to the statement that Goldsmith touched on nearly
every type of writing and adorned them all:

Qui nullum fere scribendi genus
Non tetigit,
Nullum quod tetigit non ornavit.

(_b_) Its _high quality_ is also apparent. In matters of knowledge
Goldsmith was deficient, but in grace, charm, and amiable good-humor he
is in the first flight of our writers.

(_c_) As a _transitional poet_ he is worthy of careful observation.
In the mechanics of poetry--such as meter, rhyme, and rhetorical
devices--he follows the older tradition; but in his broad humanity of
outlook, in his sympathetic treatment of natural scenes, and in the
simplicity of his humor and pathos he is of the coming age.

OTHER TRANSITIONAL POETS

=1. Thomas Gray (1716–71).= Gray was born in London, the son of a
money-scrivener, a kind of lawyer, who was in affluent circumstances.
Gray, however, owed his education largely to the self-denial of his
mother; he was educated at Eton and Cambridge, at the latter of which
places he met Horace Walpole. With Walpole he toured Italy; then,
returning to the university, he took his degree, finally settling down
to a life that was little more than an elegant futility. He was offered
the Laureateship, but refused it (1757); he obtained a professorship
at Cambridge, but he never lectured. He wrote a little, traveled a
little; but he was a man of shrinking and fastidious tastes, unapt for
the rough shocks of the world, and, fortunately for himself, able to
withdraw beyond them.

His first poem was the _Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College_
(1747), which contained gloomy moralizings on the approaching fate
of those “little victims,” the schoolboys. Then, after years of
revision and excision, appeared the famous _Elegy written in a Country
Churchyard_ (1751). This poem was smooth and graceful; it contained
familiar sentiments turned into admirable, quotable phrases; and so,
while it was agreeably familiar, it was fresh enough to be attractive.
Its popularity has been maintained to the present day. His _Pindaric
Odes_ (1757) were unsuccessful, being criticized for their obscurity.
_The Bard_ and _The Progress of Poesy_, the two Pindaric Odes in the
book, certainly require some elucidation, especially to readers not
familiar with history and literature. At the first glance Gray’s
odes are seen to have all the odic splendor of diction; in fact, the
adornment is so thickly applied that it can almost stand alone, like
a robe stiff with gems and gold lace. Yet the poems have energy and
dignity. Johnson, who had a distaste for both the character and the
work of Gray, cavils at the work, saying that it has a strutting
dignity. “He is tall by walking on tiptoe. His art and his struggle are
too visible.”

The prose work of Gray is notable. It consists partly of letters
written during his travels, describing the scenes he visits. In them
he shows vigor of style, a sharp eye and a generous admiration for the
real beauties of nature. His descriptions, such as those of the Lake
District, are quite admirable, and well in advance of the general taste
of his age.

In spite of its slender bulk, Gray’s achievement both in prose and
verse is of great importance. He explored the origins of romance in
the early Norse and Celtic legends; his sympathies with the poor and
oppressed were genuine and emphatically expressed; and his treatment of
nature was a great improvement upon that of his predecessors.

Johnson’s final estimate of Gray is not unfair, and we can leave the
poet with it: “His mind had a large grasp; his curiosity was unlimited,
and his judgment cultivated; he was likely to love much where he loved
at all, but he was fastidious and hard to please.”

=2. William Collins (1721–59).= Collins was born at Chichester,
and was educated at Winchester and Oxford, but all his life he was
weighted with the curse of insanity, and for this reason he had to take
untimely leave of the university. He tried to follow a literary career
in London, but with scant success, being arrested for debt. He was
released by the generosity of his publishers, and a fortunate legacy
relieved him from the worst of his financial terrors. He lapsed into a
mild species of melancholia, finally dying in his native city at the
early age of thirty-eight.

The work of Collins is very small in bulk, and even of this scanty
stock a fair proportion shows only mediocre ability. His _Persian
Eclogues_ (1742) are in the conventional style of Pope, and though
they profess to deal with Persian scenes and characters, the Oriental
setting shows no special information or inspiration. The book that
gives him his place in literature is his _Odes_ (1747), a small octavo
volume of fifty-two pages. The work is a collection of odes to Pity,
Fear, Simplicity, Patriotism, and kindred abstract subjects. Some of
the odes are overweighted with the cumbrous creaking machinery of the
Pindaric; but the best of them, especially the _Ode to Evening_ (done
in unrhymed verse), are instinct with a sweet tenderness, a subdued and
shadowy pathos, and a magical enchantment of phrase. In the same book
two short elegies, one beginning “How sleep the brave” and the other on
James Thomson (“In yonder grave a Druid lies”), are as captivating,
with their misty lights and murmuring echoes of melancholy, as the
best of Keats. In the finest work of Collins, with his eager and
wistful searching, with what Johnson morosely called his “flights of
imagination that pass the bounds of nature,” we are ushered over the
threshold of romance.

=3. William Cowper (1731–1800).= Cowper was born at Great
Berkhampstead, in Hertfordshire, where his father was rector. He was
to have been a barrister, and was actually called to the Bar (1754),
but a great and morbid timidity of disposition, which increased till it
became religious and suicidal mania, hampered him cruelly through life.
Family influence obtained for him a good post on the clerical staff of
the House of Lords, but his extreme shyness made him quite unfit for
this semi-public appointment. The consequent disappointment disordered
his wits, and he attempted suicide, but was fortunately prevented. The
latter part of his life was spent chiefly at Olney, in Buckinghamshire,
where his good friends the Unwins treated him with great kindness and
good sense. His feeling of gratitude for their care, expressed or
implicit in many of his poems and letters, is one of the most touching
features in the literature of the time. This comparatively happy
state of affairs did not last till the end, for the years immediately
preceding his death were much clouded with extreme mental and bodily
affliction.

Cowper’s poems were produced late in life, but in bulk the work is
large. It is curiously mixed and attractive in its nature. His _Poems_
(1782) is his first attempt at authorship. The book contains little
that is noteworthy. The bulk of it is taken up with a collection of set
pieces in heroic couplets, quite in the usual manner, on such subjects
as _The Progress of Error, Truth, Hope, and Charity_. At the very end
of the volume a few miscellaneous short pieces are more encouraging
as novelties. One of them is the well-known poem containing the
reflections of Alexander Selkirk (“I am monarch of all I survey”). His
next work is _The Task_ (1785), a long poem in blank verse, dealing
with simple and familiar themes and containing many fine descriptions
of country scenes. In places the style is marked by the prevailing
artificial tricks, and as a whole the poem is seldom inspired with any
deep or passionate feeling; but his observation is acute and humane, it
includes the homeliest detail within its kindly scope, and he gives us
real nature, like Thomson in _The Seasons_. At the end of this volume
the ballad of _John Gilpin_ finds a place. It is an excellent example
of Cowper’s prim but sprightly humor, an extraordinary gift for a
man of his morbid temperament. Other short poems were added to later
editions of his first volume. These include the _Epitaph on a Hare_,
curiously and touchingly pathetic; lines _On the Receipt of my Mother’s
Picture_, which reveal only too painfully the suppressed convulsions of
grief and longing that were stirred within him by memories of the past;
and _The Castaway_, written in a lucid interval just before the end,
and sounding like the wail of a damned spirit. The poem gives a tragic
finality to his life. It describes the doom of a poor wretch swept
overboard in a storm, and concludes:

No poet wept him; but the page
Of narrative sincere,
That tells his name, his worth, his age,
Is wet with Anson’s tear;
And tears by bards or heroes shed
Alike immortalise the dead.

I therefore purpose not, or dream,
Descanting on his fate,
To give the melancholy theme
A more enduring date:
But misery still delights to trace
Its semblance in another’s case.

No voice divine the storm allay’d,
No light propitious shone,
When, snatch’d from all effectual aid,
We perished, each alone:
But I beneath a rougher sea,
And whelm’d in deeper gulfs than he.

Cowper’s letters, private epistles addressed to various personal
friends, are among the most delightful of their kind. They show the man
at his best--almost jovial in a delicate fashion, keenly observant,
and with a genuine gift for narrative. The style is so clear that the
disposition of the writer shines through it with unruffled benignity.

Though Cowper comes late among the transition poets, he does not travel
very far on the road to novelty. His mind is over-timorous, and he
lacks robustness of temper. But in his feeling for nature, in the ease
and versatility of his poetical work, in his undoubted lyrical gift
(rarely expressed), his work marks an advance far beyond that of the
classicists.

=4. George Crabbe (1754–1832).= Crabbe comes very late among the
poets now under review, but in method he is largely of the eighteenth
century. He was born in Suffolk, at Aldeburgh, where his father had
been a schoolmaster and a collector of customs. He was apprenticed to
a surgeon, but later left his native town to seek fame as an author in
London (1780). He had little success at first, but gradually attracted
attention. He fixed on a settled career by taking holy orders, and
obtained the patronage of several influential men. Ultimately he
obtained the valuable living of Trowbridge (1814), where he died as
late as 1832, only a few months before Sir Walter Scott.

His chief poetical works are _The Library_ (1781), _The Village_
(1783), which made his name as a poet, _The Borough_ (1810), and
_Tales in Verse_ (1812). The poems in their succession show little
development, resembling each other closely both in subject and style.
They are collections of tales, told in heroic couplets with much
sympathy and a good deal of pathetic power, dealing with the lives
of simple countryfolk such as Crabbe encountered in his own parish.
There is a large amount of strong natural description, though it is
subsidiary to the human interest in the stories themselves. Crabbe
has often been criticized for being too gloomy and pessimistic; he is
pessimistic in the sense that he is stubbornly alive to the miseries
of the poor, and he is at a loss how to relieve them. His work was
warmly recognized by Wordsworth and other thinkers who had the welfare
of the poor at heart. Crabbe, however, cannot be classed as a great
poet; he lacks the supreme poetic gift of transforming even squalor and
affliction into things of splendor and appeal; but he is sympathetic,
sincere, and an acute observer of human nature.

=5. Mark Akenside (1721–70).= Akenside was born at Newcastle,
studied medicine at Edinburgh, and graduated at Leyden in 1744. He
started practice at Northampton, but did not succeed. Later he had
more success in London. In the capital he took to political writing,
in which he was moderately proficient, and he obtained a pension as
a reward. He was a well-known character, and is said to have been
caricatured by Smollett in _Peregrine Pickle_.

His best political poem is his _Epistle to Curio_ (1744), which
contains some brilliant invective against Pulteney. His best-known book
is _The Pleasures of the Imagination_ (1744), a long and rambling
blank-verse poem. The style is somewhat Miltonic in its energy and its
turn of phrase, but it is deficient in the Miltonic genius. The poem
has some loud but rather fine descriptive passages, especially those
dealing with his native Tyne, for the beauties of which he shows a
laudable enthusiasm.

=6. Christopher Smart (1722–71).= Smart was born in Kent, and was
educated at Cambridge, where he graduated. He was a man of unbalanced
mind, which, leading him into many extravagances, brought him finally
to a madhouse and a miserable death in a debtor’s prison.

The poem connected with his name is _The Song to David_ (1763), which
is said to have been partly written on the walls of the madhouse
in which he was confined. The poem, consisting of nearly a hundred
six-line stanzas, is a wild, rhapsodical effusion, full of extravagance
and incoherence, but in places containing bursts of tremendous poetic
power. The following stanzas, the last in the poem, give an idea of
these poetical bomb-shells:

Glorious the sun in mid career;
Glorious the assembled fires appear;
Glorious the comet’s train:
Glorious the trumpet and alarm;
Glorious the Almighty’s stretched-out arm;
Glorious the enraptured main:

Glorious the northern lights astream;
Glorious the song, when God’s the theme;
Glorious the thunder’s roar:
Glorious hosanna from the den;
Glorious the catholic amen;
Glorious the martyr’s gore:

Glorious--more glorious is the crown
Of Him that brought salvation down,
By meekness called thy Son;
Thou that stupendous truth believed,
And now the matchless deed’s achieved,
Determined, Dared, and Done.

=7. William Shenstone (1714–63).= Born at the Leasowes, in
Worcestershire, Shenstone was educated at Oxford. After leaving the
university he retired to his estate, which he beautified in the fashion
of the time. He was a man of an agreeable nature, but was shy and
retiring, and spent nearly all his life in the country.

His published works consist chiefly of odes, elegies, and what he
called _Levities, or Pieces of Humour_ (often dreary enough), and _The
Schoolmistress_ (1742). His poems are largely pastoral, but they are by
no means the artificial pastoral of Pope. He studies nature himself,
and does not derive his notions from books. In this matter he resembles
Cowper. _The Schoolmistress_, which by a notable advance is written in
the Spenserian stanza, deals in rather a sentimental fashion with the
teacher in his first school; it is sympathetic in treatment, and in
style is an interesting example of the transition.

=8. Charles Churchill (1731–64).= Churchill was educated at Westminster
School and at Cambridge, took orders (1756), and obtained a curacy.
When he was about twenty-seven years old he suddenly started on a wild
course of conduct, abandoned his curacy, took to politics and hack
journalism, and to drinking and debauchery. He died at Boulogne at the
age of thirty-three.

He lives in literature as a satirical poet, and the best of his work
is in _The Rosciad_ (1761), a bitter attack on the chief political and
social figures of the time. The poem, which is written in the Dryden
heroic couplet, was greeted as the work of a new Dryden, but it has
little of that poet’s superb elevation and contempt. It is vigorous and
acute, but it is too often cheap and nasty. It had much popularity,
but when the topical need for it was over it had no permanent value.
Churchill continued to satirize the age in a wild indiscriminate
fashion in poems called _Night_ (1761), _The Ghost_ (1763), and _The
Prophecy of Famine_ (1763).

=9. Robert Blair (1699–1746).= Blair was born at Edinburgh, and became
a clergyman in East Lothian. The poem that brought him his transitory
reputation was _The Grave_ (1743). It is a long blank-verse poem of
meditation on man’s mortality. It does not make cheerful reading, and
the sentiments are quite ordinary. It has, however, a certain strength
and dignity, and the versification shows skill and some degree of
freshness. The poem is reminiscent of Young’s _Night Thoughts_.

ROBERT BURNS (1759–96)

In this section we shall deal with those poets who wrote in the middle
and later years of the eighteenth century, and who abandoned the
classical tradition. In their generation they came too early to be
definitely included in the school of Wordsworth and Coleridge, but in
their work they are often as romantically inclined as any of their
great successors. We begin with Burns, one of the latest, and probably
the greatest, of Wordsworth’s poetical forbears. With the appearance of
Burns we can say that the day of Romanticism is come. There had been
false dawns and deceptive premonitions, but with him we have, in the
words of Swinburne,

A song too loud for the lark,
A light too strong for a star.

=1. His Life.= He was born in a small clay-built cottage, the
work of his father’s hands, in the district of Kyle, in Ayrshire. His
father, a small farmer, was a man of an unbending disposition, and
the boy had to toil with the rest of the family to wring subsistence
from the soil. He had not much formal education, and all his life he
tried spasmodically to improve it; but it was mainly the force of his
own natural ability that permitted him to absorb the moderate amount
of learning he did acquire. As he grew older he showed himself to be
the possessor of a powerful and lively mind, which was often afflicted
with spasms of acute mental depression. The audacity of his temper
soon brought him into extravagances of conduct which were visited by
the censure and punishment of the rigid Scottish Church. For Burns’s
own sake it is unfortunate that his memory has been pursued with an
infatuation of hero-worship that seeks to extenuate and even to deny
facts that are grave and indisputable. One can only say that his chief
weaknesses--drink and dissipation--were largely the faults of his time.
He was no worse than many other men of his age; but his poetic gifts
proclaimed and perhaps exaggerated his vices, of which he repented when
he was sober and unwisely boasted when he was otherwise.

His life was hard and bitter; his different attempts at farming and at
other occupations met with no success, and he determined to seek his
fortune in the West Indies (1786). In the nick of time he learned that
the small volume of verse that he had recently issued at Kilmarnock was
attracting much attention, and he was persuaded to remain in Scotland
and discover what fame had in store for him. The reputation of his
poems rose with prodigious rapidity, and within a year there was a
demand for an Edinburgh edition. He was in Edinburgh in 1787, where he
became a nine days’ wonder to the lion-hunting society of the capital
city. He then obtained a small post in the Excise, and, taking a farm
near Dumfries, married and essayed to lead a regular life. He found
this impossible, for fame brought added temptation. His farming was a
failure, and the income from his poems and from his post in the Excise
was insufficient to keep him decently. At the age of thirty-seven he
died at Dumfries, of premature old age.

=2. His Poetry.= His sole poetical work of any magnitude is his volume
of _Poems_ (1786), which he edited five times during his lifetime, with
numerous additions and corrections on each occasion. At different times
he contributed to _The Scots Musical Museum_ and to Thomson’s _Select
Scottish Melodies_. After the poet’s death his literary editor, Dr.
Currie, published (1800) a large number of additional pieces, along
with a considerable amount of correspondence.

We have thus one tale, _Tam o’ Shanter_, which was included in the
third edition of the poems, that of 1793; one longish descriptive
piece, _The Cotter’s Saturday Night_; more than two hundred songs,
ranging in quality from very good to middling; and a great number of
short epistles, epigrams, elegies, and other types of miscellaneous
verse.

=3. Features of his Poetry.= The poetry is of such a miscellaneous
character, and its composition was often so haphazard in the matter of
time, that it is almost impossible to give a detailed chronology of it.
We shall therefore take it in the mass, and attempt the difficult task
of giving an analysis of its various features.

(_a_) The best work of Burns was almost entirely _lyrical_ in motive.
He is one of the rare examples, like Shelley, of the born singer who
can give to human emotion a precious and imperishable utterance. He
was essentially the inspired egoist: what interested him was vivid and
quickening; what lay outside his knowledge and experience was without
life or flavor. He thought of reviving the Scottish drama, but, even
if he had entered on the project, it is doubtful if he would have
succeeded, for he lacked the faculty of putting himself completely in
another man’s place. His narrative gift, as it is revealed in _Tam o’
Shanter_, becomes fused with the heat of some lyrical emotion (in this
case that of drunken jollity), and then it shines with a clear flame.
But with the departure of the lyrical emotion the narrative impulse
ends as well.

(_b_) While keeping within the limits of the lyric he traverses
an _immense range_ of emotion and experience. The feelings he
describes are those of the Scottish peasant, but the genius of the poet
makes them germane to every member of the human race; he discovers
the touch of nature that makes the whole world kin. Here we have the
“passion and apathy, and glory and shame” that are the inspiration of
the lyrical poet, and we have them in rich abundance.

(_c_) His _humor and pathos_ are as copious and varied as his
subject-matter. His wit can be rollicking to coarseness, as it is in
_The Jolly Beggars_; and there are no poems richer in bacchanalian
flavor than _Willie brewed a Peck o’ Maut_ and _Tam o’ Shanter_. He can
run to the other extreme of emotion, and be graceful and sentimental,
as in _Afton Water_ and _My Luve is like a Red, Red Rose_. We have
beautiful homely songs in _John Anderson, my Jo_ and _O’ a’ the Airts_;
and he can be bitter and scornful in such poems as _The Unco Guid_ and
_The Holy Fair_. His pathos ranges from the piercing cry of _Ae Fond
Kiss_, through the pensive pessimism of _Ye Banks and Braes_, to the
tempered melancholy of _My Heart’s in the Hielands_. The facility of
this precious lyrical gift became a positive weakness, for he wrote too
freely, and much of his songwriting is of mediocre quality.

We give brief extracts to illustrate these features of his poetry. The
first shows him in his mood of vinous elation; in the second he is
acutely depressed and almost maudlin; the third for pure loveliness is
almost unexcelled.

(1) O, Willie brewed a peck o’ maut,
And Rob and Allan cam’ to see;
Three blither hearts, that lee-lang night,
Ye wad na find in Christendie.

_Chorus_

We are na fou, we’re nae that fou,
But just a drappie in our ee;
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And aye we’ll taste the barley bree.

Here are we met, three merry boys,
Three merry boys, I trow, are we;
And mony a night we’ve merry been,
And mony mae we hope to be.

It is the moon--I ken her horn,
That’s blinkin’ in the lift sae hie;
She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But, by my sooth, she’ll wait a wee!

(2) Thou ling’ring star, with less’ning ray,
That lov’st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher’st in the day
My Mary from my soul was torn.
O Mary! dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
Seëst thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast?

* * * * *

Still o’er these scenes my mem’ry wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care!
Time but th’ impression stronger makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary, dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
Seëst thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast?
_To Mary in Heaven_

(3) O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O, my luve is like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonny lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only luve!
And fare thee well a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.

(_d_) The poet’s _political and religious views_ have been given
prominence by his admirers, but they scarcely deserve it. His politics,
as expressed in such poems as _A Man’s a Man for a’ That_, are merely
the natural utterances of a strong and sensitive mind deeply alive to
the degradation of his native people. His religious views, in so far as
they are colored by his unhappy personal experiences with the Scottish
Church, are of value solely as the inspiration of capital satirical
verse, but in _The Cotter’s Saturday Night_ Burns pays a spontaneous
and beautiful tribute to the piety of the Scottish peasant. The
following extract from _Holy Willie’s Prayer_ sufficiently reveals his
personal bias:

Lord, bless Thy chosen in this place,
For here Thou hast a chosen race:
But God confound their stubborn face,
And blast their name,
Wha bring Thy elders to disgrace,
And public shame.

Lord, mind Gaw’n Hamilton’s deserts,
He drinks, and swears, and plays at cartes,
Yet has sae mony takin’ arts,
Wi’ great and sma’,
Frae God’s ain priests the people’s hearts
He steals awa’.

But, Lord, remember me and mine,
Wi’ mercies temp’ral and divine,
That I for gear and grace may shine,
Excelled by nane,
And a’ the glory shall be Thine.
Amen, amen!

(_e_) His _style_ is noteworthy for the curious double tendency that is
typical of the transition. When he writes in the “correct” manner he
has all the petty vices of the early school. The opening lines of his
_Address to Edinburgh_ are:

Edina! Scotia’s darling seat!
All hail thy palaces and tow’rs,
Where once beneath a monarch’s feet
Sat Legislation’s sov’ran pow’rs!

Here we see a paltry classicism and a metrical scrupulousness
(leadingto the mutilation of words like “pow’rs”) that were far below
Burns’s notice. The latter vice will be seen even in such poems as _To
Mary in Heaven_, quoted above. But when he shakes himself free from
such trifling arts his style is full and strong, and as redolent of the
soil as his own mountain daisy.

(_f_) As the _national poet_ of Scotland his position is unique. He is
first, and the rest nowhere. His rod, like Aaron’s, has swallowed up
the rods of the other Scottish poets; so that in the popular fancy he
is the author of any striking Scottish song, such as _Annie Laurie_ or
_Auld Robin Gray_. His dominating position is due to three factors:

(1) He has a matchless gift of catching traditional airs and wedding
them to words of simple and searching beauty. It is almost impossible
to think of _Auld Lang Syne_ or _Scots wha hae_ or _Green grow the
Rashes, O!_ without their respective melodies being inevitably
associated with them. And these tunes were born in the blood of the
Scottish peasant.

(2) He rejoices in descriptions of Scottish scenery and customs. _The
Cotter’s Saturday Night_ is packed with such features, and all through
his work are glimpses of typical Scottish scenes. The opening stanzas
of _A Winter Night_ are often quoted to show his descriptive power:

When biting Boreas, fell and doure,
Sharp shivers thro’ the leafless bow’r;
When Phœbus gives a short-liv’d glow’r,
Far south the lift,
Dim-dark’ning thro’ the flaky show’r,
Or whirling drift:

Ae night the storm the steeples rocked,
Poor Labour sweet in sleep was locked,
While burns, wi’ snawy wreeths up-choked,
Wild-eddying swirl,
Or thro’ the mining outlet bocked,[168]
Down headlong hurl.

(3) Lastly, he came just at the time when the Scottish tongue, as a
separate literary medium, was fast vanishing. The Edinburgh society
that prided itself on being the equal of the literary society of London
was soon to pass away with the greatest of Edinburgh writers. Burns
captured the dialect of his fellows, and gave it permanence.

OTHER POETS OF THE NEW SCHOOL

=1. James Macpherson (1738–96).= This writer was born at Kingussie,
in the county of Inverness, and was educated for the Church. He never
became a regular minister, for at the age of twenty he was producing
bad poetry, and soon after he definitely adopted a literary career. He
traveled in the Highlands of Scotland and abroad, settled in London
(1764), and meddled in the politics of the time. Then he entered
Parliament, realized a handsome fortune, and died in his native parish.

After producing some worthless verse in the conventional fashion, in
1760 he issued something very different. It was called _Fragments of
Ancient Poetry translated from the Gaelic_. The work received a large
share of attention, and a subscription was raised to allow him to
travel in the Highlands to glean further specimens of native poetry.
The fruits of this were seen in _Fingal_ (1762) and _Temora_ (1763).
Macpherson declared that the books were his translations of the poems
of an ancient Celtic bard called Ossian. Immediately a violent dispute
broke out, many people (including Johnson) alleging that the books were
the original compositions of Macpherson himself. The truth is that he
gave substance to a large mass of misty Gaelic tradition, and cast the
stories into his peculiar prose style.

The controversy hardly matters to us here. What matters is that the
tales deal largely with the romantic adventures of a mythical hero
called Fingal. They include striking descriptions of wild nature,
and they are cast in a rhythmic and melodious prose that is meant to
reproduce the original Gaelic poetical measure. As an essay in the
Romantic method these works are of very high value. (See p. 349.)

=2. Thomas Chatterton (1752–70).= Chatterton was born at Bristol,
and was apprenticed to an attorney. At the age of eighteen he went to
London to seek his fortune as a poet. Almost at once he lapsed into
penury, and, being too proud to beg, poisoned himself with arsenic. He
was eighteen years old.

The brevity and pathos of Chatterton’s career have invested it with a
fame peculiar in our literature. He is held up as the martyr of genius,
sacrificed by the callousness of the public. His fate, however, was
largely due to his own vanity and recklessness, and his genius has
perhaps been overrated. In 1768, while still at Bristol, he issued
a collection of poems which seemed archaic in style and spelling.
These, he said, he had found in an ancient chest lodged in a church in
Bristol; and he further stated that most of them had been written by a
monk of the fifteenth century, by name Thomas Rowley. The collection
received the name of _The Rowley Poems_, and includes several ballads,
one of which is _The Battle of Hastings_, and some descriptive and
lyrical pieces, such as _Songs to Ælla_. A slight knowledge of Middle
English reveals that they are forgeries thinly disguised with antique
spelling and phraseology; but, especially after their author’s death,
they gained much currency, and had some influence on their time. There
is much rubbish in the poems, but in detached passages there is real
beauty, along with a marvelous precocity of thought.

=3. William Blake (1757–1827).= Blake was a Londoner, being born the
son of a City hosier. At the age of ten he was an artist; at the age of
twelve he was a poet; and thereafter his father apprenticed him to an
engraver. All his life Blake saw visions and dreamed dreams, hovering
on the brink of insanity; and his mental peculiarities are abundantly
revealed in the two arts that he made his own. His engravings and his
poems, conceived on wild and fantastic lines, kept him fully occupied
all his life, though they brought him neither money nor fame. But
his desires were easily satisfied, and he died poor and unknown, but
cheerful and serene, in the city of his birth.

His chief poetical works are _Poetical Sketches_ (1783), _Songs
of Innocence_ (1789), and _Songs of Experience_ (1794). They are
extraordinary compositions, full of unearthly visions, charming
simplicity, and baffling obscurity. His genius is undoubted, but it is
wayward and fitful, the sport of his unbalanced mind. His astonishing
lines on the tiger are well known, and are a good specimen of his
poetical gifts:

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

* * * * *

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

* * * * *

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

=4. Robert Fergusson (1750–74).= Fergusson was born in Edinburgh, and
received his education at the university of that city, but soon fell
into loose and disreputable habits. He contributed much to the local
press, and acquired some reputation as a poet of the vernacular. His
irregular habits led to the madhouse, in which he died at the early age
of twenty-four.

Fergusson is chiefly notable as the forerunner of Burns, who was
generous in his praise of the earlier poet. His best poems are short
descriptive pieces dealing with Scottish life, such as _The King’s
Birthday_, _To the Tron Kirk_, and _The Farmer’s Ingle_. This last poem
perhaps suggested Burns’s _Cotter’s Saturday Night_. Fergusson gives
clear and accurate descriptions, and his use of the vernacular Scots
tongue is vigorous and natural, thus providing Burns with a model for
his best style. (See p. 346.)

SAMUEL RICHARDSON (1689–1761)

=1. His Life.= Richardson was born in Derbyshire, the son of a
joiner, by whom he was apprenticed to a London printer. Richardson
was an industrious youth, and in the course of time rose high in the
pursuit of his occupation. He became a master-printer, produced the
journals of the House of Commons, and became printer to the King. He
was a man of retiring and almost effeminate habits, but was generous
and well liked.

=2. His Novels.= Richardson’s first attempts at writing fiction
began at the age of thirteen, when he was the confidant of three
illiterate young women, for whom he wrote love-letters. This practice
afterward stood him in good stead. He was over fifty years old before
he printed a novel of his own, called _Pamela_ (1740). The book,
which takes the form of a series of fictitious letters, deals with
the fortunes of Pamela, a poor and virtuous maid of low degree, who
marries and afterward reforms her wicked master. The work was instantly
successful, exhausting five editions during the first year of its
issue. The characters, especially the chief female character, slowly
but accurately fabricated during the gradual evolution of the simple
plot, were new to the readers of the time, and mark a great step
forward in the history of the English novel. Richardson’s next novel,
which was also constructed in the form of letters, was _Clarissa
Harlowe_ (1749). This treats of characters higher in the social
scale, with indifferent success, and the end is made tragical. The
heroine is a young lady of rank and fortune who is persecuted by a
villain called Lovelace, and who dies finally of a broken heart.
His third and last novel, also in letter-form, was _Sir Charles
Grandison_ (1753), dealing chiefly with persons still higher in
the social world. Richardson contemplated calling the book _A Good
Man_, for he intended the hero to be the perfection of the manly
virtues. But Sir Charles is too good, and succeeds only in being
tedious and unreal. The character of the social _milieu_ in which
the action is cast also weighs heavily upon Richardson, with the
result that this book, which he intended to be his masterpiece, is the
hollowest of the three.

=3. Features of his Novels.= Richardson’s works are largely the
reflection of the man himself, and, in spite of their faults and
limitations, are of immense importance in the development of the novel.

(_a_) Their most prominent feature is their _immense length_. In the
last two works this is most noticeable.

(_b_) In spite of the great length of the books, the _plots_ have
little complexity; the length is due to an enormous accumulation of
detail, both of character and incident, which is ingenious, but clogs
the course of the story. He is really an adept in the minute analysis
of motive and emotion, which gradually evolves a character that is
entire and convincing, and he fills in his sketch with a multitude of
tiny strokes.

(_c_) His novels convey the general impression of a certain kind
of bloodlessness--a literary anemia--that is due to several causes.
His themes are those of love-making; they are handled with a great
parade of morality, but have nevertheless a simpering prudishness that
conveys a stealthy suggestion of immorality. Then his good people are
laboriously virtuous; his villains are stuffily vile; he is devoid
of humor; the action is too frequently indoors; the sentiment is
protracted and sickly. After a spell of reading such work one is glad
to escape into the open air.

(_d_) Yet his merits are very real, and the cumbrous machinery
of the letter-series assists him. His character-drawing is among the
best of his time, and is still among the most remarkable in English;
he is specially happy in his treatment of feminine characters; his use
of dialogue shows an advance, though it might be even more frequently
employed. He gives a good start to the modern novel, though it is still
a long distance from maturity.

HENRY FIELDING (1707–54)

=1. His Life.= A cadet of an ancient family, Fielding was born in
Somersetshire, was educated at Eton, and studied law at Leyden. Lack
of funds stopped his legal studies for a time; he took to writing
plays for a living, but the plays were of little merit; then, having
married, he resumed his studies and was called to the Bar. After some
time in practice he was appointed (1749) Bow Street magistrate, a post
which brought him a small income (“of the dirtiest money on earth,”
as he said) and much hard work. His magisterial duties, however, had
their compensations, for they gave him a close view of many types of
human criminality which was of much use to him in his novels. Fielding
himself was no Puritan, and his own excesses helped to undermine his
constitution. In the hope that it would improve his health, he took a
voyage to Portugal (1754); but he died some months after landing, and
was buried at Lisbon.

=2. His Novels.= In 1742 appeared _Joseph Andrews_, which begins in
a loud guffaw of laughter--not unkind, but not very delicate--at the
namby-pamby Pamela of Richardson. In the story Joseph Andrews, the
hero, is a footman, and the brother of Pamela. Along with a poor and
simple curate called Abraham Adams he survives numerous ridiculous
adventures. In a short time Fielding forgets about the burlesque,
becomes interested in his own story, and we then see a novel of a
new and powerful kind. From the very beginning we get the Fielding
touch: the complete rejection of the letter-method; the bustle and
sweep of the tale; the broad and vivacious humor; the genial and
half-contemptuous insight into human nature; and the forcible and
pithy prose style. His next works were _A Journey from this World to
the Next_ (1743) and _Jonathan Wild the Great_ (1743). _Jonathan Wild_
is the biography of the famous thief and highwayman who was hanged at
Newgate. The story is one long ironical comment upon human action. In
it Fielding deliberately turns morality inside out, calling good by the
name of evil, and evil by the name of good. In the hands of a lesser
writer such a method would at length become teasing and troublesome;
but Fielding, through the intensity of his ironic insight, gives us new
and piercing glimpses of the ruffian’s mentality. We give an extract to
illustrate Fielding’s ironic power, which in several respects resembles
that of Swift:

In Wild everything was truly great, almost without alloy, as his
imperfections (for surely some small ones he had) were only such
as served to denominate him a human creature, of which kind none
ever arrived at consummate excellence. Indeed, while greatness
consists in power, pride, insolence, and doing mischief to
mankind--to speak out--while a great man and a great rogue are
synonymous terms, so long shall Wild stand unrivalled on the
pinnacle of GREATNESS. Nor must we omit here, as the
finishing of his character, what indeed ought to be remembered
on his tomb or his statue, the conformity above mentioned of his
death to his life; and that Jonathan Wild the Great, after all
his mighty exploits was, what so few GREAT men can
accomplish--hanged by the neck till he was dead.
_Jonathan Wild the Great_

His greatest novel, _Tom Jones_ (1749), completes and perfects his
achievement. In the book we have all his previous virtues (and some of
his weaknesses), with the addition of greater symmetry of plot, clearer
and steadier vision into human life and human frailty, and a broader
and more thickly peopled stage. His last novel, _Amelia_ (1751), had as
the original of the heroine Fielding’s first wife, and the character
of the erring husband Booth is based upon that of Fielding himself.
This novel, though possessing power and interest, lacks the spontaneity
of its great predecessor. The last work he produced was his _Voyage
to Lisbon_, a diary written during his last journey. It possesses a
painful interest, for it reveals a strong and patient mind, heavy with
bodily affliction, yet still lively in its perception of human affairs.

=3. Features of his Novels.= (_a_) Like Richardson, Fielding had a
genius for sounding the emotions of the human heart, but his methods
are different. Richardson pores over human weaknesses with puckered
brow and with many a sigh; Fielding looks, laughs, and passes on. He
does not seek to analyze or over-refine; and so his characters possess
a breadth, humanity, and attraction denied to Richardson’s. Even a
sneaking rogue like Blifil in _Tom Jones_ has a Shakespearian roundness
of contour that keeps him from being quite revolting.

(_b_) Fielding is breezy, bustling, and energetic in his _narrative_.
He shows us life on the highway, in the cottage, and among the streets
of London. Coleridge truly said that to take up Fielding after
Richardson is like emerging from the sick-room on to the open lawn.

(_c_) Fielding’s _humor_ is boisterous and broad to the point of
coarseness--a kind of over-fed jollity. But it is frank and open, with
none of the stealthy suggestiveness of Richardson. In dealing with this
aspect of Fielding’s work (an aspect frequently repulsive to the more
squeamish taste of the moderns) we must make allowance for the fashion
of his time, which united a frankness of incident with a curious
decorum of speech. He had also in him a freakishness of wit, the excess
of his grosser mood, which led to fantastic interludes and digressions
in his novels. For instance, in describing the numerous scuffles among
his characters, he frequently adopts an elaborate mock-heroic style
not quite in accordance with later taste. Fielding’s comic characters,
such as Partridge, the humble companion of Tom Jones, are numerous,
diversified, and exceedingly likeable and lively.

(_d_) A word must be given to his _style_. He breaks away from the
mannered, artificial style of the earlier novelists, and gives us the
good “hodden grey” of his own period. His style has a slight touch of
archaism in the use of words like “hath,” but otherwise it is fresh and
clear. His use of dialogue and conversation is of a similar nature.

We add an extract to illustrate Fielding’s easy style, his almost
haphazard cast of sentence, and his use of natural dialogue:

As soon as the play, which was _Hamlet, Prince of Denmark_,
began, Partridge was all attention, nor did he break silence
till the entrance of the ghost; upon which he asked Jones:
“What man that was in the strange dress; something,” said he,
“like what I have seen in a picture. Sure it’s not armour, is
it?” Jones answered: “That is the ghost.” To which Partridge
replied, with a smile: “Persuade me to that, sir, if you can.
Though I can’t say I ever actually saw a ghost in my life, yet
I am certain I should know one if I saw him better than that
comes to. No, no, sir; ghosts don’t appear in such dresses as
that neither.” In this mistake, which caused much laughter in
the neighbourhood of Partridge, he was suffered to continue till
the scene between the ghost and Hamlet, when Partridge gave
that credit to Mr Garrick which he had denied to Jones, and
fell into so violent a trembling that his knees knocked against
each other. Jones asked him what was the matter, and whether
he was afraid of the warrior upon the stage. “O la! sir,” said
he, “I perceive now it is what you told me. I am not afraid of
anything, for I know it is but a play; and if it was really a
ghost, it could do one no harm at such a distance, and in so
much company; and yet if I was frightened, I am not the only
person.” “Why, who,” cries Jones; “dost thou take me to be such
a coward here besides thyself?” “Nay, you may call me coward if
you will; but if that little man there upon the stage is not
frightened, I never saw any man frightened in my life. Ay, ay;
go along with you! Ay, to be sure! Who’s fool, then? Will you?
Who ever saw such foolhardiness? Whatever happens, it is good
enough for you. Oh! here he is again! No further! No, you’ve
gone far enough already; further than I’d have gone for all the
king’s dominions!” Jones offered to speak, but Partridge cried:
“Hush, hush, dear sir; don’t you hear him?” And during the
whole speech of the ghost, he sat with his eyes fixed partly on
the ghost, and partly on Hamlet, and with his mouth open; the
same passions, which succeeded each other in Hamlet, succeeding
likewise in him.
_Tom Jones_

OTHER NOVELISTS

=1. Tobias Smollett (1721–71).= Smollett was a Scotsman, being
born in Dumbartonshire. Though he came of a good family, from an early
age he had to work for a living. He was apprenticed to a surgeon, and,
becoming a surgeon’s mate on board a man-of-war, saw some fighting and
much of the world. He thus stored up abundant raw material for the
novels that were to follow. When he published _Roderick Random_
(1748) the book was so successful that he settled in London; and the
remainder of his life is mainly the chronicle of his works.

_Roderick Random_ is an example of the “picaresque” novel: the hero is
a roving dog, of little honesty and considerable roguery; he traverses
many lands, undergoing many tricks of fortune, both good and bad. The
story lacks symmetry, but it is nearly always lively, though frequently
coarse, and the minor characters, such as the seaman Tom Bowling, are
of considerable interest. His other novels are _Peregrine Pickle_
(1751), _Ferdinand_, _Count Fathom_ (1753), _Sir Launcelot Greaves_
(1762), and _The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker_ (1771).

The later books follow the plan of the first with some fidelity. Most
of the characters are disreputable; the plots are as a rule formless
narratives of travel and adventure; and a coarse and brutal humor is
present all through. Smollett, however, brings variety into his novels
by the endless shifting of the scenes, which cover nearly all the
globe, by his wide knowledge and acute perception of local manners and
customs, and by his use of a plain and vigorous narrative style. His
characters, especially his female characters, are crudely managed, but
his naval men--comprising Commodore Trunnion, Lieutenant Hatchway, and
Boatswain Pipes--form quite a considerable gallery of figures. Smollett
is the first of our novelists to introduce the naval type.

=2. Laurence Sterne (1713–68).= Sterne was born at Clonmel, was
educated at Cambridge, took orders, and obtained a living in Yorkshire
(1740). His habits were decidedly unclerical, even though we judge them
by the easy standard of the time. He temporarily left his living for
London to publish _Tristram Shandy_ (1759). Then he toured abroad,
returned to England to write his second novel, and died in London while
visiting the city on business connected with the production of his book.

His two novels are _Tristram Shandy_ (1759–67) and _A Sentimental
Journey_ (1768). The first made him famous, and rather turned his
head, confirming him in some of his worst mannerisms. Both novels are
bundles of episodes and digressions, often irritatingly prolonged. The
characters are elaborately handled, caressed, and bewept. Perhaps the
most famous of them is “my uncle Toby,” with his Corporal Trim. Both
books are saturated with a sentiment that modern taste can only call
sloppiness. This sentiment, however, does not prevent a sniggering
indecency from appearing in the narrative. The style is distinguished
by many antics, such as exclamation, inversion, and unfinished
sentences. These mannerisms have long made Sterne distasteful to all
but highly trained palates, but no one can deny him great ingenuity
and industry, which can gradually unswathe characters and incidents
from their trappings of talk and digression, an acute perception of
character, and an immense opinion of his own importance.

The following is an exciting incident that occurred just after the
birth of Tristram Shandy. Susannah, the serving-maid, rouses Mr. Shandy
with the news that the child is in a fit. Observe the staccato dialogue
and the ingenious variation of the paragraph. The humor is typical of
Sterne.

“Bless me, sir,” said Susannah, “the child’s in a fit”--“And
where’s Mr Yorick?”--“Never where he should be,” said Susannah,
“but his curate’s in the dressing-room, with the child upon his
arm, waiting for the name--and my mistress bid me run as fast as
I could to know, as Captain Shandy is the godfather, whether it
should not be called after him.”

“Were one sure,” said my father to himself, scratching his
eyebrow, “that the child was expiring, one might as well
compliment my brother Toby as not--and ’t would be a pity in
such a case, to throw away so great a name as Trismegistus upon
him--But he may recover.”

“No, no”--said my father to Susannah, “I’ll get up”--“There’s
no time,” cried Susannah, “the child’s as black as my shoe.”
“Trismegistus,” said my father--“But stay--thou art a leaky
vessel, Susannah,” added my father; “can’st thou carry
Trismegistus in thy head the length of the gallery without
scattering?”--“Can I?” cried Susannah, shutting the door in a
huff--“If she can, I’ll be shot,” said my father, bouncing out
of bed in the dark, and groping for his breeches.

Susannah ran with all speed along the gallery.

My father made all possible speed to find his breeches.

=3. Horace Walpole (1717–97).= Walpole was the son of Sir Robert
Walpole, the famous Whig minister. He touched upon several kinds of
literature, his letters being among the best of their kind. His one
novel, _The Castle of Otranto_ (1764), is of importance, for it was
the first of the productions of a large school (sometimes called
the “terror school”) of novelists who dealt with the grisly and
supernatural as their subject. Walpole’s novel, which he published
almost furtively, saying, like Chatterton, that the work was of
medieval origin, described a ghostly castle, in which we have
walking skeletons, pictures that move out of their frames, and other
blood-curdling incidents. The ghostly machinery is often cumbrous, but
the work is creditably done, and as a return to the romantic elements
of mystery and fear the book is noteworthy.

=4. Other Terror Novelists.= (_a_) =William Beckford (1759–1844).=
The one novel now associated with Beckford’s name is _Vathek_ (1784).
Beckford, who was a man of immense wealth and crazy habits, drew
largely upon _The Arabian Nights_ for material for the book. The
central figure of the novel is a colossal creature, something like
a vampire in disposition, who preys upon mankind and finally meets
his doom with suitable impressiveness. Beckford had a wild, almost
staggering, magnificence of imagination, and his story, though crude
and violent in places, does not lack a certain reality.

(_b_) =Mrs. Ann Radcliffe (1764–1823).= This lady was the most popular
of the terror novelists, and published quite a large number of books
that followed a fairly regular plan. Among such were her _A Sicilian
Romance_ (1790), _The Romance of the Forest_ (1791), and the most
popular of them all, _The Mysteries of Udolpho_ (1794). Her stories
took on almost a uniform plot, involving mysterious manuscripts,
haunted castles, clanking chains, and cloaked and saturnine strangers.
At the end of all the horrors Mrs. Radcliffe rather spoils the effect
by giving away the secrets of them, and revealing the fact that the
terrors were only illusions after all. Nowadays the novels appear tame,
but they showed the way to a large number of other writers, for they
were fresh to the public of their time.

(_c_) =Matthew Gregory Lewis (1775–1818).= Lewis is perhaps the crudest
of the terror school, and only one book of his, _The Monk_ (1795), is
worth recording. Lewis, who is lavish with his horrors, does not try to
explain them. His imagination is grimmer and fiercer than that of any
of the other writers of the same class, and his book is probably the
“creepiest” of its kind.

=5. Henry Mackenzie (1745–1831).= This novelist is the most
considerable of the sentimental school, who took Sterne for their
master. His best-known work is _The Man of Feeling_ (1771), in which
maudlin sentiment has free play. To his contemporaries Mackenzie was
known as “the Man of Feeling.”

=6. Frances Burney (1752–1840)=, whose married name was =Madame
d’Arblay=, is rather an important figure, for she exercised a
considerable influence on her age. Her diaries and letters are
clever and informative, and her two best novels, _Evelina_ (1778)
and _Cecilia_ (1782), are lively and acute representations of
fashionable society. Johnson, with his heavy jocularity, called her a
“character-monger,” meaning that her chief effects were obtained in the
portraying of character. In the construction of _Evelina_ she returns
to the clumsy letter-method of Richardson, but she has a wit of an
agreeably acid flavor. She is no mean predecessor of Jane Austen. (See
p. 354.)

EDWARD GIBBON (1737–94)

=1. His Life.= Gibbon, who was born at Putney, was a sickly child,
and, according to his own grateful acknowledgment, he owed his
life to the exertions of his aunt, Catherine Porten. He had little
regular schooling, but from his early years he was an eager reader of
history. At the age of fifteen he entered Magdalen College, Oxford,
an institution of which he always spoke afterward with aversion and
contempt. “To the University of Oxford,” he writes, “I acknowledge
no obligation, and she will as readily renounce me as a son, as I am
willing to disclaim her as a mother.” His private historical studies
led him to become a Roman Catholic when he was sixteen years old, to
the great horror of his father, and resulted in his expulsion from the
university. His father packed him off to Lausanne, in Switzerland, in
the hope that the Protestant atmosphere of the place would wean him
from his new faith.

From his stay in Lausanne began Gibbon’s long and affectionate
acquaintance with French language and learning, two sources from
which he was to draw the chief inspiration for his masterpiece. He
returned to England in 1758, and had a brief and mixed experience in
the Militia; afterward he toured the Continent, visiting the famous
_salons_ of Paris and seeing Rome. Returning to England after some
years, he entered Parliament (1774), hoping for political preferment.
In this he was only moderately successful, for he was a lukewarm and
rather cynical politician. He returned to Lausanne, where he completed
his great work in June 1787. He finally came back to England, and died
in lodgings in London.

=2. His Works.= His first projected book, _A History of Switzerland_
(1770), was never finished. Then appeared the first volume of _The
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (1776). At nearly regular
intervals of two years each of the other five volumes was produced, the
last appearing in 1788. His _Autobiography_, which contains valuable
material concerning his life, is his only other work of any importance,
and it is written with all his usual elegance and suave, ironic humor.

To most judges _The Decline and Fall_ ranks as one of the greatest
of historical works, and is a worthy example of what a history ought
to be. In time it covers more than a thousand years, and in scope it
includes all the nations of Europe. It sketches the events leading
up to the dissolution of the Roman Empire, and traces the rise of
the states and nations that previously formed the component parts of
the Roman world, concluding with the fall of Constantinople in the
fifteenth century. For this great task Gibbon’s knowledge is adequate;
recent specialized research has rarely been able to pick holes in his
narrative. Moreover, he had also that infallible sense of proportion
which is the mark of the born historian: he knows what and when to
omit, to condense, or give in full. In consequence his gigantic
narrative has the balance and the beauty that result from a single
and indivisible _mind_ directing it, and suggests in plan and
workmanship a vast cathedral.

Exception has been taken to Gibbon’s humor, and with some reason.
His skeptical bias, the product of his studies in French, pervades
the entire work. This mental attitude need be no disadvantage to the
historian, for it leads him to scrutinize his evidence very severely.
But in the case of Gibbon it is troublesome at times, especially when
he deals with the rise of the Christian faith. In the chapters devoted
to the early Christians he sets the facts down solemnly, but all the
time he is subtly and sneeringly ironical, a characteristic that
aroused the great indignation of Johnson. At many other points when
recording disagreeable incidents Gibbon reveals a sniggering nastiness
of humor unworthy of so great a writer.

His prose style, deliberately cultivated as being most suited to
his subject, is peculiar to himself. It is lordly and commanding,
with a full, free, and majestic rhythm. Admirably appropriate to its
gigantic subject, the style has nevertheless some weaknesses. Though
it never flags, and rarely stumbles, the very perfection of it tends
to monotony, for it lacks ease and variety. The extract shows the
elaborate construction of the sentences and the rolling character of
the rhythm:

Three days Mahomet and his companion were concealed in the
cave of Thor, at the distance of a league from Mecca; and in
the close of each evening, they received from the son and
daughter of Abubeker a secret supply of intelligence and food.
The diligence of the Koreish explored every haunt in the
neighbourhood of the city; they arrived at the entrance of the
cavern; but the providential deceit of a spider’s web and a
pigeon’s nest is supposed to convince them that the place was
solitary and inviolate. “We are only two,” said the trembling
Abubeker. “There is a third,” replied the prophet; “it is
God himself.” No sooner was the pursuit abated, than the two
fugitives issued from the rock, and mounted their camels; on
the road to Medina they were overtaken by the emissaries of the
Koreish; they redeemed themselves with prayers and promises from
their hands. In this eventful moment the lance of an Arab might
have changed the history of the world. The flight of the prophet
from Mecca to Medina has fixed the memorable era of the Hegira,
which, at the end of twelve centuries, still discriminates the
lunar years of the Mahometan nations.

OTHER HISTORIANS

=1. David Hume (1711–76).= Born and educated at Edinburgh, Hume first
distinguished himself as a philosopher, publishing the _Treatise on
Human Nature_ (1739–40) and _Essays, Moral, Political, and Literary_
(1741). Later he turned to historical work, writing _The History of
England_, in six volumes, which appeared between the years 1754 and
1762. At first the work was coldly received, for it traversed the
popular Whig notions, but in time the book raised Hume to the position
of the leading historian of the day. He died in the same year that
witnessed the issue of the first volume of _The Decline and Fall_.

As a historian Hume makes no pretense at profound research, so that his
work has little permanent value as history. He possesses a clear and
logical mind and a swift and brilliant narrative style. In the history
of literature his work is of importance as being the first of the
popular and literary histories of the country.

=2. William Robertson (1721–93).= Robertson also was a Scot, being
born in the country of Midlothian. After leaving the university he
entered the Scottish Church. He had an active and successful career
as a historian, producing among other works _The History of Scotland_
(1759), _The History of Charles V_ (1769), and _The History of America_
(1777).

The range of Robertson’s subject-matter shows that he could have been
no deep student of any particular epoch of history. He aimed at a
plain and businesslike narrative of events, taking the average man’s
view of the facts he chronicled, and, with perhaps the exception of
his pronounced bias in favor of Mary Queen of Scots, he is never
conspicuously personal in his opinions.

=3. James Boswell (1740–95)= was born in Edinburgh of a good
Scottish family. He studied law, but his chief delight was the pursuit
of great men, whose acquaintance he greedily cultivated.

He lives in literature by his supreme effort, _The Life of Samuel
Johnson_ (1791), which ranks as one of the best biographies in
existence. Boswell sought and obtained Johnson’s friendship; endured
any humiliation for the sake of improving it; and for twenty-one
years, by means of an astonishing amount of patience, pertinacity, and
sheer thick-skinned imperviousness to slight and insult, obtained an
intimate personal knowledge of Johnson’s life and habits. Boswell has
suffered at the hands of Macaulay, who has pictured him as being a
knavish buffoon. No doubt he had glaring faults; but on the other hand
he had great native shrewdness, a vigorous memory, a methodical and
tireless industry which made him note down and preserve many details
of priceless value, and a natural genius for seizing upon points of
supreme literary importance. All these gifts combine to make his book a
masterpiece.

The following extract illustrates Boswell’s acute perception, his eye
for detail, and his limpid and vivacious style:

That the most minute singularities which belonged to him, and
made very observable parts of his appearance and manner, may not
be omitted, it is requisite to mention, that while talking or
even musing as he sat in his chair, he commonly held his head to
one side towards his right shoulder, and shook it in a tremulous
manner, moving his body backwards and forwards, and rubbing his
left knee in the same direction, with the palm of his hand. In
the intervals of articulating he made various sounds with his
mouth, sometimes as if ruminating, or what is called chewing
the cud, sometimes giving half a whistle, sometimes making his
tongue play backwards from the roof of his mouth, as if clucking
like a hen, and sometimes protruding it against his upper gums
in front, as if pronouncing quickly under his breath, _too,
too, too_: all this accompanied sometimes with a thoughtful
look, but more frequently with a smile. Generally when he had
concluded a period, in the course of a dispute, by which time he
was a good deal exhausted by violence and vociferation, he used
to blow out his breath like a whale. This I suppose was a relief
to his lungs; and seemed in him to be a contemptuous mode of
expression, as if he had made the arguments of his opponent fly
like chaff before the wind.
_The Life of Samuel Johnson._

EDMUND BURKE (1729–97)

Burke shares with Gibbon the place of the greatest prose stylist of
the period now under review. He is, moreover, recognized as one of the
masters of English prose.

=1. His Life.= Born in Dublin, Burke was educated at Trinity College,
Dublin, and then removed to London to study law in the Middle Temple.
He soon showed that his real bent lay toward politics and literature,
and it was not long before he published some books that attracted a
good deal of attention and admitted him into the famous Johnson Club.
In politics he attached himself to the Whig party, obtained some
small appointments, and became member for Wendover (1765). Both as an
orator and as a pamphleteer he was a powerful advocate for his party,
and very soon his splendid gifts won for him a leading place in the
House of Commons. His style of oratory, often labored, rhetorical, and
theatrical, exposed him to much censure and ridicule, and his speeches
were frequently prolonged to the point of dullness. But at its best his
eloquence was powerful in attack and magnificent in appeal, rising to
the very summit of the orator’s art. When the Whigs attained to office
in 1783 Burke was appointed Paymaster of the Forces. He was leader in
the prosecution of Warren Hastings, making a speech of immense length
and power (1788). On the outbreak of the French Revolution in 1789 he
left his party and attacked the revolutionaries with all his great
energy. In 1794, broken in health, he retired from Parliament, but
continued to publish pamphlets till his death in 1797.

=2. His Works.= The considerable sum of Burke’s achievement can
for the sake of convenience be divided into two groups: his purely
philosophical writings, and his political pamphlets and speeches.

(_a_) His philosophical writings, which comprise the smaller division
of his product, were composed in the earlier portion of his career. _A
Vindication of Natural Society_ (1756) is a parody of the style and
ideas of Bolingbroke, and, though it possesses much ingenuity, it has
not much importance as an original work. _A Philosophical Inquiry into
the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful_ (1756) is his
most considerable attempt at philosophy. As philosophy the book is only
middling, for its theory and many of its examples are questionable, but
it has the sumptuous dressing of Burke’s language and style.

(_b_) His political works are by far his most substantial claim to
fame. In variety, breadth of view, and illuminating power of vision
they are unsurpassed in the language. The chief of the many works are
_Thoughts on the Present Discontents_ (1770), a resounding attack
on the Tory Government then in power; _Reflections on the French
Revolution_ (1790), which marked his departure from his old party and
his fierce challenge to the extreme revolutionary policy; _Letter to
a Noble Lord_ (1796); and _Letters on a Regicide Peace_ (1797). In
addition we have much purely oratorical work, such as the notable
speeches on the American question and his great philippic against
Warren Hastings.

=3. Features of his Work.= Though the occasion of Burke’s political
writings has vanished, the books can still be read with profit and
pleasure. Burke was the practical politician, applying to the problems
of his day the light of a clear and forcible intelligence; yet, above
this, he had an almost supreme faculty for discerning the eternal
principles lying behind the shifting and troubled scenes of his time.
He could distill from the muddy liquid of contemporary party strife the
clear wine of wisdom, and so deduce ideas of unshakable permanence.
Thus pages of his disquisition, scores of his dicta, can still be
applied almost without qualification to the problems of any civilized
state and time. A good deal of the writing is of an inferior quality;
it can be flashy, labored, and dull; but as a whole it possesses the
foundations of sanity and wisdom.

We have in addition the permanent attraction of Burke’s style. His
prose is marked by all the devices of the orator: much repetition,
careful arrangement and balance of parts, copious use of the rhetorical
figures (such as metaphor, simile, epigram, and exclamation),
variation of the sentence, homely illustrations, and a swift but steady
rhythm. When he overdoes these devices he is garish and vulgar, but
for the most part his style impresses the reader with an effect of
elevation, strength, and noble perspicuity.

In the extract now given, note that the actual vocabulary does not
abound in long Latinized words as in the case of Johnsonese. The ornate
effect is produced rather by the elevation of the sentiment and the
sweeping cadence of the style.

On the scheme of this barbarous philosophy, which is the
offspring of cold hearts and muddy understandings, and which
is as void of solid wisdom as it is destitute of all taste and
elegance, laws are to be supported only by their own terrors,
and by the concern which each individual may find in them from
his own private speculations, or can spare to them from his
own private interests. In the groves of _their_ Academy,
at the end of every vista, you see nothing but the gallows!
Nothing is left which engages the affections on the part of the
commonwealth. On the principles of this mechanic philosophy, our
institutions can never be embodied, if I may use the expression,
in persons, so as to create in us love, veneration, admiration,
or attachment. But that sort of reason which banishes the
affections is incapable of filling their place. These public
affections, combined with manners, are required sometimes as
supplements, sometimes as correctives, always as aids, to law.
The precept given by a wise man, as well as a great critic, for
the construction of poems is equally true as to states: “Non
satis est pulchra esse poemata, dulcia sunto.” There ought to
be a system of manners in every nation which a well-formed mind
would be disposed to relish. To make us love our country, our
country ought to be lovely.
_Reflections on the French Revolution_

OTHER PROSE-WRITERS

=1. Adam Smith (1723–90).= This author was born at Kirkcaldy, in
Fifeshire, and completed his education at Glasgow and Oxford. He was
appointed professor at Glasgow University, whence he issued his famous
book _The Wealth of Nations_ (1776).

In the history of economics the work is epoch-making, for it lays the
foundations of modern economic theory. In the history of literature it
is noteworthy because it is another example of that spirit of research
and inquiry that was abroad at this time, playing havoc with literary
convention as well as with many other ideas. The book is also a worthy
example of the use of a plain businesslike style in the development of
theories of far-reaching importance.

=2. William Paley (1743–1805)= may be taken as the typical theological
writer of the age. He was a brilliant Cambridge scholar, and obtained
high offices in the Church, finally becoming an archdeacon. His chief
books are _Moral and Political Philosophy_ (1785), _Horæ Paulinæ_
(1790), and _A View of the Evidences of Christianity_ (1794). His style
is lively and attractive, and he possessed much vigor of character and
intellect.

=3. The Earl of Chesterfield (1694–1773)= was of the famous Stanhope
family. In his day he was an illustrious wit and man of fashion, and
held high political offices. He is an example of the aristocratic
amateur in literature, and he wrote elegant articles for the
fashionable journals, such as _The World_.

His _Letters to his Son_, which were published shortly after his death
in 1773, caused a great flutter. They appeared diabolically cynical
and immoral, and as such they were denounced by Johnson. No doubt they
affect the tired cynicism of the man of the world, but that does not
prevent them from being keen and clever, and underneath their bored
indifference to morality they reveal a shrewd judgment of men and
manners. (See p. 342.)

=4. William Godwin (1756–1836)= is a prominent example of the
revolutionary man of letters of the time. He was the son of a
dissenting minister, and intended to follow the same profession, but
very soon drifted away from it. He then devoted himself to the pursuit
of letters, in which he developed his extreme views on religion,
politics, sociology, and other important themes. His _Political
Justice_ (1793) was deeply tinged with revolutionary ideas, and had a
great effect on many young and ardent spirits of the age, including
Shelley. His novel _Caleb Williams_ (1794) was a dressing of the same
theories in the garb of fiction. Godwin is worth notice because he
reveals the spread of the revolutionary doctrines that were so strongly
opposed by Burke.

=5. Gilbert White (1720–93)= deserves mention as the first naturalist
who cast his observations into genuine literary form. He was born
at Selborne, Hampshire, studied at Oxford, and took holy orders. He
settled at his native place, and published _The Natural History of
Selborne_ (1789). The book is a series of genuine letters written to
correspondents who are interested in the natural history of the place.
White reveals much closeness and sympathy of observation, and he can
command a sweet and readable style. He shows the “return to nature” in
a practical and praiseworthy form. (See p. 355.)

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

This, being an age of transition, is an age of unrest, of advance and
retreat, of half-lights and dubious victories. But if we bring together
the different types of literature, and mark how they have developed
during the period, we can see that the trend of the age is quite clear.

=1. Poetry.= In 1740 we have Pope still alive and powerful, and Johnson
an aspiring junior; in 1800, with Burns and Blake, Romanticism has
unquestionably arrived. This great change came gradually, but its
stages can be observed with some precision.

(_a_) The first symptom of the coming change was the _decline of the
heroic couplet_, the dominance of which passed away with its greatest
exponent, Pope. Toward the middle of the century a large number of
other poetical forms can be observed creeping back into favor.

(_b_) The change was first seen in the free use of the _Pindaric ode_
in the works of Gray and Collins, which appeared in the middle years of
the century. The Pindaric ode is a useful medium for the transitional
stage, for it has the double advantage of being “classical” and of
being free from the more formal rules of couplet and stanza. Gray’s
_The Bard_ (1757) and Collins’s ode _The Passions_ (1747) are among the
best of the type.

(_c_) Another omen was the revival of the _ballad_, which was due to
renewed interest in the older kinds of literature. The revived species,
as seen in Goldsmith’s _The Hermit_ and Cowper’s _John Gilpin_, has not
the grimness and crude narrative force of the genuine ballad, but it
is lively and often humorous. Another ballad-writer was =Thomas Percy
(1729–1811)=, who, in addition to collecting the _Reliques_ (1765),
composed ballads of his own, such as _The Friar of Orders Grey_.
Chatterton’s _Bristowe Tragedy_ has much of the fire and somberness of
the old ballads.

(_d_) The _descriptive and narrative poems_ begin with the
old-fashioned _London_ (1738) of Johnson; the development is seen in
Goldsmith’s _Traveller_ (1764) and _Deserted Village_ (1770), in which
the heroic couplet is quickened and transformed by a real sympathy
for nature and the poor; the advance is carried still further by the
blank-verse poems of Cowper (_The Task_) and Crabbe (_The Village_)
and the Spenserian stanzas of minor poets like Shenstone (_The
Schoolmistress_).

(_e_) Finally there is the rise of the _lyric_. The Pindarics of
Collins and Gray are lyrics in starch and buckram; the works of
Chatterton, Smart, Macpherson, Cowper, and, lastly, of Burns and Blake
show in order the lyrical spirit struggling with its bonds, shaking
itself free, and finally soaring in triumph. Romanticism has arrived.

=2. Drama.= In this period nothing is more remarkable than the poverty
of its dramatic literature. Of this no real explanation can be given.
The age was simply not a dramatic one; for the plays that the age
produced, with the exceptions of a few notable examples of comedy, are
hardly worth noticing.

Tragedy comes off worst of all. The sole tragedy hitherto mentioned in
this chapter is Johnson’s _Irene_ (1749), which only the reputation of
its author has preserved from complete oblivion. A tragedy which had a
great vogue was _Douglas_ (1754), by =John Home (1722–1808)=. It is now
almost forgotten. =Joanna Baillie (1762–1851)= produced some historical
blank-verse tragedies, such as _Count Basil_ (1798) and _De Montfort_
(1798). Her plays make fairly interesting reading, and some of their
admirers, including Scott, said that she was Shakespeare revived.

Among the comedies we have the sprightly plays of Goldsmith, already
noticed, Fielding’s _Tom Thumb_, and the work of =Richard Brinsley
Sheridan (1751–1816)=.

Sheridan was an Irishman, and became a prominent wit and politician.
His wit is admirably revealed in his three brilliant prose comedies.
_The Rivals_ (1775), _The School for Scandal_ (1777), and _The
Critic_ (1779). The three all resemble the best of the Restoration
comedies, without the immorality that taints their models. The plots
are ingenious and effective, though they depend largely on a stagy
complexity of intrigue; the characters, among whom are the immortal
figures of Mrs. Malaprop, Bob Acres, and Sir Fretful Plagiary, are
stage types, but they are struck off with daring skill; and the
dialogue is often a succession of brilliant repartees. The worst that
can be said against the plays is that they are artificial, and that the
very cleverness of them becomes fatiguing. With the work of Sheridan
the artificial comedy reaches its climax.

=3. Prose.= The prose product of the period is bulky, varied, and
of great importance. The importance of it is clear enough when we
recollect that it includes, among many other things, possibly the best
novel in the language (_Tom Jones_), the best history (_The Decline and
Fall_), and the best biography (_The Life of Doctor Johnson_).

(_a_) _The Rise of the Novel._ There are two main classes of fictional
prose narratives, namely, the tale or romance and the novel. The
distinction between the two need not be drawn too fine, for there is a
large amount of prose narrative that can fall into either group; but,
broadly speaking, we may say that the tale or romance depends for its
chief interest on incident and adventure, whereas the novel depends
more on the display of character and motive. In addition, the story
(or _plot_, or _fable_) of the novel tends to be more complicated than
that of the tale, and it often leads to what were called by the older
writers “revolutions and discoveries”--that is, unexpected developments
in the narrative, finishing with an explanation that is called the
_dénouement_. The tale, moreover, can be separated from the romance:
the plot of the tale is commonly matter-of-fact, while that of the
romance is often wonderful and fantastic.

There is little doubt that the modern novel has its roots in the
medieval romances, such as _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_ and
those dealing with the legends of King Arthur. Another source of the
novel were the collections of ballads telling of the adventures of
popular heroes of the type of Robin Hood. These romances were written
in verse; they were supplied with stock characters, like the wandering
knight, the distressed damsel, and the wicked wizard; they had stock
incidents, connected with enchanted castles, fiery dragons, and
perilous ambushes; and their story rambled on almost interminably. They
were necessary to satisfy the human craving for fiction, and they were
often fiction of a picturesque and lively kind.

The age of Elizabeth saw the rise of the prose romance. We have
examples in the _Euphues_ (1579) of Lyly and the _Arcadia_ of Sidney.
As fiction these tales are weighed down with their fantastic prose
styles, and with their common desire to expound a moral lesson. Their
characters are rudimentary, and there is little attempt at a plot and
love-theme. Yet they represent an advance, for they are fiction.

They are interesting from another viewpoint. They show us that curious
diffidence that was to be a drag on the production of the novel even as
late as the time of Scott. Authors were shy of being novelists for two
main reasons: first, there was thought to be something almost immoral
in the writing of fiction, as it was but the glorification of a pack
of lies; and, secondly, the liking for fiction was considered to be the
craving of diseased or immature intellects, and so the production of it
was unworthy of reasonable men. Thus if a man felt impelled to write
fiction he had to conceal the narrative with some moral or allegorical
dressing.

A new type of embryo novel began to appear at the end of the sixteenth
century, and, becoming very popular during the seventeenth, retained
its popularity till the days of Fielding and Smollett.

This class is known as the _picaresque_ novel, a name derived from the
Spanish word _picaron_, which means a wandering rogue. As the name
implies, it is of Spanish origin. For hero it takes a rascal who leads
a wandering life, and has many adventures, most of them of a scandalous
kind. The hero is the sole link between the different incidents, and
there is much digression and the interposing of other short narratives.
In Spain the picaresque type originated in parodies of the old
romances, and of such parodies the greatest is the _Don Quixote_ (1604)
of Cervantes. In France the type became common, the most famous example
of it being the _Gil Blas_ (1735) of Le Sage.

In England the picaresque novel had an early start in _Jack Wilton,
or The Unfortunate Traveller_, by Nash, (1567–1601), whose work often
suggests that of Defoe. Nash’s work is crude, but it has vigor and some
wit. A later effort in the same kind is _The English Rogue_ (1665), by
Richard Head. The book is gross and scandalous to an extreme degree,
but it has energy, and, as it takes the hero to many places on the
globe, the reader obtains interesting glimpses of life in foreign parts.

Another type that came into favor was the heroic romance. This
was based on the similar French romances of Mademoiselle Scudéri
(1607–1701) and others. This class of fiction was the elegant variety
of the grosser picaresque novel, and it was much duller. The hero of
a heroic romance was usually of high degree, and he underwent a long
series of romantic adventures, many of them supernatural. There was
much love-making, involving long speeches containing “noble sentiments,
elegantly expressed.” The length of these romances was enormous; the
_Grand Cyrus_ of Mademoiselle Scudéri ran to ten large volumes. Popular
English specimens were Ford’s _Parismus, Prince of Bohemia_ (1598)
and _Parthenissa_ (1654), by Roger Boyle. It is worth noting that the
artificial heroic romance collapsed about the end of the seventeenth
century, whereas the picaresque class, which in spite of its grave
faults was a human and interesting type of fiction, survived and
influenced the novel in later centuries.

By the end of the seventeenth century the novel is dimly taking shape.
=Aphra Behn (1640–89)= wrote stories that had some claims to plot,
character-drawing, and dialogue. Her _Orinooko, or The Royal Slave_
shows some power in describing the persecution of a noble negro, a
kind of Othello, at the hands of brutal white men. The work of Bunyan
(1628–88) was forced to be allegorical, for the Puritans, of whom he
was one, abhorred the idea of writing fiction, which they regarded as
gilded lies. Yet _The Pilgrim’s Progress_ abounds in qualities that go
to make a first-rate novel: a strong and smoothly working plot, troops
of human and diverse characters, impressive descriptive passages, and
simple dialogue dramatically sound. His other works, notably _The Life
and Death of Mr. Badman_, are also very close to the novel proper.

In the eighteenth century we see another development in the Coverley
papers (1711) of Steele and Addison. There is little plot in this
essay-series, and only a rudimentary love-theme; but the allegorical
fabric is gone, there is much entertaining character-sketching, and
the spice of delicate humor. We should note also that we have here the
beginnings of the society and domestic novel, for the papers deal with
ordinary people and incidents.

The genuine novel is very near indeed in the works of Defoe
(1659–1731). His novels are of the picaresque type in the case of
_Captain Singleton_ (1720), _Moll Flanders_ (1722), and _Colonel Jack_
(1722). They have many of the faults of their kind: the characters
are weakly drawn, the plots are shaky and sprawling, and much of the
incident is indecorous; yet they have a virile and sustaining interest
that is most apparent in the best parts of _Robinson Crusoe_ (1719).

Then, toward the middle of the century, came the swift and abundant
blossoming of the novel, raising the type to the rank of one of the
major species of literature. The time was ripe for it. The drama,
which had helped to satisfy the natural human desire for a story,
was moribund, and something had to take its place. Here we can only
summarize very shortly the work of the novelists already discussed in
this chapter. Richardson’s _Pamela_ (1740) had the requisites of plot,
characters, and dialogue, and these of high merit; but the diffidence
of the early fiction-writer possessed him, and he had to conceal
the novel-method under the clumsy disguise of a series of letters.
Fielding’s robust common sense had no such scruples, and his _Tom
Jones_ (1749) shows us the novel in its maturity. Later novelists could
only modify and improve in detail; with Fielding the principles of the
novel were established.

The modifications of Fielding’s immediate successors can be briefly
noticed. Smollett reverted to the picaresque manner, but he added the
professional sailor to fiction, and gave it types of Scottish character
that Scott was to improve upon; Sterne made the novel sentimental and
fantastic, and founded a sentimental school; the Radcliffe novels,
popular toward the end of the century, made fiction terrific; while
in _The Vicar of Wakefield_ (1766) Goldsmith showed us what the novel
can do in respect of a simple yet effective plot, human and lovable
personages, dialogue of a dramatic kind, and a tender and graceful
humor. Johnson’s _Rasselas_ (1759), which reverted to the methods
of _Euphues_, was pure reaction, but it possesses an interest as a
reversion to a long-dead type.

(_b_) _The Rise of the Historical Work._ The development of history
came late, but almost necessarily so. The two main requirements of
the serious historian are knowledge of his subject and maturity of
judgment. Before the year 1750 no great historical work had appeared
in any modern language. Raleigh’s _History of the World_ (1614) is not
a real history; it is only the fruit of the mental exertions of an
imprisoned man who seeks relaxation. Clarendon’s _History of the Great
Rebellion_, which was not published till 1704, is largely the record of
his own personal experiences and opinions. He makes little attempt at
an impartial and considered judgment or at placing the rebellion in its
proper perspective.

The general advance in knowledge and the research into national affairs
which were the features of eighteenth-century culture quickly brought
the study of history into prominence. France led the way, and the
Scots, traditionally allied to the French, were the first in Britain
to feel the influence. Hence we have Hume’s _History of England_
(1754) and the works of Robertson. These books excelled in ease and
sense, but the knowledge displayed in them was not yet sufficient to
make them epoch-making. Gibbon’s _Decline and Fall_ (1776) in
knowledge, in method, and in literary style is as near perfection as
human frailty can attain. Thus within twenty or thirty years the art
of writing history in English advanced from a state of tutelage to
complete development.

(_c_) _Letter-writing._ The habit of writing letters became very
popular during the eighteenth century, and flourished till well
into the nineteenth, when the institution of the penny post made
letter-writing a convenience and not an art. It was this popularity of
the letter that helped Richardson’s _Pamela_ into public favor.

A favorite form of the letter was a long communication, sometimes
written from abroad, discussing some topic of general interest. Such
a letter was semi-public in nature, and was meant to be handed round
a circle of acquaintances. Frequently a series of letters was bound
into book-form. Collections of this kind were the letters of Lady
Mary Wortley Montagu (1689–1762), written to Pope and others from
Constantinople, and of Thomas Gray, from the Lake District and the
Continent. Sometimes the letters contain comments on political and
social matters, as in the famous compositions of Lord Chesterfield to
his son, which we have already noticed. We give an extract from one of
Chesterfield’s letters, for it is valuable as an example of witty and
polished prose. A letter of the type of Chesterfield’s is really an
essay which is given a slightly epistolary form.

