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nc
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I
ROYAL CANADIAN SI:RII:S.
ADVANCED READER,
s -i
% s
g -3
s
1
I
TORONTO:
CANADA PUBLISHING COMPANY,
(limited.)
AAlhiA.
Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada in the year 1882 by
the Canada Publishing Company (Limited), in the office of the Minister
of Agriculture.
PREFACE.
In the compilation and construction df the Advanckd
Reader the following objects have been kept in view : —
I. To continue the course of instruction in Reading and Com-
position carried on in the other books of the Series of Royal
Canadian Readers.
To this end, Elocutionary footnotes have been introduced,
and suitable Composition Exercises appended to each set of
selections. These exercises have been supplemented by a
Literary Analysis, one object of which is to apply the laws
of Criticism and Composition, by directing attention to the
means used by each author to secure the various excellen-
cies of his style. In both the Elocutionary footnotes and
the Literary Analysis, frequent reference is made to the Intro-
duction, the first part of which contains a brief statement of
the leading principles of Elocution, and the second, a descrip-
tion of Literature and its Departments, with a concise exposi-
tion of the laws of Style.
II. To develop a taste for Literature, by supplying the student
with a series of interesting studies jrom the works of the best
English, American, and Canadian authors.
The accomplishment of this purpose has necessitated the
insertion of longer select' 3ns than is Ui.aal in books of this
class; but, as care has been taken to secure variety of sub-
jects and of hterary methods, the innovation will be found to
harmonize with the general scheme of the Series. The chief
object of the Literary Analysis is to suggest the proper mode
of study, by developing the peculiarities of each author's
style, and pointing out the beauties, defects, and difficulties of
IV
PRE 1' ACE
the text. As, however, the study of an author word by word
and sentence by sentence has a temlency to contract the
rancje of mental vision, general questions luive been appended
to each set of selections, and most of the Composition exer-
cises nre of such a nature ap to enable the studeni to obtaiki
a connected view of the different parts of the subject.
The Explanatory Notes afford such necessary information
as is not easily obtainable, and supplement the Literary
Analysis in the elucidation of the text. They include also
lists of the best works of reference in connection with each
author and subject.
III. To illustrate the chamctcristicz of the later periods of
English Literature, and to supply an account of the lives and
works of their chief representatives.
In the compilation of the volume, special prominence has
been given to the literature of the eighteenta and nineteenth
centuries, as affording selections of the greatest interest and
least difficulty. For the same reasons, the usual chrono-
logical arrangement has been inverted, and the later authors
are here placed first. The selections represent generally
some phase of style, of thought, or of literary method ; and,
with due regard for the main objects of this member of the
Series, those selections have been preferred which supply
useful information or contain noble thoughts.
The design of the work, however, has rendered it incom-
plete as an exposition of our literary history. It should,
therefore, be studied in connection with the Primer of Eng-
lish Literature, which, with its appendix on Canadian and
American authors, now in preparation, will supply the
unavoidable defects of the Advanced Reader as a Manual
of Literature for Canadian Schools.
Toronto, November, 1882.
1
CON TK NTS,
i
PREFACE .... ...
INTRODUCTION-rART I. -ELOCUTIONARY
" PART II.— LITERARY .
PaOK.
V.
- vi.
xi
iii.
-xxi.
xxii.
-xli.
CANADIAN.
I. DANIEL WILSON.
Bioj^raphical, Works, Critical
(^KNKKAL WOI.FIC AND Ol.D yillCllKC
II. CHARLES SANGliTlCR.
niojrniphical. Works, Critiail .
1. OuK Norland ....
2. The VOLTUlKtJKS of ClIAll-AUlitlAY
III. fH'.ORCiE MUNRO grant.
Biographical, Works, Critical.
The Discoverer of Canada .
IV. CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS.
Biographical, Works, Critical
1. Brother Cu thhert . * .
2. The Mai'LE . . . .
V. GOLDWIN SMITH.
Biographical, Works, Critical .
1. The Battle of Lutzen
2. Character of Cromwell .
VI. JOHN READK.
Biographical, Works, Critical
1. Madeleine de VERCiifeRES .
2. Agricola
1-3
3-12
1J-I4
15-18
l8- 21
22-23
24-32
32-33
33-37
37-38
39-41
41 -4«
49-53
5'
54 - 58
59 - 'Jo
vin.
CONTENTS.
VII. THOS. DARCY McGEE. ''^°''-
Biographical, Works, Critical . . . Ci-64
The Union OF THE Provinces . . .64-76
VIII. THOMAS CHANDLER HALIBURTON.
Biographical, Works, Critical . . . . 77-79
Metaphysics ^„ u,
. yg — oo
IX. CHARLES HEAVYSEGE.
Biographical, Works, Critical . . . . 86-87
1. The Dark Huntsman 88-04
2. Saul and Malzah ... n^ ««
• . • 94-99
X. JOHN W. DAWSON.
Biographical, Works, Critical . . . .100-102
The Laurentian Rocks . , . . 103-114
•it
f
AMERICAN.
I
4
XL H. V^. LONGFELLOW.
Biographical, Works, Critical.
1. The Fasting
2. King Robert of Sicily .
XII. FRANCIS PARKMAN.
Biographical, Works, Critical .
The Discovery of Lake Champlain
XIII. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
Biographical, Works, Critical .
1. Skipper Ireson's Ride .
2. The Bay of Seven Islands
XIV. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.
Biographical, Works, Critical.
Daniel Swan— A Fantasy
XV. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
Biographical, Works, Critical.
1. To a Waterfowl.
2. Thanatopsis
• 115
-116
117
-127
T27
-135
136-
-138
138-
-150
151-
-152
152-
■ 156
156-
■162
163-
164
165-
172
173-
174
175-
176
176-
iSu
CONTENTS.
»x
XVI. WASHINGTON IRVING.
Biographical, Works, Critical
Westminster Abbey .
PAGE
181-183
183-195
ENGLISH.
XVII. TENNYSON.
Biographical , Works^ Critical ....
1. The Passing of Arthur ....
2. Sir G.vlahad
3. "Break, Break, Break"
4. The Eagle— a Fragment ....
XVIII: HUXLEY.
Biographical, Works, Critical.
The Scientific Spirit in Modern Thought.
XIX. BROWNING.
Biographical, Works, Critical.
1. My Last Duchess
2. Hervi5 Riel
XX. CARLYLE.
Biographical, Works, Critical . . . .
1. Friedrich Then an» Now
2. The Taking of the Bastille .
XXI. GEORGE ELIOT.
Biographical, Works, Critical.
"The Key to Human Happiness" .
XXII. DICKENS.
Biographical, Works, Critical. , . ,
A Christmas Carol — Marley's Ghost .
The Last of the Spirits ....
XXIII. THACKERAY.
Biographical, Works, Critical . . . .
Charity and Humor
196- 198
I99-2I.J
215-219
219- 220
220
221 -223
223-233
234-236
237 - 239
240-245
24^) - 249
249 - 256
25G - 262
263 - 265
2G5 - 276
277 - 280
280 - 290
290 - 308
309-312
312-322
XXIV. MACAULAY.
Biographical, Works, Critical .
The Impeachment of Waruen Hastings
323-325
326 - 332
CONTENTS.
PAGE
XXV. WORDSWORTH.
Biographical, Works, Critical ....
1. Ode on the Intimations of Immortality
2. Yarrow Unvisited
3. Sonnets— On Westminster Bridge, The
World's Ravages, and On the Beach at
C^^^^^ 349-350
333 - 336
337 - 346
346-348
XXVI. COLERIDGE.
Biographical, Works, Critical . . .
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner .
XXVII. LAMB.
Biographical, Works, Critical .
Dissertation on Roast Pig
XXVIII. SCOTT.
Biographical, Works, Critical ....
1. Tournament of Ashby-de-la-Zouche
2. Rosabelle ....
11
XXIX. BYRON.
Biographical, Works, Critical.
The Prisoner of Chillon
351-353
353 - 375
376 - 378
378-386
387 - 390
390 - 401
402 - 404
405 - 407
407 - 420
XXX. BURNS.
Biographical, Works, Critical.
1. The Cotter's Saturday Night.
2. To a Mountain Daisy . . . .
3. Robert Bruce's Address to His Army
421-424
424-431
431-433
433
XXXI. COWPER.
Biographical, Works, Critical
1. On the Receipt of My Mother's Picture.
2. To Mary Unwin
434-437
437-441
441
XXXII. BURKE.
Biographical, Work:,, Critical .... 442-445
:. Spirit OF Liberty IN THE American Colonies 445-452
8. "The Age of Chivalry IS Gone" . , 452-455
CONTENTS.
XXXIII. GOLDSMITH.
Biographical, Works, Critical.
The Deserted Village .
XI
MOB
456 - 459
459 - 4^7
XXXIV. POPE.
Biographical, Works, Critical.
Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot
XXXV. ADDISON.
Biographical, Works, Critical.
1. Sir Roger at Church
2. Sir Roger at the Assizes
468-471
472-481
482 - 485
485 - 488
488 - 492
XXXVI. MILTON.
Biographical, Works, Critical . . . . 493 - 496
1. Lycidas 497-503
2. Sonnet— On His Blindness ... 503
XXXVII. SHAKESPEARE.
Biographical, Works. Critical. . . • 504 - 5o8
The Trial Scene— Merchant of Venice . 508 - 520
EXPLANATORY NOTES
521 to end.
INTRODUCTION.
PART I.
ELOCUTION.
The Art of Reading consists in the appropriate utterance of the thoughts
and feelings presented in written language.
The written or printed words are only the signs or symbols of thought
and feeling ; and the best reader is the one who best uses these symbols
to convey to the listener the thoughts and feelings which the words
represent.
Some thoughts are bold, vigorous, and energetic, and show that the
mind is roused. Others indicate that cool, calm, and collected state of the
mind in which it is ready to deal with every-day matters. Again, the mind
may be weighed down by sorrow, animated by joy, or softened by pity.
Each of these states may be expressed by tones of the voice.
Now, it is impossible for a reader to give correct vocal expression to
what he does not clearly understand and appreciate. Hence, he must first
make a thorough study of the ideas and feelings to be expressed. He
must determine —
(i) The general spirit of the selection; that he may know the force of
voice, etc., with which it should be read.
(2) The important indhidnal ideas; that he may know which words need
special force or emphasis.
(3) The relative importance of the different ideas ; that he may be able to
express clearly the exact and full meaning of the author.
The primary requisites of a good reader are : —
I. CLEAR ARTICULATION.
n. CORRECT PRONUNCIATION.
III. CORRECT VOCAL EXPRESSION.
I. CLEAR ARTICULATION.
Many persons acquire, through carelessness, habits of slow and indistinct
articulation, such as mumbling, joining words together, and making unac-
cented syllables almost inaudible. For effective reading, distinct utterance
is, therefore, the first and most important requisite.
XIV
INTRODUCTION— ELOCUTION.
Articulation is effected by the action of the lips, tongue, palate, and jaws.
If these organs do not act promptly and easily, the articulation will be
indistinct and imperfect.
The following exercises will aid in disciplining the muscles used in
articulation, and in accustoming them to energetic action :
1. Pronounce the sound cc, extending the lips as much as possible side-
wise, and showing the tips of the teeth.
2. Pronounce ah, opening the mouth wide.
3. Pronounce 00 (as in cool), contracting the lips. Having uttered the
sounds in this order, Ee—ah — 00, three or four times, rearrange them
t\ms,Ee—oo—ah,Ah—ce—oo,Ah-~oo--cc, Oo—ah~ce, Oo~cc— ah, and utter
them as described above.
4. Pronounce the words stand, strike, halt, hold, forcibly expelling with
each utterance all the air from the lungs.
After having continued this exercise for a short time, take a sentence
and pronounce each word separately, with the utmost precision, exaggerat-
ing, at first, the movement of the lips and jaws. Next, pronounce phrases
in the same way, and finally whole sentences, taking care in every case to
open the mouth and move the lips.
EXAMPLES.
(i) Articulation of single words : —
The— hours— pass— slowly— by,— nine— ten— eleven— how — solemnly—
the —last — strike —of— the— clock — floats —out — upon —the— still— air .
That— lasts— till— night. Neither— sect— nor— schism— shall— divid6—us.
Ignorance— is— not— bliss. The— torrent— rushed —down —the — rocks—
pouring— and— roaring— grumbling— and— rumbling.
(2) Articulation of phrases :
Self-denial and discipline— are the foundation— of all good character,—
the source— of all true enjoyment,— the means— of all just distinction. ' A
correct articulation— is attained chiefly— through the free— and elastic
movement— of the jaw,— tongue, and lips. To gain his ends— he lends—
his utmost strength. This act— more— than all other acts— laid the axe—
at the root — of the evil.
II. CORRECT PRONUNCIATION.
By Pronunciation in its restricted sense is meant the exact employment
in utterance, of the vowel and consonant sounds, and accents, which custom
has established. Authorities differ as to the mode of expressing these
sounds. Care should, therefore, be taken to follow those models which
the best usage has sanctioned.
INTRODUCTION— ELOCUTION.
XV
III. VOCAL EXPRESSION.
The chief elements of Vocal Expression are : -Qnality. Force. Pitch,
Time, Stress, Inflection, Emphasis, and Pause.
I. Quality.
By Quality is meant the tone of voice used in expressing thought and
feeling.
Certain tones are always associated with certain emotions.
There are five qualities of voice used in reading : -Whisper, Pure Tone,
Semi-Tone, Orotund, Basilar.
(a) The Whisper is used to express caution, fear, and secrecy. Horror,
awe, and intense reverence are also expressed by a whisper, but one more
strongly aspirated.
Example —
"Whispering with white lips— "The foe I They come! They comet'"
{b) Pure Tone is that used in common conversation, simple narrative,
description or argument, and in the expression of agreeable ideas, and
tranquil or cheerful feelings. It is the natural tone of tenderness and
compassion.
Example —
" Hail to thee, blithe spirit.
Bird thou never wert.
That from heaven, or near if,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art."
In such a cry as "Boat! ahoy!" we ise what is sometimes called
Mechanical Pure Tone, which consi ts of purest tone, loudest force, highest
pitch, and sustained movement, to carry the voice the greatest distance
with the greatest ease.
(c) The Semi-Tone expresses physical or mental weakness.
Example —
" I fear it is too late, and I shall die."
(d) The Orotund is the pure tone deepened and intensified, sonorous,
round and full, rich and thrilling. It is thus the natural tone for awe,
grandeur, vastness, reverence, deep pathos, and powerful appeals.
Example —
" Suddenly the notes of the deep-laboring organ burst upon the car, falling with doubled
and redoubled intensity, and rolling, as it were, great billows of sound. How well do their
volume and grandeur accord with this mighty building I With what pomp do they swell
through its vast vaults, and breathe their awful liariuony through these caves ol death,
and make the silent sepulchre -ocai ! "
XVI
INTRODUCTION— ELOCUTION.
i\
(e) The Basilar or Guttural Tone indicates the meannesses of human
nature— malice, rage, intense hatred, revenge, and loatliing.
Example —
" On what compulsion nnist I ? Tell me that 1 '
" My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law ;
The penalty and forfeit of my bond."
"Is that the law?"
Few selections can be read throughout with the same quality of voice.
Hence the necessity for the reader to make an analysis of the thoughts
and sentiments, so that he may know when to change the quality of his
voice. He must notice, too, that every quality of voice has its peculiar
possibilities of Force, Pitch, and Time.
2. Force.
Force is the volume or degree of loudness used in reading.
Although the volume of sound may vary from a soft whisper to a shout,
it will be sufficient to make only three degrees of Force— Soft, Moderate,
and Loud.
Soft or Gentle Force is generally used in the expression of pathetic
and subdued feelings— caution, secrecy, awe, pity, and tenderness.
Example —
" My mother ! when I learned that thou wast dead,
Say, wast f hou conscious of the tears I shed ?
Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son.
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ? "
When the mind is unexcited, it expresses itself with Moderate Force.
This, then, will be the prevailing force in unimpassioned discourse, and in
reading narrative, descriptive, or didactic selections.
Example —
" 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 or wished to change his place."
Loud Force is used in powerful appeals, and in the expression of all
violent passions and vehement emotions, such as anger, command, exul-
tation, scorn, and defiance.
Example —
" Fiercely he shouted : ' Bear away.
East-by-north, for Seven Isles Bay.' '
3. Pitch.
Pitch of voice has reference to the degree of elevation in tone. There
are three varieties of pitch— High, Middle, and Low.
INTRODUCTION— ELOCUTION.
xvfi
Hlgfh Pitch is that which rises above the ordinary spoaking tone. It
is the projKir key for stirring description and animated narration, and
for representing elevated feelings and impetuous, impulsive passion, such
as joy, exultation, rage, invective, and eagerness. Selections expressing
tliese admit of the greatest range or compass of voice, and variety in
change of tone.
Example —
" On, " Hampden cried, "for the day is ours.-
Middle Pitch is the key-note in common conversation and in unim-
passioned thought. Language of little or no emotion admits of but a
moderate range of voice.
Example —
" I'ull many a (^um of puiost ray serene,
The dark, unfathomed cave;i of ocean bear ,
Full many a flower i.s born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."
Low Pitch is that which falls below the ordinary speaking tone, and is
the key-note for the expression of sublimity, awe and reverence. Stich
l.inguage admits of less range of voice than the preceding, approaching
in some cases almost to monotone, or entire sameness of tone.
Example —
" So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of deatli,
Thou go not, like tlie quarry-slave at niKht,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and sooUied
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.'
Appropriate variety of pitch on successive viord?. and syllables is one
of the essentials of good reading. We have unconsciously a tendency to
imitate the pitch of sounds that we describe. In nature, high sounds are
usually produced by small objects or by rapid motions ; low, by large
objects or by slow motions.
4. Tim::, or Movement.
The Time that should be given to Pause, to the pronunciation of syl-
lables, and consequently to the entire reading of a piece, must depend
upon the character of the selection.
If the selection be animated or joyous, witty or humorous, it will re-
quire Fast time. Excitement of all kinds, as in joy, impatience, rage,
• --ror, surprise, quickens the pulse and the utterance,
-ixample —
" And there was mounting in hot haste ;
The steed, the mustering squadron, and the cl.ittcring car
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed.
And swiftly forming in the ranks of v.'ar."
xvHi
INTRODUCTION— !■ LOCUTION.
M
H
An equable condition of the mind naturally requires a moderate quick-
ness of utterance. Hence, narrative or descriptive selections should be
read with Moderate time.
Example —
" I.ut not ambition mock their usofitl toil,
Thuir homely joys, ai\(l di'stiny obscure ;
Nor Krandeur hear with a disdainful smile,
The short and simple annals of the poor."
Ilence, grave or
(lentle emotions naturally recjuire slow utterance
pathetic selections will recjuire Slow time.
Example- -
"The curfew tolls the knell of parliiit; day.
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea.
Homeward the ])lout!lunau plods his weary way,
And h,av(!s the world to darkness and to me."
5. Stress.
ff we examine a vowel sound when it is prolonf:;ed, we find the force 01"
degree of loudness varying on different parts. Sometimes, the first part ol
the sound may be loudest, as in the following : —
" It is ! It is the cannon's opening roar 1
Theyi);' .' they tY'Wt'.' they icwi' .' "
Almost unconsciously, in uttering the words camion's, foe, come, we
give greater stress to the initial part of the vowel sound. This is called
Initial Stress.
Some sounds begin gently, increase, and then diminish.
" Tlie curfew M/s the A-nM of partin;,' day,
The iojving herd ivindsslo:^</y o'er the lea."
Here, on the words tolls, knell, loiv'uig, windr. slondy, the voice swells on
the middle of the long sound. This is styled Median Stress.
Some .sounds are loudest at the last part of the vowel sound.
"I'll have my I'ond ; I will not hear thee sfieak :
I'll have my iami ; and therefore speak no more."
" And nearer fast and nearer Aci\\\ tiie red whirlwind come. "
Here, on the words bond, speak, more, nearer, come, the final part of the
vowel sound is loudest. This is called Final or Vanishing Stress.
Abrupt, sudden sounds, represent abrupt, sudden emotions. Anger, for
example, is quick, passionate and explosive. In such cases, Initial Stress
is correct.
Gentle, swelling emotions, such as delight, tranquillity, tenderness, and
sorrow, require Median Stress.
Obstinacy, impatience, scorn, and remorse require Vanishing^ Stress.
*'\
I STRODUCTION— ELOCUTION.
XIX
rate quick-
should be
grave or
10 force or
irst part ol
, come, we
is is called
2 swells on
)art of the
ss.
Anger, for
;ial Stress
rness, and
Stress.
G. Inki.kction .
Inflection is the rise or f.ill of the voice, t»iat occurs on the accented
sylhible of an emphatic word.
There are three inflections: The Rising Inflection, marked thus \ ^ ):
the Falling Inflection (^ ) ; 1 ..e Circumflex ( a v ).
The T'.ising Inflection carries the voice upward from the general pitch,
and suspends it on the highest tone re piired. This is the inflection heard
in a direct question ; " Are yon sure ? "
The Falling Inflection marks a continuous downward slide of the voice.
It ends on a lower pitch than that on which it begins. " NiV I am not
sure."
The Circumflex is a union of the Rising with the Falling Inflection. It
iii always heard when a meaning is intended which the words, taken liter-
.illy, do not convey.
Sometime;: the voice has a continuous, level movement from tone to
tone, sliding neither up nor down. This is called Monotone, and is em-
ployed in reading passages that are solemn or sublime, or that express
awe and reverence.
The tones of animated conversation furnish the best examples of Intlec-
tion. It is a useful exercise for the reader to change each sentence into
colloquial form, to note carefully the various inflections, and to reproduce
them afterwards in his rendering of the selection.
RULES rOK I.NFLKCTION.
(a) The Falling Inflection is employed for positive commands and for
all ideas that are leading, complete, or known.
(b) The Rising Inflection is employed for all ideas that are conditional,
incidental, or incomplete, or for those that are doubtful, uncurtain, or nega-
tive.
(c) Questions for information, or those that can be answered hy yes or
no, require the Rising Inflection ; their answers, when positive, dhe Fall-
ing Inflection.
(d) Questions that cannot be answered by yes or no, of that are ecpiiva-
lent to a positive statement, require the Falling Inflection.
(c) When words or clauses are contrasted or compared, the first part
usually has the Rising, and the last, the Falling Inflection ; but when one
part of the contrast is afiirmed, and the other denied, the latter has the
Rising Inflection.
(f) The Circumflex is used when the oughts are not sincere, but are
e.nployed in jest, irony, double meaning, ridicule, sarcasm, or mockery.
XX
INTRODUCTION-ELOCUTION.
I. I I:
EXAMPLES OF INFLECTION.
" The cnrfew tolls the knell of partinK day,
The lowing herd winds slowly '"cr the >ca "
" Near yonder copse, where once the Midcn smiled,
And still where many a K'ardcn flower Krows wilTt,
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
The village preacher's modest mansion rose."
" Will you ride in the carriaKC, or on horseback ? '
" I prefer to wal\."
" Do you study German or French ? "
" Do you study ('.('rman or I'reiicu t
" When are you (^oing to the country r
" The quality of mercy is not strained ;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place benJiith. It is twice blessed :
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."
" What should I .^ly to you ? Should I not say,
Hath a dog money ? Is it possible
A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? "
7. Emphasis.
Emphasis is that forrr of voice by which certain words in a sentence
ar- distinguished above the riiit .
Just as we accent ce ...: ^v 1. s of a w - \ .so we emphasize the im-
portant words of a sentenco. If equal emphasis is placed on every word,
the reading becomes monotonous.
RULES FOR EMPHASIS.
(a) Peculiarly significant or important words and phrases are em-
phatic.
fb) Antithetical words and phrases are emphatic.
W) Words and phrases expressing new ideas take the highest degree
of emphasis, but those referring to ideas already suggested or expressed
are relatively unemphatic.
EXAMPLES.
" At church, with meek and unaffected grace.
His looks adorned the venerable place ;
Truth from his lips prevailed with doiiilc sway.
And /00/s who came to sco# remained to /jni^."
" The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as, the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed :
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes.
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest."
INTRODUCTION ELOCUTION .
xu
in a sentence
tiasize the im-
jn every word,
rases are em-
highest degree
id or expressed
with
ind
8. Pause.
" A pause is often more eloquent than words."
Pauses arc of two kinds : Grammitical and Rhetorical.
Grammatical. —This pause is founded upon the grani^ ilical "scture of
the sentence, and is indicated by the punctuation mai K It is . idiessf'd
to the eye, and may or may not r quire to be used as a rest for the voice
Rhetorical.— This is wholly dey-ndent upon the sense ; and. w ' '' "est-
ing the voice of the reader, is addi -ssnd to the car of the 'istener.
The frequency, as well as t'u! dui ition, of rhetoric.il parses, vai
the character of the subject, and nust be determined by the i.
feeling of the reader. A few rules, 1 owever, are subjoined :
A Pause is required —
(a) Between the subject and the predicate :
" The quality of mercy— is \v< strained."
(b) After an inverted part of a sentence :
" Wherein dotii sit— the dread iid fear of kings."
(c) Before and after every parentheti and every qualifying clause :
" Even at the base of Pompey'- statue --
(Which all the while ran blo<vi) -Great C-osar fell."
(d) Before and after every strongly ei phasized word or clause:
" But mercy— is above— this see, red sway ;—
It is enthroned— in the hearts- f kings-
It is an attribute— of God— Him «lf I "
(e) When an ellipsis occurs :
" One— to her cottage earth,
And one— to his sail s berth."
(f) To arrest attention :
" Cuthberf, open ; let n.e in ! "
{g) Between nouns in apposition ;
"John Robison— a young midshipman— was in he same boat with the General."
9. Different Classes of Ideas and thkir Vocal Requirements.
(rt) Unemotional or matter of fact, v.l ther didactic, narrative, or
descriptive ; —
Pure quality, 'erate force, middle pitch, moderate time, initial but
not strongly markv stress, short slides.
(i) Bold, including declamatory pieces and very emphatic passages in
class (a) ; —
Pure or orotund quality, high pitch, moderate or fast time, loud force,
initial or median stress, falling slides.
(<;) Animated or joyous, including all lively, happy, or beautiful ide.is; —
Pure quality, fast time, high or middle pitch, moderate or loud force,
often median stress, long r^lides.
xxu
INTRODUCTION-ELOCUTION.
'P
{d) Subdued or pathetic, including all gentle, tender, or sad ideas;—
Pure quality, sometimes whisper or semi-tone, gentle force, moderate or
slow time, low pitch, median stress, short slides.
(e) Noble, including all ideas that are grand, heroic, or sublime;—
Orotund or pure quality, varied force, pitch, and time, median stress
moderate slides. '
(/) Grave, including the deep feelings of solemnity and reverence;—
Pure or orotund quality, slight or moderate force, low pitch, slow time
median stress. '
{g) Ludicrous or sarcastic, including jest, raillery, ridicule, mockerv,
irony, scorn, and contempt ; —
Varied quahty, force, pitch, and time, initial stress, long slides.
(//) Impassioned, including all very loud pieces, and the violent passions
of anger, defiance, and revenge; —
Pure, guttural, or aspirated quality, loud force, high pitch, varied
generally quick time, varied stress.
SUGGESTIONS TO THE TEACHER.
The following exercises are recommended as helps for developing and
improving the voice : —
1. Breathing deeply and slowly, rapidly, and explosively.
2. Reading in a loud, distinct whisper.
3. Reading alternately slowly and rapidly, in a high and in a low tone,
with a gentle and with a heavy voice.
4. Increasing and diminishing in force alternately.
SPECIFICS.
1. To strengthen the voice, use loud, explosive exercises.
2. To make enunciation distinct, use the whisper.
3. To make the voice smooth, practise exercises with median stre: ;s and
slow time.
4. To make the voice flexible, read rapidly.
las; —
lerate or
n stress,
ce; —
•w time,
lockery,
>assions
varied,
ng and
V tone,
INTRODUCTION.
>s and
PART II.
LITERATURE.
LITERATURE AND ITS DEPARTMENTS.
1. By Literature we mean the thoughts and feelings of intelligent men
and women expressed in writing in such a way as to give pleasure to the
reader, no*: merely by the things said, but by the artistic way in which
they are said.
When a writer describes what is outside of his mind and is the object of
his attention, the mode of treatment is objective ; when he deals with the
thoughts and feelings suggested to his mind by outward objects, it is
subjective. When Goldsmith describes the appearance of the village of
Auburn, his writing is objective; when he gives his thoughts and feelings
caused by what he sees it is subjective.
2. As regards Form, Literature is divided into two classes — Prose, and
Verse or Poetry. Poetry possesses a measured structure called Metre
(9, III.) ; Prose includes all literature not in metre.
3. As regards Matter, Literature is divided into five classes— Descrip-
tion, Narration, Exposition, Oratory, and Poetry. The same composition,
however, may exemplify two or more of these modes of expression.
i. Description is the delineation of the characteristics of any
object by means of words.
II. Narration is the statement of the particulars of any event or
of any scries of events.
III. Exposition includes all means of explaining or representing
general propositions. The four leading methods of expounding
a general principle or proposition axe— Iteration, or repeating the
statement of the principle in the same or in different words;
Obverse Iteration, or the denial of the contrary; Examples, or Par-
ticular Instances ; and Illustrations, or Comparison.
IV. Oratory is composition which influences men's conduct or
belief. It may be intended simply to persuade; but this object may
be combined with others. In criticising oratory, the chief points to
consider are the orator's knowledge of, and power of adapting him-
self to, the persons he addresses, his happy turns of expression, his
XXIV
INTRODUCTION-LITERATURE.
[3, IV.
mi
stitutcs the^'ifferencel form • H •i;'"^' ''''''''''' ^^^'^^^ -""
of the language^nSry - "°""^' ''^" "" ''^^^'"^' Peculiarities
I. It is archaic and non-colloqiiial. Th. ase of olrl nnri ^f
words raises its language above the level of prose "'"''
place ones; and prefers vvnrd« fhof i, '"^'f^a ot long, common-
that are les's euphontus. (See Abbo'rand tT"^' ^f ^° ^hose
for English People.) ^ ^"'^ Seeleys£„^;/,A Lessons
D^c^cr^n^lnf "^'^^^ ^^"^'^^ °^ poetry-Epic. Lyric. Dramatic.
of Epic Poetry are— scenery, etc. The leading varieties
toconT''?;'nt^1^t7o'"? ^T"^^""' '^'"^^ are introduced
^ ^""'' ^/^«^- -^ii!., pp. 159-160.)
[3, IV.
aying upon
by means
n a special
vhich con-
assessing a
and more
es applied
iguage are
culiarities
)f unusual
ges to the
3 epithets
ry avoids
ibstitutes
common-
l to those
k Lessons
'ramatic,
its com-
varieties
reduced
iction — •
03-105.)
1 intro-
beings,
le of its
4,1.]
INTRODUCTIOl^—I-rTRRA TURE.
XXV
i—e
g-
dity in
merely
Scott's
ic pur-
tvith a
—e.g.,
)
7. The Pastoral, Idyll, etc. This division includes all other
poems which have enough traces of narrative to bring them under
the Epic class, and are distinguished by the predominance of poetic
descriptions of manners or of external nature.
§ II. Lyric or Subjective Toetry is the expression of some intense fooling,
passion, emotion, or sentiment. The leading varieties of lyric poetry
arc as follows : —
1. The Song, which is usually short, simple in measure, and
broken up into stanzas, each complete in moaning, yet occupying a
proper place in the development of the whole. There are many
varieties of the song— e.g., The Love Song, The Drinking Song, etc.
2. The Ode, which is the loftiest utterance of intense feeling, and
is remarkable for its elaborate versification— eg-., Wordsworth's Ode
on the Intimations of Immortality.
3. The Elegy, now connected chiefly with the impassioned ex-
pression of regret for the departed— ^.^., Gray's Elegy and Milton's
Lycidas
4. The Sonnet, which is sometimes descriptive, but is generally
a concentrated expression of a single phase of feeling — e.g., Words-
worth's Sonnet on Westminster Bridge.
5. The Dramatic Lyric, in which a person i represented as ex-
pressing his thoughts and feelings in such a way as to develop his
own characteristics and occasionally even the characteristics of some
one else, and to indicate with dramatic effect (4, III.) his own or
another's actions and surroundings — e.g., Roberts' Brother Cnthbert.
For further explanations, see p. 236, 11. 76-S5.
6. The Simple Lyric, which comprehends all other kinds of sub-
jective poetry.
III. Dramatic Poetry is a picture of life adapted to representation on
the stage, and consists of an impersonal representation by the author of
an animated conversation of various individuals, from whose speech the
movement of the story is to be gathered. Its two chief varieties are
Tragedy and Comedy.
1. Tragedy is defined by Aristotle as "the representation of a
completed action, commanding or illustrious in its character; the
language being poetically pleasing; and with the moral effect of
purifying the passions, generally by means of the two special pas-
sions — pity and fear, " — e.g., Heavysege's Saul. But this definition
applies only to the highest form of tragedy. The more moderate
form, w^hile retaining tragic elements, permits happy conclusions.
2. Comedy is the adaptation of the dramatic form to yield the
pleasures of the ludicrous (13, II., 3) in conjunction with as many
other pleasing effects as will harmonize with this quality. Comedv
endeavors to produce amusement mainly — e.g., Shakespeare's Mtr-
chant of Venice.
XXVI
INT ROD UCTIQN—L TTERA TURE.
[4, IV.
IV. Didactic Poetry seeks to teach some moral, philosophical, or literary
truth. It aims to instruct rather than to please-.-.^., Goldsmith's Deserted
Village.
V. Satiric Poetry holds up to ridicule, or rebukes with severity, the
weaknesses, follies, or wickedness of men— ^.g-., Pope's Ephtle to Arbuthnot.
1!
VERSIFICATION.
5. Verse is that species of composition in which the words are arranged
in Imes, each of which contains a defmite number and succession of
accented and unaccented syllables. In its restricted sense it signifies a
single line of poetry.
A stanza consists of a number of lines forming a division of a poem
Sometimes, especially in the case of sacred music, the word verse is used
for stanza.
Verse is of two kinds— Rhymed and Blank Verse.
I. Rhyme is a similarity of sound at the end of words The
rhyming syllables should be accented. The three essentials of a
perfect rhyme are: (i) That the vowels be alike in sound; (2) the
consonants before the vowels, unlike in sound ; and {3) the conso-
nants after the vowels, alike in sound. When, however, the vowel
sounds merely resemble one another, the rhyme is Admissible, if
the other conditions of a perfect rhyme are satisfied. If the vowel
sounds only are alike, we have Assonance. When the rhyme
occurs at the end of two successive lines, they are called a Couplet'
•. 'hen at the end of three, a Triplet. '
II. Blank Verse consists of unrhymed lines, and is generally
Iambic Pentameter (9, HI., i and 2). It is the most elevated of all
measures, and is the only form in which Epic poetry should appear.
6. Rhythm is the recurrence, at regular intervals of duration, of the stress
thrown on the pronunciation of a syllable. This stress is called Accent.
The Greeks and Romans used Quantity, or the length or shortness of a
vowel, as the basis of their verse. All other European nations have based
theirs on accent. Quantity is used in English verse chiefly to produce
Imitative Harmony. (12, IV., 4, and 13, III., 2.)
7. Alliteration is similarity of sound at or near the beginning of con-
secutive or clo.sely connected words-..^-,, "Up the high /all he heaved a
huge round stone." It adds to the pleasurable effect of poetry but
should be used with skill and in moderation. In prose it is admis-
sible, if the language and thought are of a poetical character; otherwise
Its occurrence is a blemish, and should be carefully avoided Allitera
tion is often subtly concealed owing to the separation of the words in
which It occurs, or to the use, not of the same letters, but of the same
order of letters. It may also occur, not in the initial, but in the middle
7.]
INT ROD UCTION—LITEKA TURE,
xxvu
The fol-
syllables of words. This is known as Concealed Alliteration,
lowing examples illustrate these methods; —
(i) The /nil s/rcanis/eed onyZower of f'ushes,
Kipe fi->-asses <ramiiiel a fravellint^/oot ;
The /aint /resh y/aine of the ^oiiiig rear //ushes
From /eaf to//ower, andy/ower to/ruit.
(2) Fwrn the/u//-^owercd Le/antian pasturage
To what of />'uit/ui/(el<l the son of Zous
Won/roin the roaring river and /a6oring sea.
8. A Foot is a syllable, or a succession of two or more syllables, one of
which must be accented, assumed as the basis of a line of poetry. Mono-
syllabic feet, though rare, sometimes occur in English— f.j?-., in Tennyson's
"Break, Break, Break." The feet commonly used in our verse are dis-
syllabic or trisyllabic. The following are the principal varieties in use.
X in the verse formula indicating the unaccented, and a the accented,
syllable : —
Dissyllabic.
> r
I. Iambus. Accenton the second syllable— r. 5'., Begone, xa.
r >
II. Trochee. Accent on the first syllable— (.g-., Dungeon, ax.
III. Spondee. Accent on both syllables— Sunbeam, aa.
Trisyllabic.
> > r
IV. Anapaest. Accenton the third syllable— t-.g-.. Colonnade, xxa.
V. Dactyl. Accent on the first syllable — e.g., Merrily, axx.
VI. Amphibrach. Accent on the second syllable — e.g., Receivmg.
xax.
9. I. A Line is a succession or combination of feet, generally contain-
ing a fixed number of syllables, and having, as a rule, a regular recur-
r ence of accents.
II. A Hemistich is half a line.
III. Metre, or Measure, is applied to the structure of the lines which
form a poem or part of a poem, and their relation to one another as regards
ihyme, length and arrangement. English metres are very numerous.
The following classification includes the chief varieties; —
I. FROM KIND OF FOOT,
(a) Iambic; (/)) Trochaic; (<-) Spondaic; (</) Anapaestic; (e)
Dactylic; (/) Amphibrachic.
2. FROM NUMBER OF FEET.
{o) Monometer, one foot ; (i) Dimeter, two feet ; U-) Trimeter,
three; (</) Tetrameter, four; (<•) Pentameter, five; (/) Hexameter,
six; (g) Heptameter, seven; (/») Octometer, eight.
xxviii
INTRODUCTION-LITERATURE.
:l!)f
ni
i 4
[9, III.
In describing metre, these systems of nomenclature are combined :
"Shall burning .Etna, if a sa-o requires,
, ^°''e<^' »° thunder, and recall her fires ? "
voice belong ,o verse-.h/rLl L .rSS' "■'P""'"'"' "^ ">■>
pause must also be a Sense pause-..^. f ^^^ ^'''"'"^^
Can stoned urn || or animated bust
Back to its mansion i| call the Meeting breath ?
Can Honor s voice || provoke the silent dust
Or flattery || soothe the dull, cold ear of Death ?
A great many irregularities occur in English verse Thn=. • .u-
volume, not referred to above are inr1,Vaf„^ ■ 1 ^°^° '" *hjs
in which they occur. ^''"^ '" '^" "°'^^ '° ^^e selections
STYLE AND ITS ANALYSIS.
11. Style is the peculiar mode in which -i writ^-
IS the a-t of choosing words settinl .h? expresses himself; it
tences in paragraph!. ^ ""^ '"^ ''"'^"^^^' ^"^ ^rvs..mg sen-
Although every writer has his peculiarities therP r,r»
distinctive features on which can bf based rcTa^sfficationVstX.'^^^^^^
I. On the Prevalence of Figurative Language
The ?SMl'r''"5f '■'''''"■^ °'"""'"^"* °f «^-y kind.
briltaSr^c,;:.""'""'" "°™™"' ''"• ""' "-= of an elevated or
.oliufy'"^""' 3.y,ee,nploys judiciously every ornament .ha. conduces
anS'^rTSlanr'' °' """""'' ^'>'= '' "^ *=' -<>*- ^ iuxuri-
II. On the Structure of Sentences.
The Simple s.yle bears no mnrks of nrt h„t ~- . , ,
everyone would naturally use. °' '° '' "" '^"Suage
II:
11, XL]
lyfTRODUCriO^-LITERATURE.
XXIX
The Labored style is the reverse of the Shnple. It shows effort on
the part of the writer, and is characterized by affectation, a tonstrainud
tone, and long, involved sentences.
III. On the Number of Words.
The Concise or Terse style rejects as unnecessary everything not
material to the sense, and aims at the briefest possible mode of expression.
The Diffuse or Verbose style employs amplification, endeavors by
repetition to secure perspicuity, and attempts to make up by copiousness
for lack of strength.
IV. On Strength.
The Nervous style is that which produces a strong impression on the
reader. For other names for this species, see (13, II., i).
The Feeble style is the reverse of the preceding, and produces but a
slight impression upon the reader.
V. On the Prevailing Figures of Speech.
A composition which abounds in any one figure is often described by
that figure; thus we soeak of a style as being Sarcastic, Antithetical,
Ironical, etc.
For classification based on character of sentence, see f 12, II., i).
THE ELEMENTS AND QUALITIES OF STYLE.
12. The Elements of style are Vocabulary, Sentence, Paragraphs, and
Figures of Speech. Associated with these is the consideration of the
number and order of the words.
The Elements of Style.
I. Vocabulary.— The first requisite of an author is good command
of language. In criticising style under this head, the following are the
important considerations : —
a. Extent.— Authors differ greatly in copiousness. Few can
write freely and eloquently on all subjects. Most have one vein in
which they excel. Frequent repetitions of the same words or phrases
is an unmistakable indication of poverty of language. Variety being
a source of pleasure, a good writer varies his language as far as is
consistent with elegance, simplicity and clearness.
h. Aptness. — Although many writers and speakers have a copious
vocabulary, they do not always use the proper word to express* heir
meaning. Fitness of language is one of the best proofs of an author's
culture. Sec (13, I., i, c), and (12, V., i, a, i).
c. Purity.— Stv (13, I., 1).
IL Sentence. — A knowledge of the proper mode of constructing sen-
tences is one of the most important of a writer's qualifications. A great
many forms of sentences are possible; but there are certain chief types.
XXX
'^^^ODUCTION^LITEIUTUKI..
fl2. II.
1- Special Artifices of Construction-
suspense till tl,e sentence is finished U . " " '^'""'"=* '"
the end. the preceding part does nnt' f ''" ''"^ '"^^'^"^^ ^'^°'^
quently does not convey , comni . , "" f '""''^"^''" '-^"^^ ^°n«e-
e«bct of the Periodic LLcTs to k "1 ""''^^ """"'"^'- '^'-
uniform or increasing tension 'mil ^^ ^ "" ' '" ^ '^"^^^ °^
the rich and on thfw> '''"^ ''' reached-r./r . ..Qn
looked down .°th con^XT " ■ "" ""'^^^ ^"^' ^^"^"^^^- ^'^ ^'""tan^
without destroying the sense Th^! ■ \u ^'''"'' "''''>' '^'-' ««Parated
sentence in Englifh4 1 ■ The P '^ ''^ T'"'"^' ^'^"-'"^- "f the
tempt on the rich and titeeloauenf T ^^ '"''' '^°'"" ^^''^ con-
Very freauenflv a T '"°'l"''"t, on nobles and priests "
structure""'" ' ^^"'^"^^^ -'"^"-- the loose Ld the periodic
length^:?rhrsentnt° i^^^^ °^ ^^°^-^'- ^^i-t-ent of the
but no definite h^l can be asSr^A^'^''"'^"'/'" ^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^^
lo"g or short sentences Sou d be ^ ."7*""^'^^' ^'^"^^ ^^ ^''her
much variety as possible See (x' ult) ' '°°' ""'^^ "^^^ ^^
Clauses, and .oving^on . Srel! ::tTl-;^^^^ ^^^ °^
wH?n^ab1Sres::e;-L- .^^^^^^^^ ^s often used
writers, as Macaulay.VstZa'ic.lK h"\" *° ^' ''"'^^^*^^- Some
into their constituen parts and ^^ ^T "^ ^°"^' ^°°^« ^^ntences
tences. This artifice ghes an^mat^ "^"1'' ^'^"^ ^' ^^P^^ate sen-
- The Balanced s'entenc ^ C ^^^^^^ ^- (^3. I. x).
compound sentence are made simihr^- I ^^^f'"' '^^^"^^^ of a
Balanced-.^... .-Homer hurr e^us^^^th * *''" ^^^ ^^'^ *° ^«
in conjunction with AmTther^n?" °' ''f ""^^^""^ ^-^ence.
33 and 38). constitutes the P^iedS^ '"' ^''"^^ (-■ ^V.. S.'
dera^^rXSLX^^^^^^^^^^^^ to the prepon-
and Pointed structures a^often us d ^^ ,^"' *'« ^^^"^^ic, Abrupt.
d- The Condensed sentenr,-. u '^""^ P<^ragraph.
unusual construction- ".• Brutus" 'r"''?'' ^>' ^ ^^^^ and
-'•ship.- This was a favontetpe ^Z Te "''' ^'"^^'^^ ^"^ ^^e con
IS now generally t.s.d to prcdurro "''^ '"'*'' ^'^bon, but it
If i
12. II.J
INTROD UCTIOI^—LirERA TURE.
XXX
2. General considerations —
a. Emphatic places in a Sentence.— When a writer desires to
},'lve special prominence to a word, he places it at the beginning or
the end of his sentence. The former position excites the attention,
and on the latter it rests.
' h. Unity of a Sentence.— The effect of the main statement in a
sentence should not be lessened by the introduction of particulars
not immediately relevant. All parts of the sentence should be kept
in connection with, and logically subordinate to, the principal
thought. Hence the necessity to change the subject as little as
possible, to avoid crowding a sentence with too much matter, and
to eschew the use of parenthetic clauses,
III. The Paragraph is a connected series of sentences relating to the
same subject and forming a constituent part of a composition. Between
paragraphs there are greater breaks than between sentences. The follow-
ing are the principles which govern the construction of paragraphs: —
1. Explicit reference.— The bearing of each sentence on what
precedes should be explicit and unmistakable.
2. Parallel constructions. — When several consecutive sentences
repeat or illustrate the same idea or make a contrast in reference
to the same subject, they should, as far as possible, be formed alike.
3. The opening sentence, unless so constructed as to be obviously
preparatory, should indicate with prominence the subject of the
paragraph.
4. Continuity. — The sentences in a paragraph should be so ar-
ranged as to carry the line of thought naturally and suggestively
from one to another.
5. Unity. — A paragraph should possess unity, which implies that
the sentences composing it should relate to one definite division of
the subject which they illustrate or explain. Unity forbids digres-
sions or the introduction of irrelevant matter.
6. Proportion. — It is a maxim in Style that every thought or
idea should have prominence and expansion according to its im-
portance : hence in a paragraph a due proportion should be main-
tained between the main subject and the subordinate parts.
7. Transition. — One of the most important arts in composition
is the art of transition, that is, passing from one paragraph to
another. The modes used by different writers are various. The
thoughts in one paragraph should grow naturally out of those in
the preceding one. The association of ideas should be as perfect as
possible.
IV. Figures of Speech. — These are intentional deviations from
the ordinary spelling, form, construction, or application of woi Is. The
last class, which are known as Figures of Rhetoric, are the most impor-
tant. They dignify style, enrich it by increasing its facilities of expres-
!f
»>"■" "iTRODUCTlON-UTI-KATURi;. /jg ly
I. Metonymy puts one word for another; as the ciuse for th.
effect or the effect for the cause; the couta ner f .th thinrcon
ta.ned;^the s.gn for the thin, signified; or the abstra^; ;o^^;;:;
(hay hain for old aire; bo J!: for inloxicatinfr ,irhk ■ urNre for
roynity: beauty and ehivalry fo. ,eaufi/ul wo.neLn.l ta^^t^l
2. Metaphor. -A comparison implied in the laneuaee used u
a transference of .he relat.or. between one set ofXr o an
other, for the purpose of brief explanation. ^
" He bridles his anger."
" He res-rains his anger, as a rider bridles his horsj."
J\ yv!^'?*""^ description in strong and lively colors so that the
past, the distant, and the future are represented as present.
" Even now, metiiinks, as .,ondering here I sta,.d.
/ see the rural virtues leave the land."
phras?T'o3'of ", ^™J*"*"' Harmony.-The use of a word or
signified corresponds with, or resembles, the thing
" Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows
And the smooth stream in smoother nmnbers flows ■
nut when loud surges lash the sounding shore, '
The hoarse rough verse should lil<e the torrent roar • '
When Ajax strives some rock's vast weigh, to throw
Tlie line too labors and the wonis move slow •
Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain '
Fhes o'er the unbending corn and skims along the main."
to e"xp^resTt?e"';7nI'' T'"'""'"' °' """"^ ^^°^'^ ^^^ -« "----'•y
K. .n.? ? 1 enumeration of particulars, which mic^ht
be included in one general term, although not necessary to the
sense. IS ii^^ol^ectionable, provided em;hasis is SS."(^t:
" He went home full of a great many serious reflections."
ne!es!arno'a~fIn!n7""T '" '"^ ^^"*«"- ^' -'- -rd or words
necessary to a lull and regular construction.
Homer was the greater genius; Virgil the hottP,- nw . • .
adtnircthoman; in the other, the wo. k! ' '" ""= "'"^ """ "'"^'
7. Hyperbaton.-The transposition of word, nnt of th.ir n.tur-,1
and grammatical order. ' natural
" What shall wo say. since silent now is he ?
im^f^^m^»fyaK»^-
'3^:s.-<?s{i»teKi^.-st
INrRODUCTTCN— LITERATURE.
xxxili
12. IV.l
8. Antithesis.— The st.-itement of a contrast, or tlio opposition of
thoughts antl ideas.
" III peace there's uothinji so bcconus .i iii.in
As milii behavior ami humility ;
But when the blast ol u .ir blows in our cars,
Let us bo liners in our fierce deportment."
g. Simile formally likens one thing to another.
" Jliin, lilir the working bee in hlnmwi dust,
bUucheil with his mill they found."
10. Polysyndeton.— The repetition for effect, of conjunctions,
otherwise unnecessary. See (13, II., i, ij).
"All that is little and low and mo.in amon^; us."
11. Asyndeton. -r-The omission lor effect, of ronjunctions, other-
wise necessary. See (13, II., 1, 13).
" The wind passeth over it— it is gone."
12. Anacoluthon.— .\ want of harmony in the grammatical con-
struction of the dillerent parts of a sentence.
" What shall we say, since silent now is he,
Who when he spoke, all tkinf;s would site.it be?"
13. Irony expresses a meaning contrary to that conveyed l)y the
speaker's words.
" No doubt but ye arc the people, and wisdom will dio wi'.li you."
14. Allusion occurs when a word or ^jhrase in a sentence, by
means of some similitude, calls to mind something which is not
mentioned.
' It may be said of him that he came, he saw, he conquered."
15. Ecphonesis.— An animated or passionate exclamation. It is
generally indicated by the interjections O! Oh! Ah! Alas!
" O my soul's joy,
If after every teinpi^st come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have wakened death."
if). Aparithraesis. — An enumeration of particulars for the sake of
emphasis.
" Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shad< s of death."
17. Transferred Epithet. — The removing of an epithet from its
proper subject to some allied subject or circumstance.
" Hence to his iUle bed."
18. Erotesis. — An animated or passionate interrogation.
•' What, Tubero, did that naked sword of yours mean in the battle of Pharsalla?
At whose breast was it aimed ? "
19. Antonomasia puis a proper name for a common name, or a
common name for a proper name ; or an office, profession or science
instead of the true name of a person.
Solomon lor a wise man. Croesus for a rich man, Galileo, the Columbus of the
heaveus.
- !■■
™
II
XXXIV
INTRODUCTION -LITERATURE.
[12, IV.
20. Epizeuxis.— The; immediate repetition of some word or words
for the sake of emphasis
"Arm! Arm I it is— it is— the cannon's opening roar."
21 Personification represents inanimate objects and abstract
ideas as living.
"The mountains Sims' together, the hills rtjoice anil clap hands."
22. Anadiplosis.— The use of the same word or words at the
end of one sentence, or of one clause of a sentence, and at the
beginning of the next.
" Has ho taste for blood ? Blood shall fill his cup."
23. Anaphora.— The repetition of a word or phrase at the begin-
ning of several sentences, or of several clauses of a sentence.
"By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed,
By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed,
By foreign hands thy humble Kiave adorned.
By strangers honored, and by strangers mourned."
24. Oxymoron.— An antithesis arising from the opposition of two
contradictory terms.
" Thus idly busy rolls their life away."
25. Epiphora.— The repetition of a word or phrase at the end of
each of several sentences, or clauses of a sentence.
" Are you delighted with literature, who hate the foundation of sU literature ? "
26. Paronomasia and Antanadasis.— A play upon words. The
same word is used in different senses, or words similar in sound
are set in opposition to each other. Paronomasia is by some
restricted to proper nouns, and Antanadasis to common nouns.
" And brought into this world a world of woe."
27. Antistrophe.— An alternate conversion of the same words in
different -.tences.
" Your servant, cir." " Sir, your servant."
In a more extended sense it is applied to the inversion in one sen-
tence, of the order of the words in that which precedes it.
28. Prosthesis.— An etymological figure by which a letter or
syllable is put at the beginning of a word.
"^down."
29. Anacoenosis.— By this the speaker appeals to the judgment
of his audience on the point in debate, as if their feelings were
the same as his.
" Suppose, Piso, anyone had driven you from your house by violence, what
would you have done ? "
30. Hyperbole expresses more than the literal truth. It consists
in magnifying objects beyond their natural bounds, so as to make
them more impressive or more intelligible.
" Beneath the lowest deep, a lower deep,
Still threatening to devour me, opens wide."
12, IV.]
INTRODUCTION— LITERATURE.
xuv
(Is
at
the
nd
at
the
the
be
«in-
:e.
ion of two
ilence, what
31. Allegory.— A sentence or discourse in which the principal
subject is described by means of another subject rescmhlirif,' it. It
is made up of continue*] allusions. Tennyson s Idylh of the Kitiff,
or Bunyan's Pilfrnin's Prof,'n'ss, is an example of this fi^'ure.
3i. Litotes, by denying the contrary, implies more than is ex-
pressed.
" Immortal name*.
That were not bora to itie,"~i.f,, that will live,
33. Climax.— An ascending series of ideas or thou(,'hts increasing
in strength or importance until the last,
" It is an outratjc to bind a Roman citizen ; to icourt^e hin\ ia an atrocious crime ;
to flit him to death is almost a parricide ; but to crucify \\\m -what sli.ill I call it ? "
The opposite of this figure is Anti-Climax, or the arnmgemcnt of
the terms or particulars of a sentence or other portion of a dis-
course, so that the ideas suddenly become less dignified at the close.
" A (,'oocl Christian, a gooil citizen, and a good shot with a rine."
34. Prolepsis. — The anticipatory use of a word, or phrase.
"Tliey beat with their oars the hoary sea," instead of "They beat tin; si,i witli
their oars and madi,' it lioary."
35. Catachresis.— An .abtise of a figure, by which ri word is
wrested from its original application, and made to i.xpress some-
thing at variance with its true meaning.
" Her voice was but tlie shadow of a sound."
36. Aposiopesis. — The leaving of a sentence unfinished, in conse-
quence of some sudden emotion of the m.ind.
"What I doyoi! -do you cliargc me with this, a mai: wlio has never in his life
pursued anything but virtue? What you have pursued But I am silent, lest
I should seem to have brought a charge against a friend."