LONDON, _May 27, 1753_
... You are now but nineteen, an age at which most of your
countrymen are illiberally getting drunk in Port at the
University. You have greatly got the start of them in learning;
and, if you can equally get the start of them in the knowledge
and manners of the world, you may be very sure of outrunning
them in Court and Parliament, as you set out so much earlier
than they. They generally begin but to see the world at
one-and-twenty; you will by that age have seen all Europe.
They set out upon their travels unlicked cubs; and in their
travels they only lick one another, for they seldom go into
any other company. They know nothing but the English world,
and the worst part of that too, and generally very little of
any but the English language; and they come home, at three or
four-and-twenty, refined and polished (as is said in one of
Congreve’s plays) like Dutch skippers from a whale-fishing.
The care which has been taken of you, and (to do you justice)
the care you have taken of yourself, has left you, at the age
of nineteen only, nothing to acquire but the knowledge of the
world, manners, address, and those exterior accomplishments.
But they are great and necessary acquisitions, to those who
have sense enough to know their true value; and your getting
them before you are one-and-twenty, and before you enter upon
the active and shining scene of life, will give you such an
advantage over all your contemporaries, that they cannot
overtake you: they must be distanced. You may probably be placed
about a young prince, who will probably be a young king. There
all the various arts of pleasing, the engaging address, the
versatility of manners, the brilliant, the Graces, will outweigh
and yet outrun all solid knowledge and unpolished merit. Oil
yourself therefore, and be both supple and shining, for that
race, if you would be first, or early, at the goal.

A type of letter which is frankly a work written for publication is
well represented by the famous _Letters of Junius_, which caused a
great stir in their day. They are what are called “open letters”--that
is, they are for general perusal, while they gain additional point by
being addressed to some well-known personage. The public, as it were,
has the satisfaction of looking over the shoulder of the man to whom
they are addressed. “Junius” is now supposed to have been =Sir Philip
Francis (1740–1818)=, though the identity of the writer was long
concealed. They began to appear in _The Public Advertiser_ in 1769, and
by their immensely destructive power they shook the Government to its
base. In force and fury they resemble Swift’s _Drapier’s Letters_, but
they tend to become petty and spiteful.

The more intimate and private letters of this period, of which there
is a large and interesting collection, are of a deeper significance to
us now, for they contain a human interest by revealing the nature of
the people who wrote them. In _The Life of Doctor Johnson_ Boswell
published many of Johnson’s letters, the most famous of which is that
containing the snub to Chesterfield. It is quoted in the exercises
attached to this chapter. Horace Walpole, as we have already noted
(p. 323), left a voluminous correspondence which for wit, vivacity,
and urbane and shallow common sense is quite remarkable. The private
letters of Cowper are attractive for their easy and unaffected grace
and their gentle and pervasive humor. We add an extract from a letter
by Cowper. The style of it should be compared with that of Chesterfield.

(_To William Hayley._)

WESTON, _February 24, 1793_
... Oh! you rogue! what would you give to have such a dream
about Milton, as I had about a week since? I dreamed that
being in a house in the city, and with much company, looking
toward the lower end of the room from the upper end of it, I
descried a figure which I immediately knew to be Milton’s.
He was very gravely, but very neatly attired in the fashion
of his day, and had a countenance which filled me with those
feelings which an affectionate child has for a beloved father,
such, for instance, as Tom has for you. My first thought was
wonder, where he could have been concealed so many years; my
second, a transport of joy to find him still alive; my third,
another transport to find myself in his company; and my fourth,
a resolution to accost him. I did so, and he received me with a
complacence, in which I saw equal sweetness and dignity. I spoke
of his _Paradise Lost_, as every man must, who is worthy
to speak of it at all, and told him a long story of the manner
in which it affected me, when I first discovered it, being at
that time a schoolboy. He answered me by a smile and a gentle
inclination of his head. He then grasped my hand affectionately,
and with a smile that charmed me, said, “Well, you for your part
will do well also”; at last recollecting his great age (for I
understood him to be two hundred years old), I feared that I
might fatigue him by much talking; I took my leave, and he took
his, with an air of the most perfect good breeding. His person,
his features, his manner, were all so perfectly characteristic,
that I am persuaded an apparition of him could not present him
more completely. This may be said to have been one of the dreams
of Pindus,[169] may it not?... With Mary’s kind love, I must now
conclude myself, my dear brother, ever yours,
LIPPUS[170]

(_d_) _The Periodical Essay._ Compared with the abundance of the
earlier portion of the century, the amount produced later seems of
little importance. The number of periodicals, however, was as great as
ever. Johnson wrote _The Rambler_ and _The Idler_, and contributed also
to _The Adventurer_ and others; Goldsmith assisted _The Bee_ during
its brief career. _The Connoisseur_, to which Cowper contributed for
a space, _The Mirror_ and _The Lounger_, published in Edinburgh by
Mackenzie, “the Man of Feeling,” _The Observer_ and _The Looker On_ all
imitated _The Spectator_ with moderate success, but show no important
development in manner or matter.

(_e_) _Miscellaneous Prose._ The amount of miscellaneous prose is
very great indeed, and a fair proportion of it is of high merit. We
have already given space to the political and philosophical writings
of Burke, whose work is of the highest class, as represented in _The
Sublime and Beautiful_ and _Reflections on the French Revolution_.
Political writing of a different aim is seen in Godwin’s _Political
Justice_; and the religious writings of Paley, the critical writings of
Percy, and the natural history of Gilbert White are all to be included
in this class.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE

=1. Poetry.= In poetical style the transitional features are well
marked. The earlier authors reveal many artificial mannerisms--for
example, extreme regularity of meter and the frequent employment of the
more formal figures of speech, such as personification and apostrophe.
The Pindaric odes of Gray and Collins are examples of the transitional
style:

Ye distant spires! ye antique towers!
That crown the watery glade,
Where grateful Science still adores
Her Henry’s holy shade;
And ye that from the stately brow
Of Windsor’s heights the expanse below
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
Wanders the hoary Thames along
His silver-winding way.
GRAY, _Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College_

In this verse there are the conventional personifications of Science
and the Thames, and such stock phrases as “the watery glade.” The whole
poem, however, is infused with a new spirit of mingled energy and
meditation.

As the century draws to a close we have many of the newer styles
appearing: the more regular blank verse of Cowper; the lighter heroic
couplet of Goldsmith; the archaic medley of Chatterton; and the intense
simplicity of Burns and Blake. As a further example of the new manner
we quote a few stanzas from a poem by Fergusson, who, dying in the year
1774 (ten years before the death of Johnson), wrote as naturally as
Burns himself:

As simmer rains bring simmer flowers,
And leaves to cleed the birken bowers;
Sae beauty gets by caller showers
Sae rich a bloom,
As for estate, or heavy dowers
Aft stands in room.

What makes auld Reekie’s dames so fair
It canna be the halesome air;
But caller burn, beyond compare,
The best o’ ony,
That gars them a’ sic graces skair[171]
An’ blink sae bonny.

On Mayday, in a fairy ring,
We’ve seen them roun’ Saint Anthon’s spring,
Frae grass the caller dew-draps wring,
To weet their e’en,
An’ water, clear as crystal spring,
To synd[172] them clean.
_Caller Water_

=2. Prose.= As in poetry, we have in prose many men and many
manners. The simplest prose of the period is found chiefly in the works
of the novelists, of whom Fielding and Smollett are good examples.
Smollett’s prose, as in the following example, is almost colloquial in
its native directness.

After we had been all entered upon the ship’s books, I inquired
of one of my shipmates where the surgeon was, that I might
have my wounds dressed, and had actually got as far as the
middle deck (for our ship carried eighty guns) in my way to the
cockpit, when I was met by the same midshipman, who had used
me so barbarously in the tender: he, seeing me free from my
chains, asked, with an insolent air, who had released me? To
this question, I foolishly answered with a countenance that too
plainly declared the state of my thoughts; “Whoever did it, I am
persuaded did not consult you in the affair.” I had no sooner
uttered these words, than he cried, “Damn you, I’ll teach you to
talk so to your officer.” So saying, he bestowed on me several
severe stripes, with a supple jack he had in his hand: and going
to the commanding officer, made such a report of me, that I was
immediately put in irons by the master-at-arms, and a sentinel
placed over me.
_Roderick Random_

The excellent middle style of Addison, the prose-of-all-work, survives,
and will continue to survive, for it is indispensable to all manner of
miscellaneous work. Goldsmith’s prose is one of the best examples of
the middle style, and so is the later work of Johnson, as well as the
writings of the authors of miscellaneous prose already mentioned in
this chapter. The following passage from Goldsmith shows his graceful
turn of sentence and his command of vocabulary. The style is clearness
itself.

The next that presented for a place, was a most whimsical figure
indeed. He was hung round with papers of his own composing, not
unlike those who sing ballads in the streets, and came dancing
up to the door with all the confidence of instant admittance.
The volubility of his motion and address prevented my being able
to read more of his cargo than the word _Inspector_, which
was written in great letters at the top of some of the papers.
He opened the coach-door himself without any ceremony, and was
just slipping in, when the coachman, with as little ceremony,
pulled him back. Our figure seemed perfectly angry at this
repulse, and demanded gentleman’s satisfaction. “Lord, sir!”
replied the coachman, “instead of proper luggage, by your bulk
you seem loaded for a West India voyage. You are big enough,
with all your papers, to crack twenty stage-coaches. Excuse me,
indeed, sir, for you must not enter.”
_The Bee_

The more ornate class of prose is represented by the _Rambler_
essays of Johnson and the writings of Gibbon and Burke. Of the three
Johnsonese is the most cumbrous, being overloaded with long words and
complicated sentences, though it has a massive strength of its own.
Gibbon bears his mantle with ease and dignity, and Burke has so much
natural vitality that his style hardly weighs upon him at all; he does
stumble, but rarely, whereas it is sometimes urged as a fault of the
prose of Gibbon that it is so uniformly good that the perfection of it
becomes deadening.

TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

A fresh and highly interesting style is the poetic prose of
Macpherson’s _Ossian_. Macpherson’s style is not ornate, for
it is drawn from the simplest elements; it possesses a solemnity of
expression, and so decided a rhythm and cadence, that the effect is
almost lyrical. In the passage now given the reader should note that
the sentences are nearly of uniform length, and that they could easily
be written as separate lines of irregular verse:

Her voice came over the sea. Arindal my son descended from
the hill; rough in spoils of the chase. His arrows rattled by his
side; his bow was in his hand; five dark grey dogs attend his
steps. He saw fierce Erath on the shore; he seized and bound
him to an oak. Thick wind the thongs of the hide around his
limbs; he loads the wind with his groans. Arindal ascends the
deep in his boat, to bring Daura to land. Amar came in his
wrath, and let fly the grey-feathered shaft. It sunk, it sunk in
thy heart, O Arindal my son; for Erath the traitor thou diedst.
The oar is stopped at once; he panted on the rock and expired.
What is thy grief, O Daura, when round thy feet is poured thy
brother’s blood! The boat is broken in twain. Amar plunges
into the sea, to rescue his Daura, or die. Sudden a blast from
the hill came over the waves. He sunk, and he rose no more.

EXERCISES

1. The first extract given below is in Johnsonese, the second
is written in Johnson’s later manner. Compare the
two with regard to their vocabulary and sentence-construction,
and say which is the more ornate and which is the
clearer and more vigorous. Which of the two do you
prefer?

(1) In this work, when it shall be found that much is omitted,
let it not be forgotten that much likewise is performed; and
though no book was ever spared out of tenderness to the author,
and the world is little solicitous to know whence proceeded the
faults of that which it condemns, yet it may gratify curiosity to
inform it, that the English Dictionary was written with little
assistance of the learned, and without any patronage of the great;
not in the soft obscurities of retirement, or under the shelter of
academic bowers, but amid inconvenience and distraction, in sickness
and in sorrow. It may repress the triumph of malignant
criticism to observe, that if our language is not here fully displayed,
I have only failed in an attempt which no human powers
have hitherto completed. If the lexicons of ancient tongues, now
immutably fixed, and comprised in a few volumes, be yet, after
the toil of successive ages, inadequate and delusive; if the aggregated
knowledge and co-operating diligence of the Italian
academicians did not secure them from the censure of Beni; if
the embodied critics of France, when fifty years had been spent
upon their work, were obliged to change its economy, and give
their second edition another form, I may surely be contented without
the praise of perfection.
JOHNSON, _Preface to “Dictionary,”_ 1755

(2) It is not to be inferred that of this poetical vigour Pope
had only a little, because Dryden had more; for every other
writer since Milton must give place to Pope; and even of Dryden
it must be said, that if he has brighter paragraphs he has not
better poems. Dryden’s performances were always hasty, either
excited by some external occasion, or extorted by domestic
necessity; he composed without consideration, and published
without correction. What his mind could supply at call, or
gather in one excursion, was all that he sought, and all that he
gave. The dilatory caution of Pope enabled him to condense his
sentiments, to multiply his images, and to accumulate all that
study might produce or chance might supply. If the flights of
Dryden therefore are higher, Pope continues longer on the wing.
If of Dryden’s fire the blaze is brighter, of Pope’s the heat is
more regular and constant. Dryden often surpasses expectation,
and Pope never falls below it. Dryden is read with frequent
astonishment, and Pope with perpetual delight.
JOHNSON, _Lives of the Poets_, 1780

2. Compare the following passage with the example of Johnsonese
given in the last question. Which is the more abstract, and which
is the more ornate? Is there any resemblance between the two in
sentence-construction and vocabulary?

There are few great personages in history who have been more
exposed to the calumny of enemies, and the adulation of friends,
than Queen Elizabeth, and yet there is scarce any whose
reputation has been more certainly determined by the unanimous
consent of posterity. The unusual length of her administration,
and the strong features of her character, were able to overcome
all prejudices; and obliging her detractors to abate much of
their invectives, and her admirers somewhat of their panegyrics,
have at last, in spite of political factions, and, what is
more, of religious animosities, produced an uniform judgment
with regard to her conduct. Her vigour, her constancy, her
magnanimity, her penetration, vigilance, address, are allowed
to merit the highest praises, and appear not to have been
surpassed by any person who ever filled a throne: a conduct less
rigorous, less imperious, more sincere, more indulgent to her
people, would have been requisite to form a perfect character.
By the force of her mind, she controlled all her more active
and stronger qualities, and prevented them from running into
excess. Her heroism was exempt from all temerity, her frugality
from avarice, her friendship from partiality, her active temper
from turbulency and a vain ambition. She guarded not herself
with equal care or equal success from lesser infirmities--the
rivalship of beauty, the desire of admiration, the jealousy of
love, and the sallies of anger.
HUME, _The History of England_

3. The following poetical extracts, which are arranged in chronological
order, are meant to show the transition from the classical to Romantic
methods. In each examine the subject, style, and the attitude of the
author, and explain how the transition is revealed.

(1) For lo! the board with cups and spoons is crowned,
The berries crackle, and the mill turns round:
On shining altars of Japan they raise
The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze:
From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide,
While China’s earth receives the smoking tide;
At once they gratify their scent and taste,
And frequent cups prolong the rich repast.
Straight hover round the fair her airy band:
Some, as she sipped, the fuming liquor fanned;
Some o’er her lap their careful plumes displayed,
Trembling and conscious of the rich brocade.
POPE, _The Rape of the Lock_, 1712

(2) In elbow-chair, like that of Scottish stem,
By the sharp tooth of cank’ring eld defaced,
In which, when he receives his diadem,
Our sov’reign prince and liefest liege is placed,
The matron sate; and some with rank she grac’d,
(The source of children’s and of courtier’s pride!)
Redress’d affronts, for vile affronts there pass’d;
And warn’d them not the fretful to deride,
But love each other dear, whatever them betide.

Right well she knew each temper to decry;
To thwart the proud, and the submiss to raise;
Some with vile copper-prize exalt on high,
And some entice with pittance small of praise;
And other some with baleful sprig she frays;
Ev’n absent, she the reins of power doth hold,
While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she sways;
Forewarn’d, if little bird their pranks behold,
’Twill whisper in her ear, and all the scene unfold.
SHENSTONE, _The Schoolmistress_, 1742

(3) But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair,
What was thy delighted measure?
Still it whisper’d promis’d pleasure,
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail;
Still would her touch the strain prolong;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
She call’d on Echo still, through all the song:
And, where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close,
And Hope enchanted smil’d, and wav’d her golden hair.
COLLINS, _The Passions_, 1747

(4) There often wanders one, whom better days
Saw better clad, in cloak of satin trimmed
With lace, and hat with splendid riband bound.
A serving-maid was she, and fell in love
With one who left her, went to sea, and died.
Her fancy followed him through foaming waves
To distant shores, and she would sit and weep
At what a sailor suffers; fancy, too,
Delusive most where warmest wishes are,
Would oft anticipate his glad return,
And dream of transports she was not to know.
She heard the doleful tidings of his death,
And never smiled again.
COWPER, _The Task_, 1785

(5) How sweet I roamed from field to field,
And tasted all the summer’s pride;
Till I the Prince of Love beheld,
Who in the sunny beams did glide.

He showed me lilies for my hair,
And blushing roses for my brow:
He led me through his gardens fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.

With sweet May-dews my wings were wet,
And Phœbus fired my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.

He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty.
BLAKE, _Songs of Innocence_, 1789

4. (_a_) Classify the styles of the following extracts into plain,
ornate, or middle, and give reasons for your classification in each
case. (_b_) How far does the style of each suit the subject? (_c_) Give
a short account of each of the authors represented. (_d_) How far does
the style in each case reveal the character of the author?

(1) Sir, your throne cannot stand secure upon the principles
of unconditional submission and passive obedience; on powers
exercised without the concurrence of the people to be governed;
on Acts made in defiance of their prejudices and habits; on
acquiescence procured by foreign mercenary troops, and secured
by standing armies. These may possibly be the foundation of
other thrones; they must be the subversion of yours. It was
not to passive principles in our ancestors, that we owe the
honour of appearing before a sovereign, who cannot feel that
he is a prince without knowing that we ought to be free. The
Revolution was a departure from the ancient course of the
descent of this monarchy. The people, at that time, re-entered
into their original rights; and it was not because a positive
law authorised what was then done, but because the freedom
and safety of the subject, the origin and cause of all laws,
required a proceeding paramount and superior to them. At that
ever-memorable and instructive period, the letter of the law
was superseded in favour of the substance of liberty. To the
free choice, therefore, of the people, without either king
or parliament, we owe that happy establishment, out of which
both King and Parliament were regenerated. From that great
principle of liberty have originated the statutes, confirming
and ratifying the establishment from which your majesty derives
your right to rule over us. Those statutes have not given us our
liberties; our liberties have produced them. Every hour of your
majesty’s reign your title stands upon the very same foundation,
on which it was at first laid; and we do not know a better, on
which it can possibly be placed.
BURKE, _Address to the King_

(2) (_Evelina, a demure young miss, is describing her
experiences in a letter to her friend Miss Mirvan._)

I burst into tears: with difficulty I had so long restrained
them; for my heart, while it glowed with tenderness and
gratitude, was oppressed with a sense of its own unworthiness.
“You are all, all goodness!” cried I, in a voice scarce
audible; “little as I deserve,--unable as I am to repay, such
kindness,--yet my whole soul feels,--thanks you for it!”

“My dearest child,” cried he, “I cannot bear to see thy
tears;--for my sake dry them; such a sight is too much for me;
think of that, Evelina, and take comfort, I charge thee!”

“Say then,” cried I, kneeling at his feet, “say then that you
forgive me! that you pardon my reserve,--that you will again
suffer me to tell you my most secret thoughts, and rely upon my
promise never more to forfeit your confidence!--my father!--my
protector!--my ever-honoured,--ever-loved--my best and only
friend!--say you forgive your Evelina, and she will study better
to deserve your goodness!”

He raised, he embraced me: he called me his sole joy, his only
earthly hope, and the child of his bosom! He folded me to his
heart: and while I wept from the fulness of mine, with words of
sweetest kindness and consolation, he soothed and tranquillised
me.

Dear to my remembrance will ever be that moment when, banishing
the reserve I had so foolishly planned, and so painfully
supported, I was restored to the confidence of the best of men!
BURNEY, _Evelina_

(3) (_The courtship of Tom Jones and Sophia Western is
interrupted by the entrance of Sophia’s father, a bluff old
squire._)

At this instant, Western, who had stood some time listening,
burst into the room, and with his hunting voice and phrase,
cried out, “To her, boy, to her, go to her.---- That’s it,
little honeys, O that’s it! Well! what, is it all over? Hath
she appointed the day, boy? What, shall it be to-morrow or next
day? It shan’t be put off a minute longer than next day, I am
resolved.” “Let me beseech you, sir,” says Jones, “don’t let
me be the occasion”---- “Beseech--,” cries Western. “I thought
thou hadst been a lad of higher mettle than to give way to a
parcel of maidenish tricks.---- I tell thee ’tis all flimflam.
Zoodikers! she’d have the wedding to-night with all her heart.
Would’st not, Sophy? Come, confess, and be an honest girl
for once. What, art dumb? Why dost not speak?” “Why should I
confess, sir?” says Sophia, “since it seems you are so well
acquainted with my thoughts?”---- “That’s a good girl,” cries
he, “and dost consent then?” “No, indeed, sir,” says Sophia,
“I have given no such consent.”--“And wunt not ha un then
to-morrow, nor next day?” says Western.---- “Indeed, sir,”
says she, “I have no such intention.” “But I can tell thee,”
replied he, “why hast nut; only because thou dost love to be
disobedient, and to plague and vex thy father.”--“Pray, sir,”
said Jones, interfering---- “I tell thee thou art a puppy,”
cries he. “When I forbid her, then it was all nothing but
sighing and whining, and languishing and writing; now I am vor
thee, she is against thee. All the spirit of contrary, that’s
all. She is above being guided and governed by her father, that
is the whole truth on’t. It is only to disoblige and contradict
me.” “What would my papa have me do?” cries Sophia. “What would
I ha thee do?” says he, “why gi’ un thy hand this moment.”----
“Well, sir,” says Sophia. “I will obey you.--There is my hand,
Mr Jones.”
FIELDING, _Tom Jones_

(4) Thus kites and buzzards sail round in circles with wings
expanded and motionless; and it is from their gliding manner
that the former are still called in the north of England gleads,
from the Saxon verb _glidan_ to glide. The kestrel,
or windhover, has a peculiar mode of hanging in the air in
one place, his wings all the while being briskly agitated.
Hen-harriers fly low over heaths or fields of corn and beat the
ground regularly like a pointer or setting-dog. Owls move in a
buoyant manner, as if lighter than the air; they seem to want
ballast. There is a peculiarity belonging to ravens that must
draw the attention even of the most incurious--they spend all
their leisure time in striking and cuffing each other on the
wing in a kind of playful skirmish; and, when they move from
one place to another, frequently turn on their backs with a
loud croak and seem to be falling to the ground. When this odd
gesture betides them, they are scratching themselves with one
foot, and thus lose the centre of gravity. Rooks sometimes dive
and tumble in a frolicsome manner; crows and daws swagger in
their walk; wood-peckers fly _volatu undoso_, opening and
closing their wings at every stroke, and so are always rising or
falling in curves.
WHITE, _The Natural History of Selborne_

5. The following are three examples of the heroic couplet, arranged
in chronological order. Examine the meter, vocabulary, and subject of
each, and state if any development is noticeable.

(1) Enlarge my life with multitude of days!
In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays;
Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know,
That life protracted is protracted woe.
Time hovers o’er, impatient to destroy,
And shuts up all the passages of joy:
In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour,
The fruit autumnal and the vernal flow’r;
With listless eyes the dotard views the store:
He views, and wonders that they please no more.
Now pall the tasteless meats and joyless wines,
And Luxury with sighs her slave resigns.
JOHNSON, _The Vanity of Human Wishes_, 1749

(2) Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
And still where many a garden flower grows wild:
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
The village preacher’s modest mansion rose.
A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich with forty pounds a-year;
Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
Nor e’er had changed, nor wished to change, his place;
Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power,
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,
More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.
GOLDSMITH, _The Deserted Village_, 1770

(3) When Plenty smiles--alas! she smiles for few--
And those who taste not, yet behold her store,
Are as the slaves that dig the golden ore--
The wealth around them makes them doubly poor.
Or will you deem them amply paid in health,
Labour’s fair child, that languishes with wealth?
Go, then! and see them rising with the sun,
Through a long course of daily toil to run;
See them beneath the Dog-star’s raging heat,
When the knees tremble and the temples beat;
Behold them, leaning on their scythes, look o’er
The labour past, and toils to come explore;
See them alternate suns and showers engage,
And hoard up aches and anguish for their age;
Then own that labour may as fatal be
To these thy slaves, as thine excess to thee.
CRABBE, _The Village_, 1783

6. We give first Johnson’s famous letter in which he refuses to accept
the tardy patronage of Lord Chesterfield. Show how the style is
appropriate to the subject, and how the letter reveals the life and
character of Johnson. Compare the style and temper of this letter with
those of the one that follows. In this extract Horace Walpole describes
the burial of George II. From this brief extract, what can you tell of
the character of Walpole?

(1)
_February 7, 1755_

MY LORD,
I have been lately informed, by the proprietor of _The World_,
that two papers, in which my _Dictionary_ is recommended to the
public, were written by your Lordship. To be so distinguished is
an honour which, being very little accustomed to favours from
the great, I know not well how to receive or in what terms to
acknowledge.

When, with some slight encouragement, I first visited your
Lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the
enchantment of your address, and could not forbear to wish
that I might boast myself _le vainqueur du vainqueur de la
terre_,--that I might obtain that regard for which I saw the
world contending; but I found my attendance so little encouraged
that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue
it. When I had once addressed your Lordship in public, I had
exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly
scholar can possess. I had done all that I could; and no man is
well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little.

Seven years, my Lord, have now passed since I waited in your
outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time
I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which
it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the
verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of
encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not
expect, for I never had a patron before. The shepherd in Virgil
grew at last acquainted with Love, and found him a native of the
rocks. Is not a patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern on
a man struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached
ground, encumbers him with help?

The notice you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it
been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am
indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot
impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is
no very cynical asperity, not to confess obligations when no
benefit has been received; or to be unwilling that the public
should consider me as owing that to a patron, which Providence
has enabled me to do for myself.

Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to
any favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though
I should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I
have been long wakened from that dream of hope in which I once
boasted myself with so much exultation,
My Lord,
Your Lordship’s most humble, most obedient Servant,
SAM. JOHNSON

(2)
ARLINGTON STREET, _November 13, 1760_
... Do you know, I had the curiosity to go to the burying
t’other night; I had never seen a royal funeral; nay, I walked
as a rag of quality, which I found would be, and so it was, the
easiest way of seeing it. It is absolutely a noble sight. The
Prince’s Chamber, hung with purple, and a quantity of silver
lamps, the coffin under a canopy of purple velvet, and six vast
chandeliers of silver on high stands, had a very good effect.
The Ambassador from Tripoli and his son were carried to see
that chamber. The procession through a line of foot-guards,
every seventh man bearing a torch, the horse-guards lining the
outside, their officers with drawn sabres and crape sashes
on horseback, the drums muffled, the fifes, bells tolling,
and minute guns, all this was very solemn. But the charm was
the entrance of the Abbey, where we were received by the Dean
and Chapter in rich copes, the choir and almsmen all bearing
torches; the whole Abbey so illuminated, that one saw it to
greater advantage than by day; the tombs, long aisles, and
fretted roof, all appearing distinctly, and with the happiest
chiaroscuro. There wanted nothing but incense, and little
chapels here and there, with priests saying mass for the repose
of the defunct--yet one could not complain of its not being
catholic enough. I had been in dread of being coupled with some
boy of ten years old--but the heralds were not very accurate,
and I walked with George Grenville, taller and older enough to
keep me in countenance.
WALPOLE

7. From a scrutiny of the subject and style of the following extracts
assign the authorship of each. State clearly the reasons that lead you
to select the particular author. Write a brief appreciation of the
style of each extract.

(1) Mr Davies mentioned my name; and respectfully introduced
me to him. I was much agitated; and recollecting his prejudice
against the Scotch, of which I had heard much, I said to Davies,
“Don’t tell where I come from.”--“From Scotland,” cried
Davies, roguishly. “Mr Johnson,” said I, “I do indeed come from
Scotland, but I cannot help it.” I am willing to flatter myself
that I meant this as light pleasantry to soothe and conciliate
him, and not as a humiliating abasement at the expense of my
country. But however that might be, this speech was somewhat
unlucky; for with that quickness of wit for which he was so
remarkable, he seized the expression “come from Scotland,” which
I used in the sense of being of that country; and, as if I had
said that I had come away from it, or left it, retorted, “That,
sir, I find, is what a very great many of your countrymen cannot
help.” This stroke stunned me a good deal; and when we had sat
down, I felt myself not a little embarrassed, and apprehensive
of what might come next.

(2) I have presumed to mark the moment of conception: I shall
now commemorate the hour of my final deliverance. It was on the
day, or rather night, of the 27th of June, 1787, between the
hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the
last page, in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my
pen I took several turns in a _berceau_, or covered walk
of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake,
and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene,
the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters,
and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first
emotions of joy on recovery of my freedom, and, perhaps, the
establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a
sober melancholy was spread over my mind, by the idea that I had
taken an everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion,
and that, whatsoever might be the future fate of my history, the
life of the historian must be short and precarious.

(3) An’ now, auld Cloots,[188] I ken ye’re thinkin,
A certain Bardie’s rantin, drinkin,
Some luckless hour will send him linkin,[189]
To your black pit;
But, faith! he’ll turn a corner jinkin,
An’ cheat you yet.

But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben!
O wad ye tak a thought an’ men’!
Ye aiblins[190] might--I dinna ken--
Still hae a stake--
I’m wae to think upo’ yon den,
E’en for your sake!

(4) “I fought just as well,” continued the Corporal, “when the
regiment called me Trim, as when they called me James Butler.”
... “And for my own part,” said my uncle Toby, “though I
should blush to boast of myself, Trim;--yet, had my name been
Alexander, I could have done no more at Namur than my duty.” ...
“Bless your Honour!” cried Trim, advancing three steps as he
spoke, “does a man think of his Christian name when he goes upon
the attack?” ... “Or when he stands in the trench, Trim?” cried
my uncle Toby, looking firm.... “Or when he enters a breach?”
said Trim, pushing in between two chairs.... “Or forces the
lines?” cried my uncle, rising up, and pushing his crutch like a
pike.... “Or facing a platoon?” cried Trim presenting his stick
like a firelock.... “Or when he marches up the glacis?” cried my
uncle Toby, looking warm and setting his foot upon his stool.

8. How far are the statements in the following passage correct? Give
examples of what Macaulay refers to, and say if his remarks are
exaggerated in any form.

Johnson came up to London precisely at the time when the
condition of a man of letters was most miserable and degraded.
It was a dark night between two sunny days.... A writer had
little to hope from the patronage of powerful individuals.
The patronage of the public did not yet furnish the means of
comfortable subsistence.... If he had lived thirty years earlier
he would have sat in parliament, and would have been entrusted
with embassies to the High Allies.
MACAULAY

9. State how far the principles set out in the passage below are
followed in the novel of the eighteenth century.

A novel is a large diffused picture, comprehending the
characters of life, disposed in different groups and exhibited
in various attitudes, for the purposes of an uniform plan. This
plan cannot be executed with propriety, probability, or success,
without a principal personage to attract the attention, unite
the incidents, unwind the clue of the labyrinth, and at last
close the scene, by virtue of his own importance.
SMOLLETT, _Ferdinand, Count Fathom_

10. “The eighteenth century established a prose style.” (Craik.)
Discuss this statement on some such lines as the following: (_a_) Was
there no “established” style in prose before the eighteenth century?
(_b_) Who “established” it then? (_c_) What are the peculiarities of
the new prose style? (_d_) What are the purposes for which it was used?
(_e_) Has it been perpetuated? (_f_) Who has used it?

11. Matthew Arnold calls Burns “a beast with splendid gleams.” Why a
“beast”? And what does he mean by the “gleams”? Is the criticism fair
to Burns?

12. Account for the great development of the novel during the
eighteenth century.

13. Who are most obviously the “transitional” poets of the century? In
what sense are they transitional?

14. Give a historical account of the rise of the lyric during the
eighteenth century.

15. Estimate the influence of French learning and literature upon
English literature during the eighteenth century.

CHAPTER X

THE RETURN TO NATURE

TIME-CHART OF THE CHIEF AUTHORS

_The thick line shows the period of important literary work._

1790 1800 1810 1820 1830 1840 1850

| ║[191]| | ║ | | | |║
Wordsworth |...║==================║...|........|........|........|║
(1770–1850) | | | | | | |
| ║[191]| | ║ | | ║ | |
Coleridge |...║================║.....|........|...║ | |
(1772–1834) | | | | | | |
| | | ║[192] | ║ | | |
Byron |........|........|.║==========║ | | |
(1788–1824) | | | | | | |
| ║ | | ║ | ║ | | |
Shelley | ║......|........|.║=========║ | | |
(1792–1822) | | | | | | |
| ║ | | ║[193] ║ | | |
Keats | ║.....|........|...║======║ | | |
(1795–1821) | | | | | | |
| | ║[194]| ║[195]| | ║ | |
Scott |........|..║========║=================║ | |
(1771–1832) | | | ║ | | | |
| ║[196] | ║ | | | |
Austen |...║==================║ | | | |
(1775–1817) | | | | | | |
| | ║ | | | ║ | |
Lamb |........|....║=========================║ | |
(1775–1834) | | | | | | |
| | | | ║[197] | | |
De Quincey |........|........|........|.║========================+
(1785–1859) | | | | | | |
| | ║ | | | ║ | |
Hazlitt |........|...║========================║ | |
(1778–1830) | | | | | | |

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND (1790–1830)

To an overwhelming extent the history of the time is the record of the
effects of the French Revolution.

=1. The European War.= The close of the eighteenth century saw
England and France engaged in open warfare (1793). Many causes
contributed to set the war in motion, and many more kept it intractably
in operation. Hostilities dragged on till 1815, in the end bringing
about the extinction of the French Republic, the birth of which was
greeted so joyfully by the English Liberals, the rise and destruction
of the power of Napoleon, and the restoration of the Bourbon dynasty.
These events had their effects in every corner of Europe, and in none
more strongly than in England.

=2. The Reaction.= It has been well said: “At the beginning of
every revolution men hope, for they think of all that mankind may
gain in a new world; in its next phase they fear, for they think of
what mankind may lose.” This was the case with the French Revolution.
The elder writers of the period, with Wordsworth and Coleridge as
conspicuous examples, hailed the new era with joy. Then, as the
Revolution proceeded to unexpected developments, there came in turn
disappointment, disillusion, dejection, and despair, and, notably in
the case of Wordsworth, the rejection of youthful ideas and the soured
adoption of the older reactionary faith. The younger writers, such as
Leigh Hunt, Shelley, and Keats, still adhered to the Revolutionary
doctrines, but the warmth of the early days had already passed away.

=3. Social Conditions.= The conclusion of the long war brought
inevitable misery; low wages, unemployment, and heavy taxation gave
rise to fiery resentment and fierce demands on the part of the people.
Men like Shelley and Ebenezer Elliott called aloud for social justice;
in gentler mood Mrs. Hemans and Tom Hood bewailed the social misery. We
have the massacre of Peterloo and the wild rioting over the Reform Bill
and the Corn Laws.

The Reform Bill (1832) was a grudging concession to the general
discontent. To conservative minds, like those of Scott and the maturer
Wordsworth, the Bill seemed to pronounce the dissolution of every
social tie. But the Bill brought only disappointment to its friends. In
the next chapter we shall see how the demand for social amelioration
deepened and broadened, and colored the literature of the time.

The interest in social conditions became intensified toward the end
of the nineteenth century, until it has grown to be one of the chief
features of modern literature.

THE RETURN TO NATURE

In the last chapter we noted the beginnings and development of the new
feeling for nature. This chapter sees the full effects of the movement,
and the subsequent reaction that followed.

=1. Abundant Output.= Even the lavishness of the Elizabethans
cannot excel that of this age. The development of new ideas brings
fresh inspiration for poetry, and the poetical sky is bright with
luminaries of the first magnitude. In prose we may note especially the
fruitful yield of the novel, the rejuvenation of the essay, and the
unprecedented activity of critical and miscellaneous writers. This is
the most fertile period of our literature.

=2. Great Range of Subject.= The new and buoyant race of writers,
especially the poets, lays the knowledge and experience of all ages
under a heavy toll. The classical writers are explored anew, and are
drawn upon by the genius of Keats and Shelley; the Middle Ages inspire
the novels of Scott and the poems of Coleridge, Southey, and many more;
modern times are analyzed and dissected in the work of the novelists,
the satires of Byron, and the productions of the miscellaneous writers.
This is indeed the return to nature, for all nature is scrutinized and
summed up afresh.

=3. Treatment of Nature.= If for the moment we take the restricted
meaning of the word, and understand by “nature” the common phenomena of
earth, air, and sea, we find the poetical attitude to nature altering
profoundly. In the work of Cowper, Crabbe, and Gray the treatment is
principally the simple chronicle and sympathetic observation of natural
features. In the new race of poets the observation becomes more matured
and intimate. Notably in the case of Wordsworth, the feeling for
nature rises to a passionate veneration that is love and religion too.
To Wordsworth nature is not only a procession of seasons and seasonal
fruition: it is the eye of all things, natural and supernatural, into
which the observant soul can peer and behold the spirit that inhabits
all things. Nature is thus amplified and glorified; it is to be sought,
not only in the flowers and the fields, but also in

the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man.

=4. Political and Periodical Writing.= The age did not produce a
pamphleteer of the first class like Swift or Burke, but the turbulence
of the period was clearly marked in the immense productivity of its
political writers. The number of periodicals was greatly augmented, and
we notice the first of the great daily journals that are still a strong
element in literature and politics. _The Morning Chronicle_ (1769)
and _The Morning Post_ (1772) were started by Henry Bate, _The Times_
(1785) by John Walter. Of a more irresponsible type were the Radical
_Political Register_ (1802) of Cobbett and _The Examiner_ (1808) of
Leigh Hunt. A race of powerful literary magazines sprang to life: _The
Edinburgh Review_ (1802), _The Quarterly Review_ (1809), _The London
Magazine_ (1817), _Blackwood’s Magazine_ (1817), and _The Westminster
Review_ (1827). Such excellent publications reacted strongly upon
authorship, and were responsible for much of the best work of Hazlitt,
Lamb, Southey, and a host of other miscellaneous writers.

=5. The Influence of Germany.= The increasing bitterness of the long
war with France almost extinguished the literary influence of the
French language, which, as was indicated in the last chapter, had been
affecting English literature deeply. In the place of French, the study
of German literature and learning came rapidly into favor. The first
poetical work of Scott is based on the German, and the effects of
the new influence can be further observed in the works of Coleridge,
Shelley, Byron, and many more. In the course of time German increased
its hold upon English, until by the middle of the nineteenth century it
was perhaps the dominating foreign tongue.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH (1770–1850)

=1. His Life.= Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth, a town which is
actually outside the Lake District, but well within hail of it. His
father, who was a lawyer, died when William was thirteen years old. The
elder Wordsworth left a modest sum of money, which was not available
at the time of his death, so that William had to depend on the
generosity of two uncles, who paid for his schooling at Hawkshead, near
Lake Windermere. Subsequently Wordsworth went to Cambridge, entering
St. John’s College in 1787. His work at the university was quite
undistinguished, and having graduated in 1791 he left with no fixed
career in view. After spending a few months in London he crossed over
to France (1791), and stayed at Orléans and Blois for nearly a year.
An enthusiasm for the Revolution was aroused in him; he himself has
chronicled the mood in one of his happiest passages:

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven.

He returned to Paris in 1792 just after the September massacres, and
the sights and stories that greeted him there shook his faith in
the dominant political doctrine. Even yet, however, he thought of
becoming a Girondin, or moderate Republican, but his allowance from
home was stopped, and he returned to England. With his sister Dorothy
(henceforward his lifelong companion) he settled in a little cottage
in Dorset; then, having met Coleridge, they moved to Alfoxden, a house
in Somersetshire, in order to live near him. It was there that the
two poets took the series of walks the fruit of which was to be the
_Lyrical Ballads_.

After a visit to Germany in 1798 the Wordsworths settled in the Lake
District, which was to be their home for the future. In turn they
occupied Dove Cottage, at Town-End, Grasmere (1802), Allan Bank (1808),
Grasmere Parsonage (1811), and lastly the well-known residence of
Rydal Mount, which was Wordsworth’s home from 1813 till his death.
Shortly after he had moved to Rydal Mount he received the sinecure of
Distributor of Stamps for Westmorland, and was put out of reach of
poverty.

The remainder of his life was a model of domesticity. He was carefully
tended by his wife and sister, who, with a zeal that was noteworthy,
though it was injudicious, treasured every scrap of his poetry that
they could lay their hands on. His great passion was for traveling. He
explored most of the accessible parts of the Continent, and visited
Scotland several times. On the last occasion (1831) he and his daughter
renewed their acquaintance with Scott at Abbotsford, and saw the great
novelist when he was fast crumbling into mental ruin. Wordsworth’s
poetry, which at first had been received with derision or indifference,
was now winning its way, and recognition was general. In 1839 Oxford
conferred upon him the degree of D.C.L.; in 1842 the Crown awarded him
a pension of £300 a year; and on the death of Southey in 1843 he became
Poet Laureate.

Long before this time he had discarded his early ideals and become the
upholder of conservatism. Perhaps he is not “the lost leader” whose
recantation Browning bewails with rather theatrical woe; but he lived
to deplore the Reform Bill and to oppose the causes to which his early
genius had been dedicated. Throughout his life, however, he never
wavered in his faith in himself and his immortality as a poet. He
lived to see his own belief in his powers triumphantly justified. It
is seldom indeed that such gigantic egoism is so amply and so justly
repaid.

=2. His Poetry.= He records that his earliest verses were written at
school, and that they were “a tame imitation of Pope’s versification.”
This is an interesting admission of the still surviving domination of
the earlier poet. At the university he composed some poetry, which
appeared as _The Evening Walk_ (1793) and _Descriptive Sketches_
(1793). In style these poems have little originality, but they already
show the Wordsworthian eye for nature. The firstfruits of his genius
were seen in the _Lyrical Ballads_ (1798), a joint production by
Coleridge and himself, which was published at Bristol.

Regarding the inception of this remarkable book both Wordsworth and
Coleridge have left accounts, which vary to some extent, though not
materially. Coleridge’s may be taken as the more plausible. He says in
his _Biographia Literaria_:

It was agreed that my endeavours should be directed to persons
and characters supernatural, or at least romantic, yet so as
to transfer from our inward nature a human interest and a
semblance of truth sufficient to procure for these shadows of
the imagination that willing suspension of disbelief for the
moment which constitutes poetic faith. Mr Wordsworth was to give
the charm of novelty to things of everyday life by awakening
the mind’s attention to the loveliness and wonders of the world
before us.

This volume is epoch-making, for it is the prelude to the Romantic
movement proper. Wordsworth had the larger share in the book. Some of
his poems in it, such as _The Thorn_ and _The Idiot Boy_, are condemned
as being trivial and childish in style; a few, such as _Simon Lee_ and
_Expostulation and Reply_, are more adequate in their expression; and
the concluding piece, _Tintern Abbey_, is one of the triumphs of his
genius.

During his visit to Germany in 1798–99 Wordsworth composed such typical
poems as _Lucy Gray_, _Ruth_, and _Nutting_, which along with a large
number of the same kind were issued in two volumes in 1807. This work,
which comprises the flower of his poetry, was sharply assailed by the
critics; but on the whole it amended the puerilities of the earlier
volume, and set in motion the steady undercurrent of appreciation that
was finally to overwhelm his detractors. While he was in Germany he
planned _The Prelude_, which was not concluded till 1805, and remained
unpublished during his lifetime. _The Prelude_, which dealt with his
education and early ideals, was meant to be the introduction to an
enormous blank-verse poem, chiefly on himself. The entire work was to
be called _The Recluse_, and _The Excursion_ (1814) was the second and
only other completed part of it. It is on the whole fortunate that the
entire poem was never finished. _The Excursion_ is in itself a huge
poem of nine books, and long stretches of it are dull and prosaic. It
is inferior to _The Prelude_, which, though it is unequal in style,
has some of the very best Wordsworthian blank verse; and it is only
reasonable to imagine that further instalments of _The Recluse_ would
mark an increasing decline in poetic merit.

After the publication of _The Excursion_ Wordsworth’s poetical power
was clearly on the wane, but his productivity was unimpaired. His later
volumes include _The White Doe of Rylstone_ (1815), _The Waggoner_
(1819), _Peter Bell_ (1819), _Yarrow Revisited_ (1835), and _The
Borderers_ (1842), a drama. The progress of the works marks the decline
in an increasing degree. There are flashes of the old spirit, such as
we see in his lines upon the death of “the Ettrick Shepherd”; but the
fire and stately intonation become rarer, and mere garrulity becomes
more and more apparent.

=3. His Theory of Poetry.= In the preface to the second edition of the
_Lyrical Ballads_ Wordsworth set out his theory of poetry, and to this
theory he continued to do lip-service, while in practice he constantly
violated it. The Wordsworthian dogma can be divided into two portions,
concerning (_a_) the subject and (_b_) the style of poetry.

(_a_) Regarding subject, Wordsworth declares his preference for
“incidents and situations from common life”; to obtain such situations
“humble and rustic life is generally chosen, because in that condition
the essential passions of the heart find a better soil.” In this
respect Wordsworth was staunch to his declared opinions, because the
majority of his poems deal with humble and rustic. life, including his
own.

(_b_) With regard to style, Wordsworth declares that the language
of poetry ought to be “the language really used by men,” especially
by rustics, because the latter “speak a plainer and more emphatic
language.” A little reflection will show that this contention is
at best only half true, and Wordsworth laid himself open to deadly
criticism. It was this part of his theory, moreover, that he himself
constantly violated. Coleridge, who was Wordsworth’s great friend, but
who held his critical faith higher than personal predilection, had but
to quote Wordsworth’s own poems to condemn him. No doubt Wordsworth in
such pieces as _Lucy Gray_ and _We are Seven_ does use the language
of ordinary men; but in his greatest poems he prefers a language of
a certain stiff ornateness, fired and fused by the passion of his
imaginative insight. As Coleridge pointed out, it is not likely that a
rustic would say

The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion.

Yet this expression is typical of Wordsworth’s style at its best.

=4. Features of his Poetry.= (_a_) _Its Inequality and its
Limitations._ All the critics of Wordsworth are at pains to point out
the mass of inferior work that came from his pen. Matthew Arnold,
one of the acutest of the poet’s admirers, closes the record of
Wordsworth’s best work with the year 1808, even before the composition
of _The Excursion_. This poem is long, meditative, and often prosaic,
and these tendencies become more marked as the years pass. Before the
year 1808 he had produced poems as intensely and artistically beautiful
as any in the language. It was hard, however, for Wordsworth to
appreciate his limitations, which were many and serious. He had little
sense of humor, a scanty dramatic power, and only a meager narrative
gift, but he strove to exploit all these qualities in his work. His one
drama, _The Borderers_, was only a partial success, and his narrative
poems, like _Ruth_ and _The White Doe of Rylstone_, are not among the
best of his work.

(_b_) _Its Egoism._ In a person of lesser caliber such a degree of
self-esteem as Wordsworth’s would have been ridiculous; in his case,
with the undoubted genius that was in the man, it was something almost
heroic. Domestic circumstances--the adoration of a couple of women and
the cloistral seclusion of the life he led--confirmed him in the habit
of taking himself too seriously. The best of his shorter poems deal
with his own experiences; and his longest works, _The Prelude_ and
_The Excursion_, describe his career, both inward and outward, with
a fullness, closeness, and laborious anxiety that are unique in our
literature.

(_c_) In spite of this self-obsession he is curiously deficient in the
purely _lyrical_ gift. He cannot bare his bosom, as Burns does; he
cannot leap into the ether like Shelley. Yet he excels, especially in
the face of nature, in the expression of a reflective and analytic mood
which is both personal and general. The following lyric illustrates
this mood to perfection:

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

Sometimes he does touch on intimate emotions, but then he tends to
be diffident and decorous, hinting at rather than proclaiming the
passions that he feels. The series of _Lucy_ poems are typical of
their kind:

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise,
And very few to love.

* * * * *

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!

Such a lyrical gift, reflective rather than passionate, finds a
congenial mode of expression in the sonnet, the most complicated and
expository of the lyrical forms. In his sonnets his lyrical mood burns
clear and strong, and as a result they rank among the best in English
poetry.

(_d_) _His Treatment of Nature._ His dealings with nature are his chief
glory as a poet.

(1) His treatment is accurate and first-hand. As he explained, he wrote
with his eye “steadily fixed on the object.” Even the slightest of his
poems have evidence of close observation:

The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one.

The most polished of his poems have the same stamp, as can be seen in
_Resolution and Independence_. “The image of the hare,” he says with
reference to this poem, quoted below, “I then observed on the ridge of
the Fell.”

There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The birds are singing in the distant woods;
Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods;
The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters;
And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.

All things that love the sun are out of doors;
The sky rejoices in the morning’s birth;
The grass is bright with rain-drops;--on the moors
The hare is running races in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy earth
Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.

(2) This personal dealing with Nature in all her moods produces a joy,
a plenteousness of delight, that to most readers is Wordsworth’s most
appealing charm. Before the beauty of nature he is never paltry; he is
nearly always adequate; and that is perhaps the highest achievement
that he ever desired. The extracts just quoted are outstanding examples
of this aspect of his poetry.

(3) In his treatment of nature, however, he is not content merely to
rejoice: he tries to see more deeply and to find the secret springs of
this joy and thanksgiving. He says:

To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

He strives to capture and embody in words such deep-seated emotions,
but, almost of necessity, from the very nature of the case, with little
success. He gropes in the shadows, and comes away with empty hands. He
cannot solve the riddle of

those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings.

Yet, with a remarkable fusion of sustained thought and of poetic
imagination, he does convey the idea of “the Being that is in the
clouds and air,” the soul that penetrates all things, the spirit,
the mystical essence, the divine knowledge that, as far as he was
concerned, lies behind all nature. Lastly, in one of the most exalted
poetical efforts in any language, he puts into words the idea of the
continuity of life that runs through all existence:

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.
_Ode: Intimations of Immortality_

(_e_) In _style_ Wordsworth presents a remarkable contrast, for
he ranges from the sublime (as in the extract last quoted) to the
ridiculous:

In the sweet shire of Cardigan,
Not far from pleasant Ivor-hall,
An old Man dwells, a little man,--
’Tis said he once was tall.
Full five-and-thirty years he lived
A running huntsman merry;
And still the centre of his cheek
Is red as a ripe cherry.
_Simon Lee_

This verse illustrates the lower ranges of his style, when he is
hag-ridden with his theories of poetic diction. The first two lines
are mediocre; the second pair are absurd; and the rest of the verse
is middling. This is simplicity overdone; yet it is always to be
remembered that at his best Wordsworth can unite simplicity with
sublimity, as he does in the lyrics we have already quoted. He has
a kind of middle style; at its best it has grace and dignity, a
heart-searching simplicity, and a certain magical enlightenment
of phrase that is all his own. Not Shakespeare himself can better
Wordsworth when the latter is in a mood that produces a poem like the
following:

“She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn,
Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm,
Of mute insensate things.

“The floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend;
Nor shall she fail to see
Even in the motions of the Storm
Grace that shall mould the Maiden’s form
By silent sympathy.

“The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.”
_The Education of Nature_

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE (1772–1834)

=1. His Life.= Coleridge was born in Devonshire, and was the youngest
of the thirteen children of the vicar of Ottery St. Mary. As a child
he was unusually precocious: “I never thought as a child,” he says,
“never had the language of a child.” When he was nine years old his
father died, and then at the age of ten he obtained a place in Christ’s
Hospital, where he astonished his schoolmates, one of whom was Charles
Lamb, with his queer tastes in reading and speculation. He went to
Cambridge (1791), where he was fired with the revolutionary doctrines.
He abandoned the university and enlisted in the Light Dragoons, but a
few months as a soldier ended his military career. In 1794 he returned
to Cambridge, and later in the year became acquainted at Oxford with
Southey, with whom he planned the founding of an ideal republic in
America. With Southey he lived for a space at Bristol, and there he
met Southey’s wife’s sister, whom he eventually married. At Bristol
Coleridge lectured, wrote poetry, and issued a newspaper called _The
Watchman_, all with the idea of converting humanity; yet in spite of
it all humanity remained unperturbed in its original sin. At this time
(1797) he met Wordsworth, and, as has already been noticed, planned
their joint production of the _Lyrical Ballads_, which was published at
Bristol.

After a brief spell as a Unitarian minister, Coleridge, who was now
dependent on a small annuity from two rich friends, studied German
philosophy on the Continent; returned to England (1799), and for a
time lived in the Lake District; tried journalism and lecturing; and
in general pursued a restless and unhappy existence. As a writer and
lecturer he was already failing, and failing fast. His work languished,
and his ability and energy were relaxed. The cause of this early
decline lay in his habit of opium-taking, which was now apparently
past mending. He parted from his wife and children, leaving them to
the charity of his friends. Till 1816 he drifted about in London, a
moral and physical wreck, his rare genius revealing itself only in
fitful gleams. In 1816, after repeated efforts to rid himself of the
foul fiend that would not let him be, he entered the house of a Mr.
Gillman, in Highgate. This provided for him a kind of refined and
sympathetic inebriates’ home. Here he gradually shook himself free from
opium-taking, and he spent the last years of his life in an atmosphere
of subdued content, visited by his friends, and conversing interminably
in that manner of wandering but luminous intelligence that marked his
later years. From the house in Highgate he issued a few books that,
with all their faults, are among the best of their class.

=2. His Poetry.= The real blossoming of Coleridge’s poetical genius
was brief indeed, but the fruit of it was rich and wonderful. With the
exception of a very few pieces, the best of his poems were composed
within two years, 1797–98.

His first book was _Poems on Various Subjects_ (1797), issued at
Bristol. The miscellaneous poems that the volume contains have only
a very moderate merit. Then, in collaboration with Wordsworth, he
produced the _Lyrical Ballads_. This remarkable volume contains
nineteen poems by Wordsworth and four by Coleridge; and of these four
by far the most noteworthy is _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_.

Wordsworth has set on record the origin of the _Ancient Mariner_.
He and Coleridge discussed the poem during their walks on the Quantock
Hills. The main idea of the voyage, founded on a dream of his own,
was Coleridge’s; Wordsworth suggested details, and they thought of
working on it together. Very soon, however, Coleridge’s imagination was
fired with the story, and his friend very sensibly left him to write
it all. Hence we have that marvelous series of dissolving pictures,
so curiously distinct and yet so strangely fused into one: the voyage
through the polar ice; the death of the albatross; the amazing scenes
during the calm and the storm; and the return home. In style, in swift
stealthiness of narrative speed, and in its weird and compelling
strength of imagination the poem is without a parallel.

In 1797 Coleridge also wrote _Christabel_ and _Kubla Khan_. Both
of these poems remained unfinished, and lay unpublished till 1816.
_Christabel_ is the tale of a kind of vampire which, by taking the
shape of a lovely lady, wins the confidence of the heroine Christabel.
The tale is barely begun when it collapses. Already Coleridge’s fatal
indecision is declaring itself. The poem is long enough, however, to
show us Coleridge’s superlative power as a poet. There are passages
of wonderful beauty and of charming natural description, though they
scarcely reach the heights of the _Ancient Mariner_. The meter, now
known as the _Christabel_ meter, is a loose but exceedingly melodious
form of the octosyllabic couplet. It became exceedingly popular, and
its influence is still unimpaired. We give a brief extract to show the
meter, and also to give a slight idea of the poet’s descriptive power:

There is not wind enough to twirl
The one red leaf, the last of its clan,
That dances as often as dance it can,
Hanging so light, and hanging so high,
On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.

_Kubla Khan_ is the echo of a dream--the shadow of a shadow. Coleridge
avers that he dreamt the lines, awoke in a fever of inspiration,
threw the words on paper, but before the fit was over was distracted
from the composition, so that the glory of the dream never returned
and _Kubla Khan_ remained unfinished. The poem, beginning with a
description of the stately pleasure-dome built by Kubla Khan in Xanadu,
soon becomes a dreamlike series of dissolving views, grows wilder
and wilder into a dervish-dance of the imagination, and collapses in
mid-career.

In the same year Coleridge composed several other poems, including
the fine _Frost at Midnight_, _Love_, and the _Ode to France_. In
1802 he wrote the great ode _Dejection_, in which he already bewails
the suspension of his “shaping spirit of Imagination.” Save for a few
fragments, such as the beautiful epitaph _The Knight’s Tomb_, the
remainder of his poems are of poorer quality and slight in bulk. His
play _Remorse_ was, on the recommendation of Byron, accepted by the
management of the Drury Lane Theatre and produced in 1813. It succeeded
on the stage, but as literature it is of little importance.

=3. Features of his Poetry.= Within its peculiar limits his poetical
work, slight though it is, is of the highest.

(_a_) The most conspicuous feature of the poems is their intense
_imaginative power_. Sometimes this riots into excess. It exploits
the weird, the supernatural, and the obscure. Yet, such is the power
of true imagination, it can produce what Coleridge calls “that
willing suspension of disbelief,” and for the moment he can compel us
to believe it all. He sees nature with a penetrating and revealing
glance, drawing from it inspiration for the stuff of his poetry. He is
particularly fine in his descriptions of the sky and the sea and the
wider and more remote aspects of things.

(_b_) No poet has ever excelled Coleridge in _witchery of language_.
His is the song the sirens sang. The _Ancient Mariner_ has more than
one passage like the following:

And now ’twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel’s song,
That makes the heavens be mute.
It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

The epitaph we have mentioned is another fine example:

Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O’Kellyn?
Where may the grave of that good man be?
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn,
Under the twigs of a young birch tree.
The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year,
And whistled and roared in the winter alone,
Is gone,--and the birch in its stead is grown.--
The knight’s bones are dust,
And his good sword rust:--
His soul is with the saints, I trust.

The reader of such passages can discover something of the secret of
their charm by observing the dexterous handling of the meter, the
vowel-music, and other technical features, but in the last analysis
their beauty defies explanation: it is there that genius lies.

(_c_) Along with his explosive fervor Coleridge preserves a fine
_simplicity of diction_. He appeals directly to the reader’s
imagination by writing with great clearness. In this respect he
often closely resembles Wordsworth. His meditative poem _Frost at
Midnight_ strongly shows this resemblance:

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet moon.

=4. His Prose.= The same blight that afflicted Coleridge’s poetry
lies upon his prose. It is scrappy, chaotic, and tentative. In bulk it
is large and sprawling; in manner it is diffuse and involved; but in
its happier moments it possesses a breadth, a depth, and a searching
wisdom that are as rare as they are admirable.

Most of his prose was of journalistic origin. In theme it is chiefly
philosophical or literary. In 1796 he started _The Watchman_, a
periodical, ambitious in scope, which ran to ten numbers only. To
this journal Coleridge contributed some typical essays, which, among
much that is both obscure and formless, show considerable weight and
acuteness of thought. He followed with much more miscellaneous prose,
some of it being written for _The Morning Post_, to which he was for
a time a contributor. In 1808 he began a series of lectures on poetry
and allied subjects, but already the curse of opium was upon him, and
the lectures were failures. While he resided in the Lake District
he started _The Friend_ (1809), which was published at Penrith, but
like _The Watchman_ it had a brief career. Then in 1817, when he had
shaken himself free from opium, he published _Biographia Literaria_ and
_Sibylline Leaves_.

_Biographia Literaria_ is his most valuable prose work. It pretends
to record his literary upbringing, but as a consecutive narrative it
is quite worthless. After sixteen chapters of philosophizing, almost
entirely irrelevant, he discusses the poetical theory of his friend
Wordsworth, and then in the last seven chapters of the book he gives
a remarkable demonstration of his critical powers. He analyzes the
Wordsworthian theory in masterly fashion, and, separating the good from
the bad, upon the sounder elements bases a critical dogma of great and
permanent value. These last chapters of the book, which are the most
enduring exposition of the Romantic theory as it exists in English,
place Coleridge in the first flight of critics.

In addition, he gave another series of lectures (1818), and wrote
(1825) _Aids to Reflection_. But he seemed to be incapable of writing
a work of any size. After his death his _Table Talk_ was published,
giving fleeting glimpses of a brilliant and erratic mind.

We give a short extract from his prose. This shows not only his sincere
and temperate admiration for the poems of Wordsworth, but also the
nature of his prose style. As a style it is not wholly commendable. It
is too involved, and clogged with qualifications and digressions; but,
though he develops his ideas in a curious indirect fashion, he makes
rapid progress.

Had Mr Wordsworth’s poems been the silly, the childish things,
which they were for a long time described as being; had they
been really distinguished from the compositions of other poets
merely by meanness of language and inanity of thought; had they
indeed contained nothing more than what is found in the parodies
and pretended imitations of them; they must have sunk at once,
a dead weight, into the slough of oblivion, and have dragged
the preface along with them. But year after year increased the
number of Mr Wordsworth’s admirers. They were found, too, not
in the lower classes of the reading public, but chiefly among
young men of strong sensibility and meditative minds; and their
admiration (inflamed perhaps in some degree by opposition) was
distinguished by its intensity, I might almost say, by its
_religious_ fervour. These facts, and the intellectual
energy of the author, which was more or less consciously felt,
where it was outwardly and even boisterously denied, meeting
with sentiments of aversion to his opinions, and of alarm at
their consequences, produced an eddy of criticism, which would
of itself have borne up the poems by the violence with which it
whirled them round and round. With many parts of this preface,
in the sense attributed to them, and which the words undoubtedly
seem to authorise, I never concurred; but on the contrary
objected to them as erroneous in principle, and as contradictory
(in appearance at least) both to other parts of the same
preface, and to the author’s own practice in the greater number
of the poems themselves. Mr Wordsworth in his recent collection
has, I find, degraded this prefatory disquisition to the end of
his second volume, to be read or not at the reader’s choice. But
he has not, as far as I can discover, announced any change in
his poetic creed.
_Biographia Literaria_

LORD BYRON (1788–1824)

=1. His Life.= George Gordon Byron, sixth Lord Byron, was as proud
of his ancestry as he was of his poetry, and his ancestors were as
extraordinary as was his poetry. They stretched back to the Norman
Conquest, and included among them a notorious admiral, Byron’s
grandfather. The poet’s father was a rake and a scoundrel. He married
a Scottish heiress, Miss Gordon of Gight, whose money he was not long
in squandering. Though the poet was born in London, his early years
were passed in Aberdeen, his mother’s native place. At the age of ten
he succeeded his grand-uncle in the title and in the possession of
the ruinous Abbey of Newstead, and Scotland was left behind for ever.
He was educated at Harrow and Cambridge, where he showed himself to
be heir to the ancestral nature, dark and passionate, but relieved by
humor and affection. All his life through Byron cultivated the somber
and theatrical side of his disposition, which latterly became a byword;
but there can be little doubt that his “Byronic” temperament was not
entirely affected. His mother, a foolish, unbalanced woman, warped
the boy’s temper still more by her frequent follies and frenzies. The
recollection of the tortures he underwent in the fruitless effort to
cure him of a malformity of his foot remained with him till his death.

Leaving the university (1807), he remained for a while at Newstead,
where with a few congenial youths he plunged into orgies of puerile
dissipation. In the fashion of the time, he gloried in the reputation
he was acquiring for being a dare-devil, but he lived to pay for it.
Wearying of loose delights, he traveled for a couple of years upon the
Continent. He had previously taken his seat in the House of Lords, but
made no mark in political affairs.

Then with a sudden bound he leaped into the limelight. His poem on his
travels became all the rage. He found himself the darling of society,
in which his youth, his title, his physical beauty, his wit, and his
picturesque and romantic melancholy made him a marvel and a delight.
He married a great heiress (1814), but after a year his wife left him,
for reasons that were not publicly divulged. Regarding his conduct dark
rumors grew apace; his popularity waned, and in the face of a storm
of abuse he left England for good (1816). For the last eight years of
his life he wandered about the Continent, visiting Italy, and there
meeting Shelley. Finally the cause of Greek independence caught his
fancy. He devoted his money, which was inconsiderable, and the weight
of his name, which was gigantic, to the Greeks, who proved to be very
ungrateful allies. He died of fever at Missolonghi, and his body was
given a grand funeral in the England that had cast him out.

=2. His Poetry.= Byron’s first volume was a juvenile effort, _Hours
of Idleness_ (1807), which was little more than the elegant trifling
of a lord who condescends to be a minor poet. This frail production
was roughly handled by _The Edinburgh Review_, and Byron, who never
lacked spirit, retorted with some effect. He composed a satire in the
style of Pope, calling it _English Bards and Scotch Reviewers_ (1809).
The poem is immature, being often crudely expressed, and it throws
abuse recklessly upon good writers and bad; but in the handling of
the couplet it already shows some of the Byronic force and pungency.
The poem is also of interest in that it lets us see how much he is
influenced by the preceding age.

Next view in state, proud prancing on his roan,
The golden-crested haughty Marmion,
Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight,
Not quite a felon, yet but half a knight,
The gibbet or the field prepared to grace;
A mighty mixture of the great and base.
And think’st thou, Scott! by vain conceit perchance,
On public taste to foist thy stale romance,
Though Murray with his Miller may combine
To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line?

Then followed the two years of travel, which had their fruit in the
first two cantos of _Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage_ (1812). The hero
of the poem is a romantic youth, and is very clearly Byron himself.
He is very grand and terrible, and sinister with the stain of a dark
and awful past. He visits some of the popular beauty-spots of the
Continent, which he describes in Spenserian stanzas of moderate skill
and attractiveness. The poem is diffuse, but sometimes it can be terse
and energetic; the style is halfheartedly old-fashioned, in deference
to the stanza. Byron is to do much better things, but already he shows
a real appreciation of nature, and considerable dexterity in the
handling of his meter.

On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone,
And winds are rude in Biscay’s sleepless bay.
Four days are sped, but with the fifth, anon,
New shores descried make every bosom gay;
And Cintra’s mountain greets them on their way,
And Tagus dashing onward to the deep,
His fabled golden tribute bent to pay;
And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap.
And steer ’twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap.

_Childe Harold_ brought its author a dower of fame, which in the next
few years he was to squander to the uttermost. In the intervals of
society functions he produced poetic tales in astonishing profusion:
_The Giaour_ and _The Bride of Abydos_ in 1813, _The Corsair_ and
_Lara_ in 1814, _The Siege of Corinth_ and _Parisina_ in 1815. These
tales deal with the romantic scenes of the East; they almost uniformly
reproduce the young Byronic hero of _Childe Harold_; and to a great
extent they are mannered and stagy. Written in the couplet form, the
verse is founded on that of the metrical tales of Scott, whom Byron was
not long in supplanting in popular favor, although the masculine fervor
of Scott’s poems is lacking from his work. In sentiment his lines are
often sickly enough, yet they sometimes have a vehemence that might be
mistaken for passion, and a tawdriness that imitates real beauty.

In 1816 Byron was hounded out of England, and his wanderings are
chronicled in the third (1816) and fourth (1817) cantos of _Childe
Harold’s Pilgrimage_. In meter and general scheme the poem is
unaltered, but in spirit and style the new parts are very different
from the first two cantos. The descriptions are firmer and terser, and
are often graced with a fine simplicity; the old-fashioned mannerisms
are entirely discarded; and the tone all through is deeper and more
sincere. There is apparent an undercurrent of bitter pessimism that is
only natural under the circumstances, though he dwells too lengthily
upon his misfortunes. The following stanza is a fair specimen of this
later and simpler style:

They keep his dust in Arqua, where he died;
The mountain village where his latter days
Went down the vale of years, and ’tis their pride--
An honest pride--and let it be their praise,
To offer to the passing stranger’s gaze
His mansion and his sepulchre; both plain
And venerably simple, such as raise
A feeling more accordant with his strain
Than if a pyramid formed his monumental fane.

During these years on the Continent he was not idle. Some of his longer
poems are _The Prisoner of Chillon_ (1816) and _Mazeppa_ (1819), the
last of his metrical tales. He also composed a large number of lyrics,
most of them only mediocre in quality; and he added several great
satirical poems, the most notable of which are _Beppo_ (1818), _The
Vision of Judgment_ (1822), directed mainly against Southey, and, the
longest of all, _Don Juan_.

In range, in vigor, and in effectiveness _Don Juan_ ranks as one of
the greatest of satirical poems. It was issued in portions during the
years 1819–24, just as Byron composed it. It is a kind of picaresque
novel cast into verse. The hero, like that of the picaresque novel,
has many wanderings and adventures, the narration of which might go
on interminably. At the time of its publication it was denounced by a
shocked world as vile and immoral, and to a great extent it deserves
the censure. In it Byron expresses the wrath that consumes him, and
all the human race comes under the lash. The strength and flexibility
of the satire are beyond question, and are freely revealed in bitter
mockery, in caustic comment, and in burning rage. The stanzas, written
in _ottava rima_, are as keen and supple as a tempered steel blade.
The style is a kind of sublimated, half-colloquial prose, showing a
disdainful abrogation of the finer poetical trappings; but in places it
rises into passages of rare and lovely tenderness. When affliction came
upon him, in the words of Lear he had vowed a vow:

No, I’ll not weep;
I have full cause of weeping, but this heart
Will break into a hundred thousand flaws
Or ere I’ll weep.

But sometimes the poet prevails over the satirist, and the mocking
laughter is stifled with the sound of bitter weeping.

The first extract given below shows Byron in his bitter and cynical
mood; the tone of the second and third is far removed from such
asperity:

(1) Ovid’s a rake, as half his verses show him,
Anacreon’s morals are a still worse sample,
Catullus scarcely has a decent poem,
I don’t think Sappho’s Ode a good example,
Although Longinus tells us there is no hymn
Where the sublime soars forth on wings more ample;
But Virgil’s songs are pure, except that horrid one
Beginning with “Formosum Pastor Corydon.”

Lucretius’ irreligion is too strong
For early stomachs to prove wholesome food;
I can’t help thinking Juvenal was wrong,
Although no doubt his real intent was good,
For speaking out so plainly in his song,
So much indeed as to be downright rude;
And then what proper person can be partial
To all those nauseous epigrams of Martial?

(2) Round her she made an atmosphere of life;
The very air seemed lighter from her eyes,
They were so soft and beautiful, and rife
With all we can imagine of the skies,
As pure as Psyche ere she grew a wife--
Too pure even for the purest human ties;
Her overpowering presence made you feel
It would not be idolatry to kneel.

Her eyelashes, though dark as night, were tinged--
It is the country’s custom--but in vain;
For those large black eyes were so blackly fringed,
The glossy rebels mocked the jetty stain,
And in her native beauty stood avenged:
Her nails were touched with henna; but again
The power of art was turned to nothing, for
They could not look more rosy than before.

(3) Thus lived--thus died she; never more on her
Shall sorrow light or shame. She was not made
Through years or moons the inner weight to bear,
Which colder hearts endure till they are laid
By age in earth: her days and pleasures were
Brief, but delightful--such as had not stayed
Long with her destiny; but she sleeps well
By the sea-shore whereon she loved to dwell.

That isle is now all desolate and bare,
Its dwelling down, its tenants passed away;
None but her own and father’s grave is there
And nothing outward tells of human clay;
Ye could not know where lies a thing so fair;
No one is there to show, no tongue to say
What was; no dirge except the hollow seas
Mourns o’er the beauty of the Cyclades.

=3. His Drama.= Byron’s dramas are all blank-verse tragedies that were
composed during the later stages of his career, when he was in Italy.
The chief are _Manfred_ (1817), _Marino Faliero_ (1820), _The Two
Foscari_ and _Cain_ (1821), and _The Deformed Transformed_ (1824). In
nearly all we have a hero of the Byronic type. In _Cain_, for example,
we have the outcast who defies the censure of the world; in _The
Deformed Transformed_ there are thinly screened references to Byron’s
own deformity. In this fashion he showed that he had little of the real
dramatic faculty, for he could portray no character with any zeal
unless it resembled himself. The blank verse has power and dignity, but
it lacks the higher poetic inspiration.

=4. Features of his Poetry.= (_a_) For a man of his egotistical temper
Byron’s _lyrical gift_ is disappointingly meager. He wrote many tuneful
and readable lyrics, such as _She walks in Beauty_ and _To Thyrza_. His
favorite theme draws on variations of the following mood:

Do thou, amid the fair white walls,
If Cadiz still be free,
At times, from out her latticed halls,
Look o’er the dark blue sea;

Then think upon Calypso’s isles,
Endeared by days gone by;
To others give a thousand smiles,
To me a single sigh.

In such lyrics he is merely sentimental, and the reader cannot avoid
thinking that he is posturing before the world. When he attempts more
elevated themes, as he does in _The Isles of Greece_, he is little
better than a poetical tub-thumper. Of the genuine passionate lyric
there is little trace in his poems.

(_b_) His _satirical power_ is gigantic. In the expression of his
scorn, a kind of sublime and reckless arrogance, he has the touch
of the master. Yet in spite of his genius he has several defects.
In the first place, his motive is to a very large extent personal,
and so his scorn becomes one-sided. It is, however, a sign of the
essential bigness of his mind that he hardly ever becomes mean and
spiteful. Secondly, he lacks the deep vision of the supreme satirist,
like Cervantes, who behind the shadows of the crimes and follies
of men can see the pity of it all. In the third place, he is often
deliberately outrageous. When he found how easily and deeply he could
shock a certain class of people he went out of his way to shock them,
and succeeded only too well. No doubt this satisfied Byron’s injured
feelings, but it is a rather cheap and juvenile proceeding, and
detracts from the solid value of his work.

(_c_) He treats _nature_ in a rather lordly fashion, more as a humble
helper in his poems than as a light and inspiration. In his later poems
he agreeably modified this attitude; and his passion for the sea never
paled.

(_d_) His _style_ has been sufficiently revealed in the extracts we
have given. He could modulate it with great skill to the purpose in
hand. Dignified in his dramas, melodious in his songs, vigorous in his
narratives, and stinging in his satires, he is hardly ever dull, seldom
obscure, and always the master of his medium.

(_e_) A word is necessary regarding the fluctuations of his
_reputation_. In his earlier manhood he was reckoned among the great
poets; he lived to hear himself denounced, and his poetry belittled.
After his death Victorian morality held up hands in horror over his
iniquity, and his real merits were steadily decried. Since those days
his reputation has been climbing back to take a stable position high
above the second-rate poets. In some European countries he still
ranks second to none among English poets. He broke down the labored
insularity of the English, and he gave to non-English readers a clear
and forcible example of what the English language can accomplish.

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY (1792–1822)

=1. His Life.= Shelley was born in Sussex, the heir to a baronetcy
and a great fortune. He was educated at Eton and Oxford, but from a
very early age showed great eccentricity of character. He frequented
graveyards, studied alchemy, and read books of dreadful import. While
he was at the university he wrote several extraordinary pamphlets, one
of which, _The Necessity of Atheism_, caused him to be expelled from
Oxford. He had already developed extreme notions on religion, politics,
and morality generally, a violence that was entirely theoretical, for
by nature he was among the most unselfish and amiable of mankind.
His opinions, as well as an early and unhappy marriage which he
contracted, brought about a painful quarrel with his relatives. This
was finally composed by the poet’s father, Sir Timothy Shelley, who
settled an annuity upon his son. The poet immediately took to the life
that suited him best, ardently devoting himself to his writing, and
wandering where the spirit led him. In 1816 his first wife committed
suicide; and Shelley, having married the daughter of William Godwin,
settled in Italy, the land he loved the best. The intoxication of
Rome’s blue sky and the delicious unrestraint of his Italian existence
set his genius blossoming into the rarest beauty. In the full flower
of it he was drowned, when he was only thirty years old, in a sudden
squall that overtook his yacht in the Gulf of Spezzia. His body--a fit
consummation--was burned on the beach where it was found, and his ashes
were laid beside those of Keats in the Roman cemetery that he had nobly
hymned. It is impossible to estimate the loss to literature that was
caused by his early extinction. The crudeness of his earlier opinions
was passing away, his vision was gaining immeasurably in clearness and
intensity, and his singing-robes seemed to be developing almost into
seraph’s wings. In his case the grave can indeed claim a victory.