37. Apostrophe. — A turning away from the regular course of the
composition to address something absent, as if it were present.
"Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave,
where is thy victory ? "
38. Epigram. — A short, pointed, or witty saying, the true sense of
which is different from that which appears on the surface.
" Solitude sometimes is the best society."
39. Innuendo. — A form of Allusion, in which a thought, instead
of being plainly stated, is merely suggested or implied.
" He did his party all the harm in his power— he spoke for it and voted against it."
40. Euphemism. — A circumlocution used to soften a harsh or a
direct way of expressing a thought.
" Your conduct is hardly in accordance with the principles of morality."
41. Sarcasm. A keen, reproachful, but at the same time witty,
expression.
' Ward has no heart, they say : but I deny it:
Ha has a heart, and g'c/s his speeches by it I'-
,*
xxxvl
INTRODUCTION— LITERATURE.
:i2, V.
V. Number of Words—
I. Brevity, or Conciseness, consists in using the smallest number of
words for the complete expression of a thought. As a general ruk, the
more briefly a thought is expressed, the more clearly and forcibly is it
conveyed. Hence, no word, phrase, or clause should be used, if its
omission would impair neither the clearness nor the force of the sentence.
Too great conciseness, however, produces obscurity and abruptness.
a. Sources of Brevity —
1. Apt Words.— A writer should in all cases use the word which
expresses the exact shade of his meaning. If he do not, he will fail
to make his meaning clear, or he will be forced to repeat his idea in
different forms.
2. Suitable Grammatical Constructions. — The following are
those most conducive to Brevity :— Participles for clauses with finite
verbs; appositives instead of clauses with connectives; abstract
nouns; adjectives for adjective clauses; nouns for adjectives; pre-
positional phrases with or without adjectives; and contracted and
condensed sentences.
3. Effective Figures of Speech.— Those most suitable for the
purposes of Brevity are Simile, Metaphor, Transferred Epithet,
Antithesis, Epigram, and Ellipsis.
b. Violations of Brevity—
I. Tautology, or the repetition of the same idea in different
words — f.g-., " Everyone praised his magnanimity and greatness of
mind." "Magnanimity" and "greatness of mind" have the same
meaning: one of them is, therefore, unnecessary. Correct writers
avoid the use of Superfluous Particles, especially Prepositions and
Conjunctions— <'.^., "They may be divided up into three component
parts; "—of Adverbs, Adjectives, or Qualifying phrases, the meanings
of which are already involved in the sentence— r.^., "The most
entire approval;" — of two or more nouns having nearly the same
meaning — e.g., "The investigation and inquiry." But the association
of words having nearly the same meaning is admissible under the
following circumstances: —
(a) "When one word would not express the full sense intended, or
when a word would admit of two meanings if used aloae. Some
pairs of words, also, are linked together by established usage — e.g.,
" Use and wont," "To all intents and purposes."
(b) When under the influence of strong emotion, the mind is dis-
posed to dwell upon the exciting cause — e.g., " I am astonished, I am
shocked, to hear such principles confessed; to hear them avowed in
this house and in this country."
(c) When an idea requires emphatic expression — e.g., "The end and
design," "The head and front," "means and substance."
2. Pleonasm, or Redundancy, consists of additions not necessary
to express the sense— e.g., "It was the privilege and birthright oi
every citizen and poet to rail aloud and in public."
:i2, 7.
umber of
il rule, the
libly is it
ed, if its
; sentence,
tness.
)rd which
le will fail
lis idea in
Dwing are
with finite
abstract
ives; pre-
acted and
le for the
I Epithet,
INTRODUCTION— LITERATURE.
XXXVll
12, v.]
rleon<i.->m is permissible for rhetorical emphasis, for the clearer
expression of meaning, and in the language of poetry and passion—
e.g., "We have secmcith our eyes; we have hc^ird 7i'itlioiir fcirs."
The heavens above, the earth beneath, and the waters under the
earth."
3. Verbosity, or Circumlocution, consists in a diffuse mode of ex-
pression, r.j?-., "On receiving this information, he arose, went out,
saddled his horse, and went to town." There is no Tautology or
Redundancy here; but, unless for some special purpose, the details
are uninteresting and unimportant. Condensed, the sentence would
read, "On receiving this information, he rode to town."
Circumlocution is, however, allowable for poetic or rhetorical
effect, or to avoid the disagreeable repetition of a word or phrase.
But unnecessary substitutions savor of affectation and confuse the
sense. The writer's first consideration should be the perspicuity of
his sentence, and to ensure this, the repetition of a word or phrase
may be necessary.
2. Diffuseness.— Sometimes a writer produces by diffuseness the de-
sired effect of style. To the examples of allowable diffuseness given under
(12, v., I, h, I, 2, and 3,) the following may be added:—
a. An example or illustration used by a writer must be suited in
length to the state of mind of the person addressed. If what the
writer says is well known, a brief reference is all that is necessary;
but if it is unknown, or if he desires to work up the feelings of his
readers, he must emphasize by expansion.
b. To produce harmony of sound and sense, a long word or clause
may be necessary to suit the dignity of the thought or the intensity
of the emotion— f./^., To express great amazement, "stupendous" is
better than "vast" or "great." In poetic embellishment, "The
glorious orb of day " is more suitable than "The sun."
VI. Order of Words—
I. As the Grammatical order of words is not always the best for effect,
this order is departed from frequently in poetry and sometimes in prose.
As a general rule we should endeavor to arrange the parts of a proposi-
tion in the order in which the ideas they express naturally present them-
selves to the mind. The arrangement of the words in a sentence should
resemble the arrangement of the figures in a picture— the most important
should occupy the chief places.
In English, the natural order of the parts of a sentence is — Subject,
predicate, object. But this order may be varied: —
a. When the subject is less important than the predicate or the
object, either may precede it. Any special emphasis may justify
inversion — e.g., "Great is Diana of the Ephesians," — emphasizes
the predicate ; " Look upon it, I dare not," — emphasizes the object.
b. The emphatic places in a sentence are the beginning and the
end. Hence emphasis will be secured by placing u wyid ia eilhei'
xxxvm
INTRODUCTION— LITERATURE.
[12, VI.
I, Si
'{■
i '
III
i '
of these places, if this be not its natural position— f.g-., "Silver and
Kokl have I uonc." See also {12, II., 2. a.) It follows then as a
general rule that —
c. A sentence should not end with a weak or an insignificant word,
as a pronoun, adverb, or preposition. The exceptions to this state-
ment are —
(i) When the otherwise weak word is made strong by emphasis-—
e.g., "In their prosperity my friends shall never hear of mc; in
their adversity, always."
(2) When a particle is attached to the verb so as practically to
form a compound with ii— e.g., " It is this I wish to chay tip."
{3) When we wish to avoid a broken construction, or what is
called "splitting particles," as when we write— "Though virtue bor-
rows no assistance from the advantages of fortune, yet it may often
be accompanied by them," instead of the broken construction in
"Though virtue borrows no assistance from, yet it may often be
accompanied by, the advantages of fortune."
2. In complex statements, the qualifying words should precede the
object qualified; but words and expressions most nearly related in thought
should be placed closest together. That arrangement should be preferred
which entails the fewest and shortest suspensiors of the meaning.
QUALITIES OF STYLE.
13. The Qualities of Style are Intellectual Qualities, Emotional Qual-
ities, and Elegancies—
I. Intellectual Qualities. — The qualities of style, considered as an
object of the understanding, are Accuracy and Clearness.
To ensure Accuracy and Clearness, that is, the faithful presentation of
thought, style requires Purity and Perspicuity.
I. Purity prescribes—
a. Correct Forms and Concords.— Every sentence of a composi-
tion must be constructed in accordance with the laws of grammar.
The common errors consist in the use of wrong single words or
forms, and of false concords— that is, wrong cases, genders, num-
bers, and tenses.
b. Good English Words.— To be good, a word must be reput-
able (used by good writers or speakers), recent (used at present),
and national (used by a whole people). Violations of these princi-
ples constitute Barbarisms, the chief causes of which are :
(i) The unnecessary use of obsolete words.
(2) The use of provincial or slang expressions.
(3) The general and unnecessary use of technical terms.
(4) An affected use of foreign words.
(5) Coining words unnecessarily.
c. Proper Words— that is, words fit for the occasion. In a com-
position, every word nr phrase should bear the me.aning which
established usage has assigned to it. The violation of this principle
l3, 1.]
INTRODUCTION-LITERATURE.
xxxix
constitutes an Impropriety. The chief causes of impropriety in the
use of lingHsh words are : , ■ i
(i) Neglect to observe the proper sequence of particles--CA'.,
"lie had no other intention but to deceive me," ia which "but
improperly folio ws " other . "
(2) Neglect to distinguish between synonyms.
(3) Carelessness as to the real meaning of words— f.g-., " Monarchy
stood prostrate at the foot of the church."
2 Perspicuity, or Clearness.-" Care should be taken, not that the
reader may understand if he will, but that he must understand whether
he will or not." Perspicuity prescribes— , . , a
a. Simplicity.— This term covers not merely the choice of worcls,
but the arrangement of clauses, sentences, and paragraphs. The
violations of this principle are badly-arranged sentences, and pedan-
tic, roundabout, and inflated words and phrases.
b. Brevity.— Sfc (12, V., i, a and b).
c Precision, or Definiteness of Meaning.— The violation of this
produces Ambiguity or Obscurity, which may occur in words an.l
in sentences. . ^ -
(i) In words. The Ambiguity may be one of meaning or ot ret-
erence. The greatest source of ambiguity of reference is the care-
less use of pronouns, especially of the relative.
(2) In sentences. This arises from a disregard of the rules for
the arrangement of the parts of a sentence. Sec (12, VI., i and 2).
II. Emotional Qualities. -The Emotional Qualities of style, or those
that affect the emotions or feelings, are—
I. Strength, which consists in such a use and arrangement of words
as convey the author's meaning most impressively.
Under the general name of Strength are included such varieties as sub-
limity, loftiness, magnificence, grandeur, dignity, stateliness, and splendor ;
fervor, energy, force, vigor, and nerve; brilliancy, rapidity, liveliness,
vivacity, and animation. In this list, those qualities that resemble one an-
other are grouped together. In literary criticism, the terms are often used
loosely, but several of them have specific meanings. There is, for instance,
a wide difference between ^he extremes; sublimity being secured by the
description of great and noble objects, which produce a sort of elevation
and expansion of our feelings; animation being the presentation of ideas
in rapid succession.
The following are the principal modes of securing Strength: —
(i) Important words should occupy the most prominent places.
See (12, VI., I,) and (12, II., 2, a).
(2) The Periodic structure, by exciting and concentrating atten-
tion, often adds to the force of a sentence. See (12, II., i, b).
(3) When the members of a sentence differ in length, the shorter
should precede the longer; and, when they are of unequal force.
the weaker should precede the stronger. In all cases, however, the
order of time should be observed,
Ill
if
Xl
INTRODUCTION-LITERATURE.
[13, II.
(4) When in different members of a sentence two objects are con
(7) An accumulation of small words should be avoided.
(8) T.ie language and the subject should harmonize with -ind
support each other. Different themes demand d,fferen t el^mLt
al/narTs of ''' °' '"^.^^^'^-^^'°" °f ^^-ts, should bo maintain" 1 in
all parts of composition, viz.: variety in sound (13. in j) "d"
subjects and in the length and structure of sentences. The occur
rence of any unpleasmg similarity of sound, the improper repetition
of a word or a long series of sentences of the same tyoe enfeeble
style an. should be avoided. See (z3, II.. ,. ,), and (Zlile)
(10 All superfluous words should be rejected. See (12 V 1)
(II) As far as is consistent with perspicuityand good gr^imar
jvhatever may be readily supplied should L omitted.' s::"?!;
.f ^I '^ wl"'" °f,^.^J^^tives and adverbs in close succession enfeebles
style. When judiciously applied, these parts of speech have a
powerful influence in animating, and heightening the effect of an
rXraddi^r^^tX^ ^--— - -- ^-en atentLS
o^sp.riteimag.^ the conjunction is often omitted'with .TSeT,
[12. IV. II). When, however, an enumeration is made in which it
IS important that the transition from one object to another should
not be too rapid, but that each should attract attention for a
moment, the conjunction may be repeated (12 IV 10)
14) Indirect or prefaced modes of expression should be avoided
unk^ss to introduce important ideas-.^., -it was I that dTd il ■'
and -There was no one present." Better - 1 did it." and -No one
was present. "^
(15) Reduce, as far as possible, the number of auxiliaries excent
when they are emphatic. S.v also (13, II.. i. 7). This " nc pTet •
more applicable to poetry than to prose, and occurs chfefly fn the
subjunctive mood. --"icuy m mc
(16) The Specific and the Concrete are more effective than the
General and the Abstract. A statement is stronger when made
about an individual object than about a class
r J' rl^'Tf ^u '' °/''" promoted by the use of Figures of Speech
(12 IV,); but they should be u.sed only when they convey the S
m a^orter space and with greator vividness tf^n orl^ £ '
[13, II.
13, XL]
INTRODUCTION— LITERATURE.
xli
(i8) Originality and boldness in combinations should be aimed
at, especially in the use of Figures of Speech. Frequent repetition
palls, even \vhen what we repeat is itself of the highest merit.
Novelty and agreeable surprises conduce to strength.
(19) Every means should bo taken to ensure Perspicuity. Sec
(13, I., 2). We should write naturally, use definite, plain words, with
a preference for those of Anglo-Saxon origin, and avoid affectation ;
roundabout expressions (12, V., i, b, 3), remote allusions, frequent
quotations^especially those that are hackneyed — exaggerated lan-
guage, harsh-sounding words, and whatever interrupts the easy flow
of our sentences.
(20) The Periodic, the Abrupt, and the Balanced and Pointed
styles (12, II., I, b and c,) increase greatly the strength of a compo-
sition, if the principle of Variety is duly rdcognized (13, II., i, 9).
The first keeps up the attention, and favors the Unity of the sen-
tences (13, II., I, 2); the second increases the rapidity of the
movement; and the last gives agreeable surprises and assists the
memory.
2. Pathos, or Tender Feeling, which touches the tender chord in our
nature. It is a sympathetic pain combined-with pleasure.
The following are the chief means of stimulating the emotion : —
(i) Allusions to the strong affections of our nature — to love of
family, friends, or country.
(2) Accounts of acts of compassion, kindness, or humanity.
{3) The expression of kind and humane thoughts and feelings.
(4) Descriptions of any of the misfortunes to which human beings
are subject, as death, sorrow, pain, misery.
(5) Many gentle pleasures, and even some intense ones, stimulate
the emotion of tenderness.
3. The Ludicrous, which excites laughter, and is caused by the degra-
dation of any subject without the production of any other strong emotion,
such as anger or fear. Of this quality there are several varieties : —
In Satire the Ludicrous is associated with malice without arousing
sympathy for the object— r.^.. Pope's Epistle to Arbuthnot. Akin to this
quality is Ridicule, the object of which is to influence opinion.
Humor is the laughable degradation of an object, without malice, in a
genial, kindly, good-natured way— t-./i'., many of Addison's papers in the
Spectator. The subject of Humor is character — not its graver faults, but
its foibles, vanities, and weaknesses generally. Humor and Pathos often
relieve each other. (13, II., i, 9.) This combination constitutes one of the
greatest charms of Dickens's works.
Wit is an ingenious and unexpected play upon words. Sec(i2, IV., 26).
When we call a writer witty, we have reference merely to the clever-
ness of his mode uf expression; he may be also satiric or sarcastic, like
Swift: or humorous, like Addison or Lamb,
III. Elegancies of Style.— The Elegancies of Style are:—
I. Melody, which is agreeable sound or modulation. Under melody
xlii
'INTRODUCTION- LITERATURE.
fl3, III.
ml
'^ ■'
•I i''
we should conp.idor-first, whether the autlior conforms t.i the general
requisites; and secondly, what is his prevaiiinj; rhythm. The following
are the general requisites of Melody :—
(i) The avoiding of harsh effects. The abrupt consonants, as/,
t, k,f, th, h, etc., are the hardest to pronounce; the vowels are the
easiest. " Barber," for instance, is easier to pronounce than " Prau-
matic." *
(2) The alternation of long and short, emphatic and uncmiihatic
syllables.
(3) The alternations of consonants among themselves, and of
vowels among themselves.
(4) The avoiding of unpleasant alliterations. Sec p. 4 of " Wolfe
and Old Quebec,' ', iG, 17.
(5) The due observance, throughout a composition, of the prin-
ciple of variety. S^r (13, II., i, g).
(6) The cadence at the close. The closing syllable of a sentence
should allow the voice to fall. Avoid closing a sentence with a
short, unemphatic, abrapt syllable or word. See (13, II., i, 5). When
we aim at dignity or elevation, the sound should swell to the last
Sec(i2, II., I, 3).
Many good writers have a characteristic and indescribable swing
to their language— a peculiar rhythmical movement by which the
trained ear may soon detect the authorship of a piece of com-
position.
2. Harmony is melody, so ordered as to be expressive of the sense
This is desirable in prose, but occurs most markedly in poetry. See (12,
IV., 4). Sound, movement, and vast bulk may be easily represented.
3. Taste has two meanings: —
(i) The power of receiving pleasure from the beauties of Nature
and Art. In this sense it is almost synonymous with Ele-^ance
Polish, and Refinement. Persons devoid of this power are said to
have no taste.
(2 That kind of artistic excellence that gives the greatest amount
of pleasure to cultured minds. In this sense it is generally used in
literary cntici-sm.
The rules of Taste are those which govern correct literary compo-
sition; but variable elements al.so exist, for there are marked differ-
ences in the literary tastes of men, countries, and periods.
tl»
DANIEL V^ILSON, LL.D., F.R.S.E.,
President of University College, Toronto.
Biographical. — Dr. Wilson is a native of Scotland, having been born
in 1816 at Edinburgh, where he received his education. After attend-
ing the University, he went to London, and there supported himself
by literary labor. On his return to the Scottish capital, he contributed
to various newspapers and journals, laying, meanwhile, the foundations 5
of that archsological knowledge on which rests his chief claim to dis-
tinction. For many years before coming to Canada, he was the Secre-
tary, as veil as a Fellow, of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland. Art
studies, also, secured a share of his attention, and most of the illustra-
tions that adorn his works are from drawings by the author. In 1853, ,0
chiefly, it is said, owing to the favorable verdict of Mr. Hallam, on
ADVANCED READER.
the Aniurulogy ami Pnhistoric Annals of Scotland, Dr. Wilson received the
appointment of I'rofessor of History and English Literature in University
College, Toronto, a position in which he has done much for the advancement
15 of Canadian culture. His lectures on History, English Literature, and Eth-
nology are the matured productions of a scholarly and philosophic mind,
and are remarkable no less for their liberality than for their breadth of
view. By his energy and shrewdness, as well as by his effective eloquence
when it needed a defender, he has played an important part in the history
20 of the University, and has contributed in no small degree to its present
prosperity. He has also taken a leading part in the literary and scientific
work of Ontario, and for four years edited, -vith much acceptability, the
Canadian Journal, the organ of the Canadian Institute, of which he was
for some time I'resident. But Dr. Wilson has additional claims on our
25 respect. He is an excellent citizen. There have been few philanthropic
or social movements in Toronto in which he has not manifested an active
interest, and some of its charitable institutions owe their existence to his
benevolent efforts. He has also been intimately connected with Secondary
Education, having been President of the Teachers' Association of Ontario,
3'^ and Representative of the High School Masters on the late Council of
Public Instruction. Dr. Wilson stands high in the estimation of the
general public as well as of literary circles; and when, on Dr. McCaul's
retirement in 1881, he was appointed to the 1 residency of University Col-
lege, it was universally felt that his promotion was only the fitting reward
35 of faithful services, and of untiring zeal in the cause of Education.
tisi
1 'I
m;
1
H '
9 ''
si f'
! i^ '
V^ORKS.— Memorials of Edinburgh in the Olden Time (1847) ; A work illus-
trated from drawings by the author, and consisting of descriptions of
local and historical events, and of laboriously collected matter of anti-
quarian interest. Oliver Cromwell (1848): Chiefly a compilation from
40 various sources. The Archeology and Prehistoric Annals of Scotland
(1851); also illustrated by the author: A large and elaborate classification
of the antiquities of Scotland, pronounced by Hallam to be " the most
scientific treatment of the Archaeological evidences of Primitive History
which had ever been written." Prehistoric Man ; or, Researches into the
45 Origin of Civilization in the Old and New Worlds (1862) : Besides other
matter, this work contains the results of Dr. Wilson's investigations into
the Ethnology and Antiquities of America, and discusses the origin of
civilization, the unity of the human race, and the length of time that has
elapsed since the creation of man. Chatterton ; a Biographical Study
50 (1869) : A work of high merit, in which Dr. Wilwn's purely literary
qualities are seen at their best. Caliban ; or, The Missing Link (1873) :
A remarkable production, in which the author brings his knowledge of
an apparently literary subject to bear on one which properly belongs to
the domain of Science. It is at once an argument against the Darwinian
55 theory of Evolution, and a criticism on Shakespeare's "Tempest," and
Browning's "Caliban on Setebos." The author shows that Caliban,
Shakespeare's poetical creation altered in Browning's conception, is the
WILSON.
Ison received the
ire in University
the advancement
Esrciture, and Eth-
hilosophic mind,
their breadth of
t'ective eloquence
irt in the history
ee to its present
iry and scientific
.cceptability, the
of which he was
al claims on our
3w philanthropic
lifested an active
■ existence to his
1 with Secondary
iation of Ontario,
; late Council of
stimation of the
on Dr. McCaul's
f University Col-
;he fitting reward
ducation.
f7) ; A work illus-
f descriptions of
1 matter of anti-
;ompilation from
nals of Scotland
rate classification
to be " the most
Primitive History
jsearches into the
;) : Besides other
nvestigations into
ses the origin of
of time that has
ographical Study
s purely literary
sing Link (1873) :
his knowledge of
aperly belongs to
ist the Darwinian
"Tempest," and
ws that Caliban,
conception, is the
"missing link" between man and the brute. Spriiio M'ild Floiiu'rs (1873) ;
A reprint, with additions, of an earlier volunu; of poems bearing the same
title. RcmiiiiscciiLcs of Old Edinbiirjrh (1873), profusely illustrated from 60
drawings by the author. Dr. Wilson has also written several of the
articles in the recent edition of the Kncyclopirdin liritunnica, and his contri-
butions to the Canadian yonrnal and Canadian Monthly have been frequent
and important.
Critical. — Dr. Wilson is a man of versatile powers— an able speaker, (^^
an energetic and industrious worker, and a writer who has won distinc-
tion in both Literature and Science. The special characteristics of his
style are ease and fluency. His treatment of scientific subjects is clear
and exact ; his views, even when they may he combated, are original,
well based and well argued ; and his language is choice and expressive. 70
On literary topics he is equally at home, his style being eloquent and
graceful, sometimes full of tender feeling, and often glowing with the
charms of a fervent imagination.
GExNERAL WOLFE AND OLD QUEBEC.
A PERIOD of imbecility, gloom, and disaster, marked Eng-
land's share in the war which followed soon after the truce of
Aix-la-Chapelle, till the Great Commoner was called to the
coimcils of the nation. Forthwith vigor took the place of
despondency and defeat. Men were entrusted with the con-
duct of the war because of approved fitness, and not from
family connections or parliamentary interest ; and, among the
rest, young Wolfe was selected by Pitt, and sent with General
Literary. — Give an account of the
course of the war before the events
narrated in the selection. (See Pri-
mer of Canadian History, pp. 29-30;
and Thompson's English History, pp.
282-284.)
I. imbecility, gloom, and disas-
ter. Explain clearly the meaning,
and show to whom each refers. Is
the sentence to which they belong
loose or periodic? (12, H., i, a.)
4-5 Forthwith— defeat. Why a
short sentence ? See also 1. 10. (12,
H., I, b.) Note the order of the
words. (12, n., 2, a.)
Elocutionary.— A narrative and descriptive selection. The prevailing
quality is therefore pure ; force, moderate ; pitch, middle ; and time,
moderate. (HL, 1-5.)
4-5- vigor, despondency. For the reading of contrasted words, see
(HL, 6, e), and (HL, 8, a and d).
Note.— The figures within brackets refer to the sections of the Introductions ; those
under the heading "Literary," to Introduction, Part II.; and those under the heading
Elocutionary, to Introduction, Part I.
II
4 . ADVANCED READER.
Amherst to this continent, wliere Lord Loudon liad been con-
lo ducting matters to most unsatisfactory results. Forthwith all
was changed. At Louisbourg, Cape Breton, Brigadier Wolfe
effected a landing under the eye of the General and Admiral
Boscawen, in the face of powerful batteries, and with a sea
so violent that many boats foundered ; and pushed on the
'5 siege till Louisbourg fell, and Cape Breton with it. The fleet
to which the Court of Versailles had confided the defence of
French America was destroyed ; the captured standards were
borne in triumph from Kensington Palace to the City, and
there suspended in St. Paul's, amid the roar of cannon and
^o the shouts of the people. As Walpole expressed it : " Our
bells are worn threadbare with ringing for victories ! "
The energy of the great Minister seemed to extend its in-
fluence everywhere. The year 1759 opened with the conquest
of Goree ; next Guadaloupe fell , then Ticonderoga and
25 Niagara, bringing that old war, in fancy, to our own doors.
And as on land, so was it at sea. The Toulon squadron was
completely defeated by Admiral Boscawen off Cape Lagos,
while Wolfe— now General of the forces of the St. Lawrence,'
—was preparing for the achievement which was to crown the
30 triumplis of the year with sadness and with glory. Tae sea-
son was already far advanced. He had tried in vain to effect
a landing below the Montmorency, and do battle with Mont-
calm where he lay entrenched at Beauport. All fears or
hopeb of aid from the French fleet were at an end. But
35 Montcalm had other resources ; had already— though in
vain— tried, by fire-ships and rafts, to annihilate the English
fleet. His best hope now lay in the equinox, and the early
11-15. What are the emphatic
places in a sentence ? (12, II., 2, a.)
15. fleet. Explain the Metonvmv
(12, IV., I.) ^
16-17. Is Alliteration allowable in
prose ? (7.)
21. worn threadbare. Explain.
(12, IV., 2.)
1-21. What class nf sentence nre-
vails in this paragraph ? (12, 11.^ i.)
25. in fancy, to our own doors.
Explain.
29. crown. Show from derivation
the exact force.
30. with. Why repeated? (12,
. 33-34- All— end. Show that this
IS a condensed sentence. ('12, II
28 35. Read the parenthetic clauses in a lower tone. (III., 8, c.)
U7L.SOA'.
lad been con-
Forthwith all
gadier Wolfe
and Admiral
d with a sea
shed on the
;t. The fleet
le defence of
indards were
he City, and
cannon and
ed it : " Our
es!"
Jitend iis in-
the conquest
deroga and
own doors,
luadron was
^ape Lagos,
. Lawrence,
crown the
'. Tae sea-
ain to effect
with Mont-
VU fears or
end. But
-though in
the English
d the early
r own doors.
Dm derivation
)eated ? (12,
ow that this
:e. (12, II.,
8, c.)
winter beyond, with their gales, to drive General and Admiral
both out of the St. Lawrence; and he already flattered him-
self that Quebec and French America were as good as safe for 40
another year.
The English General's fears corresponded only too closely
thereto. Fatigue and anxiety preyed on his delicate frame.
A violent fever prostrated him for a time; but, undaunted, he
J returned to his work, and at length the night of September «
1 2th, 1759, had come, and the d-\wn of his fortunate day.
His troops, 5,000 men in all, had been already transported
above Quebec. These he embarked in boats, dropt down
the broad river in silence, under the stars ; and, as he glides
swiftly towards victory and death, a little incident illuminates so
for us the stealthy machinations of that night with a tender
spiritual ray. John Robison, a young midshipman — long
after well known as Professor of Natural Philosophy in the
University of Edinburgh, — was in the same boat with the
General, and loved in after years to recall the incident. As 55
they moved down the river with muffled oars, Wolfe repeated
in a low voice some stanzas from Gray's " Elegy," — then in
the first blush of its fame, — ending with the prophetic lines : —
" The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave. 60
Await alike th' inevitable hour ;
The paths of glory lead but to the grave ; "
and as he closed, he added that he would rather be author of
that poem than victor in the impending battle.
On the triumph which followed we need not here dwell. 65
39. both. Parse, and account for
Its position. (12, VI., i.)
22-41. Note that the rapid move-
ment of the abrupt style which pre-
vails in this paragraph, brings out
forcibly the thought in the leading
sentence. (12, II., i, b.)
43. thereto. To what ?
45-46. dawn. Explain use.
48. dropt. Parse. Examine the
construction of this sentence. (13,
I., 2, c, 2.)
49. glides. Note the effect of the
changed tense. (12, IV., 3.)
50. illuminates. Meaning here ?
58. blush. Explain the Metaphor.
(12. IV., 2.)
65. Account for the order of the
words. (12, II., 2, a.)
39. The boast, etc.
words. (III., 7.)
Slow and solemn tone. Pause after emphatic
ii
11
i
i
hi
P '
■}-
■f
1
:L
APFAA'CFP NEADRR.
"itl, al »!„■ 1 historic intinnnes, arc inddiMv iinnrinted on
every C.ii.ulia,, ,„ii„l. W„|, „,„ ,„„„„. ,.^ • ^^"« °"
I^MKlan, fl„„te,l „v.r the lu.„.|„s „f giid,ec'inark i, „ .A °
'l/erT: -^ Y"''- •'•'-""'"-^ "--forth, in;, X
eve form of ^'overnn.ent, was to be English, not FrJnc
.« ff.rT, ;""%''":"'• '""' ''^^ •■>"■' """O^"''" lay tee"
pedcefiil III the lirotherluiod of iltalh.
For Wolfe, it was the close of a life tint mi.d,t ,.,.ll i,
"envied. Tcn,ler and true as Nc Ji 1, ,',",, H
nobler moral .self.co„,mand. he hud fall r'tl',rn''' J^
on«,ns eyes for her you„R soldiers return. She was ,' id
oTirrde":: ^ •"; °b^ r"; "^^ '■•'" -->•"-•«" .h
could desire, and she had nrged his stay with all the e ,
quenee of love. But diit.^ called him, and, howeve rel ,e
tan.iy, he , heyed. The verses have been pr«ervld whic he
T,>V T "^ "'" "°' '=°'"l"'^« ^""' Grays " EIckv "
but they have an interest of their own, as where he urgesf-
" Two passions vainly pleading,
My beating heart divide :
Lo ! there my country bleeding,
And here my weeping bride."
95
65-7.^ Contrast the abrupt stvle
here u ith the longer l„ose sentences
01 he prrceding paragraphs. (12 II
r, 6.) r V . •,
70-71 ThJs-Freuch. Give fully
the grounds of this statement,
1Z. peaceful — death.
beauty of this touch.
Note the
78 Black Prince. Show the pecu-
liar aptness of this reference.
91 as where. Expand.
92^ Two passions, etc. Gentle force. Pause aft
er "passions," "there,
''~''''"»'''^™»»,'i.i.yjiBI|)IIW','.'Ha'MJ'*l:
WILSON.
of Abraham,
imprinted on
in the fla/j; of
<inf< nn era in
, uiulor what-
not Frencli.
'ni l.iy there
if^ht well be
aiul with a
the arms of
ince the old
11 his thirty-
•, lay dyiiif,'- ;
and sorrow
lourner who
3f England's
Itching, with
■ vvas a ricli
g that heart
all the eio-
^ever reluc-
2d w hich he
'ide he was
's " Elegy,"
e urges : —
Note the
And while thus pleading for that inevitable separation, he
reminds her that —
" \{) distance hearts can sunder
Whom mutual truth has joined."
Thus fresh in all the passionate tenderness and fervor of mo
youth was that heart which sacrificed love to duty on the
field of death. He gave his bride, as a lover's token, at that
last parting, a locket containing some of his own hair. She
lived to become Countess of Bolton; but to the day of her
death she wore on her bosom Wolfe's last gift, covered witii .,,5
crape.
England failed not to render what honors could be lavished
on him who had thus found in the path of duty the way to
glory and to death. The difficulties which Wolfe had to con-
t(Mid with had seemed insup' able. No one dreamt of sue- no
cess. Horace Walpole — a good specimen of the croakers of
that day, as of our own, — is fotmd writing to his friend. Sir
Horace Mann, while tardy winds were wafting across the
ocean news of the victory already won :- -'* \Vc have failed at
Quebec, as we certainly shall ! " "s
Fancy the revulsion of feeling on the falsifying of such pre-
dictions ; the exulting pride, the national outburst of tearful
joy. The poet Cowper recalls the time, as one when it was —
" Praise enough
To fill the ambition of a private man, lao
That Ch itham's lan}j;uage was his nK.ther-tongue,
And Wolfe's great name compatriot with his own."
96. thus pleading. Explain. \ 108-10Q. who — death. Account for
99. mutual. Distinguish from "re- the phraseology of this clause.
ciprocal" and "common." u^ ^^d seemed. Why is the
7.}-io6. Note the effect of the tense changed in " dreamt " ?
abrupt style of sentence, and the . - . ,,,, ,1 • . -.
enunlerati; .n of touching particulars ''^- ^^ f°""<J- "^^hy this tense ?
in heightening the graceful pathos of 114-115. We — shall. Whatdiffer-
the paragraph, (i^, II., 2.) ent attacks are referred to ?
98. Pause after "distance." What inflection is required on "su.ider,"
and on "joined " ?
114. Make "have" emphatic.
1 16-126. Louder force and faster time at the beginning of the para-
graph. Pronounce the last lines with soft force. (HI., 2.)
8
ADVANCED READER.
i
'if!
Yet, also, it is well to realize in our own mindc; th.t u- u ■
so true a picture of what never fails Tthe a^en^ . "^ ''
..tr.un.phal car: the n.on.er iustt^Jel^^^^^^^^
answenng to the nation's joy-bells with th;ir tears ""'' '"
All that the unavailing honors. of this world can h.ef
Chatham strove to irive exnrpc:c,v.„ f^ .1 guinea ettort,
The feeii„,s which t;;Z:Z:^Z n drfrX ""°"-
ness of his loss, remain associaeed wTth I H^ ^ ° fn'^h"
.35 hour. He Ines on the historic paffe he dwelirr ^ "
ries^ in the beauty of perpetual youth. " °" '"™°-
Had Wolfe lived to mature his jud.mient hv »^„ j
pertence. he might have rivalled Mariror" H and Wel^ V"'
hattre?aVai;:-t a" r^™ '^'t 'haTe ''"'"' ''' ^"""'^^■^
world could offer to „rake 1 fe c" e able b^t he°TVr''i'"^
.45 the thought of a life hevnnd .„A u "" '''"' ''^ed '"
Phantl, lc.oJ;^::^Z^^^]^:^^^l^r, tr.un.
exclaimed, ''Now, God be praised, I dTehTppv ' S tl ^^
may, indeed, be pronounced happ;. ^^^ ^""^ ^^^^
'"^h^fe'l^'-y dies not. and the grief is past"
'SO JJut there was another hero of that fated fi.M f
tomb .. the boast of heraldry found t 'Ztl tealbl " Th:
Why
IS it
Ex-
123-126. Yet-tears
well to do this ?
129-131. embodied — tomb
plain clearly.
132. Chatham. When did Pitt
get this t.tle ? Of which House of
1 arliarnent was he a member when
tnese events occurred ?
. 133- 1 34- in— loss. Turn this phrase
into a subordinate proposition
134- his— his. Do these refer to
the same person ?
136. in— youth. Explain fully.
127-136, Observe the structure of
the paragraph. (12, III., 2 and 3.)
140-141. he-world. Discuss fully.
Vnr^^r. "^^ beyond. What is meant ?
I'or meaning cf, 1, 149. ^
147. For what does he ascribe
praise to God ,' iscriDe
151. "the boast of heraldry" is
this quotation appropriately in tro!
duccd,- laurel wreaths. Paraphrase.
"■»raj?tt\i.,i3«»!riqs
that which is
idant on war's
bride unwed ;
irs.
J can bestow
th the subject
f Abbey, em-
marble of his
^onted effort,
ersal sorrow,
sh conscious-
mory to this
1 our memo-
age and ex-
Welhngton.
3urgoyne, in
2d less envi-
vorld. It is
lis country's
ve that this
lad hved in
vork trium-
1 to do, he
Such dead
for whose
aths. The
>lain fully.
structure of
., 2 and 3.)
discuss fully.
at is meant ?
he ascribe
■aldry." is
ately intro-
Paraphrase.
II
i
WILSON. 9
young Marquis de Montcalm, whose name generous hands
have since graven on the same column with that of Wolfe on
the ramparts of Quebec, appears to have been a leader of
exceptional worth among those whom the worthless Louis 155
XV. delighted to honor. A letter of his, written to a cousin in
France, only three weeks before the fall of Quebec, shows a
statesmanlike prevision very suggestive to us now. Antici-
pating possible results, with the EngUsh masters of the river
and the French fleet annihilated, he says, " If Wolfe beat me 160
here, France has lost America utterly." But, as he tells his
friend, there lies for comfort in the future what even Chatham
failed to foresee : — with all occasion for defence against
French neighbors removed, " our only consolation is that, in
ten years, America will be in revolt against England ! " 165
So shrewdly reasoned Montcalm, as he looked from that old
vantage-ground into the future of this continent ; and though
there is no longer the jealousy of rival European powers to
act as a counterpoise to American assumption, the foresight
of the young Frenchman has still a lesson for ourselves. The 170
generous emulation of Canada and the United States can
only prove healthful to both. The habits of self-government
learned from the same parent, may help, in honorable rivalry,
to correct failures of each, while adapting to this New W^orld
free institutions mherited by both from England. But the 1-75
dream of absorbing this whole continent into one unwieldy
Republic is only suited to Young America in the stage of
boastful inexperience. Should it ever be realized, the teach-
ings of the past point to it as the mere transitional step to
greater disunion. The bounds of our Dominion are, on the 180
153. with. Criticise use.
155. Point out the contrast.
IV., 8.)
(12.
158 suggestive to us now. Cf.
11. 169, 170, and what follows.
165. America— England ! Why
should the absence of the French
bring this about ?
161-165. But — England ! Express
the thoughts in this sentence without
using a direct quotation.
161. has lost. Account for tense.
167. vantage-ground. Why so?
168. jealousy— powers. What is
referred to? How could their "jeal-
ousy " act as a " counterpoise " ?
172. only. Criticise position. (13,
I., 2, c, 2.)
174. each. Why "both" in 1 175?
177. only. Criticise position.
j 178-180. teachings— disunion. 11-
I lustrate from history.
N
■I
lO
ADVANCED READER.
whole, well defined ; and our historical individuality is deter-
mined by antecedents which it would puzzle the chroniclings
of a Monroe doctrinaire to fit into his ideal Republic of the
future.
185 The French-Canadian who calmly reviews what the France
of his fathers of the Louis XV. era was ; what the France of
subsequent Revolution eras has been ; what share has mean-
while been frankly accorded to him in working out free insti-
tutions on a wiser and surer basis ; and what his own NouveUe
igo France, and the ampler Canada of the united races have
become: has no reason to dissociate old Quebec from his
cherished memories. But transferred to a political ■ ^'on
which imposed on us the celebration of Fourth of Jul, isni-
versaries, the memories of Quebec and those of Queenston
195 Heights would prove equally irreconcilable with loyaUy to
the State on which they had been engrafted. There need be
no antagonism between Canada and the United States: sprung
like ourselves from the loins of Old England ; and not un-
worthy of her parentage. Nor need we shrink from acknow-
200 ledging that the independence of the older Colonies v/as a
victory in the cause of freedom, in which England herself has
been a gainer ; for the triumph of Lord North and of King
George would have impeded later hard-won rights which
have made it impossible that an English minister shall ever
205 again dare to do what Lord North then did. But Canada
has no inheritance in the memories of New England griev-.
ances; unless it be those recollections which she loves to
cherish of Loyalist forefathers, whose fidelity to the Empire
overbore all consciousness of personal wrongs. The geographi-
210 cal and political characteristics of Canada alike shape out for
it an autonomy of its own ; and it were well that the statesmen
181-184. our-
Cf. 11. 192-190.
-future. Paraphrase.
185-190. Show why the Lower Can-
adian can still cherish the memory
of Old Quebec, and explain clearly
the contrast brought out in 11. 192-
196, "But — engrafted."
185-196. Paraphrase this passage
in simpler language.
201-202. England— gainer. Illus-
trate from history.
203. later hsu-d-won rights. What
are referred to ?
— future.
209-213. The-
these statements
Criticise
WILSON.
II
is deter-
oniclings
ic of the
e France
"ranee of
IS mean-
ree insti-
Nouvelle
:es have
from his
al -i 'mi
III;. ..:i-
uefcnston
»yahy to
need be
: sprung
not un-
acknow-
3S was a
Tself has
of King
s which
lall ever
Canada
id griev-.
loves to
Empire
ographi-
e out for
atesmen
s passage
,er. Illus-
its. What
Criticise
of this continent should lay to heart all that is involved in the
wise foresight with which Montcalm forecast its future.
France unquestionably had her revenge for the defeat at
Quebec, in the Revolution of 1783 ; and reaped revenge's tit- 2,5
ting harvest in her own Reign of Terror, and all the revolu-
tions that have followed, ere she could acquire some capacity
for self-government. For whether America forget it or not,
England had trained her children to deal even with revolution
as free men, and not as slaves broke loose. A grand experi- 220
ment in the science of self-government has been entrusted to
us ; and the American Republic, with its Washington bureau-
cracy, and the quadrennial throes of its Presidential elections,
has not so solved the problem that we must need cast in our
lot with the United States, as though that were the sole 225
avenue to a political millennium.
A problem of singular interest is being solved here. Two
races, the foremost in the ranks of humanity, long rivals in
arts and arms :— the stolid, slow, but long-enduring Saxon;
the lively, impressible, gallant Frank — are here invited to 230
share a common destiny, and work out a future of their own.
The Norman and Saxon of elder centuries have united with
the Celt to make England what she is. Saxon, Norman, and
Celt meet here anew, under other fortunes, to make of our
common Dominion what future generations will know ho%v to 235
prize. Men of the old French monarchy before the era of
revolutions, have been succeeded by those who here, under
the segis of England, have been admitted and traijied to all
the rights and privileges of a free people.
It is a privilege not to be lightly thrown away, that we 240
share the destinies of an Empire where the Rajah of a British
215-216. reaped — harvest. Ex-
plain the Metaphor. (12, IV., 2.)
218-220. For — loose. Illustrate
this statement by a contrast between
the Americans and the French during
their Revolutions.
222-223. Explain clearly the objec-
tions here urged against the American
Republic. Criticise "need," 1. 224.
228-229. long — arms. Illustrate
from history.
229-230. the stolid — Frank. Point
out the Imitative Harmony. (12,
IV., 4.)
232. elder. Why not "older?"
240-246, Express the thought in
this sentence without the author's
amplification. (12, V., 2.) Show the
aptness of each word or phrase in the
expansion in the text.
12
■i . %
ADVANCED READER.
we innent, as a member of that "-re^f Rrifici. r- r j
...rB.'ir.s.'*;.-;:,',:.:;™"'"^''*"-
" Far on in summers that we shall not see "
..^^l-'^'.w^y^^P'*" Games. Bring out -.^7 2<;t w»„, », ,j ,
the full force of this designation.^ rie;'L ^JeclTus^o us ' '''''' ""'''"'^-
men^'o?thetr?pe'names.' '"'"^" ^^^^ "«' "^^^^ - the subject ?
bord5^^^:;:;P[^;^-^i-^d^sl.. that in some places U
sophiftrh^i^y^o^ht^^-?^^^^^^^^^^^
2) ; and tender feeling (13; h , 2) • ^ ' °'^^ vocabulary (13, I,,
Composition.
sei?crnt^Li"thrf:i,o;i';;gTeadT'rVh ^ '""""^rf °^ ^^^ P^-^ing
■policy. II. Wolfe and MonSm~Trr P^^"'''^-' '^^^^^ "^ ^'"'^ ^Pi^ted
Quebec. IV. The victory V Wollv i?'"P^''^f°"« ^^^ the attack on
ment in England of his death VII H^dV r'^^'lf- ^^- The announce-
the destinies of the world.''' VHl' Montcaim's'^'s't: ^.'S^^' ^^^ <=hanged
Generous rivalry of Canada anH fhl °V -f j c? •^'''*^wd reasoning." IX.
Canada intende'd for\'n"tuoTomf ^ftr^^' X^ll!''"' 1° ^'^'^- ^•
bemg^olved^^^ that is
Vther expressions than those which occTiVin ;7 '•"-""S"i=in:.s synouym, ur by substitutinff
ment of facts with the ornate one many'lhiLZr: ""'^^' ''^ <^°""-=»^"n/a bald 'S
St footprint
gift to the
i prize-cup
ce brought
ries whicli
3nfederacy
1 Canada ;
e Antilles ;
ghtly cast
the conti-
n; it will
then look
her of the
id aspires
lese memo-
ubject ?
■ places it
ind philo-
iry (13. I.,
preceding
's spirited
attack on
innounce-
i changed
ig." IX.
3oth. X.
m that is
«ses should
Jbstituting
bald state-
CHARLES SANGSTER.
Biographical.— Charles Sangster, who years ago established his claim
to a place in the foremost ranks of Canadian poets, was born on the i6th
of July, 1822, at the Navy Yard, Point Frederick, Kingston. His father,
who held the position of shipwright at one of the naval stations on the
Upper Lakes, died before his son was two years of age; and, although 5
sent regularly to school, the attainments of the future poet were for a time of
a modest character. When grown to manhood, however, he gradually sup-
plied by zealous application the defects of his early training. At the age
of fifteen, he was obliged to leave school to assist in supporting his mother,
and during the Rebellion of 1838 found employment in the Laboratory at 10
Fort Henry. Having afterwards occupied for ten years a humble position
in the Ordnance Office, Kingston, and seeing no prospect of promotion, he
resigned in 1849, and went to Amherstburg. Here he edited the Conner
till the death of its publisher in the following year. He then returned to
Kingston and entered the office of the Whig, his duties being nominally ,j
those of sub-editor. This situation he gave up in 1861, and in 1864 became
a reporter on the staff of the Daily Nctcs, resigning in 18G7 to enter the
Civil Service at Ottawa. From domestic causes Mr. Sangster has not of
f
I
m
•'* SI
H
ADVANCED READER.
late years cultivated hir, favorite pursuit ; but .vhat he has already accom-
20 plished has established his reputation beyond the bounds of his native land.
Works.— TAi' St. Lmi>nncc and the Sagiwnav, and oflr-i' Poems (1856) •
The leading poem celebrates in the Spenserian stanza the beauties and
sublimities of our two noblest rivers. It wants, however, the artistic finish
which longer practice enabled the author to give his later productions
25 Many of the other poems are remarkable for their fire and lyrical excel-
lence, and the whole volume shows his patriotism and his fondness for
nature. Hesperus, and other Poems (i860) : This volume is almost entirely
lyrical. In Hesperus, a Legend 0/ the Stars, the poet essays a lofty flight
occasionally, however, rising into the clouds. Amongst the remaining
30 pieces, probably the best are The Happy Harvesters, which supplies some
excelk^nt rustic songs and ballads ; The Falls of Chaudiire, a now well-
know 1 Canadian chant; and the touching series of poems under the title
Into the Silent Land. To use the words of Bayard Taylor, this volume is
"a decided improvement on the first, showing both more freshness and
35 more art, which is the highest requisite of poetry."
Critical.— Mr. Sangster's inspiration seldom comes from foreign sources •
he IS emphatically a Canadian poet. His fine descriptive power i- lavishlv
expended on Canadian scenery ; he is never more successful than when he
treats of Canadian themes; and his verses glow with manly patriotism
40 when he deals with events in the history of our country. Love and the
domestic affections often prompt his utterances; but the beauties of
nature provoke his passionate admiration : it is in descriptions of rural life
and rural scenery that his poetic powers are niost conspicuous In the
language of Dr. O. W. Holmes, "his verse adds a new interest to the
4.? woods and streams which he sings, and embellishes the charms of the
maidens he celebrates." Mr. Sangster possesses wid. human sympathies •
his imagination is lively; and a religious tone pervades his works On
suitable themes his diction rises to stateliness, and his vocabulary is
peculiarly rich. Mr. Sangster well deserves the praise of having held a
50 conspicuous place amongst those who laid the foundation-stone of Can-
adian literature.
!
SANGSTER.
15
Iready accom-
is native land.
Poems (1856) :
beauties and
artistic finish
productions,
lyrical excel-
fondness for
imost entirely
a lofty flight,
!ie remaining
luppHes some
a now well-
nder the title
his volume is
reshness and
■eign sources :
'er i" lavishly
han when he
ly patriotism
Love and the
beauties of
3 of rural life
lous. In the
terest to the
larms of the
sympathies ;
works. On
icabulary is
iving held a
one of Can-
OUR NORLAND.
We have no Dryads iti our woods.
No Fairies in the hills,
No Nereids in the crystal floods,
Nor Undines in the rills ;
No jolly Satyrs such as he.
The gentle Spenser, found
In that rare Dream of Chivalry
With which his muse is crowned :
No sacred Fawns, no Druid oaks.
No Sylvan deities,
No Ouphs to hold along the brooks
Their midnight revelries ;
No Ogres, guarding castle-keeps,
No Witches wild and lean,
No crafty Sirens from the deeps,
No Genii from the green :
No mellow-throated nightingales
Rousing the wilds with song.
While Echo waits through all the vales
The sweet notes to prolong ;
No larks, at heaven's coral gate,
To celebrate the day
In fiery strains, and passionate
Outljursts of lyric lay.
IS
90
Literary.— Name the metres of 7. Dream of Chivalry. Explain
the first two lines. Scan 11. 1-4. fully.
i 8. muse is crowned. Show force
of " crowned."
Note that this poem is the develop-
ment of one main thought by the use
of Contrast and an emphatic enu-
meration of particulars (12, IV., 5),
with the poet's reflections thereon.
21. heaven's coral gate. Is this
description true to nature ?
23-24. fiery strains lyric lay.
Criticise appropriateness.
Elocution.'vry.— What is the prevailing quality, time, force, etc., re-
quired in reading this lesson ? (III., 1-5.)
1. Pause after " Dryads," and all other emphatic words. (III., 7 and 8.)
6. Connect " found " with the line following.
23-24. Connect "passionate " with "outbursts."
f
'
I ■ f
^ 1
I.
1
1
3°
35
40
^^ ADVANCED READER.
But we have birds of plumage bright,
And wrrblers in our woods,
Whose hearts are well-springs of delight,
Whose haunts, the solitudes—
The dim, untrodden wilderness,
Where wildness reigns supreme-
God's solemn temple none the less
Than some romantic dream ;
Vast ev'n beyond the thought of man,
Magnificently grand ;
Coeval with the first great plan
From Nature's artist-hand :
Deep within deep, and wild on wild.
In savage roughness rolled.
Grandeur on grandeur heaped and piled
Through lusty days of old :
The stern-browed cape, the lofty peak
Round which the mists are curled.
Whence Fancy not in vain might seek
The circle of the world :
Broad inland seas and lovely lakes
Their tribul-s seaward pour
O'er cataracts, whose thunder shakes
The granite-belted shore :
The rugged oak, the regal pine,
Our woodland monarchs, these.
Whose strong arms nursed the circling vine
Through countless centuries ;
28. haunts. Parse. .-, ^, t-^^ .
43-44- Paraphrase.
31-36. Paraphrase, and parse "tem- \ 40-48. Point out the Imitative Har-
ple and "none." | mony. (12, IV., 4.)
Zl. Vast. Parse. I 48- graaite-belted. Is this to be
i taken literally ?
emp'tfal.''?z;\v.',6.)" ^""^^ " ^.f"' '^^''^' Note position. (:2, IV.,
27. Pause after "hearts," also after "haunts," in 28
(II?: i^Tan^rfV^"'^ ''°''^^' ^'"^ ^"'^ '""'' '""^"'"^ '"*° °'°'""'^-
45
50
CHARLES SANGSTER.
17
Their reign was from the days of eld,
Their hosts were mif^hty peers,
Who fought and fell as time compelled
The battle of the years.
We have no feudal castles old.
Like eyries perched on high,
Whence issue knights or barons bold,
To ravage and destroy;
But we've the remnant of a race
As bold and brave as they,
Whether in battle or the chase —
The Red Man of to day.
How brave — how great — in days of yore,
Their scanty legends tell ;
The soul a-hungered craves for more.
But lo! beneath the swell
Of Time's resistless, onward roll,
The unwritten secrets lie.
No voice from out the distant goal,
No answer but a sigh.
For Time, like some old miser, keeps
The record of the Tribes,
And will not yield it from the deeps
For promises or bribes.
What mighty Chiefs ! what Sachems gray I
What multitudes of Braves !
But what remains of those to-day ?
A continent of graves !
And in their stead the Old World pours
Its streams of living men —
55
60
6s
70
75
80
56. battle. Parse.
57-64. Examine the rhyme. What
are here contrasted ? Is the Anti-
thesis a good one ? (12, IV., 8.)
67-76. Trace the Metaphor (12.
IV., 2), and point out the simile. (12,
IV.. 9.)
71. goal. Criticise the aptness of
this word. (13, I., 2, c.)
79. those. Criticise use.
o orotund.
65. How brave. (III., 8, c.)
68. Prolong the sound of " swell,
u
! !
I i
I ■
ifi
85
90
9S
ADVANCED READER.
Its he'^rts of oak — alonjf our shores
To peoj)le hill and glen ;
To battle through a nation's youth
Until, by heaven's grace,
We rise, in freedom and in truth.
Another British race.
Stand up, then, in thy youthful pride,
O nation yet to be,
And wed this great land to its bride,
The broad Atlantic Sea ;
Fling out Britannia's flag above
Our heaven-born endeavor.
Our chain of waves — one chain of love-
Uniting us forever.
THE VOLTIGEUKS OF CHATEAUGUAY.
fnrmir°"?'"'J~^"""^ ^^^ ^^^ °f ^812 the United States Government
r™r iS''" ?"" the conquest of Lower Canada. Two armies under
MnmrS {^"""Pri? ''"'' Wilkinson were to move simultaneously against
Montreal from different quarters, and, after taking this city, the united
forces were to descend the St. Lawrence, and capture guebec^ wflk^Json
however, having been defeated at the battle of Chrysler's Farm solm
th^ rlnr^" ^° *^^ American side; and Hampton, as he was descending
r.f ,X? V l!''"''^' '"'*'' 7.c?oo men, encountered Colonel de Salaberry's force
Ind1^« H^'''"'''' '^'' ''f^ht-armed infantry, and a few Highlanclers and
«fr„.. 1 ^'''"'"« selected a favorable position, the Canadian leader con-
structed some defensive works. Here, shortly afterwards, (October 22nd,
lll^'}^^^/'^^^^^^^^i^y'ti^rupton,^,■hobad divided his troops into two
corps. The poem is descriptive of some of the incidents in the battle.
Our coimtry was as a stripling then,
Young in years, but of mettle true ;
Now, how proudly our bearded men
Look back and smile at what youth can do.
91-92. Explain.
94- For meaning, cf. 11. 86-88.
i-io. Scan and name the metres.
2-4. Is this thought an appropriate
contrast to what precedes ?
89-96. Read this stanza with orotund quality and loud force.
, I. Pure tone, moderate time and force. Pause after " country " "Then"
IS strongly emphatic and contrasted with "now,- in the th?rd line
3. Pause after " proudly." Connect closely "bearded men look back "
can do!"" '''''"'''"'''"''"'' "'"'^"•" ^^^^d ^^ °"« ^o^d "vvhat youth
CHARLES SANOSrilK
19
ites Government
armies under
meously against
city, the united
Dec. Wilkinson,
;r's Farm, soon
was descending
ialaberry's force
lighlanders and
lian leader con-
(October 22nd,
troops into two
1 the battle.
do.
t an appropriate
;edes ?
rce.
itry." "Then"
rd line.
3n look back."
1 " what youth
Hampton mif,Oit threaten with odds thrice told ;
The youiif,^ blood leaped to attack the foe,
Winning the fields as in days of old,
With a few stout hearts that braver grow
Though ten to one the invaders be :
Like the Voltigeurs of Chateauguay.
The sun rose fair that October morn,
Kindling the blaze in the autumn hues ;
Pride in each eye ; every lip breathed scorn ;
Stay life— coine death—not an inch we'll lose-
Not a square inch of the sacred soil ;
Hopeful, and firm, and reliant all.
To souls like these there is no recoil:
If spared— they live ; if they fall— they fall.
No braver battled on land or sea
Than the Voltigeurs of Chateauguay.
No threatening ramparts barred the way,
No bristling bastions' fiery glare ;
Yet scarce three hundred scorned the fray,
Impatient, in the abattis there.
"On ! " Hampton cried, " for the day is ours;"
Three thousand men at his boastful heels ;
"On!" as they passed through the leaden showers.
Many a scoflfer to judgment reels.
True hearts — true shots — like their ancestry,
Were the Voltigeurs of Chateauguay.
«s
2S
30
7. Winning— days of old.
trate from hi;.tory.
Illus-
10. Like — Chateauguay. What
is the grammatical relation of this
phrase ? Observe the refrain at the
end of each stanza.
12. Kindling. Show aptness and
full force.
14. Rewrite in ordinary prose form.
16. What figure? what effect ? (12,
IV., 7 and 10.)
23. scorned the fray. Force of
" scorned" ?
16. Pause after " reliant ; " make " all " emphatic.
18. Risinf inflection on "scared." and falling on " live"
20. Make a slight pause alter " Voltigeurs."
25. On I— for the day is ours. High pitch, loud force. " On," (III., 5.)
26. Read in a lower pitch, and more slowly than the preceding.
20
M
M
*i
1 .
I|h
1
: 1
: J
I , ^
If
1
i
.( .
3S
40
45
50
55
ADVANCED READER.
From bush and swamp sped the rattling hail,
As the fusilade grew sharp and keen ;
Tirailleur— chasseur— loud the wail
Where their deadly bullets whi/zed unseen.
Here, Schiller stands like a wolf at bay ;
De vSalaberry— Macdonell, there ;
And wherr Hampton's masses barred the way,
Press Ixi Chesnay, Daly, and Bruyere :
And their bold commander — who but he
Led the Voltigeurs of Chateauguay ?
No bi ief disaster can daunt the brave ;
The soil is theirs— shall they own defeat ?
Perish the wretch, without grace or grave.
Who would not death ere dishonor greet !
In every breast of that scornful band.
Such was the answer, engraven deep ;
At every point, on either hand,
"Thrice armed," on the jeering foe they leap ;
Who rolJii.g back like the ebbing sea,
Met the Voltigeurs of Chateauguay.
"See to the ford!— not a man shall pass!"
Gallantly done ! how the foe disperse !
Routed, and broken like brittle glass,
Nothing'is left them but flight and curse.
"They are five to one! " baffled Hampton cried ;
"Better retreat until fairer days."
WW
3 J. Tirailleur. Parse.
35-36. What are the emphatic
places in a sentence ? (12, II., 2, a.)
39 commander. Cf. 1. 33. ob-
serve that for poetic effect the sen-
tence which is begun as a declarative
one, is turned into the interrogative
form. (12, IV., r8 and 12.)
49- Who— sea. Explain the simi-
le. (12, IV.. 9.)
33- See (III., 8, c,/.)
34. Prolong the sound of " whizzed."
43- Perish. (III., 5.)
51. Loud force, high pitch.
tle^iasl''"^^ "■^'"" " ''""^'''^ ' " ^°""''''' ''^"^''^^' ^^"^ '''°'''^'' " ^"^^^^^^ ^'^^ ^"-
55. They are five to one I High pitch. Read "baffled Hampton cried "
in a lower tone, and return to the pitch of " oi;e," on " better."
hail,
seen.
way,
e
t?
' leap ;
CHARLES SANOSTER.
21
cried ;
as a declarative
le interrogative
id 12.)
jcplain the simi-
Thc three thv:)usancl ily, hunibkul in pride,
And the brave three hundred ^dve God the praise.
Honor and fame to the humlreds three;
To the Voltif^eurs (it Chateaiif^iiuy ! <So
Yes, God be praised ! — we are still the same ;
First to resist, and the last to yield;
lieady to press throuj^'h the fiery flame,
When Duty calls to the teijied field.
And if I ^ or again the foe should set 65
A hostile foot on the soil we love,
Sucli dauntless souls as of yore they met
His miglit and valor wdl amply prove:
True hearts — true shots — like their ancestry,
And the Voltigeurs of Chateauguay. J°
07. they. Who?
I 68. His. Whose? prove. Meaning?
57. thousand. (III., 8, ,f.)
f)i. Read " (iod be praised " with higher pitch and louder force than the
rest of the line.
63, 64. To be read
e quickly than 62.
1. Classify " Our Norland " and " The Voltigeurs." (2, 4.)
2. Show by examples that they illustrate the following characteristics of
the author ; — Powers of description, (j, I.); fondness for nature; patriot-
ism; strength, (13, II., i); and harmony of sound and sense, (i ^ III., 2).
3. Criticise them under the following heads : — Accuracy and perspicuity,
(13. I)
Composition.
I. Express in one sentence the thought in " Our Norland."
II. Paraphrase " The Voltigeurs of Chateauguay."
iroken like bri-
impton cried "
r."
! t!
1
1
-..-.J
THE VERY REV. GEORGE MONRO GRANT, D.D.
Principal of Queen's University, Kingston.
Biographical.— Dr. Grant, who is of Scottish parentage, was born on
the 22nd of December, 1835, at Stelhrton, I'ictou County, Nova Scotia.
On his family's removal to I'ictou, he attended the Academy of that town,
and won the silver medal of the institution. When -ixteen years of age
5 he entered the West River Seminary of the Presbyterian Church in Nova
Scotia, and, after two years' study, was elected by the Synod of the Old
Kirk to one of its Bursaries in connection with the University of Glasgow.
Here he won distinction in various departments, taking the highest honors
in Philosophy at his cxaiuination for M.A., and the Lord Rector's Prize
'o for the best Essay on Hindoo Literature and Philosophy. On the com-
GEORGE MONRO GRANT
23
NT, D.D.
was born on
Nova Scotia,
of that town,
years of age
urch in Nova
od of the Old
y of Glasgow,
ighest honors
lector's Prize
On the com-
„i,,i<,n of his theological course, in iSr,o, ho re. u nod t<. Nova bcnt.n, . nd
'^n^nding son; time as a missionary in the Mar.t.nje 'rov.n..^
h me Pastor of St. Matthew's Church, Halifax, a pos.t.on he held untd
boc.imc 1 astor ,,f the Princinalshio of Oueen's University, Kings-
':TZ^\Z S";:!^iJ mdlL hi stufretained the .>nd..ss .. .
rature\shich had characterized him at the Un.versUy, but the en
o^^^^^^^^^ of his ministerial office prevented hin. fronj engagmg to any
"' ! " vtent in literary pursuits. The amount of work he did m connec-
fCn . ^ cllh ::hi;s and benevolent and education^d ^"terpnses^was
. n K- L^reat • and though some of them were undertaken m the fate ot .0
:: ; fficulUes', h z al and nobility of character secured for him friends
gt all denominations and a personal popularity that has seldom be^^^
rrnassed As President of Queen's College. Dr. C.rant has been con pic-
"iTs ccessful. His undoubted ability, independence, and liberality of
pit-ha"e obtained for him in Ontario an influence th.at is remarka 1 . .5
ronsclerina the shortness of his tenure of office; whilst his fervent man-
r ^ "nthi^iasm as a teacher, combined with great e-«^-Umsmess
shrewdness, have been mainly instrumental in securing for Queen s Us
present prosperity.
WoRKs-CRiTiCAL.-In the summer of 1872, Dr. Grant accompanied as 30
secrtar" Mr Sandford Fleming, C.K.. on his tour of i-pect.on o the
nropose 1 route of the Canadian Pacihc l^ailway. During the three months
spen in the overland passage he kept a diary of "the ^l-f things they
saw or heard, and of the impressions they formed respecting the country
as hey journeyed from day lo day and converged with each "jher o,. th 3S
suliecl '' This, •' transcribed almost verbally." was '-^^terwards published
"Ir the title of Oc.an to Ocean. In his "^^ductory cha^j^^er h^^
disclaims any intention of sacrificing to mere literary effect the nUhfulness
o whThe -felt and saw ; " but the vividness and freshness of the descnp-
io so travi ami scenery, that form the main feature of the book more .0
1 compensate for faults of construction which were ""^voidable unde
the circumstances of its production. The volume was well received, and
ht done much to excite lo interest of Canadians in the ^oundle^ re^urces
of their Western possessions. His magazine and newspaper artic es, and
ll work fn connection with Pictures,,. Cuuia, of which he is editor-in- .s
chief also display much literary skill, an easy flexible style, and a pmver
of graplc description that often rises into brilliancy. These pnuluctions
are "ilently but'the first fruits of a career of literary industry from which
much may yet be expected.
tmummammmtmrnm
24
ADVANCED READER.
mi f'l
i
'
i-
! s<.,
1 i
1 •
i
i
1, :
(
i ')
'1 ^
r
THE DISCOVERER OF CANADA.
From " Picturesque Canada."
Canada has not much of a past, but all that it has from
Jacques Cartier's day clusters round the cannon-girt promon-
tory of Quebec ; not much of a present, but in taking stock of
national outfit, Quebec should count for something ; indeed,
5 would count with any people. We have a future, and with it
that great red rock, and the red cross flag that floats over it,
are inseparably bound up. The glowing pages of Parkman
reveal how much can be made of our past. A son of the soil
like Le Moine, who has an hereditary right to be animated by
10 the ffcui us loci, whose BoswelMike conscientiousness in chroni-
cling everything connected with the sacred spot deserves all
honorable mention, may exaggerate the importance of the
city and the country, its past and its present. But truer far
his extreme— if extreme it be- -than Voltaire's or La Pompa-
15 dour's, and their successors' in our own day. The former
thought France well rid of " fifteen thousand acres of snow,"
with an appreciation of the subject like unto his estimate of
those " yiii/s mismibles," about whose literature the world
was not likely to trouble itself much longer when it could get
aothe writings of the French Philosophes instead. The latter
heartily agreed with him, for — with Montcalm dead — " at last
Literary —1-5. Canada— people.
Account for the Metaphor in the
latter part of this sentence. What
effect on style have figures from such
sources ?
6. that— it. Note the Imitative
Harmony in the Alliteration and
monosyllabic structure. (12, IV., 4.)
5, 8. Note the position of " future "
and "past." (12, II., 2, a.)
15 successors'— day. Who are
meant? former. Who? Criticise use.
i8-2o. about— instead. Point out
the Irony. (12, IV., 13.)
18-20. Is the introduction of foreign
words allowable ? (13, I., i, b.)
21-22. Contrast the attitude of
France towards Montcalm with that
of Flngland towards Wolfe. Account
for the difference.
Elocutionarv.— For prevailing tone, force, etc., see note on "Wolfe
and Old Quebec."
,. ^'.^'S- Emphatic pause after "past," "present," "future." What is
the inflection on each ?
i\\\ V '\ '"^^^^^ ^^^ ^°"^" ^^'K^'^'y '" reading the pareulheli-j clauses.
15. 20. The former ; the latter. What inflection is there on each ?
GEORGE MONRO GRANT.
25
tlic King will have a chance of sleeping in peace." To us it
seems that the port v.hich for a century and a half was the
head-quarter^ of France in the New World, the door by
which she entered and which could be closed agauist all .5
others, the centre from which she aimed at the conquest ot a
vir-in continent of altogether imknown extent, and from which
her'' adventurous children set forth-long-robed missionaries
leading the ^ay, trappers and soldiers foUowing-unti they
had established themselves at every strategic point on the ^.t. 30
Lawrence, the Great Lakes, the Ohio, and the Mississippi
from the Falls of St. Anthony to New Orleans, must always
have historical and poetic significance. The city and the
Province which for the next hundred and twenty years have
remained French in appearance and French to the core, yet 35
have fought repeatedly and are ready to fight again side by
side with the red-coats of Great Britain,-the best proof sure y
that men can give of loyal allegiance ;-which preserve o <
Norman and Breton customs and traits and moties of thought
and faith that the Revolution has submerged in the France ot 40
their forefathers, fondly nursing the seventeenth centmy in the
lap of the nineteenth, must, perhaps beyond any other spot in
North America, have an interest for the artist and the states-
man. . T J
In the sixteenth century the gallant Francis L made seven 45
attempts to give France a share in that wonderful New W orld
which Columbus had disclosed to an unbelieving generation;
but, like his attempts in other directions, they came to nothing.
In 1535 he out three little vessels under the orders of Jacques
Cartier, a kilful navigator, a pious and brave man, we 1 50
worthy of the patent of nobility which he afterwards received,
instructing him to proceed up the broad wat--way he had dis-
.) Turn them into loose
sentences.
33. poetic significance. Why so?
J4-J5. next anil have remained.
48. like-
referretl to ?
llxpliiin the re-
directions. What are
I
! I
26
ADVANCED READER.
I
covered the year before, until he reached the Indies. His
duties were to win new reahns for Mother Church, as a com-
55 pensation for those slie was losinj; throuf,di Lutheran and Cal-
vmistic heresies, and to l)ring hack his schooners full of yellow
gold and rosy pearls. Thus would his labors redound to the
glory of God and the good of France.
Jacques Cartier crossed the ocean and sailed up the magni-
60 ficent water-way, piously giving to it the name of the Saint
on whose fete-day he had first entered its wide-extended por-
tals. For hundreds of miles the river kept its great breadth,
more like a sea than a river, till the huge bluff of Quebec,
seen from afar, appeared to close it abruptly against farther
65 advance. By means of this bluff thrust into the stream and
the opposite point of Levis stretching out to meet it, the view
is actually narrowed to three-quarters of a mile.
Coasting up between the north shore and a large beautiful
island, he came, on the 14th of September, to the mouth of a
70 little tributary, which he called the Ste. Croix, from the fete
celebrated on that day. Here he cast anchor, for now the
tmie had come to land and make inquiries. It needed no
prophet to tell that the power which held that dark red bluff
would hold the key to the country beyond. The natives, with
75 their chief, Donnacona, paddled out in their birch-bark canoes
to gaze upon the strange visitants who had in great white-
winged castles surely swooped down upon them from another
world. Cartier treated them kindly. They willingly guided
him through the primeval forest to their town on the banks of
80 the little river, and to the summit of the rock under the shadow
of which they had built their wigwams. What a landscape
for an explorer to gaze upon ! Shore and forest bathed in the
mellow light of the September sun for forty miles up and down
both sides of the glorious stream ! Wealth enough there to
8i satisfy even a king's pilot and captain-general. Between the
summit and the river far below he may have seen amid the
72-74. It— beyond. Why did it
need no prophet to do this ?
77. surely. Acconnt for imc.
77. swooped. Does this word suit
the context ? (ij, I., 2, c.)
68-152. Note the author's powers
of graphic description. (13, II., i.)
81 04. What -stream! Classify
these sentences. (12, IV., 15.)
84. Wealth. Explain.
GEORGE MONRO GRANT
27
(>)
1)5
,„,e the «,ittcr of .ho .uavt. "y-]^^ f™:;::';;;Ven:,;nl ^
afterwards received .t. nam. o C.^^ J^^ • ' - ^ , ,,.„„,.
on his next voyaKC he gathered H^""^" ■ ^f_ ,,„,,.
But the great attraction mu:>t have l.cen the . l%c
g ;ast with the tribute of a„ ""'<;«'-> -"';'^'- ^: "ad
vaters swept rotn.l the feet of - '"f ^]^ f ;,„,, ,i,h, up
cast a stone into the <=>'"™:; f"';' '"«' , ,< lan.l that ..ow
,0 the base of the roek. The nariou s p c ^^
extends between rock -^ nver, cr„wde.|^u tl tl, ^ ^^^^ ^^^^^
Champlain Street, was not here then ^ ^^^
won from the waters and the ■-; ' ;^^' ^'^orld cannot
land even the botmdless spaces o the Nev^ ^^
satisfy. Tire ground tlrat sloped down '"= ^^^ ^„^,^^^^,
the nronth of which his vessels '"y " ""^'l";,;™ „,,,, and
with the finest hardwood '-"--(^'"^^.V.^^'^f'^D 'nnacona's
n>aple-and among Urese -^^-^^^ ™ Stadacona. To
tribe could be seen. Thc> callul tne Om,bec.
,Ws day no name is more P"!™'""^;^;;' ^ tan a skating
\nv new enterprise that may be projecteu, "
dnk to a bank or steamship company, prefers St,>dacona
any other name. Tourmente and round the horizon
All the way down to Cap Tourmente, a , , ,
f 1 K.r tli*> fir.clc'' 'd summits ot tlie i^aureiuui^;
formed by the hr cu -o ,„,,..,„„ ^n unbroken forest
enclosed the w,de-extended '■^"'J ,<=^''; |^ '„„ cape Dutmond
ranged. The picture, seen ^^ ''>" ^;'»' el The sun shines
to-day, is as fair as f;7«Xcnd the continuous vista ot
on the gl.ttenng roofs of Quebec imi
clean white hou s extendn,g n, le '^''^^ ^ J^J ,„„ ,.,„
of Montmoreno and on culfvate , '^^^l^J^^^^^,,^
r^'Hrrt^tst"ntvS;;.:;:'^>car,:;.
soul swelled with the e.t.otions of a d.scoverer, w,.h exulta.on
105
1 10
t20
01. tribute—continent. Explain. |
108-111. All -ranged. Classify j
this sentence. (12, li., 1, '■ ; j
114. white riband. What part of |
the Montmorency is referred to ?
115. Why is there no comma after
"Still"?
J J- Hades. Is this word ayn '
120. Why is there no conjnncUon
before the second "with"?
m i
;i '' <i
' ■ i- '
i If .
lift'
*'ll
Ml'
28
ADVASCEli RE \DER.
and boundless hope. Did it not belong to him ? did it not
almost owe its existence to liim ? And he v/as giving it all to
(jO(1 and to P'rancr,
Donnacona iold the strangers of a fa? greater town than his,
125 many days' journev ur< tlte river. So Cartier placed his two
largest vessels within ine jnouth of the Ste. Croix, or the St.
Charles as the Recollets called it in the next century, and
pursued his way, overcoming the obstacles of St. Peter's
Lake, to Hochelaga. Tnc natives there received him as if he
'3° were a god, bringing- fish and corn-cakes, and throwing them
into the boats in surli profusion that they seemed to fall
through the air like ra?n or snow. Cartier could not help
falling in love with the country. The palisaded town nesthng
under the shadows of Mount Royal was surrounded by fertile
'35 fields. Autumn showered its crimson and gold on the forests,
turning the mountain into an immense picture suspended high
in air, glowing with a wealth of color that no European
painter would dare to put on canvas. The river swept on,
two miles wide, with a conquering force that indicated vast
MO distances beyond, new realms waiting to be discovered. All
the way back to Quebec the marvellous tints of the forest, and
the sweet air and rich sunsets of a Canadian autumn accom-
panied the happy Frenchmen. Had they now turned their
prows homeward, what pictures of the new country would
145 they have held up to wondering listeners ! Nothing could
have prevented France from precipitating itself at once upon
Canada. But the natives, accustomed to the winters, uttered
no note of warning to the strangers, and, therefore, although
Cartier rejoined his con: ^s at Quebec on the nth of Octo-
150 ber, he delayed till the i' . iw.g issued his ''ne exeat:' Then he
and they soon leaii , ' : t the golden shield had another side.
127-129. and — Hoc'k 's-g-a. Is 1 137-138. Why should a European
this the best possible :vsrarement 1 painter not dare to do so ?
of the parts of the senf> > ' (12,
VI., 3.)
135-145. Note the brilliai d-
painting of this passage. (i_^ i.)
li^'-iiV- immense — air. Explain.
143-145- Classify this sentence.
(12, IV.. 15.)
144-145. pictures. Explain. Note
"listeners."
151 golden shield. Explain i.u
Allusion. (12, IV., 14.)
121-122. What inflection is here required ? (III., 6, a.)
GEORGE MONRO GRA\'T.
29
To Canadians, winter is simply one of tlu> four seasons.
The summer and autumn suns ripen all the crops that ^'row
i„ England or the north of France, and in no temperate
climate is more than one crop a year expected. 1 he Iros ,55
and snow of winter are hailed in their turn, not only as useful
friends, but as ministers to almost all the anuisements of the
vear-the sleighing, skating, snow-shoeing, ice-boatmg, tobog-
Lning-that both sexes and all classes delight m. 1 he
frost does much of our subsoil ploughing. Snow is not only .r«
the best possible mulch, shading and protecting the soil at no
cost but its manurial value gives it the name of "the poor
man's manure." The ice bridges our lakes and nvers. A
good snow-fall means roads without the trouble o. road-
making, not only to kirk and market, but throtigh thick .6.
woods, over cradle-hills, and away into the lumber regions.
An insufticient supply of snow and ice is a national calr.uiity ;
and excess can never be so bad as the pall that covers Eng-
land and Scotland hali the year, and makes the people take ^^^
their pleasures sadly." . '^°
But we are prepared for winter. Jacques Cartier was not,
and very heavily its hand fell upon him, as it did subsequently
on Champlain when he first wintered at Quebec. " Trom the
middle of November to the 18th of April, the ice and snow
shut us in " wrote the brave and pious captain. Ice increased ,75
upon ice. Snow fell upon snow. The great river that no
power known to man could fetter, was bound fast. Every-
thing froze. The breath that came from their mouths, he
verv blood in their veins seemed to freeze. Night and day
their limbs were benumbed. Thick ice formed on the sides of .80
their ships, on decks, masts, cordage, on everything to which
moisture attached itself. Snow wreathed and curled in at
every crevice. Every tree had its load. A walk in the woods
was an impossibility, and there was nowhere else to walk
Confined within their narrow domain, and living on salted X85
153. summer and autumn suns
Where ?
170-188. Observe the abrupt style
, : (12, II., I, b) and the vivid character
'^^ . , .„ of the description. (13, II., i )
158. What effect on the style has "^ " I J
this enumeration ? (12, IV., 16.) and 17G-177. no-fetter. Dotsthib
(13, II., i) convey the meaning intended f
168. pall. Explain fully. '
30
ADVANCED READER.
food, scurvy seized upon the lielpless prisoners. What was
to be done ? Cartier had recourse to lieaven, receiving, how-
ever, the same minimum of practical answer that was given
l)y Hercules to /Esop's waggoner. A modern writer of scru-
lyo pulous accuracy describes naively the appeal and its boot-
lessness: "When eight were dead and more than fifty in a
helpless state, Cartier ordered a solemn religious act, which
v/as, as it were, the first public exercise of the Catholic religion
in Canada, and the origin of those processions and pilgrimages
,95 which have since been made in honor of Mary, to claim her
intercession with God in great calamities. Seeing that the
disease had made such frightful ravages, he set his crew to
prayer, and made them carry an image or statue of the
Virgin Mary over the snow and ice, and caused it to be placed
200 against a tree about an arrow's flight away from the fort.
He also commanded that on the following Sunday mass
should be sung in that place and before that image, and that
all those who were able to walk, whether well or ill, should
go in the procession— singin, ihe seven penitential psalms of
20s David, with the Litany, praying the Virgin to entreat her
dear Son to have pity upon us." On that day mass was
celebrated before the image of Mary, even chanted, Cartier
tells us ; apparently the first occasion of a high mass in
Canada. At the same time Cartier gave another special
210 proof of his vivid and tender trust in Mary, promising to make
a pilgrimage in her honor to Roquemadour, should he be
spared to return to France. " Nevertheless, that very day,
Philip Rougemont, a native of Amboise, twenty years old,
died ; and the disease became so general that of all who were
215 in the three ships there were not three imtouched, and in one
of the ships there was not one man who could go into the holU
to draw water for himself or the others." Despair fell upon
the poor wretches. They gave up hope of ever seeing France
again. Cartier alone did not despair, and the dawn followed
189. Show that the description | tence may this word be placed .
quoted is a naive one. Note particu
larly 11. 212-214.
208. occasion. Parse.
210. vivid and tender. Explain.
214. died. Where else in the sen- style of 11. 170-188.
Criticise. (12, VI.. i.)
219-220. dawn — hour. What pro-
verb expresses this ?
216-250. Compare w'th this the
GEOKCE MONRO ORAXT.
31
the (Inrkcst hour. One o
f the Indians told hun of "the most >
ex(
luisite remedy that ever was
a decoction composed of tin
leaves an(
I bark of the white spruce
lie achninistereil the
I iu eiL'ht days the sick were re-
The icy fetters
mechcine without stint, ant
^' r'.'^wthe lon« crud .hUcr wore aw.y. The icy .eUers ..
relaxed Uk-I, kh,. of land and river. Under w»™ ^ ', ^
,1, ...n rose thrillinL' the dead trees nlto life. Anud tnc nic
: ir^-rgra-s and damty s.ard.ke flowers sprang «
^Vldy'asin atot-honse. Cartier P-.;- ,, '; t' 1 'e' 1 ..
Latm . yj^^^'^J"'' , , French " Then treacherously
•rrnre ot God, Kuit^ ot tlic ircncM. X
.nn^ Donnacona on hoard ship, t., l.e --^' ^^^^^^ -
Kn'^'of Stadacona to the Kin, of France, he set sad for St.
"^N^ihin, came of this, the second voyage "^ ^arti.- -ul
little wonder. What advantages did Canada offer o nuU ct
n o eave home? What tales could the travellers td, .o
v of black forests, deep snow, thick ice, Btarvmg Iml - ,
and all-devouring scurvy ? But Cart.er was -otd.^r^
ind six vears afterwards F-n-cs resolved to try a am.
Role alC commissioned . i.und a permanent settle-
me . He sent Cartier ahead, and Cartier tned a Cap .s
Rote above Quebec, the Indians of Stadacona naturay
noS; not making him welcome. But tl- expernnen d d
not Succeed. The time had not come, ^-.r Y a c-tu^^
was to pass away before the true father of New 1 ranee ^^
the founder of Quebec— would appear.
239-242. Note the Erotesis. (12,
IV., 18.) Substitute declarative sen-
tences for those in the text.
246-247. naturally enough. Why
so?
24 T, Falling inflection on " forests," " snow," etc. Why ' d^^ , 6, «, d.)
I. CI : .ify this extract. ^3.)
2 Point out evamples of Dr. Grant's simplicity nd accuracy ot lan-
guag'^ '- T., 2, and c) ; and ability to combine into .nM sentc" :e a lar^.^
numoe; - paiticulars,
! i
32
ADVANCED READER.
n
3. WhatclasHof sentenco prevails? (i^, II.) Refer to passages illus-
trativ" ' ! t!.. ;. iodic, Loose, and Balanced structure of sentence.
4. Show that the rules for the construction of paragraphs are well
observed. (12, III.)
5. Give a list, with examples, of the different means by which Dr. Grant
has secured the strength and brilliancy of his style, (i .^ III., r.)
6. What elegancies of style occur ? (ij, III.) Give examples.
Composition.
Reproduce, in one or more exercises, the substance of the preceding ex-
tract under the following heads:— I. Relation of Ouebec »o our past and
future. II. Different estimates of its importance. III. Quebec of interest
to the historian, poet, artist and statesm xn. IV. Jacques Cartier's voyage
up the St. Lawrence — Ste. Croix, Donnacona, Stadacona. V. View from
ynebec ihen and now. VI. Autumn at Mount Royal. VII. ( rtier's
fii >t winter in Canada. VIII Failu of this expedition.
CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS, M.A.
BioGRAPHiCAi.,— Chas. G, D. Roberts, the youngest poet , Dominion,
was born in 1851J at Sackville, N. L He was educated m Fred( icton,
where his father was Rector, and in 1879 graduated with honors 1 the
Univors'ty of Nev. Brunswick. Mr. Roberts is now Principal of the I'ork
5 Street School at Fredericton, N. B.
Works. — Orion and other Poems, The leading poem in this volume is
founded on a touching incident in the old mythical story of Orion. Diana's
favorite deems himself worthy of "maiden-lipped, snow-breasted Merope,"
whose fatiier (Enopiun consents to the marriage on condition that the
10 mighty hunter should free his '.and /rem wild beasts. Aided by " kindly
rninistrap'' )rion performs his t.\sK anu returns victorious as CEnopion is
sar "licing 10 Apollo. The king, though he promises the reward, has him
d; . d .-•' (i blinded. Then follow some of the finest passages— the chorus
of N ds, the lamentation of Orion, the gaining of the uplands where
«5 th^ .osy bc.ims of morning are to restore his lost sight, the break of day
and the coming forth of Eo and the journey to Di 'os of the goddess and
the hero. Of the other poems, it is not too much to say that all have
merit, "Ariadne," "Memnon," "Sappho," "Ode to Dro ■ sihood," and
"An Ode to Night," being of unusual excellence.
20 Critical.— Although, to use the author's words, these poems are but
" first fruits, Rathered by distant ways,
In brief, sweet moments of toilsome days,"
Mr. Roberts' verse is remarkable no less for its arti;;tic finish than for its
intensity and sweetness. His language is well chosen, his taste delicatCi
as and his numbers harmonious, many of his productions showing, in both
spirit and form, a diligent and appreciative study of Greek models. Imag-
ROBERTS.
33
ages
illus-
ce.
. nre
well
Dr. (
irant
30
illative power he possesses in no small deRree, anfl his poetic fervor is a
steady glow which frequently bursts forth into brilliant flashes, I-or so
young a man Mr. Roberts has been eminently successful. He has, indeed.
"felt the spell that lifts asunder
Soul from body, when lips faint and thounht is strong."
Vlthough somewhat under the influence of the English lyrical poets, he
.lisnlays marked originality, and in the near future will, no doubt, realize
, liigh hopes which these "first-fruits ' justify his countrymen in enter-
taining.
BROTHER CUTHRERT.
CuTHHERT, open ; let me in !
Cease your praying for a minute !
Here the darkness seems to grin,
Hold a thousand horrors in it ;
Down the stony corridor
Footsteps pace the stony floor.
Here they foot it, pacing slow.
Monk-like, one behind another :
Don't you hear me ? Don't you know
I'm a Httle nervous, Brother ?
Won't you speak ? Then, by your leave.
Here's a gu' l lut Christmas Eve.
Shrive me, but I got a fright !
Monks of centuries ago
10
Literary.— Explain clearly what
is meant by a Dramatic Lyric. (4,
II., 5.) Throughout the poem note,
and bring < t the causes of, the
changes that succeed one another in
the monk's mood and attitude. Where
is the monk when he begins to speak ?
x-6. Scan and name the metres.
3 grin. Show the exact force.
4 Hold. Parse.
II. Won't. Contrast with " wont "
as to etymology and pronunciation.
11-13. What does the monk do at
this point? Describe his attitude
and state of feeling as represented in
1. 13
ELoruTioNARY.— Begin in a loud, high-pitched tone, such as one would
use in demanding admittan* e, pausing after each command. Read lines
^-6 in a slightly lower conversational tone.
9, 10. High pitch, rising inflection.
II. Read "Then by your leave," etc., in a lower tone.
13 Read this as if almost breathless from fright. (III., i, a.)
c
34
ADVANCED READER
IS
( si • 1
;i
II
ao
as
30
35
Wander back to see to-night
How the old place looks : — Holloa !
This the kind of watch you keep —
Come to pray — antl go to sleep !
Shame, man ! Keep your vigil ! Wake !
Double penance else your bones
Soon will pay with wrench and ache
For your tempting couch of stones.
Hard and cold your couch and cell.
Brother, yet you slumber well !
All, this mortal flesh is weak !
Who is saintly there's no saying.
Here are tears upon his cheek ;
And he sleeps, that should be praying,-
Sleeps and dreams, and murmurs : Nay,
I'll not wake you ; sleep away !
Holy Saints, the night is keen !
How the nipping wind does drive
Through yon tree-tops bare and lean,
Till their shadow seems alive,
Patters through the bars, and falls
Shivering on the floor and walls !
16. Holloa ! What causes the ex-
clamation ? Note the change of feel-
ing here and in 1. 19.
18. Come — go. Parse; complete
the ellipsis. (12, IV., 6.)
20. penance. Parse. Why "dou-
ble ' ' ? else. Turn into a subordinate
sentence.
27. What are now the monk's mood
and attitude ?
29. Nay. What change of position
now takes place ?
31-42. What is the monk's attitude
while speaking thus ? How does he
act in saying" Holy" — "keen," I.31 ?
Note the vividness of the description.
For meaning of 11. 32-38, cf. 11. 92-95.
34-35 seems alive, patters, falls
shivering. Show the expressiveness
of these predicates.
18. Pause after "come" and "pray;" contrast "pray" and " ;,o to
sleep," and not "come" and "go."
20. Pause after "penance" and "else."
24. Pause after " Broth'-''" What inflectioi i« there on this word ?
25-30. This stanza requires gentle force. (III., 2.)
31. Holy Saints. (III., 5.)
35-36. Connect clos' 'v "falls shivering."
K()lii:RTS.
35
How yon patch of freezing' sky
Echoes back their bell-rniginf,'s !
Down in the gray city, nigh
Severn, every steeple swings ;
All the Inisy streets are bright,—
Many folks are out to-night.
- What's that. Brother ? Did you speak ?
40
Christ save them that talk in sleep !
Smile they howsoever meek,
Somewhat in their hearts they keep.
We, good souls, what shifts we make
To keep talking while awake !
Christ be praised, that fetched me in
Early, yet a youngling, while
All unlearned in life and sin.
Love and travail, grief and guile i
For your world of two-score years,
Cuthbert, all you have is tears.
Dreaming, still he hears the bells
As he heard them years ago.
Ere he sought our quiet cells
Iron-mouthed, and wrenched with woe.
Out of what dread storms who knows—
Faithfulest of friends and foes.
Faithful was he aye, I ween,
Pitiful, and kind, and wise ;
45
SO
$i
60
37 patch. Why was it a patch ? | 43- What change in attitude and
^8. Scan and criticise the effect, feeling now takes place ?
47. We. Account for the repeti-
tion. (12, v., I, b.)
55. Dreaming. Parse.
(12, IV., 4.)
40. swings. Explain.
41. Note the transferred epithet.
(12, IV., 17.)
58. Iron-mouthed. Explain.
60. What poetical ornament ? (7.)
4}. Rpverenti.i! pure-tone.
53. Make "your world" emphatic.
54. Pause after "Cuthbert." " Tears," emphatic.
61. Lower the voice slightly in reading " I ween.
II
65
70
75
36 ADVANCED READER.
But in mindful moods I've seen
Flame enough in those sunk eyes :—
Praised be Christ, whose timely Hand
Plucked from out the fire this brand !
Now in dreams he's many miles
Hence ; he's back in Ireland.
Ah, how tenderly he smiles,
Stretching a caressing hand !
Backward now his memory glides
To old happy Christmas-tides :
Now once more a loving wife
Holds him ; now he sees his boys ;
Smiles at all their playful strife,
All their childish mirth and noise ;—
Softly now she strokes his hair—
Ah, their world is very fair !
Waking, all your loss shall be
Unforgotten evermore.
Sleep alone holds these for tliee ;
Sleep then, Brother. To restore
All your heaven that has died
Heaven and Hell may be too wide.
Sleep, and dream, and be awhile
Happy Cuthbert once again.
63. mindful moods. What was the , III i and 2.) How are they pro-
character of his thoughts? duced? ■ , ,.u^
; 7g. Waking. Parse; point out the
69-96. What emotional quality of .^^^^.^^^ ^^ ^j,^g ^^^.^i
style pervades this remarkably fine ^^ ^^^^^^^ _ ^.^^ p,^.
passage? {13, n.) [ ^^^.^ ^^j^ clearly.
71. now. Explain this use of the j g,^.. heaven — Heaven. Why
word. Observe that it is repeated. j^^^^ differently ? Give the mean-
le ? (13, I ing of the former.
80
85
78. What elegancies of styU
67-68. Connect close- "many miles hence." Make a long pause after
'hence."
69-70. Gentle pure-tone.
81. Pause after " Sleep" and 'alone; " both words are emphatic.
ROBERTS.
37
90
9S
Soon you'll wake, and cease to smile,
And your heart will sink with pain ;
You will hear the merry town.
And a weight will press you down.
Hungry-hearted, you will see
Only the thin shadows fall
From yon bleak-topped poplar-tree—
Icy fingers on the wall ;
You will watch them come and go,
TeUing o'er your count of woe.
Nay, now, hear me ! how I prate !
I, a foolish monk and old,
Maundering o'er a life and fate
To me unknown, by you untold :
Yet 1 know you're like to weep
Soon ; so. Brother, this night sleep.
THE MAPLE.
Oh, tenderly deepen the woodland glooms,
And merrily sway the beeches ;
Breathe delicately the willow blooms.
And the pines rehearse new speeches ;
The elms toss high till they brush the sky.
Pale catkins the yellow birch launches.
But the tree 1 love all the greenwood above.
Is the maple of sunny branches.
chosen epithets.
102. Soon-bleep. What does the
monk do after speaking thus .
Show the
..8. scan and name the metres. | ^^4.^pines - spe^-he.
Sh.-.v the appropriateness ot ya- .^^^^^ Rhymes.
rious epithets used throughout the 4 -^ ^^ Not^_^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^.^
poem. o. auuiijr-
I. tenderly. Explain. | epithet.
loi. Emphasis on the contrasted word, weep" a^^^^ "sleep."
" weep soon." 102. Pause after " soon " and night.
(III., 8. t.)
Connect
veep
G. catkins.
38
ADVANCED READER.
10
IS
Let who will sing of the hawthorn in spring,
Or the late-leaved linden in summer ;
There's a word may be for the locust tree,
That delicate, strange new-comer ;
But the maple it glows with the tint of the rose
When pale are the spring-time regions.
And its towers of flame from afar proclaim
The advance of Winter's legions.
And a greener shade there never was made
Than its summer canopy sifted ;
And many a day, as beneath it I lay,
Has my memory backward drifted
To a pleasant lane I may walk not again,
Leading over a fresh, green hill,
Where a maple stood just clear of the wood—
And oh, to be near it still !
lo What poetic ornament ?
13. maple. I'arse. Note in this
line a common emphatic redundan-
cy. (12, v., I, b.)
13-14. But— regions. Show that
this description is true to nature.
15-16. Mark the originality and
beauty of the Metaphor.
18 sifted. Show that this ex-
presses the appearance of the shade.
19-24. Observe the heightening of
I the poetic effect by the personal
i reference.
9. Patise after "will."
24. Change the tone of voice so as to express the mournfui longing.
1. Classify the preceding poems. (4, II.)
2. What passages in " Brother Cuthbert " illustrate the monk .<? supersti-
tion, tenderness, garrulity, pious gratitude, coiUeninient, simplicity, and
imagination ? Show the bearing of the answer to this question on the
detinititm of a Dramatic Lyric.
3. Show that the poem has been correctly named " Brother Cuthbert."
4. In "The Maple" show the author's admirable pcwers of description
and sympathy with nature,
5. What {jualities and elegancies of style pervade these poems ? (13, I.,
II. and III.) Characterize the author's vocabulary. (12, I., b.) Refer 10
e.xamples.
6. Memorize the poems.
Composition.
1. Sketch the monk's train of thought, bringing out the causes of the
transitions.
2. Sketch the character and history of Cuthbert as given by the monk.
GOLDWIN SMITH, M.A., D.C.L.
, roUKvin Smith was born at KeadinK. Berkshire. Eng-
'\'''"''r"\^hl^ Vue't 8 '. After attending a private academy at
land, on the 13th ot August, ''-^-i ^ ■ ^^^rch, Oxford.
Hath, he entered Eton ^f^f^':']^^^;^^^^^^ unusnally brilliant.
Both at school -'\;;^;^^;;r?,'^'r Honors in Cassias, he was ,
and on ^-^f;""^ j" ^'.^^jf ' i e time acted as tntor in University
eected to a f;^l;;-»;'P;;^"^'^i,,, ,, ,,,0 Bar of Lincol. s Inn, but never
CoUeRe. In 1847 he was can .m^^ral predilections began
p---^;;-«p-^'::p,jr;?i"h^ o u;;:::tLns to\he periodical ..i
to show themselves. '^^P^^ •^"> '" spending some time in London ,0
journalistic literature of the day Aut.r ^P«" J' ,f ^^, historical
I returned to Oxford, w.th \ -"-"^ ;^/ /^'^'l on the Political
research, and, it is saul, to the P'^^^P'^'^f '°" .^.^ „f ^ Koyal Commis-
History of England. The /-^PP^"^'"^'' ' ^ " , .'^ i.^nt- ecretaryship
sion to inquire into Univers.ty -^-j-^j^^: ^'J^'j^^,*:; f,, a time he' was .5
of which he accepted, interfered wUh th >j cl-.M a _ ^^^^ .^^^
,UU- occupied with the ^^^^ ^^'^^^ZlvV^^ oi a second Com-
valued by the Government that, on mt api
',11
1
40
ADVANCED READER.
mission, he became secretary, and by his ability and intimate acquaint-
ance with the subjects of investigation, contributed materially to the
ao reforms that resulted from its labors. The Report, in 1861, of the Popular
Education (?ommittee, of which he was an active member, also greatlv
influenced subsecjuent legislation. In 1S57 he was chosen to the Regius
Professorship of Modern History at the University of Oxford, which,
owing to his father's illness, he resigned after eight years' ten!ire of office,
25 During all this time he had become conspicuous amongst the writers on
the Liberal side of politics, and, as is to be expected in the case of a man
of strong opinions and uncompromising independence, had incurred the
ill-will of the leaders of the opposite party. On the breaking out of the
American War he sided with the North, rendering it good service by his
30 letters to the London Times and Daily Ni'7i's : and on his first visit to
America in 1S64, was received with general enthusiasm. In the Jamaica
controversy in 1865, he took an active part, siding with the accusers of
Governor Lyre, and contributing the proceeds of his lectures on "Three
English Statesmen" to the fund for the prosecution. In 18O8, having
is accepted the offer of the chair of English and Constitutional History in
Cornell University, Ithaca, N.Y., he left England to assume its duties ; and,
as the Professorship is a non-resident one, removed to Toronto, where he has
since resided. He has in various ways taken a lively interest in educa-
tional matters, and for a time was a member of the Senate of the Univer-
40 sity of Toronto, and the representative of the Public School Masters in the
late Council of Public Instruction. In Canada, as in England, Professor
Smith has been distinguished by activity in literary and political que.stions,
his opinions on the latter having provoked from those with whom he differs,
a good deal of hostile criticism, which, however, is only another tribute
45 to the importance of his utterances. On some subjects of national interest
he holds views that do not recommend themselves to most of the inhabi-
tants of the Dominion, but there are few who will deny the honesty of his
motives or the surpassing excellence of his style.
If 11
m ill
1
if:
I
III If
Works. — Lectures on the Study of History (r86i) : A volume containing
50 the four most remarkable of his Oxford Lectures. Here, amongst other
things, he ridicules the contention of Buckle and his followers, that History
may be reduced to an Exact Science. Irish History and Irish Chnractir
(1862) : An expansion of a lecture delivered before the Oxford Architec-
tural and Historical Society at their annual meeting in 1861. In this
55 sketch the author "pays more attention to general causes than previous
writers on Irish History; cultivates the charities of history; and, in the
case both of the rulers and of the people, takes fair account of misfortunes
as well as of crimes." The Empire ; a collection of letters published in the
Daily News (i86j) : This series treats chiefly of England's relations to her
60 colonies and dependencies — Canada, New Zealand, Gibraltar, and the
Ionian Islands coming in for a large share of attention. Three Eiij^Ush
Statesmen : A course of lectures on the Political History of England (1865),
the statesmen selected being Pym, Cromwell, and i'itt. The Political
'5'««»n^;
GOLinVIN SMITH.
41
r /' V. MS-7SV An essay in which ho maintains that "the
Canada, England, and the United States.
rHiT.CAL-Gokhvin Smiths intellect is keen, highly cultivated, and
C KiTicAL. <^xOKiM ^ ■ independent, outspokon-p<^ssd)ly
thoroughly equ.pped^nc^^^^^^^^ ^ .^^^^^^ ^,^ „,^,^_^j
too much -•-- ^J ""i^,*^ ;;,,d, ,he main source of both his weakness ,,
Td hilstrengh W In he writes, he has something to say, and he says
--: an e^n^tn^^and an energy - - ^^^ ^ ^^^
"" : '7of nmria il and ,hecUim«<.t hereditary rank. His works are
shall not willingly let d>e.
THE BATTLE OP LUTZEN.
Froiu "The Great Duel ol the Seventeenth Century."
Aff^r th,- Reformation Europe became - ,'h up into two
Introductory.— After th'. Keiormauu t ■ , ,.,,.iuuallv took
paries the Protestants and the IV^l"'-^"!^':;, ^'^ S I'ni heCalholic
Kiie shape in the formation "^' ^ ^h ty Velr^' War , - .S-.648) was
League. The immediate cause th- u ,v\ .ch ^hese confederacies took
the contest for the crovvn of l^"»^f X se hm ^ver the original cause was
opposite sides. Long before ^»^^f^'^,^^\; j^" 'i;euveen the Uaion and the
f.VrWten, and the war became trug^kb^^^^^^^
League, the central ponitciv Incl^^ as tic^^^^^^ ^^ Christian i>f
lenstein, the Imperial general, o ''^;^ ^""^^^f^^^^ but was
Denmark, the leader of the 1 "^"^ ^^ e r'dinind his place being taken by
afterwards dismissed I'y /^^'^J-^l^l'VV'^ ',^!'^^* ' J," ,\us Idolp^ of Sweden.
Tillv, the general of the C ^'h"!'^ ^^^''^J ^j^.^f Vh Lt^uestan! arnnes. After
•;r3i:a''vrJi:;r\t,Tl.r^'aL\,^^':";r,!;.'"c.rove ',,,,. ...e sa..,,s,
42
ADVANCED READER.
■II
111
'
•Hi
Gustavus's allies. Then uniting his forces with those of the Elector
Maximilian, he marched ajjainst Clustavus, who, thus checked in his
career, shut himself up in Nuremburg. Here both armies lay encamped
for eleven weeks, Ciustavus finally making an attack on Wallenstein. Being
signally worsted, he broke up, and advanced into Bavaria. Wallenstein,
however, marched on Saxony, joining there another Imperial army under
Pappenheim. At this junciure in the Great Duel, the following extract
opens.
To save Saxony, Gustavus left Bavaria half conquered. As
he hurried to the rescue, the people on his line of march knelt
to kiss the hem of his garment, the sheath of his delivering
sword, and could scarcely be prevented from adoring him as
5 a god. His reli-ious spirit was filled with a presentiment
that the idol in which they trusted would be soon laid low.
On the 14th of November he was leaving a strongly entrenched
camp, at Nuremberg, where, the Imperialists fancied, the sea-
son being so far advanced, he intended to remain, when news
10 reached his ear like the sight which struck Wellington's eye
as it ranged over Marmont's army on the morning of Sala-
manca. The impetuous Pappenheim, ever anxious for separ-
ate command, had persuaded an Imperial coimcil of war to
detach him with a large force against Halle. The rest of the
15 Imperialists, luider Wallenstein, were quartered in the villages
around Liitzen, close within the king's reach, and unaware of
his approach. " The Lord," cried Gustavus, " has delivered
him into my hand," and at once he swooped upon his prey.
" Break up and march with every man and gun. The
20 enemy is advancing hither. He is already at the pass by the
hollow road." So wrote Wallenstehi to Pappenheim. The
letter is still preserved, stained with Pappenheims life-blood.
But, in that mortal race, Pappenheim stood no chance. Halle
was a long day's march off, and the troopers, whom Pappen-
LiTER.\RV. — I. By what artifice ; 5. What caused this presenti-
does the author indicate Gustavus's ment ?
rapid movement ? (12, II., i, h.) | jg. why not "reached him?"
3. Note the omission of the con- | 18. swooped. Cf. with Dr. Grant's
junction, which adds to the nervous 1 use of the word, p. 26, 1. 77.
energv of the style, (12, IV., 11.)' ^g.^^ ^Vhat kind of sentence?
This figure is noticeable throughout How does this affect the style ? (13,
the selection.
4. scarcely.
"hardly."
Distinguish from
II.. I.)
21 22. The —life-blood.
graphic touch.
Note the
^^S*tH. fcK^nrw;
GOI.nWIN SMITH.
43
heim couUl lead Kalhmtly, but coukl not control afl.r takn.K n
rtown, ha.1 d,sperse.i to plunder. Ye. the Swede s «re
opportnn ty was lost. Lut.en, though n, s^-ht. prove, not
Tnl as flattering guides and eager eyes had u,.j,k t
The deep.banked Rippaeh, its bridge all too narrow fo he
multtus coUnnns, tte roads heavy fron, ran,. .Wav-' "i -
a ch. A skirmish with son.e lu.perial cavalry under ls<^a.u
va ted minutes when minutes were years ; and the short
N^lmber day was at an end when the Swede reached the
'''no°1 "advantage n,arks the spot where .he storm .
overLk the Dnke of Friedland. He was caught hke a
° aJeUer in a tempest on a shelterless plain, and had no.lnng
for i but to bide the brunt. What could be ,lone w h
d, cl es, two windn.ills. a u„ul wall, a su,all canal, he du
mov n- from point to point during the long n.ght ; and before „
mo™ug all his troops, except Pappenheuu's dms.on. had
rnmp in and were in line. ,
When the m,.rning broke a heavy fog lay on the ground.
Hhtcu-lans have no. Failed to remark that there ,s a syn.pathy
" ng and that the day was loath to dawn winch was < «
h. the h t day of Gustavns. Bu. if Nature syn,pa.lu«<l w tl,
Gus^ V she' chose a bad mode lor showing her syn^pathy
for wh e the fog prevented the Swedes from advanang, par
of pippenheim-s corps arrived, .\fter praye-vs, the kmg and
1 lus army sang Luther's hymn, "Our God >s a s rong 5»
le ■•-." Marse,lla,se of ,he milUan. KeformaUou. I hen
G^avus mounted h,s horse, and addressed the .hfferen
divisions adjuring then, by their victorious name, b> the
,~of the Breitenfeld, by the great cause whose issue
, mg upon their sworels, to fight well for that cause for he. .
country, and their God. His^hc.ar. was uplifted at Lu.zcn,
,„-,. The- m«ch. Shovr.ha.| 5.. Marseilles.. W..a.P»r. "t
,h. lords ,n th,. «.u™« are adimr- i speech J ^^^ ^e Jrliiion' fonu
.>bU adap.ed,a the sense. C^' '^ ■ ™«*^„™3rasl impl.ed m llie
4,|and(l3. HI, 2) (.nitlict
.;:;^1^s^::^;^?-'"°^Y^..3. Note he. .^^a^;.ho;u
44.47. Note that a word may be the -^act he empha uc rcpct.t.on
repeated for perspicuity or vividness. | of words, (12. l\ - ^o,)
44
ADVANCED READER.
,
li%^
■I
if '■
with that Hebrew fervor which uphfted the heart of Cromwell
at Dunbar. Old woinuls inaiie it irksome to iiim to wear a
cuirass. " God," he said, " shall be my armor this day."
60 Wallenstein has been much belied if he thought of anything
that morning more religious than the order of battle, which
has been preserved, drawn up by his own hand, and in which
his troo})S are seen stil formed in heavy masses, in contrast
to the lighter formation.-, of Gustavus. He was carried down
65 his lines in a litter, being crippled by gout, which the surgeons
of that day had tried to cure by cutting into the flesh. But
when the action began, he placed his mangled foot in a stir-
rup lined with silk, and mounted the small charger, the skin
of which is still shown in the deserted palace of his pride.
70 We may be sure that confidence sat undisturbed upon his
brow ; but in his heart he must have felt that, though he had
brave men around him, the Swedes, fighting for their cause
under their king, were more than men ; and that in the
balance of battle, then held out, his scale had kicked the
75 beam. There can hardly be a harder trial for human forti-
tude than to command in a great action on the weaker side.
Villeneuve was a brave man, tliough an unfortunate admiral ;
but he owned that his heart sank within him at Trafalgar
when he saw Nelson bearing down.
80 " God with us," was the Swedish battle-cry. On the other
side the words *' Jesu-Maria " passed round, as twenty-five
thousand of the most godless and lawless ruffians the world
ever saw, stood to the arms which they had imbrued in the
blood not of soldiers only, but of women and children of cap-
85 tured towns. Doubtless many a wild Walloon and savage
Show clearly
57. Hebrew fervor.
what is meant
50-59. Marseillaise, Cromwell,
Dunbar. Observe that the author
fires the imagination of his readers
by reference to suggestive historical
events. (13, II., i.)
61. order of battle
70. What figure ?
71. in his heart.
phrase placed thus ?
and (12, IV., 8 )
Explain.
(12, IV., 21.)
Why is this
(i^'ll. 2, «,)
74-75. his — beam. Explain the
Metaphor.
75-79- There — down. What is the
relation between these sentences ?
Note the graphic effect.
77. Villeneuve — admiral. Figure?
(12, IV., 8.) Note the balanced
structure. {12, II., i, c.)
85-86. Show that the epithets used
here are well selected. Why are the
parts of the subject of the sentence
thus arranged .'
ti:;
GOLDWIN SMITH.
45
95
c o Qivini'ircl atul cruel Italian, who hac\
Croat, many a fierce fP-^" "^^ ^J ,^ ,^ ,,,, i,,,e con.e to hue
butchered and tortured at ^ ^^^^^^^^^^ ,,,^ tin- battk-
,Uedust. T;.esemenwere^^h^^^^ ,^^^, .^^.^
acid, ion, ^^-^^^'^^^ZZ^^eu^^^^^y-^^^^'^^^^'^'' -
known what a day Nsas noxv nuc ^^^^^ ^^.^,^^^
HUe a recruit on the -T^^^j'^^^^.^c, before the
.fterwards broken or l-^ -;<^';; J^. ,,^„,, ,ia, like n.en of
lust and revel in every kunl °* "^';":"^; ^i; , ,Uots told that
M nine the ^^>;^b|;^" ^,^^:rea U ::;l;er^nd a red .lare
the armies were catchmg sij,nt «^ ^. ^^^ L^jt;,,.,!
broke the m.s.. ^v1,«e *e <n,^ .^ a.K^^^ ^^^^^^^^ ^^
to cover the.r nght. '\' "=" „, „„,, d .•,„««! ; an.l the tele- ,o.