=2. His Poetry.= His earliest effort of any note is _Queen Mab_ (1813).
The poem is clearly immature; it is lengthy, and contains much of
Shelley’s cruder atheism. It is written in the irregular unrhymed meter
that was made popular by Southey. The beginning is worth quoting, for
already it reveals a touch of the airy music that was to distinguish
his later work:

How wonderful is Death,
Death and his brother Sleep!
One, pale as yonder waning moon
With lips of lurid blue;
The other, rosy as the morn
When throned on ocean’s wave
It blushes o’er the world:
Yet both so passing wonderful!

_Alastor, or The Spirit of Solitude_ (1816) followed. It is a kind
of spiritual autobiography. The chief character is a wild youth who
retires into the wilderness and stays there under highly romantic
circumstances. The poem is too long and formless, and in places the
expression becomes so wild as to be only a foamy gabble of words. It is
written in blank verse that shows Shelley’s growing skill as a poet.
After this came _Laon and Cynthia_ (1817), afterward called _The Revolt
of Islam_. It has the fault of its immediate predecessor--lack of grip
and coherence; but it is richer in descriptive passages, and has many
outbursts of rapturous energy.

Then Shelley left for Italy. The first fruits of his new life were
apparent in _Prometheus Unbound_ (1819). This wonderful production
is a combination of the lyric and the drama. The story is that of
Prometheus, who defied the gods and suffered for his presumption.
There is a small proportion of narrative in blank verse, but the
chief feature of the poem is the series of lyrics that both sustain
and embellish the action. As a whole the poem has a sweep, a soar,
and an unearthly vitality that sometimes staggers the imagination. It
is peopled with spirits and demigods, and its scenes are cast in the
inaccessible spaces of sky, mountain, and sea.

In _The Cenci_ (1819) Shelley started to write formal drama. In this
play he seems deliberately to have set upon himself the restraints
that he defied in _Prometheus Unbound_. The plot is not of the sky and
the sea; it is a grim and sordid family affair; in style it is neither
fervent nor ornate, but bleak and austere. Yet behind this reticence of
manner there is a deep and smoldering intensity of passion and enormous
adequacy of tragic purpose. Many of the poet’s admirers look upon it as
his masterpiece; and there can be little doubt that, with the exception
possibly of the _Venice Preserved_ of Otway, it is the most powerful
tragedy since the days of Shakespeare. The last words of the play,
when the heroine goes to her doom, are almost heart-breaking in their
simplicity:

_Beatrice._ Give yourself no unnecessary pain,
My dear Lord Cardinal. Here, mother, tie
My girdle for me, and bind up this hair
In any simple knot; ay, that does well.
And yours I see is coming down. How often
Have we done this for one another! Now
We shall not do it any more. My lord,
We are quite ready. Well, ’tis very well.

The poems of this period are extraordinary in their number and quality.
Among the longer ones are _Julian and Maddalo_ (1818) and _The Masque
of Anarchy_ (1819). The latter, inspired by the news of the massacre
of Peterloo, expresses Shelley’s revolutionary political views, and is
very severe on Lord Castlereagh. The beginning of the poem is startling
enough:

I met Murder on the way,
He had a mask like Castlereagh;
Very smooth he looked, yet grim,
Seven bloodhounds followed him.

In _The Witch of Atlas_ (1820) and _Epipsychidion_ (1821) Shelley rises
further and further into the ether of poetical imagination, until he
becomes almost impossible of comprehension. _Adonais_ (1821) is a
lament for the death of Keats. In plan the poem is crazily constructed,
but it glows with some of the most splendid of Shelley’s conceptions:

He has outsoared the shadow of our night.
Envy and calumny and hate and pain,
And that unrest which men miscall delight,
Can touch him not and torture not again.
From the contagion of the world’s slow stain
He is secure; and now can never mourn
A heart grown cold, a head grown grey, in vain--
Nor, when the spirit’s self has ceased to burn,
With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn.

He lives, he wakes--’tis Death is dead, not he;
Mourn not for Adonais.--Thou, young Dawn,
Turn all thy dew to splendour, for from thee
The spirit thou lamentest is not gone!
Ye caverns and ye forests, cease to moan!
Cease, ye faint flowers and fountains; and, thou Air,
Which like a mourning veil thy scarf hadst thrown
O’er the abandoned Earth, now leave it bare
Even to the joyous stars which smile on its despair!

With the longer poems went a brilliant cascade of shorter lyrical
pieces. To name them is to mention some of the sweetest English lyrics.
The constantly quoted _Skylark_ and _Cloud_ are among them; so are some
exquisite songs, such as _Lines to an Indian Air_, _Music, when soft
voices die_, _On a Faded Violet_, _To Night_, and the longer occasional
pieces--for example, _Lines written among the Euganean Hills_, and
the _Letter to Maria Gisborne_. Of his many beautiful odes, the most
remarkable is _To the West Wind_. The stanzas have the elemental rush
of the wind itself, and the conclusion, where Shelley sees a parallel
to himself, is the most remarkable of all:

Make me thy lyre, ev’n as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

Will take from both a deep autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe,
Like wither’d leaves, to quicken a new birth;
And, by the incantation of this verse,

Scatter, as from an unextinguish’d hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawaken’d earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

=3. His Prose.= Shelley began his literary career with two boyish
romances, _Zastrozzi_ and _St. Irvyne_. These books were written when
he was still at school, and are almost laughably bad in style and
story. The only other prose work that is worth mention is his short
essay _The Defence of Poetry_. The work is soundly written, and is a
strong exposition of the Romantic point of view. His published letters
show him to have been a man of considerable common sense, and not
merely the crazy theorist of popular imagination. His prose style is
somewhat heavy, but always clear and readable.

=4. Features of his Poetry.= (_a_) His _lyrical power_ is equal to
the highest to be found in any language. It is now recognized to be
one of the supreme gifts in literature, like the dramatic genius of
Shakespeare. This gift is shown at its best when it expresses the
highest emotional ecstasy, as in the lyrics of _Prometheus Unbound_.
It is a sign of his great genius that, in spite of the passion that
pervades his lyrics, he is seldom shrill and tuneless. He can also
express a mood of blessed cheerfulness, a sane and delectable joy. To
the Spirit of Delight he says:

I love Love, though he has wings,
And like light can flee,
But above all other things,
Spirit, I love thee.
Thou art love and life! O come,
Make once more my heart thy home.

He can also express the keenest note of depression and despair, as in
the lyric _O World! O Life! O Time!_

(_b_) In his _choice of subject_ he differs from such a poet as Burns,
who is almost the only other poet who challenges him as master of the
lyric. Shelley lacks the homely appeal of Burns; he loves to roam
through space and infinity. In his own words he

Feeds upon the aerial kisses
Of shapes that haunt thought’s wildernesses.

He rejoices in nature, but nature of a spiritual kind, which he peoples
with phantoms and airy beings:

I love all that thou lovest,
Spirit of Delight!
The fresh Earth in new leaves drest,
And the starry night;
Autumn evening, and the morn
When the golden mists are born.

I love snow, and all the forms
Of the radiant frost:
I love waves, and winds, and storms,
Everything almost
Which is nature’s, and may be
Untainted by man’s misery.

(_c_) His _descriptive power_ at once strikes the imagination. The
effect is instantaneous. His fancy played among wild and elemental
things, but it gave them form and substance, as well as a radiant
loveliness. His favorite device for this purpose is personification, of
which the following is an excellent example:

For Winter came; the wind was his whip;
One choppy finger was on his lip;
He had torn the cataracts from the hills,
And they clanked at his girdle like manacles.
_The Sensitive Plant_

We add another extract to show his almost unearthly skill in
visualizing the wilder aspects of nature. Note the extreme simplicity
and ease of the style:

We paused among the pines that stood
The giants of the waste,
Tortured by storms to shapes as rude
As serpents interlaced.
_The Pine Forest_

(_d_) His _style_ is perfectly attuned to his purpose. Like all
the finest lyrical styles, it is simple, flexible, and passionate.
Sometimes, as in _The Cenci_, it rises to a commanding simplicity. The
extracts already given sufficiently show this.

(_e_) Shelley’s _limitations_ are almost as plain as his great
abilities. His continual rhapsodizings tend to become tedious and
baffling; in his narrative he is diffuse and argumentative; he lacks
humor; and his political poetry is often violent and unreasonable.

(_f_) _His Reputation._ During his lifetime Shelley’s opinions obscured
his powers as a poet. Even to Scott, who with all his Tory prejudices
was liberal enough in his views on literature, he was simply “that
atheist Shelley.” After his death his reputation rose rapidly, and by
the middle of the nineteenth century his position was assured. By the
curious alternation that seems to affect popular taste, his fame since
that time has paled a little; but no fluctuations in taste can ever
remove him from his place among the great.

JOHN KEATS (1795–1821)

=1. His Life.= Keats was born in London, the son of the well-to-do
keeper of a livery stable. He was educated at a private school at
Enfield, and at the age of fifteen was apprenticed to a surgeon. In
1814 he transferred his residence to London, and followed part of the
regular course of instruction prescribed for medical students. Already,
however, his poetical bent was becoming apparent. Surgery lost its
slight attraction, and the career of a poet became a bright possibility
when he made the acquaintance of Leigh Hunt (1815), the famous Radical
journalist and poet, whose collisions with the Government had caused
much commotion and his own imprisonment. Keats was soon intimate with
the Radical brotherhood that surrounded Leigh Hunt, and thus he became
known to Shelley and others. In 1817 he published his first volume of
verse, but it attracted little notice, in spite of the championship
of Hunt. By this time the family tendency to consumption became
painfully manifest in him, and he spent his time in searching for
places, including the Isle of Wight and the suburbs of London, where
his affliction might be remedied. While he was staying in London he
became acquainted with Fanny Brawne, and afterward was engaged to
her for a time. His malady, however, became worse, and the mental and
physical distress caused by his complaint, added to despair regarding
the success of his love-affair, produced a frantic state of mind
painfully reflected in his letters to the young lady. These letters
were foolishly printed (1879), long after the poet’s death.

His second volume of verse, published in 1818, was brutally assailed by
_The Quarterly Review_ and (to a lesser degree) by _Blackwood’s
Magazine_. These Tory journals probably struck at him because of
his friendship with the radical Leigh Hunt. Keats bore the attack with
apparent serenity, and always protested that he minded it little; but
there can be little doubt that it affected his health to some degree.
In 1820 he was compelled to seek warmer skies, and died in Rome early
in the next year, at the age of twenty-five.

=2. His Poetry.= When he was about seventeen years old Keats
became acquainted with the works of Spenser, and this proved to be
the turning-point in his life. The mannerisms of the Elizabethan
immediately captivated him, and he resolved to imitate him. His
earliest attempt at verse is his _Imitation of Spenser_ (1813), written
when he was eighteen. This and some other short pieces were published
together in his _Poems_ (1817), his first volume of verse. This book
contains little of any outstanding merit. The different poems, which
include the pieces _On Death_, _To Hope_, and _Sleep and Poetry_,
follow the methods of Shenstone, Gray, and Byron. Of a different
quality was his next volume, which bore the title of _Endymion_ (1818).
Probably based partly on Drayton’s _Man in the Moon_ and Fletcher’s
_Faithful Shepherdess_, this remarkable poem of _Endymion_ professes to
tell the story of the lovely youth who was kissed by the moon-goddess
on the summit of Mount Latmos. Keats develops this simple myth into an
intricate and flowery tale of over four thousand lines. The work is
clearly immature, and flawed with many weaknesses both of taste and
of construction, but many of the passages are most beautiful, and
the poem shows the tender budding of the Keatsian style--a rich and
suggestive beauty obtained by a richly ornamented diction. The first
line is often quoted, and it contains the theory that Keats followed in
a subconscious fashion during most of his poetical career:

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever.

The crudeness of the work laid it temptingly open to attack, and, as we
have noticed, the hostile reviews found it an easy prey.

Keats’s health was already failing, but the amount of poetry he wrote
is marvelous both in magnitude and in quality. His third and last
volume, published just before he left England, contains a collection of
poems of the first rank, which were written approximately in the order
that follows.

_Isabella, or The Pot of Basil_ (1818), is a version of a tale from
Boccaccio, and deals with the murder of a lady’s lover by her two
wicked brothers. The poem, which is written in _ottava rima_, marks
a decided advance in Keats’s work. The slips of taste are fewer; the
style is richer and deeper in tone; and the conclusion, though it is
sentimentally treated, is not wanting in pathos.

_The Eve of St. Agnes_ (1818) has for a plot the merest incident
dealing with the elopement of two lovers. The tale is so sumptuously
adorned with the silks and jewels of poetical imagination that it
is almost lost in the decoration. This is sometimes considered his
masterpiece; it is certainly the most typical of his poems. The
richness of fancy and pictorial effect mark the summit of the poet’s
art. It is somewhat hectic and overloaded, but its faults are quite
venial. We add one of its exquisite Spenserian stanzas:

Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,
And threw warm gules on Madeleine’s fair breast,
As down she knelt for heaven’s grace and boon;
Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
And on her hair a glory, like a saint:
She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest,
Save wings, for heaven:--Porphyro grew faint:
She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.

_Hyperion_ (1818) is of a different type. For this poem Keats adopts
blank verse, and for theme he goes to the primeval warfare between
early deities, such as Saturn and Thea, and younger divinities, such
as Apollo and Minerva. The poem remains unfinished, owing, it is
stated, to the poet’s discouragement over the reception of _Endymion_.
It is doubtful if Keats could ever have finished it. The scale of the
story is so gigantic, and the style is pitched at such an altitude of
sublimity that Keats appears to have been lacking in mere physical
fitness to carry it to a conclusion. In the fragment that we have an
observant reader can see that the poet’s grip is loosening, and his
breath failing, before the effort ceases entirely. Keats, with his
usual insight, appropriately writes the poem in a style of bleak and
almost terrible simplicity. The opening lines are among the best:

Deep in the shady sadness of a vale,
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from the fiery noon, and eve’s one star,
Sat gray-haired Saturn, quiet as a stone,
Still as the silence round about his lair;
Forest on forest hung about his head
Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there,
Not so much life as on a summer’s day
Robs not one light seed from the feathered grass,
But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
A stream went voiceless by, still deadened more
By reason of his fallen divinity
Spreading a shade: the Naiad ’mid her reeds
Pressed her cold finger closer to her lips.

Next was written _The Eve of St. Mark_ (1819), which also remains
unfinished. The tale shows how far even Keats can improve upon himself.
It is adorned with brilliant descriptive passages, and the strokes are
more dashing than usual. The earlier languor and sentimentality are
almost eliminated:

The bells had ceased, the prayers begun,
And Bertha had not yet half done
A curious volume, patched and torn,
That all day long, from earliest morn,
Had taken captive her two eyes,
Among its golden broideries;
Perplexed her with a thousand things,
The stars of heaven, and angels’ wings,
Martyrs in a fiery blaze,
Azure saints and silver rays,
Moses’ breastplate, and the seven
Candlesticks John saw in heaven,
The winged Lion of St Mark,
And the Covenantal Ark,
With its many mysteries,
Cherubim and golden mice.

The story of _Lamia_ (1819) is taken from Burton’s _Anatomy of
Melancholy_, and tells of a beautiful enchantress. It is the weakest of
all the longer poems, and the lapses are more numerous. The language
becomes mannered and overdone:

He answered, bending to her open eyes,
Where he was mirrored small in paradise,--
“My silver planet, both of eve and morn!
Why will you plead yourself so sad forlorn,
While I am striving how to fill my heart
With deeper crimson, and a double smart?
How to entangle, trammel up and snare
Your soul in mine, and labyrinth you there,
Like the hid scent in an unbudded rose?”

In this passage we observe the strength of Keats running to seed.
Phrases like “plead yourself” and “labyrinth you” go beyond the limits
of poetical license; and the whole passage in conception resembles
the conceits of the Caroline poets rather than the finer and stronger
flights of imagination of which Keats was so thoroughly capable.

Together with the longer poems are many shorter pieces of supreme
beauty. The great odes--_To a Nightingale_, _On a Grecian Urn_, _To
Autumn_--were nearly all written in 1819. Among the other shorter poems
_La Belle Dame sans Merci_, a kind of lyrical ballad, is considered to
be one of the choicest in the language.

In 1819 Keats collaborated in a drama, _Otho the Great_, and began
another, _King Stephen_, which he did not complete. Neither effort
is of much consequence. _The Cap and Bells_, a longish fairy-tale
which also is unfinished, is much below the level of his usual work.

=3. Features of his Poetry.= (_a_) His _style_ should be considered
first, for Keats is above all a stylist. The typical Keatsian poetry
is, one imagines, the ideal of what is popularly considered to be
“poetry”: it is gorgeously attractive, with its melodic beauty and
sensuous passion; soft and caressing, like velvet; and richly colored
and odorous. At its very best the spell of it works like a divine
enchantment; but at even a little less than the best it becomes
unctuous, sickly, and stuffily uncomfortable. There can be little
doubt that Keats’s physical malady shows itself in his writings. With
all their genius, they are the work of an unhealthy brain. His heroes
are languid and neurotic creatures, and his style is attuned to their
swoons and faintings. A stanza from _Isabella_ will illustrate what has
already been exemplified in the verse we have quoted from _The Eve of
St. Agnes_:

So once more had he waked and anguished
A dreary night of love and misery,
If Isabel’s quick eye had not been wed
To every symbol on his forehead high;
She saw it waxing very pale and dead,
And straight all flushed; so, lisped tenderly,
“Lorenzo!”--here she ceased her timid quest,
But in her tone and look he read the rest.

(_b_) His _descriptive and romantic quality_ is of the highest. He
modeled his work upon that of Spenser, but before he had finished
he almost bettered his model. In beauty and splendor he is nearly
unrivaled. He ranges among classical and medieval subjects, and
distills from them the essence of their beauty. For example, he knew no
Greek, but he could reproduce the full charm of the Greek seaboard:

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea-shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.
_Ode on a Grecian Urn_

(_c_) Keats’s _lyrical faculty_ is limited. When brooding over his woes
he can utter a complaint on the true lyrical note. Hence we obtain
such results as his wonderful last sonnet and _La Belle Dame sans
Merci_, which is a lyric thinly disguised as a ballad. He was perhaps
physically unable to experience the healthier joys of Burns, and so was
incapable of expressing them.

(_d_) _His Influence._ A single glance at the table at the head of this
chapter will show how piteously short was his poetical career; but,
short as it was, his labor created a larger school than that of any of
his contemporaries. His tradition was carried on by Tennyson and the
Pre-Raphaelites, and to this day his influence is strong in English
poetry.

OTHER POETS

=1. Robert Southey (1774–1843).= Southey was born at Bristol,
educated at Westminster School and at Oxford, and settled down to lead
the laborious life of a man of letters. He produced a great mass of
work, much of which is of considerable merit, and he ranked as one of
the leading writers of his age. Most of his work was written at Greta
Hall, near Keswick, where he lived most of his life. He was made Poet
Laureate in 1813. His reputation, especially as a poet, has not been
maintained.

His poems, which are of great bulk, include _Joan of Arc_ (1798),
_Thalaba the Destroyer_ (1801), _The Curse of Kehama_ (1810), and
_Roderick the Goth_ (1814); they are pretentious in style and subject,
but are now almost forgotten. Some shorter pieces, such as _The
Holly-tree_, _The Battle of Blenheim_, and _The Inchcape Rock_, are
still in favor, and deservedly so.

His numerous prose works include _The History of Brazil_ (1810–19) and
_The Peninsular War_ (1822–33). The slightest of them all, _The Life
of Nelson_ (1813), is the only one now freely read. It shows Southey’s
easy yet scholarly style at its best.

=2. Walter Savage Landor (1775–1864).= Landor had a long life, for
he was born five years after Wordsworth, and lived to see the full
yield of the Victorian era. Of an ancient family, he was born in
Warwickshire, and was educated at Rugby and Oxford. Later he was fired
with republican ideas, abandoned his projected career in the British
Army, and supported the revolutionaries in Spain. In temper he was
impulsive to the point of mania; and his life is marked by a succession
of violent quarrels with his friends and enemies. The middle years of
his life were passed in Italy. He returned to England in 1838, and
lived in Bath until 1858. In this year his pugnacity involved him in an
action for damages, in which as defendant he cut a lamentable figure.
Poor and dishonored, he forsook England, and settled again in Florence,
where he died.

His _Gebir_ (1798) is a kind of epic poem written in blank verse. It
is “classical” in its stiff and formal style; but it has a stately
beauty and much powerful natural description. _Count Julian_ (1812),
a tragedy, has much the same qualities, good and bad, as _Gebir_. His
shorter pieces, especially the eight-line lyric _Rose Aylmer_, have
more ease and passion, and are gracefully expressed.

His bulkiest prose work is his _Imaginary Conversations_, which was
published at intervals from 1824 to 1846. The volumes record imaginary
dialogues between all kinds of people on a great variety of subjects.
They have Landor’s chief defect, a stony lifelessness; but in style
they are stately, strong, and scholarly, with frequent passages of
noble description. All his life he continued to issue essays and
pamphlets. A collection of them, called _Dry Sticks_ (1858), as has
been noticed, brought upon his head the weight of the law. Landor
professed to despise popularity; he was moody, crotchety, and often
deliberately perverse. Posterity has repaid him by consigning him to an
oblivion that only the devotion of a small but eminent band of admirers
keeps from being absolute.

=3. Thomas Moore (1779–1852).= Moore was born in Dublin, took his
degree at Trinity College, and studied law in the same city. He too
was imbued with revolutionary notions, and attempted to apply them to
Ireland, but with no success. He obtained a valuable appointment in
the Bermudas, the duties of which were discharged by a deputy, who in
this case proved faithless and caused Moore financial loss. Moore was
a friend of Byron and a prominent literary figure of the time. Most of
his life was passed as a successful man of letters.

His poems were highly successful during his lifetime, but after his
death there was a reaction against them. His _Irish Melodies_ are set
to the traditional musical airs of Ireland. They are graceful, and
adapt themselves admirably to the tunes. Moore, however, lacked the
depth and far-ranging strength of Burns, and so he failed to do for
Ireland what the Ayrshire poet did for Scotland: he did not raise
the national sentiment of Ireland into one of the precious things of
literature. His _Lalla Rookh_ (1817) is an Oriental romance, written
in the Scott-Byron manner then so popular. The poem had an immense
success, which has now almost totally faded. It contains an abundance
of florid description, but as poetry it is hardly second-rate. Moore’s
political satires, such as _The Twopenny Postbag_ (1813), _The Fudge
Family in Paris_ (1818), and _Fables for the Holy Alliance_ (1823), are
keen and lively, and show his Irish wit at its very best.

His prose works include his _Life of Byron_ (1830), which has taken
its place as the standard biography of that poet. It is an able and
scholarly piece of work, and is written with much knowledge and
sympathy.

=4. Thomas Campbell (1777–1844).= Campbell was born in Glasgow, of
a poor but ancient family. After studying at Glasgow University he
became tutor to a private family; but his _Pleasures of Hope_ (1799)
brought him fame, and he adopted the career of a poet. He visited the
Continent, and saw much of the turmoil that there reigned. Returning,
he settled in London, where he was editor of _The New Monthly Magazine_
from 1820 to 1830.

His longer poems are quite numerous, and begin with the _Pleasures
of Hope_, which consists of a series of descriptions of nature in
heroic couplets, written in a style that suggests Goldsmith. Other
longer poems include _Gertrude of Wyoming_ (1809), a longish tale
of Pennsylvania, written in Spenserian stanzas, and _The Pilgrim of
Glencoe_ (1842). Campbell, however, is chiefly remembered for his
stirring songs, some of which were written during his early Continental
tour and were published in newspapers. His most successful are _Ye
Mariners of England_ and _The Battle of the Baltic_, which are
spirited without containing the bluster and boasting that so often
disfigure the patriotic song.

=5. Samuel Rogers (1763–1855).= Rogers was born in London, the son of a
rich banker. He soon became a partner in his father’s firm, and for the
rest of his life his financial success was assured. His chief interest
lay in art and poetry, which he cultivated in an earnest fashion. He
was a generous patron of the man of letters, and was acquainted with
most of the literary people of the time. His breakfasts were famous.

His _Pleasures of Memory_ (1792) is a reversion to the typical
eighteenth-century manner, and as such is interesting. He could
compose polished verses, but he was little of the poet. Other works are
_Columbus_ (1812), _Jacqueline_ (1814), a tale in the Byronic manner,
and _Italy_ (1822).

Rogers was a careful and fastidious writer, but his excellence does not
go much further. His name is a prominent one in the literary annals of
the time, but his wealth rather than his merit accounts for this.

=6. Leigh Hunt (1784–1859)=, unlike Rogers, was not a wealthy amateur
who could trifle for years with mediocre production; he was of the
arena, taking and giving hard knocks in both political and literary
scuffles. He was born in Middlesex, educated at Christ’s Hospital, and
while still in his teens became a journalist, and remained a journalist
all his life. His Radical journal _The Examiner_ (1808) was strongly
critical of the Government, and Hunt’s aptitude for abuse landed him
in prison for two years. His captivity, as he gleefully records, made
a hero of him; and most of the literary men who prided themselves upon
their Liberalism--among them being Wordsworth, Byron, Moore, Keats, and
Shelley--sought his friendship. Hunt had a powerful influence on Keats,
and published some of the latter’s shorter poems in _The Examiner_. He
tried various other journalistic ventures, but none of them had the
success of _The Examiner_; his attempted collaboration in journalism
with Byron was a lamentable failure. He died, like Wordsworth and
others, a respectable pensioner of the Government he had once so
strongly condemned.

He much fancied himself as a poet, and popular taste confirmed him
in his delusion. The best of his longer poems is _Rimini_ (1811), an
Italian tale in verse. The poem is of interest because its flowing
couplets were the model for Keats’s _Endymion_. Hunt’s shorter
pieces--for example, _Abou Ben Adhem_--are often graceful, but their
poetical value is not very high.

His prose includes an enormous amount of journalistic matter, which
was occasionally collected and issued in book form. Such was his _Men,
Women, and Books_ (1847). His _Autobiography_ (1850) contains much
interesting biographical and literary gossip. He is an agreeable
essayist, fluent and easygoing; his critical opinions are solid
and sensible, though often half-informed. He wrote a novel, _Sir
Ralph Esher_ (1832), and a very readable book on London called _The
Town_ (1848). Hunt is not a genius, but he is a useful and amiable
second-rate writer.

=7. James Hogg (1770–1835).= Hogg became known to the world as “the
Ettrick Shepherd,” for he was born of a shepherd’s family in the valley
of the Ettrick, in Selkirkshire. He was a man of much natural ability,
and from his infancy was an eager listener to the songs and ballads of
his district. He was introduced to Walter Scott (1802) while the latter
was collecting the Border minstrelsy, and by Scott he was supported
both as a literary man and as a farmer. Many of his admirers assisted
him in the acquisition of a sheep-farm, but Hogg proved to be a poor
farmer. He was known to most of the members of the Scottish literary
circle, but his shiftless and unmanageable disposition alienated most
of his friends. He died in his native district.

Hogg had little education and very little sense of discrimination, so
that much of his poetry is very poor indeed. Sometimes, however, his
native talent prevails, and he writes such poems as _Kilmeny_ and _When
the Kye comes Hame_. The latter is a lyric resembling those of Burns in
its humor and simple appeal. In _Kilmeny_ (in _The Queen’s Wake_) he
achieves what is commonly held to be the true Celtic note: the eerie
description of elves and the gloaming, and murmuring and musical echoes
of things half seen and half understood. Some of his books are _The
Forest Minstrel_ (1801), _The Queen’s Wake_ (1813), and _The Brownie of
Bodsbeck_ (1818), the last being a prose tale.

=8. Ebenezer Elliott (1781–1849).= Elliott was born at Masborough,
in Yorkshire, and worked as an iron-founder. The struggles of the poor,
oppressed by the Corn Laws, were early borne in upon him, and his
poetical gift was used in a fierce challenge to the existing system.
Like Crabbe, he devoted himself to the cause of the poor; and it
is a tribute to his merit as a poet that, in spite of his bristling
assertiveness, he produced some work of real value. He became known as
the “Corn Law Rhymer,” and he lived to see the abolition of the laws
that he had always attacked.

His best book is _Corn Law Rhymes_ (1830), which includes the powerful
and somber _Battle-song_. This poem is a kind of anthem for the poor,
and breathes a spirit of fierce unrest.

=9. Felicia Hemans (1793–1835).= Mrs. Hemans’s maiden name was
Browne, and she was born at Liverpool. Later she removed to Wales,
where a large part of her life was spent. At the age of fifteen she
began to write poetry, and persisted in the habit all her life. She
married somewhat unhappily, but she lived to be a highly popular
poetess, and produced a large amount of work. She died in Dublin.

Nobody can call Mrs. Hemans a great poetess, but her verses are facile
and fairly melodious, and she can give simple themes a simple setting.
One can respect the genuine quality of her emotions, and the zeal with
which she expressed them. Some of her better lyrics--for example,
_The Stately Homes of England_, _The Graves of a Household_, and _The
Pilgrim Fathers_--are in their limited fashion well done.

=10. Thomas Hood (1799–1845).= Hood was a native of London, and became
a partner in a book-selling firm. He took to a literary career, and
contributed to many periodicals, including _The London Magazine_. For a
time he edited _The New Monthly Magazine_, but he was much troubled by
illness, and died prematurely.

Hood first gained notoriety with some humorous poems, published
under the title of _Whims and Oddities_ (1826). To modern taste the
humor is rather cheap, for it consists largely of verbal quibblings,
such as the free use of the pun. It seemed to be acceptable to the
public of the time, for the book had much success. Other volumes in
the same vein were _The Comic Annual_, _Up the Rhine_ (1839), and
_Whimsicalities_ (1843). Hood, in spite of his smartness, could not
keep free of vulgarity, and his wit often jars. As a kind of tragic
relief Hood sometimes produced poems of a tearful intensity, such as
_The Death-bed_ and _The Bridge of Sighs_. One could believe that his
grief was genuine if he did not dwell so much upon it. His _Song of
the Shirt_, first published in _Punch_ in 1845, is rather a versified
political pamphlet than a real poem, but it is powerful verse, and
one can forgive much on account of the motive, which was to help
the sweated sempstress. His _Dream of Eugene Aram_ (1829) was an
attempt at the horrible, and was long a _bravura_ piece for aspiring
elocutionists. It is a middling specimen of poetical rhetoric.

=11. John Clare (1793–1864)= was a true peasant poet, and in his day he
had a great popularity. After his death his works fell into neglect,
but recently (1920) a reissue of his poems, some of them new to the
public, has recalled attention to the considerable value of much that
he wrote. He was born near Peterborough, his father being a cripple and
a pauper. At the age of thirteen he saved sufficient money to buy a
copy of _The Seasons_, which fired his poetic ability. His _Collection
of Original Trifles_ (1817) attracted notice, and his _Poems_ (1820)
was much praised. The patronage of rich admirers put him above poverty,
but a tendency to insanity developed, and, like Christopher Smart, he
died in a madhouse.

Clare’s poems are seen at their best when they deal with simple rustic
themes, and then they are quite charming. He rejoices in the ways of
animals and insects. He is not a great poet, but there are many poets
with flaunting credentials who have less claims to consideration than
he.

=12. James Smith (1775–1837)= and =Horace Smith (1779–1849)=, two
brothers, collaborated in the production of a work that was one of
the “hits” of the period. This book was _Rejected Addresses_ (1812).
When the Drury Lane Theatre was burned down and rebuilt the management
offered a prize for the best poem to be recited on the opening
night. The Smiths hit on the idea of making parodies of the notable
poets of the time and pretending that they were the rejected poems
of the writers mentioned. The result is the classical collection of
parodies in English. Scott, Wordsworth, and other well-known authors
are imitated, usually with much cleverness. The Wordsworth poem is
recited by Nancy Lake, a girl of eight, who is drawn upon the stage in
a perambulator:

My brother Jack was nine in May,
And I was eight on New Year’s Day;
So in Kate Williams’ shop
Papa (he’s my papa and Jack’s)
Bought me, last week, a doll of wax,
And brother Jack a top.

WALTER SCOTT (1771–1832)

=1. His Life.= Scott was born in Edinburgh, of an ancient stock of
Border freebooters. At the age of eighteen months he was crippled
for life by a childish ailment; and though he grew up to be a man of
great physical robustness he never lost his lameness. He was educated
at the High School of Edinburgh and at the university; and there he
developed that powerful memory which, though it rejected things of no
interest to it, held in tenacious grasp a great store of miscellaneous
knowledge. His father was a lawyer, and Scott himself was called to
the Scottish Bar (1792). As a pleader he had little success, for he
was much more interested in the lore and antiquities of the country.
He was glad, therefore, to accept a small legal appointment as Sheriff
of Selkirkshire (1799). Just before this, after an unsuccessful
love-affair with a Perthshire lady, he had married the daughter of
a French exile. In 1806 he obtained the valuable post of Clerk of
Session, but for six years he received no salary, as the post was still
held by an invalid nominally in charge.

In 1812, on receipt of his first salary as Clerk of Session, he
removed from his pleasant home of Ashiestiel to Abbotsford, a
small estate near Melrose. For the place he paid £4000, which he
characteristically obtained half by borrowing and half on security
of the poem _Rokeby_, still unwritten. During the next dozen
years he played the laird at Abbotsford, keeping open house, sinking
vast sums of money in enlarging his territory, and adorning the house
in a manner that was frequently in the reverse of good taste. In
1826 came the crash. In 1801 he had assisted a Border printer, James
Ballantyne, to establish a business at Edinburgh. In 1805 Scott became
secretly a partner. As a printing firm the concern was a fair success;
but in an evil moment, in 1809, Scott, with another brother, John
Ballantyne, started a publishing business. The new firm was poorly
managed from the beginning; in 1814 it was only the publication of
_Waverley_ that kept it on its legs, but the enormous success
of the later Waverley Novels gave it abounding prosperity--for the
time. Then John Ballantyne, a reckless fellow, plunged heavily into
further commitments, which entailed great loss; Scott in his easy
fashion also drew heavily upon the firm’s funds; and in 1826 the whole
erection tumbled into ruin. With great courage and sterling honesty
Scott refused to take the course that the other principals accepted
naturally, and compound with his creditors. Instead he attempted what
turned out to be the impossible task of paying the debt and surviving
it. His liabilities amounted to £117,000, and before he died he had
cleared off £70,000. After his death the remainder was made good,
chiefly from the proceeds of Lockhart’s _Life_, and his creditors
were paid in full.

The gigantic efforts he made brought about his death. He had a slight
paralytic seizure in 1830. It passed, but it left him with a clouded
brain. He refused to desist from novel-writing, or even to slacken the
pace. Other illness followed, his early lameness becoming more marked.
After an ineffectual journey to Italy, he returned to Abbotsford, and
died within sound of the river he loved so well.

=2. His Poetry.= Scott’s earliest poetical efforts were translations
from the German. _Lenore_ (1799), the most considerable of them, is
crude enough, but it has much of his later vigor and clatter. In 1802
appeared the first two volumes of _The Minstrelsy of the Scottish
Border_. In some respects the work is a compilation of old material;
but Scott patched up the ancient pieces when it was necessary, and
added some original poems of his own, which were done in the ancient
manner. The best of his own contributions, such as _The Eve of St.
John_, have a strong infusion of the ancient force and fire, as well as
a grimly supernatural element.

In _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_ (1805) there is much more
originality. The work is a poem of considerable length, professing to
be the lay of an aged bard who seeks shelter in the castle of Newark.
As a tale the poem is confused and difficult; as poetry it is mediocre;
but the abounding vitality of the style, the fresh and intimate local
knowledge, and the healthy love of nature made it a revelation to a
public anxious to welcome the new Romantic methods. The poem was a
great and instant success, and was quickly followed up with _Marmion_
(1808).

In popular estimation _Marmion_ is held to be Scott’s masterpiece.
The story deals with Flodden Field, and is intricate in detail, as
Scott labors to obtain a _dénouement_. For several cantos the tale
is cumbered with the masses of antiquarian and topical matter with
which Scott’s mind was fully charged. Once the narrative is within
touch of Flodden it quickens considerably. The conclusion, dealing
with the death of Marmion and the close of the battle, is one of the
triumphs of martial verse:

But as they left the dark’ning heath,
More desperate grew the strife of death.
The English shafts in volleys hail’d,
In headlong charge their horse assail’d;
Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep
To break the Scottish circle deep,
That fought around their King.
But yet, though thick the shafts as snow,
Though charging knights like whirlwinds go
Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow,
Unbroken was the ring;
The stubborn spear-men still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood,
Each stepping where his comrade stood,
The instant that he fell.
No thought was there of dastard flight;
Link’d in the serried phalanx tight,
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,
As fearlessly and well;
Till utter darkness closed her wing
O’er their thin host and wounded King....

Next came _The Lady of the Lake_ (1810), a still greater success, but
clumsy in plot and heavy with unpoetical matter. The poem made the
fortune of the Trossachs. In _Rokeby_ (1813) the scene shifts to the
North of England. As a whole this poem is inferior to its predecessors,
but some of the lyrics have a seriousness and depth of tone that are
quite uncommon in the spur-and-feather pageantry of Scott’s verse. _The
Bridal of Triermain_ (1813) and _The Lord of the Isles_ (1814) mark a
decline in quality.

In addition to the longer poems Scott composed many lyrics, and
continued to write such till late in his career. Most of them are
passable in a tuneful and picturesque fashion; and in a few, such as
_Proud Maisie_ and _A Weary Lot is Thine_, he attains to something
finer and deeper. A ballad from _Rokeby_ has an intensity that gives it
a strongly lyrical cast. The conclusion is as follows:

“With burnish’d brand and musketoon
So gallantly you come,
I read you for a bold Dragoon,
That lists the tuck of drum.”
“I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;
But when the beetle sounds his hum,
My comrades take the spear.

“And O! though Brignall banks be fair,
And Greta woods be gay,
Yet mickle must the maiden dare,
Would reign my Queen of May!

“Maiden! a nameless life I lead,
A nameless death I’ll die;
The fiend whose lantern lights the mead
Were better mate than I!
And when I’m with my comrades met
Beneath the green-wood bough,
What once we were we all forget,
Nor think what we are now.

“Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there,
Would grace a summer queen.”

As a poet Scott’s reputation has depreciated and continues to
depreciate. His faults, like his merits, are all on the surface: he
lacks the finer poetical virtues, such as reflection, melody, and
delicate sympathy; he (in poetry) is deficient in humor; he records
crude physical action simply portrayed. Even the vigor that is often
ascribed to him exists fitfully, for he loads his narrative with
overabundant detail, often of a technical kind. When he does move
freely he has the stamp, the rattle, and the swing of martial music.
One must nevertheless do credit to the service he did to poetry by
giving new zest to the Romantic methods that had already been adopted
in poetry.

=3. His Prose.= About 1814 Scott largely gave up writing poetry, and
save for a few short pieces wrote no more in verse. There are two
chief reasons for his desertion of the poetical form. With his native
shrewdness he saw that he had marketed as much verse as the public
could absorb; and, secondly, as he confessed in the last year of his
life, Byron had “bet” him by producing verse tales that were fast
swallowing up the popularity of his own. In 1814 Scott returned to
a fragment of a Jacobite prose romance that he had started and left
unfinished in 1805. He left the opening chapters as they stood,
and on to them tacked a rapid and brilliant narrative dealing with
the Forty-five. This made the novel _Waverley_, which was issued
anonymously in 1814. Owing chiefly to its ponderous and lifeless
beginning, the book hung fire for a space; but the remarkable remainder
was almost bound to make it a success. After _Waverley_ Scott went on
from strength to strength: _Guy Mannering_ (1815), _The Antiquary_
(1816), _The Black Dwarf_ (1816), _Old Mortality_ (1816), _Rob Roy_
(1818), _The Heart of Midlothian_ (1818), _The Bride of Lammermoor_
(1819), and _The Legend of Montrose_ (1819). All these novels deal
with scenes in Scotland, but not all with historical Scotland. They
are not of equal merit, but even the weakest, _The Black Dwarf_,
is astonishingly good. Scott now turned his gaze abroad, producing
_Ivanhoe_ (1820), the scene of which is pitched in early England; then
turned again to Scotland and suffered failure with _The Monastery_
(1820), though he triumphantly rehabilitated himself with _The Abbot_
(1820), a sequel to the last. Henceforth he ranged abroad or stayed
at home as he fancied in _Kenilworth_ (1821), _The Pirate_ (1822),
_The Fortunes of Nigel_ (1822), _Peveril of the Peak_ (1823), _Quentin
Durward_ (1823), _St. Ronan’s Well_ (1824), _Redgauntlet_ (1824),
_The Betrothed_ (1825), and _The Talisman_ (1825). By this time such
enormous productivity was telling even on his gigantic powers. In the
later books the narrative is often heavier, the humor more cumbrous,
and the descriptions more labored.

Then came the financial deluge, and Scott began a losing battle against
misfortune and disease. But even yet the odds were not too great for
him; for in succession appeared _Woodstock_ (1826), _The Fair Maid of
Perth_ (1828), _Count Robert of Paris_ (1831), and _Castle Dangerous_
(1831). The last works were dictated from the depths of mental and
bodily anguish, and the furrows of mind and brow are all over them. Yet
frequently the old spirit revives and the ancient glory is renewed.

It should never be forgotten that along with these literary] labors
Scott was filling the office of Clerk of Session, was laboriously
performing the duties of a Border laird, and was compiling a mass
of miscellaneous prose. Among this last are his editions of Dryden
(1808) and Swift (1814), heavy tasks in themselves; the _Lives of the
Novelists_ (1820); the _Life of Napoleon_ (1827), a gigantic work
that cost him more labor than ten novels; and the admirable _Tales
of a Grandfather_ (1827–29). His miscellaneous articles, pamphlets,
journals, and letters are a legion in themselves.

=4. Features of his Novels.= (_a_) _Rapidity of Production._ Scott’s
great success as a novelist led to some positive evils, the greatest
of which was a too great haste in the composition of his stories.
His haphazard financial methods, which often led to his drawing upon
future profits, also tended to overproduction. Haste is visible in the
construction of his plots, which are frequently hurriedly improvised,
developed carelessly, and finished anyhow. As for his style, it is
spacious and ornate, but he has little ear for rhythm and melody, and
his sentences are apt to be shapeless. The same haste is seen in the
handling of his characters, which sometimes finish weakly after they
have begun strongly. An outstanding case of this is Mike Lambourne in
_Kenilworth_.

It is doubtful if Scott would have done any better if he had taken
greater pains. He himself admitted, and to a certain extent gloried in,
his slapdash methods. So he must stand the inevitable criticisms that
arise when his methods are examined.

(_b_) His _contribution to the novel_ is very great indeed. To the
historical novel he brought a knowledge that was not pedantically
exact, but manageable, wide, and bountiful. To the sum of this
knowledge he added a life-giving force, a vitalizing energy, an
insight, and a genial dexterity that made the historical novel an
entirely new species. Earlier historical novels, such as Clara Reeve’s
_Old English Baron_ (1777) and Miss Porter’s _Scottish Chiefs_
(1810), had been lifeless productions; but in the hands of Scott the
historical novel became of the first importance, so much so that for a
generation after his time it was done almost to death. It should also
be noted that he did much to develop the domestic novel, which had
several representatives in the Waverley series, such as _Guy Mannering_
and _The Antiquary_. To this type of fiction he added freshness, as
well as his broad and sane handling of character and incident.

(_c_) _His Shakespearian Qualities._ Scott has often been called the
prose Shakespeare, and in several respects the comparison is fairly
just. He resembles Shakespeare in the free manner in which he ranges
high and low, right and left, in his search for material. On the other
hand, in his character-drawing he lacks much of the Elizabethan’s deep
penetration, though he has much of Shakespeare’s genial, tolerant
humor, in which he strongly resembles also his great predecessor
Fielding. It is probably in this large urbanity that the resemblance to
Shakespeare is observed most strongly.

(_d_) _His Style._ The following extract will give some idea of Scott’s
style at its best. It lacks suppleness, but it is powerful, solid, and
sure. In his use of the Scottish vernacular he is exceedingly natural
and vivacious. His characters who employ the Scottish dialect, such
as Cuddie Headrigg or Jeanie Deans, owe much of their freshness and
attraction to Scott’s happy use of their native speech:

Fergus, as the presiding judge was putting on the fatal cap of
judgment, placed his own bonnet upon his head, regarded him with
a steadfast and stern look, and replied in a firm voice: “I
cannot let this numerous audience suppose that to such an appeal
I have no answer to make. But what I have to say you would
not bear to hear, for my defence would be your condemnation.
Proceed, then, in the name of God, to do what is permitted to
you. Yesterday and the day before you have condemned loyal and
honourable blood to be poured forth like water. Spare not mine.
Were that of all my ancestors in my veins, I would have perilled
it in this quarrel.” He resumed his seat, and refused again to
rise.

Evan Maccombich looked at him with great earnestness, and,
rising up, seemed anxious to speak; but the confusion of the
court and the perplexity arising from thinking in a language
different from that in which he was to express himself, kept him
silent. There was a murmur of compassion among the spectators,
from the idea that the poor fellow intended to plead the
influence of his superior as an excuse for his crime. The judge
commanded silence, and encouraged Evan to proceed.

“I was only ganging to say, my lord,” said Evan, in what he
meant to be an insinuating manner, “that if your excellent
Honour and the honourable court would let Vich Ian Vohr go
free just this once, and let him gae back to France, and no to
trouble King George’s government again, ony six o’ the very best
of his clan will be willing to be justified in his stead; and if
you’ll just let me gae down to Glennaquoich, I’ll fetch them up
to ye mysell, to head or hang, and you may begin wi’ me the very
first man.”
_Waverley_

JANE AUSTEN (1775–1817)

=1. Her Life.= Jane Austen was the daughter of a Hampshire clergyman.
She was educated at home; her father was a man of good taste in the
choice of reading material, and Jane’s education was conducted on sound
lines. Her life was unexciting, being little more than a series of
pilgrimages to different places of residence, including the fashionable
resort of Bath (1801). On the death of the rector his wife and two
daughters removed to the neighbourhood of Southampton, where the
majority of Jane Austen’s novels were written. Her first published
works were issued anonymously, and she died in middle age, before her
merits had received anything like adequate recognition.

=2. Her Novels.= The chronology of Miss Austen’s novels is not
easy to follow, for her earliest works were the last to be published.
In what follows we shall take the books approximately in their order of
composition, not of publication.

Her first novel was _Northanger Abbey_, which was finished in 1798,
but not published till 1818, after her death. The book begins as a
burlesque of the Radcliffe type of the terror novel, which was then
all the rage. The heroine, after a visit to Bath, is invited to an
abbey, where she imagines romantic possibilities, but is in the end
ludicrously undeceived. The incidents in the novel are ingloriously
commonplace, and the characters flatly average. Yet the treatment is
deft and touched with the finest needle-point of satiric observation.
The style is smooth and unobtrusive, but covers a delicate pricking of
irony that is agreeable and masterly in its quiet way. Nothing quite
like it had appeared before in the novel.

In _Pride and Prejudice_ (1797) the same methods are to be seen. We
have the same middle-class people pursuing the common round. The
heroine is a girl of spirit, but she has no extraordinary qualities;
the pride and prejudice of rank and wealth are gently but pleasingly
titillated, as if they are being subjected to an electric current of
carefully selected intensity. In unobtrusive and dexterous art the book
is considered to be her masterpiece.

_Sense and Sensibility_ (1798) was her third novel, and it followed
the same general lines as its predecessors. Then came a long pause,
for she could find no publisher to issue her work. The first to see
print was the last mentioned, which appeared in 1811. Stimulated to
further effort, in quick succession she wrote _Mansfield Park_ (1814),
_Emma_ (1816), and _Persuasion_ (1818). The latter group are of the
type of the others; if there is development it is seen in the still
more inflexible avoidance of anything that is unusual or startling. The
novels are all much the same, yet subtly and artistically different.

=3. Features of her Novels.= (_a_) _Her Plots._ Her plots are severely
unromantic. Her first work, beginning as a burlesque of the horrible
in fiction, finishes by being an excellent example of her ideal novel.
As her art develops, even the slight casualties of common life--such
an incident, for example, as the elopement that appears in _Pride and
Prejudice_--become rarer; with the result that the later novels, such
as _Emma_, are the pictures of everyday existence. Only the highest art
can make such plots attractive, and Jane Austen’s does so.

(_b_) Her _characters_ are developed with minuteness and accuracy.
They are ordinary people, but are convincingly alive. She is fond of
introducing clergymen, all of whom strike the reader as being exactly
like clergymen, though each has his own individual characteristics. She
has many characters of the first class, like the servile Mr. Collins
in _Pride and Prejudice_, the garrulous Miss Bates in _Emma_, and the
selfish and vulgar John Thorpe in _Northanger Abbey_. Her characters
are not types, but individuals. Her method of portrayal is based upon
acute observation and a quiet but incisive irony. Her male characters
have a certain softness of thew and temper, but her female characters
are almost unexceptionable in perfection of finish.

(_c_) Her _place in the history of fiction_ is remarkable. Her
qualities are of a kind that are slow to be recognized, for there is
nothing loud or garish to catch the casual glance. The taste for this
kind of fiction has to be acquired, but once it is acquired it remains
strong. Jane Austen has won her way to a foremost place, and she will
surely keep it.

We add a short extract to illustrate her clear and careful style, her
skill in handling conversation, and the quiet irony of her method.

(_Catherine Morland, the heroine of the novel, is introduced
to the society of Bath, where she cuts rather a lonely figure
till she meets a young man called Tilney--“not quite handsome,
but very near it.” The following is part of their conversation
at a dance._)

After chatting some time on such matters as naturally arose from
the objects around them, he suddenly addressed her with--“I have
hitherto been very remiss, madam, in the proper attentions of a
partner here; I have not yet asked you how long you have been in
Bath; whether you were ever here before; whether you have been
at the Upper Rooms, the theatre, and the concert; and how you
like the place altogether. I have been very negligent--but are
you now at leisure to satisfy me in these particulars? If you
are I will begin directly.”

“You need not give yourself that trouble, sir.”

“No trouble, I assure you, madam.” Then forming his features
into a set smile, and affectedly softening his voice, he added,
with a simpering air, “Have you been long in Bath, madam?”

“About a week, sir,” replied Catherine, trying not to laugh.

“Really!” with affected astonishment.

“Why should you be surprised, sir?”

“Why, indeed!” said he, in his natural tone; “but some emotion
must appear to be raised by your reply, and surprise is more
easily assumed, and not less reasonable, than any other.--Now
let us go on. Were you never here before, madam?”

“Never, sir.”

“Indeed! Have you yet honoured the Upper Rooms?”

“Yes, sir, I was there last Monday.”

“Have you been to the theatre?”

“Yes, sir, I was at the play on Tuesday.”

“To the concert?”

“Yes, sir, on Wednesday.”

“And are you altogether pleased with Bath?”

“Yes--I like it very well.”

“Now I must give one smirk, and then we may be rational again.”
_Northanger Abbey_

OTHER NOVELISTS

=1. Maria Edgeworth (1767–1849).= This novelist was born in County
Longford, Ireland. Her life is largely the catalogue of her books,
which are numerous, varied, and in quality very unequal. Her best
novels deal with Irish life. They were warmly praised by Scott,
who declared that they gave him ideas for his own stories. _Castle
Rackrent_ (1800) is successful in its dealing with Irish characters;
_Lenora_ (1806) shows a good deal of power; _Tales of Fashionable Life_
(1809) contains much of her best work, including _The Absentee_, which
is commonly considered her masterpiece. Other works are _Patronage_
(1814), _Harrington_ (1817), and _Ormand_ (1817). Her type of fiction
is lively and agreeable, except when she indulges in a shallow kind of
moralizing. In her day her popularity ran a close second to Scott’s,
but now only a slight flicker survives.

=2. John Galt (1779–1839)= was born in Ayrshire, and there he passed
the early years of his life, afterward removing to Greenock. He
studied for the Bar, but delicate health drove him abroad. After
much traveling he settled in Scotland, and produced a large amount of
literary work. He engaged unsuccessfully in business transactions,
then took once more to writing novels and to journalism. He died at
Greenock, where his career had commenced.

The best of his novels are _The Ayrshire Legatees_ (1820), in the form
of a letter-series, containing much amusing Scottish narrative; _The
Annals of the Parish_ (1821), his masterpiece, which is the record of a
fictitious country minister, doing in prose very much what Crabbe had
done in verse; _The Entail_ (1821); and _The Provost_ (1822). Galt had
a vigorous style and abundant imagination, with a great deal of humor
and sympathetic observation. He is too haphazard and uneven to be a
great novelist, though he has value as a painter of Scottish manners.

=3. William Harrison Ainsworth (1805–82)= was an early imitator of
Scott. He wrote a great number of novels, which cover many periods
of English history. The first was _Sir John Chiverton_ (1825), but
he scored his great success with the Dick Turpin romance _Rookwood_
(1834). A few of the many others were _Jack Sheppard_ (1839), an
immense success, _The Tower of London_ (1840), _Old St. Paul’s_ (1841),
_Windsor Castle_ (1843), _The Star Chamber_ (1854), _The Constable of
the Tower_ (1861), and _Preston Fight_ (1875). Ainsworth possesses
little of Scott’s genius, for his handling of history is crude and
heavy, and consists of throwing in large, undigested lumps of history.
He is feeble in his treatment of his characters, but when he is in
the right vein he can give the reader a vigorous narrative and a fair
quality of description.

=4. George P. R. James (1801–60)= was another follower of the method of
Scott, and he was responsible for a hundred and eighty-nine volumes,
chiefly novels. He was born in London; traveled abroad; settled down
to novel-writing; on the strength of some serious historical work was
appointed Historiographer Royal; entered the consular service; and died
at Venice.

_Richelieu_ (1828), which bears a strong resemblance to _Quentin
Durward_, was his earliest, and is by many considered to be his best,
novel. Others include _Darnley_ (1830), _De l’Orme_ (1830), _The Gipsy_
(1835), and _Lady Montague’s Page_ (1858). As was almost inevitable
with such mass-production, he makes his novels on a stock pattern. He
is fond of florid pageantry, and can be rather ingeniously mysterious
in his plots. He has little power in dealing with his characters, and
no imaginative grasp of history. In style he is undistinguished, but
fluent and clear.

=5. Charles Lever (1806–72).= Lever was born in Dublin, was educated at
Trinity College and Göttingen, and became a physician. The success of
his novels caused him to desert his profession, and in the course of
time (1842) he became editor of _The Dublin University Magazine_, which
had published his first stories. In his latter years he lived abroad,
was appointed consul in Sardinia (1858), and after some other changes
died when consul at Trieste.

_Harry Lorrequer_ (1839), his first novel, made a great hit. It is
a novel of the picaresque type, dealing with the adventures of the
hare-brained but lovable hero. _Charles O’Malley_ (1841) is of the same
species, and others are _Jack Hinton_ (1842) and _Tom Burke of Ours_
(1844). The scenes of these novels are pitched in Ireland; there is
little plot, what there is consisting of the scrapes of the heroes; the
humor is rough-and-tumble, though agreeably lively; and the heroes,
who are all much the same, are amiable fellows, with a propensity
for falling into trouble and falling out of it. A later class of
Lever’s novels was more of the historical cast, and includes _The
O’Donovan_ (1845) and _The Knight of Gwynne_ (1847). Others dealt with
the Continent, and include _The Dodd Family Abroad_ (1854) and _The
Fortunes of Glencore_ (1857). These latter are more stable and serious,
and as novels are better than the earlier groups.

=6. Frederick Marryat (1792–1848)= followed the Smollett tradition
of writing sea-stories. He was born in London, entered the Navy at an
early age (1806), and saw some fighting just before the conclusion of
the Napoleonic Wars. He saw further service in different parts of the
world, rose to be a captain, and spent much of his later life writing
the novels that have given him his place in literature.

His earliest novel was _The Naval Officer_ (1829), a loose and
disconnected narrative, which was followed by _The King’s Own_ (1830),
a much more able piece of work. From this point he continued to produce
fiction at a great rate. The best of his stories are _Jacob Faithful_
(1834), _Peter Simple_ (1834), _Japhet in Search of a Father_ (1836),
_Mr. Midshipman Easy_ (1836), and _Masterman Ready_ (1841). All his
best books deal with the sea, and have much of its breeziness. Marryat
has a considerable gift for plain narrative, and his humor, though
it is often coarse, is entertaining. His characters are of the stock
types, but they are lively and suit his purpose, which is to produce a
good yarn.

=7. Michael Scott (1789–1835)= was another novelist whose favorite
theme was the sea. Scott was not a sailor like Marryat, but a merchant,
first in Jamaica and then in his native city of Glasgow. His two tales,
_Tom Cringle’s Log_ (1829) and _The Cruise of the Midge_ (1834), were
published in _Blackwood’s Magazine_. They have attempts at fine writing
which Marryat did not aspire to, and are none the better for it, for
Scott seldom succeeds in being impressive. His actual nautical details
lack the intimacy and freshness of Marryat’s. He was, however, a gifted
story-teller, and his tales are rarely dull.

=8. Benjamin Disraeli (1804–81), Lord Beaconsfield=, was a Londoner of
Jewish race, and after many struggles and failures rose to be leader of
the Tory party in Parliament and Prime Minister. His political career
does not concern us here.

He began his literary career as a novelist. _Vivian Grey_ (1826)
soon set the fashionable world talking of its author. It dealt with
fashionable society, it was brilliant and witty, and it had an easy
arrogance that amused, incensed, and attracted at the same time.
The general effect of cutting sarcasm was varied, but not improved,
by passages of florid description and sentimental moralizing. His
next effort was _The Voyage of Captain Popanilla_ (1829), a modern
_Gulliver’s Travels_. The wit is very incisive, and the satire, though
it lacks the solid weight of Swift’s, is sure and keen. Disraeli
wrote a good number of other novels, the most notable of which were
_Contarini Fleming_ (1831), _Henrietta Temple_ (1837), _Coningsby_
(1844), _Sybil_ (1845), and _Tancred_ (1847). These last books, written
when experience of public affairs had added depth to his vision and
edge to his satire, are polished and powerful novels dealing with
the politics of his day. At times they are too brilliant, for the
continual crackle of epigram dazzles and wearies, and his tawdry taste
leads him to overload his ornamental passages. Disraeli also carried
further the idea of _Captain Popanilla_ by writing _Alroy_ (1832),
_Ixion in Heaven_ (1833), and _The Infernal Marriage_, which are half
allegorical, half supernatural, but wholly satirical romances. In style
the prose is inflated, but the later novels sometimes have flashes of
real passion and insight.

=9. Edward Bulwer-Lytton (1805–73)= was the son of General Bulwer.
On the death of his mother he succeeded to her estate and took the
name of Lytton, later becoming Lord Lytton. He was at first educated
privately, and then at Cambridge, where he won a prize for English
verse. He had a long and successful career both as a literary man and
as a politician. He entered Parliament, was created in turn a baronet
and a peer, and for a time held Cabinet rank.

His earliest efforts in literature were rather feeble imitations of
the Byronic manner. His first novel was _Falkland_ (1827), which
was published anonymously, and then came _Pelham_ (1828). These are
pictures of current society, and are immature in their affectation
of wit and cynicism. They contain some clever things, but they lack
the real merit of the early novels of Disraeli. Another of the same
kind was _Devereux_ (1829). _Paul Clifford_ (1830) changed the scene
to the haunts of vice and crime, but was not at all convincing.
Lytton now took to writing historical novels, the best of which were
_The Last Days of Pompeii_ (1834), _Rienzi_ (1835), and _Harold_
(1848). They are rather garish, but clever and attractive, and they
had great popularity. He did not neglect the domestic novel, writing
_The Caxtons_ (1849) and _My Novel_ (1853); and the terror and
supernatural species were ably represented by _A Strange Story_ (1862)
and _The Coming Race_ (1871). Lytton is never first-rate, but he is
astonishingly versatile, and, considering the speed of his production,
his books are of a high quality. His plays, such as _Richelieu_ (1839)
and _Money_ (1840), had great success.

CHARLES LAMB (1775–1834)

=1. His Life.= Lamb was born in London, his father being a kind of
factotum to a Bencher of the Middle Temple. The boy, who was a timid
and retiring youth, was educated at Christ’s Hospital, where he was a
fellow-pupil of Coleridge, whose early eccentricities he has touched
upon with his usual felicity. He would have entered the Church, but
an impediment in his speech made such a course impossible; instead he
obtained a clerkship first in the South Sea House, then (1792) in the
East India House, where the remainder of his working life was spent.
There was a strain of madness in the family which did not leave him
untouched, for in 1795–96 he was under restraint for a time. In the
case of his sister, Mary Lamb, the curse was a deadly one. In September
1796 she murdered her mother in a sudden frenzy, and thereafter she
had intermittent attacks of insanity. Lamb devoted his life to the
welfare of his afflicted sister, who frequently appears in his essays
under the name of Cousin Bridget. After more than thirty years’ service
Lamb retired (1825) on a pension, and the last ten years of his life
were passed in blessed release from his desk. He was a charming man,
a delightful talker, and one of the least assuming of writers. His
reputation, based upon his qualities of humor, pathos, and cheery
goodwill, is unsurpassed in our literature.

=2. His Essays.= Lamb started his literary career as a poet, producing
short pieces of moderate ability, including the well-known _The Old
Familiar Faces_ and _To Hester_. He attempted a tragedy, _John Woodvil_
(1801), in the style of his favorite Elizabethan playwrights, but it
had no success on the stage. His _Tales from Shakespeare_ (1807),
written in collaboration with his sister, are skillfully done, and are
agreeable to read. His critical work, narrow in scope, is remarkable
for its delicate insight and good literary taste. All these writings,
however, are of little importance compared with his essays.

The first of his essays appeared in _The London Magazine_ in 1820,
when Lamb was forty-five years old. It was signed “Elia,” a name
taken almost at random as that of an old foreigner who used to haunt
the South Sea House. The series continued till October 1822, and was
published as _The Essays of Elia_ (1823). A second series lasted from
May 1824 to August 1825, and was published under the title of _The Last
Essays of Elia_ (1833).

The essays are unequaled in English. In subject they are of the usual
miscellaneous kind, ranging from chimneysweeps to old china. They are,
however, touched with personal opinions and recollections so oddly
obtruded that interest in the subject is nearly swamped by the reader’s
delight in the author. No essayist is more egotistical than Lamb; but
no egotist can be so artless and yet so artful, so tearful and yet so
mirthful, so pedantic and yet so humane. It is this delicate clashing
of humors, like the chiming of sweet bells, that affords the chief
delight to Lamb’s readers.

It is almost impossible to do justice to his style. It is
old-fashioned, bearing echoes and odors from older writers like Sir
Thomas Browne and Fuller; it is full of long and curious words; and
it is dashed with frequent exclamations and parentheses. The humor
that runs through it all is not strong, but airy, almost elfish, in
note; it vibrates faintly, but in application never lacks precision.
His pathos is of much the same character; and sometimes, as in
_Dream-Children_, it deepens into a quivering sigh of regret. He
is so sensitive and so strong, so cheerful and yet so unalteringly
doomed to sorrow.

The extract given below deals with the playhouse, which was one of
his greatest passions. The reader can easily observe some of the
above-mentioned features of his style.

In those days were pit orders. Beshrew the uncomfortable manager
who abolished them!--with one of these we went. I remember
the waiting at the door--not that which is left--but between
that and an inner door in shelter--O when shall I be such an
expectant again!--with the cry of nonpareils, an indispensable
playhouse accompaniment in those days. As near as I can
recollect, the fashionable pronunciation of the theatrical
fruiteresses then was, “Chase some oranges, chase some
num-parels, chase a bill of the play;”--chase _pro_ chuse.
But when we got in, and I beheld the green curtain that veiled
a heaven to my imagination, which was soon to be disclosed--the
breathless anticipations I endured! I had seen something like it
in the plate prefixed to _Troilus and Cressida_, in Rowe’s
Shakespeare--the tent scene with Diomede--and a sight of that
plate can always bring back in a measure the feeling of that
evening.--The boxes at that time, full of well-dressed women of
quality, projected over the pit; and the pilasters reaching down
were adorned with a glistering substance (I know not what) under
glass (as it seemed), resembling--a homely fancy--but I judged
it to be sugar-candy--yet, to my raised imagination, divested
of its homelier qualities, it appeared a glorified candy!--The
orchestra lights at length arose, those “fair Auroras!” Once the
bell sounded. It was to ring out yet once again--and, incapable
of the anticipation, I reposed my shut eyes in a sort of
resignation upon the maternal lap. It rang the second time. The
curtain drew up--I was not past six years old--and the play was
_Artaxerxes_!
_My First Play_

THOMAS DE QUINCEY (1785–1859)

=1. His Life.= De Quincey was born at Manchester, where his father
was a rich merchant. The elder De Quincey left considerable property,
but De Quincey himself was improvident and unreliable in his financial
affairs. He was educated first at Manchester Grammar School and then
at Oxford. There he studied for a long time (1803–8), distinguishing
himself by his ability in Greek. While he was an undergraduate (1804)
he first became acquainted with opium, soaking his tobacco in the drug
and then smoking it in order to alleviate the pains of neuralgia. His
money was always easily spent, and his early struggles were a painful
effort to make both ends meet. He earned a precarious livelihood by
journalism, and lived for a long time (1809–30) in the Lake District,
becoming intimate with the local literary celebrities. During this time
his devotion to the drug was excessive, but he produced a large amount
of work. Then, becoming loosely attached to the staff of _Blackwood’s
Magazine_, he removed to Edinburgh. In this neighborhood he remained
till the end of his long life, and was buried in the Scottish capital.

=2. His Works.= De Quincey is one of the authors whose work is to
be rigorously sifted. He wrote a large amount of prose; most of it is
hack-work, a fair proportion is of good quality, and a small amount is
of the highest merit. He wrote no book of any great length, in this
respect resembling another opium-eater, Coleridge.

The book that made his name was his _Confessions of an English
Opium-Eater_ (1821), which appeared in _The London Magazine_. The work,
which is chaotic in its general plan, is a series of visions that melt
away in the manner of dreams. Much is tawdry and unreal, but the book
contains passages of great power and beauty. The remainder of his
work is a mass of miscellaneous production, the best of which is _The
English Mail-coach_, _Suspiria de Profundis_, and _Murder considered as
One of the Fine Arts_.

A great part of his work is dreary and diffuse, and vitiated by a humor
that is extremely flat and ineffective. He displays a wide range of
knowledge, though it is often flawed with inaccuracy. In style he is
apt to stumble into vulgarity and tawdriness; but when inspiration
descends upon him he gives to the English tongue a wonderful strength
and sweetness. In these rare moments he plunges into an elaborate style
and imagery, but never loses grip, sweeping along with sureness and
ease. In rhythm and melody he is almost supreme; he can “blow through
bronze” and “breathe through silver,” and be impressive in both.

The passage we now give is among his most impressive efforts. It has
the unity and passion of the lyric, and its effect is both thrilling
and profound. Observe the studied rhythm, often ejaculatory, the deep
and solemn beauty, and the simplicity of diction. This is poetic prose
at its best:

As a final specimen, I cite one of a different character, from
1820.

The dream commenced with a music which now I often heard in
dreams--a music of preparation and of awakening suspense; a
music like the opening of the coronation anthem, and which,
like _that_, gave the feeling of a vast march--of infinite
cavalcades filing off--and the tread of innumerable armies. The
morning was come of a mighty day--a day of crisis and of final
hope for human nature, then suffering some mysterious eclipse,
and labouring in some dread extremity. Somewhere, I knew not
where--somehow, I knew not how--by some beings, I knew not
whom--a battle, a strife, an agony was conducting--was evolving
like a great drama, or piece of music; with which my sympathy
was the more insupportable from my confusion as to its place,
its cause, its nature, and its possible issue. I, as is usual in
dreams (where, of necessity, we make ourselves central to every
movement), had the power, and yet had not the power, to decide
it. I had the power, if I could raise myself, to will it; and
yet again had not the power, for the weight of twenty Atlantics
was upon me, or the oppression of inexpiable guilt. “Deeper than
ever plummet sounded,” I lay inactive.

Then, like a chorus, the passion deepened. Some great interest
was at stake; some mightier cause than ever yet the sword
had pleaded, or trumpet had proclaimed. Then came sudden
alarms: hurryings to and fro: trepidations of innumerable
fugitives, I knew not whether from the good cause or the
bad: darkness, and lights: tempest, and human faces; and at
last, with the sense that all was lost, female forms, and the
features that were worth all the world to me, and but a moment
allowed,--and clasped hands, and heart-breaking partings, and
then--everlasting farewells! and with a sigh, such as the caves
of hell sighed when Sin uttered the abhorred name of Death, the
sound was reverberated--everlasting farewells! and again, and
yet again reverberated--everlasting farewells!

And I awoke in struggles, and cried aloud--“I will sleep no
more!”
_The Confessions of an English Opium-Eater_

WILLIAM HAZLITT (1778–1830)

The period now under review is very rich in critical and miscellaneous
work. Of the writers of literary criticism Hazlitt may be taken as
representative.

=1. His Life.= Hazlitt was born in Shropshire, the son of a
Unitarian minister. His first intention was to be a painter, but he
abandoned the idea and took to letters as a profession. He was a
friend of Coleridge, with whom he shared an ardent admiration for
revolutionary principles. This enthusiasm, and others of a similar
nature, Hazlitt was not slack in expressing; and this habit, added to a
brawling acerbity of temper, made his life largely a series of quarrels
and controversies.

=2. His Works.= His output was very large, and included many political
works. Those that are of importance here are _The Characters of
Shakespeare’s Plays_ (1817), _Lectures on the English Poets_ (1818),
and _The Spirit of the Age_ (1825). His longest work was the _Life of
Napoleon_ (1828) but it was of no great value.

Hazlitt’s criticism, though it is limited in scope to English
literature, shows great ability, shrewd insight, and sanity in its
enthusiasms. It is far more precise and equable than that of Coleridge,
broader and more incisive than Lamb’s, and much more reasoned and
scientific than De Quincey’s. It is often spoilt by his political
views, but when they are allowed for it can be trusted to a great
degree.

His style is admirable for his purpose. It is readable and clear,
and when necessary it can rise into expressing the keen zest that
Hazlitt felt for the good and the wholesome in English literature. The
following extract is of interest as a comparison of Addison and Steele:

It may be said, that all this is to be found, in the same or a
greater degree, in the _Spectator_. For myself, I do not think
so; or, at least, there is in the last work a much greater
proportion of commonplace matter. I have, on this account,
always preferred the _Tatler_ to the _Spectator_. Whether
it is owing to my having been earlier or better acquainted
with the one than the other, my pleasure in reading these two
admirable works is not at all in proportion to their comparative
reputation. The _Tatler_ contains only half the number of
volumes, and, I will venture to say, at least an equal quantity
of sterling wit and sense. “The first sprightly runnings” are
there--it has more of the original spirit, more of the freshness
and stamp of nature. The indications of character and strokes
of humour are more true and frequent; the reflections that
suggest themselves arise more from the occasion, and are less
spun out into regular dissertations. They are more like the
remarks which occur in sensible conversation, and less like a
lecture. Something is left to the understanding of the reader.
Steele seems to have gone into his closet chiefly to set down
what he observed out of doors. Addison seems to have spent most
of his time in his study, and to have spun out and wire-drawn
the hints, which he borrowed from Steele, or took from nature,
to the utmost. I am far from wishing to depreciate Addison’s
talents, but I am anxious to do justice to Steele, who was,
I think, upon the whole, a less artificial and more original
writer. The humorous descriptions of Steele resemble loose
sketches, or fragments of a comedy; those of Addison are rather
comments, or ingenious paraphrases, on the genuine text.
_The English Comic Writers_

OTHER WRITERS OF MISCELLANEOUS PROSE

=1. Francis Jeffrey (1773–1850)=, one of the founders of _The
Edinburgh Review_, was born at Edinburgh, educated at the high
school and university of his native city, and was called to the
Scottish Bar. Though for many years an industrious writer for his
journal, he maintained a considerable legal practice, and distinguished
himself in politics as an ardent Whig and a supporter of the Reform
Bill of 1832. When, after the passage of the Bill, his party came into
office he was rewarded by being appointed Lord Advocate. This meant the
abandonment of his position on the _Review_, though he always kept
a paternal eye on its progress. He was finally appointed to the Bench,
with the title of Lord Jeffrey.

_The Edinburgh Review_ was at first a joint production of a group
of young and zealous Whigs, including Sydney Smith and Dr. John Brown.
After the first number Jeffrey was in sole control, and he drew around
him a band of distinguished contributors, including at one time Sir
Walter Scott and Lockhart. The journal led the way among the larger
reviews, and was noted for its briskness. It was not above prejudice,
as was shown in its opposition to the Lake School, but it did much to
raise the standard of criticism, and it succeeded in bringing much
talent to light, including the early efforts of Macaulay.

=2. Sydney Smith (1771–1845)= was for a time a colleague of Jeffrey.
He was born in Essex, and was the son of a clergyman. He was educated
at Winchester and Oxford, and became a clergyman in his turn. After
traveling on the Continent as a tutor, he settled for a time at
Edinburgh, and assisted in the launching of _The Edinburgh Review_
(1802). He took a large share in the political squabbles of the time,
and wrote much on behalf of the Whig party.

His works consist of many miscellaneous pieces, most of them of a
political character. The most noteworthy of them is a collection called
_The Letters of Peter Plymley_ (1807), which deals with Catholic
Emancipation. A more general selection from his writings was published
in 1855, and his _Wit and Wisdom_ in 1861. Nowadays it is somewhat
difficult to account for his great influence, for he has left so little
of real merit; but to his own contemporaries he was a very important
person. He was admired and feared as a wit, and some of his best
witticisms have been preserved. He was always a gentlemanly opponent,
always easy but deadly in the shafts leveled against his political
foes. He wrote the prose of an educated man, and is clear and forcible.

=3. John Wilson (1785–1854)=, who appears in literature as
=Christopher North=, was born at Paisley, the son of a wealthy
manufacturer. He was educated at Glasgow and Oxford, wrote poetry,
and for a time settled in the Lake District. He lost most of his
money, tried practice as a barrister, and then joined the staff of
_Blackwood’s Magazine_. He was appointed in 1820 Professor of
Moral Philosophy at Edinburgh University.

His early poems, _The Isle of Palms_ (1812) and _The City of the
Plague_ (1816), are passable verse of the romantic type. His
novels--for example, _The Trials of Margaret Lyndsay_ (1823)--are
sentimental pictures of Scottish life. His longest work, and the one
that perpetuates his name, is his _Noctes Ambrosianæ_ (beginning in
1822), which had a long and popular run in _Blackwood’s_. This is
an immensely long series of dialogues on many kinds of subjects.
The characters are the members of a small club who meet regularly,
consume great quantities of meat and drink, and frequently indulge in
immoderate clowning. The talk is endless, and is often tedious in the
extreme. At times Wilson rises into striking descriptive passages,
more florid and less impressive than De Quincey’s, but beautiful in a
sentimental fashion. His taste, however, cannot be trusted, and his
humor is too often crude and boisterous.