,,ead of lus cavalry J^- '>- ^^ ^_,„„„, ,,„,,, (e„l,n« that
scope is the Renera s swor 1. ,.^^^ ^j ,|,g
.he gallant km,, who c^'^^- t^tZ^ home. 1. a nohler
s;r:h:rt\::^E!perorwh.^^^
vanity of a heart of clay. ^ j; ^^^ ^n,)
The Swedes, after ''><= """"^ ° .X,'," „ , the whole of
Uardy age, fell a. once w.th e r na n force^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^ ^
the Impertal ^'''^- J"^^^''-^,j, j^ok the enemy's guns. But
struggle, they gained S™"™ f '" , . , ,„„i, «.hile Gustavus
on the r>ght "he I."Pe- - «" f,;;^„,,, Wallenstein
was carrying v.ctory v ,th "m «° ^ ,^,^„,3 ,,„rried to
restored .1 ; day upon the r ,lu '^^ ^^^^ „,y, „,, .„
that part of the field. ^8?^'" " . J^,^, g„i for his victory.
:-. -™ii"™xrr s:d .... .» -«
loo .01. the telescope-sword B>
a pr.raplirase show how adm.rab'y
condensed is this sentence.
X0.I07 Yet -clay. Point out the
contrasted phrases m this sentence.
104-107. What is here referred to?
108-118. Note abrupt style. {12,
II., I, t) Why used here ?
114. right. Whose?
tma
msm
46
ADyANCEl) READER.
I
:(
IH
P
^IH
i V
it::
I20 next advancc'il, they found the stripped and nianj^led body of
their kiiifjf. Acxor(hnf< to the most credil)le witness, Onstavus,
who had f,'alloped forward to see how his advantaj^'e ini},dit be
best followed up, got too near the enemy, was shot first in the
arm, then in the back, and fell from his horse. A party of
las Imperial cuirassiers came up, and learniiif,' from the wounded
man himself who he was, finished the work of death. They
then stripped the body for proofs of their great enemy's fate
and relics of the mighty slain. Dark reports of treason were
spread abroad, and one of these reports followed tiie Duke of
130 Saxe-Lauenburg, who was with Gustavus that day, through
his questionable life to his unhappy end. In those times a
great man could scarcely die without suspicion of foul play,
and in all times men are unwilling to believe that a life on
which the destiny of a cause or a nation hangs can be swept
135 away by the blind indiscriminate hand of common tleath.
Gustavus dead, the first thought of his ofilicers was retreat ;
and that thought was his best eulogy. Their second thought
was revenge. Yet so great was the discouragement, that one
Swedish colonel refused to advance, and Bernard of Saxe-
Mo Weimar cut him down with his own hand. Again the strug-
gle began, and with all the morning's fury. Wallenstein had
used his respite well. He knew that his great antagonist was
dead, and that he was now the master spirit on the field.
And with friendly night near, and victory within his grasp, he
145 directed in person the most desperate combats, prodigal of
the life on which, according to his enemies, his treasonable
projects hung. Yet the day was again going against him, when
the remainder of Pappenheim's corps arrived, and the road
v/as once more opened to victory by a charge which cost
ISO Pappenheim his own life. At four o'clock the battle was at its
last gasp. The carnage had been fearful on both sides, and as
fearful was the exhaustion. For six hours almost every man
127-128. lixplain clearly "proofs"
and " relics." Note that both words
refer to the same objects.
131-135. Illustrate from history.
136. Note thechangeof stylewhich
follows, to harmonise with the sub- sentence,
ject. (12, II., I, b.)
Ex-
137. his best eulogy. Why ?
145-147 prodigal — hung.
plain.
151. last gasp. Show that the
Metaphor is carried on in the next
OOLDWIS SMITH.
47
. l,.„l l,nrnv tlic t.-rriWf fxriloin.-iil of moilal
i„ Loth armies ha.l l>onK ti c ..xeiun,.i,l
combat with p.ke a..>l «"°;^;, •",.':;' us h.uhos. pitch. ,„
!-• been stranH-, by «; «;; , .^ " :,,' c„,,f,,s.... ..«! .lu-
■''^'"r: y ^slamci only by that con„na,«bn«
'^■":".::; rrkn': ^ PO.; tbrheh., .he shatter., masses o,
lt^::,.^"o "'«-"' Posttton; but they ha. not «one
r "re" ti^ey feh .nto the -';-;«--;:'2: .i f "prea.U,,. it
•"''i'"''«'""'''ft:Xh"'w th si hi or hear,n« of
T^;. IToVnit" wl . hattottle was over, iit.t it is not ,„
the field ot Lut/Lii \\u^i x^rovidence does not visd>lv
ahoKether irrationa a,,, bhn.,. 1 -u^ ^,,^,, ^„,,„,, ,,;,
interpose m favor of the riK.t. i le -i.
-vT,t'^ltr';oT:t,r;:Vts;:^^^^^^^^^^^
a^'ainst it. l^ut tn^ f," o.^.-drs bv leliLnous enthusiasm, tlie .„
^"r';;",;«l'vrs"s;mgtt'vienna and Ma.hi.f, an.l with good .^
FoTviem a an.l Madrid the death of C.nstavns was
lir Orrn t"ory. For ran.ty, ,f the nUerests of
ifio-i6i. the-make. Forexplana- |
tion, cf. 11. i74-i7'J-
165. Slowly and sullenly. Note
the eltect of the repetition. U- - No
for a more marked effec 1. i68. (12,
IIl.,7)aml(i2, IV., 22.)
166. guns of position. Explain.
,70-171. But-blind. Illustrate.
172-173 The stars-cause. Ex-
plain the Allusion. (12, 1\., 14)
173.174. At Lutzen -it. Ilxplain.
171 ster. Distinguish from " stars"
i„'(.^,'7. ,,., IV.. 2.) But-star.
How shown in this case ^
! 180-igo. Note here again the fre-
i quent Epizenxis. (12. IV, 20.)
i 181-1S2 For Vienna — victory.
1 Why ?
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48
ADVANCED READER.
humanity were not those of Vienna and Madrid, it was worse
than any defeat. But for Gustavus himself, was it good to
'85 die glorious and stainless, but before his hour ? Triumph
and empire, it is said, might have corrupted the soul which
up to that time had been so pure and true. It was, perhaps,
well for him that he was saved from temptation. A deeper
morality replies, that what was bad for Gustavus' cause and
'90 for his kind, could not be good for Gustavus ; and that
whether he were to stand or fall in the hour of temptation,
he had better have lived his time and done his work. We,
with our small philosophy, can make allowance for the greater
dangers of the higher sphere ; and shall we arrogate to our-
•95 selves a larger judgment and ampler sympathies than we
allow to God ? Yet Gustavus was happy. Among soldiers
and statesmen, if there is a greater, there is hardly a purer
name. He had won i.ot only honor, but love, and the friend
and comrade was as much bewailed as the deliverer and the
200 king. In him his Sweden appeared for the first and last time
with true glory on the scene of universal history. In him the
spirit of the famous house of Vasa rose to the first heroic
height. It was soon to mount to madness in Christina and
Charles XII.
188-18Q. deeper morality. Ex-! 200-201. Note the emphatic repeti-
plain fully. Note the criticism of tion of "in him." (12, IV., 23.)
Tr,A u^^^.. \\7u .. ■ .L-. 202. first. Explain.
196. nappy. What is meant? ' ^
life.
199 was— bewailed. Criticise the
form. Why is " the" inserted before
"king" and omitted before "com-
rade ' ' ?
What is meant by "The Great
Duel " of the Seventeenth Century ?
?if
it
GOLDWIN SMITH.
49
CHARACTER OF CROMWELL
iMoni "Thiue Knulish statesmen,"
are still open , ana u y mention of
hour, and whose ho.r pe, >aps -^ ""-=--■ ^X., , „„„ „
take for Rrante.l the «oo,lness of h.s cai.se,
„,,ether he sefved it '-''''f^V ^^'l -'^; ,^„ ,„„„„r
Of his Lfenins there is little quesuun.
11 fl..> ohst-icles of fu vv and ot class. U w as lon^
;::i::;;^:^:,co,,.for.veo..wh.s.™ea.^^^
foot on law; hut there "■"•''■, '^P^-;,,^,, ,,,, aid not feel
xt,:it;r::^ron.t^i^:::^on.nan,. .e...
, ^ . ,,c thp thou'^ht returns, not that we ma\
L1TERARY.-5. divine order. Ex-
plain the Allusion, (i-i, l\ ■. 1 4-)
6-8. Expand the Metaphor.
15-17. Necessity-brow. E-xpress
this without using a figure ol speech
lo-n Yet— class. What charac-
teristic of the author is here dis-
played ?
21-30. It was — arms. Discuss
these statements.
. ^. ' , A _i„„ /III 8. (T and /j).
0, «
t, and.:), also (I!
50
ADVANCED READER.
I :
ir^i
In
40
race which produced Cromwell may, at its need, produce his
peer, and that the spirit of the Great Usurper may once more
30 stand forth in arms.
Of Cromwell's honesty there is more doubt. And who can
hope, in so complex a character, to distinguish accurately the
impulses of ambition from those of devotion to a cause ?
Who can hope, across two centuries, to pierce the secret of
35 so deep a heart ? We must not trust the envious suggestions
of such observers as Ludlow or even Whitelocke. Suspicions
of selfish ambition attend every rise, however honest, however
inevitable, from obscurity to power. Through " a cloud not
of war only, but detraction rude," the " chief of men " had
" ploughed his glorious way to peace and truth ! " These wit-
nesses against him are not agreed among themselves. Ludlow
is sure that Cromwell played the part of an arch-hypocrite in
pressing Fairfax to command the army in Scotland ; but Mrs.
Hutchinson is sure that though he was an arch-hypocrite on
45 other occasions, on ^his he was sincere. After the death of
the king, after the quest of Ireland, when the summit of
his ambition was lUa in his view, he married his eldest son
Richard to the daughter of a private gentleman, bargaining
anxiously, though not covetously, about the settlement ; and
50 caring, it seems, for nothing so much as that the family with
which the connection was formed should be religious. Can
Richard have been then, in his father's mind, heir to a crown ?
Cromwell was a fanatic, and all fanatics are morally the
worse for their fanaticism ; they set dogma above virtue, they
55 take their own ends for God's ends, and their own enemies
for His. But that this man's religion was sincere, who can
doubt? It not only fills his most private letters, as well as
his speeches and despatches, but it is the only clue to his life.
For it, when past forty, happy in his family, well to do in the
60 world, he turned out with his children and exposed his hfe to
sword and bullet in obscure skirmishes as well as in glorious
fields. On his death-bed his thoughts wandered, not Hke
those of Napoleon among the eddies of battle, or in the mazes
31. Of— doubt, (12, III., 3 ) Cf.
1. 12, and note the structure through-
out.
37-38. It— life. Why does this
sentence not begin "Not only does
it fill," etc.?
GOLDWIN SMITH.
51
70
75
of Statecraft, but among the religious questions of his youth.
Constant hypocrisy would have been fatal to h.s decsmn. 65
The double-minded man is unstable ni all his ways. 1 ms
man was not unstable in any of his ways : his course is as
straight as that of a great force of nature. There is some-
thing not only more than animal, but more than natural m his
courage. If fanatics so often beat men of the world in coun-
cil it is partly because they throw the die of earthly destiny
with as steady a hand as those whose great treasure is not
'^Walking amidst such perils, not of sword and bullet only,
but of envious factions and intriguing enemies on every side,
it was impossible that Cromwell should not contract a wan-
ness and perhaps more than a wariness, of step. t was
impossible that his character should not, in some degree,
reflect the darkness of his time. In establishing his govern-
ment he had to feel his way, to sound men's dispositions, 80
to conciliate different interests ; and these are processes not
favorable to simplicity of mind, still less favorable to the
appearance of it, yet compatible with general honesty of pur-
pose As to what is called his hypocritical use of Scriptural
I'lncruage, Scriptural language was his native tongue, in it
he spoke to his wife and children, as well as to his armies and
his Parliaments ; it burst from his Ups when he saw victory
at Dunbar; it hovered on them in death, when policy, and
almost consciousness, was gone.
He said that he would gladly have gone back to private 90
life It is incredible that he should have formed the design,
perhaps not incredible that he should have felt the desire.
Nature, no doubt, with high powers g ■ cs the wish to use
85
67-C)8. his— nature. Illustrate this
statement from his history.
70-73. What two classes of enthu-
siasts are here contrasted ?
71. partly. Assign other reasons. ;
74-75. Illustrate from his history, j
74-89. With what charge against ;
rromweU'R ch.aracter does the writer ;
deal in this paragraph ? i
76. impossible. How is this em-
phasized ? Observe the structure of
the next sentence.
84-85. Note figure. (12, IV., 22,)
85-89. Note Anaphora. (12, IV,,
23)
89. was gone. Account for the
number of the verb.
91-92. It— desire. Note the pointed
style. (12, III., 2) and (12, II., i, c.)
Ili
.1,1
:!
in
II
ifl
w..
52
ADVANCED READER.
them ; and it must be bitter for one who knows that he can
95 do great things to pass away before great things have been
done. But wl:en great things have been done for a great end,
on an illustrious scene, the victor of Naseby, Dunbar, and
Worcester, the saviour of a nation's cause, may be ready to
welcome the evening hour of memory and repose, especially
100 if, like Cromwell, he has a heart full of affection and a happy
home.
Of the religion of hero-worship I am no devotee. Great
men are most precious gifts of Heaven, and unhappy is the
nation which cannot produce them at its need. But their
los importance in history becomes less as civilization goes on. A
Timour or an Attila towers unapproachably above his horde ;
but in the last great struggle which the world has seen the
Cromwell was not a hero, but an intelligent and united nation.
And to whatever age they may belong, the greatest, the most
1.0 god-like of men, are men, not gods. They are the offspring,
though the highest offspring, of their age. They would be
nothing without their fellow-men. Did Cromwell escape the
intoxication of power which has turned the brain of other
favorites of fortune, and bear himself always as one who held
115 the government as a trust from God ? It was because he was
one of a religious people. Did he, amidst the temptations of
arbitrary rule, preserve his reverence for law, and his desire to
reign under it ? It was because he was one of a law-loving
people. Did he, in spite of fearful provocation, show on the
120 whole remarkable humanity ? It was because he was one of
a brave and humane people. A somewhat large share of the
common qualities— this, and this alone, it was which, circum-
97-98. the victor— cause. Para-
phrase. What figure? (12, IV., 19.)
100. Why not thus:— "A happy
home and a heart full of affection ' ' ?
(12, II., 2, a.)
107. the last great struggle. What
great struggle ? When was this lec-
ture delivered ? Illustrate from more
recent events the statement in the
text.
108. Cromwell. Is this a proper
or a common noun ? (12, IV., 19.)
no. men, not gods. What proof
of this statement does the author
offer ?
110-121. Discuss the thoughts
expressed in this passage in connec-
tion with those in " The Gieat Duel,"
p. 48, 11. 184-196.
112-121. Did— people. Re-write
this without the Erotesis, and thus
show the effect of the figure.
GOLDWIN SMITH.
53
stances calling him to a high trust, had raised Inni above his
fellows. The impulse which lent vigor and splendor to his
crovernment came from a great movement, not from a smgle ,,5
man The Protectorate, with all its glories, was not the con-
ception of a lowly intellect, but the revolutionary energy ot a
mighty nation concentrated in a single chief.
124-126. Show from English his-
tory that this is true.
126-128 The Protectorate— chief.
What proofs of this statement does
the author offer ?
I. Classify the preceding extracts.
. Discuss the merits of Prof. Smiths style under the follmvmg heads
re err^go marS Samples, and pointing out in detail the means b>
;:S h'e has secured its various ^1- -es^-L Voca^^^^^^^^ ^ (x2. I.) II.
VI Elegancies of style. {13, III.)
3 Refer to passages in which Prof. Smith shows himself to be a cntic
of life."
Composition.
I Reproduce the substance of " The Great D-L. "-J-.J,^ 'f^^^l
heads :il. The movements ^^^^^-^-^ r^'^en td'n'b^fo^^^^^
morning of the battle. III. Gustavas ana y^"'="^'^ . ^ f ^^e
Tv The Swedes and the Imperialists ^o^'-^^^.^^' J^; JJ,^ ^L^^.en Vm.
battle VI ThedeathofGustavus. \ II The sequel at Lutzen.
h"w we should regard his death. IX. His character.
n. Reproduce, under the ^o.^^^,^^^^ -Umate^^:
Cromwell and the arguments by which he e^^-bh ^es^U^^.^.^^ ^ ^^^
cause. IL His geni"^„/Il;.f™jSi,.e importance of great men at
Se\f peS'ShiItorr%TeW^^^^^ the revolutionary
energy of the nation concentrated in Cromwell.
:■ !
I
54 ADVANCED READER
JOHN READE.
Biographical. — John Reade was born at Ballyshannon, in the county
of Donegal, Ireland, and, after a brilliant course of study, came to Canada
in 1856. Soon after his arrival, aided by some friends, he began, when
only eighteen years of age, the publication of the Montreal Literary Maga
s zinc, which, however, met with the fate that has overtaken many similar
ventures in Canada. Mr. Reade then became a contributor to various
periodicals, and has been for many years one of the editors of the Montreal
Gazette, with especial charge of the literary department. This position he
still holds.
,0 Works. — The Prophecy of Merlin, and other Poems (1870): A volume
consisting mainly of selections from what Mr. Reade had written up to the
date of its publication. The leading poem. The Prophecy of Merlin, though
modelled on Tennyson's Idylls, is more than a mere imitation, and there is
ample evidence in the rest of the work that the author is capable of select-
is ing a subject, and of treating it effectively. Vashti, Jubal, Balaam, In
Memoriam — T. D. McGee, and Dominion Day, alone afford sufficient proof
of his originality. Mr. Reade has also written tales, critical articles, and
fugitive poetry for the numerous literary periodicals that have appeared in
Canada from time to time.
20 Critical. — Owing, no doubt, in part to his classical training and scho-
larly tastes, Mr. Reade's language is chaste and expressive, and free from
extravagant conceits and fantastic tricks with words. This characteristic
the late William Cullen Bryant brought out in a criticism on The Prophecy
of Merlin, and other Poems, addressed to the author: — "It is no small
25 merit in my eyes that you have avoided that misty phraseology in which
many poets are accustomed to wrap up their reflections and that you
clothe yours in transparent and luminous diction." Mr. Reade's compo-
sitions unite, in many instances, much power with pleasing sweetness, and
show delicate feeling and a subdued refinement of thought and expression.
30 Dominion Day is notably a fine outburst of patriotic song. His translations
from the Ancient Classics and the French of Beranger and Lamartine are
admirably done, many of them reproducing most faithfully the spirit of
the originals with an artistic finish that is highly creditable to Canadian
scholarship.
MADELEINE DE VERCHERES.
Introductory. — During the war between the English and the French
colonists in America, towards the close of the seventeenth century, the
Iroquois allied themselves with the former to avenge the injuries inflicted
on thuiii by Deiiunville ; and so persevering were they in their schemes,
that the country about Montreal, being easily accessible to the Indians,
was never free from their prowling bands. On the 22nd of October, 1692,
READE.
55
- Oh ! my country, bowed in anguish 'neath a weiglit of bitter
woe, . r ,
Who shall save thee from the vengeance of a desolating toe .
They have sworn a heathen oath that every Christian soul
must die — ...
God of Heaven, in nlercy shield us ! Father, hear thy chil-
dren's cry."
Thus prayed Madeleine, the daughter of an old, heroine line- 5
Grecian poet, had he seen her, would have deemed her race
divine ; r 1 u • v.^. 4.
But as the golden sun transcends the beauty of the brightest
star, . , ,
Than all the charms ul face or form, her maiden heart was
lovelier far.
We can see her now in fancy, through the dim years gazing
To those stormy days of old, the days of valiant Frontenac, „
When the thinly-settled land was sadly vvasted lar and near,
And before the savage foe the people fled like stricken deer.
LiTERARY.-Name the metre and : y as-star. Explain this figure?
scan 11. 1-4. I 8. Note the order of the words.
1-4 When was this prayer uttered? | {12, IV., 9.)
Cf. 1. 28. I 9- gazing. Parse.
6. Why "Grecian"?
Elocutionary.-i. Begin "Oh! my country," etc., mournfu lly bu
with a voke expressing deep emotion. Medium stress required. (III. 5)
4. Change the voice to express passionate entreaty and prayer.
5. Change the voice to narrative pure tone.
9. Pause after " years."
I I
■ir-
56
ADVANCED READER.
'Tis the season when the forest wears its many-colored dress,
And a strange foreboding whisper answers back the wind's
caress,
15 As tlie swaying pines repeat the murmurs of the distant waves.
While the children of the Summer flutter softly to their graves.
But — was that another whisper, warning Iut of ill to come,
As she stands beside the river, near her father's fortress-home?
Hark ! the sound of stealthy footsteps creeps upon the throb-
bing ear —
20 Maiden, fly ! the foe approaches, and no hum:..i aid is near.
Surely He who decked with beauty this fair earth jn which
we dwell,
Never meant that men should change it by their madness into
hell :
He who gave the trees their glory, gave the birds their gift of
song,
Cannot smile from out yon heavens at the sight of human
wrong.
25 But those savage hearts no beauty wins to thoughts of tender
ruth-
Mother fond, or gentle maid, or smiling innocence of youth.
See ! with fierce exulting yells the flying maiden they pursue—
Hear her prayer, O God, and save her from that wild, vin-
dictive crew.
16. children — Summer. What ?
13-16. Re-write this stanza with-
out using figurative language.
17. Why is "her" italicised?
19. Note the Imitative Harmony.
(12. IV., 4.)
20. Maiden— near. Who utters
these words ?
23. He. Parse.
26. Mother. Parse.
14. Prolong the sound of " foreboding ; " " whisper," pronounce softly.
15-16. Use pure tone, with soft force. (III., 2.)
17. was that another, etc. Aspirated whisper, fast time, expressing
fear. (III., 1, a.)
20. Maiden, fly! Loud tone. 23. Rising inflection on " song."
2y. See I— pursue. Faster time, loud force, and in a tone expressing
mtense excitement.
28. Change to the tone of passionate entreaty.
'.MdHMMi^aMi
READE.
57
won; . K,,ii-,tc ,rr-»/e her floating hair —
Fifty foes are on her ^^^^^^^'^^^^^ ^bove has heard
But worse tlian vain is all their ra^t,
her prayer.
Madeleine has reached the For. • .he ga.e. are closea a,a,n,.
U„. '::J°:'.error-..ricke„ .hron« sends „„ .o Heaven a wai.
FeeWe mTand fain.,n« women. wUhou. hear., or hope, or „
T„e,fu ws .ha. God gave courage to a maid .o act the „,an.
nJ^Z days to come ^j-J^t.^.C.::! =>■ .
lie it said a Christian maiden by a heathen
., He is but a craven wretch would bid me yield n> such an
Neve'r°;ermy country's sons in perTs face were known to
No, mrPople ! God is with „s ; '.is our homes .hat we
Le. thts"atge do his worst, we will oppose him to the end.
.. women. I am httt a girl, btt. heroes blood is in n,y_^velns, ^ .s
And I will shed it drop by d"P. ^^ °« I J^^ ^ ^^^ ,„ „,, „,„d.
Let them .ear me hmb ^om ""b or s.rew my a ^^_^^^
Ere 1 disgrace .he name 1 bear, or leave a
behmd. IH, „„„„., whv not "shall
.0-30, Ne«r. Note the repetU I ^^4J-U oppose. Why
"°; woU th^'taln. .-.P.a-.. i . «• Criticise .he la.n.uaga ot .hi,
34-36. What poetic ornamenUjTOin^^
.0-31 Fast time, (HI.. 4I ^T^^^^^e time.
38-56. Orotund, high pitch, loud force.
46, Pronounce "drop by drop "slowly.
}l
it
li
m
11
58
ADVANCED READER.
•• Brothers mine, thou^^h young in years, yea are old enough
to know °
5" That^to shed your blood is noble, fighting with your country's
Be the ler-son unforgotten that our noble father gave
W hether glory be its guerdon, or it win us but a grave.
-Come, my people, take your places, every one as duty calls.
Death to every foe who ventures to approach these fortress
walls !
55 Let no point be unprotected, leave the rest to God on hi-h
Then we shall have done our dutv, even if we have to die."'
Thus she raised their drooping courage, matchless maiden.
Madeleme,
And the cry "To arms" re-echoed, till the roof-tree rang
agam, °
Cannons thundered, muskets rattled, and the clank of steel
was heard,
60 Till the baffled foe retreated, like a wolf untimely scared.
^'"^TrelT ^""^ '^^^" "'^^^'' '^'^"^ ^^e^Pless eye and bated
They held the Fort against the foe that lurked around them
plottmg death !
At last a joyous challenge came, it was the brave La Monnerie
And up to heaven arose a shout, •' The foe has fled, and we
are free !
50. fighting. Parse. 59-6o. Criticise the rhyme.
57-00. Note the Imitative Har- j
mony.
57- Change to the pure tone of narrative.
58. To arms. Very loud and full toned.
IN:
KEADE
59
AOUICOLA
If for the righteous <lea.i :> vest renw.ns.
f °s the w.se have th.-UKht, Ktea. souls survive
Tk Locmy frame, such vest. C, 'nem . he >une .
A,Kl us, Ihy househoUl >— "«/° J f^ f,^'
l.-rnn, weak reeret and womanish tears rtca i
TO . o i^is of that which eyeu love's own law
Korbids'us to deplore-th; ''-^•^^1^^.^^,
Of virtue, in our lives, not words, best praised.
Betousanensan,rle-thus,i..sooth,
w! yield thee real honor NVc . -o o^^
Thv presence, making ours thy deeas an
Ma'y have thee still h. --^^-"-rSue
Even thy soul's true self. Marble or bronze,
Or"aa^as may preserve the cherished ace
(And w'-ll it is to have it thus preserved),
Us likeness is transmitted. O, our fnend,
lO
t5
30
LiTERARV.-Name the metre, and
scan 11. 3. i3. and 17.
5, recall. Parse.
6 love's own lav,. Why should
this forbid them ?
7. deathless life. What is pecu-
liar in this expression? (12, iv.,
8) Parse "life."
7-8. thy-praised. Note the beauty
of the thought.
0. ensample. Why is the use of
in
relation of its different parts.
I 12 May-memory. Explam. Cf.
also 11. 7, 8. and 19-23-
' IV20. Marble-transmitted.
Point out the contrast. :.how that
To bring this out, the order of the
thoughts in one sentence is mverted
in the other.
K.oc„™...v.-,. Hea. »i.h ^^T^^^]!!:::-::: "-"
II. 1 ause att-r ,, „ j^^t outward form.
16. Retmn to the puch of face on „ , (. ^ )
18-19 What inflection on " marble, thoughts ^
6o
25
ADVANCED READER.
Whatever in thee we admired or loved
Remains and will remain in good men's minds
For ever and for ever.
And, although
Good men have lived and labored, and their names
Have been forgotten, like the inglorious herd,
'Twill not be so with thee, Agricola.
Thy name and fame shall live from age to age
In this, love's record of thy noble deeds.
27. Agricola. Note that there is j tion of Tacitus for his friend cul-
here a reason for the use of this word, | minates in the mention of the name
and that the expression of the affec j ,g. i^^^,^ ^^^^^^ ^j^^ .. j^^^,^ „ ,
1. Classify these poems. (4, I. and II.)
2. What elegancies of style pervade the compositions ? li^ III ) Give
examples. \ j' ■/ ^
3. Show by examples that Mr. Reade's style is noticeable for clearness
and chasteness of language. (13, I., i and 2.)
liv'^' 5^^^^' lessons may we learn from " Agricola " for the guidance of our
5. Memorize "Agricola."
Composition.
1. Write the story of " Madeleine " as told by Mr. Reade.
2. Paraphrase "Agricola."
THE HON. THOS. D'ARCY McGEE, B.C.L., M.R.I.A.
of Canadian Parliarnentary o-to- -. bo on the 3^^ ^^ ^P.^.^^ . ^ ^^^
Carlingford, Ireland, where ^ ^athe^' J^^ ^^^^^^^^^ ^^. ^^.^ ,^^^^j^^..
Coast Guard servnce. «-f>°^^,^f,' he "promotion to Wexford in 1833, s
in reading and vvntnig, and on ^^ ^^ he': ' P ^^^,^^1 education he ever
attended a day-school, obtarn.ng ^^^ the o"^^>^^^^^^ ^^,,^„,, ,, „,,,Wed
received. Even as a youth he sho^e ^^^^ ^^^ ^.^^^^^^^^ ^^
ability, being especia Uy fond of poetry and J ^^^ any love for
Ireland. From family causes neither -^^ J ^^^^^ ,,hich long ,0
English rule, and the son g-- J -^/ '^^^ ^^ ,,,,,ally ambitious, and
exercised an evil mfluence on his hte. i3e g ^^ ^^^ United
seeing no opportunity for distinction -^ ^^ne, ^^\^. J employment on the
States when seventeen years of ag ^ He he ob^^^ ^^^_J^ .^ ^^.^^
staff of the Boston P<lot, and ^^'^'Jj ^^^. ^-^ f, eloquence made .5
delivered also lectures 0"-"°-^ "^P ^;^, "^ onnection'with the question
his mark as a public -P^;'^''\^^''''^f^^^^^^ i„ Ireland and America. In
of Repeal, which was then being discussed wi ^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^_
X845 some newspaper articles and Poe^s of h ha i g ^^^ ^^^ ^^^.^^^.^^
tio'n of Daniel O'Connell, ^^^^^^^L onil ^^Lptance of which he .0
staff of the Fnauans Journal, Dublin^ - Unaginative temperament
returned to his native country. His ardent an
If
PI
62
ADVANCED READER.
soon led him to disapprove of the moderate course prescribed by O'Connell
as the proper one to secure the redress of Ireland's wrongs. Having, there-
fore, severed his connection with the yournal, he joined Charles Gavin
25 Duffy on the Dublin Nation, and allied himself with the more advanced
of the agitators, then known by the name of the "Young Ireland Party."
This party, though small at first, in course of time developed into "The
Irish Confederation," McGee being secretary of one of its divisions, and a
leading promoter of its objects. After the failure of the movement, he made
30 his escape to America, where he resumed his old occupation of lecturer,
and edited two papers in succession — The New York Nation and The
Amrrican Celt. Becoming tired of Republican institutions, and having, on
reflection, changed his political views, he accepted the invitation of his
Canadian friends to remove to Montreal. Hither he came in 1857, and in
35 the same year began the publication of the Neii> Era newspaper, in which
from the first he advocated the union of the British North American
Provinces. At the next general election he was returned to the Canadian
Parliament as one of the three members for Montreal. He then dis-
continued the publication of his paper, and devoted himself to politics.
40 From May, 1862, to May, 1863, he held office as President of the Executive
Council, and on the formation of the Tache-Macdonald Government in
March, 1864, became Minister of Agriculture — a position which he held
until the Union of the Provinces in 1867. While in England in 1865, as a
member of the Executive Council to confer with the Imperial Government
45 on the question of Confederation, he paid a visit to Wexford, and there
delivered an eloquent address on the condition of the Irish race in America.
On this occasion he publicly deplored the course he had adopted in 1848 ;
pointed out how much more advantageous was the position of Irishmen in
Canada than that held by their countrymen in the United States; and
50 declared that, in his opinion, any insurrectionary efforts to redress their
grievances would be destructive of the best interests of the human family,
These statements gave great offence to the Irishmen of the United States,
who now regarded him as a traitor to their cause, an opinion which was
strengthened by his uncompromising, opposition to Fenianism in 1866. At
55 the general election of 1867 he secured his old seat, but only after a severe
struggle, which showed him how much influence he had lost and how
much he had to fear from those whose enmity he had provoked. His
forebodings were justified by the event ; for he was assassinated by a
Fenian on the evening of the 6th of April, 1868, when returning from the
t'o House of Commons at Ottawa, after the delivery of a masterly speech on
the Confederation of the Provinces.
Works. — O'Connell and His Friends (1844)— Boston. Lives of the Irish
Writers of the Seventeenth Century (1847). Life of Art. McMurrough (1848) :
A memoir of a half- forgotten Irish king of the fourteenth century, contri-
65 buted to the "Library of Ireland," a series of stirring volumes for the
people published by the " Young Ireland Party." Memoir of Duffy (1849)
— Dublin. History of the Irish Settlers in America (1851) ; History of the
McGEE.
63
.. J., i^ r.tnhlUh the Protestant Reformation in Ireland (1853) ; Catholic
; Ige or brilliant i.. s.yle as some ot his oratorical effort. ""^C." ' »-'
l„'cc..fc.tcra,l.„ (.864) . Three letters .0 the «<>^_XeJ»tJu,
,„<//„ /?cy.»fc//c«" Nor//, .4,»m.« (ib66) . ^ 1^";!;° J^^^^^^^^ ^^,,i,., that
S-iatt^o::^^:::^ r.Sr:,sr ',l'f .'.t . the prece..
N,-../«/.o». T/,. Future of Canada, The Land u. Uve n, 1 he Character of
Champlain, The Morality of Shakespeare's Plays, etc.. etc.
Critical -The versatility of McGee's genius is no less striking than the ,05
p^e^^c-r vigor and .atun^y of his n.ind. He .as a Popu - le^re. an
editor of acknowledged abilUy. a graceful essa>.st^ ^^'^^T Love for
note, a brilliant parliamentary orator a P- ;;7/^;^; f^vhich he was
country was his ruling passion ; but the .^^^^^^ '"^^^^^^^^^ ..^rped his ,.0
subjected, acting on an imaginative and ^"^P/^^^^^^f '^^^^^^^^'d' ,„y^uy to
misguided attachment tu hia natue lanu, wu
M
64
ADVANCED READER.
wreck of his youth. Amid the cares of parliamentary and other duties,
115 McGee laboured with some success to found a British- American literature,
and might himself have made his mark as a writer; what he has done,
however, only shows what might have been. Although he did not possess a
collegiate education, his prose is in good literary form, and full of the
charms that distinguish his oratory ; while his ballads have thrilled the
120 hearts of thousands. "They are intensely, thoroughly Irish, in the sense
of genius, of national idiosyncrasy — Irish in thought, in feeling, in expres-
sion." Pyrin's green isle and "the oppressors' wrongs" are the favorite
themes of his pen ; but of all he has written, the historical and religious
poems are his best. To Canadians, however, he is best known as an orator
125 and statesman. As an orator he stood in the first rank, whether we regard
command of language, wide range of illustration, graceful delivery, or
force and vigor of expression. The beginning of his parliamentary career,
it is true, did not hold out hopes of the qualities which he afterwards
showed himself to possess. At first his native wit was too often displayed,
130 his satire and irony were too severe, and he seemed to seize every oppor-
tunity of scorching an opponent. Fresh from the turbulent sea of Repub-
lican politics, he did not realize the importance of his position ; but as he
gained e.xperience, he developed many of the practical qualities of a states-
man, and his untimely death may well be regarded as a loss to all classes
'35 of Canadians.
THE UNION OF THE PROVINCES.
Intkoductokv. — After the Quebec Conference and before the submission
of the Confederation Scheme to the Parliament at Ottawa, members of
the Government, including Mr. McGee, explained its main provisions at a
series of public meetings in different parts of the Provinces. The following
speech was delivered at Cookshire, county of Compton, December 22nd,
1864.
Mr. Ch.xirman and Gentlemen : Under the mild sway of a
Sovereign, whose reign is coincident with responsible govern-
ment in these colonies — a Sovereign whose personal virtues
have rendered monarchical principles respectable even to
those who prefer abstractly the republican system — with peace
and prosperity at present within our own borders — we are
Literary. — Give an account of
the events that led to Confederation.
(See Primer of Canadian History,
pp. 90-93.)
1-8. Classify this sentence.
1-42. This constitutes the Exor-
dium.
2-3. whose — colonies. Explain
what is meant by "responsible gov-
ernment."
Elocutionary. — This speech must be read with pure quality, swelling
into orotund for the expression of the nobler thought?. The prevailing
force is loud (III., 2) ; the pitch, middle (III., 5) ; and the time, moderate.
McGEE.
65
called on to consider what further constitutional safe^'nards
we need to carry us on for the future in the same path of
peaceable progression. And never, surely, gentlemen, did the
wide field of American public life present so busy and so 10
instructive a prospect to the thoughtful observer as m this
same good year of grace, 1.S64. Overlooking all minor details
wliat do we find the one prevailing and all but universal
characteristic of American politics in these days? Is it not
that "Union" is at this moment tinoughout the entire New .5
World the mot d'ordrc of States and statesmen ? If we look
to the far south, we perceive a congress of Central American
States endeavoring to recover their lost unity ; if we draw
down to Mexico, we perceive lier new Emperor endeavoring
to establish his throne upon the basis of Union; if we come =0
farther north, we find eleven States battling for a new Union,
and twenty-five on the other side battling to restore the old
Union. in..
The New World has evidently had new lights, and all its
States and statesmen have at last discovered that liberty with- -5
out unity is like rain in the desert, or rain upon granite— it pro-
duces nothing, it sustains nothing, it profiteth nothing. From
the bitter experience of the past, the Confederate States have
seen the wisdom, among other things, of giving their ministers
seats in Congress, and extending the tenure of executive oftice 30
fifty per cent, beyond the old United States period ; from
bitter experience, also, the most enlightened, and what we
may consider the most patriotic, among the Mexicans, desiring
to establish the inviolability of their executive as the founda-
tion of all stable government, have not hesitated to import, 35
not "a little British Prince," butjm Austrian Archduke, a
12-16 Note the interrogato7yform7r"^ What is the irregularuyi^^
xvhich excites the attention more than line ? Account for it. Note also (12.
a mere statement. (12, IV., 18 & 29.) IV., 23 and 25.) _
27-38. From— constitution. Tomt
14-23. Is it— old Union. Observe
the balance of the sentences. (12,111.,
2) and (12, II., I, f.) How is the idea
of union emphasized ? (12, IV., 25.)
18-19. draw down. Criticise.
out'the Anaphora, (12, IV., 23.)
32. what. Criticise this use of the
relative.
34. inviolability— executive. Ex-
plain.
14-iu. (III., 6.) . „
26-27. Emphasis and pause on " produces," " sustains, " prohteth.
■1
66
ADVANCED READER.
descendant of their ancient Kings, as a tonic to their shattered
constitution. Now, gentlemen, all this American experience.
Northern, Southern, and Central, is as accessible to us as to
40 the electors of Mr. Lincoln or Mr. Davis, or the subjects of
the Emperor Maximilian : it lies before us, an open vohmie,
and invites us to well read, mark, and digest its contents. . .
You will probably like me to define, gentlemen, that particu-
lar adaptation of the federal system which has lately found such
45 high favor in the eyes of our leading colonial politicians. It
is, perhaps, sufficient for my purpose to give you, both by
contrast and comparison, a broad, general view of what is,
and what is not, included in this constitutional charter. In
the first place, I may say, gentlemen, to take the most familiar
50 comparison, that we proceeded in almost an inverse ratio to
the course taken in the United States at the formation of their
constitiition. We began by dutifully acknowledging the
sovereignty of the Crown, as they did by boldly declaring their
total separation from their former Sovereign. Unlike our
55 neighbors, we have had no questions of sovereignty to raise.
We have been saved from all embarrassment on the subject
of sovereignty, by simply recognising it as it already exists
in the Queen of Great Britain and Ireland. There, for us,
the sovereign power of peace and war, life and death, receiv-
60 ing and sending ambassadors, still resides, so long as Her
Majesty and her descend" ts retain the allegiance of the
people of these Provinces. No doubt, some inconvenience
may arise from the habitual personal absence of the Sovereign ;
but even this difficulty, now that the Atlantic is an eight-day
37-38. tonic— constitution. Note
the play on words. (12, IV., 26,)
42. well. Criticise position.
50. an inverse ratio. Criticise this
phrase. Substitute a better one.
53. as they did. Does this convey
the meaning intended ?
54-55. Unlike our neighbors. Ex-
plain.
58-60. There— resides. Is this a
complete statement of the Royal Pre-
rogative ?
63. habitual. Distinguish from
"continual," "continuous," "perpet-
ual," and "incessant."
47. Notice emphasis on " is," and on " is not," in next line.
■iTj-'^Q, Read " \v> \?i.\<,e-. the most familiar comparison " in a lower pitch.
Return to the prevailing pitch on " that we proceeded," etc.
58. There. Emphatic.
t
McGEE.
67
ferry, is not insuperable. Next, we made the j^eneral the 65
supreme Government and the local derivative; while the
Americans did just the reverse.
As to the ..lerits and the consequences of this fundamental
difference, I shall say only this, that merely to differ from
another and a sometime established system, is, of course, no 70
merit in itself; but yei, if we are to be a distinct people from
our republican neighbors, we can be so and remain so, only
by the assertion of distinct principles of frovernment,--a far
better boundary than the River St. Lawrence, or the Ash-
burton line. "
But suppose their fundamental politics to be right, would
we then, for the sake of distinction, erect a falsehood at the
North, to enable us to contend against a truth at the South ?
Would we establish monarchy merely out of a spirit of antag-
onism ? No! gentlemen, God forbid ! I, of course, hold, not 80
only that our plan of government is politic in itself, but also,
that it is better than the American. I am prepared to main-
tain this at all times and against all comers : for if I had not
myself faith in our work, 1 should scorn to inculcate its obliga-
tions on the public. , r ^^
We build on the old foundations, though the result of our
deliberations is popularly called "the new Constitution." i
deny that the principles on which we proceeded are novel or
untried principles. These principles all exist, and for ages
have existed, in the British Constitution. Some of the con- 90
trivances and adaptations of principles are new ; but the
Royal authority, ministerial responsibility, a nominative Upper
65-67. we— reverse. Explain.
72-73. we— government. Explain
the philosophy of this statement.
76-77. would we. What is the
force of "would?" What princi-
ples govern the use of "shah" and
"should," and "will" and "would,"
in principal and subordinate propo-
sitions ?
80. No 1 — forbid! Note the pas-
sionate exclamation. (12, IV., 15.)
81. politic. Explain the meaning
here.
87-90. How does the speaker em-
phasize his statement ? (12, IV., 20.)
90-95. Some— making. Show from
history that this statement is cor-
rect.
65-66. Pause after " general " and " local."
77-78. Falling inflection— a positive idea is expressed.
88-89. Emphasize " novel " and " untried."
(III., 6.)
68
ADVANCED READER.
House, the full and free representation of the Commons, and
the independence of the Judj^^es, are not inventions of our
95 making. We ofler you no political patent medicine warranted
to cure everything, nor do we pretend that our work is a per-
fect work; but if we cannot make it perfect, we have at least
left it capable of revision, by the concurrence of the parties
to the present settlement, and consent of the same supreme
.00 authority from which we seek the original sanction of our
plan. Still it is to be hoped that the necessity for any revision
will seldom occur, for I am quite sure the people of these
Provinces will never wish to have it said of their Constitu-
tion, what the French bookseller of the last century said so
:o5 wittily, on being asked for the French Constitution— that he
did not deal in periodical publications !
We build on the old foundations, and I trust I may say, in
the spirit of the ancient founders, as well. The groundwork
of the monarchical form of Government is humility, self-denial,
,.0 obedience, and holy fear. I know these are not nineteenth
century virtues— neither are they plants indigenous to the
soil of the New World. Because it is a new world, as yet
undisciplined, pride and self-assertion, and pretension, are
more conmion than the great family of humble virtues whose
„5 names I have named. Pure democracy is very like pride— it
is the "good-as-you" feehng carried into politics. It asserts
an unreal equality between youth and age, subject and magis-
trate, the weak and the strong, the vicious and the virtuous.
But the same virtues which feed and nourish filial affection
,20 and conjugal peace in private life, are essential to uphold civil
authority ; and these alone are the virtues on which the mon-
archical form of Government can be maintained.
There was a time when such a doctrine as this which I am
now inculcating could hardly get a patient hearing in any part
,25 of North America ; but that time is fortunately passed away :
it is possible in our days, even for republican writers to admit
98. parties. Name them.
98-99. concurrence, consent. Dis-
tinguish.
105-106. he— publications ! What
quality of style ? {13, II., 3. ^•)
109-110. humility— fear. Criticise
this statement.
113. pride— pretension. Give Mc-
Gee's Antonyms.
1 19-122. But— maintained. Bring
out clearly the truth of this statement.
McGEE.
r,9
the merits of the monarchical system, without bein^,' hooted
into silence, as the elder Adams was when \\v iniMished ni
Philadelphia, towards the end of the last century, his chxiueut
" Discourses on Davila." ... 'Jo
We have not conceived our system in a spirit of antaf,'onism
to our next nei^dibors ; we shall still have enouf,di in connnon
with them constitutionally to obviate any very zealous propa-
<,'andism on either part ; i)ut we shall also have enouf^h lett of
our ancestral system to distin-^niish permanently our people 135
from their people, our institutions from their institutions, and
our history (when we shall have a history) from tiieir history.
I have referred to the assertion of somewhat similar prin-
ciples to our own now being made in Mexico. It would be
strange if Canada should reach, by deliberation and fore- 140
thought, the same results which Mexico has grasped at out of
the miserable depths of her long anarchy. We are not yet
informed whether the new Emperor designs to consolidate his
provinces, or to leave them their local organizations; but
this I know, that, notwithstanding all the immense natural .45
advantages of Mexico, I should, for my part, rather take my
chance for the permanent establishment of a free monarchy
in the North than in Mexico. We have already solved for
ourselves one great problem — the legal relation of Church
and State — which is still before the rulers of Mexico. If we .50
have but half the population, we have three times the number
of men of pure European race that Mexico has; and while I
own that I wish every success to the Mexican Empire, under
the auspices of France, I have, I confess, still stronger hopes
131-137. We — history. What
similarities exist between our Con-
stitution and the American ? What
are the differences ?
133. obviate. Distinguish from
" prevent."
135-137. See (12, IV., S,) and (12,
II., I, c.) What does the speaker
:ean by " history ? "
139. being mad-:: Parse, would.
See question on 11. Jb-jj.
141. grasped. Show the aptness
of this verb, explaining fully the Met-
aphor in the sentence, dive an ac-
count of the condition of Mexico in
1864. What led to the interfer-
ence of the French, and their failure
to establish a Mexican empire ?
I 148-150. We— State. RefertoCan-
\ adian history. What is our solu-
1 tion ?
145-146. The clause " notwithstanding— Mexico " is parenthetic.
70
ADVANCED READER.
.55 for the successful establishment of the free kiuKaoui of Canada,
under the auspices of Great Britain.
" i'or bright, and fierce, and tickle is the South ;
But (lark, and true, and tender is the North."
We have also solved, so far as the late Conferences could
.60 do so for these Provinces, the relation of the Crown to the
people, the po.-ers of the prerogative, and the sphere of the
suffra^'e. We Have preserved every British prniciple now ni
use among us, and we have recovered one or two that were
well-nigh lost; we have been especia'ly careful not to trench
xfison the prerogative of the Crown, as to the powers, raiik, or
income of its future representative on this continent ; as to
the di'mity of the office, or the style and title of the future
kingdom or viceroyalty, or by whatever other name it may be
Her Majesty's pleasure to designate hereafter her dominions
x;oOn this continent. Next to the United States, we have the
most extended suffrage in the New World ; some think quite
too far extended ; but in our state of society, I do not see how
that is to be avoided, in the selection, at least, of the tax-
imposing House of Parliament. We have, besides, restored
„5 to the Crown one of its essential attributes when, as the foun-
tain of honor, we leave to the Sovereign the confirmation of
the second, the smaller and more conservative Chamber ; and
we preserve for the Crown its other great attribute, as the
fountain of justice, by retaining its right to appoint the Judges,
,80 of course upon the advice of the Constitutional Councillors of
the Queen in this country, who are in turn responsible to Par-
liament and the people for their advice and appointments.
We have provided also, in our new arrangements, that the
condition of tenure of all offices shall be good l^ehavior, in
,85 contradistinction to the "spoils principle" of our next neigh-
bors. In all these respects we have built on the old founda-
tions, in the spirit of the old wisdoir and we have faith,
therefore, that our work will stand.
1C2-1G4. We— lost. Explain. Cf. , 180. Constitutional Councillors.
jj -„ Give another name.
T- -.it,-' 18^-iSf^ Wf — neierhbors. Point
To What char- • i«j i--- «» - ^. y- s
172. our — society.
acteristics does the speaker refer?
Note the force of " tax-imposing" in
11. 173-174-
out clearly the difference.
187-188. we— stand. State in de-
tail the grounds of this faith.
McGEE.
71
Naturally, gentlemen, we cannot expect that our course ^vlll
be all plain sailin-. We nu.st have our .liliuultu-s. as all ..^
States, new and old. have had; and this brink's ine to refer to
the apprehensions excited as to the Local Legislatures. I Ije
d.fterence of languaKo between the niajortty ot Lower Canada
-uul the majoritv of the whole Union is a difficuUy ; but it .s a
difficulty which almost every other nation has had. and has ..»
solved In Helf,Mun- they have at least two lan-ua-es;
i„ Switzerlai.d the> have three chief lan-uaKcs-(,eru,an,
I'rench, and Italian. The Federal form of government the
compromise between great States and small, seems peculiarly
•uiapted to conciliate difficulties of this description, and to .00
keep politically together men of different origins and languages.
I confess I have less anxiety on this score than 1 hayr on
another— the proper protection of the minorities as to religion
in Uprei and Lower Canada respectively. • • • _ •
I am as you are, interested m the due protection of the .05
rights of the minority, not only as an English-speaking mem-
ber in Lower Canada, but as interested naturally and reason-
ably for my co-religionists, who form the minority in Uppci
Canada. I am persuaded, as regards both minorities, that
they can have abundant guarantees, sacred beyond the reach ..o
of sectarian or sectional domination, for all their rights, civil
and religious. K we had failed to secure every possible con-
stitutional guarantee for our minorities, east and west, i am
sure the gentleman who may be considered your special repre-
sentative at .he Co'-iference, and i am equally sure that I ..5
myself, could have been no party to the conclusions ot the
late Conference. Bm we both beheved-and all our Canadian
colleagues went with us in this belief-that in securing the
power'of disallowance, under circumstances which mignt war-
rant it to the General Government, in giving the appointment ..o
of Judges and Local Governor^o the General Government,
180 Here follows the Rh^rical tinguish between a Federal and a
Prolepsis, or anticipation of objec- Legislative Union,
tions UJ9. compromise — small, biiow
that it is a " compromise."
Explain the ^„ ggctarian, sectional. Distin-
guish.
198. Federal-government. Dis- 216. no party. Criticise form.
190. plain sailing.
Metaphor.
mmmmmmtmmM
72
AnVANCF.n READ UN.
and in (.xprcsslv providnif,' in the Constitution tor tlic educa-
tional rights of the minority, we had taken every GfuirMntec,
Icf^'ishitive, judicial and educational, against t',- oppre-.L,.v)n of
225 a sectional minority by the sectional majority ....
The Protestant minority in I-owc Can. j'/i and tl\e Catholic
minority in Upper Canada may depeiio upon it the Cieneral
Government will never see them oppressed-- -even if there
were any disposition to oppress them, which I hope there is
330 not in Upper Canada ; wiiich I am quite sure there is not in
Lower Canada. No General Government could stand for a
sinj^de session under the new arranf^^ements without Catholic
as well as Protestant support ; in fact, one f,aeat {<ood to be
expected from the larf,'er interest with which that Government
235 will Itave to deal will be, that local prejudices, and all other
prejudices, will fall more and more into contempt, while our
statesmen will rise more and more superior to such low anil
pitifid politics.
What would be the effect of any set of men, in any sub-
-'40 division of the Union, attempting, for example, the relif^ious
ascendency of any race or creed ? Why ! the direct effect
would be to condemn themselves and their principles to insig-
nificance in the General Government. Neither you here, nor
the Catholic minority in Upper Canada, will owe your local
245 rights and liberties 1... tin forbearance or goodwill of the
neighboring majoritv , '■• 'cr of ym will tolerate being
tolerated; but all y im special mstitutions, religious and
educational, as .^•ell as all your general and common franchises
and rights, will be secured under the broad seal of the Empire,
250 which the strong arm of the General Government will sufter
no bigot to break, and no Province to lay its finger on, should
any one be foolish enough to attempt it.
This is the frame of government we have to ofifer you, and
to this system, when fully understood, 1 am certain you will
227. it. Explain use.
j 246-247. tolerate— tolerated. What
figure ?
229-2 M. Observe the balanced! 248-240. franchises and rights.
structure. (12, 11., i, c.) Distinguish.
243. Read to the end of the paragraph with increasing force and energy.
.w.c;/;/c
73
lion
.ugh
.ive a cheerful and u beartv adherence W e othv Ua- ^^ood ,^,
^.ople of these colonies a syst.m of .ovenuuent ^^^^\^^
secure to them ample mea.,s of prescrvn,^ esternal an<! mtt -
nal peace; we offer to th.n. the cunmon pioht^^ ol ,. u .
which was represented, u. iSf.;„ by in^ports and • vpor.->. t.
gross value of 137,000.000 of dollars and by ,ea-,nu.. .0
,nd lake tonnage of i ..ooo.kh, of tons I X\ e off. to ea- 1
„ther special advantages u, det.ul. The Mar.tmie i .0 n, -s
,Mve ns a ri^ht of way a.nl free outports for Ine m.>n
cf every year ; we ^ave then what they need direct c.
with the great producing regions of the Notth-wes
vear round. This connection, if they do noi get .1
Canada, they must ultin.atel ■ get through the I nUed ^ rates
and one reason why 1, in season and perhaps out oi n,
luive continued an advocate for an Intercolonial Kailv. is,
that the first and closest and most lasting connection .- n.se .70
Lower Provinces with the co. linental trade system, u i>e
established by, and through, and in union ^^th, Canau I
do not pretend that mere railw .y connection will m.ke na<te
between us and them, but 1 am quite sure we can hax. o
considerable intercourse, no ex. .anges or accoun s, yro or «■ .75
'Without such a connection bot . for postal and for raveling
purposes. 1 rejoice, moreover, that we, men of insular oug n,
are about .0 recover one of 01, lost sen'^es-the sense that
comprehends the sea-that we a e not now about ^o subside
into a character so foreign to al our antecedents, tluit ol a .80
u.ere inland people. The Union of the Provinces restores s
to the ocean, takes ns back to the Atlantic and launches us
once more on the modern Mediterranean, the true central sea
of the western world.
But it is not for its material ach antages only, by which we .85
may enrich each other, nor its joi, 1 political action, by which
'66-272. Note the structure of this
sentence. (12, IV., 10, and 16.)
277. we. Who?
278. sense. Ciive meaning here.
oSv2H| Show the aptness of the
266. This connection. Why does j P^n-, modern JledUerranean. "
, ;„ ,\,,,e 5 and explain true — wuhli.
the sentence begin tlnis .•' ■*"" >= f
255-261. OL ve the Anaphora.