=4. John G. Lockhart (1794–1854)= was born at Cambusnethan, educated at
Glasgow and Oxford, and became a member of the Scottish Bar. He soon
(1817) became a regular contributor to _Blackwood’s Magazine_, sharing
in its strong Tory views and its still stronger expression of them. He
rather gloried in these literary and political fisticuffs, which in one
case led to actual bloodshed, though he did not participate in it. In
1820 he married Scott’s favorite daughter Sophia, and lived to be the
biographer of his famous father-in-law. He was editor of _The Quarterly
Review_ from 1826 till 1852.

Lockhart wrote four novels, the best of which are _Valerius_ (1821)
and _Adam Blair_ (1822). They are painstaking endeavors, but they
lack the fire of genius, and are now almost forgotten. His poetry is
quite lively and attractive, especially his _Spanish Ballads_ (1821).
_Peter’s Letters to his Kinsfolk_ (1819) is a collection of brilliant
sketches of Edinburgh society. Lockhart’s fame, however, rests on _The
Life of Scott_ (1837–38), which was first published in seven volumes.
This book ranks as one of the great biographies in the language. Though
it is full of intimate and loving detail, it possesses a fine sense
of perspective and coherence; and while it is influenced by a natural
partiality for its subject, the story is judiciously told. In this book
Lockhart casts aside his aggressiveness of manner. His descriptions,
as, for example, that of the death of Scott, have a masterly touch.

=5. William Cobbett (1762–1835)= was born at Farnham, Surrey, and
was the son of a farm-laborer. He enlisted in the Army, rose to be
sergeant-major, emigrated to America, where he took to journalism, and
returned to England, to become actively engaged in politics. In 1835 he
was elected to Parliament, but was not a success as a public man. He
was a man of violent opinions, boxed the political compass, and died an
extreme Radical.

He was an assiduous journalist, beginning with _Peter Porcupine’s
Journal_ (1801). His other paper was his _Political Register_, which he
began in 1802 and carried on till 1835. His further literary work is
contained in his _Rural Rides in England_. He writes with an unaffected
simplicity that reminds the reader of Bunyan, and his descriptions of
contemporary England are clear and forcible.

=6.= The =historians= belonging to this period are both numerous and
important, but we can mention only a few.

(_a_) =Henry Hart Milman (1791–1868)= was educated at Eton and Oxford,
and afterward wrote some plays, including the tragedy _Fazio_ (1817).
His chief historical works are _The History of the Jews_ (1829) and
_The History of Latin Christianity_ (1856). Milman is a solid and
reliable historian, with a readable style.

(_b_) =George Grote (1794–1871)= was a London banker, and entered
politics. His _History of Greece_ (1846–56) is based on German
research, and is well informed and scholarly. The work, however, is
sometimes considered to be too long and tedious in its detail.

(_c_) =Henry Hallam (1777–1859)= was a member of the Middle Temple,
but he practiced very little. He wrote on both literary and historical
subjects, and contributed to _The Edinburgh Review_. His historical
works include _A Constitutional History of England_ (1827) and _An
Introduction to the Literature of Europe_ (1838–39). Hallam acquired
a great and deserved reputation for solid scholarship. Like Gibbon,
he tried to attune his style to his subject, and wrote in a grave and
impressive manner, but, lacking the genius of Gibbon, he succeeded only
in making his style lifeless and frigid.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

The amount of actual development during this period was not so great
as the immense output. Authors were content with the standard literary
forms, and it was upon these as models that the development took place.

=1. Poetry.= (_a_) This was indeed the golden age of the _lyric_,
which reflected the Romantic spirit of the time in liberal and varied
measure. It comprised the exalted passion of Shelley, the meditative
simplicity of Wordsworth, the sumptuous descriptions of Keats, and the
golden notes of Coleridge. It is to be noted that in form the lyric
employed the ancient externals of the stereotyped meters and rhymes.
There was some attempt at rhymeless poems in the work of Southey and
the early poems of Shelley, but this practice was never general.

(_b_) With _descriptive and narrative poems_ the age was richly
endowed. One has only to recall Byron’s early work, Keats’s tales,
Coleridge’s supernatural stories, and Scott’s martial and historical
romances to perceive how rich was the harvest. Once more the poets
work upon older methods. The Spenserian stanza is the favorite model,
but the ballad is nearly as popular. These older types suffered some
change, as was almost inevitable with such inspired minds at work
upon them. The Spenserian manner was loosened and strengthened; it was
given richer and more varied beauties in _The Eve of St. Agnes_, and
a sharper and more personal note in the _Childe Harold_ of Byron. In
the case of Wordsworth we observe the frequent use of blank verse for
meditative purposes, as in _The Prelude_.

(_c_) _Satirical poems_ were numerous; and their tone was fierce, for
the success of the French Revolution led to the expression of new hopes
and desires. Outstanding examples were Byron’s _Don Juan_ and _The
Vision of Judgment_ and Shelley’s _Masque of Anarchy_.

=2. Drama.= Drama was written as freely as ever, but rather as a form
of literary exercise than as a serious attempt at creating a new
dramatic standard. Tragedy almost monopolized the activities of the
major poets. Of all the tragedies Shelley’s _Cenci_ came first in power
and simplicity. Byron’s tragedies had little merit as dramas; and
Wordsworth’s _Borderers_ and Coleridge’s _Remorse_ added little to the
fame of their authors.

The comic spirit in drama was in abeyance. Shelley’s _Œdipus Tyrannus,
or Swellfoot the Tyrant_, is almost the only instance of it worth
mention, and this was a poor specimen of that writer’s creative power.

=3. Prose.= (_a_) _The Novel._ Of the different kinds of prose
composition, the novel showed in this period the most marked
development. This was largely due to the work of Scott and Jane Austen,
who respectively established the historical and domestic types of novel.

With regard to the work of Scott, we can here only briefly summarize
what has already been said. He raised the historical novel to the rank
of one of the major kinds of literature; he brought to it knowledge,
and through the divine gift of knowledge made it true to life; he fired
historical characters with living energy; he set on foot the device
of the unhistorical hero--that is, he made the chief character purely
fictitious, and caused the historical persons to rotate about it; he
established a style that suited many periods of history; and pervading
all these advances was a great and genial personality that transformed
what might have been mere lumber into an artistic product of truth and
beauty.

Miss Austen’s achievement was of a different kind. She revealed the
beauty and interest that underlie ordinary affairs; she displayed the
infinite variety of common life, and so she opened an inexhaustible
vein that her successors were assiduously to develop.

Most of the other novelists of the time were either imitators of Scott,
like James and Ainsworth, or a combination of Scott and Miss Austen,
like Bulwer-Lytton. Disraeli developed a rather different species in
his brilliant society novels, which depended for their chief effects
on satiric insight and caustic epigram. _Tancred_ is probably the
best of this species.

(_b_) _Periodical Literature._ At the beginning of this chapter we
noted the chief members of a great new community of literary journals.
These periodicals were of a new type. Previous literary journals, like
_The Gentleman’s Magazine_ (1731), had been feeble productions, the
work of elegant amateurs or underpaid hack-writers. Such papers had
little weight. The new journals were supreme in the literary world;
they attracted the best talent; they inspired fear and respect; and
in spite of many defects their literary product was worthy of their
reputation.

(_c_) _The Essay._ Finding a fresh outlet in the new type of
periodical, the essay acquired additional importance. The purely
literary essay, exemplified in the works of Southey, Hazlitt,
and Lockhart, increased in length and solidity. It now became a
review--that is, a commentary on a book or books under immediate
inspection, but in addition expounding the wider theories and opinions
of the reviewer. This new species of essay was to be developed still
further in the works of Carlyle and Macaulay.

The miscellaneous essay, represented in the works of Lamb, likewise,
acquired an increased dignity. It was growing beyond the limits set by
Addison and Johnson. It was more labored and aspiring, and contained
many more mannerisms of the author. This kind also was to develop in
the hands of the succeeding generation.

(_d_) Other prose works must receive scanty notice. The art of
letter-writing still flourished, as can be seen in the works of Byron,
Shelley, and Lamb. Lamb in particular has a charm that reminds the
reader of that of Cowper. Byron’s letters, though egotistical enough,
are breezy and humorous.

Biographical work is adequately represented in _The Life of Byron_,
by Moore, and _The Life of Scott_, by Lockhart. These books in their
general outlines follow the model of Boswell, though they do not
possess the artless self-revelation of their great predecessor.
There is an advance shown by their division into chapters and other
convenient stages, a useful arrangement that Boswell did not adopt.

The amount of historical research was very great, and the historians
ranged abroad and tilled many fields; but in their general methods
there was little advance on the work of their predecessors.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE

=1. Poetry.= This period being instinct with the spirit of revolt,
it may be taken for granted that in poetic style there is a great range
of effort and experiment. The general tendency is toward simplicity
of diction and away from the mannerisms of the eighteenth century. In
the case of the major poets, the one who comes nearest in style to the
eighteenth century is Byron; next to him, in spite of his theories of
simplicity, comes Wordsworth, who has a curious inflation of style that
is kept within bounds only by his intense imaginative power. The best
work of Coleridge and Shelley is marked by the greatest simplicity;
but, on the other hand, Keats is too fond of golden diction to resist
the temptation to be ornate.

=2. Prose.= In this period we behold the dissolution of the more
formal prose style of the previous century. With this process the
journalists and miscellaneous prose-writers have much to do. In the
place of the older type we see a general tendency toward a useful
middle style, as in the books of Southey and Hazlitt. Outside this
mass of middle prose we have a range from the greatest simplicity to
the highest efforts of poetic prose. At one end of the scale we have
the perfectly plain style of Cobbett. The passage we give (from the
_Rural Rides_) could not be simpler, but it is energetic and
expressive:

When I returned to England in 1800, after an absence from the
country parts of it for sixteen years, the trees, the hedges,
even the parks and woods, seemed so small! It made me laugh to
hear little gutters, that I could jump over, called rivers. The
Thames was but a ‘creek!’ But when in about a month after my
arrival in London, I went to Farnham, the place of my birth,
what was my surprise! Every thing was become so pitifully small!
I had to cross in my postchaise the long and dreary heath of
Bagshot. Then at the end of it, to mount a hill called Hungry
Hill: and from that hill I knew that I should look down into the
beautiful and fertile vale of Farnham. My heart fluttered with
impatience, mixed with a sort of fear, to see all the scenes of
my childhood; for I had learned before the death of my father
and mother.

From Cobbett we range through a large number of writers, like Lockhart
and Miss Austen, who write in the usual middle style to the more
labored manner of Scott, who in his descriptive passages adopts a kind
of Johnsonese. When he writes in the Scots dialect he writes simply
and clearly, but in his heavier moods we have a style like that which
follows. Note the long and complicated sentences, and the labored
diction.

The brow of the hill, on which the Royal Life-Guards were now
drawn up, sloped downwards (on the side opposite to that which
they had ascended) with a gentle declivity for more than a
quarter of a mile, and presented ground which, though unequal in
some places, was not altogether unfavourable for the manœuvres
of cavalry, until near the bottom, when the slope terminated
in a marshy level, traversed through its whole length by what
seemed either a natural gully or a deep artificial drain, the
sides of which were broken by springs, trenches filled with
water, out of which peats and turf had been dug, and here
and there by some straggling thickets of alders, which loved
the moistness so well that they continued to live as bushes,
although too much dwarfed by the sour soil and the stagnant
bog-water to ascend into trees. Beyond this ditch or gully the
ground arose into a second heathy swell, or rather hill, near to
the foot of which, and as if with the object of defending the
broken ground and ditch that covered their front, the body of
insurgents appeared to be drawn up with the purpose of abiding
battle.
_Old Mortality_

From Scott the evolution of style can be traced through the mannered,
half-humorous ornateness of Lamb to the florid poetic prose of Wilson
and the dithyrambic periods of De Quincey. As a final specimen we give
an extract from the _Noctes Ambrosianæ_. The style is fervidly
exclamatory, but it lacks the depth of De Quincey’s at its best.

_Shepherd._ Oh that I had been a sailor! To hae
circumnavigated the world! To hae pitched our tents, or built
our bowers, on the shores o’ bays sae glittering wi’ league-long
wreaths o’ shells, that the billows blushed crimson as they
murmured! To hae seen our flags burning meteor-like, high up
among the primeval woods, while birds, bright as bunting, sat
trimming their plumage amang the cordage, sae tame in that
island where ship had haply never touched before, nor ever might
touch again, lying in a latitude by itself, and far out of the
breath o’ the tradewinds! Or to hae landed with a’ the crew,
marines and a’--except a guard on shipboard to keep aff the
crowd o’ canoes--on some warlike isle, tossing wi’ the plumes on
chieftain’s heads, and sound--sound--sounding wi’ gongs! What’s
a man-o’-war’s barge, Mr Tickler, beautiful sight tho’ it be, to
the hundred-oared canoe o’ some savage Island-king!

TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

EXERCISES

1. Below are given two extracts on autumn, one written by Keats and one
by Shelley. Compare them carefully with regard to selection of details,
style, and meter. How far does each reflect the nature of its author?

(1) Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease;
For Summer has o’er-brimmed their clammy cells.
KEATS, _Ode to Autumn_

(2) The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,
The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,
And the Year
On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,
Is lying.
Come, Months, come away,
From November to May,
In your saddest array;
Follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.
SHELLEY, _Autumn: A Dirge_

2. From an examination of the following extracts, and from what has
already been said regarding their respective authors, write a brief
account of the style of the authors. How do the extracts compare as
regards clearness, lucidity, and melody?

(1) During the first year that Mr Wordsworth and I were
neighbours, our conversations turned frequently on the two
cardinal points of poetry, the power of exciting the sympathy of
the reader by a faithful adherence to the truth of nature, and
the power of giving the interest of novelty by the modifying
colours of imagination. The sudden charm, which accidents of
light and shade, which moonlight or sunset diffused over a known
and familiar landscape, appeared to represent the practicability
of combining both. These are the poetry of nature. The thought
suggested itself (to which of us I do not recollect) that a
series of poems might be composed of two sorts. In the one, the
incidents and agents were to be, in part at least, supernatural;
and the excellence aimed at was to consist in the interesting of
the affections by the dramatic truth of such emotions, as would
naturally accompany such situations, supposing them real. And
real in this sense they have been to every human being who, from
whatever source of delusion, has at any time believed himself
under supernatural agency. For the second class, subjects were
to be chosen from ordinary life; the characters and incidents
were to be such, as will be found in every village and its
vicinity, where there is a meditative and feeling mind to seek
after them, or to notice them, when they present themselves.
COLERIDGE, _Biographia Literaria_

(2) I thought that it was a Sunday morning in May, that it was
Easter Sunday, and as yet very early in the morning. I was
standing, as it seemed to me, at the door of my own cottage.
Right before me lay the very scene which could really be
commanded from that situation, but exalted, as was usual,
and solemnised by the power of dreams. There were the same
mountains, and the same lovely valley at their feet; but the
mountains were raised to more than alpine height, and there
was interspace far larger between them of meadows and forest
lawns; the hedges were rich with white roses; and no living
creature was to be seen, excepting that in the green churchyard
there were cattle tranquilly reposing upon the verdant graves,
and particularly round about the grave of a child whom I had
tenderly loved, just as I had really beheld them, a little
before sunrise in the same summer, when that child died.
DE QUINCEY,
_The Confessions of an English Opium-Eater_

(3) When a child, what a mysterious pleasure it was to witness
their operation!--to see a chit no bigger than one’s-self enter,
one knew not by what process, into what seemed the _fauces
Averni_--to pursue him in imagination, as he went sounding
on through so many dark stifling caverns, horrid shades!--to
shudder with the idea that “now, surely, he must be lost for
ever!”--to revive at hearing his feeble shout of discovered
daylight--and then (O fulness of delight!) running out of doors,
to come just in time to see the sable phenomenon emerge in
safety, the brandished weapon of his art victorious like some
flag waved over a conquered citadel! I seem to remember having
been told that a bad sweep was once left in a stack with his
brush, to indicate which way the wind blew. It was an awful
spectacle certainly; not much unlike the old stage direction in
_Macbeth_, where the “Apparition of a child crowned, with a
tree in his hand, rises.”
LAMB, _The Praise of Chimney-Sweepers_

(4) If a young reader should ask, after all, What is the best
way of knowing bad poets from good, the best poets from the
next best, and so on? the answer is, the only and two-fold
way; first, the perusal of the best poets with the greatest
attention; and second, the cultivation of that love of truth
and beauty which made them what they are. Every true reader of
poetry partakes of a more than ordinary portion of the poetic
nature; and no one can be completely such, who does not love,
or take an interest in everything that interests the poet, from
the firmament to the daisy--from the highest heart of man, to
the most pitiable of the low. It is a good practice to read
with pen in hand, marking what is liked or doubted. It rivets
the attention, realises the greatest amount of enjoyment, and
facilitates reference. It enables the reader also, from time to
time, to see what progress he makes with his own mind, and how
it grows up to the stature of its exalter.
LEIGH HUNT, _Letters_

3. Each of the following extracts from narrative poetry is an example
of the Romantic style. How is the Romantic spirit revealed in each, and
how far is each different from the others?

(1) The moving Moon went up the sky,
And nowhere did abide:
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside--

Her beams bemock’d the sultry main,
Like April hoar-frost spread;
But where the ship’s huge shadow lay,
The charmed water burnt alway
A still and awful red.

Beyond the shadow of the ship,
I watch’d the water-snakes:
They mov’d in tracks of shining white,
And when they rear’d, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.

Within the shadow of the ship
I watch’d their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coil’d and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.
COLERIDGE, _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_

(2) And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,
In blanched linen, smooth, and lavendered,
While he forth from the closet brought a heap
Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd,
With jellies soother than the creamy curd,
And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon,
Manna and dates, in argosy transferred
From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,
From silken Samarcand to cedared Lebanon.
KEATS, _The Eve of St. Agnes_

(3) Like adder darting from his coil,
Like wolf that dashes through the toil,
Like mountain-cat who guards her young,
Full at Fitz-James’s throat he sprung;
Received, but recked not of a wound,
And locked his arms his foeman round.
Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own!
No maiden’s hand is round thee thrown!
That desperate grasp thy frame might feel,
Through bars of brass and triple steel!
They tug, they strain; down, down they go,
The Gael above, Fitz-James below!
The Chieftain’s gripe his throat compressed,
His knee was planted on his breast;
His clotted locks he backward threw,
Across his brow his hand he drew,
From blood and mist to clear his sight,
Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright!
SCOTT, _The Lady of the Lake_

(4) While thus they spake, the angelic caravan,
Arriving like a rush of mighty wind,
Cleaving the fields of space, as doth the swan
Some silver stream (say Ganges, Nile, or Inde,
Or Thames, or Tweed), and ’midst them an old man
With an old soul, and both extremely blind,
Halted before the gate, and in his shroud
Seated their fellow traveller on a cloud.

But bringing up the rear of this bright host
A Spirit of a different aspect waved
His wings, like thunder-clouds above some coast
Whose barren beach with frequent wrecks is paved;
His brow was like the deep when tempest-toss’d;
Fierce and unfathomable thoughts engraved
Eternal wrath on his immortal face,
And _where_ he gazed a gloom pervaded space.
BYRON, _The Vision of Judgment_

4. The two following extracts represent two styles used by Scott. How
far is each appropriate to the characters, the period, and the occasion
of each novel? Which seems the more natural? How does this compare with
Shakespeare’s use of prose and blank verse in his plays?

(1) “Od, here’s another,” quoth Mrs Mailsetter. “A
ship-letter--post-mark, Sunderland.” All rushed to seize
it.--“Na, na, leddies,” said Mrs Mailsetter, interfering; “I hae
had eneugh o’ that wark--ken ye that Mr Mailsetter got an unco
rebuke frae the secretary at Edinburgh, for a complaint that
was made about the letter of Aily Bisset’s that ye opened, Mrs
Shortcake?”

“Me opened!” answered the spouse of the chief baker of Fairport;
“ye ken yoursel’, madam, it just cam open o’ free will in my
hand--what could I help it?--folk suld seal wi’ better wax.”

“Weel I wot that’s true, too,” said Mrs Mailsetter, who kept a
shop of small wares, “and we have got some that I can honestly
recommend, if ye ken onybody wanting it. But the short and the
lang o’t is, that we’ll lose the place gin there’s ony mair
complaints o’ the kind.”

“Hout, lass--the provost will take care o’ that.”

“Na, na--I’ll neither trust to provost nor bailie,” said the
postmistress,--“but I wad ay be obliging and neighbourly,
and I’m no again your looking at the outside of a letter
neither.--See, the seal has an anchor on’t--he’s done’t wi’ ane
o’ his buttons, I’m thinking.”
_The Antiquary_

(2) “And these are all nobles of Araby?” said Richard, looking
around on wild forms with their persons covered with haiks,
their countenances swart with the sunbeams, their teeth as
white as ivory, their black eyes glancing with fierce and
preternatural lustre from under the shade of their turbans, and
their dress being in general simple, even to meanness.

“They claim such rank,” said Saladin; “but, though numerous,
they are within the conditions of the treaty, and bear no arms
but the sabre--even the iron of their lances is left behind.”

“I fear,” muttered De Vaux in English, “they have left them
where they can be soon found.--A most flourishing House of
Peers, I confess, and would find Westminster Hall something too
narrow for them.”

“Hush, De Vaux,” said Richard, “I command thee.--Noble
Saladin,” he said, “suspicion and thou cannot exist on the same
ground.--Seest thou,” pointing to the litters--“I too have
brought some champions with me, though armed, perhaps, in breach
of agreement, for bright eyes and fair features are weapons
which cannot be left behind.”
_The Talisman_

5. Compare Wordsworth’s view of nature with that of Byron, as revealed
in the two following extracts. Which view seems to be the deeper and
clearer? How far does each reflect the life and habits of the author?

(1) The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite; a feeling and a love
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, or any interest
Unborrowed from the eye. That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn, nor murmur; other gifts
Have followed,--for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompense. For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue.
WORDSWORTH, _Tintern Abbey_

(2) And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
I wantoned with thy breakers, they to me
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror,’twas a pleasing fear,
For I was as it were a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane--as I do here.
BYRON, _Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage_

6. The first extract below gives Shelley’s idea of the cause of Keats’s
death. Compare it with the more cynical utterance of Byron, quoted
next. How far does each extract reveal the author’s attitude toward
life in general? How far is each statement true?

(1) Our Adonais has drunk poison--oh!
What deaf and viperous murderer could crown
Life’s early cup with such a draught of woe?
The nameless worm would now itself disown:
It felt, yet could escape, the magic tone
Whose prelude held all envy, hate, and wrong,
But what was howling in one breast alone,
Silent with expectation of the song,
Whose master’s hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung.
_Adonais_

(2) John Keats, who was killed off with one critique,
Just as he really promised something great,
If not intelligible, without Greek
Contrived to talk about the gods of late,
Much as they might have been supposed to speak.
Poor fellow! His was an untoward fate;
’Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle,
Should of itself be snuffed out by an article.
_Don Juan_

7. Compare Scott and Coleridge as narrative poets.

8. How far does the supernatural enter into the work of Scott, Shelley,
and Coleridge? Give a brief account of each.

9. Mention some of the chief literary critics of the period. What are
the main features of their criticism?

10. Give an account of the contemporary drama, naming some of the chief
plays and giving a criticism of their principal features.

11. What use do Shelley, Keats, and Coleridge make of natural features?
How do their attitudes compare with that of Wordsworth?

12. Write a note on the chief satirists of the period both in prose and
poetry.

13. Estimate the importance of Scott’s contribution to the novel.

14. Who are the chief lyrical poets of the period? Point out their
respective excellences and defects.

15. “In the earliest years of the nineteenth century, all the
influences which were most harmful to prose style were most rife. The
best elements of the eighteenth-century prose were gone, and a new host
were rushing into literature.” (Craik.) What were the influences that
were at work? How far did they affect prose style? How far did the
influence of journalism affect prose style?

16. “In point of genius the period is a period of poetry; in point of
mere form the remarkable change in it concerns not poetry but prose.”
(Saintsbury.) Discuss this statement. How far do the poets excel the
prose-writers in merit? Did the prose-writers revolt more strongly
against the earlier fashions?

17. “_The Excursion_ and _The Prelude_, his poems of greatest bulk, are
by no means Wordsworth’s best work. His best work is in his shorter
pieces.” (Matthew Arnold.) Discuss this statement.

CHAPTER XI

THE VICTORIAN AGE

TIME-CHART OF THE CHIEF AUTHORS

_The thick line represents the period of important literary work._

1820 1830 1840 1850 1860 1870 1880 1890 1900
| | | | | | | | |
| | ║[215] | | | | | | ║ |
Tennyson |........|.║======================================================║ |
(1809–1892) | | | | | | | | |
| | ║[216] | | | | | ║ | |
Browning |........|.║=================================================║ | |
(1812–89) | | | | | | | | |
| | ║[217]| | | | ║ | | |
Dickens |........|..║==================================║ | | |
(1812–70) | | | | | | | | |
| | |║ ║[218]| | ║ | | | |
Thackeray |........|........|║=║=================║ | | | |
(1811–63) | | | ║ | | | | | |
| ║ | | | ║[219]| | | | ║ |
Meredith | ║..|........|........|...║===================================║....|
(1828–1909) | | | | | | | | |
| | ║[220] | | | ║ | | ║ | |
Carlyle |........|.║============================║....|........|..║ | |
(1795–1881) | | | | | | | | |
| ║[221]| | | ║ | | | | |
Macaulay |..║==============================║ | | | | |
(1800–59) | | | | | | | | |
| | | ║[222]| | | | | ║ |║
Ruskin |........|........|...║===========================================║.....|║
(1819–1900) | | | | | | | | |

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND

=1. An Era of Peace.= The few colonial wars that broke out during
the Victorian epoch did not seriously disturb the national life.
There was one Continental war that directly affected Britain--the
Crimean War--and one that affected her indirectly though strongly--the
Franco-German struggle; yet neither of these caused any profound
changes. In America the great civil struggle left scars that were soon
to be obliterated by the wise statesmanship of her rulers. The whole
age may be not unfairly described as one of peaceful activity. In the
earlier stages the lessening surges of the French Revolution were still
left; but by the middle of the century they had almost completely died
down, and other hopes and ideals, largely pacific, were gradually
taking their place.

=2. Material Developments.= It was an age alive with new activities.
There was a revolution in commercial enterprise, due to the great
increase of available markets, and, as a result of this, an immense
advance in the use of mechanical devices. The new commercial energy was
reflected in the Great Exhibition of 1851, which was greeted as the
inauguration of a new era of prosperity.

=3. Intellectual Developments.= There can be little doubt that
in many cases material wealth produced a hardness of temper and an
impatience of projects and ideas that brought no return in hard cash;
yet it is to the credit of this age that intellectual activities
were so numerous. There was quite a revolution in scientific thought
following upon the works of Darwin and his school, and an immense
outburst of social and political theorizing which was represented in
England by the writings of men like Herbert Spencer and John Stuart
Mill. In addition, popular education became a practical thing. This
in its turn produced a new hunger for intellectual food, and resulted
in a great increase in the productions of the Press and of other more
durable species of literature.

LITERARY FEATURES OF THE AGE

The sixty years (1830–90) commonly included under the name of the
Victorian age present many dissimilar features; yet in several respects
we can safely generalize.

=1. Its Morality.= Nearly all observers of the Victorian age are
struck by its extreme deference to the conventions. To a later age
these seem ludicrous. It was thought indecorous for a man to smoke in
public and (much later in the century) for a lady to ride a bicycle.
To a great extent the new morality was a natural revolt against the
grossness of the earlier Regency, and the influence of the Victorian
Court was all in its favor. In literature it is amply reflected.
Tennyson is the most conspicuous example in poetry, creating the
priggishly complacent Sir Galahad and King Arthur. Dickens, perhaps the
most representative of the Victorian novelists, took for his model the
old picaresque novel; but it is almost laughable to observe his anxiety
to be “moral.” This type of writing is quite blameless, but it produced
the kind of public that denounced the innocuous _Jane Eyre_ as
wicked because it dealt with the harmless affection of a girl for a
married man.

=2. The Revolt.= Many writers protested against the deadening
effects of the conventions. Carlyle and Matthew Arnold, in their
different accents, were loud in their denunciations; Thackeray never
tired of satirizing the snobbishness of the age; and Browning’s cobbly
mannerisms were an indirect challenge to the velvety diction and
the smooth self-satisfaction of the Tennysonian school. As the age
proceeded the reaction strengthened. In poetry the Pre-Raphaelites, led
by Swinburne and William Morris, proclaimed no morality but that of
the artist’s regard for his art. By the vigor of his methods Swinburne
horrified the timorous, and made himself rather ridiculous in the eyes
of sensible people. It remained for Mr. Hardy (whom we reserve for the
next chapter) to pull aside the Victorian veils and shutters and with
the large tolerance of the master to regard men’s actions with open
gaze. To the present day, sometimes wisely, often unwisely, poet and
novelist have carried on the process; and the end is not yet.

=3. Intellectual Developments.= The literary product was
inevitably affected by the new ideas in science, religion, and
politics. _The Origin of Species_ (1859) of Darwin shook to its
foundations scientific thought. We can perceive the influence of such a
work in Tennyson’s _In Memoriam_, in Matthew Arnold’s meditative
poetry, and in the works of Carlyle. In religious and ethical thought
the “Oxford Movement,” as it was called, was the most noteworthy
advance. This movement had its source among the young and eager
thinkers of the old university, and was headed by the great Newman, who
ultimately (1845) joined the Church of Rome. As a religious portent
it marked the widespread discontent with the existing beliefs of the
Church of England; as a literary influence it affected many writers
of note, including Newman himself, Froude, Maurice, Kingsley, and
Gladstone.

=4. The New Education.= The Education Acts, making a certain
measure of education compulsory, rapidly produced an enormous reading
public. The cheapening of printing and paper increased the demand for
books, so that the production was multiplied. The most popular form
of literature was the novel, and the novelists responded with a will.
Much of their work was of a high standard, so much so that it has been
asserted by competent critics that the middle years of the nineteenth
century were the richest in the whole history of the novel.

=5. International Influences.= During the nineteenth century the
interaction among American and European writers was remarkably fresh
and strong. In Britain the influence of the great German writers was
continuous, and it was championed by Carlyle and Matthew Arnold.
Subject nations, in particular the Italians, were a sympathetic theme
for prose and verse. The Brownings, Swinburne, Morris, and Meredith
were deeply absorbed in the long struggle of the followers of Garibaldi
and Cavour; and when Italian freedom was gained the rejoicings were
genuine.

=6. The Achievement of the Age.= With all its immense production,
the age produced no supreme writer. It revealed no Shakespeare, no
Shelley, nor (in the international sense) a Byron or a Scott. The
general literary level was, however, very high; and it was an age,
moreover, of spacious intellectual horizons, noble endeavor, and bright
aspirations.

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON (1809–92)

=1. His Life.= Alfred Tennyson, the son of a clergyman, was born at
his father’s living at Somersby in Lincolnshire. After some schooling
at Louth, which was not agreeable to him, he proceeded to Cambridge
(1828). At the university he was a wholly conventional person, and
the only mark he made was to win the Chancellor’s Prize for a poem
on Timbuctoo. He left Cambridge without taking a degree; but before
doing so he published a small volume of mediocre verse. During the
next twenty years he passed a tranquil existence, living chiefly with
his parents, and writing much poetry. Pleasant jaunts--to the Lake
District, to Stratford-on-Avon, and other places--varied his peaceful
life, and all the while his fame as a poet was making headway. In
1844 he lost most of his small means in an unlucky speculation, but
in the nick of time (1845) he received a Government pension. He was
appointed Poet Laureate (1850) in succession to Wordsworth, married,
and removed to Freshwater, in the Isle of Wight, which was his home for
the next twenty years. In his later years recognition and applause came
increasingly upon him, and he was regarded as the greatest poet of his
day. In 1884 he was created a baron, sat in the House of Lords, and for
a time took himself rather seriously as a politician, falling out with
Gladstone over the Irish question. He died at Aldworth, near Haslemere,
in Surrey, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

=2. His Poetry.= When he was seventeen years old Tennyson collaborated
with his elder brother Charles in _Poems by Two Brothers_ (1826).
The volume is a slight one, but in the light of his later work we
can already discern a little of the Tennysonian metrical aptitude
and descriptive power. His prize poem of _Timbuctoo_ (1829) is not
much better than the usual prize poem. His _Poems, Chiefly Lyrical_
(1830), published while he was an undergraduate, are yet immature, but
in pieces like _Isabel_ and _Madeleine_ the pictorial effect and the
sumptuous imagery of his maturer style are already conspicuous.

His volume of _Poems_ (1832) is of a different quality, and marks a
decided advance. In this book, which contains _Mariana in the South_
and _The Palace of Art_, we see the Tennysonian features approaching
perfection. _Poems_ (1833), with such notable items as _Œnone_ and
_The Lotos-Eaters_, advances still further in technique. Then in 1842
he produced two volumes of poetry that set him once and for all among
the greater poets of his day. The first volume contains revised forms
of some of the numbers published previously, the second is entirely
new. It opens with _Morte d’Arthur_, and contains _Ulysses_, _Locksley
Hall_, and several other poems that stand at the summit of his
achievement.

The later stages of his career are marked chiefly by much longer poems.
_The Princess_ (1847) is a serio-comic attempt to handle the theme
that was then known as “the new woman.” For the sake of his story
Tennyson imagines a ladies’ academy with a mutinously intellectual
princess at the head of it. For a space a tragedy seems imminent, but
in the end all is well, for the Princess is married to the blameless
hero. The poem is in blank verse, but interspersed are several
singularly beautiful lyrics. The humor is heavy, but many of the
descriptions are as rich and wonderful as any Tennyson ever attempted.

_In Memoriam_ (1850) caused a great stir when it first appeared.
It is a very long series of meditations upon the death of Arthur
Henry Hallam, Tennyson’s college friend, who died at Vienna in 1833.
Tennyson brooded over the subject for years; and upon this elegiac
theme he imposed numerous meditations on life and death, showing how
these subjects were affected by the new theories of the day. To a later
generation his ideas appear pallid enough; but at the time they marked
a great advance upon the notions of the past. The poem is adorned with
many beautiful sketches of English scenery; and the meter--now called
the _In Memoriam_ meter--which is quite rare, is deftly managed.

_Maud and Other Poems_ (1855) was received with amazement by the
public. The chief poem is called a “monodrama”; it consists of a series
of lyrics which reflect the love and hatred, the hope and despair, of
a lover who slays his mistress’s brother, and then flies broken to
France. The whole tone of the work is forced and fevered, and it ends
in a glorification of war and bloodshed. It does not add to Tennyson’s
fame.

Beginning in 1859, Tennyson issued a series of _Idylls of the
King_, which had considered and attempted a great theme that Milton
abandoned--that of King Arthur and the Round Table. Many doting
admirers saw in the _Idylls_ an allegory of the soul of man; but in
effect Tennyson drew largely upon the simple tales of Malory, stripping
them of their “bold bawdry” to please his public, and covering them
with a thick coating of his delicate and detailed ornamentation. It is
doubtful if this unnatural compound of Malory-Tennyson is quite a happy
one, but we do obtain much blank verse of noble and sustained power.

The only other poem of any length is _Enoch Arden_ (1864), which
became the most popular of all, and found its way in translation into
foreign languages. The plot is cheap enough, dealing with a seaman,
supposedly drowned, who returns and, finding his wife happily married
to another man, regretfully retires without making himself known. The
tale, as ever, is rich with Tennysonian adornment. In particular, there
is a description of the tropical island where Enoch is wrecked that is
among the highest flights of the poet:

The mountain wooded to the peak, the lawns
And winding glades high up like ways to Heaven,
The slender coco’s drooping crown of plumes,
The lightning flash of insect and of bird,
The lustre of the long convolvuluses
That coiled around the stately stems, and ran
Even to the limit of the land, the glows
And glories of the broad belt of the world,
All these he saw; but what he fain had seen
He could not see, the kindly human face,
Nor ever hear a kindly voice, but heard
The myriad shriek of wheeling ocean-fowl,
The league-long roller thundering on the reef.

His last poems contain a harsher note, as if old age had brought
disillusion and a peevish discontent with the pleasant artifices that
had graced his prime. Even the later instalments of the _Idylls of the
King_ contain jarring notes, and are often fretful and unhappy in tone.
Among the shorter poems, _Locksley Hall Sixty Years after_ (1885) and
_The Death of Œnone_ (1892) are sad echoes of the sumptuous imaginings
of the years preceding 1842.

=3. His Plays.= Tennyson’s dramas occupied his later years. He wrote
three historical plays--_Queen Mary_ (1875), _Harold_ (1877), and
_Becket_ (1884). The last, owing chiefly to the exertions of Sir Henry
Irving, the actor-manager, was quite a stage success. None, however,
ranks high as a real dramatic effort, though all show much care and
skill. _The Falcon_ (1879) is a comedy based on a story from Boccaccio;
_The Cup_ (1880) is based on a story from Plutarch, and scored a
success, also through the skill of Irving. _The Foresters_ (1892),
dealing with the familiar Robin Hood theme, was produced in America.

=4. His Poetical Characteristics.= (_a_) _His Craftsmanship._ No one
can deny the great care and skill shown in Tennyson’s work. His method
of producing poetry was slowly to evolve the lines in his mind, commit
them to paper, and to revise them till they were as near perfection
as he could make them. Consequently we have a high level of poetical
artistry. No one excels Tennyson in the deft application of sound to
sense and in the subtle and pervading employment of alliteration and
vowel-music. Such passages as this abound in his work:

Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro’ the lawn,
The moan of doves in immemorial elms,
And murmuring of innumerable bees.
_The Princess_

This is perhaps not the highest poetry, but shows only a kind of
manual, or rather aural, dexterity; yet as Tennyson employs it, it is
effective to a degree.

His excellent craftsmanship is also apparent in his handling of
English meters, in which he is a tireless experimenter. In blank verse
he is not so varied and powerful as Shakespeare, nor so majestical
as Milton, but in the skill of his workmanship and in his wealth of
diction he falls but little short of these great masters.

(_b_) _His Pictorial Quality._ In this respect Tennyson follows the
example of Keats. Nearly all of his poems, even the simplest, abound in
ornate description of natural and other scenes. His method is to seize
upon appropriate details, dress them in expressive and musical phrases,
and thus throw a glistening image before the reader’s eye:

The silk star-broider’d coverlid
Unto her limbs itself doth mould
Languidly ever; and, amid
Her full black ringlets downward rolled,
Glows forth each softly-shadowed arm
With bracelets of the diamond bright:
Her constant beauty doth inform
Stillness with love, and day with light.
_The Sleeping Beauty_

Till now the doubtful dusk reveal’d
The knolls once more where, couched at ease,
The white kine glimmered, and the trees
Laid their dark arms about the field:

And sucked from out the distant gloom
A breeze began to tremble o’er
The large leaves of the sycamore,
And fluctuate all the still perfume.
_In Memoriam_

Such passages as these reveal Tennyson at his best; but once again the
doubt arises as to whether they represent the highest poetry. They show
care of observation and a studious loveliness of epithet; but they lack
the intense insight, the ringing and romantic note, of the best efforts
of Keats.

(_c_) Tennyson’s _lyrical quality_ is somewhat uneven. The slightest
of his pieces, like _Blow, bugle, blow_, are musical and attractive;
but on the whole his nature was too self-conscious, and perhaps his
life too regular and prosperous, to provide a background for the true
lyrical intensity of emotion. Once or twice, as in the wonderful
_Break, break, break_ and _Crossing the Bar_, he touches real greatness:

Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman’s boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

This lyric has a brevity, unity, and simple earnestness of emotion that
make it truly great.

(_d_) The extracts already given have sufficiently revealed the
qualities of his _style_. It can be quite simple, as in _The Brook_
and _Will Waterproof’s Lyrical Monologue_; but his typical style shows
a slow and somewhat sententious progress, heavy with imagery and all
the other devices of the poetical artist. In particular, he is an
adept at coining phrases--“jewels five words long,” as he himself
aptly expressed it; and he is almost invariably happy in his choice of
epithet.

(_e_) His _reputation_ has already declined from the idolatry in which
he was held when he was alive. He himself foresaw “the clamour and the
cry” that was bound to arise after his death. To his contemporaries he
was a demigod; but younger men strongly assailed his patent literary
mannerisms, his complacent acceptance of the evils of his time, his
flattery of the great, and his somewhat arrogant assumption of the
airs of immortality. Consequently for twenty years after his death his
reputation suffered considerably. Once more reaction has set in, and
his detractors have modified their attitude. He is not a supreme poet;
and whether he will maintain the primacy among the singers of his own
generation, as he undoubtedly did during his lifetime, remains to be
seen; but, after all deductions are made, his high place in the Temple
of Fame is assured.

ROBERT BROWNING (1812–89)

=1. His Life.= Browning was born at Camberwell, his father being
connected with the Bank of England. The future poet was educated
semi-privately, and from an early age he was free to follow his
inclination toward studying unusual subjects. As a child he was
precocious, and began to write poetry at the age of twelve. Of his
predecessors Shelley in particular influenced his mind, which was
unformed and turbulent at this time with the growing power within.
After a brief course at London University, Browning for a short period
traveled in Russia (1833); then he lived in London, where he became
acquainted with some of the leaders of the literary and theatrical
worlds. In 1834 he paid his first visit to Italy, a country which was
for him a fitful kind of home. In 1845 he visited Elizabeth Barrett,
the poetess, whose works had strongly attracted him. A mutual liking
ensued, and then, after a private marriage, a sort of elopement
followed, to escape the anger of the wife’s stern parent. The remainder
of Browning’s life was occupied with journeys between England and
France and Italy, and with much poetical activity. His wife died at
Florence in 1861, leaving one son. Browning thereupon left the city
for good and returned to England, though in 1878 he went back once
more to Italy. His works, after suffering much neglect, were now being
appreciated, and in 1867 Oxford conferred upon him the degree of D.C.L.
He died in Italy, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

=2. His Poems and Plays.= His first work of any importance is
_Pauline_ (1833). The poem is a wild imitation of the more
extravagant outbursts of Shelley, whom it praises effusively. The work
is crude and feverish, and at the time it attracted little notice.
_Paracelsus_ (1835) reveals Browning’s affection for unusual
subjects. The poem, a very long one, is composed largely of monologues
of the medieval charlatan whose name forms the title. The work gave
the public its first taste of Browning’s famous “obscurity.” The style
is often harsh and rugged, but the blank verse contains many isolated
passages of great tenderness and beauty. There are in addition one or
two charming lyrics that are as limpid as well-water:

Thus the Mayne glideth
Where my love abideth.
Sleep’s no softer: it proceeds
On through lawns, on through meads,
On and on, whate’er befall,
Meandering and musical,
Though the niggard pasturage
Bears not on its shaven ledge
Aught but weeds and waving grasses
To view the river as it passes,
Save here and there a scanty patch
Of primrose too faint to catch
A weary bee.

His next effort was the play _Strafford_ (1837), which was written
at the suggestion of the actor Macready, and was fairly successful.
_Sordello_ (1840) established Browning’s reputation for obscurity. The
poem professes to tell the life-story of a Mantuan troubadour, but most
of it is occupied with long irrelevant speeches and with Browning’s
commentary thereon. _Pippa Passes_ (1841) is in form a drama. In
plot it is highly improbable, as it is based on several coincidences
that all happen in one day. The work is rather more terse than its
predecessors, and the purple patches are more numerous. Pippa’s songs,
moreover, are often of great beauty. In _Dramatic Lyrics_ (1842) there
are many examples of clear and forcible work, including his Cavalier
lyrics and such well-known pieces as _Home Thoughts from Abroad_.
Other works of this period include _The Return of the Druses_ (1843),
a play; _Dramatic Romances_ (1846), which shows the Browning obscurity
and virility at their best and worst; _Luria_ (1846), perhaps the
weakest of his tragedies, resembling _Othello_ in some respects;
_Men and Women_ (1855), consisting of dramatic monologues, some of
great power and penetration; _Dramatis Personæ_ (1864), containing
more monologues; _Balaustion’s Adventure_ (1871), a transcript from
Euripides; and the longest of all his works, _The Ring and the Book_
(1868–69), with which the period closes.

_The Ring and the Book_ is (the word is so apt as to be inevitable)
a literary “stunt.” It is the story of the murder of a young wife,
Pompilia, by her worthless husband, in the year 1698, and the same
story is told by nine different people, and continues for twelve books.
The result is a monument of masterly discursiveness.

In the later stages of his career Browning’s mannerisms are accentuated
in the dreary wildernesses of _Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau_ (1871),
_Red Cotton Night-Cap Country_ (1873), _The Inn Album_ (1875), and _La
Saisiaz_ (1878). It is difficult to understand the use of such poems,
except to give employment to the Browning Societies that were springing
up to explain them. But his better qualities are shown in _Fifine at
the Fair_ (1872), which is still too long; _Dramatic Idylls_ (1879–80);
_Jocoseria_ (1883); _Ferishtah’s Fancies_ (1884); and _Parleyings with
Certain People_ (1887). His long life’s work has a powerful close in
_Asolando_ (1889), which, along with much of the tired disillusion of
the old man, has in places the firmness and enthusiasm of his prime.
The last verses he ever wrote describe himself in the character he most
loved to adopt:

One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,
Never doubted clouds would break,
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,
Sleep to wake.

No, at noonday in the bustle of man’s worktime
Greet the unseen with a cheer!
Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be,
“Strive and thrive!” cry, “Speed,--fight on, fare ever
There as here!”

=3. Features of his Work.= (_a_) _His Style._ Browning’s style
has been the subject of endless discussion, for it presents a
fascinating problem. Within itself it reveals the widest range. Its
famous “obscurity” was so pronounced that it led to the production
of “Browning dictionaries” and other apparatus to disclose the deep
meanings of the master. This feature of his work is partly due to his
fondness for recondite subjects, to his compression and also to his
diffuseness of thought and language, and to his juggling with words
and meters. It often leads to such passages as the following, which is
nothing less than jockeying with the English language:

Now, your rater and debater
Is baulked by a mere spectator
Who simply stares and listens
Tongue tied, while eye nor glistens
Nor brow grows hot and twitchy,
Nor mouth, for a combat itchy,
Quivers with some convincing
Reply--that sets him wincing?
Nay, rather, reply that furnishes
Your debater with what burnishes
The crest of him, all one triumph,
As you see him rise, hear him cry “Humph!
Convinced am I? This confutes me.
Receive the rejoinder that suits me!
Confutation of vassal for prince meet--
Wherein all the powers that convince meet,
And mash my opponent to mincemeat!”
_Pacchiarotto_

In contrast with this huddle of words, Browning can write clearly and
with perfect cohesion and directness, as may easily be seen in such
well-known poems as _How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix_,
_Time’s Revenges_, and _The Glove_. His middle style, common in his
blank verse and his lyrics, is somewhat like that of Byron in its fine
prosaic aptness:

This flower she stopped at, finger on lip,
Stooped over, in doubt, as settling its claim;
Till she gave me, with pride to make no slip,
Its soft meandering Spanish name:

What a name! Was it love or praise?
Speech half-asleep or song half-awake?
I must learn Spanish, one of these days,
Only for that slow sweet name’s sake.
_Garden Fancies_

(_b_) _His Descriptive Power._ In this respect Browning differs widely
from Tennyson, who slowly creates a lovely image by careful massing of
detail. Browning, however, makes one or two dashing strokes, and, by
his complete mastery of phrase, the picture is revealed:

Yon otter, sleek-wet, black, lithe as a leech;
Yon auk, one fire-eye in a ball of foam,
That floats and feeds; a certain badger brown
He hath watched hunt with that slant white-wedge eye
By moonlight; and the pie with the long tongue
That pricks deep into oakworts for a worm,
And says a plain word when she finds her prize.
_Caliban upon Setebos_

This love for the picturesque leads him into many crooked byways
of life, manners, and history, often with results that dismay his
warmest admirers. Frequently, however, the stubborn thistle of his
style blossoms into glossy purples. For example, in _The Ring and the
Book_, we often light upon a tender passage like the following, which
refreshes the whole arid page around it:

So, when the she-dove breeds, strange yearnings come
For the unknown shelter by undreamed-of shores,
And there is born a blood-pulse in her heart
To fight if needs be, though with flap of wing,
For the wool-flock or the fur-tuft, though a hawk
Contest the prize.

(_c_) _His Teaching._ Much play has been made with this side of his
writings. But, after analysis, his teaching can with fairness be summed
up in the simple exhortation to strive, hope, and fear not. A fair
proportion of his poems are inspired with the facile optimism that led
him to cry,

God’s in his heaven,
All’s right with the world,

but his sager mind let him perceive that much of the world was wrong.
He had generous enthusiasms, such as that for the cause of Italian
liberty; several strong prejudices, such as that against spiritualism;
but on the whole his is a fair reflex of the average mind of his day,
with the addition of much reading and observation and the priceless
boon of genuine poetical genius.

(_d_) _His Reputation._ Recognition was slow in coming, but like
Wordsworth he lived to see his name established high among his fellows.
He wrote too freely, and often too carelessly and perversely, and much
of his work will pass into oblivion; but the residue will be of quality
high enough to make his fame secure.

OTHER POETS

=1. Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–61)=, whose maiden name was
Elizabeth Barrett, was the daughter of a West India planter, and was
born at Durham. She began to write poems at the age of eight; her first
published work worth mentioning was _An Essay on Mind_ (1826),
which is of slight importance. When she was about thirty years old
delicate health prostrated her, and for the rest of her life she was
almost an invalid. In 1846, when she was forty, she and Robert Browning
were married, and stole off to Italy, where they made Florence their
headquarters. She was a woman of acute sensibilities, and was fervid
in the support of many good causes, one of which was the attainment
of Italian independence. On the death of Wordsworth in 1850 it was
suggested that the Laureateship should be conferred upon her, but the
project fell through. After a very happy married life she died at
Florence.

Only the chief of her numerous poetical works can be mentioned here.
After her first work noted above there was a pause of nine years; then
appeared _Prometheus Bound_ (1835). Other works are _The Seraphim_
(1838), _Sonnets from the Portuguese_ (1846), _Casa Guidi Windows_
(1851), _Aurora Leigh_ (1857), an immense poem in blank verse,
and _Last Poems_ (1861). She wrote many of her shorter pieces for
magazines, the most important contributions being _The Cry of the
Children_ (1841) for _Blackwood’s_ and _The Great God Pan_ (1860) for
the _Cornhill_. As a narrative poet Mrs. Browning is a comparative
failure, for in method she is discursive and confused, but she has
command of a sweet, clear, and often passionate style. She has many
slips of taste, and her desire for elevation sometimes leads her into
what Rossetti called “falsetto masculinity,” a kind of hysterical
bravado.

=2. Matthew Arnold (1822–88)= was a writer of many activities, but it
is chiefly as a poet that he now holds his place in literature. He
was the son of the famous headmaster of Rugby, and was educated at
Winchester, Rugby, and at Balliol College, Oxford, where he gained the
Newdigate Prize for poetry. Subsequently he became a Fellow of Oriel
College (1845). In 1851 he was appointed an inspector of schools, and
proved to be a capable official. His life was busily uneventful, and in
1886 he resigned, receiving a pension from the Government. Less than
two years afterward he died suddenly of heart disease.

His poetical works are not very bulky. _The Strayed Reveller_ (1848)
appeared under the _nom de plume_ of “A”; then followed _Empedocles
on Etna_ (1853), _Poems_ (1854), and _New Poems_ (1868). None of
these volumes is of large size, though much of the content is of a
high quality. For subject Arnold is fond of classical themes, to
which he gives a meditative and even melancholy cast common in modern
compositions. In some of the poems--as, for example, in the nobly
pessimistic _Scholar-Gipsy_--he excels in the description of typical
English scenery. In style he has much of the classical stateliness and
more formal type of beauty, but he can be graceful and charming, with
sometimes the note of real passion. His meditative poetry, like _Dover
Beach_ and _A Summer Night_, resembles that of Gray in its subdued
melancholy resignation, but all his work is careful, scholarly, and
workmanlike.

His prose works are large in bulk and wide in range. Of them all
his critical essays are probably of the highest value. _Essays in
Criticism_ (1865) contains the best of his critical work, which is
marked by wide reading and careful thought. His judgment, usually
admirably sane and measured, is sometimes distorted a little by his
views on life and politics. Arnold also wrote freely upon theological
and political themes, but these were largely topics of the day, and his
works on such subjects have no great permanent value. His best books of
this class are _Culture and Anarchy_ (1869) and _Literature and Dogma_
(1873).

=3. Edward Fitzgerald (1809–83)=, like Thomas Gray, lives in general
literature by one poem. This, after long neglect, came to be regarded
as one of the great things in English literature. He was a man of
original views and retiring habits, and spent most of his life in his
native Suffolk. In 1859 he issued the _Rubáiyát_ of the early Persian
poet Omar Khayyám. His version is a very free translation, cast into
curious four-lined stanzas, which have an extraordinary cadence, rugged
yet melodious, strong yet sweet. The feeling expressed in the verses,
with much energy and picturesque effect, is stoical resignation.
Fitzgerald also wrote a prose dialogue of much beauty called
_Euphranor_ (1851); and his surviving letters testify to his quiet and
caustic humor.

=4. Arthur Hugh Clough (1819–61)= was born at Liverpool, and educated
at Rugby, where Dr. Arnold made a deep impression upon his mind. He
proceeded to Oxford, where, like his friend Matthew Arnold, he later
became a Fellow of Oriel College. He traveled much, and then became
Warden of University Hall, London. This post he soon resigned, and
some public appointments followed. He died at Florence, after a long
pilgrimage to restore his failing health. His death was bewailed by
Arnold in his beautiful elegy _Thyrsis_.

Clough’s first long poem was _The Bothie of Tober-na-Vuolich_ (1848),
which is written in rough classical hexameters and contains some fine
descriptions of the Scottish Highlands. He wrote little else of much
value. His _Amours de Voyage_ (1849) is also in hexameters; _Dipsychus_
(1850) is a meditative poem. His poetry is charged with much of the
deep-seated unrest and despondency that mark the work of Arnold. His
lyrical gift is not great, but once at least, in the powerful _Say not
the Struggle Naught Availeth_, he soared into greatness.

=5. Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828–82)= was the eldest of the
Pre-Raphaelite school of artists and poets. He himself was both artist
and poet. He was the son of an Italian refugee, and early became an
artist. In art, as in poetry, he broke away from convention when he saw
fit. His poetical works are small in bulk, consisting of two slight
volumes, _Poems_ (1870) and _Ballads and Sonnets_ (1881).

Of the high quality of these poems there can be little question. With
a little more breadth of view, and with perhaps more of the humane
element in him, he might have found a place among the very highest.
For he had real genius, and in _The Blessed Damozel_ his gifts are
fully displayed: a gift for description of almost uncanny splendor, a
brooding and passionate introspection, often of a religious nature,
and a verbal beauty as studied and melodious as that of Tennyson--less
certain and decisive perhaps, but surpassing that of the older poet in
unearthly suggestiveness. In his ballads, like _Rose Mary_ and _Troy
Town_, the same powers are apparent, though in a lesser degree; these
have in addition a power of narrative that is only a very little short
of the greatest. An extract appears on p. 515.

=6. Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830–94)= was a younger sister of
the poet last named, and survived him by some years. Her life was
uneventful, like her brother’s, and was passed chiefly in London.

Her bent was almost entirely lyrical, and was shown in _Goblin
Market_ (1862), _The Prince’s Progress_ (1866), _A Pageant_ (1881),
and _Verses_ (1892). Another volume, called _New Poems_ (1896),
was published after her death, and contains much excellent early
work. Her poetry, perhaps less impressive than that of her brother
in its descriptive passages, has a purer lyrical note of deep and
sustained passion, with a somewhat larger command of humor, and a
gift of poetical expression as noble and comprehensive as his own.
They resemble each other in a curious still undertone of passionate
religious meditation joined to a fine simplicity of diction.

=7. William Morris (1834–96)= produced a great amount of poetry, and
was one of the most conspicuous figures in mid-Victorian literature. He
was born near London, the son of a wealthy merchant, and was educated
at Marlborough and Oxford. His wealth, freeing him from the drudgery
of a profession, permitted him to take a lively and practical interest
in the questions of his day. Upon art, education, politics, and social
problems his great energy and powerful mind led him to take very
decided views, sometimes of an original nature. Here we are concerned
only with his achievement in literature.

At an early period he was drawn into the Pre-Raphaelite movement,
for he was keenly alive to its studied beauty and rather extreme
medievalism. _The Defence of Guenevere_ (1858), written in this
manner, was received with neglect. The poems are laboriously fantastic,
but they show great beauty and a sense of restrained passion. _The
Life and Death of Jason_ (1866) is a long narrative poem on a
familiar theme, written in the heroic couplet in a manner suggestive
of Chaucer, but easy and melodious to an extent that makes the tale
almost monotonous. _The Earthly Paradise_ (1868–70) develops this
narrative method still further, and is a collection of twenty-four
tales on various subjects of classical and medieval origin. In meter
the poems vary, but the couplet is prominent. In range and vivacity
the work is extraordinary, and the framework into which the tales are
set is both ingenious and beautiful. _Poems by the Way_ (1891)
contains some fine miscellaneous pieces. A brief extract from his poems
will be found on p. 514.

Morris also busied himself with the composition of long prose tales,
produced in great quantity during the later years of his life. The
tales are written in a curious headlong, semi-rhythmical, semi-archaic
style. Much reading of it tends to give the reader mental indigestion,
but the vigor and skill of the prose are very considerable. Some of the
tales are _The House of the Wolfings_ (1889), _The Roots of the
Mountains_ (1890), _The Story of the Glittering Plain_ (1891),
and _The Sundering Flood_ (1898).

=8. Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837–1909)= had a long life and his
poetical work was in proportion to it. Of aristocratic lineage, he was
educated at Eton and Oxford. He left Oxford (1860) without taking a
degree, and for the rest of his life wrote voluminously, if not always
judiciously. He was a man of quick attachments and violent antagonisms,
and these features of his character did much to vitiate his prose
criticisms, of which he wrote a large number. In his later years, from
1879 onward, he lived with his friend Theodore Watts-Dunton at Putney
Hill, where he died.

_Atalanta in Calydon_ (1865), an attempt at an English version of an
ancient Greek tragedy, was his first considerable effort in poetic
form, and it attracted notice at once. At a bound the young poet had
attained to a style of his own: tuneful and impetuous movement, a
cunning metrical craftsmanship, and a mastery of melodious diction.
The excess of these virtues was also its bane, leading to diffuseness,
breathlessness, and incoherence. _Poems and Ballads_ (1866), a second
extraordinary book, was, owing to its choice of unconventional
subjects, criticized as being wicked. In it the Swinburnian features
already mentioned are revealed in a stronger fashion. Only a few of his
later poetical works can be mentioned here: _Songs before Sunrise_
(1871), a collection of poems chiefly in praise of Italian liberty,
some of them of great beauty, but marred by his reckless defiance of
the common view; _Erectheus_ (1876), a further and less successful
effort at Greek tragedy; and _Tristram of Lyonesse_ (1882), a narrative
of much passion and force, composed in the heroic couplet. Some of
his shorter poems were reproduced in two further series of _Poems and
Ballads_ in 1878 and 1889, but they are inferior to those of his prime.

Swinburne wrote a large number of plays, of which the most noteworthy
are _The Queen Mother and Rosamond_ (1860), with which he began his
career as an author; three plays on the subject of Mary Queen of Scots,
called _Chastelard_ (1865), _Bothwell_ (1874), and _Mary Stuart_
(1881); _Locrine_ (1887); and _The Sisters_ (1892). The gifts of
Swinburne are lyrical rather than dramatic, and his tragedies, like
those of most of his contemporaries, are only of literary importance.
His blank verse is strongly phrased, and in drama his diffuseness--that
desire for mere sound and speed which was his greatest weakness--has
little scope.

=9. Arthur Edward O’Shaughnessy (1844–81)= was born in London, of Irish
descent. In 1861 he joined the staff of the British Museum Library,
where a promising career was cut short by his early death. He wrote
little, and his books came close upon each other: _The Epic of Women_
(1870), _Lays of France_ (1872), _Music and Moonlight_ (1874), and
_Songs of a Worker_ (1881), the last appearing after his death. His
longer poems have a certain haziness and incoherence, but the shorter
pieces have a musical and attractive style and a certain half-mystical
wistfulness. His ode beginning “We are the music-makers” is often
quoted, and other poems quite as good are _A Neglected Heart_ and
_Exile_.

CHARLES DICKENS (1812–70)

=1. His Life.= Dickens was born near Portsea, where his father
was a clerk in the Navy Pay Office. Charles, the second of eight
children, was a delicate child, and much of his boyhood was spent at
home, where he read the novels of Smollett, Fielding, and Le Sage. The
works of these writers were to influence his own novels very deeply.
At an early age also he became very fond of the theater, a fondness
that remained with him all his life, and affected his novels to a
great extent. In 1823 the Dickens family removed to London, where
the father, an improvident man of the Micawber type, soon drew them
into money difficulties. The schooling of Charles, which had all
along been desultory enough, was temporarily suspended. The boy for a
time worked in a blacking factory while his father was an inmate of
the debtors’ prison of the Marshalsea. After a year or so financial
matters improved; the education of Charles was resumed; then in 1827
he entered the office of an attorney, and in time became an expert
shorthand-writer. This proficiency led (1835) to an appointment as
reporter on the _Morning Chronicle_. In this capacity he did much
traveling by stage-coach, during which a keen eye and a retentive
memory stored material to exploit a greatness yet undreamed of.
Previously, in 1833, some articles which he called _Sketches by
Boz_ had appeared in _The Monthly Magazine_. They were brightly
written, and attracted some notice.

In 1836 Messrs. Chapman and Hall, a firm of publishers, had agreed to
produce in periodical form a series of sketches by Seymour, a popular
black-and-white artist. The subjects were of a sporting and convivial
kind, and to give them more general interest some story was needed to
accompany them. Dickens was requested to supply the “book,” and thus
originated _The Pickwick Papers_ (1836). Before the issue of the
second number of the prints Seymour committed suicide, and Hablot
K. Browne, who adopted the name of “Phiz,” carried on the work. His
illustrations are still commonly adopted for Dickens’s books.

_The Pickwick Papers_ was a great success; Dickens’s fame was secure,
and the rest of his life was that of a busy and successful novelist.
He lived to enjoy a reputation that was unexampled, surpassing even
that of Scott; for the appeal of Dickens was wider and more searching
than that of the Scottish novelist. He varied his work with much
traveling--among other places to America (1842), to Italy (1844), to
Switzerland (1846), and again to America (1867). His popularity was
exploited in journalism, for he edited _The Daily News_ (1846), and
founded _Household Words_ (1849) and _All the Year Round_ (1859). In
1858 Dickens commenced his famous series of public readings. These were
actings rather than readings, for he chose some of the most violent or
affecting scenes from his novels and presented them with full-blown
histrionic effect. The readings brought him much money, but they
wore him down physically. They were also given in America, with the
greatest success. He died in his favorite house, Gad’s Hill Place, near
Rochester, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

=2. His Novels.= _Sketches by Boz_ (1833), a series dealing with London
life in the manner of Leigh Hunt, is interesting, but trifling when
compared with _The Pickwick Papers_ (1836), its successor. The plot of
the latter book is rudimentary. In order to provide an occasion for
Seymour’s sketches Dickens hit upon the idea of a sporting club, to
be called the Pickwick Club. As the book proceeds this idea is soon
dropped, and the story becomes a kind of large and genial picaresque
novel. The incidents are loosely connected and the chronology will not
bear close inspection, but in abundance of detail of a high quality,
in vivacity of humor, in acute and accurate observation, the book is
of the first rank. It is doubtful if Dickens ever improved upon it.
Then, before _Pickwick_ was finished, _Oliver Twist_ (1837) appeared
piecemeal in _Bentley’s Miscellany_; and _Nicholas Nickleby_ (1838)
was begun before the second novel had ceased to appear. The demand for
Dickens’s novels was now enormous, and he was assiduous in catering for
his public. For his next novels he constructed a somewhat elaborate
framework, calling the work _Master Humphrey’s Clock_; but he sensibly
abandoned the notion, and the books appeared separately as _The Old
Curiosity Shop_ (1840), which was an immense success, and _Barnaby
Rudge_ (1841), a historical novel. In 1842 he sailed to America,
where his experiences bore fruit in _American Notes_ (1843) and
_Martin Chuzzlewit_ (1843). These works were not complimentary to the
Americans, and they brought him much unpopularity in the United States.
_A Christmas Carol_ (1843) and _Dombey and Son_ (1848) appeared next,
the latter being written partly at Lausanne. Then in 1849 he started
_David Copperfield_, which contains many of his personal experiences
and is often considered to be his masterpiece, though for many critics
_The Pickwick Papers_ retains its primacy.

From this point onward a certain decline is manifest. His stories
drag; his mannerisms become more apparent, and his splendid buoyancy
is less visible. _Bleak House_ (1852) and _Hard Times_ (1854) were
written for his _Household Words_; _Little Dorrit_ (1856) appeared in
monthly parts; _A Tale of Two Cities_ (1859) and _Great Expectations_
(1860) were for _All the Year Round_. After producing _Our Mutual
Friend_ (1864) he paid his second visit to America, and was received
very cordially. He returned to England, but did not live to finish _The
Mystery of Edwin Drood_, which was appearing in monthly parts when he
died.

=3. Features of his Novels.= (_a_) _Their Popularity._ At the age of
twenty-six Dickens was a popular author. This was a happy state of
affairs for him, and to his books it served as an ardent stimulus. But
there were attendant disadvantages. The demand for his novels was so
enormous that it often led to hasty and ill-considered work: to crudity
of plot, to unreality of characters, and to looseness of style. It led
also to the pernicious habit of issuing the stories in parts. This in
turn resulted in much padding and in lopsidedness of construction. The
marvelous thing is that with so strong a temptation to slop-work he
created books that were so rich and enduring.

(_b_) _His Imagination._ No English novelist excels Dickens in the
multiplicity of his characters and situations. _Pickwick Papers_,
the first of the novels, teems with characters, some of them finely
portrayed, and in mere numbers the supply is maintained to the very end
of his life. He creates for us a whole world of people. In this world
he is most at home with persons of the lower and middle ranks of life,
especially those who frequent the neighborhood of London.

(_c_) _His Humor and Pathos._ It is very likely that the reputation of
Dickens will be maintained chiefly as a humorist. His humor is broad,
humane, and creative. It gives us such real immortals as Mr. Pickwick,
Mrs. Gamp, Mr. Micawber, and Sam Weller--typical inhabitants of the
Dickensian sphere, and worthy of a place in any literary brotherhood.
Dickens’s humor is not very subtle, but it goes deep, and in expression
it is free and vivacious. His satire is apt to develop into mere
burlesque, as it does when he deals with Mr. Stiggins and Bumble. As
for his pathos, in its day it had an appeal that appears amazing to a
later generation, whom it strikes as cheap and maudlin. His devices are
often third-rate, as when they depend upon such themes as the deaths of
little children, which he describes in detail. His genius had little
tragic force. He could describe the horrible, as in the death of Bill
Sikes; he could be painfully melodramatic, as in characters like Rosa
Dartle and Madame Defarge; but he seems to have been unable to command
the simplicity of real tragic greatness.

(_d_) His _mannerisms_ are many, and they do not make for good in his
novels. It has often been pointed out that his characters are created
not “in the round,” but “in the flat.” Each represents one mood, one
turn of phrase. Uriah Heep is “’umble,” Barkis is “willin’.” In this
fashion his characters become associated with catch-phrases, like the
personages in inferior drama. Dickens’s partiality for the drama is
also seen in the staginess of his scenes and plots.

(_e_) In time his _style_ became mannered also. At its best it is not
polished nor scholarly, but it is clear, rapid, and workmanlike, the
style of the working journalist. In the early books it is sometimes
trivial with puns, Cockneyisms, and tiresome circumlocutions. This
heavy-handedness of phrase remained with him all his life. In his more
aspiring flights, in particular in his deeply pathetic passages, he
adopted a lyrical style, a kind of verse-in-prose, that is blank verse
slightly disguised. We add a passage of this last type. It can be
scanned in places like pure blank verse:

For she was dead. There, upon her little bed, she lay at rest.
The solemn stillness was no marvel now.

She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace
of pain, so fair to look upon. She seemed a creature fresh from
the hand of God, and waiting for the breath of life; not one who
had lived and suffered death.

Her couch was dressed with here and there some winter berries
and green leaves, gathered in a spot she had been used to
favour. “When I die, put near me something that has loved the
light, and had the sky above it always.” Those were her words.
_The Old Curiosity Shop_

We give also a specimen of the typical Dickensian style. The reader
should observe in it the qualities of ease, perspicuity, and humor:

The particular picture on which Sam Weller’s eyes were fixed,
as he said this, was a highly coloured representation of a
couple of human hearts skewered together with an arrow, cooking
before a cheerful fire, while a male and female cannibal in
modern attire: the gentleman being clad in a blue coat and white
trousers, and the lady in a deep red pelisse with a parasol
of the same: were approaching the meal with hungry eyes, up a
serpentine gravel path leading thereunto. A decidedly indelicate
young gentleman, in a pair of wings and nothing else, was
depicted as superintending the cooking; a representation of the
spire of the church in Langham Place, London, appeared in the
distance; and the whole formed a “valentine,” of which, as a
written inscription in the window testified, there was a large
assortment within, which the shopkeeper pledged himself to
dispose of, to his countrymen generally, at the reduced rate of
one and sixpence each.
_The Pickwick Papers_

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY (1811–63)

=1. His Life.= Thackeray was born at Calcutta, and was descended
from an ancient Yorkshire family. His father having died in 1816, the
boy was sent to England for his education; and on the voyage home
he had a glimpse of Napoleon, then a prisoner on St. Helena. His
school was the Charterhouse, and his college was Trinity College,
Cambridge, which he entered in 1829. Both at school and college he
struck his contemporaries as an idle and rather cynical youth, whose
main diversions were sketching and lampooning his friends and enemies.
For a time Thackeray had some intention of becoming an artist, and
studied art in Paris. Then the loss of his entire fortune drove him
into journalism for a living. He contributed both prose and light
verse to several periodicals, including _Punch_ and _Fraser’s
Magazine_, winning his way slowly and with much difficulty, for
his were gifts that do not gain ready recognition. It was not till
nearly the middle of the century that _Vanity Fair_ (1847) brought
him some credit, though at first the book was grudgingly received.
Thenceforward he wrote steadily and with increasing favor until his
death, which occurred with great suddenness. Before his death he had
enjoined his executors not to publish any biography, so that of all
the major Victorian writers we have of him the scantiest biographical
materials.

=2. His Novels.= For a considerable number of years Thackeray was
groping for a means of expression, and wavered between verse, prose,
and sketching. His earliest literary work consisted of light and
popular contributions to periodicals. The most considerable of these
are _The Yellowplush Papers_ (1837), contributed to _Fraser’s Magazine_
and dealing with the philosophy and experiences of Jeames, an imaginary
footman, and _The Book of Snobs_ (1846), which originally appeared in
_Punch_ as _The Snob Papers_. Snobs, who continued to be Thackeray’s
pet abhorrence, are defined by him as those “who meanly admire mean
things,” and in this early book their widespread activities are closely
pursued and harried. _The History of Samuel Titmarsh_ (1841), _The
Great Hoggarty Diamond_ (1841), and _The Fitzboodle Papers_ (1842)
appeared first in _Fraser’s Magazine_. They are deeply marked with
his biting humor and merciless observation of human weaknesses, but
they found little acceptance. _The Memoirs of Barry Lyndon_ (1842) is
a distinct advance. It is a species of picaresque novel, telling of
the adventures of a gambling rascal, an amiable scapegrace who prowls
over Europe. In range the book is wider, and the grasp of incident and
character is more sure. In _Vanity Fair_ (1847) the genius of Thackeray
reaches high-water mark. In theme it is concerned chiefly with the
fortunes of Becky Sharp, an adventuress. In dexterity of treatment, in
an imaginative power that both reveals and transforms, and in a clear
and mournful vision of the vanities of mankind the novel is among the
greatest in the language. _Pendennis_ (1848) continues the method of
_Vanity Fair_. Partly autobiographical, it portrays life as it appears
to the author. Thackeray refuses to bow to convention and precedent,
except when these conform to his ideals of literature. In this book
Thackeray openly avows his debt to Fielding, the master whom he equals
and in places excels. _Henry Esmond_ (1852) is a historical novel
of great length and complexity, showing the previous excellences of
Thackeray in almost undiminished force, as well as immense care and
forethought, a minute and accurate knowledge of the times of Queen
Anne, and an extraordinary faculty for reproducing both the style and
the atmosphere of the period. By some judges this book is considered to
be his best. His novel _The Newcomes_ (1854) is supposed to be edited
by Pendennis. In tone it is more genial than its predecessors, but it
ends tragically with the death of the aged Colonel Newcome. With _The
Virginians_ (1857) the list of the great novels is closed. This book,
a sequel to _Henry Esmond_, is a record of the experiences of two lads
called Warrington, the grandsons of Henry Esmond himself. In the story,
a pale shadow of her former self, appears Beatrix Esmond, the fickle
heroine of the earlier book.

In 1860 Thackeray was appointed first editor of _The Cornhill
Magazine_, and for this he wrote _Lovel the Widower_ (1860), _The
Adventures of Philip_ (1861), and a series of essays, charming and
witty trifles, which were reissued as _The Roundabout Papers_ (1862).
Both in size and in merit these last novels are inferior to their
predecessors. At his death he left an unfinished novel, _Denis Duval_.

Like Dickens, Thackeray had much success as a lecturer on both
sides of the Atlantic, though in his methods he did not follow his
fellow-novelist. Two courses of lectures were published as _The English
Humourists_ (1852) and _The Four Georges_ (1857). All his life he
delighted in writing burlesques, the best of which are _Rebecca and
Rowena_ (1850), a comic continuation of _Ivanhoe_, and _The Legend of
the Rhine_ (1851), a burlesque tale of medieval chivalry.

=3. His Poetry.= On the surface Thackeray’s verse appears to be
frivolous stuff, but behind the frivolity there is always sense,
often a barb of reproof, and sometimes a note of sorrow. _The Ballads
of Policeman X_ is an early work contributed in numbers to _Punch_.
Others, such as _The White Squall_ and _The Ballad of Bouillabaisse_,
have more claim to rank as poetry, for they show much metrical
dexterity and in places a touch of real pathos.

=4. Features of his Works.= (_a_) _Their Reputation._ While Dickens
was in the full tide of his success Thackeray was struggling through
neglect and contempt to recognition. Thackeray’s genius blossomed
slowly, just as Fielding’s did; for that reason the fruit is more
mellow and matured, and perhaps on that account it will last the
longer. Once he had gained the favor of the public he held it, and
among outstanding English novelists there is none whose claim is so
little subject to challenge.

(_b_) _His Method._ “Since the writer of _Tom Jones_ was buried,” says
Thackeray in his preface to _Pendennis_, “no writer of fiction among us
has been permitted to depict to the best of his power a MAN. We must
shape him and give him a certain conventional temper.” Thackeray’s
novels are a protest against this convention. He returns to the
Fielding method: to view his characters steadily and fearlessly, and to
set on record their failings as well as their merits and capacities.
In his hands the results are not flattering to human nature, for most
of his clever people are rogues and most of his virtuous folk are
fools. But whether they are rogues, or fools, or merely blundering
incompetents, his creations are rounded, entire, and quite alive and
convincing.

(_c_) _His Humor and Pathos._ Much has been made of the sneering
cynicism of Thackeray’s humor, and a good deal of the criticism is
true. It was his desire to reveal the truth, and satire is one of his
most potent methods of revelation. His sarcasm, a deadly species, is
husbanded for deserving objects, such as Lord Steyne and (to a lesser
degree) Barnes Newcome. In the case of people who are only stupid, like
Rawdon Crawley, mercy tempers justice; and when Thackeray chooses to
do so he can handle a character with loving tenderness, as can be seen
in the case of Lady Castlewood and of Colonel Newcome. In pathos he
is seldom sentimental, being usually quiet and effective. But at the
thought of the vain, the arrogant, and the mean people of the world
Thackeray barbs his pen, with destructive results.

(_d_) His _style_ is very near to the ideal for a novelist. It is
effortless, and is therefore unobtrusive, detracting in no wise from
the interest in the story. It is also flexible to an extraordinary
degree. We have seen how in _Esmond_ he recaptured the Addisonian
style; this is only one aspect of his mimetic faculty, which in his
burlesques finds ample scope. We add a typical specimen of his style:

As they came up to the house at Walcote, the windows from within
were lighted up with friendly welcome; the supper-table was
spread in the oak-parlour; it seemed as if forgiveness and love
were awaiting the returning prodigal. Two or three familiar
faces of domestics were on the look-out at the porch--the old
housekeeper was there, and young Lockwood from Castlewood in
my lord’s livery of tawny and blue. His dear mistress pressed
his arm as they passed into the hall. Her eyes beamed out on
him with affection indescribable. “Welcome,” was all she said:
as she looked up, putting back her fair curls and black hood. A
sweet rosy smile blushed on her face: Harry thought he had never
seen her look so charming. Her face was lighted with a joy that
was brighter than beauty--she took a hand of her son who was in
the hall waiting his mother--she did not quit Esmond’s arm.
_Henry Esmond_

GEORGE MEREDITH (1828–1909)

Of the later Victorian novelists Meredith takes rank as the most
noteworthy.

=1. His Life.= The known details of Meredith’s earlier life are
still rather scanty, and he himself gives us little enlightenment. He
was born at Portsmouth, and until he was sixteen he was educated in
Germany. At first he studied law, but, rebelling against his legal
studies, took to literature as a profession, contributing to magazines
and newspapers. Like so many of the eager spirits of his day, he was
deeply interested in the struggles of Italy and Germany to be free.
For some considerable time he was reader to a London publishing house;
then, as his own books slowly won their way, he was enabled to give
more time to their composition. In 1867 he was appointed editor of
_The Fortnightly Review._ He died at his home at Boxhill, Surrey.

=2. His Poetry.= During all his career as a novelist Meredith published
much verse. _Chillianwallah_ (1849), his first published work, contains
much spirited verse; other works are _Modern Love_ (1862), _Ballads and
Poems_ (1887), and _Poems_ (1892). Like his novels, much of Meredith’s
poetry is almost willfully obscure, as it undoubtedly is in _Modern
Love_; but in the case of such poems as _The Nuptials of Attila_ he
is clear and vigorous. He loved nature and the open air, and in poems
like the beautiful _Love in the Valley_ such affection is brightly
visible. Like Swinburne, he was always eager to champion the cause of
the oppressed.

=3. His Novels.= Meredith’s first novel of importance is _The Ordeal
of Richard Feverel_ (1859). Almost at one stride he attains to his
full strength, for this novel is typical of much of his later work. In
plot it is rather weak, and almost incredible toward the end. It deals
with a young aristocrat educated on a system laboriously virtuous;
but youthful nature breaks the bonds, and complications follow. Most
of the characters are of the higher ranks of society, and they are
subtly analyzed and elaborately featured. They move languidly across
the story, speaking in a language as extraordinary, in its chiseled
epigrammatic precision, as that of the creatures of Congreve or Oscar
Wilde. The general style of the language is mannered in the extreme; it
is a kind of elaborate literary confectionery--it almost seems a pity
on the part of the hasty novel-reader to swallow it in rude mouthfuls.
Nevertheless, behind this appearance of artificiality there ranges a
mind both subtle and sure, an elfish, satiric spirit, and a passionate
ideal of artistic perfection. Such a novel could hardly hope for a
ready recognition; but its ultimate fame was assured.

The next novel was _Evan Harrington_ (1860), which contains some
details of Meredith’s own family life; then followed _Emilia in
England_ (1864), the name of which was afterward altered to _Sandra
Belloni_, in which the scene is laid partly in Italy. In _Rhoda
Fleming_ (1865) Meredith tried to deal with plebeian folks, but with
indifferent success. The heroines of his later novels--Meredith was
always careful to make his female characters at least as important as
his male ones--are aristocratic in rank and inclinations. _Vittoria_
(1867) is a sequel to _Sandra Belloni_, and contains much spirited
handling of the Italian insurrectionary movement. Then came _The
Adventures of Harry Richmond_ (1870), in which the scene is laid in
England, and _Beauchamp’s Career_ (1874), in which Meredith’s style
is seen in its most exaggerated form. In _The Egoist_ (1879), his
next novel, Meredith may be said to reach the climax of his art. The
style is fully matured, with much less surface glitter and more depth
and solidity; the treatment of the characters is close, accurate,
and amazingly detailed; and the Egoist himself, Sir Willoughby
Patterne--Meredith hunted the egoist as remorselessly as Thackeray
pursued the snob--is a triumph of comic artistry. The later novels
are of less merit. _The Tragic Comedians_ (1880) is chaotic in plot
and over-developed in style; and the same faults may be urged against
_Diana of the Crossways_ (1885), though it contains many beautiful
passages; _One of our Conquerors_ (1890) is nearly impossible in plot
and style, and _The Amazing Marriage_ (1895) is not much better.

We add a short typical specimen of Meredith’s style. Observe the
studied precision of phrase and epithet, the elaboration of detail, and
the imaginative power.

She had the mouth that smiles in repose. The lips met full on
the centre of the bow and thinned along to a lifting dimple;
the eyelids also lifted slightly at the outer corners and
seemed, like the lip into the limpid cheek, quickening up the
temples, as with a run of light, or the ascension indicated
off a shoot of colour. Her features were playfellows of one
another, none of them pretending to rigid correctness, nor
the nose to the ordinary dignity of governess among merry
girls, despite which the nose was of fair design, not acutely
interrogative or inviting to gambols. Aspens imaged in water,
waiting for the breeze, would offer a susceptible lover some
suggestion of her face; a pure smooth-white face, tenderly
flushed in the cheeks, where the gentle dints were faintly
intermelting even during quietness. Her eyes were brown, set
well between mild lids, often shadowed, not unwakeful. Her hair
of lighter brown, swelling above her temples on the sweep to
the knot, imposed the triangle of the fabulous wild woodland
visage from brow to mouth and chin, evidently in agreement
with her taste; and the triangle suited her; but her face was
not significant of a tameless wildness or of weakness; her
equable shut mouth threw its long curve to guard the small
round chin from that effect; her eyes wavered only in humour,
they were steady when thoughtfulness was awakened; and at such
seasons the build of her winter-beechwood hair lost the touch
of nymph-like and whimsical, and strangely, by mere outline,
added to her appearance of studious concentration. Observe the
hawk on stretched wings over the prey he spies, for an idea of
this change in the look of a young lady whom Vernon Whitford
could liken to the Mountain Echo, and Mrs Mountstuart Jenkinson
pronounced to be “a dainty rogue in porcelain.”
_The Egoist_

OTHER NOVELISTS

=1. Charlotte Brontë (1816–55)= is the most important of three
sisters, the other two being =Emily Brontë (1818–48)= and =Anne
Brontë (1820–49)=. They were the daughters of an Irish clergyman who
held a living in Yorkshire. Financial difficulties compelled Charlotte
to become a schoolteacher and then (1832) a governess. Along with Emily
she visited Brussels in 1842, and then returned home, where family
cares kept her closely tied. Later her books had much success, and so
she was released from many of her financial worries. She was married in
1854, but died in the next year. Her two younger sisters, brilliant but
erratic creatures, had predeceased her.

The three sisters began their career jointly with a volume of verse, in
which they respectively adopted the names of Currer, Ellis, and Acton
Bell. The poems, which appeared in 1846, are unusually fine in parts,
especially the pieces ascribed to Emily. Charlotte’s first novel, _The
Professor_, which was written before the poems were published, had
no success, and was not published till after her death. _Jane Eyre_
(1847), which was given to the world after _The Professor_ had failed
to find a publisher, created a stir by its unusual candor, passion, and
power. It was based on the work of Thackeray, whom Miss Brontë, in the
second edition of the book, acknowledged as her Master in the art of
fiction. Her other novels were _Shirley_ (1849) and _Villette_ (1853).

The truth and intensity of Charlotte’s work are unquestioned: she can
see and judge with the eye of a genius. But these merits have their
disadvantages. In the plots of her novels she is largely restricted to
her own experiences; her high seriousness is unrelieved by any humor;
and her passion is at times overcharged to the point of frenzy. But to
the novel she brought an energy and passion that gave to commonplace
people and actions the wonder and beauty of the romantic world.

Emily wrote a novel, _Wuthering Heights_ (1847), a wild effort, hit or
miss, at the tragical romance. Where she is successful she attains to
a tragical emphasis that is almost sublime; but as a whole the book is
too unequal to rank as very great.

The third sister, Anne, in her short life wrote two novels, _Agnes
Grey_ (1847) and _The Tenant of Wildfell Hall_ (1847). They are much
inferior to the novels of her sisters, for she lacks nearly all their
power and intensity.

=2. Charles Reade (1814–84)= was born in Oxfordshire, being the
youngest son of a squire. He was educated at Iffley and Oxford, and
then, entering Lincoln’s Inn, was called to the Bar. He was only
slightly interested in the legal profession, but very fond of the
theater and traveling. After 1852 he settled down to the career of the
successful man of letters. He died at Shepherd’s Bush.

He began authorship with the writing of plays. As a playwright he had
a fair amount of success, his most fortunate production being _Masks
and Faces_ (1852), written in collaboration with Tom Taylor. _Peg
Woffington_ (1853) was his first novel, and was followed by _Christie
Johnstone_ (1853), which deals with Scottish fisherfolk. _It’s Never
too Late to Mend_ (1856), sometimes considered to be his masterpiece,
treats of prisons and of life in the colonies. _The Cloister and the
Hearth_ (1861), one of his best novels, is a story of the later Middle
Ages, and shows the author’s immense care and knowledge; _Hard Cash_
(1863) is an attack upon private lunatic asylums; and _Griffith Gaunt_
(1866), _Foul Play_ (1869), and some other inferior books are in the
nature of propaganda against abuses of the time.

When he is at his best Reade tells a fine tale, for he can move with
speed and describe with considerable power. But he tends to overload
his narrative with historical and topical detail, of which he collected
great masses. His style, too, is frequently marred by annoying tricks
of manner, such as over-emphasis and mechanical repetition. Since his
own day his reputation has declined.

=3. Anthony Trollope (1815–82)= is another Victorian novelist who
just missed greatness. The son of a barrister, he was born in London,
educated at Harrow and Winchester, and obtained an appointment in the
Post Office. After an unpromising start he rapidly improved, and rose
high in the service.

In all Trollope wrote over fifty novels, the best of which are _The
Warden_ (1855), _Barchester Towers_ (1857), _Doctor Thorne_ (1858),
_Framley Parsonage_ (1861), and _The Last Chronicle of Barset_ (1867).
He is at his best when he deals with the lives of the clergymen of
the town that he calls Barchester, which has been identified with
Salisbury. His novels, owing to the rapidity of their output, tend
to become mechanical and ill constructed; but he has a genial humor,
a lively narrative method, and much shrewd observation. _Barchester
Towers_ contains several characters not unworthy of Dickens.

=4. Wilkie Collins (1824–89)= is considered to be the most successful
of the followers of Dickens. At one time, about 1860, his vogue was
nearly as great as that of Dickens himself. Collins was born in London,
and was a son of a famous painter. After a few years spent in business
he took to the study of the law, but very soon abandoned that for
literature. He was a versatile man, dabbling much in journalism and
play-writing.

Collins specialized in the mystery novel, to which he sometimes added
a spice of the supernatural. In many of his books the story, which is
often ingeniously complicated, is unfolded by letters or the narratives
of persons actually engaged in the events. To a certain extent this
method is cumbrous, but it allowed Collins to draw his characters
with much wealth of detail. His characters are often described in the
Dickensian manner of emphasizing some humor or peculiarity. He wrote
more than twenty-five novels, the most popular being _The Dead Secret_
(1857), _The Woman in White_ (1860)--the most successful of them
all--_No Name_ (1862), and _The Moonstone_ (1868). _The Moonstone_ is
one of the earliest and the best of the great multitude of detective
stories that now crowd the popular press. Collins was in addition one
of the first authors to devote himself to the short magazine story;
After Dark is a little masterpiece.

=5. George Eliot=--the pen name of =Mary Ann Evans (1819–80)=--was
during her lifetime reckoned to be among the greatest authors, but
time has dealt rather unkindly with her reputation. Even yet, however,
she ranks among the greatest of women novelists. The daughter of a
Warwickshire land-agent, she was born near Nuneaton, and after being
educated at Nuneaton and Coventry lived much at home. Her mind was
well above the ordinary in its bent for religious and philosophical
speculation. In 1846 she translated Strauss’s _Life of Jesus_, and on
the death of her father in 1849 she took entirely to literary work.
She was appointed assistant editor of the _Westminster Review_ (1851),
and became the center of a literary circle. In later life she traveled
extensively, and married (1880) Mr. J. W. Cross. She died at Chelsea in
the same year.

Her first fiction consisted of three short stories published in
_Blackwood’s Magazine_ and reissued under the title of _Scenes from
Clerical Life_ (1857). _Adam Bede_ (1859), her second book, was
brilliantly successful. It is a story of country life, subtly yet
powerfully told. To this succeeded _The Mill on the Floss_ (1860),
partly autobiographical. This book is longer and heavier than its
predecessor, but it has much tragic force and acute observation, and
a placidly caustic humor. _Silas Marner_ (1861) is shorter, crisper,
and exceedingly effective, but _Romola_ (1863), a laborious story of
medieval Florence, is overweighted with learning and philosophizing.
After this point the decline is rapid in _Felix Holt_ (1866),
_Middlemarch_ (1872), _Daniel Deronda_ (1876), and _The Impressions of
Theophrastus Such_ (1879).

In some respects George Eliot is first rate: in humorous observation
of country folk, in keen analysis of motive, and in a curious kind of
grim subdued passion. But she lacks fire and rapidity, and is deficient
in the warmer kind of humanity. The consequence is that, especially in
the later books, when the heart became subordinated to the head, her
people are icily unreal. In these last books, moreover, she allowed her
religious, racial, and political theories to run away with her, and
thus to ruin her work as artistic fiction.

=6. Charles Kingsley (1819–75)= was a Devonshire man, being born at
Holne and brought up at Clovelly. He completed his education at Oxford
(1842), where he was very successful as a student, and took orders.
During his early manhood he was a strenuous Christian Socialist,
and for the first few years of his curacy he devoted himself to the
cause of the poor. All his life was spent, first as curate and then
as rector, at Eversley, in Hampshire. In the course of time his books
brought him honors, including the professorship of history at Oxford
and a chaplaincy to the Queen.

His first novels, _Alton Locke_ (1849) and _Yeast_ (1849), deal in a
robust fashion with the social questions of his day. They are crude
in their methods, but they were effective both as fiction and social
propaganda. _Hypatia_ (1853) has for its theme the struggle between
early Christianity and intellectual paganism; in workmanship it is less
immature, but the cruelly tragic conclusion made it less popular than
the others. _Westward Ho!_ (1855), a tale of the good old days of Queen
Elizabeth, marks the climax of his career as a novelist. At first the
book strikes the reader as being wordy and diffuse, and all through it
is marred with much tedious abuse of Roman Catholics; but once the tale
roams abroad into exciting scenes it moves with a buoyant zest, and
reflects with romantic exuberance the spirit of the early sea-rovers.
_Two Years Ago_ (1857) and _Hereward the Wake_ (1866) did not recapture
the note of their great predecessor.

Kingsley excels as the manly and straightforward story-teller.
His characters, though they are clearly stamped and visualized,
lack delicacy of finish, yet they suit his purpose excellently. In
treatment he revels in a kind of florid description which is not always
successful.

As a poet Kingsley achieved some remarkable results, especially in his
short poems. Of these a few, including the familiar _Sands of Dee_,
_The Three Fishers_, and _Airly Beacon_, are of the truly lyrical cast:
short, profoundly passionate, and perfectly phrased. His longer poems,
such as _The Saint’s Tragedy_ (1848), are not nearly so good. Kingsley
could write also a rhythmic semi-poetical prose, as is seen in his book
of stories from the Greek myths called _The Heroes_ (1856) and to a
less degree in his delightful fantasy _The Water Babies_ (1863).

=7. Walter Besant (1836–1901)= is a good example of the class of light
novelist that flourished in the later Victorian epoch. He was born at
Portsmouth, educated at London and Cambridge, held a professorship
in Mauritius, and then, returning to England (1868), settled down to
the life of a novelist. Along with =James Rice (1844–82)= he wrote
many novels, including _Ready-Money Mortiboy_ (1872) and _The Golden
Butterfly_ (1876). These books do not aspire to be great literature,
but they are healthy and amusing productions.

=8. George Borrow (1803–81)= had a curious career which did not lose
its interest from his method of telling its story. He was born in
Norfolk, and was the son of a soldier. From his earliest manhood he led
a wandering life, and consorted with queer people, of whose languages
and customs he was a quick observer. At one stage of his career he
was a colporteur for the Bible Society, visiting Spain and Morocco
(1835–39). Then he married a lady with a considerable income, and died
a landed proprietor in comfortable circumstances.

His principal books were _The Bible in Spain_ (1843), telling of his
adventures as an agent of the Bible Society; _Lavengro_ (1851) and _The
Romany Rye_ (1857), dealing with his life among the gypsies; and _Wild
Wales_ (1862). His books are remarkable in that they seriously pretend
to tell the actual facts of the author’s life, but how much is fact and
how much is fiction will never be accurately known, so great is his
power of imagination. Taken as mere fiction, the books exert a strong
and strange fascination on many readers. They have a naïve simplicity
resembling that of Goldsmith, a wry humor, and a quick and natural
shrewdness. As a blend of fact and fiction, of hard detail and misty
imagination, of sly humor and stockish solemnity, the books stand apart
in our literature.

=9. Richard D. Blackmore (1825–1900)= was born in Berkshire, and
educated at Tiverton and Oxford. He was called to the Bar, but forsook
the law for the occupation of a farmer, which suited him much better.
He died at Teddington-on-Thames.

He began authorship by writing verse of little value; then turned to
writing novels, which are much worthier as literature. The best of
these are _Lorna Doone_ (1869), an excellent historical romance of
Exmoor, _The Maid of Sker_ (1872), and _Cripps the Carrier_ (1876).
Blackmore had little skill in contriving plots, and many of his
characters, especially his wicked characters, carry little conviction.
Yet he has a rare capacity for tale-telling, a real enthusiasm for
nature, and a romantic eloquence of style that falls little short of
greatness. _Lorna Doone_ stands high among historical novels.

=10. Robert Louis Stevenson (1850–94)= was born at Edinburgh, and
was called to the Scottish Bar. He had little taste for the legal
profession, and a constitutional tendency to consumption made an
outdoor life necessary. He traveled much in an erratic manner, and
wrote for periodicals. Then, when his malady became acute, he migrated
to Samoa (1888), where the mildness of the climate only delayed a death
which came all too prematurely. He lies buried in Samoa.

His first published works were of the essay nature, and included _An
Inland Voyage_ (1879), _Travels with a Donkey_ (1879), and _Virginibus
Puerisque_ (1881). His next step was into romance, in which he began
with _The New Arabian Nights_ (1882), and then had real success with
_Treasure Island_ (1883), a stirring yarn of pirates and perilous
seas. Then came _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ (1886), a fine example of
the terror-mystery novel, and several historical novels: _Kidnapped_
(1887), _The Black Arrow_ (1888), _The Master of Ballantrae_ (1889),
and _Catriona_ (1893), which was a sequel to _Kidnapped_. With the
exception of _The Black Arrow_, the historical novels deal with
Scotland in the eighteenth century. At his death he left a powerful
fragment, _Weir of Hermiston_.

In the novel Stevenson carries on the tradition of George Meredith. He
applies to the novel a cultivated style and a laborious craftsmanship.
These features would in themselves have made his novels unattractive,
but to them he added a pawky sense of humor, a swift and brilliant
descriptive faculty, and a wide knowledge of and a deep regard for
the lore of his native land. Compared with Scott he seems cramped
and finicking in his methods, and his outlook is sometimes crude and
juvenile, but his finer qualities more than atone for his shortcomings.

Stevenson’s poetry is charming and dexterous, excelling in its
treatment of child-nature. His best volumes are _A Child’s Garden of
Verses_ (1885), _Underwoods_ (1887), and _Ballads_ (1889).

=11. Samuel Butler (1835–1902)= was born in Nottinghamshire, and
educated at Shrewsbury and Cambridge. In 1860 he emigrated to New
Zealand, where a few years’ successful sheep-farming allowed him to
return to England and live a modest literary life. Butler was a man who
harbored unusual ideas on music, art, education, and social conditions
in general. His mind was at once cultured and credulous; and his gift
of pungent language gave him much influence among the more ardent and
advanced minds of his day.

His first work, _Erewhon_ (1872), appeared originally in a
newspaper in New Zealand. It is a combination of _Gulliver’s
Travels_ and _Utopia_ adapted to modern life, and full of
Butler’s odd prejudices and sardonic wit. Its acute thinking and solid
narrative gifts are also very apparent. His great novel _The Way of
All Flesh_ was published posthumously in 1903. It is modern enough
in its keen satire upon conventional education and parental methods
of control and in its candid personal disclosures. As time goes on the
work will probably take its place as one of the outstanding novels of
the period.

THOMAS CARLYLE (1795–1881)

=1. His Life.= Carlyle, who was born at Ecclefechan, in
Dumfriesshire, was the son of a stonemason. He was educated at Annan
and at Edinburgh University, and, giving up his intention of entering
the Church, became for a time a schoolteacher in Kirkcaldy. After a few
years’ teaching, during which he saved a little money, he abandoned the
profession and removed to Edinburgh, where he did literary hack-work
for a living. At this time (1818) he was poor in means and wretched
in health, and his spiritual and bodily torments are revealed in
_Sartor Resartus_. In 1828 he married Jane Welsh, an able woman
who possessed a little property of her own; and after a brief spell
of married life in Edinburgh they removed to Craigenputtock, a small
estate in the wilds of Dumfriesshire owned by Mrs. Carlyle. Here they
lived unhappily enough, but here Carlyle wrote some of his best-known
books. In 1834 they removed to London, and settled permanently
in Chelsea. Carlyle’s poverty was still acute, and as a means of
alleviating it he took to lecturing. He was moderately successful
in the effort. Then his books, at first received with complete
indifference or positive amazement and disgust, began to find favor,
and for the last twenty years of his life he was prominent among the
intellectual leaders of the time. His wife died in 1866, and in his
latter years he was much afflicted with illness and by his deep concern
for the state of public affairs. He died at Chelsea, and was buried
among his own people at Ecclefechan.

=2. His Works.= Carlyle’s earliest work consisted of translations,
essays, and biographies. Of these the best are his translation of
Goethe’s _Wilhelm Meister_ (1824), his _Life of Schiller_ (1825),
and his essays on Burns and Scott. Then _Sartor Resartus_ (1833)
appeared piecemeal in _Fraser’s Magazine_. It is an extraordinary book,
pretending to contain the opinions of a German professor; but under
a thin veil of fiction Carlyle discloses his own spiritual struggles
during his early troubled years. The style is violent and exclamatory,
and the meaning is frequently obscured in a torrent of words, but
it has an energy and a rapturous ecstasy of revolt that quite take
the breath away. Carlyle then turned to historical writing, which he
handled in his own unconventional fashion. His major historical works
are _The French Revolution_ (1837), a series of vivid word-pictures
rather than sober history, but full of audacity and color; _Oliver
Cromwell’s Letters and Speeches_ (1845), a huge effort relieved from
tedium only by Carlyle’s volcanic methods; _The Life of John Sterling_
(1851), a slight work, but more genial and humane than his writing
usually is; and _The Life of Frederick II_ (1865), enormous in scale
and heavy with detail. His works dealing with contemporary events are
numerous, and include _Chartism_ (1839), _Past and Present_ (1843), and
_Latter-day Pamphlets_ (1850). The series of lectures he delivered in
1837 was published as _Heroes and Hero-worship_ (1840).

=3. Features of his Works.= (_a_) _His Teaching._ It is now a little
difficult to understand why Carlyle was valued so highly as a sage in
moral and political affairs. Throughout his works there is much froth
and thunder, but little of anything that (to a later age) is solid and
capable of analysis. Carlyle, however, was a man of sterling honesty,
of sagacious and powerful mind, which he applied without hesitation
to the troubles of his time. His influence, therefore, was rather
personal, like that of Dr. Johnson, and cannot be accurately gauged
from his written works. His opinions were widely discussed and widely
accepted, and his books had the force of _ex cathedra_ pronouncements.
In them he sometimes contradicted himself, but he did great service
in his denunciation of shams and tyrannies, and in his tempestuous
advocacy of hard work and clear thinking.

(_b_) _His Historical Method._ Carlyle’s method was essentially
biographical--he sought out the “hero,” the superman who could
benevolently dominate his fellows, and compel them to do better.
Such were his Cromwell and his Frederick. His other aim was to make
history alive. He denounced the “Dryasdust” who killed the living
force in history. To achieve his purpose he sought out and recorded
infinite detail of life and opinion, and by means of his own masculine
imagination and pithy style he brought the subject vividly before his
reader’s eye.

(_c_) His _style_ is entirely his own. At the first glance a
typical passage seems rude and uncouth: with many capital letters in
the German fashion, with broken phrases and ejaculations, he proceeds
amid a torrent of whirling words. Yet he is flexible to a wonderful
degree: he can command a beauty of expression that wrings the very
heart: a sweet and piercing melody, with a suggestion, always present,
yet always remote, of infinite regret and longing. In such divine
moments his style has the lyrical note that requires only the lyrical
meter to become great poetry.[223]

The following are two specimens of his style. The first, based on
German models, is in his cruder early manner; the second is more
matured and restrained. Note in this the quizzical humor.

(1) “_Es leuchtet mir ein_, I see a glimpse of it!” cries he
elsewhere: “there is in man a HIGHER than Love of Happiness: he
can do without Happiness, and instead thereof find Blessedness!
Was it not to preach-forth this same HIGHER that sages and
martyrs, the Poet and the Priest, in all times, have spoken and
suffered; bearing testimony, through life and through death,
of the Godlike that is in Man, and how in the Godlike only has
he Strength and Freedom? Which God-inspired Doctrine art thou
also honoured to be taught; O Heavens! and broken with manifold
merciful Afflictions, even till thou become contrite, and learn
it! O, thank thy Destiny for these; thankfully bear what yet
remain: thou hadst need of them; the Self in thee needed to be
annihilated. By benignant fever-paroxysms is Life rooting out
the deep-seated chronic Disease, and triumphs over Death. On the
roaring billows of Time, thou art not engulfed, but borne aloft
into the azure of Eternity. Love not Pleasure; love God. This
is the EVERLASTING YEA, wherein all contradiction is solved:
wherein whoso walks and works, it is well with him.”
_Sartor Resartus_

(2) The good man,[224] he was now getting old, towards sixty
perhaps; and gave you the idea of a life that had been full of
sufferings; a life heavy-laden, half-vanquished, still swimming
painfully in seas of manifold physical and other bewilderment.
Brow and head were round, and of massive weight, but the face
was flabby and irresolute. The deep eyes, of a light hazel,
were as full of sorrow as of inspiration; confused pain looked
mildly from them, as in a kind of mild astonishment. The whole
figure and air, good and amiable otherwise, might be called
flabby and irresolute; expressive of weakness under possibility
of strength. He hung loosely on his limbs, with knees bent,
and stooping attitude; in walking, he rather shuffled than
decisively stept; and a lady once remarked, he never could
fix which side of the garden walk would suit him best, but
continually shifted, in cork-screw fashion, and kept trying
both. A heavy-laden, high-aspiring, and surely much-suffering
man. His voice, naturally soft and good, had contracted
itself into a plaintive snuffle and sing-song; he spoke as if
preaching,--you would have said, preaching earnestly and also
hopelessly the weightiest things. I still recollect his “object”
and “subject,” terms of continual recurrence in the Kantean
province, and how he sang and snuffled them into “om-m-mject,”
“sum-m-mject,” with a kind of solemn shake or quaver, as he
rolled along. No talk, in his century or in any other, could be
more surprising.
_The Life of John Sterling_

THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY (1800–59)

=1. His Life.= Macaulay was born in Leicestershire, his father being
Zachary Macaulay, the earnest upholder of negro emancipation. Macaulay
was educated privately, and then at Cambridge. From his infancy he was
remarkable for his precocity and his prodigious memory. At Cambridge he
twice won the Chancellor’s Medal for English verse; and after taking
high honors he was called to the Bar. By this time his father’s
business had collapsed, and Macaulay had to depend partly upon his pen
for a living. At first he contributed to _Knight’s Quarterly_, but
later he began writing his famous essays for _The Edinburgh Review_.
Having entered Parliament as a Whig (1830), a very promising political
career seemed to be opening before him when he accepted a lucrative
legal post in India. He was in India for four years; then, returning to
England, he re-entered political life, and became in turn Secretary of
State for War and Paymaster of the Forces. In 1857 he was raised to the
peerage, and died when he was still busy with his _History_.

=2.= His =poetry= was nearly all written early in his career, and most
of it is included in his _Lays of Ancient Rome_ (1842). In style the
poems resemble the narrative poems of Scott, and in subject they are
based upon the legends of early Rome, the best-known dealing with the
story of Horatius. His verse is virile stuff, moving with vigor and
assurance, and is full of action and color. Like his prose, however, it
is hard and brassy, and quite lacking in the softer qualities of melody
and sweetness and in the rich suggestiveness of the early ballad. It
is not great poetry, but it will always be popular with those who like
plenty of action and little contemplation.

=3. His Prose Works.= Before he left for India Macaulay had written
twenty-two essays for _The Edinburgh Review_; he added three during his
stay in India, and finished eleven others after he returned to England.
With the five biographies that he contributed to _The Encyclopedia
Britannica_, these include all his shorter prose works. The essays
are of two kinds--those dealing with literary subjects, such as those
on Milton, Byron, and Southey, and the historical studies, including
the famous compositions on Warren Hastings and Lord Clive. His method
of essay-writing was as follows: he brought under review a set of
volumes that had already been published on the subject, then, after
a survey, long or short as the case might be, of these volumes, gave
his own views at great length. His opinions were often one-sided, and
his great parade of knowledge was often flawed with actual error or
distorted by his craving for antithesis and epigram; but the essays
are clearly and ably written, and they disclose an eye for picturesque
effect that in places is almost barbaric.

His _History of England_, the first volume of which was published in
1849, was unfinished at his death. After two long preliminary chapters,
it began with the Whig revolution of 1688, and Macaulay intended
to carry the story down to his own time. But he managed to compass
within the three completed volumes only the events of a few years.
His historical treatment is marked by the following features: (_a_)
There are numerous and picturesque details, which retard his narrative
while they add to the general interest. (_b_) The desire for brilliant
effect resulted in a hard, self-confident manner, and in a lack of
broader outlines and deeper views. These defects have deprived his
_History_ of much of its permanent value. (_c_) To this he added such
a partiality for the Whig point of view that his statements, though
they are always interesting and illuminating, are generally distrusted
as statements of fact. To sum up, he said, “I shall not be satisfied
unless I produce something which shall for a few days supersede the
last fashionable novel on the tables of young ladies.” He had full
reason to be satisfied; his book had an instant and enormous success,
which, however, has been followed by distrust and neglect.

The extract given below gives some idea of his style. It is entirely
direct and clear, and free from any shade of doubt and hesitancy.
Observe the use of the short detached sentence, and the copious and
expressive vocabulary:

Then was committed that great crime, memorable for its singular
atrocity, memorable for the tremendous retribution by which
it was followed. The English captives were left at the mercy
of the guards, and the guards determined to secure them for
the night in the prison of the garrison, a chamber known by
the fearful name of the Black Hole. Even for a single European
malefactor, that dungeon would, in such a climate, have been
too close and narrow. The space was only twenty feet square.
The air-holes were small and obstructed. It was the summer
solstice, the season when the fierce heat of Bengal can scarcely
be rendered tolerable to natives of England by lofty halls and
by the constant waving of fans. The number of the prisoners was
one hundred and forty-six. When they were ordered to enter the
cell, they imagined that the soldiers were joking; and, being
in high spirits on account of the promise of the Nabob to spare
their lives, they laughed and jested at the absurdity of the
notion. They soon discovered their mistake. They expostulated;
they entreated; but in vain. The guards threatened to cut down
all who hesitated. The captives were driven into the cell at the
point of the sword, and the door was instantly shut and locked
upon them.
_Essay on Clive_

JOHN RUSKIN (1819–1900)

=1. His Life.= Ruskin was born in London, of Scottish parentage,
and was educated privately before he went to Oxford. During his
boyhood he often traveled with his father, whose business activities
involved journeys both in England and abroad. After leaving the
university Ruskin, who did not need to earn a living, settled down
to a literary career. He was not long in developing advanced notions
on art, politics, economics, and other subjects. In art he was in
particular devoted to the cause of the landscape-painter Turner, and
in social and economic theories he was an advocate of an advanced form
of socialism. To the present generation his ideas appear innocuous, or
even inevitable, but by the public of his own day they were received
with shocked dismay. At first the only notice he received was in the
jeers of his adversaries; but gradually his fame spread as he freely
expounded his opinions in lectures and pamphlets, as well as in his
longer books. In 1869 he was appointed Slade Professor of Fine Arts at
Oxford. Illness, however, which was aggravated by hard work and mental
worries, led him to resign (1879) after a few years; and though shortly
afterward (1883) he resumed the post, it had at last to be abandoned.
He retired to Brantwood, on Coniston Water, in the Lake District, where
he lived till his death, his later years being clouded by disease and
despair.

=2. His Works.= Ruskin’s works are of immense volume and complexity.
They were often issued in a haphazard fashion, and this makes it all
the more difficult to follow the order of their publication. For a
start he plunged into what turned out to be the longest of his books,
_Modern Painters_, the first volume of which was issued in 1843 and
the fifth and last in 1860. This work, beginning as a thesis in
defense of the painting of Turner, develops Ruskin’s opinions on many
other subjects. The first volume was not long in attracting notice,
chiefly owing to its sumptuous style, which was of a kind unknown in
English for centuries. _The Seven Lamps of Architecture_ (1849) is a
shorter and more popular work, which once again expounds his views on
artistic matters. _The Stones of Venice_ (1851–53), in four volumes,
is considered to be his masterpiece both in thought and style. It is
less diffuse than _Modern Painters_; there is a little more plan in the
immense array of discursive matter; and the luxuriance of the style is
somewhat curtailed. His other writings are of a miscellaneous kind,
and comprise _The Two Paths_ (1859), a course of lectures; _Unto this
Last_ (1860), a series of articles on political economy which began
to appear in _The Cornhill Magazine_, but were stopped owing to their
hostile reception; _Munera Pulveris_ (1862), also an unfinished series
of articles on political economy, published in _Fraser’s Magazine_, and
also withdrawn owing to their advanced views; _The Crown of Wild Olive_
(1864), a series of addresses; _Sesame and Lilies_ (1865), a course of
three lectures, which is now the most popular of his shorter works; and
_Præterita_, which first began to appear in 1855, and which is a kind
of autobiography.

=3. His Style.= Ruskin himself often deplored the fact that people
read him more for his style than for his creed. His views, which he
argued with power and sincerity, must in time give way to others; many
of them are now self-evident, so rapid sometimes is the progress of the
human intellect; but his prose style, an art as delicate and beautiful
as any of those he spent his life in supporting, will long remain a
delectable study. For its like we must return to the prose of Milton
and Clarendon, and refine and sweeten the manner of these early masters
to reproduce the effect that Ruskin achieves. In its less ornate
passages Ruskin’s diction is marked by a sweet and unforced simplicity;
but his pages abound in purple passages, which are marked by sentences
of immense length, carefully punctuated, by a gorgeous march of image
and epithet, and by a sumptuous rhythm that sometimes grows into actual
blank verse capable of scansion. In his later books Ruskin to a certain
extent eschewed his grandiose manner, and wrote the language of the
Bible, modernized and made supple; but to the very end he was always
able to rise to the lyrical mood and fill a page with a strong and
sonorous sentence.

The paragraph given below, it will be noticed, is one sentence. Observe
the minute care given to the punctuation, the aptness of epithet, and
the rhythm, which in several places is so regular that the matter can
be scanned like poetry.

Then let us pass farther towards the north, until we see the
orient colours change gradually into a vast belt of rainy green,
where the pastures of Switzerland, and poplar valleys of France,
and dark forests of the Danube and Carpathians stretch from the
mouths of the Loire to those of the Volga, seen through clefts
in gray swirls of rain-cloud and flaky veils of the mist of
the brooks, spreading low along the pasture lands: and then,
farther north still, to see the earth heave into mighty masses
of leaden rock and heathy moor, bordering with a broad waste of
gloomy purple that belt of field and wood, and splintering into
irregular and grisly islands amidst the northern seas, beaten by
storm, and chilled by ice-drift, and tormented by furious pulses
of contending tide, until the roots of the last forests fall
from among the hill ravines, and the hunger of the north wind
bites their peaks into barrenness; and, at last, the wall of
ice, durable like iron, sets, deathlike, its white teeth against
us out of the polar twilight.
_The Stones of Venice_

OTHER WRITERS OF MISCELLANEOUS PROSE

=1. John Addington Symonds (1840–93)= was among the foremost of the
literary critics who flourished after the middle of the century. He
was the son of a Bristol physician, and was educated at Harrow and
Oxford. A tendency to consumption checked whatever desire he had to
study the law, and much of his life was spent abroad.

A large proportion of his work was contributed to periodicals, and was
collected and issued in volume form. The best collection is _Studies of
the Greek Poets_ (1873). His longest work is _The Renaissance in Italy_
(1875–86), in which he contests Ruskin’s views on art. In style he is
often ornate and even florid, and in treatment he can be diffuse to
tediousness; but as a critic he is shrewd and well informed.

=2. Walter Horatio Pater (1839–94)= was, both as a stylist and as a
literary critic, superior to Symonds. Born in London, he was educated
at Canterbury and Oxford, becoming finally a Fellow of Brasenose.
He devoted himself to art and literature, producing some remarkable
volumes on these subjects.

His first essays appeared in book-form as _Studies in the History of
the Renaissance_ (1878), and were concerned chiefly with art; _Marius
the Epicurean_ (1885) is a remarkable philosophical novel, and is the
best example of his distinguished style; _Imaginary Portraits_ (1887)
deals with artists; and _Appreciations_ (1889) is on literary themes,
and is prefaced by an important essay on style.

Pater’s individual style is among the most notable of the latter
part of the century. It is the creation of immense application and
forethought; every word is conned, every sentence proved, and every
rhythm appraised, until we have the perfection of finished workmanship.
It is never cheap, but firm and equable, with the strength and
massiveness of bronze. Its very perfections are a burden, especially
in his novel; it tends to become frigid and lifeless, and the subtle
dallyings with refinements of meaning thin it down to mere euphuism. In
the novel the action is chilled, and the characters frozen until they
resemble rather a group of statuary than a collection of human beings.

=3. James Anthony Froude (1818–94)= was born near Totnes, where his
father was archdeacon. After three years at Westminster School he
proceeded to Oxford, where he was not long in feeling the effects of
the High Church movement led by Newman. From this he afterward broke
away, and was elected to a fellowship at Exeter College. He toiled
ardently at literary work, contributing freely to _The Westminster
Review_ and other magazines. In 1860 he became editor of _Fraser’s
Magazine_.

Froude was a man of strong opinions, to which he gave free expression
both by voice and pen, and his career was often marked with
controversy. His handling of the life of Carlyle provoked much angry
comment. In the course of time his true merits came to be valued
adequately, and after being appointed to several Government commissions
he was elected (1892) Regius Professor of History at Oxford.

Froude’s miscellaneous work was published in four volumes called
_Short Studies on Great Subjects_ (1867–83). His _History of England_
(1856–69) was issued in twelve volumes. In period it covers the time of
the Reformation, and in method it follows the lead of Carlyle in its
great detail and picturesque description. In its general attitude it is
an indirect, and therefore an unfair, attack upon the High Church views
of Newman. The work, nevertheless, is composed with much vigor, and is
in the main accurate, though slightly lax in detail. Other books are
_The English in Ireland_ (1871–74), _Cæsar_ (1879), _Oceana_ (1886),
and an Irish novel, _The Two Chiefs of Dunboy_ (1889). His biography of
Carlyle was issued during the period 1882–84.

=4. The Historians.= The nineteenth century produced many historical
writers, of whom only a very few can find a place here.

(_a_) =Alexander Kinglake (1809–91)= was born near Taunton, and
educated at Eton and Cambridge. He was called to the Bar, and
practiced with some success, but in 1856 he retired to devote himself
to literature. He saw much of the world, and watched the progress of
the war in the Crimea. In 1857 he became Member of Parliament for
Bridgwater.

His _History of the Crimean War_ (1863–87) is enormously bulky and full
of detail. In attitude it is too favorable to the British commander,
Lord Raglan, and in style it is tawdry; at its best, however, it is a
picturesque narrative. His other work of note is _Eothen_ (1844), a
clever account of Eastern travel.

(_b_) =John Richard Green (1837–83)= was born and educated at Oxford,
and became a curate in the East End of London. He was delicate in
health, and was compelled to retire from his charge in 1869. His last
years were spent in writing his historical works.

Of these works the best is _A Short History of the English People_
(1874), which at once took rank as one of the few popular text-books
which are also literature. It is devoted to the history of the _people_
and not to wars and high politics. It is told with a terse simplicity
that is quite admirable. _The Making of England_ (1882) and _The
Conquest of England_ (1883) are the only two other works he lived to
finish.

(_c_) =Edward Augustus Freeman (1823–92)= was celebrated as the chief
opponent of Froude. He was educated privately, and then at Oxford,
where he became a Fellow of Trinity College and Regius Professor
of Modern History (1884). He wrote many historical works, the most
valuable of which are _The History of the Norman Conquest_ (1867–79)
and _The Reign of William Rufus_ (1882). Freeman specialized in certain
periods of English history, which he treated laboriously and at great
length. This, as well as his arid style, makes his history unattractive
to read, but he did much solid and enthusiastic work for the benefit of
his students and successors.

=5. The Scientists.= The nineteenth century beheld the exposition
of scientific themes raised to the level of a literary art.

(_a_) =Hugh Miller (1802–56)= was a natural genius, self-taught and
self-inspired. He was born at Cromarty, in the north of Scotland, and
became a stonemason, in which capacity he studied geology. In 1835 he
became an accountant in a bank. He wrote much for the periodical press,
and his writing attracted considerable notice. Latterly he suffered
from mental disorder, and in the end committed suicide.

_The Old Red Sandstone_ (1841) contains much patient observation of
geological fact, and is still regarded as a valuable contribution to
the subject; _The Testimony of the Rocks_ (1857) appeared after his
death. He wrote a little fiction of mediocre quality, published as
_Tales and Sketches_ (1863). Miller’s style is unforced and often
impressive, and for sincerity, piety, and homely wisdom his books leave
little to be desired.

(_b_) =Charles Darwin (1809–82)= is one of the greatest names in
modern science. He was born at Shrewsbury, where he received his early
education, passing later to Cambridge. In 1831 he became naturalist in
_The Beagle_, a man-of-war that went around the world on a scientific
mission. This lucky chance determined his career as a scientist. The
remainder of his life was laboriously uneventful, being devoted almost
wholly to biological and allied studies.

His chief works are _The Voyage of the Beagle_ (1836), a mine of
accurate and interesting facts; _The Origin of Species_ (1859),
which is to modern science what _The Wealth of Nations_ is to modern
economics--the foundation of belief; and _The Descent of Man_ (1871).
We cannot discuss his theories of evolution, but as general literature
his books possess a living interest owing to their rich array of
garnered evidence and their masterly gifts of exposition and argument.

(_c_) =Thomas Henry Huxley (1825–95)= was one of the ablest and most
energetic of Darwin’s supporters. He was born at Ealing, and became a
surgeon in the Navy. His first post was on Nelson’s _Victory_. Like
Darwin, he traveled abroad on a warship, _The Rattlesnake_, and during
these four years (1846–50) he saw and learned much. Retiring from
the Navy, he took enthusiastically to scientific research, and became
President of the Royal Society and a prominent public figure in the
heated discussions concerning the theories that were then so new and
disturbing.

Huxley produced no work in the same class as _The Origin of Species_.
His work consisted of lectures and addresses, which were issued in
volume form as _Man’s Place in Nature_ (1863), _Lay Sermons and
Addresses_ (1870), and _American Lectures_ (1877).

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

The Victorian epoch was exceedingly productive of literary work of a
high quality, but the amount of actual innovation is by no means great.
Writers were as a rule content to work upon former models, and the
improvements they did achieve were often dubious and unimportant.

=1. Poetry.= (_a_) The _lyrical_ output is very large and varied, as
a glance through the works of the poets already mentioned will show.
In form there is little of fresh interest. Tennyson was content to
follow the methods of Keats, though Browning’s complicated forms and
Swinburne’s long musical lines were more freely used by them than by
any previous writers.

(_b_) In _descriptive and narrative poetry_ there is a greater advance
to chronicle. In subject--for example, in the poems of Browning and
Morris--there is great variety, embracing many climes and periods; in
method there is much diversity, ranging from the cultured elegance of
Tennyson’s English landscapes to the wild impressionism of Whitman
in America. The Pre-Raphaelite school, also, united several features
which had not been seen before in combination. These were a fondness
for medieval themes treated in an unconventional manner, a richly
colored pictorial effect, and a studied and melodious simplicity. The
works of Rossetti, Morris, and Swinburne provide many examples of this
development of poetry. On the whole we can say that the Victorians were
strongest on the descriptive side of poetry, which agreed with the
more meditative habits of the period, as contrasted with the warmer and
more lyrical emotions of the previous age.

There were many attempts at purely narrative poetry, with interesting
results. Tennyson thought of reviving the epic, but in him the
epical impulse was not sufficiently strong, and his great narrative
poem was produced as smaller fragments which he called idylls.
Browning’s _Ring and the Book_ is curious, for it can be called a
psychological epic--a narrative in which emotion removes action from
the chief place. In this class of poetry _The Earthly Paradise_ of
William Morris is a return to the old romantic tale as we find it in
the works of Chaucer.

=2. Drama.= Nearly all the major poets of the period wrote tragedy
on the lines of the accepted models. Few of these attained to real
distinction; they were rather the conscientious efforts of men who
were striving to succeed in the impossible task of really reviving the
poetical drama. Of them all, Swinburne’s tragedies, especially those
concerned with Mary Queen of Scots, possess the greatest warmth and
energy; and Browning’s earlier plays, before he over-developed his
style, have sincerity and sometimes real dramatic power. As for comedy,
it was almost wholly neglected as a purely literary form.

A development to be noticed is the popularity of the _dramatic
monologue_. In _Ulysses_, _Tithonus_, and other pieces Tennyson
achieved some of his most successful results; and Browning’s host of
monologues, wide in range and striking in detail, are perhaps his
greatest contribution to literature. The method common to this kind of
monologue was to take some character and make him reveal his inmost
self in his own words.

=3. Prose.= (_a_) By the middle of the nineteenth century the _novel_,
as a species of literature, had thrust itself into the first rank. We
shall therefore consider it first.

In the novels of Thackeray and Dickens the various qualities of the
domestic novel are gathered together and carried a stage forward.
Dickens did much to idealize the England of his day, and to depict
the life of the lower and middle classes with imagination and humor.
As a satirist and an observer of manners Thackeray easily excels his
contemporaries. The other novelists were to a great extent gleaners
in the spacious field that was reaped by the two greater writers.
Charlotte Brontë supplied a somber passion that colored the drabness of
her life; Trollope specialized with his parsons; Collins wrote mystery
stories. Of the rest, George Eliot showed a closeness of application
to the mental process of her characters that was carried further in
the work of Meredith, and has led to the “psychological” novels of the
present day.

In _Esmond_ the historical novel made an advance. Here Thackeray was
not content to master the history of the period he described; he sought
to reproduce also the language and atmosphere. This is an extremely
difficult thing to achieve, and is possible only in novels dealing with
a limited period of time, but Thackeray scored a remarkable success.

(_b_) The development of the _Short story_, as a separate species of
literature, will be touched upon in the next chapter.

(_c_) In the case of the _essay_ we have to note the expansion of the
literary type into the treatise-in-little. This method was made popular
by Macaulay, and continued by Carlyle, Symonds, Pater, and many others.
Of the miscellaneous essayists, both Dickens, in some parts of _The
Uncommercial Traveller_, and Thackeray, in _The Roundabout Papers_,
successfully practiced the shorter Addisonian type; and this again was
enlarged and made more pretentious by Ruskin, Pater, and Stevenson.

(_d_) The _lecture_ becomes a prominent literary species for a time.
Carlyle, Thackeray, Dickens, and many others both in England and
America published lectures in book-form. Earlier critics like Hazlitt
and Coleridge had done so; but, almost for the first time, Ruskin gave
a distinct style and manner to the lecture.

(_e_) The _historians_ are strongly represented. Carlyle and Macaulay,
in spite of their great industry and real care for history, have
now fallen behind in the race as historians, and survive chiefly as
stylists. The new method that arose was typified in the solid and
valuable work of =William Stubbs (1825–1901)=, =Edward A. Freeman
(1823–92)=, and =Samuel R. Gardiner (1829–1902)=. These historians
avoided the charms of literary style, concentrated upon some aspect of
history, and, basing their results upon patient research into original
authorities, produced valuable additions to human knowledge.

(_f_) We have already noticed that in this period the _scientific
treatise_ attained to literary rank. We may mention as early examples
of this type Sir Thomas Browne’s curious treatise on _Urne Buriall_,
Burton’s _Anatomy of Melancholy_, and the graceful essays of Berkeley.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE

With such an amount of writing as characterizes this age it is quite
certain that both in prose and poetry a wide range of style will be
observable.

=1. Poetry.= In the case of poetry the more ornate style was
represented in Tennyson, who developed artistic schemes of vowel-music,
alliteration, and other devices in a manner quite unprecedented. The
Pre-Raphaelites carried the method still further. In diction they were
simpler than Tennyson, but their vocabulary was more archaic and their
mass of detail more highly colored. The style of Browning was to a
certain extent a protest against this aureate diction. He substituted
for it simplicity and a heady speed, especially in his earlier
lyrics; his more mature obscurity was merely an effect of his eager
imagination and reckless impetuosity. Matthew Arnold, in addition, was
too classical in style to care for over-developed picturesqueness, and
wrote with a studied simplicity. On the whole, however, we can say
that the average poetical style of this period, as a natural reaction
against the simpler methods of the period immediately preceding, was
ornate rather than simple.

=2. Prose.= With regard to prose, the greater proportion by far is
written in the middle style, the established medium in journalism, in
all manner of miscellaneous work, and in the majority of the novels.
Outside this mass of middle prose, the style of Ruskin stands highest
in the scale of ornateness; of a like kind are the scholarly elegance
of Pater and the mannered dictions of Meredith and Stevenson. The style
of Carlyle and that of Macaulay are each a peculiar brand of the middle
style, Macaulay’s being hard, clear, and racy, and Carlyle’s gruff and
tempestuous, with an occasional passage of soothing beauty.

Of the simpler writers there is a large number, among whom many
novelists find a place. We have space here to refer only to the
easygoing journalistic manner of Dickens and to the sub-acid flavor of
the prose of Thackeray.

We add a specimen of Stevenson’s prose style. This style, which
in its mannered precision is typical of many modern prose styles,
is noteworthy on account of its careful selection of epithet, its
clear-cut expressiveness, and its delicate rhythm.

But Hermiston was not all of one piece. He was, besides, a
mighty toper; he could sit at wine until the day dawned, and
pass directly from the table to the Bench with a steady hand and
a clear head. Beyond the third bottle, he showed the plebeian
in a larger print; the low, gross accent, the low, foul mirth,
grew broader and commoner; he became less formidable, and
infinitely more disgusting. Now, the boy had inherited from
Jean Rutherford a shivering delicacy, unequally mated with
potential violence. In the playing-fields, and amongst his
own companions, he repaid a coarse expression with a blow; at
his father’s table (when the time came for him to join these
revels) he turned pale and sickened in silence. Of all the
guests whom he there encountered, he had toleration for only
one: David Keith Carnegie, Lord Glenalmond. Lord Glenalmond was
tall and emaciated, with long features and long delicate hands.
He was often compared with the statue of Forbes of Culloden in
the Parliament House; and his blue eye, at more than sixty,
preserved some of the fire of youth. His exquisite disparity
with any of his fellow-guests, his appearance, as of an artist
and an aristocrat stranded in rude company, rivetted the boy’s
attention; and as curiosity and interest are the things in the
world that are the most immediately and certainly rewarded, Lord
Glenalmond was attracted to the boy.
_Weir of Hermiston_

TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

EXERCISES

1. The following are brief extracts from dramatic monologues by
Tennyson, Browning, and William Morris. Compare them with regard to
subject, point of view, and style. How far does each reflect the
character of the author?

(1) There lies the port: the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil’d, and wrought, and thought with me--
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads--you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
’Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
TENNYSON, _Ulysses_

(2) First, every sort of monk, the black and white,
I drew them, fat and lean: then, folk at church,
From good old gossips waiting to confess
Their cribs of barrel-droppings, candle-ends,--
To the breathless fellow at the altar-foot,
Fresh from his murder, safe and sitting there
With the little children round him in a row
Of admiration, half for his beard, and half
For that white anger of his victim’s son
Shaking a fist at him with one fierce arm,
Signing himself with the other because of Christ
(Whose sad face on the cross sees only this
After the passion of a thousand years).
BROWNING, _Fra Lippo Lippi_

(_Guenevere speaking._)

(3) And every morn I scarce could pray at all,
For Launcelot’s red-golden hair would play,
Instead of sunlight, on the painted wall,
Mingled with dreams of what the priest would say;

Grim curses out of Peter and of Paul;
Judging of strange sins in Leviticus;
Another sort of writing on the wall,
Scored deep across the painted heads of us.

Christ sitting with the woman at the well,
And Mary Magdalen repenting there,
Her dimmed eyes scorched and red at sight of hell
So hardly ’scaped, no gold light on her hair.
MORRIS, _King Arthur’s Tomb_

2. In the following extracts point out the features of subject and
style that are characteristic of their respective authors. In each case
say how far the style suits the subject.

(1) Day has bent downwards. Wearied mortals are creeping home
from their field labour; the village artisan eats with relish
his supper of herbs, or has strolled forth to the village
street for a sweet mouthful of air and human news. Still
summer-eventide everywhere! The great sun hangs flaming on the
utmost Northwest; for it is his longest day this year. The
hill-tops rejoicing will erelong be at their ruddiest, and blush
Good-night. The thrush, in green dells, on long-shadowed leafy
spray, pours gushing his glad serenade, to the babble of brooks
grown audibler; silence is stealing over the Earth.
CARLYLE, _The French Revolution_

(2) Monmouth was startled by finding that a broad and profound
trench lay between him and the camp which he had hoped to
surprise. The insurgents halted on the edge of the rhine and
fired. Part of the royal infantry on the opposite bank returned
the fire. During three-quarters of an hour the roar of the
musketry was incessant. The Somersetshire peasants behaved
themselves as if they had been veteran soldiers, save only that
they levelled their pieces too high.
MACAULAY, _The History of England_

(3) We may not measure to the full the depth of this heavenly
gift, in our own land; though still, as we think of it longer,
the infinite of that meadow sweetness, Shakespeare’s peculiar
joy, would open on us more and more, yet we have it but in
part. Go out, in the spring time, among the meadows that slope
from the shores of the Swiss lakes to the roots of their lower
mountains. There, mingled with the taller gentians and the white
narcissus, the grass grows deep and free; and as you follow
the winding mountain paths, beneath arching boughs all veiled
and dim with blossom--paths that for ever droop and rise over
the green banks and mounds sweeping down in scented undulation,
steep to the blue water, studded here and there with new-mown
heaps, filling all the air with fainter sweetness--look up
towards the higher hills, where the waves of everlasting green
roll silently into their long inlets among the shadows of the
pines; and we may, perhaps, at last know the meaning of those
quiet words of the 147th Psalm, “He maketh grass to grow up on
the mountains.”
RUSKIN, _Modern Painters_

(4) Rats!
They fought the dogs and killed the cats,
And bit the babies in the cradles,
And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
And licked the soup from the cooks’ own ladles,
Split open the kegs of salted sprats,
Made nests inside men’s Sunday hats,
And even spoiled the women’s chats,
By drowning their speaking
With shrieking and squeaking
In fifty different sharps and flats.
BROWNING, _The Pied Piper of Hamelin_

3. The two extracts given below are typical of the Pre-Raphaelite
school. Point out the features in style and subject common to both.
Write a brief appreciation of this style of poetry.

(1) The banners seemed quite full of ease,
That over the turret roofs hung down;
The battlements could get no frown
From the flower-moulded cornices.

Who walked in that garden there?
Miles and Giles and Isabeau,
Tall Jehane du Castel Beau,
Alice of the golden hair,

Big Sir Gervaise, the good knight,
Fair Ellayne le Violet,
Mary, Constance fille de fay,
Many dames with footfall light.
MORRIS, _Golden Wings_

(2) “We two,” she said, “will seek the groves
Where the lady Mary is,
With her five handmaidens, whose names
Are five sweet symphonies,
Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,
Margaret and Rosalys.

“Circlewise sit they, with bounds locks
And foreheads garlanded;
Into the fine cloth white like flame
Weaving the golden thread,
To fashion the birth-robes for them
Who are just born, being dead.

“He shall fear, haply, and be dumb:
Then will I lay my cheek
To his, and tell about our love,
Not once abashed or weak:
And the dear Mother will approve
My pride, and let me speak.

“Herself shall bring us, hand in hand,
To Him round whom all souls
Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads
Bowed with their aureoles:
And angels meeting us shall sing
To their citherns and citoles.”
D. G. ROSSETTI, _The Blessed Damozel_

4. From a consideration of the specimens given below, and of other
examples that occur to you, write a brief essay on the Victorian lyric.

(1) Say not the struggle naught availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly!
But westward, look, the land is bright!
CLOUGH

(2) Oh, to be in England
Now that April’s there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England--now!
And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops--at the bent spray’s edge--
That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children’s dower
--Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!
R. BROWNING

(3) Strew on her roses, roses,
And never a spray of yew!
In quiet she reposes;
Ah, would that I did too!

Her mirth the world required;
She bathed it in smiles of glee.
But her heart was tired, tired,
And now they let her be.
MATTHEW ARNOLD

5. Compare the novels of Charlotte Brontë and George Eliot, the chief
women novelists of the middle of the nineteenth century.

6. Trace the development of the historical novel from the death of
Scott to the death of Stevenson.

7. Write a brief account of the drama of this period.

8. Who are the principal prose stylists of the period? Write a note on
the style of each, quoting whenever you can.

9. “The characteristic of the novel, as it was reconstituted towards
the middle of the century, was the preference for strictly ordinary
life.” (Saintsbury.) Examine this statement.

10. “Prose style in our day is a complex matter.” (Craik.) Expand this
statement, pointing out the wide range of style necessary to meet
modern requirements.

11. “Men of genius may be divided into regular and irregular.” Bagehot,
who makes this remark, calls Dickens an irregular genius. Suggest some
of his reasons for doing so.

12. “Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning represent respectively the
pure, ornate, and grotesque in poetry.” (Bagehot.) What justification
is there for such a statement?

13. “Tennyson’s poetry undoubtedly represents the ideas and tastes,
the inherited predilections, the prevailing currents of thought, of
Englishmen belonging to his class and generation.” (Sir A. Lyall.)
Write a brief essay on this statement.

14. “Thackeray’s manner was mainly realistic.” (Trollope.) How far was
Thackeray a realist? How far did he describe persons and actions as
they really were? Quote examples from his novels. Compare him in this
respect with Dickens.

15. “The novel has supplanted the sermon, the essay, and the play in
the place which each at different times held as the _popular_ form
of literature.” (Saintsbury.) Expand and comment upon this quotation.

16. In what respects did the spread of popular education affect the
literary production of the period?

CHAPTER XII

THE POST-VICTORIAN AGE

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND (1890–1920)

The period covered by this chapter, thirty years in extent, begins
with the decline of the Victorian tradition, and practically ends with
the European War. It is a time of unrest, of a hardening of temper, of
the decay of the larger Victorian ideals, and of the growth of a more
critical, cynical, and analytic spirit. The period, one will find, is
not very rich in literature of the highest class; and looking back over
our literature, and studying the rise and fall of the literary impulse,
the alternation of rich harvest with lean years, one is tempted to
regard the post-Victorian age as an interval between two epochs,
between the great Victorian age and another, still to be, that will be
as truly great.

LITERARY FEATURES OF THE AGE

=1. Decline of Poetry.= For almost the first time in the history
of English literature the poetical product must be relegated to a
subordinate position. Much verse, some of great charm and considerable
power, has been written, but very little of real outstanding literary
importance. It is this decided decline in the poetical spirit that must
make the period take an inferior place in our literary history. Even
the Great War failed to produce a poet who might proclaim its ideals
as Wordsworth did those of the French Revolution. One is reluctantly
driven to conclude that the divine poetical impulse was not there.

=2. The Domination of the Novel.= Comparatively late in its
appearance, the novel has now become the most prominent of the
literary forms. The output is enormous, the general level quite
high, and the scope of its subject almost all-embracing. The growth
of the popular press, including the cheap magazine specializing in
the production of fiction, the cheapening of books and journals, the
increasing use of shorthand and the typewriter, all combine to add to
the torrent of fiction.

=3. Modern “Realism.”= The tendency of the time is to avoid
sentiment, and to look upon life critically and even cynically. There
is a supercilious attitude toward enthusiasm, which is banned as
being “Victorian,” a word which has assumed a derogatory meaning.
In the domain of fiction this feeling is the strongest. Victorian
convention is anathema; all subjects are explored, and handled with
a frankness that would have horrified the moralists of the earlier
age. A particularly strong school of novelists is interested in social
subjects, and is affected with the prevailing economic unrest.

=4. Foreign Influences.= In other countries the same tendency
toward realism is apparent, and has helped the movement in England.
In Europe there were two geniuses of international importance, and
both of them were fired with revolutionary social ideals: Henrik Ibsen
(1828–1906), the Norse dramatist, and Leo Tolstoï (1828–1910), the
Russian novelist. The influence of Ibsen went right to the roots of
English drama, and the works of Tolstoï awoke English readers to the
importance of Russian fiction, which is strongly realistic. French
novelists of the realistic school, such as Émile Zola (1840–1902), had
their share in the development of the English novel.

=5. The Celtic Revival.= The revival of Irish literature is of
much interest. It began in the effort of a group of writers to preserve
and reanimate Irish sentiment and (to a certain extent) the Irish
language. It has affected all branches of literature: it has affected
poetry, producing poems such as those of Mr. Yeats; it has created
a type of drama, and a theater in which to act it; its dramatists
include Mr. Synge, Lady Gregory, and (partly) Mr. Shaw; it has added a
novelist of importance in George Moore; and it has a worthy example of
a man of letters in George Russell, whose _nom de plume_ is “A. E.”

THOMAS HARDY

We shall deal with three outstanding novelists, each of whom is
representative of a different class. We shall have space sufficient for
a small number only of the other novelists.

=1. His Life.= Thomas Hardy was born (1840) in Dorsetshire, and
after being educated locally finished his studies at King’s College,
London. He adopted the profession of an architect, being specially
interested in the architecture of early churches. Ambitious to achieve
fame as an author, he began, as so many other literary aspirants have
done, with poetry. In this branch of literature he met with scant
recognition; so, when he was over thirty years old, he took to the
writing of novels. These too had no popular success, though they did
not go unpraised by discerning critics. Nevertheless, Hardy continued
uninterruptedly to issue works of fiction, which gradually but surely
brought him fame. He was enabled to abandon his profession as an
architect and retire to his native Dorchester, where he lived the life
of a literary recluse. Popular applause, which he had never courted, in
the end came in full measure. On the occasion of his eightieth birthday
the greatest literary figures of the day united to do him homage, and
the King, with characteristic felicity, sent a message of gracious
compliment. Some years previously (1910) he had received the Order of
Merit, no inappropriate distinction.

=2. His Poetry.= As early as 1865, and thence onward, Mr. Hardy
issued fugitive pieces of poetry, which were at length collected
and published as _Wessex Poems_ (1898). Many of the poems,
none of which is very long, are of the dramatic monologue type. The
typical Hardy note is apparent in nearly all of them; a careful and
measured utterance, a stern eye for the tragedy of common things,
and a somber submission to the dictates of an unkind fate. One or two
of them are brighter, with a wry kind of humor, like the well-known
_Valenciennes_. A second collection, _Poems of the Past and
Present_ (1901), has a deeper and more sardonic note, but the
feeling of pitiful regret is still predominant. This is particularly so
in the poems on the South African War. _The Dead Drummer_, a poem
of this group, three brief stanzas in length, tells of Drummer Hodge
slain and buried in the veld. The Hardy attitude is almost perfectly
revealed in the last stanza:

Yet portion of that unknown plain
Will Hodge for ever be;
His homely northern breast and brain
Grow up a southern tree;
And strange-eyed constellations reign
His stars eternally.

In _The Dynasts_, which was published in several parts between
1903 and 1908, we meet with Mr. Hardy’s most ambitious poetical effort.
In scope the poem is vast, for it deals with the Napoleonic wars, with
all Europe for its scene. In length it is prodigious, and before the
reader has reached the end he is overwhelmed with the magnitude of
it. In form it is dramatic, in the sense that Shelley’s _Prometheus
Unbound_ is dramatic; the scene shifts from point to point, the
historical figures utter long monologues, and superhuman intelligences,
such as Pity and the Spirit of the Years, add commentaries upon the
activities of mankind. Above and behind all of it broods a sense of
stern fatalism--the Immanent Will, as the author calls it; and in
front of this enormous curtain of fate and futility even the figure of
Napoleon is dwarfed and impotent.

_Satires of Circumstance_ (1914) is another collection of shorter
pieces. The satires themselves, which occupy quite a small portion of
the book, are almost brutal and rancorous in their choice and treatment
of unhappy incidents. No doubt their author judges such a tone to be
necessary in the production of satire. The effect is very impressive.
For example, in the short piece called _In the Cemetery_ he begins:

“You see those mothers squabbling there?”
Remarks the man of the cemetery.
“One says in tears, ‘_’Tis mine lies here!_’
Another, ‘_Nay, mine, you Pharisee!_’
Another, ‘_How dare you move my flowers
And put your own on this grave of ours!_’
But all their children were laid therein
At different times, like sprats in a tin.”

And the cemetery man goes on to say that all the bodies had been
removed to make room for a drain-pipe, and that the quarreling was
taking place over the drain-pipe.

A further group of poems in this same volume is called _Poems of
1912–1913_. In this group of poems, which are elegiac in nature,
Mr. Hardy’s lyrical genius develops a late but splendid bloom. It is
unique in our history for a poet over seventy years old to surpass all
the efforts of his prime. In the depth of their emotion and the terse
adequacy of their style they represent the consummation of his poetry.
We quote briefly:

(1) I found her out there
On a slope few see,
That falls westwardly
To the sharp-edged air,
Where the ocean breaks
On the purple strand,
And the hurricane shakes
The solid land.

(2) Nobody says: Ah, that is the place
Where chanced, in the hollow of years ago,
What none of the Three Towns cared to know--
The birth of a little girl of grace--
The sweetest the house saw, first or last;
Yet it was so
On that day long past.

Nobody thinks: There, there she lay
In a room by the Hoe, like the bud of a flower,
And listened, just after the bed time hour,
To the stammering chimes that used to play
The quaint Old Hundred-and-Thirteenth tune
In Saint Andrew’s tower
Night, morn, and noon.

* * * * *

Nay: one there is to whom these things,
That nobody else’s mind calls back,
Have a savour that scenes in being lack,
And a presence more than the actual brings;
To whom to-day is beneaped and stale,
And its urgent clack
But a vapid tale.
_Places_

=3. His Novels.= Mr. Hardy’s first novel, _Desperate Remedies_
(1871), is, even as a first attempt, a little disappointing. _Under
the Greenwood Tree_ (1872) is an improvement, and in its sweet and
faithful rendering of country life suggests _Silas Marner_. Next
appeared _A Pair of Blue Eyes_ (1873), much more powerful, in which
coincidences combine to produce a pitifully tragic conclusion. This
is a fine specimen of the Hardy “pessimism.” By this time Mr. Hardy
had matured his style and developed his views, and the succeeding
novels display a masterly power that rarely deserts him: _Far from the
Madding Crowd_ (1874), _The Hand of Ethelberta_ (1876), _The Return of
the Native_ (1878), _The Trumpet-Major_ (1879), _A Laodicean_ (1881),
_Two on a Tower_ (1882), _The Mayor of Casterbridge_ (1885), and _The
Woodlanders_ (1887). Then Mr. Hardy’s career as a novelist culminated
in two novels which have already taken rank among the great books
of the language: _Tess of the d’Urbervilles_ (1891) and _Jude the
Obscure_ (1894). The first is the story of a woman (“a pure woman,” the
novelist calls her), of a noble line long decayed, who, as the victim
of a malign and persistent destiny, commits murder and perishes on
the scaffold; the second is the life-history of an obscure craftsman,
fired by the noblest ideals, who struggles to attain to better things,
but dies broken and disappointed, like Job cursing the day he was
born: drab and somber tales, lit by rare gleams of delicious humor and
sentiment, and lifted to the level of great art by boundless insight
and pity. After this _The Well Beloved_ (1897) was of the nature of an
anti-climax, and Mr. Hardy wrote no more novels.

=4. Features of his Novels.= (_a_) _Their Literary Quality._ Of the
novelists of his time Mr. Hardy is the most assiduous in his attention
to the practices of his great literary predecessors, such as Sophocles,
Shakespeare, and Shelley. This, perhaps, gives his novels rather a
heavy touch, so that he will never find a facile popularity; but he is
never cheap and never tawdry, he builds broad and square, and his work
will surely endure.

(_b_) _Their English Quality._ Like Chaucer and Shakespeare, Mr.
Hardy, though he includes all humanity in his outlook, is profoundly
and essentially English. His works embrace English folk and strike
their roots deep into English soil. His most successful creations are
those of peasants bred in his own native shire, or in the adjacent
shires. Hence he has given us a notable gallery of men and women who
are true to their breed and satisfying in their actuality. The scene
of the majority of his novels is a section of England that he calls
Wessex. This includes approximately all the south and west of England
south of a line joining Oxford and Bristol. Within this boundary he
moves with ease and precision, and there he finds adequate literary
sustenance. From a man of the caliber of Mr. Hardy such parochialism
hardly requires an apology, but if it does he has given it fully. We
quote a passage in which he defends his practice, and which in addition
provides a good specimen of his expository prose:

It has sometimes been conceived of novels that evolve their
action on a circumscribed scene--as do many (though not all) of
these--that they cannot be so inclusive in their exhibition of
human nature as novels wherein the scenes cover large extents
of country, in which events figure amid towns and cities,
even wander over the four quarters of the globe. I am not
concerned to argue this point further than to suggest that
the conception is an untrue one in respect of the elementary
passions. But I would state that the geographical limits of the
stage here trodden were not absolutely forced upon the writer
by circumstances; he forced them upon himself from judgment.
I considered that our magnificent heritage from the Greeks in
dramatic literature found sufficient room for a large proportion
of its action in an extent of their country not much larger
than the half-dozen counties here reunited under the old name
of Wessex, that the domestic emotions have throbbed in Wessex
nooks with as much intensity as in the palaces of Europe, and
that, anyhow, there was quite enough human nature in Wessex for
one man’s literary purpose. So far was I possessed by this idea
that I kept within the frontiers when it would have been easier
to overleap them and give more cosmopolitan features to the
narrative.
_General Preface to the Wessex Edition_

(_c_) _Their Pessimism._ It cannot be denied that the novels are
somewhat oppressive in the gloom of their atmosphere. As a novelist
Mr. Hardy seems to conceive mankind as overlooked by a deliberately
freakish and malignant Fate. His characters are consistently
unfortunate when they deserve it least. In places, as in the case of
Tess, he appears to bear down the scales, throwing against them the
weight of repeated unhappy coincidences. Such a dismal method would
in the end be repulsive to the reader’s sense of pity and justice if
Mr. Hardy did not add to it a certain largeness and detachment of view
and a somber but sympathetic clarity of vision that make the reader’s
objections seem paltry and spiritless.

(_d_) _Their Humor and Pathos._ In many places, as in the rustic
scenes of _The Mayor of Casterbridge_, the novels have a delicacy and
acuteness of humor that strongly resembles that of George Eliot. At
other times the humor is hard and heavy, as it is in his satires; at
others, again, it has an odd grotesqueness. A short poetical extract
will illustrate the last type:

That night your great guns, unawares,
Shook all our coffins as we lay,
And broke the chancel window-squares.
We thought it was the Judgment-day
And sat upright. While drearisome
Arose the howl of wakened hounds:
The mouse let fall the altar-crumb,
The worms drew back into the mounds.
_Channel Firing_

His pathos is deep, sure, and strong, never degenerating into
mawkishness or sentimentality. The conclusion of _Tess of the
d’Urbervilles_ is a pattern of the dignified expression of sorrow:

Upon the cornice of the tower a tall staff was fixed. Their eyes
were riveted on it. A few minutes after the hour had struck
something moved slowly up the staff, and extended itself upon
the breeze. It was a black flag.

“Justice” was done, and the President of the Immortals,
in Æschylean phrase, had ended his sport with Tess. And
the d’Urberville knights and dames slept on in their tombs
unknowing. The two speechless gazers bent themselves down to
the earth, as if in prayer, and remained thus a long time,
absolutely motionless: the flag continued to wave silently. As
soon as they had strength they arose, joined hands again, and
went on.

(_e_) _His Style._ Like many other great novelists, Mr. Hardy has no
outstanding tricks of style. The general impression given is one of
immense strength and dignity. His vocabulary is copious, but handled
with scholarly care and accuracy. He is apt in phrase and pithy in
expression, and in moments of emotion his prose moves with a strong
rhythmic beauty. In his poetry the style may sometimes be crabbed and
unorthodox, but only to suit a definite satiric purpose. We may sum up
by saying that in his style, as in all the other constituents of his
writing, he is always the sane and catholic artist.