258-261. Contrast with this state-
ment the present condition of our
commerce.
if 1
lit I
74
ADVANCED READER.
i-
we may protect each oilier, that the Union is to he valued ;
it is hecause it will give, as it only can give, a distinct
historical existence to British America. If it should he,
»9o fortunately, safely established and wisely upheld, mankind will
find here, standing side by side, on this half-cleared continent,
the British and American forms of free government. Here
we shall have the means of comparison and contrast in the
greatest affairs ; here we shall have principles tested to their
295 last results, and maxims inspected and systems gauged, and
schools of thought, as well as rules of state, reformed and
revised, foimded and refounded. y\ll that wholesome stimulus
of variety which was wanting to the intellect of Rome under
the first emperors, will be abundantly supplied out of our own
300 circumstances and those of our neighbors, so that no Cicero
need ever, by personal considerations, enter into indefensible
inconsistencies, and no Tacitus be forced to disguise his
virtuous indignation at public corruption, under the thin veil
of an outlandish allegory.
305 I may be sanguine for the future of this country ; but if it
be an error of judgment to expect great things of young coun-
tries, as of young people who are richly endowed by nature,
and generously nurtured, then it is an error I hope never to
amend. And here let me say, that it is for the young men of
3«o all the Provinces we who labor to bring about the Confedera-
tion are especially working : it is to give them a country wide
enough and diversified enough to content them all, that we
labor ; it is to erect a standard worthy to engage their affec-
tions and ambition ; it is to frame a system which shall blend
287. that.
288. only.
Parse.
Parse. Give reasons
for preferrin.t^ " atone."
2S9. historical existence. What
is meant ?
290. fortunately, safely. Parse the
former, and criticise the effect pro-
duced b_- its conjunction with the
latter. Where should "fortunately"
be placed ?
297-299. All— emperors. I^xplain
fully.
300. Cicero. Is this noun proper
or common? (12, IV., 19.)
30.>3i9. Note the structure of this
sentence. (12, IV., 15, 16, and 23,)
and (12, II., I, c)
312. that. Cf. 1. 287.
314. shall blend. Give the force
of " shall."
309. young men. Emphatic.
310. we. Km.phatic here, but not in 1. 312, because in the latter case it is
not a new idea. (III., 7.)
McGKE.
75
,he best prmoples with the best --nerswhid. shall iniuse 3.
the spirit of honor into the pursiut of politics, that xvt h.uc
striven-and who can be more interested ,n our success than
Jheyoun, men of the Provinces, who are to carry on the
country into another century ?. ... ,,„,pieted 3-0
And now, I'entlemen, that the arcnuecih iiav i
the] plan, i is for you to say sl,aU the buikl,n« Ik- pu up.
I for you, and for your representatives in Parha.ner.t fo,
the oeonle of the Maritime Provhtces and the.r represeuta Uves
'^o' a whether this great work ,s to be earned wtth all due
di i°enee, to its completion. It the design should seem to you ,.5
; e and fit as it seems to us, then fling all misgivings far
behind you and go ahead! Let no loeal prejud.ee imp de,
let no personal ambition obstruct, the great work. \\ 1 .
t ver aborigines of the laud might H-eins.nu.ed the
sceptics among ourselves that union is streng h. J'"'.;^^,"
it gave at one time the balance of power on this soil to th
Six Nations,"-so that Ivnglaud. France, and HoU.and a
sought the alliance of the red-skinned statesmen of Onondaga .
W La was it made the names of Brant, and Pont.ac, and
Teeumseth so formidable in their day ? Because they, too, ,3,
had Iceived the idea-an immense stride for the savage
intellect to make^.hat union is strength. Let the peisonah.
ties and partizanship of our times stand abaslied ,n the pre-
sence of those forest-born Federalists, who rose superior to all
mere tribal prejudices in endeavoring to save a whole peo,,le «»
I am, 1 do assure you, persuaded in my inmost mmd that
these are the days of destiny for British America; that our
opportunity to determine our own future, under the favor of
Diline Providence, is upon us ; that there is a tide in the
3.s.3..carr,--centur^^^:T^^;S'^,„.'^'SS.f^
320M5I. We have hsre the Perora-
tion of the speech. 3J7-340. Wh.it poetic ornament
325-340. Classify these sentences i^-ji^^.re here ?
'tX'bal^nce of power. Explain. ,,,-,,6. there-Ude Explain and
337. is. Account for the tense. account^for the Metaphor.
,3S. Read to the end wi;;:^;;^"'^uality, and with louder force and
higher pitch.
76
ADVANCED READER.
345 affairs of nations, as well as of men, and that we are now at
the flood of that tide. Whether the men who have this great
duty in charge may be found equal to the task, remains to be
proved by their votes ; but for my part, I am hopeful for the
early and mutually advantageous union of all the Provmces ;
350 for the early and firm establishment of our monarchical Con-
federation on this continent.
1. Classify the preceding composition. Is it mainly argumentative or
expository? (3. IV.) , nr \ r-- o
2. Show that McGee uses the leading arts cS position. (3, Hi) ^-^^ e
examples. . ,
, Point out marked instances of command of language, wide range ot
illustration, vigor of expression, and apt use of hgures of speech.
4 What proofs does the speaker give of his attachment to the British
constitution, and of his statesmanlike wisdom, prescience, and breadth of
view ? 1 i f
5. To what extent does McGee show that he possesses the arts ot an
orator ? (3, IV.)
Composition.
I. Reproduce the substance of McGee's speech under the following
heads -I. The time, a favorable one for discussing Confederation. 11.
tSn the watchword in America. III. The peculiar features of British
American Confederation. IV. Contrast with the American. V. Mexico
an^l Canada. VI. British American federation ^-^^'^^'^''^^''^^''^'^^1
VII. Difhculties in the way. VIII. Rights of minorities. IX. The advan-
tages of the scheme as a whole.
z. Reproduce under the following heads the substance of the notes on
the Dominion and Provincial Constitutions ;-I. The terms-Cons itution
Federal Ckwernment, Ministry, and Executive. I . C°'-P--°" i^^^J^^^,
the Canadian form of government and that of England. HI. The powers
of the Crow"a in Canada. IV. The powers of the lieutenant-governors.
V. The Dominion ministry-the appointment of its members, its organiza-
tion, its theoretical and practical powers, and Us relations to farliament^
VI The powers of the Parliament of Canada. VII. The relations of the
Dominion Government to the Imperial and Provincial Governments^
VIII. The position of the judges in Canada. IX. The constitution and
powers of each of the Local Parliaments.
3. Give a sketch of Canadian constitutional history.
t.' m
THOS CHANDLER HALIBURTON, M.A., D.C.L.
Legislative Assembly of his native Provmce as membci lui the count)
I
V. H
< i\i
mm
li
11
i i i ; '
t I
1 M
ADVANCED READER.
Annapolis. Here he took an active part, and by his debating powers and
intellectual qualities soon attained a leading position. As an orator, he is
.5 said to have been earnest, impressive, and dignified, though he often
showed a strong propensity for wit and humor. In i82cS, when only thirty-
twc, years of age, he received the appointment of Chief Justice of the Court
of Common Pleas, discharging the duties of the position with much ability,
till US40 when, owing to the abolition of the Court, he was transferred to
.0 the Supreme Court. In February, 1S56, he resigned his office, and soon
afterwards removed to Mngland, where he spent the rest of his life. At
the l- nglish (ieneral Elections of 1859, through the influence of his friends,
he was induced to enter the Imperial Parliament as member for Launces-
ton Parliamentary life, however, was somewhat irksome to him; and,
.s though he joined in some of the debates, he seems to have taken greater
pleasure in advancing the interests of the Village of Isleworth, where he
lived by contributing to its local institutions and aiding in various ways
the charitable projects of its inhabitants. Here he died August 27th, 1865.
Works— ^« Historical <uul Statistical Account of Nova Scotia (1829).
30 On the publication of this history, Haliburton first became known as an
author The work is written with clearness, spirit, accuracy and impar-
tialitv and is to the present day regarded as a standard work. So highly
was iV thought of in Nova Scotia, that the House of Assembly tendered
the author a vote of thanks, which he received in person in his place in
35 Parliament. Kentucky ; a Tale (1834). The Clockmakcr ; or, Say-ings and
Doings of Sam Slick in Slickville (ist series, 1837; and, 1838; 3rd, 1840 :
To preserve some anecdotes and stories which were being forgotten, Hali-
burton began anonymously a series of articles in Howe's paper. The Nova
Scotru,, making use of a Yankee pedlar as his mouthpiece. The charac er
40 adopted proved a success, and the papers appeared in a collected form under
the fore-oing title. They were afterwards republished in England and the
United States, and were translaf^^d into foreign languages. The later papers,
^vhich were intended to have an extra-provincial circulation, treat of matters
that relate to mankind in general, and illustrate almost every familiar topic
4, of the day while the earlier ones, which had a more limited circle of readers,
contain shrewd, sarcastic, or humorous remarks on local politics, slavery
domestic institutions and customs, and such subjects as would interest his
countrymen. To use his own words, he "wrapt up his truths with a little
humor in order that when people read them for amusement, they might
50 find they had learned something they did not know before.'^ The Letter
ha^r of the Great Western; or, Life in a Steamer (1839). The Bubbles of
Canada. A Reply to the Report of the Earl of Durham : In this volume he
points out the objectionable features of the Report with no small amount
of acrimony and ridicule. Traits of American Humor: An inimitable col-
s5 lection of comic stories, brimful of racy American humor Sam Slick s
^yi,, S^,,,., and Modern Instances: This work is superior, from a literary
point of view, to those which precede it, shewing higher imaginative powers
and a loftier range of thought. The Old Judge ; or. Life in a Colony. The
HALIBURTON.
79
. u .... WuL- ,1,1,1 Mi'intlc of the Kiii^l'nh in Aiinnai. The
;!The Honorable Mr. Slick. Attache .^f the Amencan ^-^^^:;\^,
r nrt of St lames- The volume abounds svuh the same .uh humor.
7;»//c.s y/i /'o'V'^" (i"<f Colonial Wool.
CK,.nc«„-Al,houg., a ,.,»»„, ,»arY" ^l^ mST ^N^f Sc^ ^S '"
Tr"';";::; u"is » ^r^ si L, ^e „..= ,., ta,..^ X^c rcvdau™,
i;r';Ta u',": ^.t:- pr.,„.Hc„, and »ro„„.n, .,, » of » ■-.
; re uUv'ith profit by others besides his countrymen. As a story-teller he
hlorr. ; and p„s»ss'» an i„d,vid„a.iCy .ha. ensure, hin, a place a,n„„«.. ^^
the best-known characters of Liction.
METAPHYSICS.
From " Traits of American Humor."
Most people are of opinion that whatever is is ng^t ; but
strange to say, an acquau.tance with pen and mk and tha sor
of thmg .s very apt to reverse that opn.ion. No sooner do we
Liter ARY.-Explain the meaning | }■ whatever
mor, and " wit. (,i3> ^^•> j' '
right. Who hold
What is the real
E.ocuTtoN.KV.-This selection may be r^'^-^^^^^::^::!':;^-
cise, if the dialogue be properly '^^'•^^:^^^^^y«;^ }\^e Doctor should be
character of each of the speakers, ihe tone ot the i ,„atter-of-fact,
potnpous, in contrast to that of Uncle Tim ^^ ° f ' '^ s.^he same .piality
tut Afterwards loses his temper. Aunt Judy ^hmilj^;^ ^,f J^ one required in
of voice as Malachi, or the Schoolmaster The change ott^^^^^ l^ ^^^^^^
the reading of the narrative connecting tii^ \vOrfis oi lu-
will give additional variety.
* I
1 1
it-
i
Is
MM
8o
ADVANCED READER.
\ A.
■' \-
■ '\
6
\ ■ •: ';
■i
\ /'■ r
11 ' M '1
inli
begin to study metaphysics, than we find how egregiously we
5 have been mistaken in supposing that " Master Parson is
really Master Parson."
I, for my part, have a high opinion of metaphysical studies,
and think tlie science a very useful one, because it teaches
people what sheer nobodies they are. The only objection is,
10 that they are not disposed to lay this truth sufficiently to
heart, but continue to give themselves airs, just as if some
folks were really some folks.
Old Doctor Sobersides, the minister of Pumpkinville, where
I lived in my youth, was one of tlie metaphysical divines of
15 the old school, and could cavil upon the ninth part of a hair
about entities and quiddities, nominalism and realism, free-will
and necessitv, with which sort of learning he u:.ed to stuff his
sermons and astound his learned hearers, the bumpkins. They
never doubted that it was all true, but were apt to say with
2othe old woman in Moliere : " He speaks so well that I don't
understand him a bit."
I remember a conversation that happened at my grand-
father's, in which the Doctor had some difficulty in making
his metaphysics all "as clear as preaching." There was my
25 grandfather. Uncle Tim, who was the greatest hand at raising
onions in our part of the country, but " not knowing meta-
phys-cs, had no notion of the true reason of his not being sad ;"
my Aunt Judy Keturah Titterwell, who could knit stockings
"like all possest," but could not syllogise; Malachi Muggs,
30 our hired man that drove the oxen, and Isaac Thrasher, the
district schoolmaster, who had dropped in to warm his fingers
and get a drink of cider. Something was under discussion,
and my grandfather could make nothmg of it ; but the Doctor
said it was " metaphysically true."
35 " Pray, Doctor," said Uncle Tim, " tell me something about
5-6. Master— Parson. What view I 13. Note the appropriateness of the
are metaphysicians represented as j names given to the characters in the
holding ?
g. what— are. Point out the play
on "nobodies." (12, IV,, 26.) Cf.
1. 12.
selection.
35. Observe that, to increase the
humor of the dialogue, the re.narkR of
each individual are in l<eeping with
his occupation.
HALIBURTON.
8i
metaphysics ; I have often lieard of tliat science, but never for
m}' life could find out what it was."
" Metaphysics," said the Doctor, "is the science of abstrac-
tion."
" I'm no wiser for that explanation," said Uncle Tun. 40
"It treats," said the Doctor, "of matters most profound
and sublime, a little difficult perhaps for a conmion intellect or
an unschooled capacity to fathom, but not the less important
on that account, to all living beings."
" What does it teach ? " asked the Schoolmaster. 45
" It is not applied so much to the operation of teaching,"
answered the Doctor, " as to that of inquiring ; and the chief
inquiry is, whether things are, or whether they are not."
" I don't understand the question," said Uncle Tim, takmg
the pipe out of his mouth. _ "^
" For example, whether this earth on which we tread," said
the Doctor, giving a heavy stamp on the floor, and setting his
foot slap on the cat's tail, " whether the earth doqs really exist,
or whether it does not exist."
" That is a point of considerable consequence to settle," 55
said my grandfather.
" Especially," added the schoolmaster, " to the holders of
real estate."
" Now the earth," continued the Doctor, " may exist—"
" Who the dogs ever doubted that ?" asked Uncle Tim. 6°
"A great many men," said the Doctor, "and some very
learned ones."
Uncle Tim stared a moment, and then began to fill his
pipe, whistling the tune of "Heigh ! Betty Martin," while the
Doctor went on : ^
" The earth, I say, may exist, although Bishop Berkeley has
proved beyond all possible gainsaying or denial, that it does
46. not. Criticise position.
48. whether— not. Under what
form has this statement appeared in
the preceding context ?
52-53. Note the means the writer
lakes to add to the broad liumor of
the dialogue.
55-56. In what spirit is this re-
mark made ?
61-62. A great — ones . To whom
does the Doctor refer ?
66-69. Point out the inconsistency
of the Doctor's position.
mmmm
I ll
1,
1
4[\
I
III
I'
n
( 1
'i i.'"
^o
75
82 ADVANCED READER.
not exist. The case is clear; the only dimcuhy is, to knoNv
whether we shall beheve it or not." , o-
"And how." asked Uncle Tim, - is all this to be found out ?
" By digsin^' down to the first principles," answered the
Doctor. 1^4-1
" Ay," interrupted Malachi, "there is nothmg equal to the
spade and pickaxe." .
" That is true," said my grandfather, gomg on m Malachi s
way, " 'tis by digging for the foundation, that we shall find out
whether the world exists or not ; for, if we dig to the bottom
of the earth and find the foundation-why then we are sure o
it But if we find no foundation, it is clear that the work
8o stands upon nothing, or, in other words, that it does not stand
at all ; therefore, it stands to reason—"
"I beg your pardon," interrupted the Doctor, "but you
totally mistake me; I used the word digging metaphorically.
meaning the profoundest cogitation and research into the
85 nature of things. That is the way in which we may ascertain
whether things are, or whether they are not. '
"But if a man can't believe his eyes," said Uncle lim,
" what signifies talking about it ?"
" Our eyes," said the Doctor, " are nothing at all but the
CO inlets of sensation, and when we see a thing, all we are aware
of is that we have a sensation of it : we are not aware that the
thing exists. We are sure of nothing that we see with our
eyes."
" Not without spectacles," said Aunt Judy. _
95 " Plato, for instance, maintains that the sensation of any
obiect is produced by a perpetual succession of copies, images,
or counterfeits, streaming off from the object to the organ of
sensation. Descartes, too, has explained the matter upon the
principle of whirligigs." ^, ,
xoo " But does the world exist ?" asked the Schoolmaster.
73-74. Observe that the humor is
caused largely by the efforts of the
unlearned hearers to join in the
conversation when some idea or
thought is expressed which they
imagine they understand
75-7G. in— way.
words. Cf. 1. 83.
Express in other
87-88. Why does Uncle Tim now
become impatient ? Note his intel-
lectual effort in 11. 75-81.
99. principle of whirligigs. Ex-
plain.
100. The Schoolmaster now brings
the Doctor back to his text. Cf.
1.51-
t
HALWURTON.
'^3
- A good deal may be said on both sides." replied ihe
Doctor, " thou-h tlie ablest heads are for non-existence.
.. In common cases," said Uncle Juu, - those who utter
nonsense are considered blockheads."
>> But in metaphysics," said the Doctor, "the case is dd erent. -s
-Now all this is hocus-pocus to me," said Aunt Judy, sus-
pending her knittin^r-work, and scratchin^^ her lorehead with
one of the needles, " I don't understand a bit more of the
business than I did at first." , r ^^r " ^',u\ no
>'ril be bound there is many a learned professor, said '-
Uncle Tim, " could say the same after spinning a Ion- yarn ot
'" 11i?Doct'or did not admire this gibe at his favorite science.
- That is as the case may be," said he ; " this thing or tliat
tlung may be dubious, but what then ? Doubt is the begin- -s
'MUtr of wisdom." . .
''No doubt of that." said my grandfather, beginning to
poke the fire, " and when a man has got through his doubtmg,
what does he begin to build up in the metaphysical way .
" Why, he begins by taking something tor granted, said
the Doctor.
" But is that a sure way of going to work .-'
•' 'Tis the only thing he can do," replied the Doct.or. after
a pause, and rubbing his forehead as if he was not altogether
satisfied that his foundation was a solid one. My grandfa her .^s
might have posed him with another question, but he poked the
fire and let him go on.
" Metaphysics, to speak exactly '
" Ah," interrupted the Schoolmaster, " bring it down to vul-
rrar fractions, and then we shall understand it. ' '^o
'^ " -Tis the consideration of immateriality, or the mere spirit
and essence of things."
I02. the — non-existence. Who j
hold this doctrine ? ,
105. But — different. What does |
the Doctor mean ? 1
115-116. Doubt— wisdom. Explain.
118. How does the writer bring
out Uncle Tim's impatience here and
in what follows ?
1 18-128 Observe that Uncle Tim
now poses the Doctor, but, through
respect for him, does not press liis
advantage. The Doctor afterwards
tries to redeem his credit by words
of learned length and thundermg
sound."
i
m
r
»4
ADVANCED READER.
lilt
1 )
Iri
140
"Come, come," said Aunt Judy, taking' a pinch of snuff,
" now 1 sec into it."
,35 " Thus, man is considered, not in his rorporeahty, but ui
his essence or capabihty of beinj; ; for a man metaphysically,
or to metaphysical purposes, hath two natures, that of spirit-
uality and that of corporeality, which may be considered sepa-
rate."
" What man ?" asked Unck; Tim.
" Why, any man ; Malachi 'here, for example ; I may con-
sider him as Malachi spiritual or Malachi corporeal."
"That is true," said Malachi, "for when I was in the mili-
tia, they made me a sixteenth corporal, and I carried grog to
,45 the drummer."
" That is another affair," said the Doctor in continuation ;
" we speak of n.-.n in his essence ; we speak, also, ol the
essence of locality, the essence of duration—"
" And essence of peppermint," said Aunt J'ldy.
,50 " Pooh !" said the Doctor, ' the essence I mean is cjuite a
different essence."
" Something too fine to be dribbled through the worm ot a
still," said my grandfather.
" Then I am all in the dark again," rejoined Aunt Judy.
,55 " By the spirit and essence of things I mean things in the
• " And what becomes of a thing when it goes into the ab-
stract ?" asked Uncle Tim.
" Wliy, it becomes an abstraction."
,60 "There we are again," said Uncle Tim; "but what on
earth is an abstraction ? "
" It is a thing that has no matter : that is, it cannot be telt,
seen, heard, smelt, or tasted ; it has no substance or solidity ;
it is neither large nor small, hot nor cold, long nor short."
143-145. Point out Malg-chi's mis-
take. (12, IV., 26.)
146, etc. Note that the Doctor
seems to understand this part of his
subject.
T47. man— essence. Express this
in another form.
152-153. Something— still. What
feeling prompts this remark ?
161. abstraction. Explain clearly
what the Doctor means. Illustrate
hv a reference to the grammatical
te'rms " common or concrete and ab-
stract."
i6o. There— again. Explain.
t
HAUnURTON.
85
uThen what is the U>nK a.ul short of it ?- askr.l the- School- .f-.
ms.ster.
' Abstraction," repHed the Doctor.
.. Suppose, for instance," said Malachi. - that I had a pUch-
""-Z" said the Doctor, "consider a pitchfork in -rneral ; >:-
that is.'neither this one nor that one. nor any particuhu one,
but a pitchfork or pitchforks divested of then- niatenahty-
these are thinj^s in the abstract."
" They are thinj^s in the hay-mow," said Mahichi.
.'Fray," said Uncle Tim. "have there been many such .73
things discovered?"
- Discovered!" returned the Doctor, "why, ; 11 tlnn-s, whether
in heaven or upon the earth, or in the waters under the earth,
whether small or great, visible or invisible, annnate or main-
mate ; whatever the eye can see or the ear can hear, or the .eo
nose can smell, or the fin-ers touch; finally whatever exists
or "is imaginable in the nature of things, past, present, or to
come, all may be abstractions."
- Indeed !" said Uncle Tim, " pray, what do you make 0}
the abstraction of a red cow ?" , • „ "'^
" \ red cow," said the Doctor, " considered metaphysically
or as an abstraction, is an animal possessing neither hide nor
horns, bones nor flesh, but is the mere type, eidolon and
fantastical semblance of these parts of a quadruped. It has a
shape without any substance, and no color at all, for its redness ..o
is the mere counterfeit or imagination of such. As it lacKS the
positive, so is it also deficient in the accidental properties of
all the animals in its tribe, for it has no locomotion, stability-
or endurance, neither goes to pasture, gives milk, chews llie
cud nor performs any other function of the horned beast but >
is a mere creation of the brain, begotten by a freak of the
fancy and nourished by a conceit of the imagination.
16^ What does the Schoolmaster : the explanation, (12 IV if..) The
meSbr thelonKandshortofif? Doctor is now at uU gallop on h.s
175.176. Pray-discovered. What hobby. Cf. 11. 13-1^.
feeling prompts this question? (12, j ^^^^ poojtive, accidental. Explain.
Parse " positive,"
')5
IV., 13)
187-199. Observe that the emphatic
enumeration of these particulars
heightens the ludicrous effect of
197. fancy, imagination. Distin-
guish.
I?"
I
H '
f ;
Ml
1 J
86
APr.lXCED h'/: IDEA'.
iOQ
"A '.loj?'s foot!" exclaimed Aunt Judy. "All the meta-
physics under the sun wouldn't make a pound of butter!'
" That's u fact, " said Uncle Tim.
I. Classify the precedinK selection.
2 Show that the humor of the selection consists mainly in Doctor
Sobersides' own imperfect knowled^'e of the meaning of the phrases
he uses; the i^jnorance and simplicity of his audience, who evidence
their desire to understand tlie subjci t ; the ridiculous concomitants of
serious statements; and unintentional puns on the part of the Doctor's
hearers.
Composition.
Rewrite in the indirect form of narration from 1. 35 to 1. <}<).
t !
if fill
CHARLES HEAVYSEGE.
Biographical.— Charles Heavysege, the gifted author of Saul, was born
in Liverpool, r:ngland, May 2nd, il-'if). On his arrival in Canada in uS^j.
he took up his residence in Montreal, where for a time he worked as a
machinist, earning by hard labor a modest subsistence for himself and his
5 family. Afterwards he became a local reporter on the staff of the Montreal
Daily Witiuss ; but, as has been the case with many another son of genius,
his life was one 'nng struggle with poverty. Through all his earlier years
of toil and harassing cares, he de.-oted himself to study and poetical compo-
sition, but published nothing till he was nearly forty years of age. A poem
,0 in blank verse saw the light in 1S54. This production, crude, no doubt,
and immature, met with a chilling reception even from his friends. Some
time afterwards appeared a collection of fifty sonnets, many of them vigor-
ous and even lofty in tone, but almost all of them defective in execu-
tion, owing to the author's want of early culture, Saul, his greatest
15 work, was published in 1857, and fortunately fell into the hands of Haw-
thorne, then a resident of Liverpool, who had it favorably noticed in the
North British Review. Longfellow and Emerson, too, spoke highly of its
excellence, the former pronouncing it to be "the best tragedy written since
the days of Shakespeare." Canadians then discovered that Heavy sege
20 was a genius, and made partial atonement for their neglect; but even to the
end the poet's struggle with fortune was a bitter one. His death took
place in August, 1876.
HEAVVSEGI-:
87
Works -S<."/ (1H57); A Scriptural Tranf.ly. Count rilitt<>: "f-'I'.l^^
rnemnTMarriaK . a Dra.na i. t.ve acts , .S(,o). This pro.l.K tion ,s .nf.-nor
:""mu^ on because it .Ices uot possess the epic sul.i.unty ot th.. sacre.l ..
^ I U because iu it tl,cre is tc, much stra.niu^ after eftect, «»"• chara^^
J; iation is defective, and the criticisu. ..f life c'.splaved .s not u tie
iX quality. y,tl>tl,airs Dau.UUr (...,3); A D.an.a uh.ch f..l lo.s
lo el te Scriptural uarratue. and. so far as concerns art.st.c execut.on,
t^^^r U.L:,. The lines ^o. .ith greater s •""-- :^; -;;- '"
Vwer commo.ipl.'uo expressions, an.l the author has gamed a hrnur ,uas
e V Over the hetnric'l aids of figures of speech, ll.s uund, ho.ev
how no increase in strengt,., and we miss ,he ru,..d grandeur and
"r^.le .lelineations of his earliest dran.a. '/'/,.■ A,lrou,t, : A Novel , ,N< .)■
les these works, lleavysege produced many shorter p.eces, one o e 3.
'melt of which. The Dark Ilunis.nan, was sent to the La.uulun, M.uU.ly
just before his death.
Cr.t.ca,.-To Art Heavysege owed little. Kven his most elaborate
prt^'lions are <lefaced by nnuu.sical Hues. pro.uc P'-ses^- --;-- ^„
UKl faults (.f taste and judgnunt. I'-ut he owed '7'^\»" ^'^'r; ■,'.,;;-
Is endowed with real and fervid, though unecpial and irregular, '.'< n.us.
T^^'c'umstances of his life, as much as to the chanicter . . >s mmd.
ma be attributed the pathetic sadness that pervades h,s woiks. <>' ca-
"ona 1 .. is true, there is a faint gleam of humor : but tt is .nm humo
;;^\;ever glows with gen.alitv or concentrates .nto ^^ ^^^Ij^^'
nuaint sarcasm, too. display tlu.nselves ,n some of the Sp ri. ..c -,cs n
S / But for sublimity of conception and power of evok.ng una, . o
h or and dread. Heavvsoge i.. unsurpassed except by the masters of our
iteraturo He possesses, also, an irti.aate knowle.lge of the workings of
r^uman hea:^ ; his delineations of character are l^-^^' -' ,; -•:;;^^ ^°
and his pictures of impassioned emot.on are wonder!,., m then cp c
Grandeur Every page of his dramas betrays an ardent study of the
Bile Milton and Shakespeare, both in the reproduction of images and
Ih:^^; Ind in the prevailing accent of his style. Hut 1^ has ^or.^r^
of his own ; for many of his sentences are remarkable for their genuine
now . ■ and keen and concentrated energy. Here and there, too, we meet
wTth exqu site pieces of description, and some of the lyrics m Saul are
rof Shtncv and musical cadence. Without early culture, and am 1
toilsome and uncongenial labors of his ^aily Hfe^Heavysege ha.es 1 -
lished his right to a foremost place in the ('anadian Temple of l.ime . what
intght hi not have done for himself and his adopted country, had he been
favored by circumstances as he was by Nature ?
pg) jH r» 5n i B B f i k% t , i -^ w =>i MH i Jitm--mW Sif)mki-^^
— tt,---'v '^^^ W^ - i ' SS ^.
,
nip^
f i Jl
88 Ain'ANCED READER.
THE DARK HUNTSMAN.
A Die;ini.
'TwAS eve, and I dreamed that across the dim plain
One swept o'er tlie stubble, — one ploughed through the grain
His aspect was eager, his courser was fleet,
He drove through the gloom as through air drives the sleet ;
5 And dark was his visage, and darker it grew,
As o'er the dim landscape yet faster he flew.
I dreamed still my dream, and beheld him career —
Fly on like the wind after ghosts of the deer —
Fly on like the wind, or the shaft from the bow,
»o Or avalanche urging from regions of snow ;
Or star that is shot by the Gods from its s})here :
He bore a Winged Fate on the point of his spear;
His eyes were as coals that in frost fiercely glow,
Or diamonds of darkness — " Dark huntsman, what, ho ! "
«s " What, ho ! "' and my challenge went wild through the vale,
Literary. — Note that the Imitative
Harmony, of the use of which this
poem is a remarkable example, is
secured mauiiy by the metrical move-
ment, the frequent Alliteration, and
the varying character of the vowel
sounds. (13, III., I.)
Name the metre. What is the
metrical movement intended to re-
present ? Scan 11. 1-4.
3. Note the vowel .\lliteration. \
4. He — sleat. What is peculiar in
the arrangement of these sentences ?
(12, IV., 27.) j
8-9. Observe the Anaphora. (12, '
IV., 23.) I
12. Winged Fate. Meaning?
14. diamonds of darkness. K.\-
plain.
14-15. what, ho! Note the mode
of transition from one paragraph to
another. (12, III., 7.)
15-32. How many rhymes are there
in this stanza ? Note that the unity
(12, III., 5,) is preserved by the char-
acter of the rhymes and the continu-
ous scansion of 11. 21-32, and that the
key to the Imitative Harmony is the
word " bellowed," the sound of which
is echoed throughout the remainder
of the stanza, even after the dark
huntsman has ceased.
Elocutionary.— This selection is to be read in the same tone as a per-
son would use if describing to another a dream, that is, in narrative pure
tone. The time and force will vary to express the different thoughts and
feelings the words indicate.
1. I'ause after "eve."
2. One swept, one ploughed, are not antithetic. Notice the time re-
quired. (III. 4.)
14. Dark huntsman, what, ho 1 Mechanical pure tone. (III., i, h.)
HEAVYSEGE.
89
as
\n(i long was my hollo, and loud was my hail :
^> Dark huntsman, dark huntsman, what ! whithrr away?
Dark huntsman," I shouted, " I charge thee to stay ;
And backwards he bellowed. " I cannot obey—
A thousand ere midnight my task is to slay ;
But ere comes the morrow.
With sickness and sorrow,
Shall I be swift riding again on this way."
And the huntsman laughed hollow,
As my fancy did follow
Him on his black courser that, knowmg, did neigli ;
My fancy did follow
A down the dim hollow,
And heard in the distance his hunger-hoimds bay ;
The vanishing spectre
Me left to conjecture.
As on the dark huntsman dim hurried away.
As one all astonished, or stunned by a blow.
Stands staggered or speechless with womlerment, so
\while I dwelt silent ; around all was still.
While wonder on wonder dumb wondered its fill ;
From fancy to fancy my spirit was tossed,
And reason at length was in reverie lost ;
And lost was all note and all measure of time
Until I awoke.
As one at the stroke
10 backwards-bellowed. Show ^ 34. Point out the aptness cf the
the%pro™ness of these words, language. (12. IV., 4.)
28. Adown. Note the form. (12,
33
35
40
IV., 28.)
21-22. Observe here and through-
out the poem the Onomatopoetic
character of the short lines, the object
generally being to indicate a quick-
ened or abrupt movement
^6 wonder— wondered. Explain.
(12, IV., 21 and jo.) its fill l>oes^
this phrase suit the general tone of
the selection ? (2, II.)
39. note, measure. Explain.
listener their full force. . r „ - ...ui, - i,im "
20 Pause after "thousand." 25-26. Connect " follow ^^^^\^ \^^v^^^
20. tausL.mci ,„,^nt " "^o " ".awhile" "around,' and both
34.-36. Pause alter •• wonderment, so, .i\.iuit:,
before and after "dumb."
:f i
h'"
ildi
90
. / /) VANCED RE A DER.
•. \ 1
It
j
\ \
!l
i ! '
j M (
Of the ivy-f^rown steeple's deep, solemn-toned chime.
I awoke, — yet I dreamed ;— it was nif^ht, and there fell
On my ear a sound sadder than numbers can tell ;
45 I listened; — it loudened, it ever did swell,
As when the choir-singers.
Or steeple-stood ringers,
Give voice, or stout pull at each iron-mouthed hell ;
Through night floated dreary
'50 A sad miserere:
I lay there and labored beneath the sound's spell,
Through night vainly gazing ;
The music amazing.
Appeared now of Earth, now of Hades, now Hell.
55 I gazed once again, and athrough the gray gloom.
Beheld the dark stranger.
All reckless of danger.
Sweep back like the tempest or fiercer L,imoom ;
Returning, I heard him slow wind a weird horn ;
60 Far o'er the wide dimness its echoes were borne,
Wound dirge-like and dismal
Through skyey abysmal.
Wherein hung the moon to a crescent down shorn ;
The blasts of his bugle grew wilder, more eerie,
65 While gaily he galloped, as one never weary,
Adown the dim valley, so doleful and dreary.
And woke the tired twilight with echoes forlorn.
Forlorn were the sounds, and their burden was drear
As the sighing of winds in the wane of the year —
42. deep — chime. Cf. 1. 34. | of Heavysege's genius is his ability
33-54, Compare the structure of to form suitable poetic compounds.
4O-48. As— bell. Show that this
sentence is condensed. (12, II., i, d.)
55. athrough. Cf. 1. 28.
Ci. Wound. F'arse.
66-69. See (12, III., 7.)
this stanza with thnt of 15-32. Note
that here the key to the* Harmony is
in the phrase "a sound — tell."
44. numbers. What ?
46. Observe that one of the marks
43. See note on 1. 16. Connect " fell" with "on my ear," 1. 44.
45. Pause after " listened." See also note on 1. 16.
49-50. Read slowly ; prolong the sound of " floated."
54. Pause after each " now."
HEAVYSECiE. ^
As the si.duuK of winds 'neath the s>.^eep of the gale,
Or howUng of spirits in regions of bale ;
The Goblin of Ruin
Black mischief was brewing ;
And, wringing her hands at her sudden undoing,
The woe-stncken landscape uplifted her wail.
As might the grim lion, of forests the ^^^^
Come bounding, or eagle sweep by on the ^Mng,
The eakde with scream and the lion with roai.
So swept the dark huntsman ; and, clnllec t<. the core,
I heard him still winding his slow, sullen horn,
Returning with dolefulest breathings of scorn :
Sr mo^.ings like those of the ^^^-^^^Z-^ ^^.,,,, ,
Sore swelled till with moanings was file the n ht
And changed to wild wailmgs that wilde, ye grc.v .
And fiercely at length the dread trumpeter bleu ,
Ml o-er the black welkin the howling ulast t les
'Vnd chases the stars from the tempest-strucK skies ,
\midst cloudy darkness strange not arose,
V ifillecl seemed the heavens with fighting of foes ,
f"! neath heaven's margent came fear-breedmg yells-
Came long lamentations with laughter in spells,
Vnd sounds wherewith madmen give vent to their woes .
Such noise as infuriate winds in tlieir flight
Give forth to the ear of the horrified night, ^
As through the looped Ruin the hurricane blows ,
Till ghastly the uproar, unearthly the blare.
The on-coming rider sure rode the nightmare ;
The winds seemed to moan,
The woods seemed to groan,
70
75
3o
85
90
95
72-73. Criticise the rhyme.
~1^^^^^^ the poet brings out in a
72-73. v.iiii>-.=v, .. J —- \ ^^.j^,-jcierfully sustained ettort the long,
74 her Note the anticipatory use ; ^j^ostly gallop of the huntsman,
of the pronoun. What is the objec- ; ^ Criticise and com-
tion to this construction? ipa'rewithl. 56.
74.75. Explain the meanmg. (12. : ^^^ __ ^.^^^^^^^ ^^..^
' 76.H . Note that by the length i and compare .Uh ,1. ..-nd ...
and Onomatopoetic character of this^
68-69. Slow time. (III.. 7) See also note on 1. lO.
98-99. See note on 1. 16.
J. "I
\ «
,1,1 1
?
' 1
#•'
. u
•til
il
IH i
J !
■■■ 1
h !
■
rj ^
■
!
■
. Hj .
1
92
ADVANCED READER.
loo And wildly were tossing their heads in the air —
A moment were dormant,
Then, lashed into torment.
Were franticly swinging their branches, leaf-bare ;
Till sighed I for silence : but, though came a lull —
I05 Though hearing was empty, the fancy was full :
As storm-stranded vessel
That lately did wrestle
With wind and with wave, but where nought now can nestle —
A grave, a golgotha, a place of a skull,
xio WHierein, full of dole,
Each mariner's soul
Still haunts his dead body that floats in the hull —
So lay I and dreamed, till, as forth from its rock,
Sea-beaten forever, the home of the flock,
115 Is heard the hoarse cry of the sweeping sea-gull.
Rewound the weird horn, and, oppressed with dumb awe.
Lights feeble and few in the distance I saw,
Even such as appear in the mist-covered skies
At breaking of morn,
I20 W'hen stars, lustre-lorn.
Are closing their heavy but fiery eyes ;
Huge hounds now loomed speeding, each fierce as a dragon ;
Like embers their eyes, their jaws foaming like flagon ;
Seemed Cerberus manifold hunting the stag on
I2S Hell's hills, flecked with shadows by distance shape-shorn ;
Deep toning these scoured o'er the dark, dewy grounds ;
The Ghosts of Gehenna seemed breaking their bounds ;
104-105. Cf. with 11. 72-73.
106- 1 13. As— dreamed. What in
the dreamer corresponds to the "ves-
sel " and the "mariner's soul"? saw?
109. grave. Parse.
113. till. Parse.
117. What were the "lights" he
Show the appropriatehjss of the
comparison. (12, IV., 9.)
124. Cerberus manifold. Explain.
Parse "Cerberus."
loi. Pause at "dormant," to indicate the idea expressed.
110-T13, Kead in a solemn, slow, deep tone.
124-125. Pause after "stag." Connect "on " with " Hell's hills."
HEAVYSEGE.
93
130
•35
140
145
And oft, as from Scylla's
Vexed kennel of billows, . , , 1
Sprang upwards the horror-tongned Hadean hounds ,
M^ore Toud than tornado outswelled the huge roar ;
The horrible hubbub could gather no more ;
The nack <doomy howling went close sweepnig by.
i n ;ght U.e loiul wlurlwind hoarse rave tiuough the sky ;
The-huntsman came after, full fleet as the wnul ;
Anent me a moment, tall, tarried behind ;
K>,Mr.irdin- me, sat with his long, levelled spear,
ourcmd, " Thou didst call me, and, lo ! 1 am here.
Tr.m, hoary and hollow-eyed, horsed in the gloom,
Appearing half-angel, half-demon of doom,
i knew-and the knowledge possessed me with fear-
He hunted for souls lieu of hunting for deer ;
He waved his pale hand, and hal -jeering did ci> .-
.^ Behold ! thou didst call me, and, lo ! here am I .
'Tis nigh unto midnight, and did 1 not say,
A thousand ere midnight my task was to slay .
Mount quickly behind me,—
Ha, ha ! thou shalt ftnd me
The hardest of riders, and rugged the way ;
Thy fate is to follow
\'Tp down von dim hollow , 1 .
Where! pleased at thy coming, my hun^-er-hounds l,ay ,
Thy terror dissemble,
For why should'st thou tremble
To go where the Ghosts of thy Fathers glide gray ?
With bit and with bridle
We may not be idle ; —
To the Land of the Shadmvs^om^th me away !
Q Tor. rf 11 72 and 7 V and 104! 139- hoary. I'arse.
X32. gather. Explain . I iSjf cSaJacter ofWth.
136. Parse ••tall" and note the dissemble. Is this word a
leculiar Elhpsis. ^=>
150
peculi
131. outswelled. See note on 1. 16.
150. Pause aiier -is," and connect
line.
,pt;
'follow" with "me" in the next
•II
V
!i|
^1
: i
1 i
94
ADVANCED READER.
The soul-hunting ranger
,60 Cried :— " Come with me, stranger ! "
And I the grim GobUn was bound to obey ;
An agony shook me,
All manhood forsook me,
I woke— "twas a dream at the dying of day.
t
; ;«
i I
SAUL \ND MALZAH.
From " Saul."
,„.„„„cTo„v.-.. s,u,, • Which i» '^^^^^^::r^ ':Sn:!
by the sweet sounds "f.^av id s music mt ^^^ ^,^.^_
atElah, Saul's growmg jealousy and indiaiveimi-^^^^^^ ^^^
breadth escapes and hnal ^''^^"^^1°/ ' of the wi ch of Endor. whose
the poem he i» indebted » the clemoo|og^°^;l'«^ ^^^^^^^ .. ^^_^
^^?r»7^ir;il\r£ Jd.^ VTaph^'theSf of .he ^vil spirit,, and Zepho
his servant. ^
Part II., Act I, Scene 2.
A sylvan country-y^^^^ seated, and Zepho standing near him.
ZEPHO.
What says my master to his servant ?
ZAPH.
Zepho,
The Jewish king now walks at large and sound ;
Yet of our emissary Malzah hear we nothmg :
160. stranger I Criticise use here.
Cf. also 11. 36. 9i.''nd97-
Name the metre of "Saul," and
scan 11. 4. 15. 20, 27, 33. and 39.
3. at large. Parse.
TfiT Pause after ■■ I." 164. Notice the change of voice required
; Zep^o Zapi: and MalJah use pure quality, and moderate time and
force.
HEAVYSEGE.
95
Go now, sweet spirit, and, if need be, seek
This world all over for him : -hnd him out,
Be he within tlie bounds of earth arid hell.
He is a most erratic spirit, so
May give thee trouble (as 1 give thee time)
To find him, for he may be now diminished.
And at the bottom of some silken flower,
Wherein, I know, he loves, when evening comes.
To creep, and lie all night, encanopied
Beneath the manifold and scented petals ;
Fancying, he says, he bids the world adieu,
And is again a slumberer in heaven :
Or, in some other vein, perchance thou'h f^nd hnn
Within the halls or dens of some famed city.
Give thou a general search, in open day,
r the town and country's ample field ; and next
Seek him in dusky cave, and in dim grot ;
And in the shadow of the precipice.
Prone or supine extended motionless ;
Or, in the twilight of o erhanging leaves,
Swung at the nodding arm of some vast beech.
By moonlight seek him on the mountain, and
At noon in the translucent waters salt or fresh ;
Or near the dank-marged fountain, or clear well,
W' atching the tadpole thrive on suck of venom ;
Or where the brook runs o'er the stones, and smooths
Their green locks with its current's crystal comb.
Seek him in rising vapors, and in clouds
Crimson or dun, and often on the edge
Of the gray morning and of tawny eve.
Search in the rocky alcove and woody bower ;
And in the crow's nest look, and every
• 5
so
as
3°
35
15. bids. Account for the tense.
16. again. Explain the reference.
21. dusky, dim. Distinguish.
23. Prone, supine. Distinguish.
^o-3T, Note the Imitative Har-
mony and the beauty of the Meta-
phor.
33-34. edge— eve. Explain. Criti-
cise " tawny."
36-38. What trait of Malzah's
character is shown here ?
8. Read the words in parenthesis in a lower pitch.
S i 1
■D i MiW} l i ii . i« , » W»J l »» i < W »»
•; s
96 A I) WINCED READER.
Pilfi;rim-crow(l-clra\vin{^' Idol, wherein he
Is wont to sit in darkness and be worsliipped.
If thou should'st lind liini not in these, search for him
40 By the lone, melancholy tarns of bitterns ;
And in the embosomed dells, whereunto maidens
Resort to bathe within the tepid pool.
Look specially there, and, if thou see'st peeping
Satyr or fawn, give chase and call out " Malzah,"
45 For he shall know thy voice and his own name.
ZEPHO.
Good ; if I catch 't not, no more call me swift.
4 ' 1
II.
Part II., Act 3, Scene 3.
Saul's bedchamber. Saul asleep upon a bed. Enter Malzah.
MALZAH.
He is now sleeping ; but his fervent brow
Is all meandered o'er by swollen veins.
Across his temple one appears nigh bursting.
He breathes, too, heavily, and a feeble moan
I hear within him ; showing that his soul
(Like to a child that's wept itself to sleep,)
Even in slumber doth retain its trouble.
I am loth again to rack him ; but I will.
For I am desperate to escape from slavery.
I will breathe hotly on his countenance,
And when he awakes, and doth cry out for water, —
Which I will make his servants slow in bringing, —
I'll enter him 'midst his vociferations.
And goad him back to madness
41. embosomed. Explain. 5. Is there any prosaic effect here ?
I. .Vcount for the spondaic struc- I 6, What object had the poet in
ture 01 the first hemistich. Scan 11. selecting a figure which awakens
14, 19, 21, 22, 31, 37, and 59. the pathetic feeling ?
I. Read in such a tone as a person would naturally use in soliloquy.
4. Pause after " too."
H RAWS I'd E-
97
SAIL.
Oh to hv iH-ut in 1r>11 ! 1 suftocale.
Ve;^vnuls that fn,n, tluM-c-a .juator scorch :>u..
Ana k-l the north blow on nu- nil I snn-cr.
Ah, for an avalanche of snow Wai^akcs
Vncl blind me: cover me up, dnfts; free/c trec/x.
Seize on me, blast, and hurl me mto wnUer.
15
20
MAL/AH.
Again I'll breathe on him.
[Bn'iitlu's upon him.
SAT I..
as
3^
1 1 f.m f>nrh with a iavehn,
Full threescore hends and ten, cacn \vun c j
H If.molten, and .luust through n,e from Kel.nul.
Chased me all up the burnu.K lane fron, hell.
S"h;r^:^"^r:^>"^p--^---'--^^
Now all of them back hissmg. ^Wnkiug.
Water! water!
What ho bring hither water ! Is there none
Toltch me p'' Jonathan, M.chael Merab ; where s
Ahinoam ? Gone ! Oh, ye are all
FnrLretful of me, and my children take
Thel ease and pastrme whUst the. father s dytng.
Some water, water !-Oh, to breathe upon
Carmel or Ararat ! Clouds, burst upon
My bosom, as upon their heads ye burst .
Pour on my head, ye waterspouts^ cataracts,
; of. ilUoersed. I'oint out the pe-
.3, Oh-in hell. Express as --\^^^^^^n.e oi il.is .or±
exclamatory sentence. CI. l. ^4-
15-41. Observe the frequent ex- | 3^. to breathe. Parse.
clamations. (12, IV., 15)
.5. Saul speaks in a tone expressrng ^--,^,S^;S '""''
shrill, and high. Guttural quahtv (^^J •;•
ai. Change to pure tone, .ith '""ff'^^^^^^^^^'^^^^j^^ •• Ah, here again!,"
,3. Very loud .and high^ Change ^^^^ ^^ ,3 " C.nne, .ater."
a. these words are not addressed to the same pc
eic .
35
II
■:
HI!
'I
i
SSIIiSSSSSBttKSWWSfB^^^
wmauBKSku
i I
0':
jIfP
Mi!
40
45
98 Ani'AA'CED READER.
Dasli down \\\\ tlnoal and turn me to an ocean. —
Ah, will there be no rain af,'ain, no dew ?
To the dank vineyard ! let nie fj;o and wallow,
Suck out, and trample out the freshness. Chained !
[W'ritlivs furiously to hnak the chu'nt.
MALZAH.
I'll enter him now — but not to do him evil —
But, out of ruth, to help him snap his chain
SAUL.
Creature, begone, nor harrow me with horror !
Thine eyes are stars ; oh, cover them, oh, wrap
Them up within thy cloudy brows : stand off.
Contend not with me, but say who thou art.
iMethinks 1 know thee, — yes, thou art my demon ;
Thou art the demon that torment 'st me.
I charge thee say, mysterious vis'tant,
At whose behest thou coniest, and for what
Offences deep of mine : nay, nay, stand ofif :
Confess, malicious goblin, or else leave me,
Leave me, oh goblin, till my hour is come :
ril meet thee after death ; appoint the place ;
On Gilead, or beside the flowing Jordan ;
Or, if parts gloomier suit thee, I'll repair
Down into Hinnom, or up to the top
Of Horeb in th' wilderness, or to the cloud-
go Concealed height of Sinai ascend,
Or dwell with thee 'midst darkness in the grave.
so
55
!i ;:! hi
u !-■ . n
III.
Part III., Act 6, Scene 7.
zaph's song.
Zepho, the sun's descended beam
Hath laid his rod on th' Ocean stream,
42-43. What is objectionable in the
use of " but " ?
43. What metrical effect have we
here?
Name the metre of Zaph's Song,
and scan 11. i and z.
1-2. the— stream. Explain fully.
To what does "his" refer?
iii-.AVYsr.oi:.
Ami this oerhanj^iiif^ wood-top nods
Like f,'olden helms of drowsy Kcnls.
Mfthinks that now 111 stretch for rest.
With eyelids sloping' towards the west;
That, tiu-ou-h their half transparencu^s,
The rosy radiance passed and stranied.
Of mote and vapor duly drained,
1 may believe, in hollow bliss,
1^1 y rest in the empyrean is.
Watch thou ; and, %vhen upcomes the moon.
Atowards her turn me ; an i then, boon,
Thyself compose, 'neath wavermg leaves
That hanf,' these branched, majestic eaves :
That so with self-imposed deceit,
Both, in this halcyon retreat.
By trance possessed, imagine may
We couch in Heaven's ni^dit-argent ray.
99
lo
„ ,-.f InnLniaL'e h.is this thought been
4. Show the appropriateness of l;';;W';,^J,,,,,a ,
the Sinule. ^^ ^j^^^^^, ^,^^, .,j,t,u'ss of "trance."
J5 '«oafli — eaves. In what
'neath — eaves.
iw.
We ray. 1-xpl^i" fully.
X. Classify " Saul " and " The Dark Huntsman "
2. What peculiarity of Heavysege's temperan.ent pervades
i'tonsf , , . r,,ii„,..inff heads- — I. Command
3. Discuss Heavysegex «y - ;'"<^„f 'TZ''^^^"' ' "«""««■ ••'"''
of metre for the p,tr,»»es "' 1>» 7"\,„4'„ „( ,le»cril>ti».>. IV. l^.vver
S'L';4SS/Tra;erer3"'r'td''c!rea't,. »n.. of ,«.ray,„„ imf— '
of'his study of Milton and Shakespe..re . ^^^^^ „ „, .. The
6. Which shows the greater degree of onr,inaiUN
Dark Huntsman " ? r*- = of tV,f> -luthor's style ? Refer
7. What are the chief emotional qualities of the author >
to marked examples.
COMrOSITlON.
T Reproduce " The Dark Huntsman " in prose^
2. Paraphrase from 1. 5 to 1. 45. extract I., of Saul.
i
I ■ !i
ill
t ii
ilhh
JOHN W. DAWSON, LT..D., F.R.S., F.G.S., C.M.G.
Principal and Vice-Chanccllor, McGill University, Montreal.
Biographical.— Dr. Dawson was born on the ijth of October, 1820, at
Pictou, Nova Scotia. Here he received his early education, subseqnently
spending a year at the University of Edinburgh, whence he graduated.
His fondness for Natural History showed itself when he was quite a boy,
5 and ■Ao enthusiastic and successful has been his pursuit of this branch
of s( ii-nc'^, that he is now considered the best authority on the. fossil
plants and animals of the oldest Rock Formations of North America. In
1842, and again in 1852, he accompanied Sir Charles Lyell in his explora-
tions in Nova Scotia, aiding him materially in his investigations. In com-
10 pany with this eminent geologist, he found the remains of the largest
reptile of the coal measures in the New World, and to himself alone is due
the discovery of the oldest fossil representatives of several classes of plants
and animals. But in 1865 he achieved his crowning distinction as a micro-
scopist an;: original i^ve^ilig:^lur, by naming and describing the " Cana-
15 dian Dawn Animal." Its organic nature was for a time a matter of grave
discussion, but most naturalists are now satisfied that it is a fossil of the
Laurentian Rocks, and the oldest recognized form of animal life.
i. I
DAWSOS.
lOI
,n ,S,Anr Dawson .na.lo a professional vi.i. lo th. o.p,vr muu.s of
-"•■'- •TV-:;:,:,:^'v:;,:;;:'rr;;;:;::i:>::;;":;;'--'v--
;" ho r, S„, . i..u.,,,U.m „f l-:.luca,i,.„ in Nova Sunia an.l on. "I l" "
piaunK ^ .„^.,, iiistorv he has done nuich for the cause of Scicnic
in 1870 to resiK.i I llniversitv in which capacity he
a;;; I'li iafl\,ence ha, .«e„ ..ore widely teU, or ot , we have
greater reason to be proud.
, ,. r^ 1 ^,sc=^• \ comnlete account of the RcoloKy 50
edition of the whoh> Nvork^ I'lls son displays a thorough knowledge 55
t^::^^,»».^4>!" C...a /'...■„,, , ,S03, : ... <.e,cripuve aecoun.
itp:::t;;;;=J^,=^!:-iSf7i^
tlfic Agriculture for Schools and Private Instruction (1604). A Hand book
m
102
ADVANCED READER.
\ 'A<
of Canadian Zoology (1870). The Story of Earth and Man (1873) : A re-
'65 production of Papers contributed to the Lihure Hour, and presenting
in a popular form the more important results of geological research.
Science and the Bible : Also a reproduction of a series of lectures delivered
at New York in the winter of 1874-1S75. The Dawn of Life (1S75) :
A history of the oldest known fossil remains— especially of the " Cana-
70 dian Dawn Animal "—and their relations to geological time and the de-
velopment of the animal kingdom. The ()ri<riii of the World (1S77) : A
modernized edition oi Arehaia. Fossil Men and their Modern Representatives
(187S) : We are here introduced to the people who inhabited the primitive
to^vn of Hochelaga when first visited by Cartier. Because a very primi-
75 tive state of things in .\merica has been rapidly displaced by the advance
of civilization, Dr. Dawson argues that comparatively rapid changes may
have taken place in historic Europe. The Change of Life in Geological
Time (1880) ; A sketch of the origin and succession of animals and plants.
Here the author presents in terms that are intelligible to the general reader
80 the ascertained facts in regard to the sequence of life, in opposition to the
modern theories of Darwin and his followers. In addition to the foregoing,
Dr. Dawson has made frequent contributions to The Proceedings of the
Royal Society of Edinbnrgh, The Proceedings and Journal of the Geological
Society of London, The Canadian Xaturalisf, and The American Journal
8b of Education.
Ckitic.m..— Among the leading scientific writers of the present day, Dr.
Dawson holds a conspicuous place, not merely for his original discoveries
and investigations, but for the religious and reverential spirit that pervades
his works. Besides being a form.idable and uncompromising opponent of
90 the Darwinian doctrine of Evolution, he has made it one of the objects of
his life to reconcile the apparent discrepancies between the residts of modern
science and the Mosaic account of the origin of the world. His position on
the questions that are now engaging the attention of scientific men cannot
be better described than in his own words. " Geology," he says, " must be
95 emancipated from the control of bald metaphysical speculations so rife in
our time, and above all it must be delivered from that materialistic infi-
delity which, by robbing Nature of its spiritual element, and of its presid-
ing Divinity, makes science dry, barren,' and repulsive, diminishes its
educational value, and even renders it less efficient for purposes of practical
100 research." As he finely expresses it, he is " one of those who retain their
faith in those unseen realities, of which the history of the earth itself is but
one of the shadows projected on the field of time." In his technical
treatises Dr. Dawson's method is exact and logical ; while in his popular
expositions he shows an eflbrtless mastery of a style which is singularly
105 lucid, considering the habit of his mind, and which now and then, when he
warms with a favorite topic, glows with impassioned imagery.
DA\VSO\.
103
THE LAUKENTIAN ROCKS.
From"TheSloryoflheKartha.ulMan."
ee s of water has been precuMta c I u n t h ^^^^^^^1 ^^^^j^. .^^^^ lonK n-lges
the earth as a universal oce.in. U l cr i ^j^^. ^^^ f^^ tho hrst
o bed of the waters has ^^^bsuled into is P^ae , .^^^.,1 land, while
ici^liVns to rave against ^he sh^^res of the n^^^ b^^ Us contribution
e rain: washing tlie bare ^J^'^^^'T'^^^.^.ters whence they were raised
f the slowly wasting rocks back into t e wait ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^,^..^,,,^
^ ;;l;h5 witi the •V^^^'^"^\r "t^eTa^^SmLJ sediments is, ai.l juav
sediments. Whether we know '^^ ^ 'i • >rv ancient rocks when
,u"vs be, uncertain ; but we do »<' "^^^^^^ *:!''" .^he hrst chapter of I.he
of the following selection.
1 n -f nf nil the rocks we are acquainted witl
DEEPEST at.d oldest of all the^^^^ ^^^^^^,^ ^^^^^^^ ,,,
in the crust of the ^arth a^e ce ^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^^^ ,^^,^^^^,^
metamorphosed, baked - ^^^ ^^ contauu.^^ no traces of
„.oisture--rocksot^ec.tU.d A.OU. ^^^ ^ ^^^^ ,^^^„^, ^
hfe, bnt for which 1 ^^;^^^. 'j'^'^.^s of the earliest known
. Eozotc," or those that ^f '^^^i^^, f Lamenttan Series of Sir
,,,., betngs. These -cks^ a e^^ L^- .^^^ ^ ^^^^^^ ,^^^,^ ,,
XVUhatn Logan, so named fn.m t h. ^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^
iii
L.TEKARV.-Namethechief classes
of rocks, and explain how they have
been formed.
N»me the chief rock tormalionj.
»;;?SS^ul"iS;h^^o^».
or " deepest.
Occasionally, throughout the sdec-
tion. the thoughts may be oxF^s -'
in still simpler language, and tnt,
plr^pLity Increased by aU.s o.m^
,l..v form of sentenced btrutinize
i:!ih sen^nce with this.poss.biluy in
' "2. crust. Give the full force.
..4 altered-moisture. Note that
herc^Dv. Dawson expresses the same
Jain three different forms, and that
he L'eneral expression precedes the
lISJ^'theoluLtoftherc^umancy
(I. V. I,) being t(J render clean r tie
meaning of the scientific terms. Note
, "tliat, throughout tin. se^^^^^^^^^
thescientihc terms are Renerall) to -
' owed by an explanatory wo d or
phrase. See 11.0-7. ■'l''^'^'>'^"-''^"'"«.^-
(iive reasons for beginning
this sentence with the predicate
I 0.10. ancient. Distinguish from
l"oUl." Cf. 1. i4_and 11. 27-2h.
i plain •• exposed."
Kx-
II
u
1
i i
I04
ADVANCED READER.
'
Other region. It may seem at first sight strange that any of
these ancient rocks should be found at the surface of the
earth ; but this is a necessary result of the mode of formation
of the continents. The oldest rocks, thrown up in places into
.5 high ridges, have either not been again brought under the
waters, or have lost by denudation the sediments once resting
on them ; and being of a hard and resisting nature, still re-
main, and often rise into hills of considerable elevation, show-
ing, as it were, portions of the skeleton of the ear'.h protruding
20 through its superficial covering. Such rocks stretch along the
north side of the St. Lawrence River from Labrador to Lake
Superior, and thence northwardly to an unknown distance,
constituting a wild and rugged district often rising in* '• Hs
4,000 feet high, and, in the deep gorge of the Saguenay, !■. : .:.;g
25 cliffs 1,500 feet in sheer height from the water's edge. South
of this great ridge, the isolated mass of the Adirondack Moun-
tains rises to the height of 6,000 feet, rivalling the newer,
though still very ancient, chain of the White Mountains.
Along the eastern coast of North America, a lower ridge of
30 Laurentian rock, only appearing here and there from under
the overlying sediments, is seen in Newfoundland, in New-
Brunswick, possibly in Nova Scotia, and perhaps farther south
in Massachusetts, and as far as Maryland. In the Old World,
rocks of this age do not, so far as known, appear so exten-
35 sively. They have been recognized in Norway and Sweden,
in the Hebrides, and in Bavaria, and may, no doubt, be }'et
discerned in other localities. Still, the grandest and most in-
structive development of these rocks is in North America ; and
it is there that we may best investigate their nature, and en-
40 deavor to restore the conditions in which they were deposited.
15. either. Criticise position.
20. superficial covering. What is
meant ?
20-60. Consult the map of North
America in connection with that on
p. 105.
30. only. Criticise position.
3J-35- I^ — extensively. Pi>int out
and account for the Ellipsis.
Ill,, I.)
(13.
37. Give the force of "discerned."
Still. Express, by a subordinate sen-
tence, the thought in this word.
39. Why is this not expressed
thus: — "and we may best investi-
gate their nature there"? (12, II.,
2,«.)
40. restore. Explain the scientific
meaning.
DAWSON.
105
The oldest .rinUles of the c^- oU^^^^^ f ^ l^ ^^
,on of great cycles o t^- -v^h Un,u o t^^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^_
formin, north-east and ^^-^-^^ \^ of Lauren-
east hnes. To such n.es ate tl^^ M^^t ^^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^
Han rock conformed as ma> ^- -^" ^^^^ ^^,^^^ .adit.ons.
of North America taken Irom Dana,
, .r T aurentian bek is evidently the nucleus of
The ,^reat angular Lau ^nt - ^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^ ^^ ^.^^^^^^
the contment, and .^°"^f ^ "\ .^^ i^^^es. The remahnng
exposures ate pat allel tot elevation. U is
ordinate coast-hne of co"iP'^i^a^i^ > constitute the oldest
known that these ^^'-;^^^'::XXZ^ any of the
'-rl^the'IharW^n : of t.,e n,ap were ..eposite,, h, the
I'Suta-e ocean "in thi^^d_P"Jt.o" hein« co.npo.e.l of „
"i ,-7 iS The — continent. Kxplaiu
vnrifv this statement by 47-4»- _* ""^ "-_.
41-44. \entv tms ^^ , ^^e fully. Lf. H. 5--.-)>
^-^^--'^P'-^t^'inr^l^^^i'- ? 4;,,!. The-elevation.^ See " s-
geugrapmc.l term, for N V., i,, above .nap. Ct. U. .y33.
44. exposures. See 11. 19 ^i""
1 !
io6
ADVANCED READER.
[%
ii. "I
yliii'
rocks of various geological ages resting on the older Laurentian.
It is further to be observed that the beds occurring in the
Laurentian bands are crumpled and folded in a most remark-
able manner, and that these folds were impressed upon them
6., before the deposition of the rocks next in geological age.
What, then, are these oldest rocks deposited by the sea— the
first-born of the reign of the waters ? They are very different
in their external aspect from the silt and mud, the sand and
gravel, and the shell and corul rocks of the modern sea, or of
65 the more recent geological formations. Yet the difference is
one in condition rather than composition. The members of
this ancient aristocracy of the rocks are made of the same clay
with their fellows, but have been subjected to a refining and
crystallizing process which has greatly changed their condition.
70 They have been, as geologists say, metamorphosed ; and are
to ordinary rocks what a china vase is to the lump of clay
from which it has been made
In North America these Laurentian rocks attain to an
enormous thickness. This has been estimated by Sir William
75 Logan at 30,000 feet, so that the beds would, if piled on each
other horizontally, be as high as the highest mountains on
earth. They appear to consist of two great series, the Lower
and Upper Laurentian. Even if we suppose that in the
earlier stages of the world's history erosion and deposition
80 were somewhat more rapid than at present, the formation of
such deposits, probably more widely spread than any that
succeeded them, nnist have required an enormous length of
time.
Geologists long looked in vain for evidences of life in the
8s Laurentian period ; but, just as astronomers have suspected
the existence of unknown planets from the perturbations due
to their attraction, geologists have guessed that there must
58. crumpled and folded. Why
both terms ?
59-60. these — age. How has this
been ascertained ?
63-64. from — sea. Account for this
arrangement of these pairs of words.
67-68. this — fellows. Explain the
Metaphor.
67-68. same— with. Criticise this
expression.
71. How is "china" manufac-
tured ?
75-76. would — be. Is this the best
possible order of the words ?
85-86. just — attraction. Illustrate.
DAWSON.
1(17
()0
95
„„,e „een son,e «v,„. t^in^s on ear h . .1^ '^^^
DanaanclS.evp'Hun.,especua.> V CO ^^^^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^
stated thus: (i.) '" >-"f] .,, „„„„„lation of slieUs, corals,
orRanic rock, produced b> the '>«'"' , t,,„,. „c
an';, similar calcareons °;«--'. ^ ^^ .^^strtutin^ regular
enormous limestones n, tire Laa.cntu .^
heds. (2.) m later f»"-"°" , f^^jX ^ arc large qnan-
substance derived Iron, vegetabl . -:^ '^^^ ,,„,,, ^ (3, ,„
,i„es of Laurentran c" »n . the Jo " ,^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^
later formations, deposits "f'™ ""„f „„a„ic matters as an
„ected w,th the deoxui./..nR '"« -^™^'^ ^ ,<;^ Lanrentian con- ,»
efficient cause of thetr »<="'""''•''';:•'""„„'. i„ layers in the
Xh:r^smr^:=^>^::— -,.
t iu which they a-,^"-",': !;:;S';'=„..ever, one vvell-
'" -""""" rr' Tl ht'rH t 1 r f^^und in the L n
„,arked am.nal foss.l has at !•;";'' Canadian Dawn Anin.al,
,ian of Canada, '--';" ^;-'^; "of, ,e "west fornrs of animal
a pgantic «P'^<^=«"»' ",° ,"' ' "„; „( nauring and describing ,..>
Ufe, whrch the wrtter ^^^^°^^ ^ „, ^,,1, auti-ptity ami
i„ ,865-.ts name ha unR rd ue c ^^^^^^^ ^^_^ ^^^^^^^^
possible connection with tie ' , ,„^„ f„,„^ of life
he modern seas, among ">« "" " ^ '\°\,| ,ich the animal
-"> which «l«y swarm occ 1 omc^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^ ^^^,^^^,^ ,_,
matter is a mere jelly, almost w ^^^^^ character,
vet uuqnestionahly endowed ^V' ' * "f^^ ,,ave the power of
Some of these creatures, the ' °-" ™ ^ ^^ ^^,,„,„U shell,
secretiu.t at the snrlace °f "^ °"f,„,„„„,„ieatin,! with
often divided into numerous '^■^"^^ ^ „,. „,;,-,,,,« ,.,
each other, and with the waje w, .,J ^^^^,^^^^
S^rr;:';:.:;:::! ^b:;^^.., w^n stretcbed out
1 „n, tiA Is the epithet "animal' ^ ^^
,5. Explain how coal has been ^i 4-^1, cf. ll ny-i^i-
formed. I . ^i.
iot.-io7. inferential eviderce. t x- ; ^^ ^,^ ^-^^^ each other,
plain. What kind of evidence is the , ^^^ ., ^^.j^j^ ^^^^^ another ?
"fossil"?
Whv
it
i
] ;
io8
. / 1) 1 'AXCED READER.
1 %
%
into the water, serve for arms and legs. In modern times
these creatures, though extremely abundant in the ocean, are
:.5 usually small, often microscopic ; but in a fossil state there
are others of somewhat larger size, though few ecjualhng the
Eozoon, which seems to have been a sessUe creature, restmg
on the bottom of the sea, and covering 'its gelatinous body
with a thin crust of carbonate of lime or limestone, adding to
,30 this, as it grew in size, crust after crust, attached to each
other by numerous partitions, and perforated with pores for
the emission of gelatinous filaments. This continued growth
of gel'itinous animal matter and carbonate of lime went on
from age to age, accumulating great beds of limestone, in some
.5- of which the entire form and most minute structures of the
"' creatine are preserved, wliile in other cases the organisms
have been broken up, and the limestones are a mere congeries
of their fragments, It is a remarkable instance of the perma-
nance of fossils, that in these ancient organisms the minutest
„o pores through which the semi-fluid matter of these humble
animals passed, have been preserved in the most delicate per-
fection. The existence of such creatures supposes that of
other organisms, probably microscopic plants, on which they
could feed. No traces of these have been observed, though
,45 the great quantity of carbon in the beds probably implies the
' existence of larger seaweeds. No other form of animal has
yet been distinctly recognized in the Laurentian limestones,
but there are fragments of calcareous matter which may have
belonged to organisms distinct from Eozoon. Of life on the
.50 Laurentian land we know nothing, unless the great beds of
iron ore already referred to may be taken as a proof of land
vegetation.
To an observer in the Laurentian period, the earth would
have presented an alnwst boundless ocean, its waters, per-
,-5 haps, still warmed with the internal heat, and sending up
' copious exhalations to be condensed in thick clouds and preci-
123-132. Break up this sentence
into short, simple ones.
145-146. quantity—seaweeds. Ex-
plain.
150-152. the great— vegetation.
Explain. . See 11. y7-io2.
153-157. To— rain. Express as a
subordinate clause the conditional
part of this sentence. DistinKUish
"with" and "by," as used in con-
nection with the' passive voice.
DAWSON.
109
•7^
IT .n,l there mi"ht he seen chains of rocky
pitated n. ram. Here and thcK ^^ . ^^^^.^^^ ,^i,i,, ^„,.
Islands, n.any o^'"" :::;S^ U;^ o -f which are unknown
U,ps clothed w.h ve^^etat otitic to ^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^^^^, _
to us. In the bottom of the ^^^ ^^^ ^ j, sonu.
.ravel were ben.g ^^^^^^^^^^^"^^^"^.^'Veat reefs of Eozoon
portions of the ocean floor, ^" "^'^^^^j; .^^j^ ^f ,,,« ean
Ure growin, up u. the --;;;;^; ;^^^,^ i^,slands and reefs
.,,a,nne the n.odern P^^^;^'; ^^; ; trms of lUe. we should ..
of coral, to be deprived ^^ ^ ^^^^^^^^ ^,^, i.,,oic time as it
Uave a somewhat ^^^f .^^'^^ ; ^.^ to us now ; for we do
appears to us now. 1 sas , as U ^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^.^
not know what new discoveries ^^^ .,^ ^,^^,
especially the immense deposits of ^-^ ^ ^ '^^^ ^^ i^^„, i,le
Jnrentian, -uld ^--o ^^;;^-^^^ of\io other
in the sea or on the land, o'^^J^ theLaeat coal formati.m.
period that —'^-^.^:^;^i: 'citation exists retain-
Perhaps no remnant of this F'"^; ; ^ ^^^^ter thin^^s.
,,, us form or ^^-^^-j^^^^^r f^^^nate discovery may
:;;;; :^:f;:trSr;r Vegetation of the I^
winch Iniilt up tlw: Ldurenti.ui u , (-.^ps ; uiul .a.
exist unchanged, save 'n<''"™^'°"';; f 'r"°ts we find he.b
here and there throughout '^e B- og.ca .c cs ^^^
of Foratniniferous hnrestone -" ■'' • '^''7' ^J Laurentian. It
Foraminifera compostng < «- °, ' ^ ,t oral au.mals nrore
•75
160-161. What idea, subsequentb
expressed, is emphasized b> the
repetition of the conjunctions .
160-163. In -coral. Point out the
redundaLy(-.V..x, ^)an^^^^^^^
ward repetitions in this sentence.
v» le tViU roi
•ard repetitions in this sentence. ^^.'^^s to avoid it.
.63-X67. If~now. ,ls this condi- ^. ^,
lyorbespeak. Give the ordinary
meaning.
171. both. Explain and criticise.
I -.1-17^ Point out the awkward
repetition in these lines, and re-write
16^-107. II — nuw. *- ,-,
.;.S sentence oroperly constructed^
Vs' ""should '• a" principal veru or an
auxiliary ?
(1,-1 *.v V- ■ —
174-175. Distinguish "hope" and
expectation."
•^ttmKaim.'amt''*
no
ADVANCED READER.
this respect, and the dre(l<fe reveals in the depths of our
modern oceans beds of calcareous matter which ma}- be
igo regarded as identical in origin with the limestones formed in
the period which is to us the dawn of organic life.
Many inquiries suggest themselves to the zoologist in con-
nection with the life of the Laurentian period. Was Eozoon
the first creature in which the wondrous forces of animal life
195 were manifested, wiien, in obedience to the Divine fiat, the
waters first " swarmed with swarmers," as the terse and ex-
pressive language of the Mosaic record phrases it ? If so, in
contemplating this organism v/e are in the presence of one
of the greatest of natural wonders — brought nearer than in
200 any other case to the actual workshop of the Almighty Maker.
Still we cannot affirm that other creatures even more humble
may not have preceded Eozoon, since such humble organisms
are known in the present world. Attempts have often been
made, and very recently have been renewed with much afifirma-
205 tion of success, to prove that such low forms of life may
originate spontaneously from their materials in the waters ;
but so far these attempts merely prove that the invisible germs
of the lower animals and plants exist everywhere, and that
they have marvellous powers of resisting extreme heat and
2IO other injurious influences. We need not, therefore, be sur-
prised if even lower forms than Eozoon may have preceded
that creature, or if some of these may be found, like the
organisms said to live in modern boiling springs, to have had
the power of existing even at a time when the ocean may
215 have been almost in a state of ebullition.
Another problem is that of means of subsistence for the
Eozoic Foraminifera. A similar problem exists in the case
of the modern ocean, in whose depths live multitudes of crea-
tures, where, so far as we know, vegetable matter, ordinarily
220 the basis of life, cannot exist in a living condition. It is prob-
able, however, from the researches of Sir Wyville Thompson,
that this is to be accounted for by the abundance of life at the
surface and in the shallower parts of the sea, and by the con-
gequent diffusion through the water of organic matter in an
204-205. affirmation of success. 220. basis of life. Explain.
Explain.
DAWSUX.
Ill
. .i.t,- \.ut vit sufficient to i.ouiisli ttitsc .=j
extremely tenuous sldte, hut > i case in tlie H../.oic
creatnies. Tlie same may have >c n -e c ^ ^_^_ _^_^
sea, uliere, Ju.lKin, '«"" ''-^ ^"•' " "^ ,° ,, „„„er, either
,|,ere must have heen »'>;''"''^'::;' X ,He surface ■, an,l
,row,n« a. the bottom or '""'; ' .' ^^ „„ „„.,, ,na.er,al, ,.
as the Eozoon h.nestones a.e usual! ec ^^^^^^ ^^^
«e may assume that the -«- "\ ,'„.., ,,an.l, as .le-
consume the veKelaWei«lmlum Ot ^ ^^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
tached speeimens of ^--^""^'^ ,'' -,,,,, ,„at,er was in
„e suppose that in some cases the vcfeU ^ ^
excess if the annual, and th,s "^y -^ a e - lo.ally too
Us too great exubeianee, or ^-^-"^J^X^^,,,,, t„ „<,urish.
shallow to permit the Lozoon a ml s,m , ■ ^^^ , ^ ,,„
These .letails we must for the l"""" ''' ',,„./|i„|„ .^s to the
the progress of discovery "-'>\«'^'^,,"1 ' te'' real and wide ....
nreciseconditionsof thebegmnmgofhfemhc „
: a wherein are moving 'h.ngs nmumer U a,^ ^^ ^^^^
„meh a wonder now as m the day t e ^^^^ ^^_ ^^^
■■ Hymn of Creation," m regaid to '1'^ '^ " ^ .( „„,, ,is
US breadth and ^'<=P<I'- ^-,,-;^ ,::; f ^,ft , ' hUle Jlse than ..
low and simple types, of which ^^^ " „^„( ,„,,u,ent on
that they move. The enormous accuiuUtions
he still thin crust of the earth ni «';';;,'■<> tie direc-
accumulations probably arranged ,n lies paMHe U ^^^^
Uons of disturbance »>-« ^l^^^^ i-^cbment to come ..
surface and caused 8^ J^^^^f^^ i„;„ior nucleus. Thus,
within the influence °' 'hV^end at length, the tension
extensive n^tainorphism^ook plac and atju^^^ ^^ ^^^^^^^,
becoming too great to be ^"^ '°' " , -,■ . j,),,,, the crust,
great collapse occurred cnimp nig and d^^^^^^^ ,^^^^^^ ^^^,,^ ^^^
and throwing up vast masses ol '»'- "^ . . „, ^on-
»•>' ■"- >t ^. r-Zl re7h eteli ^d ected to erosion
lirgtout^fuhe'S of ^ubseauent geological time.
^":r=:d":^r criticise .., ; v- ,s--- - '»-"'=^-
expression. g j^^g.^!^ ^,p this sentence
247- Why is there no comma be- 5^^^d^^_ ^.^^^^ ^^^^
tween " still " and " thm :•
. 1,1
112
.-IDl'.LVCJi/) REAPER.
HUM
1':
The l!:ozoic a',^e, '-.nose history we have thus shortly
2f,o sketched, is fertile i.i material of thoti«,dit for the ^'e()lo<,Mst and
the naturalist. Until the !;d)ors of Murchison, SeiUnvick, Hall,
and r.arra-ule. had developed the vast thickness and organic
richness of the Silurian and Cambrian rocks, no geologist had
any idea of the extent to which life had reached backward in
.r,5 time. Hut when this new and primitive world of Siluria was
unveiled, men felt assured that they had now at last reached
to the beginnings of life. . . .
The dawn of life seems to have been a very slow and pro-
tracted process, and it may have required as long a time
270 between the first appearance of Eozoon and the first of the
primordial Trilobites as between these and the advent of
Adam. Perhaps no lesson is more instructive than this as to
the length "of the working days of the Almighty. Another
lesson lies ready for us in these .^ame facts. Theoretically,
27, plants should have preceded animals, and this also is the
assertion of the first chapter of Genesis ; but the oldest fossil
certainly known to us is an animal. What if there were still
earlier plants, whose remains are still to be discovered ? For
my own part, I can see no reason to despair of the discovery
283 of an Eophytic period preceding the Eozoic; perhaps preceding
it through ages of duration to us almost inmieas arable, though
still within the possible time of the existence of the crust ot
the earth. It is even possible that in a warm and humid con-
dition of the atmosphere, before it had been caused " to rain
285 upon the earth," and when dense " mists ascended from the
earth and watered the whole surface of the ground," vegeta-
tion may have attained to a profusion and grandeur un-
equalled in the periods whose flora is known to us.
But while Eozoon thus preaches of progress and of develop-
250 ment, it has a tale to tell of unity and sameness. Just as
Eozoon lived in the Laurentian sea, and was preserved for us
S M''
259. shortly. Distinguish from : 285. and when. Show that "and
"briefly." Which is the better word does not here connect co-ordinate
to use here ? \ expressions.
275. Why, theoretically, should 289. preaches. Give full force,
plants have preceded animals ?
275. also. Criticise position.
290. unity and sameness.
tinguish.
Dis-
'^•k
/).4jrvS0.v,
113
bv the infiltration of its canals wUh s.hcrous nnne.al nau.. s
^ ,ts successors au.l representatives have ...ue on ihu.u,)
ai the a-es accumulating limestone ni the sea bottom 1 o-
ZyL; are as active as they were then, anc are h.n, ..
t^ilized in the same .ay. The E n^hsh eha k a.u the
chalky modern mud of the Atlant.c sea-bed are pr. us K
similar in origin to the Eozoic limestones. here .s . s.> a
s r n^^ paralkhsn, in the fact that n. the n.odern sea. -oia-
::;;;;S;a^can Uve under conditions of '^^nvatun, .^h.h and .-
vital air, and of enormous pressure, under which te n or^an
sm o. eater complexity could exist, and that m like .n.in.
Z i:ozoon could live in seas which were perhaps as yi
unfit for most other forms of life.
i,..t iiifrirtihe n this conntiCtiDii. I'l
Eozoon proves somowluit intrac ahlL
,1„. first nlace, tl.e creature is the grainiest ol h,s class,
rfon atd ;truc..,re; a,>d if, on .he hypo.hests of .env -
in, it has requircl the whole lapse ol «eol,)«.cal l.nic to
° „. IrteEo oo„ tnto the co.npara.tvely s„„ple F..va,BM,,.
e of"the ntodern seas, ,t ,nay have take,, as lo„K, p.o la W
: cl, lo„K.-r, .0 develop Eozoo,Oro,n -ch -m,>^e fo„ ..
antecedent P^r.ods. Tune fa^ for^.,d . __V.;;J--^^ A; ,„•
tt'ii: ^h^s": tt;'h:ve co„t„„.ed to .,« ..t,,.,,
isr-;hrtnti^:::.rra:ii^:^:i:;;-^^^
296. in the same way. How
305. h-Foraminifers Express
this without the impersonal form.
306. evolution. Explain. See note
on " Darwinism," U. 54-55> V- -■
309. in this connection. I'ara
phrase.
H
311-312. hypothesis of derivation.
What is the other name for this doc-
trine ? cf. 11. 315-317-
313. disintegrate. In what words
has the same idea been expressed in
the preceding context f
f t
Mr ^ i
114
APVANCKD READER.
,.5 between Eo/.oon an.l any of the animals <.f the succeecluiK
Prnnoiaial, which are nearly all essentially new types, vastly
more different from l<:ozoon than it is from many modern
creatures. Any snch connection is alto^'ether ima-,Mnary and
misupported Uv proof. Tin- laws of creation actually illus-
s3otrated bv this prnncval animal are only these: First, thai
there has been a prot,'ress in creation from few, low. and
.ameralized types oflife to more numerous, hi^dier, and more
specialized types; and secondly, that every type, low or hi^di.
was introilnccd at first in its best and hif^hest form, and was.
33s as a type, subject to def,a-neracy, <ind to partial or total re-
placement bv higher types subsequently introduced. 1 do
not mean thai we could learn all this from Eozoon alone; but
that, ri^ditly considered, it illustrates these laws, which we
gather IVom the subsefpient [)r()Kacss of the creative work. As
o to the mystery of the orij^'in of living' beings from dead matter,
^^° or any chan^^es which they may have undergone after their
creation, it is absolutely silent.
3^2-333. Explain clearly the terms
'gcneral'izetl" and "spL-ci.-Ji/.'-";
337. not. Criticist! position. What
is the principal proposition to 11.
to — types
Are the
here arranged correctly ?
ad>-ctives 33S-339." that -work.
^I'A. these laws. Why not "those
i laws " ? What laws are referred to ?
*.;.«
1, Classify the preceding selection.
2. Indicate the means used by Dr. Dawson to simplify his l'-^ng"age.
Criticise the structure of his sentences and paragraphs. (12, 11. and ill.)
3 Criticise the intellectual qualities of the style. (13, I )
4' To what extent has Dr. Dawson here used the leading arts of expo-
sition ? (3, in.)
Composition.
I. Write out the leading thought of each paragraph in " The Laurentian
II Reproduce the substance of the selection under the following heads :—
I The Laurentian Rocks— their character, mode of formation, and dis-
tribution II. The condition of the Earth during the Eozoic Period.
Ill Inferential and positive evidence as to the existence of life during this
Period IV. The Canadian Dawn Animal : its nature ; its means ot sub-
sistence ; a proof of unity and sameness in creation ; and tt^ relation to the
doctrine of Evolution. V, The Laws of Creation, illustrated by Eozoon.
S 5
LONGFELLOW.
the greatest, of V,-rican poets. --.»'-•; /'.^^f;^' ' ,, Hauthorno, at
iLwdoin College, vvhere, after three y^usuadm^ J .^^ ^^^.
.icath took place on the 24th of March, i8h2.
r., N'- (./ f rSir>\ ' \ voluine which included 10
A Psahn of Life, The Reaper and the / J;-;;;/;;^, ,,,,,,,,„ ,-, .4..„„,..
B,lla,i. and oUur Pocns (1842): Among them ;- ^^'^^ .^ ,,,:
r/.- Ka»0' /^«.. and Tke Village ^^^:;;;^'^^J^J^::\^, least valuable
lished in the same year, are now gen ra 1 re.ar ^^^^^. ^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^ ^^
of his works. The Span.sh Stnde,U {^^,^).J ^^ ^ ^,^^. ^^^,^,,,, aid not
of humor, a quality of j'^^^';^'^": Z^^ poeu.s and transla-
afterwa.ls -t-pt- J^'^; ^j/^^/ fj fj ..i:^^^^^ Efforts to introduce
tions. Evangeline (1847) • *Jne 01 u ^ ^^^.j,,^ „f
the dactylic hexameter into Enghsh ^^'^^^ ^d treatment than .0
productions that showed greater ongmaht) of subject
ii6
ADVA,\CED READER.
I .
» ■ . i
U:'!'
^:,. I
any of his previous works. Tlir Si-asiJi aini tin- Eiirsiil,' and Tin' (iuhku
Lciitiid (1831). Hiauuitlux (1855): One of Longfellow's most remarkabl.-
productions. Tlu- Courtship of Miles Standisli (1858) : A half-humorous
poem of the early colonial days. The Talis of a Waysidi' Iiiu : .\ series of
25 poetical narratives, the first of which appeared in i8()j, and the other two
at later dates. Tin- Ncu< England Tra^fdics (18G8) : Two stern and some-
what repellent dramas, having for their subject the New England religions
per.secutions, and forming the last of the author's poems on distinctively
American subjects. Between 1S67 and 1870 appeared the translation of
30 The Diriuc Comedy of Dante, on which Longfellow is said to have spent no
less than thirty years. It is remarkable for its fidelity to the original, but
it does not possess the ease and grace that characterize his other works.
The Divine Tragedy (1871) : A dramatic rendering of the Crucifi.xion. Most
of his other poems were contributed to various periodicals, the chief being
35 The Hanging of the Crane, a domestic idyll ; Moritnri Salutannis, a noble
and solemn-toned production; Floicer de Luce; Aftermath: Pandora:
Keramos ; and In the Harbor. Besides his poems, Longfellow was the
author of the following prose \vor\is:—Outre-Mer; or, Beyond Sea (1835) :
A collection of notes of travel, showing that refinement and taste which
4P afterwards became his leading characteristics. Hyperion (1839): .\n in-
teresting romance, glowing with quaint poetic thoui;ht and language.
Kavanagh (1849) : A short novel written in the idyllic style.
Critical. — Longfellow holds a high place amongst American poetn, and
" best deserves the name of artist." He is widely read by all classes of
45 English-speaking people ; some of his shorter pieces, such as Excelsior, The
Psalm of Life, The Village Black.unith, and The Ladder of St. Augustine,
being exceedingly popular. He was a man of high literary attainments,
well versed in the languages of modern Europe, and possessed of that
broad and genial sympathy with mankind that commends his writings to
5° the hearts of all. Partly owing, no dor.bt, to his practice in poetical
. -anslation, his language is copious, simple, and refined, and his versifica-
tion graceful, various, and melodious. Longfellow is a poet of " still life."
There is little or no evidence in his verse of glowing emotion, but his ten-
der pensiveness and wise and tasteful use of his materials lend a charm to
55 every page of his works ; and so wide are his sympathies that few human
emotions fail to find an echo therein. Although several of his subjects
are American, he cannot be said to possess an .\merican genius. He has
produced no work which might not have been written by an Englishman.
Of humor he shows few traces, but he is a master of simple pathos. The
60 characteristics of the age are reflected in his finished execution ; in his
selection of subjects connected with the past ; in the meditative character
of some of his later prod^ictions; and in nis love for picturesque nature, of
which he avails himself with fine effect as a setting for his thoughts. His
poems often embody or illustrate some moral truth, and their tone is
6s always pure and noble.
LOS01'ELI'(^^^'-
117
THK lASTlNti.
riom"Thi; Soiiu ot Hi.
,,ulin.
,„,onK the North ■■^"^^;'-'^-=^" ' ";\^,;:, ^ ri ers, forests, and t.sh.n,' Kroun.ls
who was sent amon^' ''''='"/"' Lice The author has also nUroaucea
ana to teach them '...e arts of l eace^ „ .^,j^^_ l^astin^ ■ is based ,
ther curious Inaiano^enas. ^^";'"';,.'^i\ \,,,. „ai/.e Mou.Ui-ni.n or the
for " the ()ajibwa-\\«on.luius, who ^-; ' / ;\,.,,i,,,, u.e stalk in full tassel
Sirit's ^rain or berry, have a prettN stor> •" ^ ;\, -^^ „f ., handsome
Kepr^i^uea as ^escenain, from the^sK> ^>n k the^^ ^^^^^ ..f virilitv, c,r
vouth, in answer to the pra^- of . ou",^^^^^^^^ ^,^^, ^^^, , ,f ,, c h . s
Conine to manhooa. i Ht. ^ouk u Suner or, gives an account
amonl'theOjibwayson the south shoe of L^^ ' ^^^ ^,^^ Nations
ot the life ana exploits "^ ^^X j ih -' Accor<lin« to some, it is an
the twentv sections mto v\h c 1 tnc l'\'.\, .yest-wina," or Nature. 1 he
est by Hiawatha of ^/"^J'''^"'-^^'^.' ,/^" .^esdv for a knowlea^e of the
S represents Hiawatlu^ as prav ng carn^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^. be something
Lst way " to proht the people, *orwnom , jjj fruits. In answer,
Mouaa-miu, a youth aescena ng ^ .> J h c ^^^^^^^ „ ^^^.^^ .^^ ^^^ ^,, ^
his object may be attained ^;>,^.^ "rj^./restling, Hiawatha succeeds in
of agriculture. Wearied -^^.^^'.^^^^hl-r words", after much hard labor,
putting Monda-min in the grave,
he sows his corn.
You shall hear lioxv Hiawatha
Prayed and fasted in the forest,
Not for greater skill in huntmg,
Not for greater craft in fishing,
Not for triumphs in the battle,
And renown among the warriors.
LiTERARV.-Describe the versifi-
cation. Scan 11. 1-8.
,.. Observe here and throughout
the 'poem the peculiar use of bpi-
zeuxis(i.,lV..:=o),generaVlyat he
beginning of consecutive lues com
bined with .Xpanthmesis (12 IV.
!(,). What effect on the st> Ic nas
this artifice ?
K.oct..,os.HV,_Thisselectionre.uir.spuj.;pia^
erate force. The time is faster than that cmplojca
I. Begin in a cheerful, lively tone _ „ ^^^^_^^„
3, ./. 9, and I j. Pause after "Not. Lut.
II
ii
.
I
i .
11^ AlWANCED READER.
But for profit of the people,
For advantajT^c of tlie nations.
First lie built a loilge for fasting,
1° Ijuilt a wigwam in the forest,
By the shining Big-Sea-W'ater,
In the blithe and pleasant Spring-time,
In the Moon of Leaves he built it.
And with dreams and visions many,
'5 Seven whole days and nights he fasted.
On the first clay of his fasting.
Through the leafy woods he wandered ;
Saw the deer start from the thicket,
Saw the rabbit in his burrow,
ao Heard the pheasant, Bena, drumming,
Heard the squirrel, Adjidaumo,
Rattling in his hoard of acorns,
Saw the pigeon, the Omeme,
Building nests among the pine-trees,
as ■ And in flocks the wild-goose, W'awa,
Flying to the fenlands northward.
Whirring, wailing far above him.
" Master of Life ! "' he cried, desponding,
" Must our lives depend on these things ? '
7-8. Observe here also another
peculiarity of the poem — the em-
phatic repetition of the thought in a
somewhat different form. Cf. 11. cj-
lo, 12-13, 4J--44. L'tc. What effect on
the style has this artifice ? Distin-
guish between " profit " and "advan-
tage," and "people" and "nations."
Does the author intend to differen-
tiate these ?
13. Moon of Leaves. What char-
acteristic of the Indian mode of
thought do such names indicate ?
Coleridge speaks of " the leafy
month of June. ' Account for the
difference.
; 1 5. Why is the first foot of a spon-
daic character ? (u, IV., 4.)
20-25. Note here another marked
peculiarity of the poem — the use of
the English name in immediate con-
nection with its Indian e(]ui\alent.
What effect has this on the style !>
Note also the author's lo\'e for Na-
ture.
2O-27. What poetic ornament is
there here? Note that this is of
frequent occurrence in the poem.
2S-2<}. Master — things? What in
the development of the human race
may be symbolized by this question
of Hiawatha's ? Scan 1. 28.
15. Read slowly. 17. (III., 8, 6.) 20. See (III., S, ^r.)
20. drumming, and 27. Whirring, wailing. See "The Dark Hunts-
man," page Sij, 1. 16.
28-29, 40-41. Read in a tone expressive of despondency and sorrow.
LOSGFliLI'O^^'
119
On tiie next day of his fasUng
By the rivers brink he wandered,
Through the Muskoday, the meadow,
Saw the ,/ild-rice, Mahnonionee,
Saw the bhieberry. Meenahga,
And the strawberry. Odahniui.
And the gooseberry, Sliahbonun,
And the grape-vine, the Bemahgut,
Traihng o'er the elder-branches,
FiUing all the air with fragrance !
- Master of Life ! " he cried, despondu.g,
- Must our lives depend on these tlungs .
On the third day of his fastnig
By the lake he sat and pondered,
By the still, transparent water;
Saw the sturgeon, Nahma. leapuig,
Scattering drops hke beads of wan.pum ;
Saw the yellow perch, the Sahwa,
Like a sunbeam in the water.
Saw the pike, the Maskenozha.
And the herring. Okahahwis.
And the Shawgashee, the craw-hsh
" Master of Life ! " he cried, desponding.
" Must our lives depend on these thnigs .
On the fourth day of his fastuig.
In his lodge he lay exhausted ;
From his couch of leaves and branches
Gazing with half-open eyelids.
Full of shadowy dreams and visions,
30
35
40
45
30
55
3.,. cu.. 0.3. scan ,M.3. :;*;;-. -v--pp°-'''''»
4,. Cf. with this line U. i7..-vna.y.'-
Wliv is he represented as be.n^ eacli | ^ Like -water. Observe t c
dav'cUHerentlv employed ? , aptness and poetic beauty ot this
46. like -wampum. Note that ; figure,
throughout the poein the huniles are ; ^^^^^^ ^^^^^
appropriately taken from ^jres 1 le I >-- .3-^ ^^^^^^^^ ^^
and other sources with wiucn uic , .t.v-^
ill!, 17 43. UUCT'pondeml slowly, j.,. 1 allbt alte. i. )
1}
120
6o
6S
70
75
80
ADVANCED READER.
On the dizzy, swimming landscape,
On the gloaming of tlie water.
On the splendor of the snnset.
And he saw a _vouth approaching,
Dressed in garments green and yellow,
Coming through the purple twilight.
Through the splendor of the sunset ;
Plumes of green bent o'er his forehead,
And his hair was soft and golden.
Standing at the open doorway,
Long he looketl at Hiawatha,
Looked with pity and compassion
On his wasted form and features,
And, in accents like the sighing
Ot the South-Wind in the tree-tops.
Said he, " O my Hiawatha !
All 3our prayers are heard in heaven.
For you pra\- not like the others.
Not for greater skill in hunting,
Not for greater craft in fishing,
Not for triumph in the battle.
Nor renown among the warriors,
I>ut for profit of the people.
For advantage of the nations.
" From the Master of Life descending,
L the friend of man, Mondamin,
5') dizzy. Note the Transferred
Hpitlict. (ij.IV., 17.) SecaIso(i2,
I\'., 4.) Hxplain " swininiing,"
<.j-()7. What is hen- represented ?
What may be symbolized by Mon-
damin's coining at sunset ?
<'5. C'f. 11. Or, 9j, 100, I J4, and 22^-
2J(). Observe tliroiij,'hoiu the poem
the fre(iuent complete or partial re-
petition of phrases, sentences, and
descriptions, which, however, does
j not become monotonous, owing to the
beauty of the language and figures,
and the variety and freshness of the
epithets. For effect produced cf
remarks on 11. 7O-S2,
70. pity, compassion. Distin-
guish. Cf. 11. 7-8.
7b-S2. Cf. 11. 3-8 and 65. The
simplicity appropriate to the charac-
ter of the poem is secured by such
repetitions.
69. Pause after •' Long." 74. See 11. 7,-73, and read in a gentle tone.
70. I ause after " pray " and " not," and contrast " vou " and "others "
77-«2. Observe the contrasted groups of words.
83. Pause after "Life." 84. (III., s, ^r.)
u)X(iri:LiA>^y.
121
90
95
100
Come to warn you aiul instruct you, ^s
How by stnif^f^le ami by labor
Vou shall f^ain what you have prayed for.
Rise up from your bcii of l<rani lu-s.
Rise, O youtli, and wresil- with me!"
Faint witli famine, Hiawatha
Started from his bed of branches,
From tlie twilikdit of his wigwam
Forth into the flush oi smiset
Came, and wrestled with Mondamin ;
At his touch he felt nvw courage
Throbbing in his brain and bosom.
Felt new life and hope and vigor
Run through every nerve and hbre.
So they wrestled there together
In the glory of the sunset,
And the more they strove and struggled,
Stronger still grew Hiawatha ;
Till the darkness fell around them.
And the Heron, the Shuh-shidi-gah,
From her haunts among the fenlands,
Gave a cry of lamentation.
Gave a scream of pain and famine.
" Tis enough ! " hen said Mondamm,
Smiling upon Hiawatha,
" But to-morrow, when the sun sets,
I will come again to try you.
And he vanished, and was seen not ;
Whether silking as the rain sinks.
Whether ris . g as the nnsts ri .t.
Hiawatha saw not, knew not.
Only saw that he had vanished,
86-8.) What is here symbolized ^ ' 97-9^. What figures? Whatoffe. =.
See introductory notice, p, 117. N-te ,o4-.o7. Cf. U, mO-hS, .^.^-i'J>
that the AlU>Kory throughout is only and ^4'-:44 ^^^^ •'^'^" " '""' ^•
loosely applied. I 1,^-114. Note the Anaphora com-
95.y8. What may this symbolize ? ' bined w;th E pizeux.s.
94. Prolonged pause after " Catne. ' ^O-jS. Head in an animated ton.
105
no
115
122
AD VANCi: n HE A OER
ftif-
130
«3o
«35
140
«t5
Leaving hnn alone and f unting,
With tiie misty lake Itelow him,
And the n < Jing stars ai)ove him.
On the mnrro^'>• and fhe next day.
Whr!n the sun tlitvOUKh heaven desccmliiig,
Like a red and ban uif^ cinder
From the hearth of the Ore,' Spirit,
Fell into the western waters,
Came Mondamin for the trial.
For the strife with Hiawatha ;
Came as silent as the dew comes
From the empty air a}>pearing.
Into empty air retunn.ng.
Taking shape when eanh it touches.
But invisible to all men
In its coming and its gon,g.
Thrice they wrestled there together,
In the glory of the sunsei,
Till the darkness fell around them,
Till the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
From h.er haunts among the fenlands,
Uttered her loud cry of famine.
And Mondamin paused to listen.
Tall and beautiful he stood there,
In his garments green and yellow :
To and fro his ])lumes above him
\\'aved atid nodded with his breathing.
And the sweat of the encounter
Stood like drops of dew upon him.
And he cried, " O H atha !
Bravely have you wre with me.
Thrice have wre^^-d ,utly with me.
no reeling. Kxplain, am 1
to a similar expression in tli*
ceding context.
i-'7-ij2. Cf, 11. 113-114
.21-124. Cf- 1 46.
130. Pause after "earth." Wh.. ..Uer'if?
M"-'45- Head in a tone expressing admiration.
i4C'-i50. O Hiawatha I etc. Use loud force, and high pitch
LOSG FELLOW
123
Ami the Master of Life, who sees us.
He will K'ive to you the truunph ;
Then he smiled, ami saul : " To.norrow
Is the last day of your conllict,
Is the last day of your fastuiii.
You will conquer and oerconie nie ;
Make a bed for me to lie in,
\Vhere the rain may fall upon me,
Where the sun nuxy come and warm me :
Strip these garments, green and yellow.
Strip this nodding plumage from me,
Lav me in the earth, and make it
Soft and loose and light above me
i. Let no hand disturb my slumber.
Let no weed nor worm molest me,
Let not Kahgahgee, the raven.
Come to haunt me and molest me.
Only come yourself to watch me,
Till I wake, and start, and quicken,
Till I leap into the sunshine.
And thus saying, he departed ;
Peacefully slept Hiawatha,
Hut he heard the Wawonaissa,
Heard the whippoorwiU complammg,
Perched upon his lonely wigwam ;
Heard the rushing Sebowisha,
Heard the rivulet rippling near him,
Talking to the darksome fores^^
150
«55
160
165
170
«75
i.i-iGi. What peculiarities of the !
poem already pointed out are here ■
exemplified ?
154. Distinguish between "con-
quer" and "oercome."
163. nor. Criticise use.
16G. Only. Is this word properly
placed ?
^ ^-. ntr Use gentler force and lower pitch.
151.161, To-morrow, etc. use genu , .^ ^ .. ..i,,„He, • -li^ht "
:-;:^ rr^ris^r;^:; jr :^^.-^< -—
precedfng. 1O9. Change to narrat.ve, pure tone.
,f,7-if.8. For form, cf. U. '.)7-y«-
170. Peacefully. Why so ^
i-^:;-iSi What poetic effects are
the^e here' Note the 'Mn'ropnate
beauty of the P^^f^^R'; * . ure
Note the author's love for Nature.
124
ADVANCED READER.
1.-
!i) '
i8o
185
ryo
195
205
2IO
Heard the si<,'hinj,' of the branches,
As they lifted and subsided
At the passing,' of the ni;,dit-\vind,
Heard tliem, as one hears in shnnber
Far-off murmurs, dreamy whispers:
Peacefully slept Hiawatha.
On the morrow came Nokomis,
On the seventh day of his fasting,
Came with food for Hiawatha,
Came imploring and bewailing.
Lest his hunger should o'ercome him,
Lest his fasting should be fatal.
But he tasted not, and touched not,
Only said to her, " Nokomis,
Wait until the sun is setting.
Till the darkness falls around us,
Till the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
Crying from the desolate marshes,
Tells us that the day is ended."
^ Homeward weeping weut Nokomis,
Sorrowing for her Hiawatha,
Fearing lest his strength should fail him.
Lest his fasting shoidd be fatal.
He meanwhile sat weary waiting
For the coming of Mondamin,
Till the shadows, pointing eastward,
Lengthened over field and forest.
Till the sun dropped from the heaven.
Floating on the waters westward.
As a red leaf in the Autumn
Falls and floats upon the water.
Falls and sinks into its bosom.
And behold ! the young Mondamin,
With his soft and shming tresses,
183-199. Note the heightened in-
terest produced by Nokoinis's visit.
204-208. E.xplain the application
of the Simile. Cf. 11. 121-124.
177-181. Sighing, lifted, subsided, murmurs, whispers. See note, 1 27
210. See note, 11. 140-145.
315
330
935
With his K'anneiUs u^^vci^ and yellc^.v,
With his loii^' iuul ^'lossy pluinaj^'c.
Stood and beckoned at the doorway.
And as one in shnnber walUnig,
Pale and haj^K^r^l' ^^"^ undaunted,
From the wi^nvani Hiawatha
Came and wrestled with Mondanun.
Round about him spun the hmdscape,
Sky and forest reeled t<.Kt-lli<-'r,
And his stron- heart leaped with.n hnn.
As the sturf^eon leaps and stru^'^'l^^^
In a net to break its meshes.
Like a rin^' of hre around hnn
Blazed antl tlared the red hori/.on.
And a hundred suns seemed lookm-
At the combat of the wresti.rs.
Suddenly upon the greenswa-d
AH alone stood Hi.iwatha,
Panting' with his wild exertion,
Palpitating' with the stru^^gle ;
And before him, breathless, M^^^f-"^
Lay the youth, witli hair dishevelled
Plumaf,'e torn, and f^arments tattered.
Dead he lay there in the sunset.
And victorious Hiawatha
Made the grave as he <^^^''' "^"^^"^.^
Stripped the garments <r. u ..ondan.
Stripped his tattered plumage from Inm,
Laid him in the earth, and made it
Soft and loose and light above hnn ;
And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
From the melancholy^oorlands,
TT ' „n Whv has "his strong heart
..7...6. Point out the poenc beau- J^ Why. ^ ^ ._^^ „ ^
ties of this paraKraph (i a. i v ., a | i symbolized ?
7,9.and.:).(7).ancM:3.ni) | ^4^;tee(i.. IV..4 and n.) and (7).
330
235
340
.J r Pause after "but." (lU. 6, f.)
;ao-..26"Read in fast time, and in an animated tone.
22S. Ea.^jhasize" All alone."
ti
Liim
.11
IL
p
T
^ i&ibii ( .1
■
m^i-"
1
i
1
?1
1
r
1
i;
!'
126 Anr.tXCEP HEADER.
Gave a cry of lamentation,
Gave a cry of pain and anf,niisli !
245 Hi.)Un.v, .wU then went Hiawatha
To the lodfre of old Nokomis,
And the seven chiys of his fastinf^
Were accomphshed and completed.
But the place was not forj^otten
250 Where he wrestled with Mondamin ;
Nor for;^a)tten nor nej^dccted
Was the j^aave where lay Mondamin,
Sleepinj^ in the rain and sunshine,
Where his scattered plumes ami garments
255 Fatl' (1 in the rain and sunshine.
Day by day did Hi.iwat!
Go to wait and watch beside it ;
K- pt the dark mould soft above it,
Kept it clean from weeds and insects,
a6o Drove away, with scoffs and shoutings,
Kahgahgee, the king of ravens
Till at lenj.'th a small green feather
Fron' the earth shot slowly upward,
Then anothei and another,
965 And before the Summer ended
Stood the maize in all its beauty.
With lis shining rcjbes about it.
And its long, soft, yel)*.,' tresses ;
And ir. iapture Hiawatha
270 f 'ed aloud " It is Mondannn !
^ , t friend of man, Mondamin ! "
rht 11 lie called to old Nokomis
And lagoo, the great master,
Showed them where the m ize was growing,
875 Told them of his wondrous vision.
Of his wrestling and his triumph,
247. seven — fasting. Explain. I 1. 168. Account for i he difference in
See Introductory notice, p. 117. ! these descriptions. Observe the di^-
j similarity of the moods of Mondamin
iiiS- shotslowly. Cf. with "leap, " i and Hiawatha.
270. It is Mondamin I etc. Loud force and high pitch.
of tliis new «ift lo ilu' ii.itions,
Which slumUllu' their UkmI for tv.,.
And still later, wlu-n tin- Antmnu
rhan^'.d the Ic.n-, ^'rcen leaves lo yellow,
Ami the soft and jukv kernels
(irew like Nvanipum hard and yrllow.
Then the ripened ears he feathered
StrnuH-d the withered hnsks horn oil thuu,
As he once had stripped Ih' ^vrestler.
Gave the first Feast of Mondannn,
And made known nnto the people
Thisnew^jiftofth.C.reatSp.nt.
alo
285
KING KOBHKT Ol' SKUA'
ITon. "Talcs ot .1 Way^i'li' >""•"
KoB.KT of Sicily, Inother of Pop- l-'lKU^-'
And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine,
Apparelled in ma^niihcent attire,
With retinue of manv a kni^dit and squire
On St. lohn-s Hve, at vespers, proudly sat
And lu.ird uie pr.. .s chant the Ma.n.hcat.
And,ashelisinca,o-erandoeraf,'am
Repeated, like a imrden or refrain
He caught the words, " Dcpo.,nt potcnUs
Dc sc<k,ctt'XiiUavH huniiks ;
Robert of Sicily." Scan 11. i- 10. para^r i
1-4 Why are the King's dignity , ^ Repeated. IMrse. burden, re-
and state dwelt on here ? I frain. Distinguisii
1-22. What characteristics of the 1
•-'"'•.Csc *r'1^e„e.,. .0 e,,,re» ...My .he ..,ea c„„ve,«.>.
<j.io. Chant the Latin words.
n
I
it!'
'if;
II
II! ■ "
I .
, I
mV\
ijM-
h'
« !
I 'I '
.! I
I'M
•1
J !
I2H
35
.•l/)r.lAT/i:D NlADr.R
«' answer meet.
And slowly liftin.Lj up his kin^^^h' head,
He to a learned clerk heside him said.
" What mean these words ? " The clerk mad
" He has put down the mif,dity from their seat,
15 Anil has exalted them (jf low dej,Mee."
Thereat Kins,^ Robert muttered scornfully,
" "Tis well that such seditious words are suii^'
Only by priests and in the Latin tonj^nie ;
I'^or unto priests and people he it known.
ao There is no jmwer can push me from my throne ! "
And leauin<,' hack, he yawned and fell asleep.
Lulletl 1)\ the chant monotonous atul deeji.
When he awoke, it was already ni/^dit ;
The church was empty, and there was no lif,dit,
as Save where the lamps, that ,t,dimmered few and faint,
Lij;hte(.l a little space before some saint.
He started from his seat and <(azed around,
J^ut saw no livinj,' thing and heard no sound.
He j,'roped towards the door, but it was locked ;
30 He cried aloud, and listened, and then knocked,
And uttered awful threateninf,^s and complaints,
And imprecations upon men and saints.
The sounds re-echoeil from the roof and walls
As if dead priests were lauj^diing in their stalls !
At length the sexton, hearing from without
The tmiiult of the knocking and the sliout,
And thinking thieves were in the house of prayer.