JOSEPH CONRAD (1857–1924)

=1. His Life.= “Joseph Conrad” is the pen-name of =Teodor Jozef
Konrad Korzeniowski=, who was born in the south of Poland in 1857.
His father was implicated in the Nationalist plots of the Poles, and
the son shared some of his father’s wanderings and exile. For a time
the boy was educated at Cracow, but very soon an obstinate love of
the sea manifested itself; and in 1874, in spite of all obstacles,
he shipped as a seaman at Marseilles. His earliest seafaring was
done in the Mediterranean. In 1878 he satisfied a lifelong desire by
visiting England and making his first practical acquaintance with the
English language. He had long wished to sail under the English flag,
and for the remainder of his career he continued to do so. Till 1894
he led the life of a deep-sea sailor, rising from the position of an
ordinary seaman to that of a master-mariner in the Mercantile Marine.
Bad health, partly occasioned by a voyage up the Congo, stopped his
seafaring; and then his first novel was accepted by a London publisher.
Henceforth he was able to devote himself to writing novels, for his
books, after a moderate beginning, have brought him a rapidly widening
circle of readers.

=2. His Novels.= Mr. Conrad’s first novel, _Almayer’s Folly_, was begun
about 1889 and not finished till 1894, when it was published. In some
respects the novel is immature, for it is halting in plot, and there
is a tendency to fumble in the handling of some of the characters; but
the power and originality of the work are unquestionable. The scene
is that of an Eastern river, fatally beautiful, haunted with disease,
death, and the destinies of mysterious men. The principal characters
are wild and diabolical, of strange race and stranger desires. Over the
whole of the book hangs the glamour of a style quite new to English
prose: rich and exotic as a tropical blossom, subtly pervasive and
powerful, languorous and debilitating, but most fascinating. The
book is typical of the remainder of Mr. Conrad’s novels; he was to
improve upon it; but only in degree, not in substance. We have space
to mention only the more important of his later works: _An Outcast of
the Islands_ (1896), a kind of sequel to the first book; _The Nigger
of the Narcissus_ (1898), a brighter tale, full of the glory of the
deep seas; _Lord Jim_ (1900), an astonishing story, detailed with
microscopic care, of a broken sailor who “makes good”; _Youth_ (1902),
perhaps Mr. Conrad’s masterpiece--briefer, more direct, and instinct
with the beauty of romantic youth; _Nostromo_ (1903), a tale of South
American politics and treasure-hunting; _The Secret Agent_ (1907), in
which the novelist leaves his favorite Eastern scenes for the grimmer
purlieus of London; _’Twixt Land and Sea_ (1912), three short stories,
containing some of his best work; _Chance_ (1914); _Within the Tides_
(1915); _Victory_ (1915); _The Shadow Line_ (1917); _The Arrow of Gold_
(1919), in which the interest shifts to Spain and the Carlist plotters;
and _The Rescue_ (1920). In addition there are several other volumes
of short stories; two volumes of memories and impressions, extremely
valuable as specimens of the Conrad manner, called _The Mirror of the
Sea_ (1906) and _Some Reminiscences_ (1912); and two volumes written
in collaboration with Ford Madox Hueffer, _The Inheritors_ (1901) and
_Romance_ (1903).

=3. Features of his Novels.= (_a_) _Their Exotic Quality._ Just as Mr.
Hardy is probably the most English of the greater novelists, so Mr.
Conrad is, in no disparaging sense of the term, the most un-English.
No other novelist can so well convey the charm and repulsiveness of
alien regions. The impression is borne upon the reader through every
constituent of the novels. The setting, in the best examples, is among
tropical islands, or upon the deep seas. The characters are men and
women thoroughly in tune with the scene: nautical people, generally
of mixed or alien breed--Danish, Malay, or Italian. Even when Mr.
Conrad introduces English scenes and people in some fashion they always
succeed in conveying the impression of being un-English.

(_b_) The _style_ of the books, moreover, adds to the prevailing
feeling. It is haunting and beautiful, sumptuous in detail, delicate in
rhythm, but curiously and decidedly exotic.

A brief extract cannot do justice to the style of Mr. Conrad, but we
shall quote two passages in illustration. The first shows his prose in
its less happy mood: somewhat mechanical and cumbrous in its imagery,
and forced and overloaded with epithet. The second is much better.
Here every word is necessary and appropriate, the rhythm is free, and
the music sweet and persuasive.

(1) Shaw tried to speak. He swallowed great mouthfuls of tepid
water which the wind drove down his throat. The brig seemed
to sail through undulating waves that passed swishing between
the masts and swept over the decks with the fierce rush and
noise of a cataract. From every spar and every rope a ragged
sheet of water streamed flicking to leeward. The overpowering
deluge seemed to last for an age; became unbearable--and, all
at once, stopped. In a couple of minutes the shower had run its
length over the brig and now could be seen like a straight grey
wall, going away into the night under the fierce whispering
of dissolving clouds. The wind eased. To the northward, low
down in the darkness, three stars appeared in a row, leaping
in and out between the crests of the waves like the distant
heads of swimmers in a running surf; and the retreating edge of
the cloud, perfectly straight from east to west, slipped along
the dome of the sky like an immense hemispheric iron shutter
pivoting down smoothly as if operated by some mighty engine. An
inspiring and penetrating freshness flowed together with the
shimmer of light through the augmented glory of the heaven, a
glory exalted, undimmed, and strangely startling as if a new
universe had been created during the short flight of the stormy
cloud. It was a return to life, a return to space; the earth
coming out from under a pall to take its place in the renewed
and immense scintillation of the universe.

The brig, her yards slightly checked in, ran with an easy motion
under the topsails, jib, and driver, pushing contemptuously
aside the turbulent crowd of noisy and agitated waves. As the
craft went swiftly ahead she unrolled behind her over the uneasy
darkness of the sea a broad ribbon of seething foam shot with
wispy gleams of dark discs escaping from under the rudder.
Far away astern, at the end of a line no thicker than a black
thread, which dipped now and then in its long curve in the
bursting froth, a toy-like object could be made out, elongated
and dark, racing after the brig over the snowy whiteness of her
wake.
_The Rescue_

(2) The _Narcissus_, left alone, heading south, seemed to stand
resplendent and still upon the restless sea, under the moving
sun. Flakes of foam swept past her sides; the water struck her
with flashing blows; the land glided away, slowly fading; a few
birds screamed on motionless wings over the swaying mastheads.
But soon the land disappeared, the birds went away; and to the
west the pointed sail of an Arab dhow running for Bombay rose
triangular and upright above the sharp edge of the horizon,
lingered, and vanished like an illusion. Then the ship’s wake,
long and straight, stretched itself out through a day of immense
solitude. The setting sun, burning on the level of the water,
flamed crimson below the blackness of heavy rainclouds. The
sunset squall, coming up from behind, dissolved itself into the
short deluge of a hissing shower. It left the ship glistening
from trucks to water-line, and with darkened sails. She ran
easily before a fair monsoon, with her decks cleared for the
night; and, moving along with her, was heard the sustained and
monotonous swishing of the waves, mingled with the low whispers
of men mustered aft for the setting of watches; the short plaint
of some block aloft; or, now and then, a loud sigh of wind.
_The Nigger of the Narcissus_

(_c_) _Their Graphic Power._ The strongest appeal of Mr. Conrad’s
novels is to the eye and the ear. His pictures of seafaring life and of
life connected with the sea have never been surpassed. Their veracity
and beauty are due to his personal acquaintance with the subject; to
a scrupulous and artistic selection of detail, often of the technical
kind that the sailor loves; and, once more, to the charm of the
expression. In addition, his faculty of graphic description is often
revealed in the deft manner in which he can outline some personality
that flits across the pages of a story:

He held up his head in the glare of the lamp--a head vigorously
modelled into deep shadows and shining lights--a head powerful
and misshapen with a tormented and flattened face--a face
pathetic and brutal: the tragic, the mysterious, the repulsive
mask of the nigger’s soul.
_The Nigger of the Narcissus_

(_d_) _Their Narrative Method._ Mr. Conrad has evolved a narrative
method of his own, which, while it is usually successful in his
own hands, would probably be disastrous in hands less careful and
adroit. The method is, first, indirect. The author’s favorite device
is to create some character (a Captain Marlow often appears for this
purpose) who relates the story, or part of the story, in his own
words. Often another story crops up in the original story, adding
complications, with, as can be seen in _Lord Jim_, results that are
a little bewildering. Secondly, the greatest attention is given to
details. The motives and impressions of the characters are discussed
and analyzed, and their trivial actions faithfully recorded. Moreover,
Mr. Conrad delights in leading his characters into morasses of doubt
and hesitation. He may be called the novelist of doubt and hesitation,
so skilled is he in the elaborate suggestion of such emotions.
Consequently many a Conrad story, like one of his ships, is becalmed
in its career, and stirs uneasily without making much progress. Hence
he who runs must not read Conrad. This author demands a reader who is
patient and wary, and who follows the course of the narrative very
carefully, for he has a troublesome habit of inserting important matter
in the midst of less essential details. If the reader will but observe
these cautions, he will be led, deviously perhaps, but none the less
certainly, into many regions of delightful romance.

HERBERT GEORGE WELLS

=1. His Life.= Mr. Wells was born in Kent in the year 1866. His
early education was private, and later he studied at London University.
Here he finally graduated in science, zoology and kindred subjects
being his special choice. But he had his living to earn while he
carried on his studies, and the experiences of these early years are
reflected in his novels. Teaching, lecturing, and journalistic work
followed; but literature was not long in exercising its fascination,
and an early measure of success was soon his portion. Henceforth he
devoted himself to the writing of books, which command a wide public
both in England and America.

=2. His Works.= For the literary historian the books of Mr. Wells
provide an interesting study, as, in the course of their production,
they register a clear development of manner. The books themselves are
so numerous that here we can mention only the more important among them.

As was only to be expected, Mr. Wells began by utilizing his scientific
training as an adjunct to his story-telling. His first efforts in
fiction were a series of scientific romances, extremely ingenious in
their mingling of fact and fiction, rapidly and felicitously narrated,
and casting shrewd side-glances at many social problems. The best of
this class were _The Time Machine_ (1895), _The Invisible Man_ (1897),
and _The Food of the Gods_ (1904). The second stage of the novelist’s
career (slightly overlapping the first stage) was represented by a
series of genuine novels, which reveal considerable talent in the
manipulating of plot, a faculty, amounting to positive genius, for
depicting ordinary people with zest, accuracy, and humor, and a clear
and flexible style admirably in keeping with his subject. _Love and
Mr. Lewisham_ (1900), _Kipps_ (1905), and _The History of Mr. Polly_
(1910) were representative of this group. In the third stage problems
of modern society, social, religious, political, and commercial, which
had all along strongly attracted the attention of Mr. Wells, elbowed
themselves into the midst of the fictitious material, claiming an
equal place. Of such a nature were _Tono-Bungay_ (1909), which is
almost an epical treatment of modern commercialism, _Ann Veronica_
(1909), concerning a modern love-affair, and _The New Machiavelli_
(1911), on contemporary politics. In the fourth stage the discursive
and dogmatic elements take the principal place, subordinating the
fictitious portions, as can be seen in _Boon_ (1915), an extraordinary
book, crammed with excellent lively literary criticism, but chaotic,
splenetic, and irresponsible; _Mr. Britling Sees It Through_ (1916), a
book treating of the Great War, with an able beginning, but a hazy and
unsatisfactory conclusion; and _Joan and Peter_ (1918), also dealing
partly with the War, but much concerned with educational matters.
A collection of short stories, _The Country of the Blind_ (1911),
contains, along with much that is scamped and trashy, some first-rate
work, notably in the tale that gives the title to the book.

In addition to his numerous works of fiction Mr. Wells has written
books that are almost entirely pamphlets, expressing his ideas on
social and other problems; _The Island of Doctor Moreau_ (1896), _A
Modern Utopia_ (1905), and _New Worlds for Old_ (1908) are only a
few out of many. He has also, with much hardihood and considerable
success, given the world _The Outline of History_ (1920), a work
that antagonized the pedants and charmed and instructed the ordinary
intelligent man.

=3. Features of his Novels.= (_a_) _Their “Modern” Quality._ Possessed
of an eager and inquiring mind, of great energy, and of a wide public
ready to give ear to his opinions, Mr. Wells has come more and more
to use the novel as a means of voicing his hopes, his criticisms, and
his fears. Such a course must in the end bring about the decay of his
novels as works of art. It is possible, indeed, that his later works
will rapidly fall into oblivion, as did the later novels of George
Eliot, who pursued a course in some respects similar to that of Mr.
Wells. No one, however, can question the force and vivacity of his
expressed opinions, and the eager reception that awaits them in many
quarters. To many of his time he is the sage and prophet, as Carlyle,
in his own fashion, was to the Victorian age; and as the need for
Carlyle passed away with the problems that he handled, so, perhaps,
will the need for the pen of Mr. Wells. It is possible that _Kipps_
will be widely read when such works as _The Soul of a Bishop_ have been
entirely forgotten.

(_b_) _Their Literary Quality._ In addition to his intellectual gifts,
Mr. Wells possesses an imagination of great power and grasp. This
appears all through his works, being perhaps most prominent in the
earlier romances, such as _The First Men in the Moon_, and in the
earlier novels. In the novels the strength of Mr. Wells’s imagination
becomes a positive drawback when it leads to overproduction, which in
its turn brings a certain mechanical quality in the plot and in the
central characters. His descriptions, however, alike of homely English
scenes and of the most fantastic and barbarous regions, are brilliantly
dashing and real. Like Dickens, he excels in the creation of ordinary
folks, of the type of tradesmen and clerks, upon whom he expends a
wealth of observation and humorous comment.

(_c_) _Their Humor._ Freshness and abundance are the outstanding
qualities of Mr. Wells’s humor. Sometimes he is almost juvenile in
his high spirits. In its more sober moments the humor is the urbane
acceptance of men’s little weaknesses, somewhat patronizing perhaps,
but sharply scrutinizing and faithfully recording. In other moods it is
satirical, and then it is swift and destructive. In its more reckless
phase it passes into jeering and irreverent laughter. The humor of Mr.
Wells is a powerful weapon, and he is somewhat careless in his handling
of it.

(_d_) _His Style._ The clearness and rapidity of Mr. Wells’s style has
undoubtedly led to a lack of taste and balance and (in the mind of the
reader) to a sense of improvisation. In its more careless passages
it conveys the impression of a brilliant but shallow loquacity. The
style, nevertheless, has some great and positive virtues: an instant
command of epithet, a vivid pictorial quality, and sometimes a rich
suggestiveness of romance. As an example of this last quality, the
love-passages in _The Country of the Blind_ are idyllically beautiful.

The two brief extracts that follow illustrate two different aspects
of his style. The first is a picture of a tropical scene, the style
resembling in some respects that of Mr. Conrad. It lacks the intimate
detail of Mr. Conrad’s descriptions, but it is much less labored. The
second is an example of the pictorial narrative power that is Mr.
Wells’s chief claim to literary greatness:

(1) Here and there strange blossoms woke the dank intensities
of green with a trumpet-call of colour. Things crept among the
jungle and peeped and dashed back rustling into stillness.
Always in the sluggishly drifting, opaque water were eddyings
and stirrings; little rushes of bubbles came chuckling up
lightheartedly from this or that submerged conflict and
tragedy; now and again were crocodiles like a stranded fleet of
logs basking in the sun. Still it was by day, a dreary stillness
broken only by insect sounds and the creaking and flapping of
our progress, by the calling of the soundings and the captain’s
confused shouts; but in the night as we lay moored to a clump
of trees the darkness brought a thousand swampy things to life,
and out of the forest came screamings and howlings, screamings
and yells that made us glad to be afloat. And once we saw
between the tree stems long blazing fires. We passed two or
three villages landward, and brown-black women and children came
and stared at us and gesticulated, and once a man came out in a
boat from a creek and hailed us in an unknown tongue; and so at
last we came to a great open place, a broad lake rimmed with a
desolation of mud and bleached refuse and dead trees, free from
crocodiles or water birds or sight or sound of any living thing,
and saw far off, even as Nasmyth had described, the ruins of
the deserted station and hard by two little heaps of buff-hued
rubbish under a great rib of rock. The forest receded. The land
to the right of us fell away and became barren, and far off
across a notch in its backbone was surf and the sea.
_Tono-Bungay_

(2) There was a fumbling at the latch of the front door.

“’Ere’s my lord,” said Mrs Coombes. “Went out like a lion and
comes back like a lamb, I’ll lay.”

Something fell over in the shop: a chair, it sounded like.
Then there was a sound as of some complicated step exercise in
the passage. Then the door opened and Coombes appeared. But
it was Coombes transfigured. The immaculate collar had been
torn carelessly from his throat. His carefully brushed silk
hat, half-full of a crush of fungi, was under one arm; his
coat was inside out, and his waistcoat adorned with bunches of
yellow-blossomed furze. These little eccentricities of Sunday
costume, however, were quite overshadowed by the change in his
face; it was livid white, his eyes were unnaturally large and
bright, and his pale blue lips were drawn back in a cheerless
grin. “Merry!” he said. He had stopped dancing to open the door.
“Rational ’njoyment. Dance.” He made three fantastic steps into
the room and stood bowing.

“Jim!” shrieked Mrs Coombes, and Mr Clarence sat petrified, with
a drooping lower jaw.

“Tea,” said Mr Coombes. “Jol’ thing, tea. Tose-stools, too.
Brosher.”

“He’s drunk,” said Jennie in a weak voice. Never before had she
seen this intense pallor in a drunken man, or such shining,
dilated eyes.
_The Purple Pileus_

OTHER NOVELISTS

=1. George Gissing (1857–1903)= was born at Wakefield, and concluded
his education at Owens College, Manchester. He took to literature, but
with little success, and for years lived in dire poverty. In time his
books met with a somewhat wider acceptance, though they were never
popular; and his scholarship and the high quality of his literary
criticism always commanded respect. He died in the Pyrenees, whither
failing health had compelled him to go.

His novels are almost entirely devoted to the lives of the poorer
classes: _Workers of the Dawn_ (1880), _The Unclassed_ (1884), _Demos_
(1889), _Grub Street_ (1891), and _The Odd Women_ (1893) are only a
selection from his books. His _Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft_ (1903)
is partly autobiographical, and is an excellent example of his style.
He handles his subjects with a depressing fidelity that will always
restrict his novels to a narrow circle of readers. He lacks Mr. Hardy’s
Elizabethan largeness of vision, and will not rank as a really great
writer, but he deserves honorable mention as a novelist who in poverty
and distress would not bow the knee to false gods, who steadily kept in
view the highest ideals, and who died true to his literary faith.

=2. George Moore=, born in Mayo in the year 1857, is the son of
a landowner in that county. He was educated at Oscott, and then for
some years studied art in Paris. During those years he imbibed that
passion for French art and French fiction that was never to leave him.
As an artist he had no success; but as a novelist, after a moderate
beginning, he has won the admiration of an important section of the
reading public. He is a man of varied but unstable enthusiasms, which
are reflected in his novels. In the course of time he was caught up in
the Celtic Revival, which he valiantly served with his pen, though he
was not backward in candid criticism of it.

Mr. Moore began authorship with two volumes of verse, the first of
which was _Flowers of Passion_ (1878). Neither of them was of any
great merit. He started his career as a novelist as disciple of the
great French realist Zola, publishing in this manner _A Mummer’s Wife_
(1884). This novel, a squalid tale unrelieved by any bright touches,
followed the example of Zola with much audacity, and shocked the more
staid opinion in England. Other stories of the same kind followed, the
more noteworthy being _A Drama in Muslin_ (1886) and _The Confessions
of a Young Man_ (1888). His more mature works, though they never lacked
frankness, were rather more restrained in manner; characteristic
specimens were _Esther Waters_ (1894) and _Sister Teresa_ (1901).
Subsequently he wrote some attractive books of reminiscence, of which
the best is _Hail and Farewell_, published in three volumes between the
years 1911 and 1914.

In his later books Mr. Moore’s style is delightfully sweet and clear.
The earlier books, in which he followed his model with a devoted
fidelity, are devoid of the ornaments of style. In humor he is often
whimsical and charming, though his wit seldom lacks the sharp touch of
satire.

=3. Rudyard Kipling= was born (1865) at Bombay, where his father was an
official. He was educated in Devonshire, and wished to join the Army,
a project that had to be abandoned. Returning to India, he joined the
editorial staff of the Lahore _Civil and Military Gazette_ and of _The
Pioneer_. For these journals he began writing short stories, which very
soon attracted an attention that became worldwide. After some years’
residence in the United States, Mr. Kipling settled in England. For a
time his popularity was immense, and received international recognition
in the award of the Nobel Prize for literature (1907). Passing years
have dimmed his brightness, and recently his voice has fallen nearly
silent.

Mr. Kipling first became known as a writer of short stories, and it is
upon the short story that his fame will probably rest. As the writer
of such a type of fiction he is very well equipped: he has a genius
for terse narrative, a swift eye for dramatic incident and detail, a
capacity for touching off men’s characters, and a style which, though
it may be cocksure and jerky, is none the less attractive and intensely
individual. _Plain Tales from the Hills_ (1887) and _Soldiers Three_
(1888) are among the most enjoyable of the volumes of short stories. In
his longer tales he is less at his ease. _The Light that Failed_ (1891)
is not a great success; but _Kim_ (1901), a kind of picaresque Indian
tale, is crammed with a rich abundance of observation and description.
The two _Jungle Books_ (1894 and 1895) are among the most delightful of
books written for children.

As a poet of Army life and of British Imperialism Mr. Kipling was
long a notable figure. The climax came during the South African War
of 1899–1902; after that the patriotic poem began to suffer eclipse.
A good deal of Mr. Kipling’s poetry is brazen and commonplace, but it
rarely lacks energy and picturesqueness. In such pieces as _Mandalay_,
however, he touches the deeper springs of humanity, and becomes a real
poet; and in _The Recessional_ (1897), a short poem that in essence
expresses the negation of all his usual teachings, he has attained to
poetical greatness.

=4. Arnold Bennett=, whose full name is Enoch Arnold Bennett, was born
in North Staffordshire in 1867. He was educated at Newcastle, and
studied for the law, which he later forsook for journalism (1893). He
was on the staff of _Woman_ till 1900, when his books claimed all his
time.

Mr. Bennett’s most notable contribution to the novel is a group of
interrelated stories dealing with his native Staffordshire. These
stories, very full in detail, are realistic presentations of the
squalid life of the pottery district; the personages introduced are
commonplace, and the style, though it does not lack vivacity and humor,
is studiously subdued. _Anna of the Five Towns_ (1902), _The Old Wives’
Tale_ (1908), _Clayhanger_ (1910), _Hilda Lessways_ (1911), and _These
Twain_ (1916) represent this group. _The Card_ (1911) is lighter and
more humorous; and _The Pretty Lady_ (1918), rather unequal, contains
some telling reflections upon modern society.

Like Mr. Hardy, Mr. Bennett has essayed to render with artistic
completeness the life of one section of England; unlike Mr. Hardy,
however, he tends to become swamped with detail, so that he fails to
give his works unity and singleness of purpose. In addition, his style
has a certain aridity and a lack of flavor and attraction. On the other
hand, he writes with clearness and care, his humor is reticent but
keenly penetrating, and his character-drawing able and realistic.

=5. Compton Mackenzie= may be taken as the latest type of novelist
who will claim our attention. Born at West Hartlepool in 1883, he was
the son of Mr. Edward Compton, the well-known actor. He was educated
at St. Paul’s School and at Oxford, and then became associated with
literature and the stage. He served in the South African War, and in
the Great War he was with the Naval Division in the Dardanelles.

After publishing _Poems_ (1907), Mr. Mackenzie produced _The Passionate
Elopement_ (1911), a novel of much promise, that was realized in
_Carnival_ (1912), a story dealing partly with theatrical life, and
revealing much shrewd insight and satirical humor. Like Thackeray and
Mr. Bennett, Mr. Mackenzie developed the novel series, introducing the
same people into several successive stories. _Sinister Street_ (1914),
_Guy and Pauline_ (1915), _Sylvia Scarlett_ (1918), and _Sylvia and
Michael_ (1919), are more or less closely interrelated in theme. _Poor
Relations_ (1919) revealed a rich and somewhat unexpected vein of light
comedy, which Mr. Mackenzie did not improve upon in _Rich Relatives_
(1921). Much of Mr. Mackenzie’s work is of unnecessary length, and
much of it, in comformity with the modern manner, is laboriously and
somewhat unpleasantly detailed in its revelation of personal and social
relations; but his writing is seldom lacking in competence; it has
ease, versatility, and a certain cool urbanity; and at its best it
reaches a high level.

GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

=1. His Life.= Mr. Shaw, born in Dublin in 1856, is the son of a
retired civil servant. His early education was received in Dublin, and
at the age of fifteen he was earning his living as a clerk. Coming to
London (1876), he tried novel-writing as an alternative to clerking,
but with no success at all. He was one of the first members (1884) of
the Fabian Society, and took a vigorous part in its socialistic work.
A witty and voluble speaker, not without moments of real eloquence, he
was much in demand as a lecturer. In 1885 he began his connection with
journalism, and was successively on the staff of several London papers,
writing on music, painting, and the drama. In music he was a strong
advocate of Wagner. The dramatic works of the great Norwegian Ibsen
were for long his pet subject. During the years 1895–98 his dramatic
articles in _The Saturday Review_ attracted much attention owing
to the freshness of their opinions and the vitality of their style.
About this time he started to write and produce plays of his own; and
with them he began his long verbal contest with the British public
over their failure to appreciate the merit of his work. In the end,
owing partly to his own voluble persistence, but chiefly to the virtues
inherent in his dramas, he won the day; so that a new play by Mr. Shaw,
if indeed it does not command a wide acceptance of its views, is at
least received as a powerful and stimulating addition to the dramatic
literature of our time.

=2. His Novels.= Mr. Shaw began his career as an author by
writing four novels which were rejected by every publisher in London,
and subsequently saw the light in obscure periodicals of socialistic
sympathies. The best of the four are _The Irrational Knot_ (1880)
and _Cashel Byron’s Profession_ (1882). He republished the books
in 1901, calling them “Novels of my Nonage.” To readers acquainted with
the later writings of Mr. Shaw there are several familiar features
plainly to be seen: the straight, clean thrust of the style, the
bold and dramatic portraiture of the characters, and the irreverent
mishandling of treasured institutions. There is even the note typical
of the earliest plays--a curious frigidity and barrenness of emotion,
as if the novelist had made a vow to cut sentiment clean out of his
books. The crude socialism preached in the stories probably scared the
publishers; for, though they by no means represent even the average of
Mr. Shaw’s work, they are always readable and often amusing.

=3. His Plays.= As a playwright Mr. Shaw began as a disciple of
Ibsen. In his early attempts he succeeded in reproducing the cold and
intellectual realism of the great Norwegian, but he quite failed to
catch the humane and intensely romantic idealism that lies deep within
the heart of the Ibsen plays. _Widowers’ Houses_ (1885), a didactic
play on the subject of slum-property, was a discouraging beginning to
his play-writing. It was hard and repulsive in sentiment; it lacked
the later Shavian high spirits and verbal acrobatics; and it appealed
only to a small circle of enthusiasts. _The Philanderer_ (1893) was
much lighter and more attractive, though it did not lack harsher
touches, almost callous in their nonchalance; it showed, however,
the beginning of that mastery of the technique of the stage that was
henceforth to distinguish nearly all Mr. Shaw’s plays. _Mrs. Warren’s
Profession_ (1893), grimmer and abler, was refused a license by the
censor of plays; and then with _Arms and the Man_ (1894) Mr. Shaw had
his first successful bout with the British public. In the play the
satiric intention was obvious, for the “glories” of war were freely
ridiculed; but the satire was so overlaid with a briskness of action,
with a rocketing interchange of witticisms, and with an almost reckless
display of high spirits that both the general public and the cautious
critics were taken by storm. From this point Mr. Shaw never looked
back, and his plays appeared in a steady procession. We can mention
only the more important of them: _Candida_ (1894), an attempt at the
romantic sentimental comedy, only too rare with Mr. Shaw; _You Never
Can Tell_ (1896), purely and hilariously comic, and masterly from
beginning to end; _Cæsar and Cleopatra_ (1898), quaintly serio-comic,
but picturesque and brilliant; _Man and Superman_ (1903), containing
many of its author’s opinions expressed with startling audacity, but
too long and voluble; _John Bull’s Other Island_ (1904), on the Irish
question; _The Doctor’s Dilemma_ (1906), very censorious on the medical
profession; and _Androcles and the Lion_ (1912). At this point the
War intervened, and the effects of it on Mr. Shaw’s acutely sensitive
mind, along with the pressure of increasing years, can be seen in the
style of the later plays. One can detect a certain waning strength.
The energy and gayety are still visible, but they appear fitfully; the
high scorn is apt to degenerate into querulousness; and there is a
hardening of temper, for which the dramatist tries to atone by fits of
puerile burlesque. _Heartbreak House_ (1917) is abrupt and even savage
in places; and _Back to Methuselah_ (1920), in spite of its infinity of
range and the brilliance of disconnected passages, is heavy with the
weight of mortality.

We have still to mention Mr. Shaw’s prefaces, which are remarkable
features of his plays. As the plays successively appeared, the prefaces
increased in length, till they began to rival in importance the
plays themselves. Each of them is a tractate on some question that
for the time engrossed the attention of the playwright. For example,
the preface to _Cæsar and Cleopatra_ deals in Shavian fashion with
Shakespeare, that to _Androcles and the Lion_ with early Christianity,
and that to _Back to Methuselah_ with what he calls Creative Evolution.
The prefaces are diffuse, paradoxical, and egotistical; but they are
brilliant and incisive, and they represent the best of Mr. Shaw’s
non-dramatic prose.

=4. Features of his Plays.= (_a_) _Their Wit._ The distinction between
wit and humor is commonly expressed by saying that humor appeals to
the emotions, whereas wit touches only the intellect: humor deals
with incidents and actions, wit with words and phrases. Mr. Shaw
ranks among the greatest wits in the language. He delights in the
quick cut and thrust of verbal sword-play, in the clever distortion
of a phrase, and in the brilliant paradoxical sally of the intellect.
It is this wittiness that has given him his commanding position in
foreign countries. It is not that Mr. Shaw is inhumanly devoid of
emotion and sympathy, but he is afraid of such emotions, and often
deliberately stifles them. In _Candida_ he attains to a high level of
delicate sentimentality, but in _How He lied to Her Husband_ he jeers
at the admirers of his own handiwork. In his later plays he wearies a
little over this exuberant play of wit. In _Back to Methuselah_, for
example, perhaps the most attractive feature is a mood of sere romantic
melancholy.

(_b_) _His Contribution to the Drama._ Mr. Shaw’s long experience as a
dramatic critic taught him at least what he was to avoid. When he began
his career as a dramatist the theater was given up to the production
of frivolous and even immoral pieces. Mr. Shaw vitalized this stuffy
atmosphere, gave to play-writing a strong and vigorous tone, and
added to it a spirit of broad comedy. From the purely formal point of
view, he employed all the devices of stagecraft to give his plays an
attractive and realistic setting. As regards the literary side of his
plays, he marks in his work a great increase in the importance given
to the stage-directions. Like Ibsen, he elaborates this feature of his
plays till on the printed page they are almost as important as the
dialogue. He is reverting to the precepts of Aristotle, who maintained
that the drama is an affair of _action_, not of speech. Consequently
Mr. Shaw’s plays often read like an interesting hybrid between the
novel and the drama. We add an extract to illustrate this combination
of speech and action:

_Behind the Emperor’s box at the Coliseum, where the
performers assemble before entering the arena. In the middle
a wide passage leading to the arena descends from the floor
level under the imperial box. On both sides of this passage
steps ascend to a landing at the back entrance to the box. The
landing forms a bridge across the passage. At the entrance to
the passage are two bronze mirrors, one on each side._

_On the west side of this passage, on the right hand of
anyone coming from the box and standing on the bridge, the
martyrs are sitting on the steps. Lavinia is seated half-way
up, thoughtfully trying to look death in the face. On her left
Androcles consoles himself by nursing a cat. Ferrovious stands
behind them, his eyes blazing, his figure stiff with intense
resolution. At the foot of the steps crouches Spintho, with his
head clutched in his hands, full of horror at the approach of
martyrdom._

_On the east side of the passage the gladiators are standing
and sitting at ease, waiting, like the Christians, for their
turn in the arena. One (Retiarius) is a nearly naked man with a
net and trident. Another (Secutor) is in armour with a sword.
He carries a helmet with a barred visor. The Editor of the
gladiators sits on a chair a little apart from them._

_The Call Boy enters from the passage._

_The Call Boy._ Number six. Retiarius _versus_ Secutor.

_The gladiator with the net picks it up. The gladiator with
the helmet puts it on; and the two go into the arena, the
net-thrower taking out a little brush and arranging his hair
as he goes, the other tightening his straps and shaking his
shoulders loose. Both look at themselves in the mirrors before
they enter the passage._

_Lavinia._ Will they really kill one another?

_Spintho._ Yes, if the people turn down their thumbs.

_The Editor._ You know nothing about it. The people indeed! Do you
suppose we would kill a man worth perhaps fifty talents to please the
riff-raff? I should like to catch any of my men at it.

_Spintho._ I thought----

_The Editor_ [_contemptuously_]. You thought! Who cares what
_you_ think? _You’ll_ be killed all right enough.

_Spintho_ [_groans and again hides his face_].!!!...

_Lavinia._ Does the Emperor ever interfere?

_The Editor._ Oh yes; he turns his thumb up fast enough if the
vestal virgins want to have one of his pet fighting men killed.
_Androcles and the Lion_

(_c_) _His Defects._ As a dramatist Mr. Shaw has many faults.
When he is anxious to expound one of his opinions he subordinates the
dramatic interest and permits his characters to become merely the
mouthpieces of his views. Jack Tanner, the chief character in _Man
and Superman_, is the stock example of such a personage. Nearly all
his characters, moreover, though they are galvanically active, hardly
impress the reader as being actually alive. Like Dickens, Mr. Shaw is
skillful in the creation of freaks and oddities, but he is weak in the
presentation of living and ordinary people.

(_d_) _His Opinions._ Like Mr. Wells, Mr. Shaw holds decided
views on many subjects, from phonetics to the construction of the
universe, and he is not backward in expressing them. More than once he
has declared that he would never have written a word if he had not some
message to convey. He has, however, a curious method of exposition,
which he has purposely developed in order to shock his opponents into
attention: a jesting, paradoxical mishandling of the truth, often
glaringly personal, and stated with almost brutal clearness. As a
result Mr. Shaw rarely finds himself taken seriously by the superficial
reader, though the deep underlying seriousness of his opinions is
nearly always perceptible to the attentive mind. It has often been
urged that his opinions are purely destructive; and his efforts to
provide alternatives to the institutions he condemns are not always of
the happiest.

(_e_) _His Style._ Like his great fellow-countryman Swift,
Mr. Shaw has a powerful and logical mind, with the same fierce satiric
purpose and (it may be added) the same type of Irish nationalism. His
prose is more amusing, less destructive, more diffuse, and less simple
than that of the great Dean. In his dramatic dialogue, however, Mr.
Shaw is pithy, direct, and absolutely clear. The example already given
shows its character.

We add a brief specimen of his expository prose. It is the peroration
to a long preface, and therefore somewhat more elevated in style
than the average. It contains a characteristic mock-serious personal
reference which sheds light on Mr. Shaw’s own opinion of his work.

I now find myself inspired to make a second legend of Creative
Evolution without distractions and embellishments. My sands
are running out; the exuberance of 1901 has aged into the
garrulity of 1920; and the war has been a stern intimation that
the matter is not one to be trifled with. I abandon the legend
of Don Juan with its erotic associations, and go back to the
legend of the Garden of Eden. I exploit the eternal interest of
the philosopher’s stone which enables men to live for ever. I
am not, I hope, under more illusion than is humanly inevitable
as to the crudity of this my beginning of a Bible for Creative
Evolution. I am doing the best I can at my age. My powers are
waning; but so much the better for those who found me unbearably
brilliant when I was in my prime. It is my hope that a hundred
apter and more elegant parables by younger hands will soon leave
mine as far behind as the religious pictures of the fifteenth
century left behind the first attempts of the early Christians
at inconography. In that hope I withdraw and ring up the curtain.
_Preface to “Back to Methuselah”_

OTHER DRAMATISTS

=1. Oscar O. W. Wilde (1856–1900)= was the son of a famous Irish
surgeon, and was educated at Dublin and Oxford. At Oxford he
distinguished himself both as a scholar and as an eccentric. In the
latter capacity he posed as an “æsthete” in opposition to the common
type of “athlete,” wearing fantastic garments, and behaving with an
extraordinary combination of folly, extravagance, and presumption.
On leaving the university he dabbled in literature in an amateurish
fashion, writing poems, novels, and plays, and contributing to
magazines and reviews. His opinions--he held that “morality” does not
exist in “art”--led to much heated discussion, and to many charges
being made against his moral character. Wilde instituted proceedings
for libel, which in turn brought to light many unpleasant facts against
him, and in the end landed him in jail (1895). On regaining his liberty
(1897) he lived a wandering life on the Continent, and died miserably
in Paris.

Wilde’s early poems and novels, an example of which latter is _The
Picture of Dorian Gray_ (1891), are sumptuous in detail, cynically
phrased, and richly ornamented in style;[237] but over them all
is a curious taint, a faint malodorous corruption, that repels
the healthy-minded reader. His plays, however, almost escape this
infection. In tone they are hard and cynical, and in the portrayal
of character they are exceedingly weak, but they are brilliant with
epigram and telling phrase, are ingeniously contrived, and have many
clever situations. They are the cleverest society comedies since the
days of Wilde’s great fellow-country-man Sheridan. The best of them are
_Lady Windermere’s Fan_ (1892) and _The Importance of Being Earnest_
(1895).

=2. John Galsworthy= (born in 1867) in drama takes the place occupied
in the novel by Gissing. In sincerity, in his close scrutiny of the
vexed problems of to-day, and in his deep sympathy for the poor and
wretched Mr. Galsworthy much resembles the earlier novelist. As a
playwright, however, he is too deeply engrossed with his problems to do
complete justice to his talents. He is too serious, his humor is wan
and meager, and the severe detachment of his plays makes them rather
cold and depressing. _The Silver Box_ (1906) deals with the inequality
of “justice” as it is administered in the police courts; _Joy_ (1907),
_Strife_ (1909), and _Justice_ (1910) discuss various social and
domestic problems; and _The Skin Game_ (1920) deals with the post-war
profiteer.

Mr. Galsworthy has written a considerable number of novels, which
culminate in _The Forsyte Saga_ (1922). This immense work includes
three longish novels and two shorter tales, all of which had previously
been published individually. In its breadth and power of comprehension,
and in its keen and destructive vision into social and personal
weaknesses, the book takes rank as one of the most noteworthy of the
present day.

=3. Sir James Barrie= was born in 1860 at Kirriemuir, a small town
in Forfarshire. Educated at Dumfries and at Edinburgh University, he
became a journalist, settling ultimately in London. His early sketches
and novels, such as _Auld Licht Idylls_ (1888), _A Window in Thrums_
(1889), and _Sentimental Tommy_ (1896), squared with the average
Englishman’s notions of Scotland, and were exceedingly successful.
The element of pathos was heavily drawn upon, and their quaint and
attractive humor--a delicate compound of fancy, pathos, and whimsical
sentiment--was something quite new of its kind.

His plays strongly resemble the novels. In them he displays a sweet
ethereal fancy that adds to the humor and pathos. _The Admirable
Crichton_ (1903) is fresh and delightful; _Peter Pan_, a golden venture
into unashamed nonsense, is to the stage what _Alice in Wonderland_
is to literature--a children’s classic; and _Quality Street_ (1901),
_What Every Woman Knows_ (1908), _A Kiss for Cinderella_ (1916), _Dear
Brutus_ (1917), and _Mary Rose_ (1920) have the sweetly sensitive
tears-in-laughter that make the Barrie plays quite different from all
others.

=4. John M. Synge (1871–1909)= deserves mention as being the most
important playwright of the purely Celtic school. He was always in
delicate health, and his period of play-writing was very brief. During
the years of his literary output he lived in close association with
Irish peasantry, especially that of the Aran Islands, where the Celtic
spirit is least affected by modern movements.

_The Shadow of the Glen_ (1903) and _Riders to the Sea_ (1904) are
short plays of one act; and with the longer plays called _The Well
of the Saints_ (1905), _The Playboy of the Western World_ (1907),
_The Tinker’s Wedding_ (1909), and _Deirdre of the Sorrows_ (1910),
they represent his published works. All portray the life of the Irish
peasant; but it is the peasant as viewed from the outside by the
cultured literary man. The observation is often keen, and the satiric
intention apparent; but the peasant remains an idealized literary
figure, and his language is idealized language. As acting plays,
moreover, they are heavy and lifeless, for Synge was little skilled
in stage technique. Their real importance lies in their style: a
slow-moving, wonderful prose, rich in poetic embellishment and sonorous
rhythms, and full of the typical Celtic mysticism. Consequently Synge’s
plays will be read far more than they will be acted. A specimen of his
style will be found on p. 568.

WRITERS OF MISCELLANEOUS PROSE

=1. Gilbert K. Chesterton= was born in London in the year 1874. He
was educated at St. Paul’s School, then studied art, but ultimately
became a journalist. He wrote much literary and miscellaneous prose
for journals, and distinguished himself as a writer of much ingenuity,
topsy-turvy humor, and a robust, rampageous style. His books of verse,
such as _Gray-beards at Play_ (1900), _The Wild Knight_ (1900), and
_Wine, Water, and Song_ (1915), are quite excellent in their way:
clever and vigorous, skillfully constructed, and genuinely funny. His
novels are fine-spun webs of ingenious nonsense, and include _The
Club of Queer Trades_ (1905) and _The Man Who was Thursday_ (1908).
His literary and miscellaneous work, often apparently willful and
inconsequent, is usually sane and substantial at bottom. His critical
work is well represented by his books on Dickens and Browning, and
his miscellaneous writing, gloriously Chestertonian, by _Tremendous
Trifles_ (1909) and _A Shilling for my Thoughts_ (1916).

=2. Hilaire Belloc=, the son of a Frenchman, was born in France in
1870. He was educated in England, served two years with the French
Artillery, and finished his education at Oxford University. Mr. Belloc
has contributed to most kinds of literature. His serious verses are
noteworthy for their ease and vigor, and his nonsense verses, such as
_A Bad Child’s Book of Beasts_, are excellent fooling. As a humorist
Mr. Belloc specializes in a super-solemnity of manner while he is
stating the most ridiculous problems. His humor, however, rarely lacks
the sharp stab of satire. His novels, like those of Disraeli, are a
shrewd commentary upon our political life. They have an unwinkingly
solemn humor, biting scorn scarcely concealed, and a clear and incisive
style. _Mr. Clutterbuck’s Election_ (1908) and _A Change in the
Cabinet_ (1909) come high in the thin ranks of the first-rate political
novel. His miscellaneous work is often clever, whimsically learned,
and often distinguished by the same parade of grave nonsense. _On
Nothing_ (1908) sets him high among modern essayists. His two travel
volumes, _The Path to Rome_ (1902) and _The Pyrenees_ (1909), in spite
of their somewhat labored mannerisms, deserve to become classical.

=3. Lord Morley (1838–1923)= is the sole writer of serious
miscellaneous prose that we have space to mention. He was born at
Blackburn, took his degree at Oxford, and became a journalist of a
Radical and philosophical type. He was in turn editor of more than one
important review, entered Parliament (1883), and was closely associated
with Mr. Gladstone during the struggles over the Irish Home Rule Bills.
He held high offices under the Liberal Government, was created Viscount
Morley of Blackburn (1908), and on the outbreak of war in 1914 retired
from public life.

Lord Morley wrote a great deal of literary, philosophical, and
miscellaneous work, distinguished by its scholarly care and accuracy,
by a deep but placable seriousness, and by a strong and flexible style.
His monographs on _Voltaire_ (1872), _Burke_ (1879), and _Walpole_
(1889) are models of what such brief works ought to be; his _Life of
Cromwell_ (1900) is a sane and scholarly treatment of a difficult
subject; and his monumental _Life of Gladstone_ (1903), though it lacks
proportion in some respects, is a well-filled storehouse of historical
fact, and, on this side of idolatry, a reverent tribute to a great man.

THE POETS

In the section that follows we have made a careful selection from the
poets of the period. Many more names might have been included, of a
value and interest little inferior to those given a place. In any case,
a selection such as this must be in the nature of an experiment, for
time alone will sift out the poems of permanent value.

=1. Sir William Watson= was born in 1858, the son of a Yorkshire
farmer, and was educated privately. His life has been devoted
to letters: a devotion that was recognized by Mr. Gladstone, who
transferred to him (1893) the Civil List pension that had been granted
to Tennyson. He was knighted in 1917.

His fairly abundant poetry includes _The Prince’s Quest_ (1880),
after the manner of Tennyson; _Wordsworth’s Grave_ (1890), the
style of which suggests the meditative poetry of Matthew Arnold;
_Lacrymæ Musarum_ (1893), which contains a fine elegy on the death
of Tennyson; _The Muse in Exile_ (1913); and _The Superhuman
Antagonists_ (1919). Sir William Watson is at his best as an elegiac
poet, when, though he is apt to become diffusely meditative, he writes
with sincerity and a scholarly enthusiasm. In the heroic vein, such as
he attempted in the last poem mentioned above, he is merely violent,
without being impressive. His political poetry, such as _The Year of
Shame_ (1897), is strong rhetorical verse, palpably sincere, but of
no high poetical merit.

=2. Francis Thompson (1859–1907)= had a career suggestive of that
of the poets of the eighteenth century. He was born in Lancashire, and
was dedicated to the profession of medicine. He abandoned medicine, and
went to London as a friendless literary adventurer. Then followed the
tragically familiar tale of loneliness, poverty, opium, and disease.
After a time (1893) his poems drew a little attention to himself, and
he was rescued just in time from the fate of Chatterton. His health,
however, was never fully restored, and finally he died of consumption.

In style and temper Thompson is a strange blend of the poets of
past epochs. He has the rapt religious enthusiasm and the soaring
imagination of the Metaphysical poets, as can be clearly seen in his
truly magnificent _Hound of Heaven_; or again, as in _The
Daisy_, he is the inspired babbler of the type of William Blake. In
one sense he wrote too much, when he marred his splendid lyrical energy
with too abundant detail; in another sense he wrote too little, for the
fire that was within him was extinguished before it could burn clear.
He is not quite another Coleridge, hag-ridden with opium, but at least
he is a lyrical poet far above mediocrity.

=3. John Masefield= (born 1874) has contributed much poetry to modern
literature. Quite a budget of long descriptive-narrative poems has come
from him, including _The Widow in the Bye Street_ (1912), a grimly
realistic tale; _Dauber_ (1913), full of the splendor and terror of
the sea; and _Reynard the Fox_ (1920), a bustling tale of the foxhunt.
These long poems are well informed and masterfully narrated, with many
purple passages of description, and in the grimmer incidents a strong
fidelity to fact that does not stop short of strong language. Mr.
Masefield’s shorter poems, though they do not include any great lyrics,
are dignified, reticent, and tuneful. He is undoubtedly at his best
when he writes of the sea, a subject that was never far from the hearts
of his great poetical predecessors.

=4. William H. Davies= was born at Newport, Monmouthshire, in 1870. In
his youth he emigrated to America, where he became a tramp, and then
served as a cattleman on a steamer. An accident in which he lost a
foot made him incapable of hard physical work, so for a living he sang
in the streets and lived in common lodging-houses. His first volume
of verse, _The Soul’s Destroyer_ (1906), rescued him from penury. His
_Collected Poems_ (1916) and _Forty New Pieces_ (1918) contain his best
work.

Like Burns, Mr. Davies is the natural, untaught lyrical genius. His
capacity is neither so deep nor so intense as that of Burns, but
within his limits he can write poems of great beauty. When he writes
of nature he almost recreates the spirit of Wordsworth, he shows such
insight, freshness, and ease. His artless simplicity is at times almost
grotesque, yet the reader cannot help admitting that it is in keeping
with his subject. This marked naïveté, however, is often given a queer
metaphysical twist; or it sometimes rises, with a mighty rhythm,
into passages of noble harmony. At least half a dozen of his shorter
pieces--the expressive _Thunderstorms_; the exquisite _Moon_, so old in
theme and so original in expression; the dainty _Sweet Stay-at-Home_,
with its haunting Caroline meter and phrasing; the absolutely perfect
_The White Cascade_, eight lines long; the provokingly beautiful
_Dreams of the Sea_, that one cries out upon as being too wonderful
to be merely imitative of the grand Marlowe manner; and the amazing
verses, Elizabethan to the core, beginning _When I Am Old_--are stamped
with immortality. The temptation to quote is irresistible:

(1) When I am old, and it is spring,
And joy leaps dancing, wild and free,
Clear out of every living thing,
While I command no ecstasy;
And to translate the songs of birds
Will be beyond my power in words:

* * * * *

For when these little songs shall fail,
These happy notes that to the world
Are puny mole-hills, nothing more,
That unto me are Alps of gold--
That toad’s dark life must be my own,
Buried alive inside a stone.

(2) Thou knowest the way to tame the wildest life,
Thou knowest the way to bend the great and proud:
I think of that Armada whose puffed sails,
Greedy and large, came swallowing every cloud.

But I have seen the sea-boy young and drowned,
Lying on shore, and, by thy cruel hand,
A seaweed beard was on his tender chin,
His heaven-blue eyes were filled with common sand.

And yet, for all, I yearn for thee again,
To sail once more upon thy fickle flood:
I’ll hear thy waves wash under my death-bed,
Thy salt is lodged for ever in my blood.
_Dreams of the Sea_

=5. John Drinkwater= (born 1882) was educated at Oxford High School,
and for a time worked in insurance offices. He has done much to revive
the modern drama, helping to found the Birmingham Repertory Theatre.
As a poet he is representative of the work of his day: meditative
rather than passionate, descriptive rather than narrative, and always
clear, competent, and precise. He is one of the best of modern
blank-verse writers. His shorter poems will be found in his _Poems of
1908–1914_ (1914) and _Swords and Ploughshares_ (1915).

=6. Rupert C. Brooke (1887–1915)= was educated at Rugby and Cambridge,
and for a time traveled in America. In 1914 he enlisted in the Royal
Naval Division, took part in the fighting at Antwerp, and died of fever
while on active service in the Dardanelles.

Brooke’s lamentably early death gave rise to a quite natural tendency
to overpraise his poetry. The exaggerated estimates made at his death
must be revised, and real justice done to his name. As a poet he is
not consistently great, but he is always readable, often delightfully
mannered and humorous (as in the poem called _Heaven_), and on at least
one occasion, in the splendid sonnet called _The Soldier_, touches
greatness. His sonnets are perhaps his best achievement. In this very
difficult species of composition he has the requisite technical skill
and delicate ear for rhythm, and he can catch the unmistakable surge
and swell that mark the successful sonnet.

We quote from his piece called _Heaven_. In felicity of phrasing and
aptness of humor it is of the best Metaphysical tradition.

But somewhere, beyond Space and Time,
Is wetter water, slimier slime!
And there (they trust) there swimmeth One
Who swam ere rivers were begun,
Immense, of fishy form and mind,
Squamous, omnipotent, and kind;
And under that Almighty Fin,
The littlest fish may enter in.
Oh! never fly conceals a hook,
Fish say, in the Eternal Brook,
But more than mundane weeds are there,
And mud, celestially fair;
Fat caterpillars drift around,
And Paradisal grubs are found;
Unfading moths, immortal flies,
And the worm that never dies.
And in that Heaven of all their wish,
There shall be no more land, say fish.

=7. William B. Yeats= was born in Dublin in 1865, and was educated
both in London and in his native city. He studied art, but his real
bent was literary. He was one of the chief supporters of the Celtic
Revival, helped to found the Irish Literary Theatre (1899), wrote plays
for it, and discovered other literary talent, including that of Mr.
Synge.

Mr. Yeats’s poetry was published in several volumes, and was issued in
a collected edition in 1908. _The Wanderings of Oisin_ (1889) was his
first volume, and among the rest we may mention _The Countess Cathleen_
(1892), a romantic drama, _The Wind among the Reeds_ (1899), containing
some of his best lyrics, and _The Wild Swans of Coole_ (1917). Of his
poetical plays _The Land of Heart’s Desire_ (1894) is perhaps the best,
and of the prose dramas _Cathleen ni Hoolihan_ (1902) is a fine example.

Mr. Yeats is a fastidious poet, writing little and revising often.
As a consequence the average merit of his poetry is very high; and
sometimes, as in the often-quoted _Lake Isle of Innisfree_, he breathes
the pathos and longing that are generally regarded as typical of
the Celtic spirit. His style has the usual Celtic peculiarities: a
meditative and melancholy beauty, a misty idealism, and a sweet and
dignified diction. Mr. Yeats is the most important of the modern Irish
poets.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

=1. The Novel.= In mass of production the novel easily outdoes all
other species of literature; in general workmanship it has advanced
exceedingly; and in importance it probably deserves to take the first
place. We shall comment briefly upon a few of the outstanding lines of
development.

(_a_) _The Novel as Propaganda._ The “purpose novel” has long been a
feature of our literature, but was never so prominent as it is to-day.
It seems as if the novel were swallowing up the duties of the sermon,
the pamphlet, and the text-book. Of all the subjects that are discussed
social and religious questions are the most popular.

(_b_) _The Realism of the Novel._ This will probably be regarded
as typical of the age. The realistic novel certainly forms a large
proportion of the whole. In subject it deals with modern life in all
its complexity; in detail it seeks to reflect faithfully the world we
live in; and in style it is studiously subdued. How much this modern
development makes for the improvement of the novel is a question still
unsolved. In the hands of a novelist of the caliber of Mr. Hardy
realism becomes actual beauty, and George Gissing and Mr. Galsworthy
are able to make it artistically important. In lesser hands, however,
realism is apt to degenerate into squalor and ugliness, and the
studious simplicity of style becomes a dreary burden.

(_c_) _The Romantic Novel._ Along with the flood of realistic novels,
there is a steady stream of the romantic kind. Mr. Kipling, who seems
to delight in such mundane things as machinery, is concerned with
showing the intense romantic beauty behind them. Other writers, such as
=Maurice Hewlett= and =Kenneth Grahame=, are openly absorbed in things
that are remote and beautiful--the essential qualities of the romance.
On the other hand, it is unfortunately true that the historical novel
shows hardly a flicker of life.

(_d_) _The Commercializing of the Novel._ It is a common habit to decry
the age one lives in, and the present age is no exception. It is freely
declared that, in spite of the importance attained by the novel, there
are few great novelists, and that the level of merit, such as it is,
will rapidly fall. The decline, moreover, is (it is declared) due to
the stress that is being laid upon the commercial value of fiction.
Novels are now expensive things to publish; to make each one of them
worth publishing a large circulation must be assured; to ensure
this circulation the novel must appeal to the vulgar taste, and must
avoid originality and teasing literary devices--these are the charges
levelled against the modern novel. Such assertions are exaggerated, but
there is no doubt that the persistent desire to turn the novel into a
commercial chattel will lead to its decline as literature.

=2. The Short Story.= This type of fiction has become so important that
it is here necessary to give a very brief sketch of its development.

(_a_) _Definition._ To define a “short” story, we must clearly come to
some conclusion as to length. We can approximately define this length
by saying that a short story should be capable of being read at one
brief sitting.

(_b_) _Medium of Publication._ At the very outset a difficulty met
the writer of the short story: how was he to get his work published?
The short story is not long enough to appear as a book by itself.
There were two ways of overcoming the difficulty: by inserting (or
interpolating) the short story in the midst of a long one, or by using
it as an item in a magazine. We shall trace the development of both
these methods. The publication of collections of short stories in
volume form is a comparatively modern practice.

(_c_) _The Interpolated Story._ This was the earliest form of the
short story. As early as the romance of _Don Quixote_ we have one or
more of the characters of the main story relating some short tale that
acts as a foil to the principal narrative. The interpolated story is
a common device in the picaresque novel, and it is freely employed by
Defoe, Fielding, Smollett, and Sterne. Scott, in his famous _Wandering
Willie’s Tale_, which is introduced in _Redgauntlet_, continues the
practice; and as late as Dickens we have the common use of short
stories, some of them of very inferior quality, in _The Pickwick
Papers_. At this point the interpolated story becomes quite rare in
good fiction, for the magazine has appeared on the scene and has
provided the natural medium for the genuine short story. In many cases
the interpolated tale is of great merit, but it spoils the unity of the
main story, and so it is better out of the way.

(_d_) _The Magazine Short Story._ The development of the popular
magazine led to the establishment of this class of tale. In English
its history can be said to begin with Addison, whose Coverley papers
are really a collection of short stories; the record continued through
the eighteenth century in the miscellaneous work of Goldsmith and Dr.
Johnson. During the first half of the nineteenth century there was
a decline in the production of the short story. The lighter type of
magazine was not yet in favor, and the more ponderous journals, like
_The Quarterly Review_ and _The Edinburgh Review_, which specialized in
literary and political articles, held the stage. _Blackwood’s Magazine_
and _The London Magazine_ encouraged the more popular kinds of fiction.
Among their contributors were James Hogg, De Quincey, and Charles
Lamb. Some of the essays of these writers, such as Lamb’s famous tale
of roast pig, are short stories thinly disguised. Another contributor
of the same kind was =Douglas Jerrold (1803–57)=, whose _Cakes and
Ale_ (1842) is one of the first collections of short stories and
sketches. After the middle of the century there was a rapid increase in
part-fiction magazines, such as Dickens’s _All the Year Round_ (1859)
and Thackeray’s _Cornhill Magazine_ (1860). As the century drew near
its close the number of lighter magazines largely increased, until
nowadays we have a large proportion entirely given over to the supply
of fiction. Nearly all the writers of the modern epoch have taken to
the short story, and most of them have issued this class of their work
in volume form. To the names already mentioned in this chapter we may
add those of =Sir Arthur Conan Doyle= (born 1859) and =W. W. Jacobs=
(born 1863). The former struck a rich vein in the popular detective
story, and the latter specialized in the humorous presentation of the
longshoreman.

=3. The Drama.= (_a_) _The Poetical Drama._ In this class of drama
there is little to set on record. The blank-verse tragedy is
still written with skill and enthusiasm, but there is little of
outstanding merit, and nothing of originality. The poetical dramas
of Mr. Yeats--for example, _The Countess Cathleen_ (1892) and _The
Shadowy Waters_ (1900)--have all his mystical beauty, and are the most
original of their class. =Stephen Phillips (1868–1915)= achieved some
distinction, and even considerable stage success, with his smooth
and Tennysonian blank-verse tragedies, such as _Paolo and Francesca_
(1899), _Ulysses_ (1902), and _The Virgin Goddess_ (1910). Mr. Hardy’s
_Dynasts_ is dramatic only in form; it is rather a philosophical poem
with a dramatic setting.

(_b_) _The Prose Drama._ In this age the activity of the prose drama is
second only to that of the novel. The mood of the time is essentially
critical, and the prose drama is an excellent medium for expressing
such a mood. Among the earliest of the modern dramatists is =Sir
Arthur Pinero= (born 1855), and we can trace the development through
the work of Mr. Galsworthy, already mentioned, and of =St. John Hankin
(1869–1909)= and =Granville Barker= (born 1877). Their plays have the
note of the realistic novel in the emphasis they lay upon common life
and common speech. The plays of Mr. Shaw, by reason of their wit and
high spirits, stand rather apart from this class; and the brilliance of
the Wilde comedies is that of a past age.

=4. Poetry.= (_a_) The main poetical tendency of the time is toward the
_lyric_, especially toward a chastened and rather tepid form of it. Of
this class, the lyrics of Sir William Watson are fairly typical. Mr.
Davies’s best pieces, and some of Mr. Hardy’s, are good examples of the
simple and direct lyric, and Francis Thompson excels in the descriptive
style.

(_b_) In the class of _descriptive-narrative poetry_ we have the
sea-pieces of Mr. Masefield and the rustic poetry of Mr. Drinkwater. To
these we must add the work of =Ralph Hodgson= (born 1871), several of
whose poems, in particular _The Bull_ and _The Song of Honour_, have
some of the ecstatic energy of the young Coleridge.

(_c_) In addition to what we may call the standard types of poetry,
there are experiments in _vers libre_, or _free verse_ (that is,
rhymeless verse of the type of Matthew Arnold’s _The Strayed
Reveller_), and the more daring efforts of others who defy the
conventions of rhyme, meter, and even intelligibility. Experiments such
as these are all for the good of poetry, which, if it is to live at
all, must live by progressing. So far, the attempts of the innovators
have produced nothing that is really noteworthy; and with that we must
leave them.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE

=1. Poetry.= As can easily be understood, in such a troubled age
there is little uniformity in style. The average verse is distinguished
by a correct and scholarly diction, somewhat ornate, but clear and ably
used. Of the highly ornate style there is little to mention, except the
more elaborate compositions of Francis Thompson; but from the scholarly
elegance of =Dr. Bridges= (born 1844) we may run down the scale
of simplicity through the mannered graces of Mr. Kipling, the crabbed
satiric verses of Mr. Hardy, the high simplicity of Mr. Davies, to
the sweet child-verse of =Walter de la Mare= (born 1873), whose
_Songs of Childhood_ (1902), _Peacock Pie_ (1913), and other
volumes are the almost perfect expression of artless youth. When we
arrive here we cannot allow to pass unnoticed the lyrics of =James
Stephens= (born 1882), whose poems of country life are simplicity
itself, but full of the deepest sympathy. His short poem called _The
Snare_ is a little masterpiece.

When simplicity develops further it becomes realism, and in poetry
the prevailing taste is revealed. The European War, as was natural,
produced a crop of realistic poems. Of this kind are the verses of
=Siegfried Sassoon= (born 1886), whose war-poems are distinguished
by a passionate desire to get to grips with reality.

=2. Prose.= In this age, as in most other ages, there is much
lamentation over the decay of English prose. There is probably a great
deal of truth in the charge that our prose is lapsing into slovenly
ways, and there is no doubt that the stress of modern methods leads to
haphazard and makeshift production. On the other hand, we have but to
glance at the names that have a place in this chapter to find exponents
of prose styles who represent the best traditions: the reverent respect
shown for English in the ornate prose of Mr. Conrad; the massive
middle prose of Mr. Hardy; the sonorous and poetical mannerisms of the
Celts; the eighteenth-century grace and precision of Lord Morley; the
swift, clean swoop of the Shavian manner; and the quick ease of Mr.
Wells. Surely such an age is not unblessed. With regard to the future
none dare dogmatize; but, with a confidence born of the knowledge of
nineteen centuries, one can look forward undismayed.

GENERAL QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES

NOTE.--_In answering some of the following questions the
General Tables (Appendix I) will be of use._

1. With the aid of the following and other quotations, give an account
of the origin and development of English blank verse. Compare and
contrast the styles of the given extracts.

(1) Now came still evening on, and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad;
Silence accompanied, for beast and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale--
She all night long her amorous descant sung;
Silence was pleased. Now glowed the firmament
With living sapphires; Hesperus, that led
The starry host, rode brightest till the moon,
Rising in clouded majesty, at length
Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light
And o’er the dark her silver mantle threw.
MILTON, _Paradise Lost_

(2) At length a pleasant instantaneous gleam
Startles the pensive traveller while he treads
His lonesome path, with unobserving eye
Bent earthwards; he looks up--the clouds are split
Asunder,--and above his head he sees
The clear Moon, and the glory of the heavens.
There, in a black-blue vault she sails along,
Followed by multitudes of stars, that, small
And sharp and bright, along the dark abyss
Drive as she drives: how fast they wheel away,
Yet vanish not!--the wind is in the tree,
But they are silent;--still they roll along
Immeasurably distant; and the vault,
Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds,
Still deepens its unfathomable depth.
At length the Vision closes; and the mind,
Not undisturbed by the delight it feels,
Which slowly settles into peaceful calm,
Is left to muse upon the solemn scene.
WORDSWORTH, _The Prelude_

(3) And from the reading, and that slab I leant
My elbow on, the while I read and read
I turned, to free myself and find the world,
And stepped out on the narrow terrace, built
Over the street and opposite the church,
And paced its lozenge brickwork sprinkled cool;
Because Felice-church-side stretched, a-glow
Through each square window fringed for festival,
Whence came the clear voice of the cloistered ones
Chanting a chant made for midsummer nights--
I know not what particular praise of God,
It always came and went with June. Beneath
I’ the street, quick shown by openings of the sky
When flame fell silently from cloud to cloud,
Richer than that gold snow Jove rained on Rhodes,
The townsmen walked by twos and threes, and talked,
Drinking the blackness in default of air--
A busy human sense beneath my feet:
While in and out the terrace-plants, and round
One branch of tall datura, waxed and waned
The lamp-fly lured there, wanting the white flower.
Over the roof o’ the lighted church I looked
A bowshot to the street’s end, north away
Out of the Roman gate to the Roman road
By the river, till I felt the Apennine.
BROWNING, _The Ring and the Book_

2. Point out the features of each of the following extracts that are
typical of the author or his period. Write a brief critique of the
style of each.

(1) Although there be none so ignorant that doth not know,
neither any so impudent that will not confess, friendship to
be the jewel of human joy: yet whosoever shall see this amity
grounded upon a little affection, will soon conjecture that
it shall be dissolved upon a light occasion: as in the sequel
of Euphues and Philautus you shall soon see, whose hot love
waxed soon cold: for as the best wine doth make the sharpest
vinegar, so the deepest love turneth to the deadliest hate. Who
deserved the most blame, in mine opinion, it is doubtful and
so difficult, that I dare not presume to give verdict. For love
being the cause for which so many mischiefs have been attempted,
I am not yet persuaded whether of them was most to be blamed,
but certainly neither of them was blameless.
LYLY, _Euphues and his England_

(2) A doubtful truce restored the appearances of concord, till
the death of Abu Taleb abandoned Mahomet to the power of his
enemies, at the moment when he was deprived of his domestic
comforts by the loss of his faithful and generous Cadijah. Abu
Sophian, the chief of the branch of Ommiyah, succeeded to the
principality of the republic of Mecca. A zealous votary of
the idols, a mortal foe of the line of Hashem, he convened an
assembly of the Koreishites and their allies, to decide the fate
of the apostle. His imprisonment might provoke the despair of
his enthusiasm; and the exile of an eloquent and popular fanatic
would diffuse the mischief through the provinces of Arabia.
His death was resolved; and they agreed that a sword from each
tribe should be buried in his heart, to divide the guilt of the
blood, and baffle the vengeance of the Hashemites. An angel or a
spy revealed their conspiracy; and flight was the only resource
of Mahomet. At the dead of night, accompanied by his friend
Abubeker, he silently escaped from his house: the assassins
watched at the door; but they were deceived by the figure of
Ali, who reposed on the bed, and was covered with the green
vestment of the apostle.
GIBBON, _The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_

(3) There was no sleeping in the daytime on the planter’s
clearing: the wages were too high to risk. Deesa sat on Moti
Guj’s neck and gave him orders, while Moti Guj rooted up the
stumps--for he owned a magnificent pair of tusks; or pulled at
the end of a rope--for he had a magnificent pair of shoulders;
while Deesa kicked behind the ears and said he was the king of
elephants. At evening time Moti Guj would wash down his three
hundred pounds’ weight of green food with a quart of arrack,
and Deesa would take a share and sing songs between Moti Guj’s
legs till it was time to go to bed. Once a week Deesa led Moti
Guj down to the river, and Moti Guj lay on his side luxuriously
in the shallows, while Deesa went over him with a coir-swab and
a brick.... Then Deesa would look at his feet, and examine his
eyes, and turn up the fringes of his mighty ears in case of
sores or budding ophthalmia. After inspection, the two would
“come up with a song from the sea,”

Moti Guj all black and shining, waving a torn tree branch twelve
feet long in his trunk, and Deesa knotting up his own long wet
hair.
KIPLING, _Moti Guj--Mutineer_

(4) As the dawn was just breaking he found himself close to
Covent Garden. The darkness lifted, and, flushed with faint
fires, the sky hollowed itself into a perfect pearl. Huge carts
filled with nodding lilies rumbled slowly down the polished
empty street. The air was heavy with the perfume of the flowers,
and their beauty seemed to bring him an anodyne for his pain. He
followed into the market, and watched the men unloading their
waggons. A white-smocked carter offered him some cherries. He
thanked him, and wondered why he refused to accept any money for
them, and began to eat them listlessly. They had been plucked at
midnight, and the coldness of the moon had entered into them.
A long line of boys carrying crates of striped tulips, and of
yellow and red roses, defiled in front of him, threading their
way through the huge jade-green piles of vegetables. Under the
portico, with its grey sun-bleached pillars, loitered a group of
draggled, bareheaded girls, waiting for the auction to be over.
Others crowded round the swinging doors of the coffee-house in
the Piazza. The heavy cart-horses slipped and stamped upon the
rough stones, shaking their bells and trappings. Some of the
drivers were lying asleep on a pile of sacks. Iris-necked and
pink-footed, the pigeons ran about picking up seeds.
WILDE, _The Picture of Dorian Gray_

3. With the aid of the following extracts, and of others known to you,
say what subjects are best suited to the simple style in poetry. State
the merits of the style, and its limitations. Write a critical note
upon each of the given extracts.

(1) Dreamers, mark the honey bee;
Mark the tree
Where the blue cap “_tootle tee_”
Sings a glee,
Sung to Adam and to Eve--
Here they be.
When floods covered every bough,
Noah’s ark
Heard that ballad singing now;
Hark, hark,

“_Tootle, tootle, tootle tee_”--
Can it be
Pride and fame must shadows be?
Come and see--
Every season owns her own;
Bird and bee
Sing creation’s music on;
Nature’s glee
Is in every mood and tone
Eternity
CLARE, _The Blue Tit_

(2) Few months of life has he in store
As he to you will tell,
For still, the more he works, the more
Do his weak ankles swell.
My gentle Reader, I perceive
How patiently you’ve waited,
And now I fear that you expect
Some tale will be related.

O Reader! had you in your mind
Such stores as silent thought can bring,
O gentle Reader! you would find
A tale in every thing.
What more I have to say is short,
And you must kindly take it:
It is no tale; but, should you think,
Perhaps a tale you’ll make it.
WORDSWORTH, _Simon Lee_

(3) Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:

“Pipe a song about a lamb!”
So I piped with merry cheer.
“Piper, pipe that song again!”
So I piped; he went to hear.

* * * * *

“Piper, sit thee down, and write
In a book that all may read.”
So he vanished from my sight;
And I plucked a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.
BLAKE, _Songs of Innocence_

4. Sketch the history of the prose drama from the Restoration to modern
times. The following extracts are fairly typical of the style and
formal features of the drama:

(1) (_To them_) Lady WISHFORT _and_ FAINALL

_Lady Wishfort._ Nephew, you are welcome.

_Sir Wilfull Witwoud._ Aunt, your servant.

_Fainall._ Sir Wilfull, your most faithful servant.

_Sir Wilfull._ Cousin Fainall, give me your hand.

_Lady Wishfort._ Cousin Witwoud, your servant; Mr.
Petulant, your servant--nephew, you are welcome again. Will
you drink anything after your journey, nephew, before you eat?
Dinner’s almost ready.

_Sir Wilfull._ I’m very well I thank you, aunt--however, I
thank you for your courteous offer. ’Sheart, I was afraid you
would have been in the fashion too, and have remembered to have
forgot your relations. Here’s your cousin Tony, belike, I mayn’t
call him brother for fear of offence.

_Lady Wishfort._ O he’s a rallier, nephew--my cousin’s
a wit; and your great wits always choose to rally their
best friends. When you have been abroad, nephew, you’ll
understand raillery better. [FAINALL _and_ Mrs.
MARWOOD _talk apart_.

_Sir Wilfull._ Why then let him hold his tongue in the
meantime; and rail when that day comes.
CONGREVE, _The Way of the World_

(2) _Mrs. Candour._ What do you think of Miss Simper?

_Sir Benjamin Backbite._ Why, she has very pretty teeth.

_Lady Teazle._ Yes, and on that account, when she is
neither speaking nor laughing (which very seldom happens), she
never absolutely shuts her mouth, but leaves it always on a jar,
as it were--thus--[_Shows her teeth._

_Mrs. Candour._ How can you be so ill-natured?

_Lady Teazle._ Nay, I allow even that’s better than the
pains Mrs. Prim takes to conceal her losses in front. She
draws her mouth till it positively resembles the aperture of
a poor’s-box, and all her words appear to slide out edgewise
as it were thus: _How do you do, madam? Yes, madam._
[_Mimics._

_Lady Sneerwell._ Very well, Lady Teazle; I see you can be
a little severe.

_Lady Teazle._ In defence of a friend, it is but justice.
But here comes Sir Peter to spoil our pleasantry.

_Enter_ Sir PETER TEAZLE

_Sir Peter._ Ladies, your most obedient. [_Aside_]
Mercy on me, here is the whole set! a character dead at every
word, I suppose.
SHERIDAN, _The School for Scandal_

(3) _Sarah_ [_tidying herself, in great excitement_].
Let you be sitting here and keeping a great blaze, the way he
can look on my face; and let you seem to be working, for it’s a
great love the like of him have to talk of work.

_Michael_ [_moodily, sitting down and beginning to work
at a tin can_]. Great love, surely.

_Sarah_ [_eagerly_]. Make a great blaze now, Michael
Byrne.

[_The_ Priest _comes in on right; she comes
forward in front of him_.

_Sarah_ [_in a very plausible voice_]. Good evening,
your reverence. It’s a grand fine night, by the grace of God.

_Priest._ The Lord have mercy on us! What kind of living
woman is it that you are at all?

_Sarah._ It’s Sarah Casey I am, your reverence, the Beauty
of Ballinacree, and it’s Michael Byrne is below in the ditch.

_Priest._ A holy pair, surely! Let you get out of my way.

[_He tries to pass by._

_Sarah_ [_keeping in front of him_]. We are wanting a
little word with your reverence.
SYNGE, _The Tinker’s Wedding_

(4) HORNBLOWER _enters--a man of medium height, thoroughly
broadened, blown out, as it were, with success. He has thick,
coarse hair, just grizzled, very bushy eyebrows, a wide mouth.
He wears quite ordinary clothes, as if that department were in
charge of someone who knew about such things. He has a small
rose in his buttonhole, and carries a Homburg hat, which one
suspects will look too small on his head._

_Hornblower._ Good morning! good morning! How are ye,
Dawker? Fine morning! Lovely weather!

[_His voice has a curious blend in its tone of brass and oil,
and an accent not quite Scotch nor quite North country._

Haven’t seen ye for a long time Hillcrist.

_Hillcrist_ [_who has risen_]. Not since I sold you
Longmeadow and those cottages, I believe.

_Hornblower._ Dear me, now! that’s what I came about.

_Hillcrist_ [_subsiding again into his chair_].
Forgive me! Won’t you sit down?

_Hornblower_ [_not sitting_]. Have ye got gout? That’s
unfortunate. I never get it. I’ve no disposition that way. Had
no ancestors, you see. Just me own drinking to answer for.

_Hillcrist._ You’re lucky.
GALSWORTHY, _The Skin Game_

5. What do you understand by “Romanticism” in poetry? Point out any
Romantic features in the following extracts. Does Romanticism take any
other forms than those apparent in the given passages? Give an account
of what is commonly known as the Romantic Revival. Are there any other
periods in our literature in which Romanticism flourished?

(1) Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them--ding-dong, bell.
SHAKESPEARE, _The Tempest_

(2) And they are gone: aye, ages long ago
These lovers fled away into the storm.
That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,
And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form
Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm,
Were long be-nightmared. Angela the old
Died palsy-twitched, with meagre face deform;
The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,
For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold.
KEATS, _The Eve of St. Agnes_

(3) _At the Gate of the Sun, Bagdad, in olden time._

THE MERCHANTS (_together_)

Away, for we are ready to a man!
Our camels sniff the evening and are glad.
Lead on, O Master of the Caravan:
Lead on the Merchant-Princes of Bagdad.

THE CHIEF DRAPER

Have we not Indian carpets dark as wine,
Turbans and sashes, gowns and bows and veils,
And broideries of intricate design,
And printed hangings in enormous bales?

THE CHIEF GROCER

We have rose-candy, we have spikenard,
Mastic and terebinth and oil and spice,
And such sweet jams meticulously jarred
As God’s own Prophet eats in Paradise.

THE PRINCIPAL JEWS

And we have manuscripts in peacock styles
By Ali of Damascus; we have swords
Engraved with storks and apes and crocodiles,
And heavy beaten necklaces, for Lords.
J. E. FLECKER (1885–1915),
_The Golden Journey to Samarkand_

6. In what respects are the following passages realistic? What are
the chief aspects of realism in poetry? Are there any periods in our
literature when realism was a prominent feature?

(1) Tam was able
To note upon the haly table
A murderer’s banes in gibbet airns;[238]
Twa span-lang, wee unchristened bairns;
A thief new-cutted frae a rape,[239]
Wi’ his last gasp his gab[240] did gape;
Five tomahawks, wi’ blude red-rusted;
Five scimitars wi’ murder crusted;
A garter, which a babe had strangled,
A knife, a father’s throat had mangled,
Whom his ain son o’ life bereft,
The grey hairs yet stack to the heft.
BURNS, _Tam o’ Shanter_

(2) Here is a thing that happened. Like wild beasts whelped, for
den,
In a wild part of North England, there lived once two wild men
Inhabiting one homestead, neither a hovel nor hut,
Time out of mind their birthright: father and son, these--but--
Such a son, such a father! Most wildness by degrees
Softens away: yet, last of their line, the wildest and worst
were these.

* * * * *

Thus were they found by the few sparse folk of the countryside;
But how fared each with other? E’en beasts couch, hide by hide,
In a growling, grudged agreement: so, father and son aye curled
The closelier up in their den because the last of their kind in
the world.
BROWNING, _Halbert and Hob_

(3) (_A newcomer overhears some men discussing his wife._)

“And he knows nothing of her past;
I am glad the girl’s in luck at last;
Such ones, though stale to native eyes,
Newcomers snatch at as a prize.”

“Yes, being a stranger he sees her blent
Of all that’s fresh and innocent,
Nor dreams how many a love-campaign
She had enjoyed before his reign!”

That night there was the splash of a fall
Over the slimy harbour-wall:
They searched, and at the deepest place
Found him with crabs upon his face.
HARDY, _Satires of Circumstance_

(4) Some ancient man with silver locks
Will lift his weary face to say:
“War was a fiend who stopped our clocks
Although we met him grim and gay.”
And then he’ll speak of Haig’s last drive,
Marvelling that any came alive
Out of the shambles that men built
And smashed, to cleanse the world of guilt.
But the boys, with grin and sidelong glance,
Will think, “Poor grandad’s day is done.”
And dream of those who fought in France
And lived in time to share the fun.
SASSOON, _Songbooks of the War_

7. Trace the presence of realistic elements in the English novel from
Fielding to Thomas Hardy.

8. The following extracts illustrate the history of the ballad. What
features have they in common, and in what respects do they differ?
Trace the history of the ballad in English literature.

(1) The lady she walked in yon wild wood,
Aneath the hollin tree,
And she was aware of two bonny bairns
Were running at her knee.

“Now why pull ye the red rose, fair bairns,
And why the white lilie?”
“O we sue wi’ them at the seat of grace
For the soul of thee, ladie.”

She heard a voice, a sweet, low voice,
Say, “Weans, ye tarry lang”--
She stretched her hand to the youngest bairn,
“Kiss me before ye gang.”

She sought to take a lily hand,
And kiss a rosy chin--
“Oh nought sae pure can abide the touch
Of a hand red-wet wi’ sin!”

“O! where dwell ye, my ain sweet bairns,
I’m woe and weary grown!”
“O! lady, we live where woe never is,
In a land to flesh unknown.”

There came a shape that seemed to her
As a rainbow ’mang the rain;
And sair these sweet babes pled for her,
And they pled and pled in vain.

“And O! and O!” said the youngest babe,
“My mother maun come in.”
“And O! and O!” said the eldest babe,
“Wash her twa hands frae sin.”

“And O! and O!” said the youngest babe,
“She nursed me on her knee.”
“And O! and O!” said the eldest babe,
“She’s a mither yet to me.”
ANONYMOUS

(2) Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man
Of whom the world might say,
That still a goodly race he ran
When’er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad and bit the man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wondering neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.

The wound it seem’d both sore and sad
To every Christian eye;
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,
That showed the rogues they lied:
The man recover’d of the bite,
The dog it was that died.
GOLDSMITH, _Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog_

(3) Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall
meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment
Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor
Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, though they come from
the ends of the earth!

Kamal is out with twenty men to raise the Border-side,
And he has lifted the Colonel’s mare that is the Colonel’s
pride:
He has lifted her out of the stable-door between the dawn and
the day,
And turned the calkins upon her feet, and ridden her far away.
KIPLING, _The Ballad of East and West_

9. What effects had Milton’s politics and public work upon his prose
and verse? In this respect compare him with Dryden. Write a general
essay upon “The Influence of Contemporary Events upon the Poet and the
Man of Letters.”

10. Observe the style and subject of each of the following extracts,
and name the author of each. Write a critical comparison of the
extracts. In what respects is each typical of its period?

(1) Then said Christian, “You make me afraid, but whither shall
I fly to be safe? If I go back to mine own country, that is
prepared for fire and brimstone; and I shall certainly perish
there. If I can get to the celestial city, I am sure to be in
safety there. I must venture. To go back is nothing but death;
to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it.
I will yet go forward.” So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the
hill; and Christian went on his way. But thinking again of what
he heard from the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, that
he might read therein and be comforted; but he felt and found it
not.

(2) His prose is the model of the middle style: on grave
subjects not formal, on light occasions not grovelling; pure
without scrupulosity, and exact without apparent elaboration;
always equable and always easy, without glowing words or pointed
sentences. Addison never deviates from his track to snatch a
grace; he seeks no ambitious ornaments and tries no hazardous
innovations. His page is always luminous, but never blazes in
unexpected splendour.

(3) Two men I honour, and no third. First, the toilworn
Craftsman that with earth-made Implement laboriously conquers
the Earth, and makes her man’s. Venerable to me is the hard
Hand; crooked, coarse; wherein notwithstanding lies a cunning
virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the Sceptre of this Planet.
Venerable too is the rugged face, all weather-tanned, besoiled,
with its rude intelligence; for it is the face of a Man living
manlike. O, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and even
because we must pity as well as love thee! Hardly-entreated
Brother! For us was thy back so bent, for us were thy straight
limbs and fingers so deformed: thou wert our Conscript, on whom
the lot fell, and fighting our battles wert so marred.

11. Compare Shakespeare’s methods of description and characterization
with those of Chaucer. Wherein lies the difference, and wherein the
resemblance?

12. Give a historical account of the sonnet in English, from its
inception to the death of Tennyson. Who were the most successful
writers in this type of poetry, and why were they so successful?

13. Distinguish between wit and humor. In which class would you place
the works of Chaucer, Bernard Shaw, Swift, Thackeray, Charles Lamb,
Wilde, Goldsmith, and Shakespeare? Give reasons for your classification.

14. In what respects is Burns a national poet? Try to explain why in
this respect he is unique in British literature.

15. It has been said that Shakespeare’s women characters are more
important in his comedies than they are in his tragedies. Quote the
examples of some of his plays in support of this statement, and try to
account for it.

16. Compare any one of Shakespeare’s comedies with one by Goldsmith or
Sheridan.

17. Trace the Celtic (Irish and Scottish) influence in English
literature. Can you account for the comparative poverty of the Welsh
influence in English?

18. Mention some of the great English nature-poets. What is their
outlook upon nature? What aspects of nature particularly appealed to
them? State your preference among the poets you mention, quote from his
works, and give reasons for your choice.

19. Discuss the statement that “Wycliff, Langland, and Chaucer are the
three great figures of English literature in the Middle Ages.” Would
you place any of their contemporaries along with them?

20. What is Chaucer’s attitude to chivalry and to the Church? Compare
his Knight (in _The Prologue_) with a similar character of Spenser
and Tennyson.

21. Give a historical account of the English essay (_a_) from its
origin to the death of Addison; (_b_) from the death of Addison to the
death of Charles Lamb; (_c_) from the time of Lamb to modern times.
Then give a brief summary of the history of the essay, indicating its
periods of progress and decay.

22. What are the chief merits of the literary essay? Mention some
English essayists who approach the ideal essay-manner.

23. Distinguish between the tale and the novel. Show how the one
developed into the other. Give some account of one medieval and one
modern prose tale-teller.

24. Mention five books of exploration and travel. Give a more detailed
account of the one that appeals most strongly to you. What are the
ideals to which in your opinion the travel-book ought to aspire?

25. Compare Milton’s _Samson Agonistes_ with any tragedy by
Shakespeare.

26. Account for the late appearance of historical literature, and
sketch its subsequent development.

27. In the light of your knowledge of the English lyric criticize
Shelley’s statement that “Our sweetest songs are those that tell of
saddest thought.”

28. Give an account of the verse-tale (_a_) from Chaucer to Dryden
and (_b_) from Crabbe to William Morris. What style and meter are
best adapted to the verse-tale? Illustrate by means of extracts.

29. Estimate the importance of journalism as an aid to literature;
give a short account of its rise; and add a note upon the literary
attainments of modern journalism.

30. What effect had the attitude of the Church upon the early drama?
Has the Church exerted any influence, good or bad, on any other kind of
literature?

31. Mention some of the earliest literary critics in English; and
continue with a brief history of literary criticism up to modern times.

32. Mention three important biographies in English. In what respects do
they conform to the ideal biography?

33. Consider the works of Dickens, Wordsworth (especially his sonnets),
Samuel Butler (1835–1902), Milton (both prose and verse), Gibbon,
Bunyan, and Shelley as political, religious, or social propaganda.
Write a general essay on the use and abuse of propaganda in works of
literature.

34. Estimate the value of the work of the female novelist and the
poetess. In which of these two departments of literature is woman’s
achievement the higher? Does the level of her accomplishment show any
signs of rising?

35. Discuss Charles Lamb, Meredith, Walter Pater, John Ruskin, and R.
L. Stevenson as prose stylists. Write an account of prose style during
the nineteenth century.

36. What are the qualities of good poetical satire? Trace the course of
the satire in English from Dryden to Byron.

37. Compare Scott and Byron as poetical tale-tellers, as lyrical
writers, and as men. Comment upon the history of their respective
reputations.

38. What is meant by an “ode”? What are the requirements of a good ode?
Mention the chief odes in English, from those of Spenser to those of
Tennyson.

39. Compare _Lycidas_, _Adonais_, and _The Scholar-Gipsy_ as elegies.
Add to this an account of other important English elegies, and sketch
the growth of this type of poem.

40. Give a short account of six heroines in standard English novels;
add an account of six heroines of poems; and conclude with a
description of six of Shakespeare’s heroines.

41. What was Scott’s contribution to the historical novel? How far has
the historical novel advanced since his death?

42. Mention some patriotic poems in English. What are the merits and
chief weaknesses of this particular kind of poetry?

43. In Irish and Scottish literature are there any literary
peculiarities that are essentially Irish and Scottish? Discuss the
general question of nationality in literature.

44. Taking Lamb, Scott, George Eliot, Charlotte Brontë, and Junius as
the chief examples, consider the use of the _nom de plume_ or
of anonymity in literature. To what extent is anonymity a feature of
modern journalism?

45. What novels dealing with life in India or British colonial life are
known to you? Have they any features in common?

46. Has the spread of modern education affected the standard of
literature? What species of literature has it encouraged, and which has
it depressed?

47. Discuss the statement that “the English epic began and ended with
Milton.” Trace the course of the epic in English.

48. Justify the statement that “English poetry is full of the color and
odor of the sea.” Who are the chief sea-poets in English?

49. Is the cinematograph likely to affect the literature of the future?
Is it likely to affect in any way the literature of the past?

50. (_a_) Write a paragraph of description and criticism upon each
of the following works:

_Gulliver’s Travels_, _Sesame and Lilies_, _The Fortunes of Nigel_,
_Doctor Faustus_, _Ancren Riwle_, _Henry Esmond_, _The Nigger of the
Narcissus_, _Absalom and Achitophel_, _Euphues and his England_,
_The Faithful Shepherdess_, _Locksley Hall_, _Jude the Obscure_,
_Il Penseroso_, _The Pickwick Papers_, _Abt Vogler_, _Urne Buriall_,
_Northanger Abbey_, _The Blessed Damozel_, _To a Mouse_, _The Vanity
of Human Wishes_, _The Egoist_, _Paradise Regained_, _Satires of
Circumstance_, _The Woman in White_, _Lady Windermere’s Fan_, _The
Dance of the Sevin Deidlie Sins_, _Old Mortality_, _Tono-Bungay_,
_Plays for Puritans_.

(_b_) Write a paragraph on each of the following characters. Mention
the work in which each appears, and write a critical estimate:

Jeanie Deans, Prospero, Sir Charles Grandison, Michael Fane, Delilah,
Sir Galahad, Mr. Collins, Jos Sedley, Mrs. Proudie, Falstaff, Roderick
Random, Major Barbara, Enoch Arden, Mr. Worldly Wiseman, Arthur Kipps,
Maggie Tulliver, Sir Andrew Aguecheek, Childe Harold, Hilda Lessways,
Marmion, Angel Clare, Archimago, Sairey Gamp, Alan Breck, Peter Pan,
Dr. Primrose, Amyas Leigh, the Wife of Bath, Mrs. Battle, Lord Jim.

(_c_) Mention works in which the following types or professions are
depicted. Estimate the degree of success attained in each character.

Miser; hypocrite; jester; soldier of fortune; adventuress;
undergraduate; surgeon; country parson; detective; Puritan;
peasant-farmer; artist; cook; innkeeper; magician; statesman; religious
fanatic; garrulous woman; dominie; shepherd; dunce; usurer; boaster;
murderer; fisherman; tramp; carpenter; naval officer; conspirator;
antiquary.

APPENDIX I

GENERAL TABLES

(1) Authors’ names appear in roman type; the titles of books are
given in _italics_.

(2) Every author and book that is mentioned in the tables has
already found a place earlier in this history. Reference to the
index at the end will lead to further information.

(3) The chief use of each table is to provide a clear view of
some aspect of English literature. To effect this a certain
amount of =rigidity= is unavoidable in the classification.
The reader should clearly understand that a greater elasticity
of opinion is possible than appears in the tables. Caution,
therefore, is necessary in the use of them.

I. PROSE FORMS

II. THE NOVEL

III. THE ESSAY

IV. PROSE STYLE

N.B.--_In this table the classification is often only approximate._

V. THE DRAMA

N.B.--_Some cross-classification is unavoidable in this table._

VI. POETICAL FORMS

VII. MISCELLANEOUS FORMS (PROSE AND POETRY)

VIII. CHIEF METRICAL FORMS: PART I

IX. CHIEF METRICAL FORMS: PART II

APPENDIX II

BIBLIOGRAPHY

I. GENERAL WORKS

_The Cambridge History of English Literature._
_A Short History of English Literature_, G. Saintsbury.
_Cyclopædia of English Literature._
_A History of English Poetry_, W. J. Courthope.
_A History of English Prosody_, G. Saintsbury.
_History of English Dramatic Literature_, Sir A. W. Ward.
_Chronicle of the English Drama_, F. G. Fleay.
_The English Novel_, Sir W. Raleigh.
_The English Novel_, G. Saintsbury.
_English and Scottish Popular Ballads_, F. J. Child.
_Scottish Vernacular Literature_, A. Henderson.
_Early English Literature_, Stopford A. Brooke.
_Early English Literature_, B. ten Brink.
_English Literature from the Norman Conquest to Chaucer_,
W. H. Schofield.
_The Transition Period_, G. Gregory Smith.
_Elizabethan Literature_, G. Saintsbury.
_History of Eighteenth-Century Literature_, E. Gosse.
_The Age of Dryden_, R. Garnett.
_The Augustan Age_, O. Elton.
_Nineteenth-Century Literature_, G. Saintsbury.
_A Survey of English Literature, 1830–1880_, O. Elton.
_English Prose_ (extracts), H. Craik.
_English Poets_ (extracts), T. H. Ward.
_The Encyclopædia Britannica._
_Dictionary of National Biography._

II. BIOGRAPHY AND CRITICISM

NOTES.--1. _Abbreviations_:

_E._, “English Men of Letters.”
_S.W._, “Studies of Living Writers.”
_W.D._, “Writers of the Day.”
_P.B._, “The People’s Books.”

2. When the title of a book is not given it is identical with
the name of the writer being dealt with. For instance, the title
of Courthope’s work on Addison is _Joseph Addison_.

Addison, Joseph
_E._, W. J. Courthope.
See _English Humourists_, Thackeray, and _English Comic
Writers_, Hazlitt.

Arnold, Matthew
_E._, Herbert Paul.
See _Studies in Literature_, Sir A. T. Quiller-Couch.

Austen, Jane
_E._, F. W. Cornish.
S. F. Maldon.

Bacon, Francis
_E._, R. W. Church.
See _Essays_, Macaulay.
_P.B._, A. R. Skemp.

Bennett, Arnold
_W.D._, F. J. Harvey Dalton.
See _Some Impressions of my Elders_, St. John G. Ervine.

Brontë, Charlotte
_Charlotte Brontë and her Circle_, Clement K. Shorter.
_Life of_, Mrs. Gaskell.

Browne, Sir Thomas
_E._, E. Gosse.

Browning, Robert
_E._, G. K. Chesterton.
_P.B._, A. R. Skemp.
E. Gosse.
_Introduction to the Study of_, A. Symons.
_The Poetry of_, Stopford A. Brooke.
See _Obiter Dicta_, A. Birrell, and _Literary Studies_, W. Bagehot.

Bunyan, John
_E._, J. A. Froude.
_Life of_, W. Hale White.
See _The Art of Letters_, R. Lynd, and _Essays_, Macaulay.

Burke, Edmund
_E._, Lord Morley.
_Life of_, Sir J. Prior.
See _Obiter Dicta_, A. Birrell.

Burney, Fanny
_E._, A. Ainger.

Burns, Robert
_E._, Principal Shairp.
_Life of_, J. G. Lockhart.
_Primer of_, W. A. Craigie.
See _English Poets_, Hazlitt; _Essays_, Carlyle;
_Familiar Studies of Men and Books_, R. L. Stevenson;
_Essays_, W. E. Henley.

Butler, Samuel (1612–80)
See _English Comic Writers_, Hazlitt.

Butler, Samuel (1835–1902)
_Life of_, H. Festing Jones.
_Records and Memorials of_, R. A. Streatfield.

Byron, Lord
_Life of_, T. Moore.
_E._, John Nichol.
See _Essays_, Macaulay; _Essays_, W. E. Henley;
_English Poets_, Hazlitt.

Carlyle, Thomas
_E._, John Nichol.
_Life of_, J. A. Froude.
_P.B._, L. Maclean Watt.
See _Obiter Dicta_, A. Birrell, and _My Study Windows_, J. R.
Lowell.

Chaucer, Geoffrey
_E._, Sir A. Ward.
See _My Study Windows_, J. R. Lowell, and _Riches of_, C.
Cowden-Clarke.

Coleridge, S. T.
_E._, H. D. Traill.
_P.B._, S. L. Bensusan.
See _English Poets_, Hazlitt; _Essays and Studies_, A. C. Swinburne;
_Studies in Literature_, Sir A. T. Quiller-Couch; _The Art of
Letters_, R. Lynd.

Collins, William
See _Lives of the Poets_, Dr. Johnson, and _The Art of Letters_,
R. Lynd.

Congreve, William
_Life of_, E. Gosse.
See _Lives of the Poets_, Dr. Johnson; _English Comic Writers_,
Hazlitt; _Essays_, Macaulay; _English Humourists_, Thackeray.

Conrad, Joseph
_S.W._, R. Curle.
_W.D._, Hugh Walpole.
See _The Moderns_, J. Freeman.

Cowper, William
_E._, Goldwin Smith.
See _English Poets_, Hazlitt; _Literary Studies_, W. Bagehot;
_The Art of Letters_, R. Lynd.

Crabbe, George
_E._, A. Ainger.
T. H. Kebbel.

Defoe, Daniel
_E._, W. Minto.
See _British Novelists_, D. Masson, and _Hours in a Library_,
Sir Leslie Stephen.

De Quincey, Thomas
_E._, D. Masson.
See _Hours in a Library_, Sir Leslie Stephen.

Dickens, Charles
_Life of_, J. Forster.
G. K. Chesterton.
_E._, Sir A. W. Ward.
_P.B._, S. Dark.
See _Literary Studies_, W. Bagehot.

Donne, John
_Life and Letters of_, E. Gosse.
See _English Poets_, Hazlitt; _Studies in Literature_, Sir A. T.
Quiller-Couch; _The Art of Letters_, R. Lynd.

Dryden, John
_E._, G. Saintsbury.
See _Lives of the Poets_, Dr. Johnson, and _Essays_, Macaulay.

Eliot, George
_E._, Sir Leslie Stephen.
Oscar Browning.

Fielding, Henry
_E._, Austin Dobson.
See _English Humourists_, Thackeray, and _Essays_, W. E. Henley.

Galsworthy, John
_W.D._, Sheila Kaye-Smith.
See _Some Impressions of my Elders_, St. John G. Ervine.

Gibbon, Edward
_E._, J. C. Morrison.
See _Literary Studies_, W. Bagehot, and _Essays Political and
Biographical_, Sir Spencer Walpole.

Goldsmith, Oliver
_E._, W. Black.
Austin Dobson.
See _English Comic Writers_, Hazlitt, and _English Humourists_,
Thackeray.

Gray, Thomas
_E._, E. Gosse.
See _Essays in Criticism_, Matthew Arnold, and _The Art of
Letters_, R. Lynd.

Hardy, Thomas
_W.D._, H. Child.
_The Art of_, L. P. Johnson.
H. C. Duffin.
See _Studies in Literature_, Sir A. T. Quiller-Couch, and
_The Moderns_, J. Freeman.

Hazlitt, William
_E._, A. Birrell.
See _Essays_, W. E. Henley, and _Hours in a Library_, Sir Leslie
Stephen.

Johnson, Samuel
_Life of_, J. Boswell.
_E._, Sir Leslie Stephen.
See _Essays_, Macaulay, and _Obiter Dicta_, A. Birrell.

Jonson, Ben
_Life of_, J. A. Symonds.
_E._, G. Gregory Smith.
See _English Comic Writers_, Hazlitt.

Keats, John
_Life of_, Lord Houghton.
_Life of_, Sir Sidney Colvin.
_E._, Sir Sidney Colvin.
_P.B._, E. Thomas.
See _Essays_, F. Jeffrey; _Essays in Criticism_, Matthew Arnold;
_Four Poets_, Stopford A. Brooke.

Kipling, Rudyard
_Rudyard Kipling: A Criticism_, R. Le Gallienne.
_W. D._, J. Farmer.

Lamb, Charles
_Life of_, E. V. Lucas.
_E._, A. Ainger.
_P.B._, Flora Masson.
See _The Spirit of the Age_, Hazlitt, and _Obiter Dicta_, A.
Birrell.

Landor, W. S.
_E._, Sir Sidney Colvin.

Macaulay, Lord
_Life and Letters of_, Sir G. O. Trevelyan.
_E._, J. C. Morrison.
See _Literary Studies_, W. Bagehot; _Critical Miscellanies_, Lord
Morley; _Hours in a Library_, Sir Leslie Stephen.

Marlowe, Christopher
See _English Dramatic Poets_, C. Lamb, and _English Comic
Writers_, Hazlitt.

Meredith, George
_The Poetry and Philosophy of_, G. M. Trevelyan.
_Some Characteristics_, R. Le Gallienne.
See _Studies in Literature_, Sir A. T. Quiller-Couch; _The Art of
Letters_, R. Lynd; _Studies in Prose and Verse_, A. Symons.

Milton, John
_Life of_, D. Masson.
_E._, Mark Pattison.
Sir Walter Raleigh.
See _Essays_, Addison; _Lectures_, S. T. Coleridge; _Literary
Studies_, W. Bagehot; _Essays_, Macaulay; _Obiter Dicta_, A.
Birrell.

Morris, William
_Life and Letters of_, J. W. Mackail.
_E._, Alfred Noyes.
See _The Art of Letters_, R. Lynd, and _Studies in Prose
and Verse_, A. Symons.

Pope, Alexander
_E._, Sir Leslie Stephen.
See _Lives of the Poets_, Dr. Johnson; _My Study Windows_, J. R.
Lowell; _English Poets_, Hazlitt; _The English Humourists_,
Thackeray; _Obiter Dicta_, A. Birrell; _Hours in a Library_,
Sir Leslie Stephen.

Richardson, Samuel
_E._, Austin Dobson.
See _The English Comic Writers_, Hazlitt, and _Hours in a
Library_, Sir Leslie Stephen.

Rossetti, D. G.
_Record and Study of_, W. Sharp.
F. G. Stephen.
See _Essays and Studies_, A. C. Swinburne.

Ruskin, John
_E._, Frederic Harrison.
_Life of_, W. G. Collingwood.
_Studies in_, E. T. Cook.

Scott, Walter
_Life of_, J. G. Lockhart.
_E._, R. H. Hutton.
G. Saintsbury.
See _The Spirit of the Age_, Hazlitt; _Essays_, Carlyle; _Hours
in a Library_, Sir Leslie Stephen; _Literary Studies_, W.
Bagehot; _Four Poets_, Stopford A. Brooke.

Shakespeare, William
_Life of_, Sir Sidney Lee.
_E._, Sir Walter Raleigh.
_P. B._, C. Herford.
_Studies in_, J. C. Collins.
_Shakespearian Tragedy_, A. C. Bradley.
_Ten Plays of_, Stopford A. Brooke.
_Among my Books_, J. R. Lowell.
See _English Comic Writers_, Hazlitt; _Literary Studies_, W.
Bagehot; _Lectures on Dramatic Literature_, Hazlitt; _Essays
and Lectures on_, S. T. Coleridge; _Essays_, Carlyle;
_Shakespeare’s Mind and Art_, E. Dowden.

Shaw, George Bernard
_George Bernard Shaw: His Life and Works_, A. Henderson.
G. K. Chesterton.
_S.W._, J. McCabe.
See _The Moderns_, J. Freeman; _Dramatists of To-day_, E. E. Hale;
_Some Impressions of my Elders_, St. John G. Ervine.

Shelley, Percy Bysshe
_Life of_, E. Dowden.
_E._, J. A. Symonds.
_P.B._, Sydney Waterlow.
See _Essays_, D. Masson; _Essays_, R. H. Hutton; _Literary
Studies_, W. Bagehot; _The Art of Letters_, R. Lynd; _Four
Poets_, Stopford A. Brooke.

Smollett, Tobias
See _English Comic Writers_, Hazlitt; _English Humourists_,
Thackeray; _Essays_, W. E. Henley.

Southey, Robert
_E._, E. Dowden.
See _Essays_, Macaulay.

Spenser, Edmund
_E._, R. W. Church.
_Life of_, J. W. Hales.
See _English Poets_, Hazlitt, and _Essays_, Leigh Hunt.

Steele, Richard
See _English Humourists_, Thackeray, and _Studies in
English Literature_, Dennis.

Sterne, Laurence
_Life of_, P. Fitzgerald.
See _English Humourists_, Thackeray, and _Literary Studies_, W.
Bagehot.

Stevenson, R. L.
_Life of_, G. Balfour.
Sir Walter Raleigh.
See _Studies in Prose and Verse_, A. Symons.

Swift, Jonathan
_E._, Sir Leslie Stephen.
See _Lives of the Poets_, Dr. Johnson; _English Comic Writers_,
Hazlitt; _English Humourists_, Thackeray.

Swinburne, A. C.
See _Studies in Literature_, Sir A. T. Quiller-Couch, and
_Victorian Poets_, Stedman.

Taylor, Jeremy
_Life of_, R. Heber.
_E._, E. Gosse.
See _Lectures_, S. T. Coleridge.

Tennyson, Alfred
_Life of_, H. Tennyson.
_Life of_, A. C. Benson.
_E._, Sir Alfred Lyall.
_P.B._, A. Watson.
See _The Art of Letters_, R. Lynd; _Literary Studies_, W. Bagehot;
_Essays_, R. H. Hutton; _Essays_, P. Bayne; _Victorian Poets_,
Stedman.

Thackeray, W. M.
_Life of_, Merivale and Marzila.
_E._, Anthony Trollope.
See _Characters and Sketches_, Hannay, and _Literary Studies_, W.
Bagehot.

Thomson, James
_E._, G. C. Macaulay.
See _Lives of the Poets_, Dr. Johnson, and _English Poets_,
Hazlitt.

Wells, H. G.
_W.D._, J. D. Beresford.
See _The Moderns_, J. Freeman, and _Some Impressions of
my Elders_, St. John G. Ervine.

Wilde, Oscar
See _Studies in Prose and Verse_, A. Symons, and _The Art
of Letters_, R. Lynd.

Wordsworth, William
_Life of_, C. Knight.
_E._, T. W. H. Myers.
Sir Walter Raleigh.
_P.B._, Rosaline Masson.
See _English Poets_, Hazlitt; _Biographic Literaria_, S. T.
Coleridge; _Essays in Criticism_, Matthew Arnold; _Literary
Studies_, W. Bagehot; _Essays_, D. Masson; _Essays_, R. H.
Hutton; _Appreciations_, W. Pater; _Hours in a Library_, Sir
Leslie Stephen.

=III. ESSAYS ON LITERARY SUBJECTS.= A series of books of essays
arranged in order of composition. These volumes form the basis
of a history of English criticism.

Sidney, Sir Philip, _Apologie for Poetrie_.
Dryden, John, _Essay of Dramatic Poesie_.
Addison, Joseph, _Spectator_ essays.
Johnson, Dr., _Lives of the Poets_.
Coleridge, S. T., _Biographia Literaria_; _Essays and Lectures on
Shakespeare_.
Hazlitt, William, _Lectures on the English Poets_; _The English
Comic Writers_.
Lamb, Charles, _English Dramatic Poets_.
Hunt, Leigh, _Imagination and Fancy_.
Macaulay, Lord, _Essays_.
Thackeray, W. M., _The English Humourists_.
Arnold, Matthew, _Essays in Criticism_.
Hutton, R. H., _Essays_.
Bagehot, W., _Literary Studies_.
Swinburne, A. C., _Essays and Studies_.
Quiller-Couch, Sir A. T., _Studies in Literature_.
Stephen, Sir Leslie, _Hours in a Library_.
Henley, W. E., _Views and Reviews_; _Essays_.
Collins, J. Churton, _Essays and Studies_.
Gosse, E., _Seventeenth-Century Studies_; _Some Diversions of a
Man of Letters_.
Dobson, A., _Eighteenth-Century Studies_.
Saintsbury, G., _Corrected Impressions_.
Freeman, J., _The Moderns_.
Lynd, R., _The Art of Letters_.
Ervine, St. John G., _Some Impressions of my Elders_.

INDEX TO EXTRACTS

_Absalom and Achitophel_, 196, 227–228, 274

=Addison, Joseph=, 243, 246, 277

_Address to the Deil_, 359

_Address to Edinburgh_, 311

_Address to the King_ (Burke), 353

_Adonais_, 392, 449

=Ælfric=, 13–14

_Æneid_ (Surrey), 97, 150

=Alfred, King=, 9, 51

_All for Love_, 200

_Althea, To_, 185

_Alysoun_, 30

_Amoretti_, 152

_Anatomy of Melancholy, The_, 154

_Ancient Mariner, The Rime of the_, 378, 445

_Ancren Riwle_, 23

_Androcles and the Lion_, 543–544

_Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, The_, 10

_Antiquary, The_, 447

_Antony and Cleopatra_, 121, 122–123

_Areopagitica_, 163

=Arnold, Matthew=, 156, 229, 516

=Ascham, Roger=, 155

_Ask Me no More_, 172

_Asolando_, 463–464

_Astræa Redux_, 195

=Austen, Jane=, 420–421

_Autobiography_, Gibbon’s, 359

_Autumn, Ode to_ (Keats), 443

_Autumn_ (Shelley), 443

_Back to Methuselah_, 545–546

=Bacon, Francis=, 136–137

=Bale, John=, 85

_Ballad of East and West, The_, 574

_Ballad upon a Wedding, A_, 186

=Barbour, John=, 44

_Beaux’ Stratagem, The_, 225–226

_Bee, The_, 296, 347

=Behn, Aphra=, 221–222

_Beowulf_, 4–5

_Bible, the_, 83–84, 132, 133

_Biographia Literaria_, 368, 381, 443–444

_Black-eyed Susan_, 275

=Blake, William=, 314, 352–353, 566–567

_Blessed Damozel, The_, 515

_Blue Tit, The_, 565–566

=Boswell, James=, 329, 358–359

_Break, break, break_, 460

=Brooke, Rupert=, 555

=Browne, Sir Thomas=, 176

=Browne, William=, 125, 223

=Browning, Robert=, 462, 463, 464, 465, 466, 512, 514, 516, 563,
571

_Brus, The_, 44

_Brut_, 18, 29

=Bunyan, John=, 210–211, 225, 574

=Burke, Edmund=, 332, 353

=Burney, Frances=, 354

=Burns, Robert=, 309, 310, 311, 312, 359, 570

=Burton, Robert=, 154

=Butler, Samuel= (1612–80), 208–209

=Byron, Lord=, 383, 384, 385, 386, 387, 388, 446–447, 449

=Cædmon=, 12–13

_Caliban upon Setebos_, 465

_Caller Water_, 346

_Campaign, The_, 243

=Campion, Thomas=, 101

=Carew, Thomas=, 172

=Carlyle, Thomas=, 495–496, 513, 575

_Castaway, The_, 301

_Castle of Indolence, The_, 292–293

_Cato_, 277

=Caxton, William=, 67

_Cenci, The_, 392

=Chamberlayne, William=, 216

_Channel Firing_, 525–526

=Chaucer, Geoffrey=, 35, 37, 38, 39, 40

_Cherry Ripe_ (Campion), 101

=Chesterfield, Lord=, 342

_Chevy Chace_, 54–55

_Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage_, 385, 448

_Christabel_, 377

=Clare, John=, 565–566

_Cleannesse_, 31

=Cleveland, John=, 182, 185–186

_Clive, Essay on_, 498–499

=Clough, Arthur Hugh=, 515–516

=Cobbett, William=, 440

=Coleridge, Samuel Taylor=, 377, 378, 379, 380, 381, 443–444,
445–446

_Colin Clout_ (Skelton), 81–82

=Collins, William=, 352

_Complaint, The, or Night Thoughts_, 271, 278

_Compleat Angler, The_, 184

_Comus_, 186

_Confessio Amantis_, 53

_Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, The_, 430, 444

=Congreve, William=, 204, 567

=Conrad, Joseph=, 529, 530

=Coverdale, Miles=, 84

=Cowper, William=, 301, 343–344, 352

_Coy Mistress, To his_, 185

=Crabbe, George=, 356

=Crawford, Robert=, 276

_Cymon and Iphigenia_, 197–198

_Daffodils, To_ (Herrick), 222

_Dance of the Sevin Deidlie Sins, The_, 61

=Davies, William H.=, 553

=De Quincey, Thomas=, 430, 444

_Dead Drummer, The_, 521

_Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, The_, 327, 564

=Defoe, Daniel=, 250–251, 272, 277

=Dekker, Thomas=, 150

_Deluge, The_, 84–85

_Deserted Village, The_, 295, 356

_Diary_, Pepys’, 213

=Dickens, Charles=, 477

_Dictionary_, Johnson’s, 349

_Doctor Faustus_, 153–154

_Don Juan_, 386–387, 449

=Donne, John=, 103, 184

_Dramatic Poesie, The Essay of_, 202

_Dreams of the Sea_, 553

=Drummond, William=, 224

=Dryden, John=, 185, 194, 195, 196, 198, 199, 200, 202, 214, 217,
222–223, 227–228, 274

=Dunbar, William=, 61

_Dunciad, The_, 258

_Ecclesiastical Polity, The Laws of_, 152–153

_Education of Nature, The_, 374–375

_Egoist, The_, 484

_Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog_, 573

_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers_, 383

_English Comic Writers, The_, 432

_Enoch Arden_, 457

_Epicene_, 149

_Epistle to Arbuthnot_, 259, 274

_Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke_, 125

_Epithalamion_, 92

_Essay on Clive_, 498–499

_Essay on Criticism, An_, 256, 261

_Essay of Dramatic Poesie, The_, 202

_Essay concerning Human Understanding, An_, 219–221

_Essay on Johnson_, 360

_Essays_, Bacon’s, 136–137

_Essays of Elia, The_, 428, 444

_Euphues and his England_, 138–139, 154, 563

_Eve of St. Agnes, The_, 398–399, 446, 569

_Eve of St Mark, The_, 400

_Evelina_, 354

_Everyman_, 75

_Examiner, The_ (Tory periodical), 279

_Fables_ (Dryden), 222–223

_Faerie Queene, The_, 95, 155–156

=Farquhar, George=, 225–226

_Ferdinand, Count Fathom_, 360

=Fergusson, Robert=, 346

=Fielding, Henry=, 318, 320–321, 354–355

=Fisher, John=, 68, 80

_Flaming Heart, The_, 174

=Flecker, James Elroy=, 569–570

_Fra Lippo Lippi_, 512

_French Revolution, The_, 513

_Frost at Midnight_, 379

_Funeral Sermon on Henry VII_ (Fisher), 80

=Galsworthy, John=, 568–569

_Garden Fancies_, 465

=Gascoigne, George=, 151

=Gay, John=, 275

=Gibbon, Edward=, 327, 358–359, 564

_God’s Promises_, 85

=Godric=, 24

_Golden Journey to Samarkand, The_, 569–570

_Golden Wings_, 514

=Goldsmith, Oliver=, 295, 296, 347, 356, 573–574

=Gower, John=, 53

=Gray, Thomas=, 188, 345

_Grecian Urn, Ode on a_, 402

=Greene, Robert=, 142–143

_Groatsworth of Wit, A_, 142–143

_Gulliver’s Travels_, 241, 277

_Halbert and Hob_, 571

_Hamlet_, 118, 121

_Handlyng Synne_, 30–31

=Hardy, Thomas=, 521, 522, 524, 525, 526, 571

_Havelock the Dane_, 30

=Hazlitt, William=, 432

_Heaven_, 554

_Henry Esmond_, 581

=Henryson, Robert=, 60

_Heroic Stanzas_ (Dryden), 194, 195

=Herrick, Robert=, 222

_Hind and the Panther, The_, 217

_History of England, The_ (Hume), 350–351

_History of England, The_ (Macaulay), 513

_Holy Sonnetts_, 103

_Holy Willie’s Prayer_, 310

=Hooker, Richard=, 152–153

_Hous of Fame, The_, 39

=Howard, Henry, Earl of Surrey=, 97, 150, 151

_Hudibras_, 208–209

_Human Understanding, An Essay concerning_, 219–221

=Hume, David=, 350–351

=Hunt, Leigh=, 445

_Hydriotaphia_, 176

_Hyperion_, 399

_Iliad_ (Pope), 256

_In the Cemetery_, 522

_In Memoriam_, 459

_Induction, The_, 98

_Intimations of Immortality_, 372, 374

_Isabella_, 401

=James I of Scotland=, 59, 81

=John of Trevisa=, 52

_Jonathan Wild the Great_, 318

=Johnson, Samuel=, 288, 289, 290, 349–350, 355, 357, 575

_Johnson, Life of_ (Boswell), 329, 359

_Johnson, Essay on_ (Macaulay), 360

=Jonson, Ben=, 125, 149

_Journal of the Plague Year, A_, 272, 276

=Keats, John=, 398, 399, 400, 401, 402, 446, 569

_Killigrew, On the Death of Mrs. Anne_, 214

_King Arthur’s Tomb_, 512–513

_King Lear_, 120, 157

_King of Tars, The_, 25

_Kingis Quhair, The_, 59, 81

=Kipling, Rudyard=, 564–565, 574

_Knight’s Tale, The_, 38

_Knight’s Tomb, The_, 379

_Kynge Johan_, 85

_Lady of the Lake, The_, 446

=Lamb, Charles=, 428, 444–445

_Lamia_, 400

=Langland, William=, 43, 53

=Latimer, Hugh=, 81

_Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, The_, 152–153

_Layamon_, 18, 29

_Letter to his Wife_ (More), 80

_Letters to his Son_ (Chesterfield), 342

_Letters_, Cowper’s, 343–344

_Letters_, Leigh Hunt’s, 445

_Letters_, Johnson’s, 290, 357

_Letters_, Walpole’s, 358

_Life of Doctor Johnson, The_ (Boswell), 329, 358–359

_Life of John Sterling, The_, 496

_Lives of the Poets, The_, 350, 575

=Locke, John=, 219

_Lord Hastings, Upon the Death of_, 185, 228

_Love in Fantastic Triumph sate_, 221–222

_Love of King David and Fair Bethsabe, The_, 106

=Lovelace, Richard=, 185

_Lycidas_, 165

=Lyly, John=, 138, 154, 563–564

=Lyndsay, Sir David=, 82

=Macaulay, Lord=, 359, 498–499, 513

=Macpherson, James=, 349

=Malory, Sir Thomas=, 46–47, 52

=Mandeville, Sir John=, 45, 51–52, 153

=Marlowe, Christopher=, 109, 153–154

_Marmion_, 412–413

=Marvell, Andrew=, 185

_Masque of Anarchy, The_, 392

_Measure for Measure_, 121, 122

_Melibæus, The Tale of_, 37

_Merchant of Venice, The_, 157

=Meredith, George=, 484

_Midsummer Night’s Dream, A_, 120

=Milton, John=, 163, 165, 166, 167, 168, 186, 187, 562

_Milton_ (Ernest Myers), 188–189

_Modern Painters_, 513–514

_Moral Ode_, 29

=More, Sir Thomas=, 80

=Morris, William=, 512–513, 514

_Morte d’Arthur_ (Malory), 46–47, 52

_Moti Guj--Mutineer_, 564–565

_My First Play_ (Lamb), 428

=Myers, Ernest=, 188–189

_Natural History of Selborne, The_, 355

_Nigger of the Narcissus, The_, 529–530

_Night Thoughts_, 271, 278

_Noctes Ambrosianæ_, 441

=North, Christopher=, 441

_Northanger Abbey_, 420–421

_Nun’s Priest’s Tale, The_, 40

_O, My Luve is like a Red, Red Rose_, 309–310

_O, Willie brewed a Peck o’ Maut_, 309

_Ode: Intimations of Immortality_, 373–374

_Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College_, 345

_Ode on a Grecian Urn_, 402

_Ode to the West Wind_, 393

_Oh, to be in England_, 516

_Old Curiosity Shop, The_, 477

_Old Mortality_, 440–441

_On his Own Death_ (Swift), 237

_On the Death of Mrs. Anne Killigrew_, 214

_On Phillis_, 182

_On Prayer_ (Jeremy Taylor), 187

_Ormulum_, 20

_Orphan, The_, 217–218

_Ossian_, 349

=Otway, Thomas=, 217–218, 226

_Pacchiarotto_, 464

_Paracelsus_, 462

_Paradise Lost_, 144, 161, 562

_Passions, The_ (Collins), 352

_Pastoral Care_, 9, 51

_Pastorals_ (Pope), 255

_Pearl_, 149–150

=Peele, George=, 106

=Pepys, Samuel=, 213

=Philips, Ambrose=, 271

_Phœnix, The_, 13, 29

_Pickwick Papers, The_, 477

_Picture of Dorian Gray, The_, 565

_Pied Piper of Hamelin, The_, 514

_Piers Plowman_, 43, 53–54

_Pilgrim’s Progress, The_, 210–211, 225, 574–575

_Pine Forest, The_, 395

_Pippa Passes_, 466

_Places_, 522–523

=Pope, Alexander=, 224, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 274, 351

_Praise of Chimney-sweepers, The_, 444–445

_Prelude, The_, 562

_Princess, The_, 458

_Proclamation of Henry III_, 51

_Progress of Poesy, The_, 188

Psalms, the Book of, 133

_Purple Pileus, The_, 535

_Queen Mab_, 390

_Ralph Roister Doister_, 78, 85–86

_Rambler, The_, 289–290

_Rape of the Lock, The_, 257–258, 351

_Rarely, rarely, comest Thou_, 394

_Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye, The_, 67

_Reflections on the French Revolution_, 332

_Rejected Addresses_, 410

_Rescue, The_, 529

_Resolution and Independence_, 372

_Rhapsody on Poetry_, 278

_Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The_, 378, 445

_Ring and the Book, The_, 465, 563

=Robert of Gloucester=, 25

_Robinson Crusoe_, 250

_Roderick Random_, 346

_Rokeby_, 413–414

=Rossetti, Dante Gabriel=, 515

_Rural Rides in England_, 440

=Ruskin, John=, 501, 513–514

=Sackville, Thomas, Earl of Dorset=, 98

St. Luke, the Gospel of, 132

_Samson Agonistes_, 167

_Sappho_ (A. Philips), 271

_Sartor Resartus_, 495

=Sassoon, Siegfried=, 571–572

_Satires of Circumstance_, 571

_Satyre of the Thrie Estatis, Ane Pleasant_, 82–83

_Say not the Struggle Naught Availeth_, 515

_Scholemaster, The_, 155

_School for Scandal, The_, 567–568

_Schoolmistress, The_, 351–352

=Scott, Sir Walter=, 412, 413, 414, 417–418, 446, 447–448

=Sedley, Sir Charles=, 218

_Sensitive Plant, The_, 395

_Sermons_, Latimer’s, 81

=Shakespeare, William=, 113, 118, 120, 121, 122, 151, 157, 569

_Shakespeare_ (Matthew Arnold), 156

=Shaw, George Bernard=, 543–544, 545–546

=Shelley, Percy Bysshe=, 390, 392, 393, 394, 395, 443, 449

=Shenstone, William=, 351–352

=Sheridan, Richard Brinsley=, 567–568

_Simon Lee_, 374, 566

=Skelton, John=, 63, 81–82

_Skin Game, The_, 568–569

_Sleeping Beauty, The_ (Tennyson), 459

=Smart, Christopher=, 304

=Smith, Horace=, 410

=Smith, James=, 410

=Smollett, Tobias=, 346, 360

_Song to David, The_, 304

_Songs of Experience_, 314

_Songs of Innocence_, 352~353, 566–567

_Songbooks of the War_, 571–572

=Sonnet=, by Matthew Arnold, 156;
by Drayton, 152;
by Ernest Myers, 188–189;
by Shakespeare (cvi and cxvi), 113;
by Spenser, 152;
by Surrey, 151;
by Wordsworth, 188

_Spectator, The_, 246, 277

=Spenser, Edmund=, 92, 95, 155–156

_Steel Glass, The_, 151

=Steele, Sir Richard=, 218

=Sterne, Laurence=, 323, 360

=Stevenson, Robert Louis=, 510

_Stones of Venice, The_, 501

_Strew on her Roses, Roses_, 516

=Suckling, Sir John=, 186

_Sumer is i-cumen in_, 26

=Surrey, Earl of=, 97, 150, 151

_Sweet Content_, 150

_Sweet Lullaby, A_, 155

=Swift, Jonathan=, 237, 239, 241, 277, 279

=Synge, J. M.=, 568

_Tale of Melibæus, The_, 37

_Tale of a Tub, The_, 239

_Talisman, The_, 447–448

_Tam o’ Shanter_, 570

_Tamburlaine the Great_, 109

_Task, The_, 352

_Tatler, The_, 248

=Taylor, Jeremy=, 187

_Tempest, The_, 122, 151, 569

=Tennyson, Lord=, 457, 458, 459, 460, 512

_Tess of the d’Urbervilles_, 526

_Testament of Cresseid, The_, 60

=Thackeray, William Makepeace=, 481–482

=Thomson, James= (1700–48), 292

_Three Maries, The_, 73–74

_Thrie Estatis, Satyre of the_, 82

_Tinker’s Wedding, The_, 568

_Tintern Abbey_, 448

_To Althea_, 185

_To Autumn_ (Keats), 443

_To his Coy Mistress_, 185

_To Daffodils_ (Herrick), 222

_To Mary in Heaven_, 309

_To Milton_ (Wordsworth), 188

_To Spring_ (Surrey), 151

_Tom Jones_, 320, 354

_Tono-Bungay_, 534–535

_Travels_ (Mandeville), 45, 51–52, 153

_Tristram Shandy_, 323, 360

_Triumph, The_, 125

_Troilus and Cressida_ (Chaucer), 35

_Twelfth Night_, 121

=Tyndale, William=, 83–84

=Udall, Nicholas=, 78, 85–86

_Ulysses_ (Tennyson), 512

_Upon the Death of the Lord Hastings_, 185, 228

_Valediction forbidding Mourning, A_, 184

_Vanity of Human Wishes, The_, 288, 355–356

_Venice Preserved_, 226

_Village, The_, 356

_Vision of Judgment, The_, 446–447

=Waller, Edmund=, 217, 224

=Walpole, Horace=, 358

=Walton, Isaac=, 184

_Waverley_, 417

_Way of the World, The_, 204, 566

_Ways to Perfect Religion, The_, 68

_Wedding, A Ballad upon a_, 186

_Weir of Hermiston_, 510

=Wells, H. G.=, 534–535

_West Wind, Ode to the_, 393

_When I am Old_, 553

=White, Gilbert=, 355

_Why come ye not to Court?_, 63–64

=Wilde, Oscar=, 565

=Wilson, John=, 441

_Winter Night, A_, 312

=Wordsworth, William=, 188, 371, 372, 373, 374, 375, 448, 562, 566

=Wyclif, John=, 83

=Young, Edward=, 271, 278

GENERAL INDEX

The pages on which authors are more particularly dealt with are given
in =black type=.

_A Man’s a Man for a’ That_, 310

_A Weary Lot is Thine_, 413

_Abbot, The_, 415

_Abou Ben Adhem_, 406

_Absalom and Achitophel_, 195, 215, 227, 274

_Absentee, The_, 421

_Acis and Galatea_, 262

_Adam Bede_, 488

_Adam Blair_, 434

=Addison, Joseph=, 169, 219, =242=, 259, 267, 269, 270, 272, 276,
277, 339, 347, 431, 439, 558

_Address to the Deil_, 359

_Address to Edinburgh_, 311

_Address to the King_ (Burke), 353

_Admirable Crichton, The_, 548

_Adonais_, 392, 449

_Advancement of Learning, The_, 135

_Adventurer, The_, 344

_Adventures of Harry Richmond, The_, 483

_Adventures of Philip, The_, 480

_Advice to a Daughter_, 211

_Ae Fond Kiss_, 308

=Ælfric=, =9=, 13–14, 71

_Æneid_ (Douglas), 62

_Æneid_ (Surrey), 97, 150

_After Dark_, 488

_Afton Water_, 308

_Agnes Grey_, 486

_Aids to Reflection_, 381

=Ainsworth, William Harrison=, =422=, 438

_Airly Beacon_, 490

=Akenside, Mark=, =303=

_Alarum to the Counties of England and Wales, An_, 178

_Alastor_, 390

_Alchemist, The_, 124

_Alcibiades_, 206

_Alciphron_, 252, 270

_Alexander’s Feast_, 198

=Alfred, King=, =8=, =14=, 18, 50, 61

_Alfred_ (Thomson), 293

_Alfred, The Proverbs of_, 20

_Alice in Wonderland_, 548

_All Fools_, 127

_All for Love_, 200, 215

_All the Year Round_, 474, 475, 558

_All’s Well that Ends Well_, 116

_Allegory, the_, 48, 69, 93

_Allegro, L’_, 164, 180

Alliteration, 5, 43, 49

_Alma_, 262

_Almayer’s Folly_, 527

_Alphonsus, King of Arragon_, 106

_Alroy_, 425

_Althea, To_, 173, 185

_Alton Locke_, 489

_Alysoun_, 26, 30

_Amazing Marriage, The_, 484

_Amelia_, 319

_America, The History of_, 328

_American Notes_, 475

_Amis and Amiloun_, 22

_Amoretti_, 91, 152

_Amours de Voyage_, 469

_Anatomy of Melancholy, The_, 140, 146, 154, 175, 400

_Anatomy of the World, An_, 102

_Ancient Mariner, The Rime of the_, 376–377, 378, 446

_Ancren Riwle_, 17, 23

_Andreas_, 3

_Androcles and the Lion_, 542, 543–544

Anglo-French language, in medieval England, 15

_Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, The_, 10, 11

_Ann Veronica_, 532

_Anna of the Five Towns_, 538

_Annals of the Parish, The_, 422

_Annus Mirabilis_, 194

_Anthea, To_, 170

_Antiquary, The_, 415, 447

_Antonio and Mellida_, 128

_Antonio’s Revenge_, 128

_Antony and Cleopatra_, 117, 119, 121, 123

_Apologie for Poetrie, An_, 90, 269

_Apophthegms_ (Bacon), 135

_Appius and Virginia_ (early tragedy), 77

_Appius and Virginia_ (Webster), 129

_Appreciations_, 502

_Araygnement of Paris, The_, 105

=Arbuthnot, John=, =251=

_Arcadia_, 146, 337

_Areopagitica_, 163–164

_Arms and the Man_, 541

=Arnold, Matthew=, 156, 229, 370, 453, =467=, 509, 516, 560

_Arrow of Gold, The_, 528

_Art of Political Lying, The_, 251

_Arthur and Merlin_, 22

_As You Like It_, 116

=Ascham, Roger=, =137=, 155

_Ask me No More_, 172

_Asolando_, 463

_Astræa Redux_, 195

_Astrophel and Stella_, 99

_Atalanta in Calydon_, 471

_Atheist’s Tragedy, The_, 129

_Auld Lang Syne_, 311

_Auld Licht Idylls_, 547

_Aurengzebe_, 199

_Aurora Leigh_, 467

=Austen, Jane=, 325, =418=, 438, 440

Authorized Version, the, 72, 130

_Autobiography_ (Gibbon), 326, 359

_Autobiography_ (Leigh Hunt), 406

_Autumn, Ode to_ (Keats), 401, 443

_Autumn_ (Shelley), 443

_Ayenbite of Inwyt_, 23

_Ayrshire Legatees, The_, 422

_Back to Methuselah_, 542, 545

=Bacon, Francis=, =134=, 147, 269

_Bad Child’s Book of Beasts, A_, 549

=Baillie, Joanna=, =336=

_Balaustion’s Adventure_, 463

=Bale, John=, 85

Ballad, the, 47, 70, 335

_Ballad of Bouillabaisse, The_, 480

_Ballad of East and West, The_, 574

_Ballad upon a Wedding, A_, 173, 186

_Ballads and Poems_ (Meredith), 482

_Ballads of Policeman X, The_, 480

_Ballads and Sonnets_ (D. G. Rossetti), 469

Ballantyne, James, 411

Ballantyne, John, 411

_Baltic, The Battle of the_, 405

=Barbour, John=, 33, =44=

_Barchester Towers_, 487

=Barclay, Alexander=, =65=, 69

_Bard, The_, 298, 335

=Barker, Granville=, 559

_Barnaby Rudge_, 475

_Barons’ Wars, The_, 100

=Barrie, Sir James=, =547=

=Barrow, Isaac=, 181

_Barry Lyndon_, 479

_Bartholomew Fair_, 124

_Bastard, The_, 263

_Battle of the Baltic, The_, 405

_Battle of Blenheim, The_, 403

_Battle of the Books, The_, 238

_Battle of Brunanburgh, The_, 6

_Battle of Hastings, The_, 314

_Battle of Maldon, The_, 6, 11

_Battle-song_ (Ebenezer Elliott), 408

=Baxter, Richard=, =181=

_Beauchamp’s Career_, 483

=Beaumont, Francis=, =126=

_Beaux’ Stratagem, The_, 205, 215, 225–226

_Becket_ (Tennyson), 458

=Beckford, William=, =324=

=Bede=, 7, 8, 9

_Bee, The_, 296, 344, 347

_Beggar’s Opera, The_, 262, 266, 267

=Behn, Aphra=, 222, =339=

_Belle Dame sans Merci, La_, 401, 402

=Belloc, Hilaire=, =549=

=Bennett, Arnold=, =538=

Bentley, Richard, 256

_Beowulf_, 2, 4, 11, 12, 179

_Beppo_, 385

=Berkeley, George=, =252=, 270, 509

=Berners, Lord=, 70

=Besant, Walter=, =490=

_Bestiary, The_, 20

_Betrothed, The_, 415

_Bevis of Hampton_, 22

Bible, the, 70, 83, 130;
Authorized Version, 130;
the Bishops’, 72;
the Geneva (“Breeches,”), 72;
the Great, 72, 84;
other early translations of, 71, 83

_Bible in Spain, The_, 490

_Biographia Literaria_, 368, 380, 443–444

_Black Arrow, The_, 491

_Black Dwarf, The_, 415

_Black-eyed Susan_, 262, 275

=Blackmore, Sir Richard= (1650–1729), =264=, 266

=Blackmore, Richard D.= (1825–1900), =491=

_Blackwood’s Magazine_, 365, 397, 424, 429, 434, 467, 488, 558

=Blair, Robert=, =305=

=Blake, William=, =314=, 334, 345, 353, 556–557

Blank verse, 97, 183, 271, 437, 456

_Bleak House_, 475

_Blenheim, The Battle of_, 403

_Blessed Damozel, The_, 469, 515

_Blind Beggar, The_, 127

_Blow, bugle, blow_, 459

_Blue Tit, The_, 566

“Bobbed” lines in Old English poetry, 25

Boëthius, 8, 60

_Boke named the Governour, The_, 70

=Bolingbroke, Lord=, =251=, 270

_Book of Faith, The_, 66

_Book of Snobs, The_, 478

_Booke of Ayres, A_, 100

_Books, The Battle of the_, 238

_Boon_, 532

_Borderers, The_, 369, 371, 437

_Borough, The_, 302

=Borrow, George=, =490=

=Boswell, James=, 287, 296, =328=, 343, 359, 439

_Bothie of Tober-na-Vuolich, The_, 469

_Bothwell_, 472

_Bowge of Court, The_, 63

=Boyle, Roger=, 339

Brawne, Fanny, 397

_Brazil, The History of_, 403

_Break, break, break_, 460

_Bridal of Triermain, The_, 413

_Bride of Abydos, The_, 384

_Bride of Lammermoor, The_, 415

_Bridge of Sighs, The_ (Hood), 409

=Bridges, Dr. Robert=, 560

_Bristowe Tragedy, The_, 335

_Britannia’s Pastorals_, 144

=Brontë, Anne=, 485

=Brontë, Charlotte=, =485=, 508

=Brontë, Emily=, =485=

_Brook, The_, 460

=Brooke, Rupert=, =554=

Brown, Dr. John, 433

=Browne, Sir Thomas=, =174=, 181, 219, 427, 509

=Browne, William=, 125, 144, 223

_Brownie of Bodsbeck, The_, 407

=Browning, Elizabeth Barrett=, 461, =466=

=Browning, Robert=, 367, 453, =461=, 506, 507, 509, 512, 514, 516,
563, 571

_Brunanburgh, The Battle of_, 6

_Brus, The_, 44

_Brut_, 17–18, 24, 29

=Buckhurst, Lord (Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset)=, 77, =98=, 144

_Bull, The_, 560

=Bulwer-Lytton, Edward=, =425=, 438

=Bunyan, John=, 42, 65, =209=, 216, 224–225, 339, 574

=Burke, Edmund=, 283, 286, =330=, 344, 347, 353, 365

_Burke_, 550

=Burnet, Gilbert=, 221

=Burney, Frances=, =325=, 354

=Burns, Robert=, 265, =305=, 334, 335, 345, 359, 371, 404, 570

=Burton, Robert=, =140=, 146, 154–155, 175, 400, 509

_Bury Fair_, 205

_Bussy d’Ambois_, 127

=Butler, Samuel= (1612–80), =207=

=Butler, Samuel= (1835–1902), =492=

=Byron, Lord=, 364, 366, 378, =382=, 404, 414, 436, 439, 446–447,
448

_Byron, The Life of_, 405, 439

_Cadenus and Vanessa_, 237

=Cædmon=, 2, 3, =6=, 12–13

_Cæsar_ (Froude), 503

_Cæsar and Cleopatra_, 542

_Cain_, 387

_Cakes and Ale_, 558

_Caleb Williams_, 334

_Caliban upon Setebos_, 465

_Caligula_, 207

_Caller Water_, 346

_Cambises, King of Percia_, 77

_Campaign, The_, 242

=Campbell, Thomas=, =405=

=Campion, Thomas=, =100=, 143, 147

_Candida_, 541, 543

_Canterbury Tales, The_, 35, 48

_Cap and Bells, The_, 401

=Capgrave, John=, 70

_Captain Popanilla, The Voyage of_, 425

_Captain Singleton_, 250, 339

=Captives, The=, 129

_Card, The_, 538

=Carew, Thomas=, =172=, 181

=Carlyle, Thomas=, 438, 453, =493=, 508, 510, 513, 575

_Carnival_, 539

Carols, 47, 70

_Casa Guidi Windows_, 467

_Cashel Byron’s Profession_, 540

_Castaway, The_, 301

_Castle Dangerous_, 415

_Castle of Health, The_, 70

_Castle of Indolence, The_, 292

_Castle of Otranto, The_, 323

_Castle Rackrent_, 421

_Cathleen ni Hoolihan_, 555

_Catiline his Conspiracy_, 125

_Cato_, 243, 267, 277

_Catriona_, 492

Cavalier poets, the, 161, 173

=Caxton, William=, 46, =66=

_Caxtons, The_, 426

_Cecilia_, 325

_Cenci, The_, 391, 395, 437

_Certain Bokes of Virgiles Æneis turned into English Meter_, 97,
150

_Certayne Ecloges_, 65

_Certayne Notes of Instruction concerning the Making of Verse in
English_, 99

=Chamberlayne, William=, 180, 216

_Chameleon, The_, 262

_Chance_, 528

_Change in the Cabinet, A_, 549

_Changeling, The_, 128

_Channel Firing_, 525–526

=Chapman, George=, =127=

_Character of a Trimmer, The_, 211

_Characters_ (Overbury), 139

_Characters of Shakespeare’s Plays, The_, 431

_Characteristics of Men, Manners, Opinions, and Times_, 253

_Charles V, The History of_, 328

_Charles, Duke of Byron_, 127

_Charles O’Malley_, 423

_Chartism_ (Carlyle), 494

_Chastelard_, 472

=Chatterton, Thomas=, =313=, 335, 345

=Chaucer, Geoffrey=, =33=, 197, 215, 285, 507

_Chaucer’s ABC_, 34

_Cherry Ripe_ (Campion), 101

_Cherry Ripe_ (Herrick), 170

=Chesterfield, Earl of=, =333=, 342

=Chesterton, G. K.=, =549=

_Chevy Chace_, 48, 54–55

_Child’s Garden of Verses, A_, 492

_Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage_, 383, 437, 448

_Chillianwallah_, 482

_Christ_, 7

_Christ’s Victorie and Triumph_, 102

_Christabel_, 377

Christabel metre, the, 377

_Christian Hero, The_, 270

_Christian Morals_, 175

_Christie Johnstone_, 486

_Christis Kirk on the Green_, 58

_Christmas Carol, A_, 475

_Chronicle, Anglo-Saxon_, 10, 11

_Chronicle of England, The_, 70

_Chronicle History of King Leir, The_, 77, 118

_Chronologia Sacra_, 141

_Church-History of Britain, The_, 178

=Churchill, Charles=, =304=

_Citizen of the World, The_, 296

_City Madam, The_, 174

_City of the Plague, The_, 434

_Civil Wars, The_, 104

=Clare, John=, =409=, 565–566

=Clarendon, Edward Hyde, Earl of=, =176=, 181, 218, 221, 341, 501

_Clarissa Harlowe_, 316

_Clayhanger_, 538

_Cleannesse_, 21, 31, 50

_Cleomenes_, 201

=Cleveland, John=, 181, 185–186

Clevelandisms, 182

_Clive, Essay on_, 497

_Cloister and the Hearth, The_, 486

=Clough, Arthur Hugh=, =468=, 515–516

_Club of Queer Trades, The_, 549

Clubs and coffee-houses, 234

=Cobbett, William=, 365, =435=, 440

=Coleridge, Samuel Taylor=, 363, 366, 368, 370, =375=, 429, 431,
436, 439, 443–444, 445–446, 496, 508

_Colin Clout_ (Skelton), 81

_Colin Clouts come Home againe_, 91

_Collected Poems_, W. H. Davies’, 552

_Collection of Original Trifles_, 409

=Collier, Jeremy=, 219

=Collins, Wilkie=, =487=

=Collins, William=, =299=, 335, 345, 352

_Colonel Jack_, 250, 339

_Columbus_, 406

Comedies, early, 77

_Comedy of Errors, The_, 116, 117

_Comic Annual, The_, 408

_Comical Revenge, The_, 205

_Coming Race, The_, 426

_Complaint, The, or Night Thoughts_, 263, 271, 278

_Complaint of Henry, Duke of Buckingham, The_, 98

_Complaint of Our Lady, The_, 64

_Complaint of Rosamund, The_, 104

_Compleat Angler, The_, 181, 184

_Compleynte of Chaucer to his Purse, The_, 36

_Compleynte of Faire Anelida, The_, 34

_Compleynte of Mars, The_, 34

_Compleynte unto Pité, The_, 34

_Comus_, 164, 186

_Confederacy, The_, 205

_Confessio Amantis_, 43, 50, 53

_Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, The_, 429, 430–431, 444

_Confessions of a Young Man, The_, 537

=Congreve, William=, =203=, 205, 215, 567

_Coningsby_, 425

_Connoisseur, The_, 344

_Conquest of England, The_, 504

_Conquest of Granada, The_ (Dryden), 199

=Conrad, Joseph=, =526=, 561

_Conscience_, 62

_Conscious Lovers, The_, 247

_Constable of the Tower, The_, 422

_Constantia and Philetus_, 169

_Contarini Fleming_, 425

_Conversion of Swerers, The_, 65

_Cooper’s Hill_, 180, 183

_Coriolanus_, 117

_Corn Law Rhymes_, 408

_Cornelia_, 108

_Cornhill Magazine, The_, 467, 480, 500, 558

_Corsair, The_, 384

_Cotter’s Saturday Night, The_, 307, 310, 312

_Count Basil_, 336

_Count Julian_, 403

_Count Robert of Paris_, 415

_Countess Cathleen, The_, 555

_Countess of Pembroke, Epitaph on the_, 125

_Country of the Blind, The_, 532, 534

_Country Wife, The_, 204, 215

_Court of Love, The_, 36

=Coverdale, Miles=, 71, 84

Coverley papers, the, 245, 339, 558

=Cowley, Abraham=, 160, =169=, 180, 216, 269

=Cowper, William=, =300=, 335, 343, 344, 345, 352, 364, 439

_Coy Mistress, To his_, 185

=Crabbe, George=, =302=, 335, 345, 356, 364, 408

=Cranmer, Thomas=, 70

=Crashaw, Richard=, =170=, 180

=Crawford, Robert=, 276

_Creation, The_, 265

_Crimean War, The History of the_, 504

_Cripps the Carrier_, 491

_Critic, The_, 336

_Criticism, An Essay on_, 255, 256, 261

_Cromwell, The Life of_, 550

_Crossing the Bar_, 460

_Crown of Wild Olive, The_, 500

=Crowne, John=, =207=

_Cruise of the Midge, The_, 424

_Cry of the Children, The_, 467

_Culture and Anarchy_, 468

_Cup, The_, 458

Curll, Edmund, 235

_Curse of Kehama, The_, 403

_Cursor Mundi_, 20

_Cymbeline_, 117

_Cymon and Iphigenia_, 197–198

=Cynewulf=, 2, =7=

_Cynthia’s Revels_, 124

_Cypress Grove, The_, 183

_Daffodils, To_ (Herrick), 222

_Daily Courant, The_, 268

_Daily News, The_, 474

_Daisy, The_, 551

_Dance of the Sevin Deidlie Sins, The_, 61

=Daniel, Samuel=, =103=, 143

_Daniel Deronda_, 488

=D’Arblay, Madame=, =325=

_Darnley_, 423

=Darwin, Charles=, 452, =505=

_Dauber_, 552

=Davenant, Sir William=, 180, 183

_David Copperfield_, 475

_Davideis, The_, 169, 179, 183

=Davies, William H.=, =552=, 559, 560

=Day, John=, 145

=De la Mare, Walter=, 560

_De Montfort_, 336

_De l’Orme_, 423

=De Quincey, Thomas=, =428=, 439, 441, 444, 558

_Dead Drummer, The_, 521

_Dead Secret, The_, 487

_Death of Œnone, The_, 458

_Death-bed, The_, 409

_Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, The_, 326, 341, 564

_Defence of Guenevere, The_, 470

_Defence of Poetry, The_, 394

=Defoe, Daniel=, =249=, 268, 270, 272, 277, 339, 557

_Deformed Transformed, The_, 387

_Deirdre of the Sorrows_, 548

_Dejection_, 378

=Dekker, Thomas=, =128=, 150, 174

_Delia_, 104, 143

_Deluge, The_, 84–85

_Demos_, 536

=Denham, Sir John=, 160, 180, 216

_Denis Duval_, 480

_Deor’s Complaint_, 6, 11

_Descent of Man, The_, 505

_Descriptive poetry_, 48, 144, 436, 506, 559

_Descriptive Sketches_ (Wordsworth), 268

_Deserted Village, The_, 265, 293, 294, 295, 335, 556

_Desperate Remedies_, 523

_Destruction of Troy, The_, 22

_Dethe of the Duchesse, The_, 34

_Devereux_, 425

_Devil is an Ass, The_, 124

_Devil’s Law Case, The_, 129

Dialects, Middle English, 16, 20;
Old English, 3

_Diall of Princes, The_, 141

_Dialogues of Hylas and Philonous_, 252

_Diana of the Crossways_, 484

_Diary_ (Evelyn), 213

_Diary_ (Pepys), 212–213

=Dickens, Charles=, 453, =472=, 487, 507, 508, 510, 534, 557, 558

_Dictes and Sayengis of the Philosophers, The_, 66

_Dictionary_, Johnson’s, 287, 289, 349–350

_Dido_, 107, 109

_Dipsychus_, 469

_Dirge on Edward IV_, 63

_Discourse concerning Oliver Cromwell_, 169

_Dispensary, The_, 263

=Disraeli, Benjamin=, =424=, 438

_Distant Prospect of Eton College, Ode on a_, 298

_Distressed Mother, The_, 264

_Divorce, On_ (Milton), 163

_Doctor Faustus_, 109, 153–154

_Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_, 491

_Doctor Thorne_, 487

_Doctor’s Dilemma, The_, 542

_Dombey and Son_, 475

_Don Carlos_, 206

_Don Juan_, 385, 437, 449

_Don Quixote_, 338

_Don Sebastian_, 201

=Donne, John=, =102=, 140, 143, 144, 172, 184–185

=Dorset, Thomas Sackville, Earl of= (1536–1608), =77=, =98=, 144.
See also Buckhurst, Lord.