Came with his lantern, asking, " Who is there?"
12-13, Explain " learned clerk," and "meet."
13-14. Change the t( .e from narrative to that which the King would
use in asking the question, and then to that which the clerk would use in
answering him.
17-20. Read according to the description in 1. 16. Emphasize " me."
24. Rising inflectiuii om "liglit."
27. Fast time and a tone expr ssing fear.
30. aloud. Raise the voice. Pause after " aloud, ' " listened."
38 •• Who is there ? " Very loud.
LOSGFKLLOW
l^<»
Halt-choked Willi i
Kiiij; Kolicit litn rly s.ml
0\
)(.'!) ;
'tis 1. llif KiuL'! Art thou .ilr. nd
TIr' frij,'litriu'(l scMiui. mlltlt•^m.l,^ wiili a < iirsc
••This is some (hiinUni va-^Mhond. or woisrl"'
'riiriK'i
A man ru
lla
K'k'iU'
1 the <;ri":it key and IIiuilj the portal wk
du'd by him at a sin;,dr stridf.
1. iialf-naki'd. without h.il or cloak,
Who ncitlicr lurncd, nor looktMJ at him. nor spok
Hi
It IcaiH'd into the Mackncss of the in,i;lil,
And vanished like a spectre trom Ins si.udit.
Robert of Sicily, brother of Tope I'rbane
And V'almond, ICmperor of AUemaine,
l^csnoiled of his ma<,Mnticenl attire.
iJa
spoiled ol nis nia^uun-um .nun
redieaded, breathless, and besprent with mu
With sense of wronj,^ and ontra-,'e disperate.
Strode on and thundered at the palace-;ate;
Rushed throu-,di the court-yard, thrust in- in his ra^i'
To ri'dil and left ea(di seneschal and paj;e,
And hurried up the broad and sounding' stair
His white face K'liastly in the torches" ^dare.
r
rom
oices
hall to hall he passed with breathless spe
and cries he heard, but diil not heed,
::ea
Until at last he reaclu-d tlu> baiuiuet-room,
lMazin<r wi
th liLrht, and brealhin,',' with perfume
There on the dais sat another kinf(,
Wearint,^ his robes, his crown, his si<;net-rin-,s
Kin^ Robert's self in features, form, and heif^ht,
But all transti^nired with an<,'elir lij;ht !
It was an Angel; and Ins presence tliere
With a divine efTul^'ence filled the air.
49-5 1 Why is the King's greatness
again referred to ?
5j. desperate. Parse.
55. OlisLTve the initial trochaic
foot. (iJ, IV., 4) and (ij. III., 2.)
()i. perfume
nunciaiioii.
4'
45
5"
M
65
Comment on pvo-
64. his. Why repealled ' (i.
II, and 20.)
IV.,
40. Angry, commanding tone. Pause after " I."
44-60. Fast time. (HI, 4.) 53. Pause after " outrage."
G3-66. Use a tone expressing surprise.
Emphasize " his," 1. 64. 67. It— Angel Which word is emphatic '!
KV
ADVANCEf) READER.
An cNalt.ition, pierciiif,' llie dis^aiise
70 ThouL^i none the hidden Anwl recognise.
iU
lit
'I i.
A ninmont speechless, motionless, amazed.
The ihroneless monarch on the Anj^^el ^^azed.
Who met his looks of anj^^er and surprise
With the divine compassion of his eyes;
75 Then said, " Who art thou ? and why com'st thou here?"
To which Kinf,f Robert answered, with a sneer,
" i am the Kin,i(, and come to claim my own
From an impostor, who usurps my throne!"
And suddenly, at these audacious words,
80 Up spranj? the an<;ry fjfuests, and drew their swords;
The Anjjjel answered, with unrufrted brow,
"Nay, not the Kin<,', 1)Ut the Kin.t^'s Jester; thou
Henceforth shall wear the bells and scalloped cape,
And for thy counsellor shalt lead an ape ;
8; Thou shalt obey my servants when they ca'J,
A.nd wait upon my henchman in the hall!'"
Deaf to KiWfi; Robert's threats and cries aid prayers,
They thrust him from the hall and down the stairs;
A {,'roup of tittering,' pages ran before,
go Ami as they opimec' wide the foldinj^-door,
His heart failed, for he heard, with stranj^e alarms,
The boisterous lau-,diter of his men-at-arms,
And all the vaulted chamber roar and rinj^
With the mock plaudits of " Lon;^^ live tiie Kinj,'! "
95 Next mornin<j^, wakin<,f with the day's tu'st beam.
He said within himself, " It was a dream!"
69. exaltation. Explain. I'arse
piercing'." (i-;, IV'., 7.)
71. Who.t fiK'ure ? Kxpl.iin the
effect, (i^, IV., 4 and n.)
71. Pause after each adjeciive.
75, 77. Observe the differenn' bet-.veen the gentle tone of the Angel, and
the sneering tone of King Kohert.
80. Pause after " Up," (III., 4.) 82. Emphasize " King" and "Jester."
94. "Long live the King : Loud, mocking tone.
</). dream! I-mphatic.
i'lf
LONGl'l-LLOW
•31
r.nl thr straw nistliHl as \\v turiud liis head,
riurc WL'if the cap and bells beside' his bid,
Around him rose the bare, discoloured walls.
Close by. tlie steeds were champin-,' in their stalls.
And in the corner, a revoltui^ shape,
Shivering' and chattering' sat the wretched ape.
ll was no dream; the world he loved so much
Had turned to dust and ashes at his to\ich!
Days came and went; and now returned a-ani
To Sicily the old Satmnian reif^ni ;
I'nder the Anj^'el's governance benign
The happv island danced with corn and wine,
And deep within the mountain's buruin<j: breast
ICnceladus, the L^iant, was at rest.
Meanwhile Kin-j; Robert yielded to his iate.
Sullen and silent and disconsolate.
Dressed in the motley f;arb tiiat Jesters wear,
With looks bewildered and a vacant stare,
Close shaven above the ears, as monks are shorn.
By courtiers mocked, by paj^'es laughed to scorn,
His only friend his ape. the only food
What others left,— he still was unsubdued.
And when the Anj^el met him on his wa> ,
And half in earnest, half in jest, would say
105
"5
f)8. Scan the
■There."
lino, and parse
106. old Satunrian reign. Ex-
plain fully the application.
r^\ .» „o^.,iu.iwm loS. Rewrite in prose, brinninj; out
08-10.. Observe the parallehMn ^,^^ f^,,, .,f ..aaneed and-with.'
of structure, (12,111,-'.) ,.,,,. > 1 / *
112. See (i->, I\ ., 10 ) and (7).
II 5-1 iS What kind (f sentence is
tl"' this, and whv is it uscl here' (u,
(1
loj. Scan. See (12, IV., .(.
104. dust— touch ! I xplain
.illusion, and nive the force of the \\ i „)
plir'ise ,i, looks bewildered, vacant
105. returned again. Criticise. stare. Distinguish
ioj.no dream. I'inphatic.
io.|. Connect " to dnst and ashes." Pause after "ashes."
iiO-iia. Pause after "courtiers, " pages," "friend," "food,'
others.
132
ADVANCED READER.
Sternly, tlioudi tcnderlv, that he mi;
rht fe^
II i
i ;
I'd
\- ,'
! J
I, 1
If!
. Hi
m
fi'iW
r
"5
The velvet scabbard held a sword of steel,
*' Art thou the Kinf(?"' tlie passion of his woe
Hurst from him in resistless overflow,
And, liftin<^ hitrh his forehead, he would flinjj:
The hauf,dity answe
r back, "I am, I am the Kinj;
Almost three years were ended ; when there came
Ambassadors of j^aeat repute and name
Imoui N'almond, Emperor of iMlemaine,
«3o Unto Kinjj; Robert, saying that Pope Urbane
]3y letter sununoned them forthwith to come
On Holy Thursday to his city of Rome.
• The Angel with great joy received his guests.
And gave them presents of eml<roiilered \ ests,
«35 And velvet mantles with rich ermine lined,
y\nd rings and jewelr, of the rarest kind.
Then he departed with them o'er the sea
Into the lovely land of Italy,
Whose loveliness was more resplendent made
MO iJy the mere passing of that ca\alcade,
With plumes, and cloaks, and housings, and the stir
Of jewelled bridle and of golden spur.
And lo! among the menials, in mock state.
Upon a piebald steed, with shambling gait,
145 His cloak of fox-tails flapping in the wind,
The solemn ape tlemurely perched behind.
King Robert rode, making huge merriment
In all the country towns through which they went.
The Pope received them with great pomp, and blare
»so Of bannered trumpets, on Saint Peter's square,
I2J. p:xplain the Metaphor as. 131-132. Criticise the rhyme, and
applied here. ! scan 1. 132. What artistic reason is
123 passion-woe. Explain. \ there for this visit to Rome ?
121-122. that he -steel. Lower the tone slightly.
123. "Art— King?" Which word is here emphatic ?
126. Emphasize the second " am " more strongly than the first.
ij)XGrr.rJ.()n'.
'33
«55
diving- his l)ciuHliction and fiiilnace,
Fervent, antl full of apostolic t,'race.
While with coiiKtatulations and with prayers
He entertained the An^a-l unawares,
Robert, the Jester, hurstin-,^ lhrou<,di th.e crowd.
Into their presence rushed, and cried aloud,
- 1 am the Kin^'! Look, and behold ni nie
Robert, your brother, Kinj^of Sicily!
Tills man, who wears my semblance to your t-yes.
Is an unpostor in a kin,Lj's dis};uise.
Do you not know me? does no voice within
Answer my cry, and say we are akm?
The Pope in silence, but with troubleil mien,
Gazed at the Ansel's countenance serene;
The Emperor, lau.t^diinj,', said, " It is stran^a^ sport
To kee}> a madman for thy Fool at court!"
And the poor, baffled Jester in disf,'race
Was hustled back amon^ the populace.
in solemn itate the Holy Week went by.
And Piaster Sunday gleamed upon the sky;
The presence of the \uiif\, with its lif,dit,
liefore the sun rose, made the city bright,
And with new fervor tilled the hearts of men.
Who felt that Christ indeed had risen a^ain.
ICven the Jester, on his bed of straw,
With haf^^^ard eyes the unwonted splentlor saw.
He felt within a power unfelt before.
And, kneeling' luunbly on his chamber floor.
He heard the rushiuf; j^arments of the Lord
Sweep through the silent air, ascending heavenward.
And now the visit ending, and once more
Valmond returning to the Danube's shori>,
134. In what sense is this expres- 17'j-i.So. Cf. 1. 174-
sion cnniinoiilv ms(hI i*
170 Easter Sunday sky. What .So. Scan. .^n.l explain the reason
superstition is here referred to ' for the irreKulanty. (12, IV., 4.)
155-156. Fast time. 157-102. High pitch, loud tone, fast time.
170
«75
180
li ^
13-1
ADVANCED READER.
Ul
Homeward the Aiif,'el journeyed, and aj^ain
Tlic land was made resplendent with his train.
185 I'^lashinf,' alon},^ the towns of Italy
Unto Salerno, and from there by sea,
And when once more within Palermo's wall,
And, seated on the throne in his ^aeat hall,
He heard the Anj^'elus from convent towers,
190 As if the better world conversed with ours.
He beckoned to Kinf,' Robert to draw ni^h.er,
y\nd with a f;esture bade the rest retire;
Ami when they were alone, the Anj^'el said,
" Art thou the Kinjjf?" Then bowinjf ilown his head,
■95 Kinf,' Robert crossed both hands upon his breast.
And meekly answered him : " Thou knowest best !
My sins as scarlet are; let me ^o hence.
And in some cloister's school of penitence.
Across those stones, that pave the way to heaven.
^00 Walk barefoot, till my Ruilty soul is shriven ! '"
The Anj^el smiled, and from his radiant face
A hoh' li,i(ht illumined all the place,
And through the open window, loud and clear.
They heard the monks chant in the chapel near,
JOS Above the stir and tumult of the street :
"f/f Ikis put ihnon the iniirlity /roiii thc'n scat,
Aiuf liiis exalted tlieiii of low decree !"
And through the chant a second melody
Rose like the throbbing of a single string:
210 " I am an Angel, and thou art the King!"
King Robert, who was standing near the throne.
Lifted his eyes, and lo! he was alone!
203-204. clear, near. Parse.
I 208,210. second melody. fCxphiin.
206-207. Show tlu- .ippropri.ite- ! Whose words arc ■; I - Kin- ! • ?
ness of the introduction of tiiis inci- ; l-xplam f^Hy the bimile.
dent.
190-200. Gentle tone, expressing humility. 20O-207. Chant these lines.
212. r.-iusc aftiT "eyes." Utter "lo!" in a tone expressing surprise.
Alone! " Emphatic.
r.iil all appari'lkMl as in days of oM,
Wiih crniiiu'd mantle and with cdoth of ^^old:
\nd when his courtiers eame. they found him there
Kneeling upon the floor, absorbed m silent pravvr.
•35
315
I Classify •' The FastitiK," and " Kin« Robert -f Sicily. •'
: Make a list, with examples, of the various artifu e. used by lon^felUnv
to ,ivel>culiar character \o '■ The Fastin,.' lOscuss the.r e lee t
3' To what extent is the poe.n susceptible of an alie^.-raal .nlerpu-
'''rShow that the lanKua^e and figures are in keepin, with the subject.
■ Describe the character of KinR Kobert of Sicily, br.n«.uK out .hr
nior-il lesson the poem is intenileil to teach.
o;nTras^^ Fasting" with "Kin, Kobert of Sicily ' under th..
follow;^":^ads^;eneral^one; versmcation ; character o. vocabularv,
sentences, and figures ; and qualities ol style.
7 IVint out passages in the poems of special beauty.
V u w tn rriticil estimate (p. ii(>), and show m detail what pecnliar-
ines S^nU^W^gSns theJein stited are UUistrated in these poems.
Show also "vhicl. is the more characteristic of the author s genius.
CoM\'OSITU)N.
Reproduce in prose -The 1-asting," and ■;K.ng Kobert of Sicily."
showing by the rendering an appreciation of their heaut.es.
%
J ■
^ J
' '
' ]
f
^'
Uv
Ml
I'RANCIS I'AKKMAN.
Hi«K.K.\i'iii( Ai.. — Francis !';irkin;m, horn in lioston. Sep; i6th, iSj^,
was oducatml at Harvard, where he graduated in 1S44. After a visit to
luirope he made an expedition across the prairies and anu)n^,' the Rocky
Mountains. For nearly ten years he suftereil from a painful disease of the
5 brain, but "the brave heart within" carried him safely through his ill-
ness; and, though partially blind, he has been able to resume his life-work,
the preparation of a history i>f the I'rench and Spanish attempts to colonize
North Amirica. lor this work he is amply (pialihed, not merely l)y his
intimate.' aciiuaintance with the journals of the Jesuit missionaries and with
10 the rc'utesof the early adventurers, but by his familiarity with Indian char-
acter and mode of life, with the lucnlities he describes, and with the lan-
^/ua^es of many of the tribes Mr Farkman has also shown wonderful
aptitude lor patient and laborious research To ensure the accuracy and
PARKMAS.
J 37
eompletcness ..f his histories, ho has ma.l. hi.ns.- f taMi.l.nr u nh th. ans.an
3 i an.l th.. lihrarios of Now Hn.la.ul a„.l .lu- In.u h-( u.u .an . M- -s
j;r NVhon ... n.nun.lK.r .ha. ^lu si.al inf.rnn.y l,a. o.,n,H.lU.a Inn, ...
L ; m.ieiicc a .rnuninK virtue" in the exc-cuti.-n ol his woiks, a.hnna-
':::^Sl::ZLnU.^ ..^severance of th.. n,an hi.-n.N ..th our .l..liKht ...
the literary urate and skill ot th.' art.st.
WoKKS.
th.. Imlians diirinn
-Th, OiiiioH Tniil (IS.,..) The fnii. of his .
riv sli.dies anions
a si...iiiifr'
i<K...Ui.ri's
...
W
o.i'in
Ai.ierica, i.n.
l..r-
d,.,l ui.rk. /■/;, History of th,- Cm
t. ken u. pr.'pare himself for his ii.te.i.l.'.l , , ,- .; i,
;^ ../• Po»inu- relat..s .1... ...hu-.s .-f an ( .ttaua eh.ci ... dv.ve tlu; K-H^ -1
^ A.nerica, an.l repr...h.c..s li.e upo,. .1... iro.U.er and ,n ,h.. w. denu-^
uithal.....ststartl.n« reality. Th, Pnnurrsoj Imm;- n, th,S,.. U..,/./. 1 .,
r o,^i a the 1-ionee!; uere .he Ih....en..t ad^..nt,.rers. Ihese .e... soon
" ^.KUe.l hv the Spaniar.ls. wh..se .uhs.-.p.ent .ars u.th the hnMjch
;nHlu.e.lastateof.,.attersthatr.n.leredcoU..i.zat.on....p..ss.l.l. 1 .... >
' . v..r Clrunt.l-.in ui.l. his associates, la.d th.. fonndati..., ..I the
r dXS n w!-;::;: ■n.y,.,,. .. so.;. ......... ^r ..arkn..,, .
\ , Lmc le.mth vvhv, fr.-.., th.' nat..re <.f Ind.an cnst...-,s, l.l.l.. p.. ■
^::^<i^ldr.t de in th..o..n ersion of the ah..ri.„...s and .Wserihes ..th
thr UiZ 'let the attempts of .he Jes.,its ... aec....,pl.sh the ..np..ss. hie
; s2 :L tlu- nisaJy of th, r,r,..t U;st : Mere ue have p-ececrto^-th...
in .n c.mnected narrative hithert.- .l.tach...! s..>r.es relat.n« to La Si... <5
h.. discuverv of the Mississippi. Th, ()l,l R,^"". ", L„n,ul„: \ reu r.l ol
ad..'- an.l of dry .acts lit up with landscape pictures an.l -"h Un.ches o
path..s and philosophy. Count rn>nt,>uu- .nnl \,.. hnuu : In ex., s
^. orded in th.. vol....... Kroup th.-mselves aro.... t o...u -,u^.^^
,nost rc.n,.,rkal>le ,nan that ..ver represente.l th.. ( r..wn "'f «•••;»""• " «»"
N . World. The last six v.>lumes, svith o.,e ..n il V. ..»./ ^'"'"^'''--^
tlH. pr..parat.on ..f uhich Mr Parkman is un.lers.,....! t.. ;e -^uaKe-l, h- ..
partes .'f a work, under the general t.tk- of Fnun. „n,l l:n,l,u„l n, So,tk
Amirica.
(•R,i.<M..-l'arkman is a .ri.er ..f >;reat strength a.vl fascinating l.ril- 4.
liancy His vv.rks abound in graphic descript.ons and .hr.ll.n.4 ep.so.l..s,
uh.ch, however, are conscienti....s r.pr.Kluctions of the pas,. ,.0, th. fancy
paintings of roma.ice. The Hn.. hetween fact a...l leKem .s .hst.nct. Me
is a true lover of nature and Im.s ..f landscape set ..ft h.s narra..ves of
heroism and a.lv.-nture The ■ hist.,rical imaK'inat.on •' he possesses .n a 50
marked decree . an artist m.ght ilh.stra.e his pages w.th the greatest ease.
Sometimes his pictures are elaborately drawn; but oftcer. w.th a few
hold touches, he brings out the salient points ..f h.s sketch, an.l allows
th. .mag.nanun to Jill in the details The author w.. never see , but there
,. always en..ugh of passion and intensity to ad<l another element ... the 55
vi -or of his style. The literarv charm is so perfect that tlu' reader .s
carried on. unamscious of the grace and ease ..f the authors w<.rk.., u.,-
ship In the treatment of religious ciuesti....s he displays fairness an.l ..n-
|i'
W
138
Ai)\\i.\ci:n ki:ai)i:r.
partiality. Occasionally hv pliiiosopiiizi's, but his forte is description and
60 narration. His works show one of the tendencies of modern historians, in
beinj,' largely a series of pictures; hut the canvas is tilknl in with so much
elal>oratir)n tiiat the due historical proportion is often not observed. It
is proper to note, however, that I'arkman apparently does this with inten-
tion, for he describes his works as bein- 'a series of historical narratives."
65 This method of treatment, while it detracts from their merits as histories,
ensures their lasting pt)pidaritv as literar\- productions.
\-i
THE DISCOVEKY OF L.\KK CHAMI'LAIN.
Irom • The Pioneers <>< Frnncu in the New World."
It was 011 the ci;j:htcentli of September liiat l'oiUf,'iavc set
saiMeavinf^Chaiiiplain with twenty-eight men to hold giifb'ec
throiif^'h the winter. Three weeks later, and shores and hills
t,dowed with j,My pro-^niostics of approaching,' desolation,— the
s yellow and scarlet of the maples, the deep jiiirple of the ash,
the fj;arnet hue of younj; oaks, the bonhre blaze o{ the tiipelo
at the water's edj^e, and the f,'olden pliimaf,'e of birch-saplings
in the fissure of the cliff. It was a short-lived beauty. The
forest dropped its festal robes. Shrivelled and faded, they
10 rustled to the earth. The crystal air and laughing stm of
October j)assed away, and November sank upon the shivering
waste, chill and sombre as the tomb
One would gladly know how the founders of Quebec spent
the long hours of tlieir first winter; but on this point the only
13 man among them, perhaps, who could write, has not thought
it necessary to enlarge. Me himself beguiled his leisure with
trapping foxes, or hanging a dead dog from a tree and watch-
I.iTKR.^RV i-j. It- winter. (12, ornament pervades the paragraph ?
'^'•' ^■) Note the graphic effect of the meta-
phorical epithets. Account for the
i-ij What characteristics of the truthful character of the author s
author does this paragraph illus- descriptions of nature. Account for
trate f SeeOiti. al estimate, d, 4<j-5o. the abrupt stvle of some of the sen-
What effect is produced on style by tences. {12. IV., 4.) I'oint out the
the introduction of such de.scrip- special beauties of the last two sen-
tions? (13, II., I.) What poetic tences. I'arse " chill," 1. 12.
Ei.ocuTioN\Kv.— For prevailing quality, force, etc., see note on p. 3.
5-7. What is tlu! inflection on " maples ' ?
io-i->. Hring out the contrast expressed here.
■ \
PARK MAS
'i'J
,n.' the hun«ry martens in tlieir etforts to reach it. Towaras
;^cbse o/^^unter. all fou.ul abun.lant ..nploymcuj u. nur.
themselves or their nci^Uuns. .,r t u- ^-v^-' ^^ ^ > '
,.n,ke out with viruk-,u:e. At the; .nnUlle o l.> on^ ^ .^^t
f .1,,. tuLMitv-ei'Mu were alive, ami of tliese hall N\t.ri.
„un of the tNvem> * '"'>\ p„,-atory wore away;
; .;i .he ,u,kc,l w«o,U; .he w^.c-wiUows were cove e^
'V, ih ir s„fl caterpillar-like blossoms; U»- twin's ,. the
„-,th th.ir ^'" ;' . , .,,, ,„.,,|v l.lon.n; the ash hm.K
"'■■■"■?'"n.utt,X 1 tt h »ha.M.,.sh seetncl a wreath
r/'s,:.: while -- -f '"■■ "• "- ^'-r;,;'!'"::!;-
h,r fallen leaves; an.l in the yo,n,« Krass of he wU
uiows, the ,„arsh-n,ar,«ol.ls shone like spots of «ol-
Great was the joy ol C.ha.nplan, w .en he saw a a. l- .
t^rv 'n>ev ...et. a,..l it was .le.er.nh.e,! he.w.^t then., that, v
:,^l.o,.!.r^tve re,na..,ea ... char«,. of U"' »- , ;;;;;;f;
slumkl e..ter at once o.i his U..iK-..le.htate.l e\plo.,il.ons, n>
:S, likc".a Salle seventy years later, he had KOO,l hope "f
''t;r.hr wal 1' t;r... .he pa.l.. The .ri..es. war- ,.
„., -ks o the wi...er,.ess. to who,., peace was .,..k..ow,., ,..-
lesu'lvntl. .heir scalp...K-p..r..e^ »'"-- -"' l'""'^^^'>'^
for Ihi; .■il)riipt stylo. Observe: that,
thnm.ulio.it the soU'cti.m, tho auth(.r
varies the iliaractcr of hin sontencos
ami the onler of his words, to suit
the mea.H.iU he iiiten.ls to L^"iuey^
What quality of style does this aid
I ill seciirinn ' (13, II.. t )
1 45, But -path. (I.:. in.,.M lix-
! plain the Metaphor
zyyi. C( 1-12. Classify this sen
tenco. Is the necessary unity Jire-
serveiP (12. II.. 2,/..) Which of the
propositions contains the general
staten 'U ? Contrast the picture m
thi V ^' '■■'«pli ^^'^'^ ''^''^ '" ^''^ '^"''
cedii' . .le. Cf. with this passage,
38-40. Thither -met. .Vccount
24-
Uccd in faster time.
I
II ' !
li'S
I4()
.l/>l I.VCA/) KEADEN,
of the forest, increasinj^^ tenfold it
ill these hazards Chauiplaii
s inseparahli- risks. 'I'hat t
o
soatte
ft
r-career bears ahimdant witness; yet
1 was more than indifferent, hi^
. .,-- 'low an expedient
lor evaduif,' them ofkred itself, so consonant with his instincts
that he was fain to accept it. Mioht he not anticipate sur-
prises, jom a war-party, and fif^ht his way to discovery?
•^unif,^ the last autumn, a younj,^ chief from the banks of
I)
55 the then unki
lown Ottawa had been at (,)uebec; and
amazed
at what he saw, he had bef,';,^.,! Champlain to join him in ti
sprm- a-ainst his enenues. These enemies were a formidable
race of sava-,^es, the Irocpiois, or I'ive Confederate \
dwellers in fortified \
ations.
:if,'es within the limits now emi)raced
6° i)y the State of x\ew York, to whom was afterwards j^iven the
fanciful name of " Romans of the New World," and who even
then were a terror to all the surrounding forests. Conspicu-
ous amoi.f,^ their enemies were their kindred, the tribes of the
Ilurons, dwellin- on the lake which bears their name, and
65 allies of Alf,'onquin bands on the Ottawa. All alike wen-
tillers of the soil. livin,<( at ease when compared to the fam-
ished Al<,^onquins of the Lower St. Lawrence
It was past the middle of M,,y, and the expected warriors
from the upper country had not come: a delay which seems
7oto have Kiven Champlain little concern, for, without waitin-
longer, he set forth with no better allies than a band of Alon"
ta-nais. But, as he moved up the St. Lawrence, he saw
thickly clustered in the borderin- forest, the lod^^^s of an
Indian camp, and, lan.linj-, found his Huron and Algonquin
75 allies. Few of them had ever seen a white man. They sur-
rounded the steel-clad stran-ers in speechl.^ss wonderment
Champlain asked for their chief, and the starinjr throng
moved with him towards a lodf,a> where sat, not one chief
but two; for each band had its own. Tliere were feasting'
5-'-53 Might -discovery. Wliat
is tlie effect on style of sentences of
this form ^ (ij, II., i.)
'II. Romans— New World. i:.\-
plain tlie application of this epithet.
61-62. even— then. Why "even"?
62-65. Conspicuous— Ottawa. Is
this sentence perspicuous ? Criticise.
(13. 1-. -'. <•, .:).
69. delay. Parse.
5J. What Inflection is here required ? (III., 0, </.)
i:\RKM.ix
Ml
„„..ki,w. speeches; an.l, llu- ".-ll"l ..■.."">.» ■-''";'
,„1 l,„Uk«l Ihemsi'lvcs for Uwn wa, .an..- In H . "
: , , „uMr („.■ .la,. .1 a«alns, .1..- bla. k -"1 )■'««'• ' ;
u h. tierce re.l l,«l.l Ml ..n l.,w„.v li.nl.s .■..nv.,ls..l sv.ll.
ttl '•.,»•<■« an.l f,T.,ci..us sla,„pin,s; .„, ........... .1 ^ ■
1,,:,; .l.,„c balchels, a..,l .t.....-p.....te.l la..">. "I" ' J '
::;;;','';* .ill .w I....- i..wi ....•; .iav..s.a..i.-.ia, ^^
,l,c s.a,...l. «av.- I.:.<k a uh....p .... Lss .l.s. ...<1.. ...
S a. 1 vUl. (:l.a...plai.. a.,.l vi.w .1.. ua.-.la,,..;, s.. v^ H-
„i,^, , U .• war.f.-ast - a close-pack..! c,....pa..y. r...« -.l....
:',lrave„o,.sfeas.crs., .1.... -...Lark w,.l, I'-; ;;;'-;• ■;
l,r,l.,L.<l vu..turc of .lis,-..vi-ry. Il "as ... a ....all shall, j..
nc ,. i.v' l.is s.,.,.i..-law. Marais, a,.,l l.a K....... . L." P '" ;
' . .;- ar.„e.l W..1, .1.0 ar„uel.„s.., a ...a.ol.l.ak ... hr.l... k
o , wha. Hke the n,o.ler., carl,i.,e, a..,l Iro... .ts ;•;;;;•;-;
ill.suile.l for .ise i.. the f..resl. <>.. ll.e tw.'..ty-.a«l.tl. .1 Ma> .
i" pr..a,l their sails a...l 1..1.1 th-.. ■ ""- ^'«;"- "'" > •' , -
'.mv hile aro.,...l .I..... the r.v.-r uas ahv ".,1. ca„oes. an.l
:,;;„e,.s of ..ake.l ar.ns pl.e.l the pa.Ml.- "...a s t.-a. v,
„,cas„re.l sweep. They c.osse.l the l.ake ..I M. Lt...
Si. wonders of architecture
What arc relerruil u> ?
i,nn«inati<.n •• Sec Critical estiinatc,
11. 5«>-55
I 9O-99. Stand discovery. N.-tttlu'
.S:; veloed consternation. I'ara- 1 ^^,1^,,,,. j.v xvhi. 1> thf .iiitli..r uiv<s
phrase tliis ^^raphic and liiu>ly con-
densed expression.
s,-95 Show that this paragraph n
illustrates the authors " historical i .^i.)
"vividness to liie scene, (i^, IV-, ,V)
and (13. 11. ■ ' l-M'l'""' "• >•"-»;'■
103- 1 o.( not ill-suited, (i.:. IV.
84-95. Kea.1 in faster than the prevailing time an.l with .ncrease.l force.
Notice the Imitative Modulation reipuretl
MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART
(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)
1.0
I.I
-m
1^
KUU
3.2
3.6
4.0
1.25
1.4
III 2.5
1 2.2
2.0
1.8
1.6
A ^IPPLIED IN/HGE Inc
S!l 1653 Eost Moin Street
r%S Rochester, New York 14609 USA
'"^ 1716) 482 - 0300 - Phone
^S (716) 288 - 5989 -Fax
142
.-/ n VANCE I) REA DER.
'IV
; u
<i
threaded the devious chcinnels among its many islands, and
no readied at last the mouth of the Riviere des Iroquois, since
called the Richelieu, or the St. John, Here, probably on the
site of the town of Sorel, the leisurely warriors encamped
for two days, hunted, fished, and took their ease, regaling
their allies with venison and wild-fowl. They quarrelled, too;
IIS three-fourths of their number seceded, took to their canoes in
dudgeon, and paddled towards their homes, while the rest
pursued their course up the broad and placid stream.
On left and right stretched walls of verdure, fresh with the
life of June. Now, aloft in the lonely air, rose the cliffs of
120 BeUfil, and now, before them, framed in circling forests, the
Basin of Chambly spread its tranquil mirror, glittering in the
sun. The shallop out-sailed the canoes. Champlain, leaving
his allies behind, crossed the Basin and essayed to pursue his
course; but, as he listened in the stillness, the unwelcome
125 noise of rapids reached his ear, and, by glimpses through the
dark foliage of the Islets of St. John, he could see the gleam
of snowy foam and the flash of hurrying waters. Leaving
the boat by the shore in charge of four men, he set forth with
Marais, La Routte, and five others, to explore the wild be-
130 fore him. They pushed their tedious way through the damps
and shatlows of the wood, through thickets and tangled vines,
over mossy rocks and mouldering logs. Still the hoarse sur-
ging of the rapids followed them ; and when, parting the screen
of foliage, they looked forth, they saw the river thick set with
135 rocks, where, plunging over ledges, gurgling under drift-logs,
darting along clefts, and boiling in chasms, the angry waters
filled the solitude with monotonous ravings.
Champlain, disconsolate, retraced his steps. He had learned
the value of an Indian's word. His mendacious allies had
140 promised him, that, throughout their course, his shallop could
1 1 8- 1 2 2. On— sun. What artistic 12G- 127. the gleam— waters. Ob-
object has the author in introducing serve the finely descriptive linita-
descriptions of natural scenery ? Cf. | tive Harmony.
11. r ,ind 2VJ2.
iiy. Explain the force of "lonely." , i30-i37- ^f- !•■ ii«-i22.
127 and 135-137. Fas'.:'- time. 130-132. Slower time.
I
PARKMA>>'
M3
I
ana fovco tne a.scovx.y ^^ ^^^n^ oi forests. .Inch h,s
..lanas --V^-^^;;^;\^,^U^ outline, ana by wo^a ana s,,n
vca companions haati arc ci
luul panUca to his f;^';^>-- j^^ ,^, u,„na the whole savai^e
When he reachea tl- -^^^ ^ ,,^,,j, ,,,,u.a tlieir baa
crcNV L'atherea at the spot. , , .^i^.^.^ivc.! huu. he, as
;::^, bnt aaaea. that. tw.h t ;^ ;^ ;^^
far as nii.lit be, --la J^'^^^ ,^ ,,. greater part ot the.,
airectea ^l--^' ^ ^^^ ^iiie he. with two who oiierea to
,nen, to return to Q^'^^'''' ^^^^y^.,,, canoes,
follow him, shouia P---^ ^^ :^ ;,,,, ,,e water, ana m Ion.
The warriors hftca the u can H^ckerin- sun ana
procession through ^^;;^Xu^ --^^ .he rapuls to the .s
shade, bore them on tl-" ^| ^^^^ ^,^^.^,f, ,,,ae a muster of
smooth stream ^"^^^'J^^^,, ,,,oes and sixt>- warriors.
,Ueir forces, countm,^ '^ . "j need once more, by marsh,
AH embarkea a.^am, ^^'l"^^]^^^^,^ then full of .^ame. for
„.eaaow, foresu ancl ^-^ -^^^^^^..^.th ana battle-.rouna ..o
it ,.as an unmhalntea ^^ ^^^^^vd a certain system in
of hostile tribes, fhe ^^a ors o ^^ ^,^^„..,,,,a ; others
tueir aavance. Some we^c - fion ^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^,^^^ ^^^ ^,
formea the main >oa> , win e ^^^^ subsistence ot
f,,ests on the flanks -;^ ^ ; ^ l:,sion of parclu.l maize ..
thcwhole-.for.thou.h lushal.i^l ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^.j^^,,^^ „,,,, the
poundea into meal, ^^^ /^,^„^^i,i i.ecome impossible,
vicinity of the enem>,hunin.^ ^,^^,^^. ^^^,^„,.,,
Late in the ^ay, they la mle^ ^-^^^^ ^J^^^^ ^^^^ bustle,
ranging them closely, ^';^ ^ ^^^^ ^■^,,, their camp-sheas; ..o
Some strippea shee s o ^2rJi^^■a.in\\oide■..ld^■^^■-^^-■^
others gatherea -^f^^^^tlt^nc^^- They seem to
--others fellea the In ng t ecs o ^^^^ ^^^^^^ . ^^^^
have haa steel axes, obtainea ^^^J^^ ,^ ^,^.„,,. aefeiisive
,, less than two hours ^^->!^Vthe river siae, where their ,.
work, a half circle in form, open on
141-145- cf. u. 52-53.
154.155. flickering sun and shade.
Note that the amlu^r is a cU.e
observer of nature, ev.n
details.
iliilll
M I
144
AD VA XCHIJ READER .
' !
I go
i5',
canoes lay on the strand, and large enough to enclose all their
huts and sheds. Some of their number had gone forward as
scouts, and, returning, reported no signs of an enemy. This
was the extent of their precaution, for they placed no guard,
i8o but all, in full security, stretched themselves to sleep — a vicious
custom from which the lazy warrior of the forest rarely
departs.
They had not forgotten, however, to take counsel of their
oracle. The medicine-man pitched his magic lodge in the
1S5 woods — a small stack of poles, planted in a circle and brought
together at the tops like stacked muskets. Over these he
placed the filthy deer-skins which served liim for a robe, and
creeping in at a narrow orihce, he hid himself from view.
Crouched in a ball upon, the earth, he invoked the spirits in
nunnbling, inarticulate tones; while his naked auditory,
squatted on the ground like apes, listened in wonderment antl.
awe. Suddenly, the lodge moved, rocking with violence to
and fro, by the power of the spirit- as the Indians thought,
while Champlain could plainlv the tawny fist of the
195 medicine-man shaking the poles. I'hey begged him to keep
a watchful eye on the peak of the loilge, whence fire and
smoke would presently issue; but v.-ith the best efforts of his
vision, he discovered none. Meanwhile the medicine-man
was seized with such convulsions, that, when his divination
200 was over, his naked body streamed with perspiration. In
loud, clear tones, and in an unknown tongue, he invoked the
Spirit, who was understood to be present in the form of a
stone, and whose feeble and squeaking accents were heard at
intervals like the wail of a young puppy.
205 Thus did they consult the Spirit — as Champlain thinks, the
Devil— at all their camps. His replies, for the most part, seem
to have given them great content; yet they took other mea-
sures, also, of which the military advantages were less ques-
tionable. The principal chief gathered bundles of sticks, and
210 without wasting his breath, stuck tiiem in the earth in a cer-
tain order, calling each by the name of some warrior, a few-
taller than the rest representing the subordinate chiefs. Thus
was indicated the position which each was to hold in the ex-
pected battle. All gathered round and attentively studied the
PAR KM AX
H5
,i.ks rin-anl like a dulcrs woo.l.n soUHcrs. <>v Uu' imrrs on -n,
.he;s l>^^u- • tlu.n, with no lurlher insUurU-n, ihcy Onncl
,.; ;tt^;ianas appeavea. leagues u. .xt.U s,. a a .o
, 111 r,-.nr1.- Isle Channels wlu'ie snii^s
B ; V woods. ti,e .rannui, flood .p.oad -"';-;-_.-
countn.,^-rooms or ^f ^^'%* f"^^, " ; ^ i,,,„ois n.ade them
with sketch-book and pencl 1 hen the ^ " 1^^ j
their huntin,-grou.Kl; -^Vlhe'^e^Ie r^ h d ti:e long .3
Mohawk, the Ononaaga, ana the (.enesee, sueie
Une of their t\ve cantons ana palisaclea towns.
\t night they were encampea again. The ^^^'^^
familiar one to Lny a tourist ancl ^P--'-'- ,;- ' {^^ ^^^^
standing at sunset on the peacetul stranC ^^^'^"^P^-^'\/';
::hat a'roving stuaent of this .ener^ioii has seen . tlu.c ..
same shores, at that same houi -the M«^^ ' ^^^^
sun behina the western mountains, aarkly p led ni mist a
I'dow along the sky; near at hancl, the ^ead pine img^i^
decay, stretching its ragged arms athwart the bui -''^ ^^^^^ ^ |
the 'row perche^d on its top like an image ^^-^^^^^^.^l^ ^
aloft the 1 ightdiawk, circling in his flight, and, with a st ai c
whirring sound, diving through the air each moment foi the
insects he makes his prey. ^,
The progress of the party was becoming dangerous. They
does the author probably rufer '
' See Biographical notice, U. 10-12.
I Mi-248, Note the graphic pic-
,^0 roving student. To whom I ture. See Critical estimate, 11. 5-^54.
K
223. them. What ^
226. wilderness sea. Explain
I^f)
AnVAXCEl) READER.
V il
V 1!'
.o chan.^ed their mode of advance, and n^oved only -n tlie ni^ht.
A lav thev lay close n, the depth of the forest sleepm.s
^ u ' mg, snK.ki4 tobacco of their own raising, and beguihn,
r hours, no doubt, with the shallow banter and obscene
estin, with wluch knots of Indians are wont to amuse heir
., :^ur:. At twilight they embarked ^^^^:^^^^^
catitious way till the eastern sky began to redden. 1 heir goa
was the rocky promontory where Fort ^^^--^^^^^y^^^
Tfterwards built. Tlience, they would pass the ou let of Lake
George, and launch their canoes again on that Como of he
.0 wildc^-ness, whose waters, limpid as a fountanvheac^sU-etched
far southward between their flanking '"7-^^"^^- , ^^7;^" ,^^^
the future site of Fort William Henry, they would carry tlut
canoes through the forest to the River Hudson, .indd^^^^
in- it, attack, perhaps, some outlying town of the Mohawks.
., ;^th; nex. century this chain of lakes and nvei. l^came^
grand highway of savage and civilised war, a bloody debat
able gromid linked to memories of momentous conflicts.
The allies were spared so long a progress. On the morning
of i^v^ twenty-ninth of July, after paddling all night hey hid
.;o as usual, in the forest on the western shore, not far f om
Sovv Pomt. The warriors stretched themselves to then
^ImXer , and Champlain, after walking for a time through
he s r oundmg woods, returned to take his repose on a pile
o spruce-boughs. Sleeping, he dreamed a dream, wherein he
a„ beheld the Iroquois drowning in the lake; and, essaying to
rett them, 1 'e was told by his Algonquin friends that l.ey
were good for nothing, and had better be left to their fate.
Now, he had been daily beset, on awakening, by "^ ^^
fions aUies ea-er to learn about his dreams; and, to this
.somoLi" lis un^ slumbers had failed to furnish the
des e pro.n.ostics. The announcement of this auspicious
vSr filled^the crowd with joy, and at nightfall they em-
barked, flushed with anticipated victories.
251-255. All— leisure. Account
for the author's knowledge of Indian
character, as displayed here, and
throuj^hout thcsclcclion,
256. cautious way. Explain.
259. Como. Show the appropri-
ateness of this figure. (12, IV., 19.)
265-267. To what events in the
Kevolutionarv and the French and
Indian war does the author refer ?
t-ir
I',[RKM-^S.
1-17
H was ten o dock in lu . -. " ~ •|.,,.,„. „,,v a ,8,
„„j„..s ,n n,otion on Uu: ^;^^' ','„„,,, Unu, Uuns. lo.
iUm of lro,,uo.s canoes. ' •- " ^^,„, „„, „,l„.v, and
,„,y were nuulc ol oak.ha.U .1 .^, ^^.^,,,„. ,,„,
,„o n,inKlc.1 war-cr,es l-;'^' ^ ' ,^ „ „„ slon.ach for an
la„,nois. who were near .1 e ' ^ • ' ^ ,,;.,,„,„ wiU> .lunr ..„
„,,„,aic iKUtle, landed. -"•'•"■;;;„:,, champkun cnld
clan,ors, be.an to "-';;,.,,': '^^beavers. l,a.kn,« down
see ,l.e.n n, the -»'' ; '; ■™ ■;; „„, Canadian trtlns ,n war.
trees with "<,n ^'- ;' > ™,. „„,„ ,„,kin«. TLe alius re
and with stone ha chets ol nc l.anicade. .«
,„.,ined on the lake. " '-^ "' , .° ,,, „,,,ed across. .Ml
U.eir canoes ''«''^'"^,V ^ "' 1 vi 'or as the frailty of tlu-.r
„i,h,, they dance,l ^"''\ "^'' "„ ,''-,,,,,,1,,. atnends for the
,,;,,ls wonld permit then '""■' "^' „„;,,,, on boll, sides
enf-ea ^estratnt ° ' ^^ j^;'- , ^^^.^ak ; b„t tneanwhile 3^
that the haht should be deterrea |,oastinj; t;ave
„ conttnerce of "l--^-'-^''^' ^^2; of the co,nbata,,ts.
in a beleaguered to^vn•■■ followers put on the ,05
As day approached, he ^J^^ ^^.^^^ ,^,, aoublet aud
H.ht armor ot the tune. Cham a ^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^ .^
long hose then m vogue Ux e ^^^^ ^^.^ ^^^.^^^^^ ^^.^^^.
breastplate and prolnd.y a lacMec,^ ^^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^
protected by cuisscs of stee . m ^^ bandoleer, .3-
casque. Across lus shou der hung he n.1^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^
or immunmon-box; ^^ /^/^^^^^f iJ^^^d with four balls,
hand Ins arquebuse, winch a^ o ^^^ ^^.,^^^
Such was the eqmpn.ent ^^^^^^^^le landing of the Puritans
exploits date ^le-;;^ >--;;^ ^^I^^Kn.g Philip's War.
at Plymouth, and sixt> -six > tars g^p,,rate canoe, and.
Each of the three Frenchmen - - - ^ ^^^ ^,.^,,, ^. i,,,,
as h grew hght, they kept ^^;^'^'^J^'^^^,, mdian robe.
at the bottom, or ---^^^^:;;::^^^,r all landed whhout
The canoes approached the shoie,
.U5
284-28S It. What? when— them.
What part of speech is this proposi-
tion ?
commerce. Explain
317. either. Criticise position.
il"! ii
148
, / /; / -ANCED READER.
It
lli:l
320 opposition at some distance from the Iroquois, whom they
presently could see lilin^^ out of their barricade, tall, strong
men, some two hundred in number, of the boldest and fiercest
warriors of North America. They advanced through the
forest with a steadiness which excited the admiration of
325 Cluiniplain. xVmong them could be seen several chiefs, made
conspicuous by their tall plumes. Some bore shields of wood
and hide, and some were covered with a kind of armor made
of tough twigs interlaced with a vegetable fibre supposed i)y
Champlain to be cotton.
330 The allies, growing anxious, called with loud cries for their
champion, and opened their ranks that he might pass to the
front. He did so, and, advancing before his red companions-
in-arms, stood revealed to the astonished gaze of the Iroquois,
who, beholding the warlike apparition in their path, stared in
335 mute amazement. But his arquebuse was levelled; the report
startled the woods, a chief fell dead, and another by his side
rolled among the bushes. Then there rose from the allies a
yell, which, says Champlain, would have drowned a thunder-
clap, and the forest was full of whizzing arrows. For a
340 moment, the Iroquois stood firm and sent back their arrows
lustily; but when another and another gunshot came from the
thickets on their flank, they broke and fled in uncontrollable
terror. Swifter than hounds, the allies tore through the
bushes in pursuit. Some of the Iroquois were killed; mo.o
Ml were taken. Camp, canoes, provisions, all were abandoned,
and many weapons flung down in the panic-flight. The
arquebuse had done its work. The victory was complete.
At night, the victors made their bivouac in the forest. A
great fire was kindled, and near it one of the captives was
350 bound to a tree. The fierce crowd thronged around him, fire-
brands in their hands. Champlain sickened at his tortures: —
" Let me send a bullet through his heart."
They would not listen; and when he saw the scalp torn
from the living head, he turned away in anger and disgust.
355 They followed : —
343-347-
(12, iV., 4.
Note the abrupt style. I 352. Observe the effect of the
! change to direct narration. (13,
I III., I.)
PARKMAS.
'I'J
..Dowl,atyou -i" -itl. 1<"-;' ^f ,,i^ „,,„,,, „„.
He Uirneil ai,Miii. ari'l M H" "1
„„.tch's woes were omtal ^^^ ^^ ^^^ . |,,._.„,,|,
,„ |,i, remonstrance. '":''■"';', „,„„,, .l.en prisoners of , -
„„.ersoused.he,rpr,sone.s No. n 1^^^^ .^^ ^^_^
,,,. „„t had <^'>;;"";l"; ;, r^'o.cv at l^aris,-ba,l he seen
f,„„,ie.l crowd on the 1 . «• de a U ^^^^^ __^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^..,,,
„„ reticle Rava.Uac. ""^;^'"-;° .„„ ;„ ,„, lacerated hreast.
anguish, the hot lead and msccthn ^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^
„„, tue horses va.nly """,';,,;,„ '^„„,,aritv had foun.l
;r::^,r^r;hS':X:".::»"... of .ave and learned
'"^:-vietors made a projrp. -a. ... Uk;^^™;;-;;- „„
„in,„ph Tl-Xe the .a-u'.!; the Hnrons and Al^on-
the R.Che l.eu. "^^ "•> \^^^-, homeward route, each w,th
,,„i„s made for the O"''; ,=^' ''"'', „^,„s, M p.ntins they nt-
a share of prisoners for . » «| '°™= ' „,„, J ,„e„, a«ain ,n
r: .^r:i:r >::.::."" '^htcTVhis pa,adn, of the woods.
-r ::;:Z^,ow ren^mm, to ,nm ..
.agnats. ^- ^'f ^J^^Z^^^^^ "l'°" '"-"^ ^'T
that a war.party of '"T °'\; , ,,^i,. ,,„„, peddled in dis- 3^
. npon,inatorrentofra,n.the5.1e^tU,e ^^ ^_^^| |_^,
„,,, .0 .„e ;f-'>^ .=;Xr Iret "t],enK.r,nn,;.!u.. took
tl,cmselves all m«h " <= -'^■,^ ,,,,,ended to (h.ehec.
heart, emerged from '"V", ^ ' „.|,itl er Champlain accon-
and -nt thence to '"f^- ;;^ '^knaKed.'swan, nut .03.
,,anied them. »"<=• "f/'^^^.^'^f „,e dead Iroquois, and.
the canoes to rece.ve the hea Is o ,ri,„„,,l,ant glee
,,a„g,ng them front the.r ;-«';^- J ;'■;"/:,, of 'arms were
along the shore. One ° .^e teads a ^^^^^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^^.
then hestowed on t.'"""!'''"",, '° '" ,,„\,„aus to keep for 3,»
„ulc-which. however, he was b> no
himself, but to present thetnjo^he Jsan,.
' rT^T"^ ^so touching memorials. I'ot^
350-368. Give an account of the ^^^f ^^^^f ^'jt.af, tl.is ^ (i.lV.U.)
events here referred to. which-King. Cvaxci^e
^75, paladin of the woods, t.^- ^j^^-;t/u'cture of this proposuion.
plain the Allusion.
15^'
.l/>r.l.yC/i/) READ EN.
W '
\in
Thus (lid New France rush into collision with the redoubted
warriors of the Five Nations. Mere was the bej^Mnnin^, in
some measure doubtless the cause, of a long suite of murderous
3'^s conflicts, bearing havoc and flame to generations yet unborn.
Champlain had invaded the tiger's den ; ami now, in smothered
fury, the patient savage would lie biding his ilay of blood.
W-397 ('ive a brief accmint of mistake inaile by riiamplain in Iph
the subsequent troubles with the liulinn policy. What course she .Id
Five Nation Indians, I'oint out the i he have taken ?
1. Classify the preceding selection.
2. What are the prevailing types of sentences.
5. Show that the author has observed the rules for the construction of
paragraphs.
4. Make a list, with examples of the various means by which he has
secured the strength and brilliancy of his style.
5 Refer to Critical estimate (p. 137-13S). -ni'l «'io^^' '" ^l*''"'*'' ,*.'>''
peculiarities of the author's genius therein slated, which the precedmg
selection illustrates.
6. Point out the finest de.-icriptive passages in " The Discovery of Lake
Champlain."
7 What Canadian selection closely resembles the preceding in general
vie ? Compare them under the heads of the answer to question 4.
sty
Composition.
I. Make a list of the subjects of the leading paragraphs of "The Dis
covery of Lake Champlain."
n. With the answer to the preceding question as heads, reproduce the
substance of the selection.
JOHN GKEENLEAF NVHITTIER.
ceru,. ^ 1807, worked on his f^'^e ^ form ^^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^.^,,^^^, u
v'ards he attended an academy for about > ^^ .ecas.onaUy
he school education he ever ^^^^^^ ^.^^^os^uon and his hter. s
.rote verse, for the "e-^P-Pe ^- ^"^^^ ^^t' p.^er urUer. In iS^'J ^e be-
arv culture were acquired '"-'"1> f '^^^^^ ^.^^e. ,, uell as in Hartford,
came connected -ith jour nahsmm Boston,^ ^^^_^^^^ ....papers till iS.V>
Haverhill. Philadelphia and ^^^^^J "^^^^^^^j,,^ editor of the Washington
some years afterwards he became corre 1^ U^^ ^.^ ,,,, .^ . .
N<,<,o»./ i>«, to which he contnbuted n > ^^^^^^^^ ^^^^ ^ ,
parents were Friends, -^^^"jjtfluences of his youth, there ore,
member of the Society. Jh';^'^^"^,.- in his career he identihed h m-
biassed his mind ^gamst Slavery _ 1 ^a^y .^^ ^^^ est- bl.shmen o
self with the movement for its -^°^^^;";;^ ^j^^^.i „i,. of this latter act he .5
the American Anti-Slavery Society at 1 h. ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^ , ^er
has said that, although not --" f ^J'^,, ^.slavery Declaration of 1833
value on his "name as appended to the An^^^ ^^ ^.,„,esbury. Mass.. and is
than on the title-page of any book,
nnich respected by his countrymen. During the Anti- .0
PHt.cn.. W0KKS.-L<,,n."<fs of^2^';^;X ^irecled to awakening his
152
.U>r.iA'CE/^ READER,
> ■!
•'.4^
hi
Hi
complicity with ihosi; ciiH-iKt-'il in t'le tr.iltic, I'oicts of Frcaloin (1S41) niul
The PiiHoramn, liiid Otliir /W»n (1^36) jjlow with moral indignation, and
?5 wer£! a powerful aiil to the causo of N('^,'ro Minanripation, His poems Ju
War Time (if^').}) K'U'i; him a popularity which t!ic subject of his earlier
vohunes had rendered impossihle. On the close of tlu; war, he devoted
himself to purely literary topics. Snow-lioiinti (i.s<)5), a New lMi;,'land
Idyll, contains more of the national spirit than almost any other American
3" poem. Then followed, at different dates. The Tent on the Beach ; Amoufr
the Hills ; Miriam ; The Peniisyhaiiia Pilfj^rim ; Hazel-lilossoms ; and The
Vision of Echard. Of his poems other than th;")se on moral or political
(juestions, probably the best known are Maud Miiller nn<\ liarhara Friel:hie,
the latter bein^; based on an incident of the (avil War. Some of his later
33 prf)(luctions, notably The Bay of Seven Islands, show increased grace of
style and enhanced poetic power. His chief prose works are Leaves from
Margaret Smith's Journal (1X30), a sketch of I'uritan intolerance ; Old
Portraits and Modern Sketches (1S50), and Literary Recreations (1S54).
'.'kiticai.. — Whittier is eminently an American. His productions are no
40 mere imitations of forei).^n models ; his inspiration comes from his sur-
roundinf^s. " The few and simple elements of the landscapes in his nati%e
I"lssey — bleak hills, broad marsiies. and the sea — ha\(! bet;n as fertili; in
sng^iestions to him, as tliouj,di he had all his life been loiterinf; in ICden."
His poems against slavery, war, and oppression are full of fire: his later
45 compositions an- remarkable for their pensi\e be.-uit\- and pathetic grace.