=Dorset, Earl of= (1637–1706), 213

_Double Dealer, The_, 203

=Douglas, Gawain=, =62=, 79

_Douglas_ (Home), 336

_Dover Beach_, 468

=Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan=, 558

Drama, the, 72, 89, 144, 161, 180, 335, 437, 507, 558

_Drama in Muslin, A_, 537

_Dramatic Idylls_, 463

_Dramatic Lyrics_, 462

_Dramatic Monologues_, 463

_Dramatic Poesie, The Essay of_, 201, 269

_Dramatis Personæ_, 463

_Drapier’s Letters_, 240, 270, 343

=Drayton, Michael=, =100=, 144, 397

_Dream-Children_, 428

_Dream of Eugene Aram, The_, 409

_Dream of the Rood, The_, 7

_Dreams of the Sea_, 553

_Dreme, The_, 59

=Drinkwater, John=, =553=, 559

_Drummer, The_, 243

=Drummond, William=, 182, 224

_Dry Sticks_, 404

=Dryden, John=, 169, 185, =193=, 215, 217, 222, 228, 269, 273, 274,
305

_Dublin University Magazine, The_, 423

_Duchess of Malfy, The_, 129

_Duke of Milan, The_, 174

=Dunbar, William=, =61=, 70, 79

_Duncan Campbell_, 249

_Dunciad, The_, 235, 258, 264, 266

Dunton, John, 235

_Dynasts, The_, 521, 559

=Earle, John=, =140=, 269

_Earth and Animated Nature, The History of_, 297

_Earthly Paradise, The_, 470, 507

_Eastward Hoel_, 127

_Ecclesiastical Polity, The Laws of_, 139, 152–153

Eclogue, the, 69, 91

=Edgeworth, Maria=, =421=

_Edinburgh Review, The_, 365, 383, 432, 433, 497, 558

_Education, Of_ (Milton), 163

_Education of Nature, The_, 374–375

_Edward the First_, 105

_Edward II_, 109

_Edward III_, 116

_Edwin Drood, The Mystery of_, 475

_Egoist, The_, 483

_Elegy written in a Country Churchyard_, 298

_Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog_, 295, 573–574

_Elene_, 3, 7

_Elia, The Essays of_, 427, 444–445

=Eliot, George= (Mary Ann Evans), =488=, 508, 533

=Elliott, Ebenezer=, 363, =407=

=Elyot, Sir Thomas=, 70

_Emilia in England (Sandra Belloni)_, 483

_Emma_, 419

_Empedocles on Etna_, 467

_Empress of Morocco, The_, 207

_Encyclopædia Britannica, The_, 497

_Endimion and Phœbe_, 144

_Endymion_ (Keats), 397

_Endymion_ (Lyly), 105

_England, A History of_ (Froude), 503

_England, The History of_ (Goldsmith), 297

_England, A Constitutional History of_ (Hallam), 436

_England, The History of_ (Hume), 328, 341, 350–351

_England, The History of_ (Macaulay), 498, 513

_England’s Helicon_, 104

_England’s Heroical Epistles_, 100, 144

_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers_, 383

_English Comic Writers, The_, 432

_English Humourists, The_, 480

_English in Ireland, The_, 503

_English Mail-coach, The_, 429

_English Rogue, The_, 338

_English Traveller, The_, 129

_Englishman, The_, 247

_Enoch Arden_, 457

_Entail, The_, 422

_Eöthen_, 504

Epic, the, 11, 179

_Epic of Women, The_, 472

_Epicene, or The Silent Women_, 124, 149

_Epipsychidion_, 392

_Epistle to Arbuthnot_, 259, 274–275

_Epistle to Curio_, 303

_Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke_, 125

_Epitaph on a Hare_, 301

_Epithalamion_, 92, 179

_Erectheus_, 472

_Erewhon_, 492

Essay, the, 145, 268, 344, 438, 508

_Essay on Clive_, 497, 498–499

_Essay on Criticism, An_, 255, 261

_Essay of Dramatic Poesie, The_, 201, 269

_Essay concerning Human Understanding, An_, 219–221, 268

_Essay on Johnson_, 360

_Essay on Man, An_, 253, 260

_Essay on Mind, An_, 466

_Essay on Poetry, An_, 211

_Essays_, Bacon’s, 135

_Essays_, Cowley’s, 169

_Essays in Criticism_, 468

_Essays of Elia, The_, 427, 444–445

_Essays, Moral, Political, and Literary_, 328

_Esther Waters_, 537

=Etheredge, George=, =204=

_Eugene Aram, The Dream of_, 409

_Euphranor_, 468

_Euphues, the Anatomy of Wit_, 138, 146, 337, 340

_Euphues and his England_, 138–139, 154, 563–564

Euphuism, 138, 147

_Evan Harrington_, 483

=Evans, Mary Ann= (George Eliot), =488=

_Eve of St. Agnes, The_, 398, 401, 437, 446, 569

_Eve of St. John, The_, 412

_Eve of St. Mark, The_, 399–400

_Evelina, 325_, 354

=Evelyn, John=, =213=, 219

_Evening Walk, The_, 368

_Every Man in his Humour_, 124

_Every Man out of his Humour_, 124

_Everyman_, 74–75

_Evidences of Christianity, A View of the_, 333

_Examiner, The_ (Hunt), 365, 406

_Examiner, The_ (Tory periodical), 240, 268, 279

_Example of Virtue, The_, 65

_Excursion, The_, 369, 370, 371

Exeter Book, the, 3, 6, 7

_Exodus_ (Middle English poem), 20

_Expedition of Humphrey Clinker, The_, 321

_Expostulation and Reply_, 368

_Fables_ (Dryden), 222–223

_Fables for the Holy Alliance_, 405

_Fabliau_, the, 49

_Faerie Queene, The_, 48, 91, 93, 98, 155–156

_Fair Maid of Perth, The_, 415

_Fair Penitent, The_, 207

_Faithful Shepherdess, The_, 127, 145

_Falcon, The_, 458

_Falkland_, 425

_Falls of Princes_, The, 64

_Famous Chronicle of Edward the First, The_, 105

_Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth, The_, 77

_Fancies Chaste and Noble_, 174

_Far from the Madding Crowd_, 523

=Farquhar, George=, =205=, 215, 225–226

_Fates of the Apostles, The_, 7

_Fazio_, 435

_Felix Holt_, 488

=Felltham, Owen=, 181, 184

_Ferdinand, Count Fathom_, 321, 360

=Fergusson, Robert=, =315=, 345

_Ferishtah’s Fancies_, 463

_Ferrex and Porrex (Gorboduc)_, 77, 98

=Fielding, Henry=, =317=, 336, 338, 340, 346, 354–355, 479, 480,
481, 557

_Fifine at the Fair_, 463

_Fight at Finnesburgh, The_, 6, 11

_Fingal_, 313

_Finnesburgh, The Fight at_, 6, 11

_First Men in the Moon, The_, 533

=Fisher, John=, =67=, 70, 80

Fitton, Mary, 112

_Fitzboodle Papers, The_, 479

=Fitzgerald, Edward=, =468=

_Flaming Heart, The_, 171

=Flecker, J. E.=, 569–570

=Fletcher, Giles=, =101=

=Fletcher, John=, =126=, 397

=Fletcher, Phineas=, =101=

_Flower and the Leaf, The_, 36

_Flowers of Passion_, 536

_Food of the Gods, The_, 532

_Force of Religion, The_, 262

=Ford, Emanuel=, 339

=Ford, John=, =174=, 180

_Forest Minstrel, The_, 407

_Foresters, The_, 458

_Forsyte Saga, The_, 547

=Fortescue, Sir John=, 70

_Fortnightly Review, The_, 482

_Fortunes of Glencore, The_, 423

_Fortunes of Nigel, The_, 205, 415

_Forty New Pieces_ (W. H. Davies), 552

_Foul Play_, 486

_Four Georges, The_, 480

_Four Hymns_ (Spenser), 92

_Four P’s, The_, 76

_Fra Lippo Lippi_, 512

_Framley Parsonage_, 487

=Francis, Sir Philip=, 343

_Fraser’s Magazine_, 478, 479, 494, 500, 503

_Frederick II, The Life of_, 494

Free verse, 560

=Freeman, Edward A.=, =504=, 509

French Revolution, the, and English literature, 283, 330, 362, 366,
452

_French Revolution, The_, 494, 513

_French Revolution, Reflections on the_, 331, 332, 345

_Friar of Orders Grey, The_, 335

_Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_, 106

_Friend, The_, 380

Froissart, 70

_Frost at Midnight_, 378, 379

=Froude, James Anthony=, =503=

_Fudge Family in Paris, The_, 405

=Fuller, Thomas=, =178=, 180, 181, 427

_Funeral, The_, 247

_Funeral Sermon on Henry VII_ (Fisher), 80

=Galsworthy, John=, =547=, 556, 568–569

=Galt, John=, 421

_Game and Playe of Chesse, The_, 66

_Gammer Gurton’s Needle_, 78

_Garden of Cyrus, The_, 175

_Garden Fancies_, 465

=Gardiner, Samuel=, 509

_Garlande of Laurell, The_, 63

_Garment of Gude Ladies, The_, 60

Garrick, David, 289

=Garth, Sir Samuel=, =263=

=Gascoigne, George=, =99=, 144, 151

_Gawain and the Green Knight, Sir_, 21, 25, 337

=Gay, John=, =262=, 275

_Gebir_, 403

_Genesis_ (Middle English poem), 20

_Gentle Shepherd, The_, 266

_Gentleman Dancing Master, The_, 204

_Gentleman’s Magazine, The_, 289, 438

Germany, the influence of, on English literature, 365, 454

_Gertrude of Wyoming_, 405

_Ghost, The_, 305

_Giaour, The_, 384

=Gibbon, Edward=, 272, =325=, 341, 347, 348, 359, 436, 564

_Gil Blas_, 338

_Gil Morrice_, 48

_Gipsy, The_, 423

=Gissing, George=, =536=, 556

_Gladstone, The Life of_, 550

_Glove, The_, 464

_Goblin Market_, 470

_God’s Promises_, 85

=Godric=, 24

=Godwin, William=, =333=, 345, 390

_Golden Butterfly, The_, 490

_Golden Journey to Samarkand, The_, 569–570

_Golden Targe, The_, 61, 70

_Golden Wings_, 514

=Goldsmith, Oliver=, 248, 286, =293=, 335, 340, 344, 345, 347, 356,
491, 558, 573–574

_Gondibert_, 179

_Good Thoughts in Bad Times_, 178

_Good-natured Man, The_, 295

_Gorboduc_, 77, 98

=Gosson, Stephen=, 90

_Governance of England, The_, 70

_Governour, The Boke named the_, 70

=Gower, John=, =43=, 48, 50, 53

_Grace Abounding_, 209, 210

=Grahame, Kenneth=, 556

_Grave, The_, 305

_Graves of a Household, The_, 408

=Gray, Thomas=, 188, =297=, 334, 335, 342, 345, 365, 468

_Gray-beards at Play_, 549

_Great Expectations_, 475

_Great God Pan, The_, 467

_Great Hoggarty Diamond, The_, 479

_Great Rebellion, The History of the_, 176, 341

_Grecian Urn, Ode on a_, 401, 402

_Greece, The History of_, 435

=Green, John Richard=, =504=

_Green grow the Rashes, O!_, 311

=Greene, Robert=, =106=, 111, 142

Gregory I, Pope, 8

=Gregory, Lady=, 519

=Greville, Fulke, Lord Brooke=, 144

_Griffith Gaunt_, 486

_Groatsworth of Wit bought with a Million of Repentance, A_, 111,
142–143

=Grote, George=, =435=

Grub Street, 235, 249, 286, 287, 294

_Grub Street_, 536

_Guardian, The_ (Steele’s), 244, 247

_Gulliver’s Travels_, 240, 277, 425

_Guy Mannering_, 415, 417

_Guy and Pauline_, 539

_Guy of Warwick_, 22

_Hail and Farewell_, 537

=Hakluyt, Richard=, 88

_Halbert and Hob_, 571

=Hales, John=, 181

=Halifax, Lord=, =211=, 219

=Hall, Joseph=, =141=, 144, 163, 269

=Hallam, Henry=, =436=

_Hamlet_, 116, 117, 118, 121

=Hampole, the Hermit=, of, 16, =21=

_Hand of Ethelberta, The_, 523

_Handfull of Pleasant Delites, A_, 104

_Handlyng Synne_, 19, 30–31

=Hankin, St. John=, 559

_Hard Cash_, 486

_Hard Times_, 475

=Hardy, Thomas=, 453, =520=, 536, 538, 539, 556, 559, 560, 561, 571

_Hare, Epitaph on a_, 301

_Harmony of the Church, The_, 100, 144

_Harold_ (Lytton), 426

_Harold_ (Tennyson), 458

_Harrington_, 421

_Harrowing of Hell, The_, 7

_Harry Lorrequer_, 423

_Hastings, The Battle of_, 314

_Havelock the Dane_, 22, 24, 30

=Hawes, Stephen=, =65=

=Hazlitt, William=, 365, =431=, 438, 440, 508

=Head, Richard=, 338

_Heart of Midlothian, The_, 415

_Heartbreak House_, 542

_Heaven_, 554–555

_Hecatompathia_, 144

=Hemans, Felicia=, 363, =408=

_Hendyng, The Proverbs of_, 20, 25

_Henrietta Temple_, 425

_Henry IV_ (Parts 1 and 2), 116, 117

_Henry the Fifth, The Famous Victories of_, 77

_Henry V_, 116, 122

_Henry VI_ (Parts 1, 2, and 3), 116

_Henry VIII_, 107, 117

_Henry Esmond_, 479, 481–482

=Henryson, Robert=, =59=, 79

=Herbert, George=, =170=

_Hereward the Wake_, 489

_Hermit, The_ (Goldsmith), 295, 335

_Hermit, The_ (Parnell), 265

_Hero and Leander_, 144

_Heroes, The_, 490

_Heroes and Hero-worship_, 494

Heroic couplet, the, 183, 216, 284, 334, 335

Heroic play, the, 199, 215

_Heroic Stanzas_ (Dryden), 194

=Herrick, Robert=, =170=, 180, 222

_Hesperides, The_, 170

=Hewlett, Maurice=, 556

=Heywood, John=, 76

=Heywood, Thomas=, =128=

=Higden, Ranulf=, 49

_Hilda Lessways_, 538

_Hind and the Panther, The_, 197, 217, 261

Historical plays, early, 77;
research, growth of, 285;
works, 181, 340, 509

_Historie of Horestes, The_, 77

_Historie of James the Fourth, The Scottish_, 107

_History of America, The_, 328

_History of Brazil, The_, 403

_History of Charles V, The_, 328

_History of the Crimean War, The_, 504

_History of Earth and Animated Nature, The_, 297

_History of England, The_ (Froude), 503

_History of England, The_ (Goldsmith), 297

_History of England, A Constitutional_ (Hallam), 436

_History of England, The_ (Hume), 328, 341, 350–351

_History of England, The_ (Macaulay), 498, 513

_History of the English People, A Short_, 504

_History of the Great Rebellion, The_, 176, 341

_History of Greece, The_, 435

_History of the Holy War, The_ (Fuller), 178

_History of the Jews, The_, 435

_History of John Bull, The_, 251

_History of Latin Christianity, The_, 435

_History of Mr. Polly, The_, 532

_History of the Norman Conquest, The_, 504

_History of his own Times, The_, 221

_History of the Renaissance, Studies in the_, 502

_History of Richard III, The_, 69

_History of Samuel Titmarsh, The_, 478

_History of Scotland, The_ (Robertson), 328

_History of Switzerland, A_, 326

_History of the World, A_, 341

=Hobbes, Thomas=, =177=, 181, 183, 218

=Hoccleve, Thomas=, =64=

=Hodgson, Ralph=, 559

=Hogg, James=, =407=, 558

_Holly-tree, The_, 403

_Holy Dying_, 178

_Holy Fair, The_, 308

_Holy Living_, 178

_Holy Sonnetts_, 103

_Holy War, The_, 209

_Holy War, The History of the_ (Fuller), 178

_Holy Willie’s Prayer_, 310–311

=Home, John=, 336

_Home Thoughts from Abroad_, 462–463

_Homer_ (Chapman), 127, 142

=Hood, Thomas=, 263, =408=

=Hooker, Richard=, =139=, 147, 152–153

_Horæ Paulinæ_, 333

_Horn_, 22, 24

_Hound of Heaven, The_, 551

_Hours of Idleness_, 383

_Hous of Fame, The_, 35, 39–40

_House of the Wolfings, The_, 471

_Household Words_, 474, 475

_How He lied to her Husband_, 543

_How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix_, 464

=Howard, Henry, Earl of Surrey=, =96=, 143, 150, 151

=Howell, James=, 181, 184

_Hudibras_, 208, 215, 237, 261

=Hueffer, Ford Madox=, 528

_Human Knowledge, The Principles of_, 252

_Human Nature, Treatise on_, 328

_Human Understanding, An Essay concerning_, 219–220, 268, 269

=Hume, David=, =328=, 341, 350–351

_Humphrey Clinker, The Expedition of_, 321

=Hunt, Leigh=, 363, 365, 396, 397, =406=, 445

_Husband’s Message, The_, 6

=Huxley, Thomas Henry=, =505=

=Hyde, Edward, Earl of Clarendon=, =176=, 181, 218, 221, 341, 501

_Hydriotaphia, or Urne Buriall_, 175, 181

_Hylas and Philonous, Dialogues of_, 252

_Hymen’s Triumph_, 104

Hymns, Latin, influence of, on the lyric, 26

_Hypatia_, 489

_Hyperion_, 399

Ibsen, Henrik, 519, 540, 541

_Idea of a Patriot King, The_, 252–253

_Idiot Boy, The_, 368

_Idler, The_ (periodical), 289, 344

_Idylls of the King, The_, 457, 458

_Iliad_ (Pope), 256

_Imaginary Conversations_, 404

_Imaginary Portraits_, 502

_Imitation of Spenser_, 397

_Importance of being Earnest, The_, 547

_Impressions of Theophrastus Such, The_, 488

_In the Cemetery_, 522

_In Memoriam_, 453, 456, 459

_Inchcape Rock, The_, 403

_Indian Emperor, The_, 199

_Induction, The_, 98, 144

_Infernal Marriage, The_, 425

_Inheritors, The_, 528

_Inland Voyage, An_, 491

_Inn Album, The_, 463

Interludes, 76

_Intimations of Immortality_, 373, 374

_Introduction to the Literature of Europe, An_, 436

_Invisible Man, The_, 532

_Irene_, 289, 335

_Irish Melodies_, 404

_Irrational Knot, The_, 540

Irving, Sir Henry, 458

_Isabella_, 398, 401

_Island of Dr. Moreau, The_, 533

_Isle of Palms, The_, 434

_Isles of Greece, The_, 388

_It’s Never too Late to Mend_, 486

_Italy_, 406

_Ivanhoe_, 415, 480

_Ixion in Heaven_, 425

_Jack Hinton_, 423

_Jack Sheppard_, 422

_Jack Wilton, or The Unfortunate Traveller_, 107, 146, 338

_Jacob Faithful_, 424

=Jacobs, W. W.=, 558

_Jacqueline_, 406

=James I of Scotland=, =58=, 81

_James the Fourth, The Scottish Historie of_, 107

=James, G. P. R.=, =422=, 438

_Jane Eyre_, 453, 485

_Jane Shore_, 207

_Japhet in Search of a Father_, 424

=Jeffrey, Francis=, =432=

=Jehan de Bourgogne=, =45=

_Jeronimo_, 108

=Jerrold, Douglas=, 558

_Jew of Malta, The Rich_, 109

_Jews, The History of the_, 435

_Joan of Arc_, 403

_Joan and Peter_, 532

_Job_, 264

_Jocasta_, 77, 99

_Jockey’s Intelligencer, The_, 268

_Jocoseria_, 463

_Johan Johan_, 76

=John of Trevisa=, 49, 52

_John Anderson, my Jo_, 308

_John Bull, The History of_, 251

_John Bull’s Other Island_, 542

_John Gilpin_, 301, 335

_John Woodvil_, 427

Johnson, Esther, 236

=Johnson, Samuel=, 193, 207, 263, 268, 272, 283, =286=, 294, 297,
300, 313, 335, 340, 343, 347, 349–350, 355–356, 356–358, 439,
494, 558, 575

_Johnson, Life of_, 276, 328, 343, 360

_Johnson, Essay on_ (Macaulay), 360

Johnsonese, 289, 347, 349, 440

_Jolly Beggars, The_, 308

_Jonathan Wild the Great_, 318

_Jongleurs_, 26

=Jonson, Ben=, 110, =123=, 149, 172

_Joseph Andrews_, 318

_Journal of the Plague Year, A_, 250, 272, 277

_Journal to Stella_, 240

_Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, A_, 291

_Journey from this World to the Next_, 318

_Joy_, 547

_Joyfull Medytacyon, A_, 65

_Jude the Obscure_, 523

_Judith_, 3

_Julia, To_, 170

_Julian and Maddalo_, 392

_Juliana_, 7

_Julius Cæsar_, 116

_Jungle Book, The_, 538

Junian manuscript, the, 3, 7

=Junius=, 286, 343

_Justice_, 547

Jutish dialect, the, 3

=Keats, John=, 94, 363, 364, 392, =396=, 406, 436, 439, 443, 446,
459, 506, 569

Kemble, J. M., 7

_Kenilworth_, 415

Kennings, in Old English poetry, 5, 12

Kentish dialect, the, 3, 16

_Kidnapped_, 492

_Killigrew, On the Death of Mrs. Anne_, 214

_Kilmeny_, 407

_Kim_, 538

_King Alisaunder_, 22

_King Arthur’s Tomb_, 512, 513

_King Edward the Fourth_, 129

_King Hart_, 62

_King John_, 116, 119

_King Lear_, 116, 120, 157

_King Leir, The Chronicle History of_, 77, 118

_King and No King, A_, 127

_King Stephen_, 401

_King of Tars, The_, 25

_King’s Own, The_, 424

_Kingis Quhair, The_, 58, 81

=Kinglake, Alexander=, =503=

=Kingsley, Charles=, =489=

=Kipling, Rudyard=, =537=, 556, 560, 564, 574

_Kipps_, 532, 533

_Kiss for Cinderella, A_, 548

_Knight of the Burning Pestle, The_, 127

_Knight of Gwynne, The_, 423

_Knight’s Tale, The_, 38

_Knight’s Tomb, The_, 378

_Kubla Khan_, 377

=Kyd, Thomas=, =107=

_Kynge Johan_, 85

_Lack of Stedfastness, The_, 36

_Lacrymæ Musarum_, 551

_Lady of the Lake, The_, 413, 446

_Lady Montague’s Page_, 423

_Lady of Pleasure, The_, 180

_Lady Windermere’s Fan_, 547

_Lake Isle of Innisfree, The_, 555

_Lalla Rookh_, 404

=Lamb, Charles=, 365, 375, =426=, 439, 441, 444–445, 558

_Lament for the Makaris_, 60, 61

_Lamia_, 400

_Land of Heart’s Desire, The_, 555

=Landor, Walter Savage=, =403=

=Langland, William=, =41=, 48, 53–54

=Langley, William=--_see_ =Langland, William=

Language, Old English, 3

_Laodicean, A_, 523

_Laon and Cynthia_ (_The Revolt of Islam_), 391

_Lara_, 384

_Last Chronicle of Barset, The_, 487

_Last Day, The_, 262

_Last Days of Pompeii, The_, 426

_Last Poems_ (E. B. Browning), 467

=Latimer, Hugh=, =68=, 81

_Latin Christianity, The History of_, 435

_Latter-day Pamphlets_, 494

_Lavengro_, 490

_Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, The_, 139, 152–153

_Lay of the Last Minstrel, The_, 412

_Lay Sermons and Addresses_, 506

_Lays of Ancient Rome, The_, 497

_Lays of France_, 472

=Layamon=, =17=, 29

Lecture, the, and literature, 508

_Lectures on the English Poets_, 431

=Lee, Nathaniel=, =206=

_Legend of the Rhine, The_, 480

_Legende of Good Women, The_, 35, 39

_Lenora_, 421

_Lenore_, 412

Letter-writing, 341, 439

_Letter to the English People, A_, 10

_Letter to a Noble Lord, A_, 331

_Letter, More’s to his Wife_, 80

_Letter to Windham_, 251

_Letters_, Cowper’s, 302, 343–344

_Letters, Drapier’s_, 240, 270, 343

_Letters_, Howell’s, 181

_Letters_, Leigh Hunt’s, 445

_Letters_, Johnson’s, 343, 357

_Letters of Junius_, 343

_Letters_, Lady M. Wortley Montagu’s, 252, 341

_Letters_, Pope’s, 260

_Letters_, Walpole’s, 323, 343, 358

_Letters of Peter Plymley, The_, 433

_Letters on a Regicide Peace_, 331

_Letters to his Son_ (Chesterfield), 333, 342

_Letters on the Spirit of Patriotism_, 251

=Lever, Charles=, =423=

_Leviathan, The_, 177, 183

_Levities_, 304

=Lewis, Matthew=, =324=

_Liberty_, 292

_Liberty of Prophesying, The_, 178

_Library, The_, 282, 302

_Life and Death of Jason, The_, 470

_Life and Death of Mr. Badman, The_, 209, 339

_Life of Byron, The_, 401, 439

_Life of Cromwell, The_, 550

_Life of Frederick II, The_, 494

_Life of Gladstone, The_, 550

_Life of Jesus, The_, Strauss’s (George Eliot), 488

_Life of Doctor Johnson, The_, 287, 328, 329, 343, 336

_Life of Napoleon, The_, 416

_Life of Nelson, The_, 403

_Life of Schiller, The_, 494

_Life of Scott, The_, 435, 439

_Life of John Sterling, The_, 494, 496

_Light that Failed, The_, 538

Lindisfarne Gospels, the, 71

_Literature and Dogma_, 468

_Literature of Europe, An Introduction to the_, 436

_Little Dorrit_, 475

_Lives of the Novelists, The_, 416

_Lives of the Poets, The_, 291, 350, 575

_Lives of the Saints, The_, 9

_Lochaber no More_, 265

=Locke, John=, =219=, 268, 269

=Lockhart, John G.=, 411, =434=, 438, 439, 440

_Locksley Hall_, 456

_Locksley Hall Sixty Years after_, 458

_Locrine_, 472

=Lodge, Thomas=, =107=, 142

_London_, 287, 288, 335

_London Gazette, The_, 268

_London Lickpenny_, 64

_London Magazine, The_, 365, 408, 427, 429, 558

_Looker On, The_, 344

_Lord Hastings, Upon the Death of the_, 185, 228

_Lord Jim_, 527, 531

_Lorna Doone_, 491

_Lotos-Eaters, The_, 456

_Lounger, The_, 344

_Love_, 378

_Love of Fame, The_, 263

_Love in Fantastic Triumph sate_, 221–222

_Love of King David and Fair Bethsabe, The_, 106

_Love for Love_, 203

_Love and Mr. Lewisham_, 532

_Love Triumphant_, 201

_Love in the Valley_, 482

_Love in a Wood_, 204

_Love’s Labour’s Lost_, 116, 117

_Love’s Sacrifice_, 174

_Lovel the Widower_, 480

=Lovelace, Richard=, =173=, 185

_Lover’s Melancholy, The_, 174

_Lucasta, To_, 173

_Lucy_, 372

_Lucy Gray_, 368, 370

_Luria_, 463

_Lycidas_, 164

=Lydgate, John=, =64=, 70

_Lyfe of John Picus, The_, 69

_Lying Lover, The_, 247

=Lyly, John=, 105, 107, =138=, 154, 337, 563–564

=Lyndsay, Sir David=, =59=, 79, 82–83

=Lyric, the=, 11, 16, 47, 114, 143, 178, 179, 181, 213, 218, 266,
335, 436, 506

_Lyrical Ballads_, 367, 368, 369, 375, 376

=Lytton, Lord=, =425=, 438

=Macaulay, Lord=, 287, 360, 438, =496=, 508, 509, 510, 513

_Macbeth_, 116, 117, 119

_MacFlecknoe_, 197, 215

=Mackenzie, Compton=, =539=

=Mackenzie, Henry=, =324=, 344

=Macpherson, James=, 290, =312=, 335, 348, 349

Macready, William Charles, 462

_Magnificence_, 63

_Maid of Sker, The_, 491

_Maid’s Tragedy, The_, 127

_Making of England, The_, 504

_Maldon, The Battle of_, 6

_Male Regle, La_, 64

=Malory, Sir Thomas=, 33, =46=, 50, 52, 457

_Man, An Essay on_, 253, 260

_Man of Feeling, The_, 324

_Man of Mode, The_, 205

_Man in the Moon, The_, 100

_Man and Superman_, 542, 544

_Man who was Thursday, The_, 549

_Man’s Place in Nature_, 506

_Mandalay_, 538

=Mandeville, Sir John=, 33, =44=, 49, 50, 51–52, 153

_Manfred_, 387

=Manning, Robert=, =18=, 24

_Mansfield Park_, 419

Manuscripts, Old English, 3

Marco Polo, 45

=Mare, Walter de la=, 560

_Marino Faliero_, 387

_Marius the Epicurean_, 502

Marlborough, Duke of, 232, 242

=Marlowe, Christopher=, 104, 105, =108=, 129, 144, 153–154

_Marmion_, 412

=Marryat, Frederick=, =423=

=Marston, John=, =127=

_Martin Chuzzlewit_, 475

=Marvell, Andrew=, 179, 185, 214

_Mary in Heaven, To_, 309, 311

_Mary Rose_, 548

_Mary Stuart_ (Swinburne), 472

=Masefield, John=, =552=, 559

_Masks and Faces_, 486

Masque, the, 125, 145

_Masque of Anarchy, The_, 392, 437

_Masque of Beauty, The_, 125

_Masque of Queens, The_, 125

_Massacre at Paris, The_, 109

=Massinger, Philip=, =173=, 180

_Master of Ballantrae, The_, 492

_Master Humphrey’s Clock_, 474

_Masterman Ready_, 424

_Maud_, 456

_Mayor of Casterbridge, The_, 523, 525

_Mazeppa_, 385

_Measure for Measure_, 116, 121, 122

_Medal, The_, 197

_Melibœus, The Tale of_, 36, 37

_Memoirs of Barry Lyndon, The_, 479

_Memoirs of a Cavalier, The_, 250

_Men and Women_, 463

_Men, Women, and Books_, 406

_Merchant of Venice, The_, 116, 157

_Mercurius Anglicus_, 267

_Mercurius Politicus_, 267

_Mercurius Pragmaticus_, 267

=Meredith, George=, =482=, 492, 508, 510

=Meres, Francis=, 115

_Merry Wives of Windsor, The_, 116

Metaphysical poets, the, 160, 161, 170, 184

Meter, early development of, 24

Middle English, 49

=Michel of Northgate, Dan=, 23

_Middlemarch_, 488

=Middleton, Thomas=, =128=

Midland dialect, the, 3, 16

_Midshipman Easy, Mr._, 424

_Midsummer Night’s Dream, A_, 76, 116, 118, 119, 120

=Mill, John Stuart=, 452

_Mill on the Floss, The_, 488

=Miller, Hugh=, =504=

=Milman, Henry Hart=, =435=

=Milton, John=, 94, 102, 160, =161=, 182, 186, 217, 303, 459, 501,
562

_Milton_ (Earnest Myers), 188–189

Mimes, 72

_Mind, An Essay on_, 466

=Minot, Laurence=, 19, 25

_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, The_, 412

Miracle-plays, 74

_Mirror, The_, 344

_Mirror for Magistrates, The_, 98

_Mirror of the Sea, The_, 528

Miscellanies, poetical, 104

_Misfortunes of King Arthur, The_, 77

_Mr. Britling sees it Through_, 532

_Mr. Clutterbuck’s Election_, 549

_Mr. Midshipman Easy_, 424

_Mr. Polly, The History of_, 532

_Mrs. Anne Killigrew, On the Death of_, 214

_Mrs. Warren’s Profession_, 541

_Mistress, The_, 169

_Mithridates_, 206

_Modern Love_, 482

_Modern Painters_, 500, 513–514

_Modern Utopia, A_, 533

Molière, 192

_Moll Flanders_, 250, 339

_Monk, The_, 324

=Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley=, =252=, 341

Montaigne, 269

_Monthly Magazine, The_, 473

_Moon, The_, 552

_Moonstone, The_, 487

=Moore, George=, 520, =536=

=Moore, Thomas=, =404=

_Moral Ode_, 20, 28, 29

_Moral and Political Philosophy_, 333

_Morall Fabillis of Esope, The_, 60

Morality-plays, 74

=More, Sir Thomas=, =69=, 80

=Morley, Lord=, =550=, 561

_Morning Chronicle, The_, 365, 473

_Morning Post, The_, 365, 380

=Morris, William=, =470=, 506, 507, 512–513, 514

_Morte d’Arthure_ (Middle English romance), 22

_Morte d’Arthur_ (Malory), 46–47, 52

_Morte d’Arthur_ (Tennyson), 456

_Mother Hubberd’s Tale_, 91, 92

_Mother’s Picture, On the Receipt of my_, 301

_Moti Guj--Mutineer_, 564

_Mourning Bride, The_, 203

_Much Ado about Nothing_, 116

_Mummer’s Wife, A_, 537

Mummings, 72

_Munera Pulveris_, 500

_Murder considered as One of the Fine Arts_, 429

_Muse in Exile, The_, 551

_Music and Moonlight_, 472

_My First Play_ (Lamb), 428

_My Heart’s in the Hielands_, 308

_My Novel_, 426

=Myers, Ernest=, 188–189

_Mysteries of Udolpho, The_, 324

Mystery-plays, 73

_Napoleon, The Life of_, 416

Narrative poetry, 48, 144, 215, 266, 436, 506, 559

=Nash, Thomas=, =107=, 142, 338

_Natural History of Selborne, The_, 334, 355

_Naval Officer, The_, 424

_Necessity of Atheism, The_, 389

_Neglected Heart, A_, 472

_Nelson, The Life of_, 403

_Nero_, 206

_New Arabian Nights, The_, 491

_New Atlantis, The_, 135, 146

_New Machiavelli, The_, 532

_New Monthly Magazine, The_, 405, 408

_New Poems_ (M. Arnold), 467

_New Poems_ (C. G. Rossetti), 470

_New Voyage round the World, A_, 250

_New Way to pay Old Debts, A_, 174

_New Worlds for Old_, 533

_Newcomes, The_, 479

Newman, Cardinal John, 454

=Nicholas of Guildford=, 20

_Nicholas Nickleby_, 474

_Nigger of the Narcissus, The_, 528, 529–530

_Night_ (Charles Churchill), 305

_Night Thoughts, The Complaint, or_, 263, 270, 271, 278, 305

_Nightingale, Ode to a_, 401

_No Name_, 487

_Noble Numbers_, 170

_Noctes Ambrosianæ_, 434, 441

_Nocturnal Reverie, The_, 264

_Norman Conquest, The History of the_, 504

=North, Christopher=, =433=, 441

_Northanger Abbey_, 418, 420

Northern dialect, the, 16, 20

Northumbrian dialect, the, 3, 7, 16

=Norton Thomas=, 77, 98

_Nostromo_, 528

_Notes of Instruction concerning the Making of Verse in English,
Certayne_, 99

Novel, the, 107, 146, 336, 437, 507, 555–556

_Nun’s Priest’s Tale, The_, 40–41

_Nuptials of Attila, The_, 482

_Nut-brown Maid, The_, 47

_Nutting_, 368

_Nymphidia_, 100

_O’ a’ the Airts_, 308

_O, my Luve is like a Red, Red Rose_, 308, 309–310

_O, Willie brewed a Peck o’ Maut_, 308

_Oberon, the Fairy Prince_, 125

_Observer, The_, 344

=Occleve, Thomas=, =64=

_Occleve’s Complaint_, 64

_Oceana_, 503

_Odd Women, The_, 536

Ode, the, 179, 214

_Ode to Autumn_ (Keats), 401, 443

_Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College_, 298

_Ode to Evening_, 299

_Ode to France_, 378

_Ode on a Grecian Urn_, 401, 402

_Ode: Intimations of Immortality_, 373, 374

_Ode on the Morning of Christ’s Nativity_, 164

_Ode to a Nightingale_, 401

_Ode to the West Wind_, 393

_O’Donovan, The_, 423

_Œdipus Tyrannus, or Swellfoot the Tyrant_, 437

_Œnone_, 456

_Œnone, The Death of_, 458

_Oh, to be in England_, 516

_Old Bachelor, The_, 203

_Old Curiosity Shop, The_, 475, 477

_Old English Baron, The_, 416

Old English language, the, 3

_Old Fortunatus_, 128

_Old Mortality_, 415, 440–441

_Old Red Sandstone, The_, 505

_Old St. Paul’s_, 422

_Old Wives’ Tale, The_ (Bennett), 538

_Old Wives’ Tale, The_ (Peele), 106

=Oldham, John=, 215

_Oliver Cromwell’s Letters and Speeches_, 494

_Oliver Twist_, 474

_Olor Iscanus_, 171

_On Divorce_ (Milton), 163

_On his Own Death_ (Swift), 237

_On the Death of Mrs. Anne Killigrew_, 214

_Of Education_ (Milton), 163

_On Nothing_, 550

_On Phillis_, 182

_On Prayer_ (Jeremy Taylor), 187–188

_On the Receipt of my Mother’s Picture_, 301

_On Shakespeare_ (Milton), 164

_One of our Conquerors_, 484

_Ordeal of Richard Fever, The_, 482

_Origin of Species, The_, 453, 505, 506

_Origines upon the Maudeleyne_, 36

_Orinooko, or The Royal Slave_, 339

_Orison to Our Lady, The_, 20

_Orlando Furioso_, 107

_Ormond_, 421

=Orm, or Ormin=, 19

_Ormulum_, 19, 24

Orosius, 8

_Orphan, The_, 206, 217–218

_Orpheus and Eurydice_, 60

=O’Shaughnessy, Arthur Edward=, =472=

_Ossian_, 290, 313, 348

_Othello_, 116

_Otho the Great_, 401

_Ottava rima_, 386, 398

=Otway, Thomas=, =206=, 217–218, 226, 391, 392

_Our Mutual Friend_, 475

_Outcast of the Islands, An_, 527

_Outline of History, An_, 533

=Overbury, Sir Thomas=, =139=, 269

_Ovid_ (Sandys), 183

_Owl and the Nightingale, The_, 20

_Oxford Gazette, The_, 268

_Pacchiarotto_, 464

_Pageant, A_, 470

_Pair of Blue Eyes, A_, 523

=Paley, William=, =333=, 345

_Palice of Honour, The_, 62

_Palladis Tamia, Wit’s Treasury_, 115

_Pamela_, 315, 316, 340, 341

Pamphlets, 89, 142

_Paolo and Francesca_, 559

_Paracelsus_, 462

_Paradise Lost_, 165, 179, 187, 562

_Paradise Regained_, 166, 179

_Paradyse of Daynty Devises, The_, 104

_Parisina_, 384

_Parismus, Prince of Bohemia_, 339

_Parlement of Foules, The_, 34

_Parleyings with Certain People_, 463

_Parliament of Bees, The_, 145

=Parnell, Thomas=, =265=

_Parson’s Tale, The_, 36, 37

_Parthenissa_, 339

_Passetyme of Pleasure, The_, 65

_Passionate Elopement, The_, 539

_Passionate Pilgrim, The_, 104, 112

_Passions, The_, 335, 352

_Past and Present_, 494

_Past and Present, Poems of the_ (Hardy), 521

_Pastoral Care_, 8, 9, 51

Pastoral poetry, 178, 266

_Pastorals_ (Pope), 255

=Pater, Walter=, =502=, 508

_Path to Rome, The_, 550

_Patience_, 21, 22

_Patronage_, 421

_Paul Clifford_, 425

_Pauline_, 461

_Peacock Pie_, 560

_Pearl_, 21, 25, 28, 149–150

_Peblis to the Play_, 58

=Pecock, Reginald=, =66=

=Peele, George=, =105=

_Peg Woffington_, 486

_Pelham_, 425

_Pendennis_, 479

_Peninsular War, The_, 403

_Penseroso, Il_, 164, 180

=Pepys, Samuel=, 194, =212=, 219, 240

=Percy, Bishop Thomas=, 285, 335, 345

_Peregrine Pickle_, 321

_Pericles_, 117

Periodicals, 234, 267, 344, 438

_Perkin Warbeck_, 174

_Persian Eclogues_, 299

_Persuasion_, 419

_Peter Bell_, 369

_Peter Pan_, 548

_Peter Plymley, The Letters of_, 433

_Peter Porcupine’s Journal_, 435

_Peter Simple_, 424

_Peter’s Letters to his Kinsfolk_, 434

_Peveril of the Peak_, 415

=Phaer, Thomas=, 142

_Pharonnida_, 180

_Philanderer, The_, 541

_Philaster_, 127

=Philips, Ambrose=, =264=, 271

=Philips, John=, 270

=Phillips, Stephen=, 559

_Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime
and Beautiful, A_, 331, 344

_Phœnix, The_, 7, 13, 29

_Phœnix Nest, The_, 104

Picaresque novel, the, 338

_Pickwick Papers, The_, 473, 474, 475, 476, 477, 557

_Picture of Dorian Gray, The_, 546, 565

_Pied Piper of Hamelin, The_, 514

_Piers the Plowman, The Vision of William concerning_, 42, 50,
53–54

_Pilgrim of Glencoe, The_, 405

_Pilgrim Fathers, The_ (Hemans), 408

_Pilgrim’s Progress, The_, 209, 210–211, 225, 240, 339, 575

Pindaric odes, 169, 180, 334

_Pindaric Odes_ (Gray), 298

_Pindarique Odes_ (Cowley), 169, 180

_Pine Forest, The_, 395

=Pinero, Sir Arthur=, 559

_Pippa Passes_, 462, 466

_Piramus and Thisbe_ (Cowley), 169

_Pirate, The_, 415

_Pistyl of Susan, The_, 28

_Places_, 522–523

_Plague Year, A Journal of the_, 250

_Plain Dealer, The_, 204

_Plain Tales from the Hills_, 538

Play-cycles, 75

_Playboy of the Western World, The_, 548

_Pleasures of Hope, The_, 405

_Pleasures of the Imagination, The_, 303

_Pleasures of Memory, The_, 405

_Plebeian, The_, 247, 268

Plutarch’s _Lives_ (North), 141

_Poems_ (M. Arnold), 467

_Poems_ (Clare), 409

_Poems_ (Cowper), 300

_Poems_ (Keats), 397

_Poems_ (Compton Mackenzie), 539

_Poems_ (D. G. Rossetti), 469

_Poems_ (Tennyson, 1832), 455

_Poems_ (Tennyson, 1833), 455~456

_Poems_ (Vaughan), 171

_Poems, Chiefly Lyrical_ (Tennyson), 455

_Poems of 1908–1914_ (Drinkwater), 554

_Poems and Ballads_ (Swinburne), 471

_Poems by Two Brothers_ (A. and C. Tennyson), 455

_Poems of the Past and Present_ (Hardy), 521

_Poems by the Way_ (W. Morris), 471

_Poetaster, The_, 124, 128

_Poetical Sketches_ (Blake), 314

_Poetry, An Essay on_ (Temple), 211

_Political Justice_, 333, 345

_Political Lying, The Art of_, 251

_Political Register, The_, 365, 435

Political writing, 233

_Polychronicon_, 40

_Polyolbion_, 100, 144

_Poor Relations_, 540

=Pope, Alexander=, 224, =253=, 265, 266, 270, 272, 273, 274–275,
334, 351, 368, 383

=Porter, Jane=, 416

_Praise of Chimney-Sweepers, The_, 444–445

_Præterita_, 500

Prayer Book, the, 70

Pre-Raphaelites, the, 402, 453, 469, 470, 506, 509

_Prelude, The_, 369, 437, 562–563

_Present Discontents, Thoughts on the_, 331

_Preston Fight_, 422

_Pretty Lady, The_, 538

_Pricke of Conscience, The_, 21

_Pride and Prejudice_, 419

_Prince Arthur_, 264

_Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau_, 463

_Prince’s Progress, The_, 470

_Prince’s Quest, The_, 551

_Princess, The_, 456, 458

_Principles of Human Knowledge, The_, 252

=Prior, Matthew=, =261=, 266

_Prisoner of Chillon, The_, 385

_Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft, The_, 536

_Proclamation of Henry III_, 51

_Prodigy, The_, 264

_Professor, The_, 485

_Progress of Poesy, The_, 188, 298

_Progress of the Soul, The_, 102

_Prologue, The_ (Chaucer), 36, 38

_Prometheus Bound_, 467

_Prometheus Unbound_, 391, 394

_Prophecy of Famine, The_, 305

_Prothalamion_, 92, 179

_Proud Maisie_, 413

_Proverbs of Alfred, The_, 20

_Proverbs of Hendyng, The_, 20, 25

_Provoked Wife, The_, 205

_Provost, The_, 422

Psalms, the Book of, 132, 133

_Pseudodoxia Epidemica_, 175

_Pseudo-Martyr, The_, 103

_Public Intelligencer, The_, 268

_Public Ledger, The_, 296

_Public Spirit of the Whigs, The_, 240

Publishing houses, 235

_Punch_, 409, 478, 480

_Purple Island, The_, 101

_Purple Pileus, The_, 535

=Purvey, John=, 71

_Pyrenees, The_, 550

_Quality Street_, 548

_Quarterly Review, The_, 365, 397, 558

_Queen Mab_, 390

_Queen Mary_ (Tennyson), 458

_Queen Mother and Rosamond, The_, 472

_Queen’s Wake, The_ (Hogg), 407

_Queenes Wake, The_ (Daniel), 104

_Quentin Durward_, 415, 423

=Radcliffe, Mrs.=, =324=, 340

=Raleigh, Sir Walter=, 341

_Ralph Roister Doister_, 77, 78, 85–86

_Rambler, The_, 289, 344, 347

=Ramsay, Allan=, =265=

_Rape of the Lock, The_, 257, 351

_Rape of Lucrece, The_, 112, 144

_Rarely, rarely, comest Thou_, 395

_Rasselas_, 290, 340

_Rauf Coilyear_, 22

=Reade, Charles=, =486=

_Reader, The_, 247

_Ready-Money Mortiboy_, 490

Realism, 519

_Rebecca and Rowena_, 480

_Recessional, The_, 538

_Recluse, The_, 369

_Recruiting Officer, The_, 205

_Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye, The_, 66, 67

_Red Cotton Night-Cap Country_, 463

_Redgauntlet_, 415, 557

_Reflections on the French Revolution_, 331, 332, 345

_Regiment of Princes, The_, 64

_Rehearsal, The_, 215

_Reign of William Rufus, The_, 504

_Rejected Addresses_, 409

_Relapse, The_, 205

_Religio Medici_, 175

_Reliques of Ancient Poetry_, 285, 335

_Remarks on the Barrier Treaty_, 240

_Remorse_, 378, 437

_Renaissance, Studies in the History of the_, 502

_Renaissance in Italy, The_, 502

_Repressor of Over-much Blaming the Clergy, The_, 66

_Rescue, The_, 528, 529

_Resolution and Independence_, 372

_Resolves_, 181

Restoration comedy, 202;
tragedy, 206

_Retreat, The_, 172

_Return of the Druses, The_, 463

_Return of the Native, The_, 523

_Revenger’s Tragedy, The_, 129

_Review, The_, 249, 268

_Revolt of Islam, The_, 391

Revolution, the French, and English literature, 283, 330, 362, 366,
452

_Reynard the Fox_, 552

_Rhapsody on Poetry_, 278

_Rhoda Fleming_, 483

Rhyme royal, 58, 98

=Rice, James=, =490=

_Rich Relatives_, 539

_Richard Cœur-de-Lion_, 22

_Richard II_, 116

_Richard III, The Historie of_ (More), 69

_Richard III_ (Shakespeare), 116

=Richardson, Samuel=, =315=, 340, 341

_Richelieu_ (G. P. R. James), 422

_Richelieu_ (Lytton), 426

_Riddles_ (Exeter Book), 7

_Riders to the Sea_, 548

_Rienzi_, 426

_Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The_, 376, 378–379, 445–446

_Rimini_, 406

_Ring and the Book, The_, 463, 465, 507, 563

_Rival Ladies, The_, 199, 216

_Rival Queens, The_, 206

_Rivals, The_, 336

_Roaring Girle, The_, 128

_Rob Roy_, 415

_Robene and Makyne_, 60

=Robert of Gloucester=, =18=, 25

=Robertson, William=, =328=, 341

_Robinson Crusoe_, 249, 250, 340

=Rochester, Earl of=, 213

_Roderick the Goth_, 403

_Roderick Random_, 321, 346

=Rogers, John=, 72

=Rogers, Samuel=, 405

_Rokeby_, 413–414

=Rolle, Richard, of Hampole=, 16, =21=

_Romance_, 528

_Romance of the Forest, The_, 324

Romances, metrical, 22, 26, 49, 57, 337

Romanticism, 89

_Romany Rye, The_, 490

_Romaunt of the Rose, The_, 34

_Romeo and Juliet_, 116

_Romola_, 488

_Rookwood_, 422

_Roots of the Mountains, The_, 471

_Rosamond_, 243

_Rosciad, The_, 305

_Rose Aylmer_, 403

_Rose Mary_, 469

=Rossetti, Christina Georgina=, =469=

=Rossetti, Dante Gabriel=, 467, =469=, 506, 515

_Roundabout Papers, The_, 480, 508

=Rowe, Nicholas=, =207=

_Rowley Poems, The_, 313

_Roxana_, 250

Royal Society, the, 219

_Royall King, The_, 129

_Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyâm, The_, 468

_Ruins of Rome, The_, 91

_Ruins of Time, The_, 91

_Rule, Britannia_, 293

_Rural Rides in England_, 435, 440

_Rural Sports_, 262

=Ruskin, John=, =499=, 502, 508, 513–514

=Russell, George=, (‘A. E.’), 520

_Ruth_, 368, 371

=Sackville, Thomas, Earl of Dorset=, Lord Buckhurst, 77, =98=, 144

_Sad Shepherd, The_, 124

_St. Cecilia’s Day, A Song for_ (Dryden), 198

_St. Irvyne_, 393

St. Luke, the Gospel of, 132

_St. Ronan’s Well_, 415

_Saint’s Tragedy, The_, 490

_Saints’ Everlasting Rest, The_, 181

_Saisiaz, La_, 463

_Samson Agonistes_, 166

_Samuel Titmarsh, The History of_, 478–479

_Sandra Belloni (Emilia in England)_, 483

_Sands of Dee, The_, 490

=Sandys, George=, 183

_Sappho_ (A. Philips), 271

_Sartor Resartus_, 494, 495–496

=Sassoon, Siegfried=, 560, 571–572

Satire, the, 195, 196, 214, 266, 437

_Satires_ (Donne), 102

_Satires of Circumstance_, 521, 571

_Satiromastix_, 128

_Saturday Review, The_, 540

_Satyre of the Thrie Estatis, Ane Pleasant_, 59, 82–83

=Savage, Richard=, =263=

_Say not the Struggle Naught Availeth_, 469, 515–516

_Scenes from Clerical Life_, 488

_Schiller, The Life of_, 494

_Scholar-Gipsy, The_, 468

_Scholemaster, The_, 137, 155

_School of Abuse, The_, 90

_School for Scandal, The_, 336, 567–568

_Schoolmistress, The_, 304, 335, 351–352

_Scornful Lady, The_, 127

_Scotland, The History of_ (Robertson), 328

_Scots wha hae_, 311

=Scott, Michael=, =424=

=Scott, Sir Walter=, 205, 337, 340, 364, 365, 367, 384, 396, =410=,
421, 436, 437, 438, 440, 441, 446, 447–448, 474, 497, 557

_Scott, The Life of_, 435, 439

_Scottish Chiefs, The_, 416

_Scottish Historie of James the Fourth, The_, 107

Scottish literature, 33, 58, 90

_Scriblerus, Memoirs of_, 251

=Scudéri, Mademoiselle=, =338=, 339

_Seafarer, The_, 6

_Seasons, The_, 284, 291, 292, 301, 409

_Secret Agent, The_, 528

=Sedley, Sir Charles=, 213, 218

_Sejanus his Fall_, 125

_Sense and Sensibility_, 419

_Sensitive Plant, The_, 395

_Sentimental Journey, A_, 322

_Sentimental Tommy_, 547

_Seraphim, The_, 467

Sermon, the, 180

_Sermons_ (Latimer), 81

_Sermons_ (Tillotson), 212

_Sesame and Lilies_, 500

Sestette, the Romance, 25

=Settle, Elkanah=, =207=

_Seven Lamps of Architecture, The_, 500

_Shadow of the Glen, The_, 548

_Shadow Line, The_, 528

_Shadowy Waters, The_, 559

=Shadwell, Thomas=, 197, =205=

=Shaftesbury, Earl of=, =252=

=Shakespeare, William=, 76, 77, =110=, 151, 157, 199, 202, 206,
285, 374, 417, 459, 569

_Shakespeare_ (Matthew Arnold), 156

_Shakespeare, On_ (Milton), 164

Shakespearian style, the, 120

=Shaw, George Bernard=, 519, =540=, 559, 561

_She Stoops to Conquer_, 295

_She Would if She Could_, 205

=Shelley, Percy Bysshe=, 307, 334, 363, 364, 366, 371, 383, =389=,
396, 436, 437, 439, 443, 449, 462

=Shenstone, William=, =304=, 351–352

_Shepherd’s Calendar, The_, 91, 144, 183

_Shepherd’s Week, The_, 262

=Sheridan, Richard Brinsley=, 336, 547, 567–568

_Shilling for my Thoughts, A_, 549

_Ship of Fools, The_, 65

=Shirley, James=, 180

_Shirley_, 485

_Shoemaker’s Holiday, The_, 128

_Short History of the English People, A_, 504

Short story, the development of the, 557

_Short Studies on Great Subjects_, 503

_Short View of the Profaneness and Immorality of the English
Stage_, 219

_Shortest Way with the Dissenters, The_, 249

_Sibylline Leaves_, 380

_Sicilian Romance, A_, 324

=Sidney, Sir Philip=, 90, 91, =99=, 143, 146, 269, 337

_Siege of Corinth, The_, 384

_Silas Marner_, 488, 523

_Silex Scintillans_, 172

_Silver Box, The_, 547

_Simon Lee_, 374, 566

_Sinister Street_, 539

_Sir Charles Grandison_, 316

_Sir Courtly Nice_, 207

_Sir Ferumbras_, 22

_Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_, 21, 22, 25, 337

_Sir John Chiverton_, 422

_Sir Launcelot Graves_, 321

_Sir Orpheo_, 22

_Sir Patrick Spens_, 48

_Sir Ralph Esher_, 407

_Sir Tristrem_, 22, 25, 28

_Sister Teresa_, 537

_Sisters, The_, 472

=Skelton, John=, =62=, 81–82

=Skeltonics=, 63

_Sketches by Boz_, 473, 474

_Skin Game, The_, 547, 568–569

_Sleeping Beauty, The_, 459

=Smart, Christopher=, =303=, 335

=Smith, Adam=, =332=

=Smith, Horace=, =409=

=Smith, James=, =409=

=Smith, Sydney=, =433=

=Smollett, Tobias=, 303, =321=, 338, 340, 346, 360, 423, 557

_Snare, The_, 560

_Soldier, The_, 554

_Soldiers, Three_, 538

_Soliman and Perseda_, 108

_Solomon_, 261

_Some Reminiscences_ (Conrad), 528

_Song to David, The_, 303

_Song of Honour, The_, 560

_Song for St. Cecilia’s Day, A_ (Dryden), 198

_Song of the Shirt, The_, 409

_Songs of Childhood_, 560

_Songs of Experience_, 314

_Songs of Innocence_, 352–353, 566–567

_Songs of Mourning_, 100

_Songs before Sunrise_, 471–472

_Songs of a Worker_, 472

_Songs to Ælla_, 314

_Songbooks of the War_, 571–572

Sonnet, the English, 91, 96, 99, 104, 112, 113, 143, 144, 372–373;
the Italian, 96, 143, 165

_Sonnet_, by Matthew Arnold, 156;
by Drayton, 152;
by Ernest Myers, 188–189;
by Spenser, 152;
by Surrey, 151;
by Wordsworth, 188

_Sonnets_, Shakespeare’s, 112

_Sonnets from the Portuguese_, 467

_Sophonisba_, 206, 293

_Sordello_, 462

_Soul of a Bishop, The_, 533

_Soul’s Destroyer, The_, 552

=South, Robert=, 181

=Southey, Robert=, 364, 365, 375, 385, =402=, 436, 438, 440

=Southwell, Robert=, 144

_Spanish Ballads_, 434

_Spanish Gipsy, The_, 128

_Spanish Tragedy, The_, 108

_Spectator, The_, 235, 244, 245, 247, 268, 276, 289, 344

_Speculum Meditantis_, 43

=Spencer, Herbert=, 452

=Spenser, Edmund=, 60, =90=, 101, 102, 143, 144, 155–156, 292, 397,
436, 437

_Spenser, Imitation of_ (Keats), 398

Spenserian stanza, the, 94, 292, 304, 335, 398, 405, 436, 437

_Spirit of the Age, The_, 431

_Spirit of Patriotism, Letters on the_, 251

_Spleen, The_, 264

_Splendid Shilling, The_, 270

=Sprat, Thomas=, 219

_Squire of Alsatia, The_, 205

_Squire of Low Degree, The_, 22–23

Standardizing of English, the, 32

=Stanyhurst, Richard=, 142

_Staple of News, The_, 124

_Star Chamber, The_, 422

_Stately Homes of England, The_, 408

_Steel Glass, The_, 99, 144, 151

=Steele, Sir Richard=, 244, =247=, 268, 339, 431

=Stephens, James=, 560

_Steps to the Temple_, 171

_Sterling, John, The Life of_, 494

=Sterne, Laurence=, =322=, 340, 360, 557

=Stevenson, Robert Louis=, =491=, 508, 510

_Stones of Venice, The_, 500, 501

_Story of the Glittering Plain, The_, 471

_Story of Ingelond, The_, 18

_Story of Thebes, The_, 64

_Stafford_, 462

_Strange Story, A_, 426

_Strayed Reveller, The_, 467, 560

_Strew on her Roses, Roses_, 516

_Strife_, 547

=Stubbs, William=, 509

_Studies of the Greek Poets_, 502

_Studies in the History of the Renaissance_, 502

_Sublime and Beautiful, A Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of
our Ideas of the_, 331, 345~346

=Suckling, Sir John=, =173=, 180, 183, 186

_Sullen Lovers, The_, 205

_Sumer is i-cumen in_, 26

_Summer Night, A_, 468

_Summer’s Last Will and Testament_, 107

_Sundering Flood, The_, 471

_Superhuman Antagonists, The_, 551

_Supposes_, 99

=Surrey, Henry Howard, Earl of=, =96=, 143, 150, 151

_Suspiria de Profundis_, 429

_Sweet Content_, 150

_Sweet Lullaby, A_, 155

_Sweet Stay-at-Home_, 552–553

_Swellfoot the Tyrant_, 437

=Swift, Jonathan=, 219, =236=, 243, 245, 262, 270, 272, 278, 279,
318, 343, 365, 545

=Swinburne, Algernon Charles=, =471=, 482, 506, 553

_Switzerland, A History of_, 326

_Swords and Ploughshares_, 554

_Sybil_, 425

_Sylvia and Michael_, 539

_Sylvia Scarlett_, 539

=Symonds, John Addington=, =501=, 508

=Synge, J. M.=, 519, =548=, 568

_Table Talk_ (Coleridge), 381

_Tale of Melibæus, The_, 36, 37

_Tale of a Tub, The_, 239, 270

_Tale of Two Cities, A_, 475

_Tales of Fashionable Life_, 421

_Tales of a Grandfather, The_, 416

_Tales from Shakespeare_, Lamb’s, 427

_Tales in Verse_, 302

_Talisman, The_, 415, 447–448

_Tam o’ Shanter_, 307, 308, 570

_Tamburlaine the Great_ (Marlowe), 109–110

_Tamerlane_ (Rowe), 207

_Taming of the Shrew, The_, 99, 116

_Tancred_, 425, 438

_Task, The_, 300, 335, 352

_Tatler, The_, 244, 247, 268

=Taylor, Jeremy=, 68, =177=, 180, 187

_Tears of the Muses, The_, 91

_Temora_, 313

_Tempest, The_, 117, 122, 151, 569

=Temple, Sir William=, =211=, 219, 236, 238, 269

_Temple, The_, 170

_Temple of Glass, the_, 64

_Tenant of Wildfell Hall, The_, 486

_Tender Husband, The_, 247

=Tennyson, Lord=, 94, 402, 453, =454=, 506, 507, 509, 512

Terror novelists, the, 323–324

_Terza rima_, 96

_Tess of the d’Urbervilles_, 523, 526

_Testament and Compleynt of the Papyngo, The_, 59

_Testament of Cresseid, The_, 60

_Testament of Squyer Meldrum, The_, 59

_Testimony of the Rocks, The_, 505

=Thackeray, William Makepeace=, 453, =478=, 485, 507, 508, 510, 539

_Thalaba the Destroyer_, 403

_Thalia Rediviva_, 172

Theatres, early London, 111

_Theocritus_, 69

_These Twain_, 538

_Thief and the Cordelier, The_, 262

=Thompson, Francis=, =551=, 560

=Thomson James= (1700–48), 284, =291=

_Thorn, The_, 368

_Thoughts on the Present Discontents_, 331

_Three Fishers, The_, 490

_Three Maries, The_, 73–74

_Thrie Estatis, Ane Pleasant Satyre of the_, 59, 82–83

_Thrissill and the Rois, The_, 61

_Thunderstorms_, 552

_Thyestes_, 207

_Thyrsis_, 469

=Tillotson, John=, =212=

_Timbuctoo_, 455

_Time Machine, The_, 532

_Time’s Revenges_, 464

_Times, The_, 365

_Timon of Athens_, 117

_Tinker’s Wedding, The_, 548, 568

_Tintern Abbey_, 448

_Tithonous_, 507

_Titus Andronicus_, 116

_To Althea_, 173, 185

_To Anthea_, 170

_To Chloe_ (Prior), 262

_To his Coy Mistress_, 185

_To Daffodils_ (Herrick), 222

_To Julia_, 170

_To Lucasta, going to the Wars_, 173

_To Mary in Heaven_, 309, 311

_To Milton_ (Wordsworth), 188

_To Spring_ (Surrey), 151

Tolstoy, Leo, 519

_Tom Burke of Ours_, 423

_Tom Cringle’s Log_, 424

_Tom Jones_, 319, 336, 354–355

_Tom Thumb_, 336

_Tono-Bungay_, 532, 534–535

Tonson, Jacob, 235

_Tottel’s Miscellany_, 96, 97, 104

=Tourneur, Cyril=, =129=, 180

_Tower of London, The_, 422

_Town, The_, 407

_Town Mouse and the Country Mouse, The_, 261

_Toxophilus_, 137

Tragedies, early, 77

_Tragedy of Chabot, The_, 127

_Tragic Comedians, The_, 484

_Traveller, The_, 294, 335

_Travels_ (Mandeville), 45–46, 51–52, 153

_Travels with a Donkey_, 491

_Treasure Island_, 491

_Treatise on Human Nature_, 328

_Tremendous Trifles_, 549

_Trials of Margaret Lyndsay, The_, 434

_Tristram of Lyonesse_ (Swinburne), 472

_Tristram Shandy_, 322, 323, 360

_Triumph, The_, 125

_Trivia_, 262

_Troilus and Cressida_ (Chaucer), 34, 40, 58, 60

_Troilus and Cressida_ (Dryden), 201

_Troilus and Cressida_ (Shakespeare), 116

=Trollope, Anthony=, =486=

_Troubles of Queene Elizabeth, The_, 129

_Troublesome Raigne of King John, The_, 77

_Troy Town_, 469

_True-born Englishman, The_, 249

_Trumpet-Major, The_, 523

_Tub, The Tale of a_, 238, 239, 270

_Tunnynge of Elynore Runnynge, The_, 63

Turner, J. M. W., 499, 500

_Twa Meryit Wemen and the Wedo, The_, 61

_Twelfth Night, The_, 116, 121

_Twixt Land and Sea_, 528

_Two Books of Ayres_, 100

_Two Chiefs of Dunboy, The_, 503

_Two Foscari, The_, 387

_Two Gentlemen of Verona, The_, 116, 117

_Two Noble Kinsmen, The_, 117

_Two Paths, The_, 500

_Two on a Tower_, 523

_Two Years Ago_, 489

=Tyndale, William=, 71, 83–84

_Tyrannic Love_, 192, 199

=Udall, Nicholas=, 77, 78, 85–86

_Udolpho, The Mysteries of_, 324

_Ulysses_ (Stephen Phillips), 559

_Ulysses_ (Tennyson), 456, 506, 512

_Unclassed, The_, 536

_Unco Guid, The_, 308

_Uncommercial Traveller, The_, 508

_Under the Greenwood Tree_, 523

_Underwoods_ (Jonson), 125

_Underwoods_ (Stevenson), 492

_Unfortunate Traveller, Jack Wilton, or The_, 107, 146, 338

University Wits, the, 104

_Unnatural Combat, The_, 174

_Unto this Last_, 500

_Up the Rhine_, 408

_Urne Buriall_, 175, 181

=Ussher, James=, =140=

_Utopia_, 69, 135, 146

_Valediction forbidding Mourning, A_, 184–185

_Valenciennes_, 521

_Valerius_, 434

=Vanbrugh, Sir John=, =205=

Vanhomrigh, Esther, 236

_Vanity Fair_, 478, 479

_Vanity of Human Wishes, The_, 288, 355–356

_Vathek_, 324

=Vaughan, Henry=, =171=

_Venice Preserved_, 206, 215, 226–227, 391

_Venus and Adonis_, 112, 144

Vercelli Book, the, 3, 7

_Vers libre_, 560

_Vicar of Wakefield, The_, 296, 340

Vice, the, in early plays, 74

_Victory_, 528

_View of the Evidences of Christianity, A_, 334

_View of the Present State of Ireland, A_, 92

_Village, The_, 282, 302, 335, 356

_Villette_, 485

_Vindication of Natural Society, A_, 330

_Virgidemiarum_, 141

_Virgiles Æneis turned into English Meter, Certain Bokes of_, 97,
150

_Virgin Goddess, The_, 559

_Virgin Martyr, The_, 128, 174

_Virginians, The_, 479

_Virginibus Puerisque_, 491

_Vision of Judgment, The_, 385, 437, 446–447

_Vision of Mirza_, 244

_Vision of William concerning Piers the Plowman, The_, 42, 50

_Vittoria_, 483

_Vivian Grey_, 424

_Volpone, or The Fox_, 124

_Voltaire_, 550

_Vox Clamantis_, 43

_Voyage of the Beagle, The_, 505

_Voyage of Captain Popanilla, The_, 425

_Voyage to Lisbon, A_, 319

=Wace=, 17

_Waggoner, The_, 369

_Waldhere_, 6

=Waller, Edmund=, =183=, 216, 224

=Walpole, Horace=, 298, =323=, 343, 358

Walpole, Sir Robert, 286

_Walpole_, 550

=Walton, Isaac=, 181, 184

_Wanderer, The_ (Old English poem), 6

_Wanderer, The_ (Savage), 263

_Wanderings of Oisin, The_, 555

_Warden, The_, 487

_Watchman, The_, 375, 380

_Water Babies, The_, 490

=Watson, Thomas=, 144

=Watson, Sir William=, =550=, 559

Watts-Dunton, Theodore, 471

_Waverley_, 411, 415, 417–418

_Way of All Flesh, The_, 492

_Way of the World, The_, 203, 204, 215, 567

_Ways to Perfect Religion_, 68

_We are Seven_, 370

_Wealth of Nations, The_, 332, 505

=Webster, John=, =129=, 180

_Wedding, A Ballad upon a_, 186

_Weekly News, The_, 267

_Weir of Hermiston_, 492, 510–511

_Well Beloved, The_, 524

_Well of the Saints, The_, 548

=Wells, H. G.=, =531=, 545, 561

Wessex dialect, the, 3

_Wessex Poems_ (Hardy), 520

_West Wind, Ode to the_, 393

_Westminster Review, The_, 365, 488, 503

_Westward Ho!_, 489

_What d’ye call It?_, 262

_What Every Women Knows_, 548

_When I am Old_, 553

_When the Kye comes Hame_, 407

_Whims and Oddities_, 408

_Whimsicalities_, 409

=White, Gilbert=, =334=, 345, 355

_White Cascade, The_, 553

_White Devil, The_, 129

_White Doe of Rylstone, The_, 369, 371

_White Squall, The_, 480

_Why come ye not to Court?_, 63–64

_Widow in the Bye Street, The_, 552

_Widowers’ Houses_, 541

_Widsith_, 2, 6

_Wife’s Complaint, The_, 6

_Wild Gallant, The_, 199

_Wild Knight, The_, 549

_Wild Swans of Coole, The_, 555

_Wild Wales_, 490

=Wilde, Oscar=, =483=, 546, 559, 565

_Wilhelm Meister_, 493

_Will Waterproof’s Lyrical Monologue_, 460

_William of Palerne_, 22

=Wilson, John=, =433=, 441

=Winchilsea, Lady=, =264=, 266

_Wind among the Reeds, The_, 555

_Window in Thrums, A_, 547

_Windsor Castle_, 422

_Windsor Forest_, 256

_Wine, Water, and Song_, 549

_Winter Night, A_, 312

_Winter’s Tale, The_, 117

_Witch, The_, 128

_Witch of Atlas, The_, 392

_Witch of Edmonton, The_, 128, 174

=Wither, George=, 179

_Within the Tides_, 528

_Woman Killed with Kindnesse, A_, 129

_Woman in the Moon, The_, 105

_Woman in White, The_, 487

_Women beware Women_, 128

_Woodlanders, The_, 523

_Woodstock_, 415

Wordsworth, Dorothy, 366

=Wordsworth, William=, 188, 264, 303, 363, 365, =366=, 375, 376,
377, 379, 410, 436, 437, 562–563, 566

_Wordsworth’s Grave_, 551

_Workers of the Dawn_, 536

_World, A History of the_ (Raleigh), 341

_Worthies of England, The_, 178

_Woundes of Civile War, The_, 107

_Wulf and Eadwacer_, 6

=Wulfstan=, =9=, 12

_Wuthering Heights_, 485

=Wyat, Sir Thomas=, =96=, 143

=Wycherley, William=, =204=, 215

=Wyclif, John=, =46=, 50, 71, 83

_Wynnere and Wastour_, 50

_Yarrow Revisited_, 369

_Ye Banks and Braes_, 308

_Ye Mariners of England_, 405

_Year of Shame, The_, 551

_Yeast_, 489

=Yeats, W. B.=, 519, =555=, 559

_Yellowplush Papers, The_, 478

_You Never Can Tell_, 541

=Young, Edward=, =262=, 270, 278

_Youth_, 527

_Ywain and Gawain_, 22

_Zastorizzi_, 393

=Zola, Emile=, 519, 537

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Coats of mail.

[2] Fire.

[3] king.

[4] rowed.

[5] build.

[6] fine.

[7] birth.

[8] Romans.

[9] loyalty.

[10] peace.

[11] traitor.

[12] hides.

[13] seemliest.

[14] bondage.

[15] lucky.

[16] chance.

[17] I wot, I know.

[18] dirty.

[19] blue.

[20] foaming.

[21] approach.

[22] destroyed.

[23] smell.

[24] cucumbers.

[25] each one.

[26] wonder.

[27] yearned.

[28] Sultan.

[29] any.

[30] raised.

[31] Cheddar.

[32] rain.

[33] suitable.

[34] rocks.

[35] faintness.

[36] seized.

[37] as.

[38] realm.

[39] commenced.

[40] one.

[41] both.

[42] are.

[43] parted.

[44] Dryden wrote before the metrical importance of the final _e_
was understood.

[45] inlaid.

[46] gems.

[47] gleaming.

[48] lily.

[49] frosted.

[50] shivered.

[51] eyes.

[52] hollow.

[53] moisture.

[54] blue.

[55] out over.

[56] gray.

[57] tangled.

[58] attire.

[59] withered dress.

[60] sheaf.

[61] arrows.

[62] feathered.

[63] once.

[64] drawn.

[65] wasteful wants.

[66] cassock.

[67] nonce.

[68] deceiver.

[69] grinned.

[70] groans.

[71] broil.

[72] bear.

[73] blood.

[74] arbor.

[75] living person.

[76] play.

[77] blow.

[78] died.

[79] feeding.

[80] tribute.

[81] slime.

[82] prepare.

[83] _The Shepherd’s Calendar_ (1579).

[84] _Polyolbion_ (1612).

[85] _Tamburlaine_ (1587).

[86] _Love’s Labour’s Lost_ (1594).

[87] _Every Man in his Humour_ (1598).

[88] _Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity_ (1593).

[89] _Essays_ (1597).

[90] _Anatomy of Melancholy_ (1621).

[91] Mammon.

[92] carving.

[93] ore.

[94] hammered.

[95] ingots.

[96] utterly wasted.

[97] peeled.

[98] The passage containing this reference appears on pp. 142–143.

[99] This piece is sometimes ascribed to _William Browne_ (1588–1643.)

[100] Peele.

[101] Nash and Marlowe.

[102] _The Induction_ (1555).

[103] _Tottel’s Miscellany_ (1557).

[104] _The Steel Glass_ (1576).

[105] _The Shepherd’s Calendar_ (1579).

[106] Plutarch’s _Lives_ (1579).

[107] _The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity_ (1593).

[108] _Venus and Adonis_ (1593).

[109] _Essays_ (1597).

[110] _Characters_ (1614).

[111] rejoice.

[112] bride.

[113] bulged.

[114] peel.

[115] The Cave of Despair.

[116] _Poetical Blossoms_ (1633).

[117] _Noble Numbers_ (1647).

[118] _Ode on the Morning of Christ’s Nativity_ (1629).

[119] _Paradise Lost_ (1658).

[120] _Religio Medici_ (1642).

[121] _The History of the Great Rebellion_ (1646).

[122] _Holy Living_ (1650).

[123] _The Leviathan_ (1651).

[124] Of St. Theresa.

[125] _Ode on the Morning of Christ’s Nativity_ (1629).

[126] _Religio Medici_ (1642).

[127] _The History of the Great Rebellion_ (1646).

[128] _Holy Living_ (1650).

[129] _Paradise Lost_ (1658).

[130] _Samson Agonistes_ (1671).

[131] 1802.

[132] _Astræa Redux_ (1660).

[133] _Hudibras_ (1663).

[134] _The Old Bachelor_ (1693).

[135] _The Pilgrim’s Progress_ (1678).

[136] His dedications, etc.

[137] _Religio Laici_ (1682).

[138] _The Hind and the Panther_ (1687).

[139] _Don Sebastian_ (1690).

[140] _Alexander’s Feast_ (1697).

[141] _Fables_ (1700).

[142] _The Rape of the Lock_ (1712).

[143] _The Complaint, or Night Thoughts_ (1742).

[144] _Gulliver’s Travels_ (1726).

[145] _The Spectator_ (1711).

[146] _Robinson Crusoe_ (1719).

[147] Sir Leslie Stephen.

[148] _The Funeral_ (1701).

[149] _The Review_ (1704).

[150] _The Campaign_ (1704).

[151] _The Battle of the Books_ (1704).

[152] _Pastorals_ (1709).

[153] The Coverley essays.

[154] _The Tatler_ (1709).

[155] _An Essay on Criticism_ (1711).

[156] _Cato_ (1713).

[157] _Robinson Crusoe_ (1719).

[158] _Gulliver’s Travels_ (1726).

[159] _The Dunciad_ (1728).

[160] Elkanah Settle (see p. 207).

[161] Lord John Hervey.

[162] _The Seasons_ (1730).

[163] _Elegy written in a Country Churchyard_ (1751).

[164] _Poems_ (Kilmarnock edition, 1786).

[165] _Pamela_ (1740).

[166] _Tom Jones_ (1749).

[167] _The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (1776).

[168] vomited.

[169] Mount Pindus, sacred to the Muses. Hence, a poet’s dream.

[170] That is, “the blind one.” A reference to Milton’s blindness.

[171] share.

[172] rinse.

[173] _London_ (1738).

[174] _Pamela_ (1740).

[175] _Joseph Andrew_ (1742).

[176] _The Castle of Indolence_ (1748).

[177] _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749).

[178] _Irene_ (1749).

[179] _The Rambler_ (1750).

[180] _Elegy written in a Country Churchyard_ (1751).

[181] _Rasselas_ (1759).

[182] _The Rosciad_ (1761).

[183] _The Traveller_ (1764).

[184] _The Vicar of Wakefield_ (1766).

[185] _The Good-natured Man_ (1768).

[186] _The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (1776).

[187] _The Task_ (1785).

[188] The Devil.

[189] going last.

[190] perhaps.

[191] _Lyrical Ballads_ (1798).

[192] _Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage_ (1812).

[193] _Endymion_ (1818).

[194] _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_ (1805).

[195] _Waverley_ (1814).

[196] _Northanger Abbey_ (1798).

[197] _The Confessions of an English Opium-Eater_ (1821).

[198] _Lyrical Ballads_ (1798).

[199] _Northanger Abbey_ (1798).

[200] _The Watchman_ (1796).

[201] _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_ (1805).

[202] _Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage_ (1812).

[203] _Queen Mab_ (1813).

[204] _Waverley_ (1814).

[205] _Manfred_ (1817).

[206] _Endymion_ (1818).

[207] _Biographia Literaria_ (1817).

[208] _Don Juan_ (1819).

[209] _The Cenci_ (1819).

[210] _The Confessions of an English Opium-Eater_ (1821).

[211] _The Essays of Elia_ (1823).

[212] _The Life of Byron_ (1830).

[213] _The Life of Scott_ (1837).

[214] _The Borderers_ (1842).

[215] _Poems_ (1832).

[216] _Pauline_ (1833).

[217] _The Pickwick Papers_ (1836).

[218] _Vanity Fair_ (1847).

[219] _The Ordeal of Richard Feverel_ (1859).

[220] _Sartor Resartus_ (1833).

[221] _Essay on Milton_ (1825).

[222] _The Seven Lamps of Architecture_ (1849).

[223] Such a passage appears on p. 513.

[224] Coleridge.

[225] _Poems_ (1832).

[226] _Poems_ (1833).

[227] _Sartor Resartus_ (1833).

[228] _Pauline_ (1833).

[229] _The Pickwick Papers_ (1836).

[230] _Dramatic Lyrics_ (1842).

[231] _The Memoirs of Barry Lyndon_ (1842).

[232] _Modern Painters_ (1843).

[233] _The Return of the Druses_ (1843).

[234] _The Ordeal of Richard Feverel_ (1859).

[235] _Chastelard_ (1865).

[236] _Queen Mary_ (1875).

[237] An extract will be found on p. 565.

[238] irons.

[239] rope.

[240] mouth.

[241] Poetry

[242] Prose

[243] Stopped.

[244] Loose.

[245] English form.

[246] Italian form.

Transcriber’s Notes:

1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been
corrected silently.

2. Where hyphenation is in doubt, it has been retained as in the
original.

3. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have
been retained as in the original.

4. Italics are shown as _xxx_.

5. Bold print is shown as =xxx=.

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "A History of English literature : A practical text-book" ***

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