Some of his ballads are subdued in tone ; others, again, are bright and
vivid pictures. In his lyrics, he is the poet of Man; while in The Tent on
the Beach he shows himself the poet of Nature. Nature by the seashore
and the lakes of the north has for him a peculiar attraction ; his verses
50 breathe of its freshness and purity. From the circumstances of his youth
he is under less obligation to scholastic culture than most of those who
rank with him ; but, though he has not at his command the rich stores of
illustration which Longfellow possessed, some of his works display a high
degree of artistic skill.
RPRipri
SKH'PER H^ESON'S KH^^H.
Of all the rides since the birth of time,
Told in story or siuig in rhyme,—
On Apiileius's Golden Ass,
Or one-eyed Calendar's horse of brass,
LiTERAKV. — Describe the versiri- metre. What is the metrical move-
cation of the first stanza, and scan ment intended to represent? (12,
each line. Observe the irregular IV., 4.)
Elociiionauv.— Commence with animated, pure tone, middle pitch,
and moderate time.
3-6. Lower the pitch slightly in reading these lines. Return on 1. 7 to
the pitch of 1. 2.
15
ao
'53
WIllTTIER.
Witch astride of ^ \^^^^^^'''' 1^;^^^'
Islam's pvoplul o,, AMU.iak-
The stra.^esl ride that ever w.s s^ d
Was Ireson-s. out from MarHeheadl
'\Md Floyd Ireso.Uo. ins har.lh..r,
Tarred a.ul feathered and ranu-dm a catt
I'.ylheNVomenofMarl.lehead!
Hodv of turkey, head of owl,
Win^^sa-drooplikearamed-onU m.
Feathered and rnrtled in every part,
Skipper Ireson stood n) the ca. I.
Sec res of women, old and youn-.
Stron, of muscle, and ,hb ot ton.'uc.
Lh^Und pulled up tl.e r^c^y-^^^
Shoatin,' and sin^.n,^ ^^^^ , orr h^
.. Hen •., I'lnd Oirson, fur Ins horrcl horn,
T^:-d an' futherr-d an; corrd ,n a eorrt
By the women o' Morhleead.
Wrinkled scolds with hards on hips,
Girls in bloom of cheek and hps,
Wdd-eyed, frecdinrhed, such as chased
Bacchus round sonre antiqne vase.
Brief of skirt, with ankles bare
T ^f 1-orrhic'f and loose ot nan,
WUrc':.' 'd, tens Uo« in« an., fish-honW Uv.n«, ^
.^ ,. ..,1,1 nvor the Mamatls san^^ :
''^:rH:;; -s Find 0.rson, fnr his horrd horrt,
Torr'd an' fntherr'd an corr'd n> a corrt
By the women o' Morble ead .
""""""is. Skipper— cart. Hcan.
5, Witch. Va-c. ' ^
9-11. Floyd Ireson. . ^'^'^^'^^J^ \ ...30. Observe the viyidncss of
count for th. changes in the snhsc- , "3 ? ^^^^^ ^,.^^^^^ „ ,,,uis.
quent forms of the refrain. tne i
12-n Body -fowl. Show the ^„ Maenads. What has suggested
aplic^iuuene^ ^-l^'?. S'""" ^h^dS-u.n ^
rarse"boay. ^^ 'i> ^^' 21— — —
7, Emphasize" strangest ••not^-^ruVeJ^ .!"ood^;' ' Lso after "pulled"
in? xf^'^S-^^^e^d aSing to the descnpt.on in 1. i..
"3.30. Fas or time. .6. Pause after " Bacchus.
as
154
tnr.i.ycEP k'F..inF.k\
\' *
t 1
!|
;i
■*1
35
•IU
45
5°
55
Small pity for him I — he sailed away
I'Vcjin a leaking shin in Chaleiir Bay, —
Sailed away from a sinking wreck,
With Ids own town's-people on her deck !
" Lay by ! lay by ! "" they called to him ;
Back lie answered, " Sink or swim !
Brag of yonr catch of fish again ! "
And off he sailed through the fog and rain !
Old Floyd Ireson, for his hartl heart.
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart
By the women of ^Nlarblehead !
Fathoms deep in dark Chaleur
That wreck shall lie for evermore.
Mother and sister, wife and maid,
Looked from tlie rocks of Marblehead
Over the moaning and rainy sea —
Looked for the coming that might not be !
What did the winds and the sead)irds say
Of the cruel captain who sailed away ? —
Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart
B}' the women of INLarblehead !
Through the street, on either side.
Up flew windows, doors swung wide,
Sharp-tongued spinsters, old wives gray,
Treble lent the tisli-horns" bray.
45-55- Characterize the tone of by the introduction of the imagina-
this stanza. See(ij, III., i and z.) tive element.
51-5-!. What — away? Observe
the heightening of the poetic effect
59. Treble— bray. E.xplain fully,
34-37. Narrative, pure tone, moderate force.
jS. Lay by ! 39-40. Sink— again ! l.oud force, high pitch, shouting
tone. (III., I, h.) "They called— answered ; " moderate force, middle
pitch, narrative tone.
45-55. This stanza requires gentle force, slow time, middle to low pitch.
Why"? (HI., 2, 3, 4.)
5G-63. Read these lines with louder force, faster time, and higher pitch
than the preceding. Why ^ 57. I'ause after "Up."
■AHITTIER-
Sea-worn .vandsires, cvippK-lKnnul,
SS:s::.:-i; -:;;
V 1 f-rnrked wilh curses Hit noai.
•''::^C^Flud().son,furh.shorr -^
Torr'dan-futherr-dan con dn aeon
By the women o- Morble ead .
Sweetly alon^' the Salens road
XJof orchard and hbc showed.
. .tie the wicked ^^VV^^^^^ ^^ ,,,,.
Of the fields so green and the. KN
By the women o Moibletaa.
'5:)
?Iear me, neighbors
at last he cried, -
fto
f'5
7°
75
85
" near uit-, nv-'r,--- - . . , -,
\Vhat is the shame tha tc o 1 -
To .he nameless horror that hve
Waking or sleepmK. l^'^j' ,
A„a hear a cry from a .ee '^„
Hate me and cm^e '"-■''^^^J^i ,„e dead!"
A ^ th^ more smoothly than tho- of the
Oi Hulks -aground. Note ^receding stanza ' iL^l'^- '
aptness of the description. , 145-52.
ni-03.SeeU.iy 4andto,)and^l 4.. ^^^^^^ ^,^^,,„,
(7). Explam clearly 1. 63. y
07-70. Why do these Ime^ J-^b ■ __
1 with loud force and high pitch.
78. I<eadlreson•s^vords^Mthloua
ia-8i. Notice the contrasted svord.. (IH • /•
156
90
95
A D I 'ANCED RE A DER.
Then the wife of the skipper lost at sea
Said, "■God has, touched him! — zahy should icc?'
Said an old wife mourninfTj her only son,
''Cut the rofriie's tether, and let him run!"
vSo with soft relentings and rude excuse.
Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose,
And ^di\e him a cloak to hide him in.
And left him alone with his shame and sin.
Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard lieart,
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart
By the women of Marbleliead !
THE BAY OF SEVEN ISLANDS.
The skipper sailed out of the harbor-mouth,
Leaving the applcrbloom of the South
For the ice of the Eastern seas,
In his fishing schooner Breeze.
Handsome and brave and young was he,
And tlie maidens of Newbury sighed to see
His lessening white sail fall
Under the sea's blue wall.
Describe the versification of "The
Bay of Seven Islands." What is pecu-
liar in the arrangement of the lines in
the quatrain ? How does it affect the
tone of the poem ? Scan 11. 1-4.
Observe throughout the harmoni-
ous Melody of the language. (13,
III., I and 2.) j
2. apple-Moom of the South. Ex-
plain, and quote a similar phrase
from "Ireson's Ride."
5. Note, as here, the frequent Hy-
perbaton (12, IV., 7), and Polysyn-
deton (12, IV^, 10).
7-8. Show the force of " fall " and
"wall."
90-92. Express the difference between the feelings of the speakers.
Commence in moderate time, with middle pitch, and with animated,
narrative, pure tone. 2-3. Note the contrasted words.
5. Read in a tone expressing admiration. Pau;,e after each Adjective.
6. Pvonounce "maidens of Newbury" as one word. Pause after
"sighed," and connect " to see " with the words following.
7. Pause after " white sail." Prolong the sound of " fall."
WHITTIER-
ThrouM. the Northevn Gulf and the n.sty screen
O t^^lsles of Mn.^an and ^ adelc.nc,
^ St Paul-^^ and Blanc bablon,
The little Bfcczc sailed on,
Backward and forward alonK the shore
O .Ud and desolate Labrador,
And found at last her ^vay
To the Seven Islands bay.
The httle hamlet, nestling below
G e.a hUls wlnte with hngeru.g snow,
1v th Its tuvroofed chapel stood
Halfdud in the dwarf spruce wood ,
Green-turfed, flower-sown, the last outpost
S summer upon the dreary coas.
With its gardens small and spare,
Sad in the frosty air.
Hard by where the skipper-ssdhooner lay,
A fisherman's cottage looked a^^ ay
Over isle and bay, and behind
On mountains dim-defined;
And there twin sisters, fair and young
Laughed with their stranger guest and sun.
In their native tongue the la>s
Of the old Provenc^al days.
157
xo
15
30
25
30
17.28. Show here and throughmU
theVoen^ the felicity of the epithets.
21-22. last-summer. Explain.
30. sung. Is this form allowable'
31.32. lays-days. Explain.
12. on. Rising inflection. „ ^^^otc " white."
,7..S, Group the words "below g eat h^ll , an p^^^^^ ^^ ^^^
J- SS^:^^^;S^r;^^U°Sie,the frequent necess.t. for
^'t;^ S.:' I^J-Hth the. stranger guest ; " also " sung in their
native tongue."
I5S
ADVANCED READER.
\:\\
Alike were they, save the faint outline
Of a scar on Suzette's forehead fine ;
35 And they both, it so befel.
Loved the heretic stranger well.
Both were pleasant to look upon.
But the heart of the skipper clave to one ;
Though less by his eye than heart
40 He knew the twain apart.
Despite of alien race and creed,
\Vell did his wooing of Marguerite speed ;
And the mother's wrath was vain
As the sister's jealous pain.
45 The shrill-tongued mistress her house forbade.
And solemn warning was sternly said
By the black-robed priest, whose word
As law the hamlet heard.
>s '
f-TTf
10 n
But half by voice and half by signs
50 The skipper said, " A warm sun shines
On the green-banked Merrimac ;
Wait, watch, till I come back ;
"And when you see from my mast-head
The signal fly of a kerchief red,
55 My boat on the shore shall wait ;
Come, when the night is late."
41. alien — creed. Explain fully.
45-46. Criticise the rhyme.
50-51. "A — Merrimac." Why
does the skipper iiiention this ?
52. Observe the initial spondaic
effect. (12, IV., 4.)
33. Emphatic pause after "alike."
35. Read the parenthetic clause in a slightly lower pitch; return on
loved " to the pitch of " both." Pause after " stranger."
37. Read " look upon " as one word. 46. Slowly and with solemn tone.
50-56. For the skipper's words use a gentle tone and fast time.
WIIITTIER.
M.-.ei,hea.ahduiahooa'sh=unUsanafvK.nas.
ta.llU.atthehon.cskyove.-bcnas.
Diaevervounii love tail
To turn the tremblmk' scale .
TT lor the ni-ait. on the wet sea sanas.
Unaer the m.n . ij^^^^.a hands ;
SloNvlv unclaspea then pli^n
One to the cottage hearth
Ana one to his sailor s berth.
What ^vas It the partmg lovers heara?
Nor leaf, nor ripple, nor .ingoflna,
But a hstener-s stealthy treaa
On the rock-moss, cnsp and dca^\.
He weighed his anchor, ana hshejl once n.ore
SaiLa'back to the Islaiuls .even.
In the sunset's glow the sisters twain
Saw he i3--- come sailing m again,
Said Suzette," Mother, dear.
The heretic's sail is here.
. Go, Marguerite, to your rocnnai^V^^^^^^
Your door shall be bohea ! the moti
While Suzette, lU at ease
Watched the red signj^TtheJi'-.c .
bends;' Note Jm of sentence.
150
60
65
70
75
80
63-64. Criticise rhyme
tence.
Account for this form of son-
57.64 Gentle tone expressing sadness. One. (HI. 8. '•)
S.Quic^ and in a starred t.ne^^^^^^^^^
67 . stealthy tread. Slo^^ i> . an
73. Change to narrative, pure tone^ expressing excitement . the
75-77. Head Suzette^s .orc^ ^^L'to^eoV command.
„.other;s, -Uh loud force a ^^^^ .^.^_ ^^^^.^ ,„„..
"8
ers, unth loud tor<^^- narrative, pure tone.
the mother cried, cnaage
1
"mi
go
95
160 Ani'AXCED READER.
At midnif^'ht, down to the waitinfir skiff
Slic stole in the sliadow of the cHff;
And out of the J^jay's mouth ran
The schooner witli maid and man.
And all night long on a restless bed,
Her prayers to the \'irgin ]\Iarguerite said ;
And thought of her lover's pain
Waiting for her in vain.
Did he pace the sands ? Did he pause to hear
The sound of her light step drawing near ?
And, as the slow hours passed.
Would he doubt her faith at last ?
But when she saw, through the misty pane,
The morning break on a sea of rain.
Could even her love avail
To follow his vanished sail ?
Meantime the Breeze, with favoring wind,
Left the rugged Moisie hills behind,
And heard from an imseen shore
The Falls of Manitou roar.
On the morrow's morn, in the thick, gray weather,
They sat on the reeling deck together.
Lover and counterfeit
Of hapless Marguerite.
85. restless bed. Explain. (12,
IV., 17.)
<S8. Waiting. What is the irregu-
larity in the use of this word ?
89-96. Cf. 11. 65 and 107.
94. sea of rain. Explain, and 1 here.
quote a similar expression from
" Ireson's Ride."
101-102. Scan and note the Ono-
matopoetic effect of the hypermet-
rical syllables. Quote phrases from
Ireson's Ride" similar to those used
85-S6, Pronounce slowly " all night long." Pause after " Virgin."
89-92. Slow time. (III., 4.) 95. Which word is emphatic ?
WIUTTIEIi.
lf)I
105
no
115
l»o
Witli a lover-s hand, from lu-r fordu-ad tan.
He smoothed away her jetdiUick luin .
What was it his fond eyes met .
The scar of the false Su/ette !
Fiercely he shouted : " Hear away
Eastd)y-north for Seven 1,-les I'.ay!
The maiden wept and prayed,
But the ship her helm obeyed.
Once more the Bay of the Isles they found :
They heard the bell of the chapel sound,
And the chant of the dyin^^ sun-
In the harsh, wild Indian tongue.
A feehn- of mystery, change, and awe
Was in all they heard and all they saw ;
Spelbbound the hamlet lay
In the hush of its lonely bay.
\nd when ihev came to the cottaffe door.
The mother rose up from her weepmg soie,
And with angry gestures met
The scared look of Suzette.
- Here is your daughter," the skipper said ;
" Give me the one 1 love instead.
But the woman sternly spak( .
" Go, see if the dead will wake ! "'
He looked. Her sweet face still and white
And strange in the noonday taper light.
She lay on her little bed,
With the cross at her feet and head.
,r I 120- MO He looked. Accouni for
107. Cf. 11. 57-00 and 65. tins sh.fn s"noncc. Parse '• face.
117. What is peculiar in the use j^^'^^j^-,^ ••noonday taper h^nt
of " feeling" ? _^
:o7. Express surprise. loy-iio. ^-^-'^ ^-^-'':'^ ^''"^ .^
11,. Pauseafter "chapel.' 117-X20. Lo.^ pitch, gentle force.
129-132. Gentle force, low pitch, slow tune.
125
130
ii
1 62
«35
140
M5
150
155
ADVANCED READEI^-
In a passion of K'ri^f the stron- man IhmU
Down to lur face, and. kissni- it, went
Back to the waiting,' liirczc,
Back to the mournful seas.
Never a^^ain to the Merrimac
Ana Newbury's homes that barque came back.
Whether her fate she met
On the sliores of Caraciuette,
Miscou. or Traca(he, wlio can say ?
B,ut even vet at Seven Isles Bay
Is toUl the ghostly tale
Of a weird, mispoken sail,
In the pale, sad light of the Northern day
Seen by the blanketed Montagnais,
Or squaw, in her small kyack.
Crossing the spectre's track.
On the deck a maiden wrings her hands :
Her likeness kneels on tlie gray coast sands .
One in her wild despau",
And one in the trance of prayer.
She flits before no earthly blast.
With the red sign fluttering from her mast.
Over the solemn seas,
The ghost of the schooner /irtvsc .
136. Back. Why repeated? Note
its position in 1. li^-
144. unspoken. Explain^
150. Parse " gray."
156, Parse "ghost."
144. UHi'l'"— ' ^ A •'
, cassifv ■■ Skipper Ucon's RMe.' and ■•The Bay of Seven I.Und,.
""? •Sir.rr'racl^SVrwr.Uer .o .he=e pocs e.e.p,.fy ' Refer
5. Memorize "The Bay of Sevenlslands.
CoMPOSiTinx.
-p--'-'-LS*ir„fY„tp"S-"'-p-^
priate quotations, and showing au api^
the subject.
NATHANIEL HAWTHOKNE.
:^^^-.t.:;!iwher;:. ;L of a.e. I-ns.oH,.aa.posUion ...
llritcd from his mother, .-ho grieved so -- V^" u". li:' Toom F ^ s
that for thirty years she insisted on seclud.ng herself in her room 1 or 5
^mJ^Le af^r graduating at Bo.dom College in ^f 5, Hawthorne, almo
outdid his mother in absolute seclusion, rambling about the ^tr ' ts 1 c
old to.n during the night, and. during .he .lay, *- f "«^ J-'^; ^^^^^ e
wrote. From 183S to 1841 he held an olhce .n the Boston ^^ ^^'« "^^^^^^^
on Ua-="K which he joined the Brook Farm Community. His connection ,0
th 'association soon eased, and he went to live at Concord, in he
old rarsonage house whicn his Mosses f ran, a,. GUI M>u,sc h- -ce n ade
famous. In 184G he obtained the office of Surveyor of the I or of Salem
, ., , ^ , Th, 'i-.rl-f J ,-tfer thp work that established hib
and, while there, wrote T/it- i>c<7f/cf i.jff"', I"- ,,f ,i;c,v>n^iiiL/ .s
reputation. In 1849. as a result of the American mode of dispensing -.
II
1
:i;iti
S! ;' '
I
ADVANCED READER.
b„t on the accession to the 1 resKlcn > ^ ^.^^^^^^ ^.^,^^^,, ,^^ i^.vorpoul,
whose biography he had ^^J'"'^"' ,f ' "' ,i,;,;, V.^ a time on the Continent,
This olhce in. resigned '" ;«57. a^^^ ^ nx ^ ^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^^._. ^^„^, ,
,o on his return to the ^'^''-Vw the titU- of Our OUl Ih.nc. H.s death
iinoressions of England, u.-Jcr tne ui
impress. , ^ H.. May I'Jth, iW>4.
occurred at l lymomn, .i. .
,^ c/, ,» , . ( 18 '8\ • A somewhat crude, though power-
V^^^-^-^^-^'l^T^, curiosity, InU never afterwards
ful romance, for some tunc a ''^^ •^^> ^ ^^ cc'lection of stones
,5 acknowledged by the author. ^ --"^^^^ ^t n of several series, the first
written originally for magazines, and conM u . ^ ^^^^^^.^^^ ,,f
of which appeared ,n 1837. ^^^\^ "V/„. ^carUi LeiUr (1850) : An
tales and sketches similar to ^ - P -^^^^^^ ,,,,,, ,„,ewhat
intensely interesting and l-^ ; ^^^^'^fj ^^^^ , ,„,! the length of the
30 marred, perhaps, by the V^^^^^^,, ^L. (185:) : A work remark-
introductory matter. / he House oJVu^ ^^^bodying his Salem experiences
able for its portraiture °ff;-7;;";,^tu"( 85'). founded on the socialist
and observations. The BhIhM Ro,u,u^^ ^„,',/humor with the deepest
experiment at Brook Farm, ^;-^'^r^'^\tXlr^L. is Hawthorne's greatest
35 pathos : according to many Z'^-"^.";' f^.^j " "s Utes as The Mnrble Faun
creation. Transformation, known m the UnUu^b^ ^.^^^ ^^^^ ^^^
^^o,^^^^^-^^-;^r:^Z^^^^^^- in tone, but
Our OUl Home (186 ) . ^ P-du^U ^. ^^^ ^^^^^^^^ ^^ ^,., ,
charmingly composed. The L//. oj u ,^-;,,, ^,,„,, i,naiic, 1 he
,0 wrote also at various ^--^ ^^^^^f ,;^, /.^^L fro. Wstory an.l Blo-
^;^:'^L:::fZ::;:. rKor:::le and .. vommes of .s ^ote-Books
have been published.
C..c...-Hawthorne is an ------ "^^^^
,, According to Lowell, he ts the ^^^^^^^ „f ,„,,Hcan prose authors,
and, in the estimation of many, ^\^ ^^J ^J";; ^^^^ ,„„,t of his works ; an air
Quaint fancy and dreamy ^^^^''^'^^^^^^J':;;'^', ^n idealization about his
S mystery broods over every --^ '^f^^J.^^^;;^,;;:. These qunlities. com-
characters that makes them ^-'"^'^^^,,,,,on, an almost morbid
50 bined with admirable art keen and ^ ^^^^^ °^^f ^j ^^e workings of the
' love of the supernatural, and a deep 1^"°^^^^^^^ ° ,, ,,i„^, m his
human soul, impart ^ P-^^^-^/^^:;^/:::^,, Ldts and forced ana^
shorter tales one sometimes --^^ ;f ^^ ^^^^ ^ a rich poetic imagination,
gies, but the f^ner ones show that ^e POSse -e F^^^^ .^ ^^.^ ^^^^^^
55 '.Hawthorne had --^^'^-'^^:^l^'^2^2. forms of sorrow. Through
sublimated by constant '^""^'^^V^ '^^^^ """^^^^^i truths to which he might
worldly loss he came to an insight -^ P-^^^^^^ ^/^^ ^.^^^ncity of his life
::^^Str ^;:^K:X^UhoughL moraUst, moral problems are
60 perpetually before his mmd.
H-4U'77/OKA7:.
«^>5
DAVID SWAN-A FANTASY
iMoiu " Tsvicu-Tolil T.ilcs."
?' - . 1 wluch come rlose upon us, y<-l f.ule away vvUh-
„,aylK-c^lkHl N luchcc ^^^.^. ,,^.^^^ approach by ^
,„t actual rosvUts. «'^^^;^;^ ^^^^^^^^^^ our ininds. Could
the reflection of any h^ht or ^^^l'^ ,^4. . ,,,,„ia u, too
,,e know all the ---'^- j^^^;^ f ^~ .luuu.nt, to am>rcl
full of hope and fear, exultat on or U l i„„,tralrd
„c . sin-de hour of true serenity. 1 h>s uka ma.N
us a single a history of David Swan.
.he age of f.venty, on '-;,">.;::,' J'? Kdl .lea,,' „, .l,e
.he city of Bo^;--. -- 'V;,, 'Xul the .ountc. IV i.
«'"™7 '"!;";,; was a mrnve of New Ha.np.Wre, h..rn .
rt:^a^;;r;i^^ ana ;■- ^e<^-- ---i::;;;;;:!
a.,ca.,on -;;;^;'„;; --„^^" ::\„'J .'onr^unn^e .„, neaHy
aeternuned him to s,t .own -^^^^f^ _^™^|,. ,,, ,, ,„,nte,,
await tl« eom.ng up of the hrit stafc
on purpose for him, there soon appeare a Mlet^U^^
witlr a aeUghtful reress tn the .nulst amah a .^
sprms, that ,t seeme.l "-" '° j^'^'-.t ^ H w'th his tlirsty .
"TTT^nl 11-14 We-counter. Why not'
LiTERARY.-What IS mr.ant by a 1 " J^^ j. c'riticise this .xprcs
"Fintasv"? Give the other form 1 grocery imc.
ofthe word, and account for the s>on, (ij, l- i.')
doublet. - ■ -" "'*"- "^ *^
ao-2i. determined. What .s the
other use of this word ? ^^hy '^ !
correct to omit "to "before await
)Ui)iei.
3-4. if-called. Why is this clause
inserted ?
C. the-minds. Express this idea ; ^^,^^^, ^^^^^
without using fi^-'-^tive language. I ^ .5^ Davd^Swai.^.^^.^^ ^^ ^^^„
T Tr> WbTt characteristic ot tne 1 mm • ' .• .„ _„,,*„,it
amli^ ^s t^is paragraph dlus- ; from the prcc.dm. cnn...x .
trate ?
;ll
m
Il
i6G
AIU'ANCEP h'EADKK.
^ !,
,1... Kr-iiK-lies wavcil (liwunllv arross llic I^Uh sk> o\cr
!i;:i:L: Ml ;.;!;..' u'vi'lS. a,,. 1,„. w. .>„..., rela.e evens
wide, wake, an.l pass,-,! ,„ a,„l fro. alo... on h.,rsel.a ,
a,„l in all sorts of vdiiclcs, alouK ll.e sunny roa.l l.> h s lee
n , . Son.e lookcl nei.her to theriuht hmul nor the ft,
thonKh.s; so.ne lan«hed to see l,ow soun.l ly - ^^l''; ^ '^
several, whose hearts were brnnnnn« fnl of ^^^^^
their venonionssnperllnitynponl.avul Sua,. '^ ''"'*• ■"
, 11 1.;-. «•'!< nc-ir thrust her licad <i iiiiit
"::;;;";:;:rr:^:'L:;™:::^ :--->•; «re^w.oo.e.,
^rh;^r:;^riL::ir=n:=f-^^^^^
1\;. nl instince of aeacl-dmnkeiiness by the road-sule.
^j;:":,;;::' ;™X,nerri,ne,.t, .. m^a,,.. ,n.hnerence were
^■''.^:risero:"'n.n,::::tr:-hrownearria.e
-ristosiniei ■";: -r- x!;^ li^i^r;"
the harmonious Melod>. (13, m. i ^ what distinction is here made
ant^ 2.) ! . ^ : M lecture " and "discourse " ?
'^r;;:'szmarJT:s.s'^^.-"..
//.iir/7/<'K.N/.
f-::;:^,;^J=;:;;:;::::i;:::-::^^;";
^'':lH:;vsounaivlu.sl.epsr-wlu..reclOK...M^^^^^^^^
.. ,,: n what a depth 1. draws tha, oasy b.^at S P
. ,lr,t l,rou<'ht on \villu)Ut an opiate. NVouUl U. Nvoith n>
;: ;!;: thr;^inny incon., for it . nUa .^^^^^^^^^
^^":tr;o!:l"sL."saMt,u.Ul. •• n.aUhy ana .pu.
, ; cl..<.n thus Our shuu r. IS no morr h.^- lus
i\^e aocs not sleep tnus.
than our wakefidness.- ^j^^^.^.,^ couple ;5
Th.> louLUT they looKecl,tne more ^ -
ha, a stray sunbcan, .U.nmcr.. 'l"-'';-';^;^ •,'"„;! ..
a motlier to hun. .. j^^^ ^^.,-^.a she
^^loviaence seems to have lata hmi '\\''\ \ , j^;,,^
to her husbana, ''ana to have brought u^ '^'^^", ^j u i «,
after our a.sappou.ment in ..^.n. -;;;;-^^^;^ -j;;;,-- '^
see a hkeness to our aeparteel Heni> . ^"' '\ . ^Ve
^•To what purpose?- said the merchant, hesitating,
know nothin;4 of the youth's character
..That open countenance!" rephed h, ^ wife, m the
hushed voi e, vet earnestly. " This n.noc.nt sleep!
90
...,awe him. ^ ^^^ ^^^' ^^1^:^':^ n:^'rL ^l'^
'^:'Tt-^ KM'lain the a^.iayed ? See Cr.ucal estunat., U.
fio',/re.' Note a touchof Hawthorne's 510-
neruliar mood in the use of - brood- 83-100. Show that m, ^'^ .^ -^
ine ■• See Critical estimate, 11. 47-49- between the merchant and h • ..ue i-.
80-8. And -him. Explain the generally speaking, true to hfc.
lii
•iiH
!•!
'HI
1 68
.IDVAXCEn READER
While tliese whispers were passinp^, the sleeper's heart did
not throb, nor his breath become a<,Mtated, nor his features
betray the least token of interest. Vet Fortune was bendinj,^
over him, jtist ready to let fall a burden of fj^old. The old
95 merchant had lost liis only son, and had no lieir to his wealth
except a distant relative, with whose conchict he was dis-
satistied. In such cases, people sometimes do stran^^er thinj^^s
than to act the magician, and awaken a young man to splen-
dor, who fell asleep in poverty.
loo "Shall we not waken him?" repeated the lady, persua-
sively.
"The coach is readv, sir," said the servant, beliind.
The old couple started, reddened, and hurried away,
mutuall}^ wondering that they should ever have dreamed of
105 doing anything so very ridiculous. The merchant threw him-
self back in the carriage, and occupied his mind with the plan
of a magnificent asylum for unfortunate men of business.
Meanwhile, David vSwan enjoyed his nap.
The carriage could not liave gone above a mile or two,
iio when a pretty young girl came along with a tripping pace,
which showed precisely how her little lieart was dancing in
her bosom. She turned aside into the shelter of the maple-
trees, and there found a yoimg man asleep by the spring !
rUushing as red as any rose, that she should have intruded,
"5 she was about to make her escape on tiptoe. I^ut there was
peril near the sleeper. A monster of a bee had been wander-
ing overhead — buzz, buzz, buzz — now among the leaves, now
flashing through the strips of sunshine, and now lost in the
dark shade, till finally he appeared to be settling on the eyelid
120 of David Swan. The sting of a bee is sometimes deadly. As
free-hearted as she was innocent, the girl attacked the intruder
with her handkerchief, brushed him soundly, and drove
him from the ma]>ie-shade. How sweet a picture! This good
deetl accomplishetl, with quickened breath and a deeper
gi-04. While— gold. Cf. 11. 3-9. 104. mutually. Is this word cor-
10/. The— away. Explain the /ectly used here?
reason for this conduct. In what 109-150. See 11. 217-221.
had thev been indultiinc? .\rronnt
for this display of feeling. 120-126. Cf. 11. 78-S2.
HA\VTH()R\r..
I (xj
1,1,,,:,, she stole a glance at the yofthf.tl stratlRer. for who,,, ,.,
she l,a.l hee„ l,atth„K with a <lrat!o., ". the a,, .
■ ..neisha,«lso„,e!- tho„Kht she. a„.n.U,she.l .e.kle, >.l.
How ccUl it be that „o drea,,, of '■!-» «--,«' ^l™';'
witl,i,i hi,,,, that, sl,attere,l by its very strength, ,t sho„l,l >.„,
,,Ir a, a allow him to perce.ve the g„l a„,„ng .ts phan- .„
;", , > Whv, at least, .li.l no sn,ile of welco,„c ,r,gl,te„ „pon
,T arc? She was co,ne, the n.ai.l whose sonl ac.-onhng to
eoia a,„l bean.if.,1 idea, had been severed tro.u h,s own
, d whont. in all his vagne bnt passionate des.res he yea,,
to „,eet. Her only conld he love w,th a perfeet l„ve---h,n, ■,.
l:, V conld she receive ,nto the depths o.^ he,^ '-",'-;;'«> ^^
l,er" intake was faintly blnshing ,n the fonntan, b> Ins s,.le .
shottld i^ pass away, its happy htstre wonld never glean, „pon
his life a<,^ain.
-How sound he sleeps!" munnured the -ul.
She departed, btit did not trip alon- the road so lightly as
when she came. , .
Now, this girl-s father was a thrivin- country merchant n
the ne„d.borhood, and happened, at that -i^'^^'-^r:!;;' ;^ .^^
be lookin, out for just such a younf,Mnan as D.u ul S. an ...
Had David formed a wayside acquaintance wUh 'h' ^^'^ ^^ "
ter, he would have become the father s clerk, and all elsc^
. • c. l...r^. i<rnin had L^ood tortune — the
natural succession, bo here, aga n, naci ^ Uru^hod
best of fortunes-stolen so near, that her ^^irments brushed
aLrainst him; and he knew nothing ot the matter.
^Tl e -nrl was hardlv out of sight, when two men turned
aside beneath the maple-shade. Both had dark -es se o t
bv cloth caps, which were drawn down aslant oscr hu
brows. Their dresses were shabby, yet they had a certain
!::°::t;ess. These were a couple of rascals who got their lm,>g ■.
by whatever the devil sent them, and now, m the interim ot
other business, had staked the joint profits of their next piece
of villainy on a game of cards, which was to have been de-
'm
i<;
ii-!
lifj
What 141-14^ She- came Wl.y' Ton-
trast the Kirls conduct u.th that
,,f "the eklerlv Rcntleman and nis
140. sound. Cf. Nvithf.7. Account "\. \r ''""' ^ ^
otvmolni<ically for both forms. ''^' '
133. old— idea. Explain
proverb expresses this idea '
' I
\
i
ijfi'
'{ it
m
i'
*.ii
i' ■)
il
' I
1* 1
(t.
i!
170
.-/ /; / 'ANCED READER.
cidecl here uiulcr tlic trees. But, findiiif,^ David asleep by the
160 si)rin<,s one of the rogues whispered to his fellow—
"Hist! Do you see that bundle under his head?" '
The other villain nodded, winked, and leered.
"I'll bet you a horn of brandy," said the hrst, "that the
chap has either a i)ocketd)ook or a snug little hoard of small
'65 change stowed away amongst his shirts. And if not there,
we shall find it in his pantaloons" pocket."
"l-iut how if he wakes?" said the other.
His companion thrust aside his waistcoat, pointed to the
handle of a dirk, and nodded.
'70 "So be it!" muttered the second villain.
They approached the unconscious David, and, while one
pointed the dagger towards his heart, the other began to
search the bundle beneath his head. Their two faces, grim,
wrinkled, and ghastly with guilt and fear, bent over Uieir
175 victim, looking horribly enough to be mistaken for fiends,
should he suddenly awake. Nay, had the villains glanced
aside into the spring, even they would hardly have known
themselves, as reflected there. But David Swan had never
worn a more tranquil aspect, even when asleep on his
iSo mother's breast.
"1 must take away the bundle," whispered one.
" If he stirs, I'll strike," muttered the other.
But at tliis moment, a dog, scenting along the ground,
came in beneath the maple trees, and gazed alternately at
185 each of these wicked nien, and then at the quiet sleeper. He
then lapped out of the fountain.
"Pshaw!" said one villain. "We can do nothing now.
The dog's master must be close behind."
" Let's take a drink and be off," said the other.
190 The man with the dagger thrust back the weapon into his
bosom, and drew forth a pocket-pistol, but not of that kind
which kills by a single discharge. It was a flask of liquor,,
with a block-tin tumbler screwed upon the mouth. Each
175. horribly. Criticise for
111.
1S3-1S6. Cf. 11. G-9,
17S-1S0. But^breast. Cf. 11. y.y. the WfcrenJe
IIAUTIIOKM-:
171
hank
a coi
nfortablc dram, ai
I left the spot, with so many
.;sts, and snch hiu^ditev at
their unaccomphshed wickednes;-
SS, I,
that they m
IL^
lit be said to have
-•one on tlieir way rejoici
nt
In a few hours the_\
hev had forgotten the wlu^le aitair, nor once
imaKiiitH
crime ot nui
I that the recording' ange
\ had written down the
rder
a' Ml
list tlieir souls, in U'ltrrs as
tlurable as
I'ternity
conscious o
As for David Swan, he still slept .piic
•tl
\, neither 2^0
f the shadow of death when it hun- over hnn. nor
I life when that shadow was wilh-
!05
)f the glow of renewec
'^'ir^lept, but no longer so (,uietly as at lirst. An hour-s re-
pose had snatched from his elastic frame the weariness with
Hieh many hours of toil had bur<lened U. Now he stirred
!^;;ow mov'ed his lips, without a sound-now talked m an in-
ward tone to the noonday spectres of his dream. 1 .u a no sc
t- wheels came rattling louder and louder along the road.
It^ dashed through the dispersing mist of 1 avid s s u.n- .„o
ber-and there was the stage-coach. Me started up. with all
his ideas about him. _
"Hallo, driver! Take a passenger.^ shouted he.
"Room on top!" answered the driver.
Up mounted David, and bowled away merrily towards Bos- ..
ton without so nnich as a parting glance at that ountam o
";Idike vicissitude. He knew not that a phaiitoin o
W^aUh had thrown a golden hue upon its -aters, nor t a
one of Love had sighed softly to their murmur, nm that o, c
^f Death had threatened to crimson them with 1- ; - ' ^ '
,nthe brief hour since he lay down to sleep. Skcpm.oi
u,S..oo. recording -eternity. Dc ' ^..7. dream-like vicissitude. I'ar.-
vdopthisstau.nKni. ^"',"":,, He sleep. Note that
200. neither. Criticise posUion. ^^^r^ sentence c havacletizes the main
,02-^0^ glow-withdrawn, Kx- incidents of the tale. Ohs.rvethe
plain.' Show that this sialenienl is hij,'hly poetical lan«ua-e.
characteristic of the author. 220. all. I'arse.
.06-208. Now--dream. Explain ,.:-,,_,. Sleeping happen^ H;-
fuflv (I' IV II.) C-ontrast this has the author exprcs>e>l this thou^nt
sentence with the next. (13. IH., 1 before >
n^^fX,) ,,i..i7. fominent on this m the
' .„:,:,. until^-slumber. Explain li.ht of Critical estimate Jl 5S-O0.
- - . . ^ L.splain ■av.al.il'i' , 1 --,••
the tiguralive language.
! '^i.'l
ill
iiii:
r,i'!
i:
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I" ■
ii
if' »l
172
ADVANCED READER.
wakin<,s we hear not the airy footsteps of .the stranj^e thin-i^'s
that ahiiost liappen. Does it not argue a superintencHn'--
Providence, that, while viewless and unexpected events thrust
^^5 themselves continually athwart our path, there should still he
regularity enough in mortal life to render foresight even par-
tiall}' available ?
1. Show tliat "David Swan" is more than a mere "Fantasy."
2. State the general proposition which Hawthorne illustrates by the
talc, and his practical application of the conclusion he reaches.
3. What moral lessons may we learn from " David Swan" ? See 11. 6-9,
and Z2y22~.
4. Refer to the Critical estimate of Hawthorne's Renins (p. 165), and
show to what extent this tale develops his chief peculiarities.
Composition.
Reproduce " David Swan " without introducing direct narrative.
!.
i
'1,
ii
ii
:ii
Ji', t
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
CumminRton. n remote country ^^^^^J'^X.'A.na hills. With a pre-
vouth amid th - beautUul -'^"->- ^^f^^,^;^;;!, Z,c of thirteen a political
cocity that rivals Pope's he ---^^ [^ Z^^^,^;;, l^,,, , two years' course 5
poem, published unde. the tule of ^ J'^^^J^.^ ^,,,, i„, ,aw seems to
lu WaUams College, he began h.s I'-J' '^^^^ ^„^ ^f ,,, ,„,„y poe.ns
have been distasteful to h.m; for '" ^' ;' J^ ;^',i,, „f „i, profession, he
^vritten during the ten years spent m the prac
speaks of himself as ^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^_.^^^ ^,^ „,^„,
Anascra.^:t,an,c.vo,a,wUUthob..b.uous.cn.
He removed to .e. Vor. tn tS^, -t^r^;;^;:;";'^
but at first without much success. ^;';^^^ j,J ,„,\„,ction with wh.ch
becoming editor of the A.a^ ^ ';''; ;• V ,;^^i ^iil his death. He made .5
t
m '
I
'L
^ il
5 1 1 if
'' ^'
iMui •
f
'
1/4
-inj'.lXCFD NE.\nEh\
journeys, evidencing' keen observation an<l just appreciation of \u,n-
Se ectjons frotn ti.ese and fron, so„,e of his other liters .1 ti^^Z^^
published iin.ler the title of Letter, of a Tnnrller 1 atterk- ho , i ,
^o the talent of delivering discourses L the H;!^ an. t U . ^ ^.^^
men. His death took place in June, i,S;,S. ^>»'nent
PKiNCPAr. WoKKs.-77,„.„A,/,.v/... The highest expression of his .H>ni,K
unt en at the early a«e of nineteen, and originally ^blished in h;^ ^
Anurnan AV...-., wth tl,e hrst nntnber of which (Septend.er, .S17) A,„ ,.
Tl nth r V ' """v" "' '"' '-^PP— '^ it showed the genius o
lu .iuthor. Ihr A,,r,s: A survey of tnan's experience, a ntore ambitions
Performance than the preceding, written in L Spenserian stanza n,
3on,a,{ and 0,/yss.r .n blank verse (1SG9 and i.S;:), and short poen"is a
var.ous t.u,es, some of them-as, for instance, the /./.,,, to a IvJteZl
ossessmg great lyr.cal beauty. His poetry, introdnced to h^ {^: ^ii
pubhc by Uash.ngton Irving, was favorably not.ced by Christie
^orth ,n the pages of Blacku^ood's Ma.a.ine. In conjunction with S H
.. .ay, he began >n 1S7G A Popular History of tlu- Unitai State In M.
ed tonal and other capacities he wrote a good deal of prose, bu his rep ,
tation as a poet has overshadowed his prose works. ^
Ckiticai -iJryant whose works are .nainly contemplative and descrin
tue, resembles Wordsworth ,n his love for Nature, and in the tX
40 pens.veness that marks almost all he has written, even when the sd^c
is a joyous one. The former quality is, perhaps, the result of hi yo h
rch^ ;::ri:U s'^^l^r"' "' '" T'^' '^-^--^ ^^- remaineHne^
n s cnaractcnstics. I hey are not, however, associated with a lack of
human sympathy. Many of his poems display no marked ori'nali tv bu
'' ':::^::Z;:::'V'' ^"^^^ and mcid-tll outcome, no ^bl'lf h
ea.u> and ^raccfull> . Passionate energy never shows itself but there is
X'of'?/'" 7T' 1 "'^ --P-'^--- He is best kno. ^ a 1^
30 ulatllL'tt^S^"' "^ ^■^"''" '^^°'"*- °^ -''^' '^ -""- ^e said
BRYAXT
/ 3
TO A WATI'RI-OWL.
Wiirnii-.K, 'midst falliiiji; dvw.
While i;l()\v tlie hcaviMis with the last sti'ps ot day
Far tlirou,<,di their rosy depths dost thou pursue
Thy soUtary way ?
N'ainlv the towler's eye
Mijrht niark'thy distant tli-lit to do thee xvron-,
As?darkly Hnmed on the criniscni sky,
Thv hi^'ure floats alonj<.
Seek"st thou the phisliy brink
Of weedy lake, or marf(e of river wide,
Or where the rocking' billows rise and sink
On the chafed ocean side ?
There is a power whose care
Teaches thy way alon-^ that pathless coast,—
The desert and illimitable air,—
Lone wandering, but not lost.
All day thy wings have fanned.
At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere;
Vet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
Though the dark night is near.
IS
I , !
Literary.— Describe the versiti- 1
cation. What is peculiar in the ,
(juatrain? Scan 11. 1-4. I
Under what circumstances is this ,
poem supposed to be written? De-
scribe the poet's mood. Is it char-
acteristic of him? See Critical es-
timate, 1. 40.
1. falling dew. Why not "balmy
dew " ?
2. Why is "glow" more suitable
than "shine"? How is the poet's
idea carried out in 1. 3? What are
... the l.-ist steps of day " ? Figure ?
4-8. Why not substitute "unat-
tended" for "solitary," "sports-
man's" for "fowler's," and "body
tlies" for "figure floats"?
7 limned. other readings are
"painted" and "seen." Which is
the best? crimson. See 1. 3. Ac-
count for the ,-dlered epithet.
9-12. Show the appropriateness of
"plashv brink," "marge," "r'«^k--
ing," and "chafed." Parse "chafed.
14. Why is "teaches" better than
" marks out " ? Explain " coast."
' 16. Lone wandering. I'.irse.
I 17-20. Show the appropriateness
i of "fanned," "thin" and •• stoop.
I Parse "stoop" and "weary."
f
Iiiiii
I
■iV I
ill* '
! ,
176
ADVAiVCEI) READER.
as
30
And soon that toil shall end ;
Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest,
And scream anion-,' thy fellows; reetls shall bend
Soon o'er thy shelter'd nest.
Thou'rt Kone; the abyss of heaven
Hath swallow'd up thy form; ^yet on my heart
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
And shall not soon depart.
He who, from zone to zone,
Guides throuj,di the boundless sky thy certain liif^dit.
In the \o\Y^ way that I must tread alone.
Will leatl ni}' steps aright.
THANATOPSIS.
To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language ; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
21-J4. that toil. What:' Remark
on the use of "soon," and "shall "
in the stanza.
25-26. Thou'rt gone. Why a
shori sentence ? J?rin,t,' out the force
of " swallow'd." abyss of heaven.
In what other form has the author
expressed this idea?
26. yet. (iive the full force of this
word. on. Should this be "in"?
State reasons for your choice.
28, What word should be sup-
plied if this were prose?
30. Guides— sky. How expressed
before? certain flight. (12, IV',, 34.)
See
31- I— alone. Explain fully
Critical estimate, 11. 40-43,
What is meant by " Thanatopsis " ?
De.scribe the versification and scan
11. 1-4, Note the tone of the poem,
and the harmonious melody of the
vowel sounds. (13, III., i and 2.)
1-8. To him— aware. Paraphrase,
so as to brinf(out the meaning clearly.
How is the " various language " ex-
emplified? \v'hat characteristic of
the author is here displayed ?
Ei.ocuTioN..\RY.— A grave selection. The prevailing quality is therefore
pure, rising into Orotund in the most sublime passages; the force gentle
or moderate; the pitch, low; the time, slow; and the stress, median,
I. I\ause after "him "
3-5. Emphasize "various." Read " for— beauty" in a tone expressive of
gaiety and gladness.
BRYANT.
17
And (-loqiKMirc of beauty; and slir -lidcs
Into his (larktT musing's with a mild
And healiiiK sympathy tliat slrals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thou'^dits
Of the last bitter liour eoin(> hke a blij^dit
Over thy spirit, and sad inia^^es
Of the stern ajj;ony, and shroud, and i)all,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house.
Make thee to shudder, and .s^^row sick at heart; —
Co forth under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around—
Karth and her waters, and the depths of air -
Comes a still voice.— Yet a few days, and thee
The albbeholdiuK sun shall see no more
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ^aound,
Where thy pale form is laid with numy tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist
Thy ima<,a\ Earth, that nourished thee, shall clann
Thy ^a-owth, to be resolved to earth a^'ain,
And,"lost each human trace, surrendering' up
Thine incHvidual beings shalt thou <^o
To mix for ever with the elements,—
To be a brother to the insensible rock,
And to the sluKf^dsh clod, which the rude swain
15
as
I •:
S-13. How is man's dread of death
emphasized ? (12, IV., 2, 9 and 10.)
i:xplain the epithets, " bitter." " sad "
and "stern." Remark on the order
of the words in 11. 11 and 12.
17. still voice. Whose? Whence
did the poet borrow the epithet ?
10-22. nor— image. Classify this
sentence, accounting for the poet's
choice.
20. is laid, 'riii^ was originally
'■ was laid." Which is the better ;-
22-30. Point out the climactic
structure. (12, IV., 33.)
23. Explain "growth," and parse
" to be resolved. "
24. Parse "trace" and "surrend-
ering." Criticise "surrendering
up,"
27-28. Explain "brother' anci
"sluggish."
5-8. and she glides— aware. Soft force.
9-13. Change to a tone of sadness and gloom.
14-17, Read with higher pitch than the preceding.
17. Commence " Yet a few days," etc, with monotone,
M
(111,6,)
*!
iii
M-
t i
!. , . .
IPI
1
3
^
M
30
35
17S ^i/)r.i.\r/i/) a'/-:.'IP/:a'
Tunis with his shaiv. and treads upon. The oak-
Shall srnd his roots abroad, and pierce thy niouKl.
Yet not to thine eternal resliuK-place
Shalt thou retire alone: -nor couldst thou wish
Couch more uiaunilKcnt. Thou sha'^, lie down
\\'ith patriarchs of the infant world— with kui^^s,
The powerful of the earth— the wise, the Kood,
Fair forms, and hoar\- seers, of af,'es past.
All in one mij^dit)' sepulchre.— The hills
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun ; the vales
Stretchin.L,' in j^ensive quietness between;
The venerable woods ; ; i\crs that move
In majesty, and the comolainiiif,' brooks
That make the meadows ;,'reen ; and, poured round all,
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, —
Are but the solemn decorations all
45 Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
Tlie planets, all the infinite host of heaven.
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom. -
40
50
Take the wings
30. What has been so far tlie char-
acter of " Nature's teachings " ?
^i. Now follows the "mild and
healing sympathy." Observe this in
the opening plirase: "thine eternal
resting-place — alone." Contrast with
the "darker musings" of I. 6.
31-72. Observe that the "still
voice" emphasizes the (juiet rest,
the companionship, and the general
doom.
37-43. Develop the expressive-
ness of all the epithets. Why not
"prattling," "purling," or "chatter-
ing " brooks? Remark on the eflect
of the position of "all," 1. 44.
45-50. The— boso'ii. What bear-
ing have these strUements on the
unity of the paragraph? (12, III.,
I.) Explain "tribes," 1. 49.
50-31. Take— morning. Explain
and account for the Metaphor, and
cf. "still," 1. 17.
32. Emphasize "alone."
37. Pause after "All." 49. Emphasize " handful."
50-54 Read "Take the— dashings " with louder force, faster time and
higher pitch. Notice the change of pitch required on "yet the dead
are there."
liRY.WT
i79
Of in<)riun.LC, and tlie Haic.-ui ilcscrt pirrce,
Or lose thyselt" in the contiimous woods
Where loHs the Oregon, and hears no sound
Save his own tlashin^'s - yi't the dead are there;
And inilUoMS in those sohtudes, since lirst
The flijiht of years bej^an. have laid them down
In tlieir hist sleep— tlie dead there rei.i;n alone.
So shaU thou rest ; and wlial if ihou withdraw
Unheeded by the hvin.i;. and no friend
Take note of thy departure? AU tliat breathe
Will share tiiy destiny. The ^^ay will lau-,di
When thou art };one, the solenni brood of care
Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase
llis favorite pluintoni ; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their eniploynients, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the lon,t,' train
Of a^a'S f,dides away, the sons of men.
The youth in life's green spring, and he wlio goes
In the hill strength of years, matron and maid.
The bowed with age, the infant in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent agi-, cut off.
55
rio
65
70
31. Other readings are " pierce j
the Harcan wilderness," and " trav- |
erse liarca's desert sands." Which \
is the l)est '^ State reasons.
31.3,. Whv has the poet selected
"the Harcan' desert," and "the con- j
tiniious woods where rtjlls the
Oregon"? How is the silence of
the primeval forest brought out ?
57. their last sleep, cf. 11. 31
and 58.
5S. So— rest. Which is the
emphatic word ?
5S-59. Other readings are "with-
drawn in silence from," and "if
thou shall fall unnoticed." Which
is the best ? Give reasons.
5.S-72. What natural Iceling is
here dealt with ?
61. will laugh. Ci. with "shall
leave," 1 <i.|. .\ccount for llie ditter-
ent au.\iliar\-.
62. solemn care, i'araidnase.
63. Their mirth and their employ
ments. Why these?
(17. The original reading was
"glide." Which is the better !'
O7-71. the sons -off. .Vccouni for
the grouping.
70-71
These lines were substi-
tuted by the poet for the original
reading, " And the sweet babe and
I the gray-headed man." Discuss the
! readings.
li'l
61-G2. Contrast "The gay will laugh," with " the solemn brood of care
plod on."
Illl!l:
I ^
I I
:i'::lll!
iSo APVANCi:!) Kl.ADlCK.
Sli.ill (iiic li\ oiir In- f,'a(li( ltd to tlis side,
r.y tlidsc who in lluir liirii shall follow ihcm.
So livi' ill. it, wluii th\ simiiiioiis coiiu's to join
75 'riic iniiiimcrablc caravan that moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall lak(
1 lis cliamher in the silent halls of (le.ilh,
'I'hou f,^o not, like the (juarry-slave, at nii^flit,
Sconr,uji'(l to his (hinf,'eon, but, sustained and soothed
So i'.\ an nnfalterin}^^ trust, approach thy ^'rave,
i.ike one that draws the drapery of his couch
About him, and lii's down to pleasant dreams.
74-S.'. I\i'-\vritt' tills pani^'iniili in i force of tho Siinili;. Observe tlic
prose, briii^;iii^; out tiill\- llic Inri-c of ^ characti-r of the last tlion>,'lit: "but
"Tlic carav.iii - reabii," ami 'His -tlreaiiis," 11. 7<j-<S_>, Cf. " she —
chauibtr — death, " ami explainiiif^ tlic aware," 11. 5-iS,
M
i
1
7J-Si. Oroiiind; very sln\v . (Ill, 4.)
1. Classify "To a Waterfowl " and " Tliaiiatopsis."
2. State the moral lessons conveyed by e.ieh of tnese poems.
3. Refer to Critical estimate (p. 173), and show in detail what peculiari-
ties of Bryant's j,'eniiis therein stated are e.xemplitied in these poems.
4. "Christopher North," in his Essays, expresses the following' opinion
in regard to Bryant: " H.is poetry overflows with natural religion -with
what Wordsworth calls the re''"i(m of the woods." Kxpl.'iin what he
means, and illustrate the critici.-..ii
5. Memorize "To a Waterfowl" and "Thanatopsis," 11. 74-82.
CoMi'OSjITION.
Sketch the train of thougiu in each of the selections from Bryant.
ir •
-- :' «J B l Wi M WWW BB ! |R^^S!^
I.
'■ i:
WASIIINCTON IHNINC.
ISKH.KArmcAi..— Wiishin^K.n Irvin-, wlinsc tauiilv . ;nur ..ri.u'iii.-.Uv iVoin
tl„. Islan.l of Orkney, was horn at Now York, April .^nl, iJ^.V Having
rcccivf.1 a nu-relv dcmentarv education, he he-an th.' stiuly ot law at the
age of sixteen, and amused himself with frequent raiuhlini,' exeursions int..
the surrounding country, thus aciuiring an ii.iimate knowhul-.' of the 5
neighborhood, with its <Mist..msan.l legends. In i.V.j he began to write lor
a newspaper condurK.l bv his brother ; but being threatene.l with lung <bs-
easo, he sailed for Europe in 1S04, and travelled in ilngland and the south
of luirope. On his return to New York, in iSoo, he .nnipleteil his law
studies, without, however, entering either then or afteiw.irds on the prac- 10
tice of his profession. In company with a brother and a friend he began
the publication of a serial called SuhiuiiJ^uihli, which turned out a siiccesstul
venture. Six vears later he conducted another magazine in I'hiladelphia,
contributing to it papi'rs that subse<iuently appeareil in tlu' SLtrh-lio.ik,
and others of his later works. After serving, in 1S14, as aide-de-camp to ,5
Governor Tomkiiis, he again went to Europe tor his health at the close ot
the war. Here he remained for seventeen years, making in the interval
the tour of I-Lurope, and living in Eondon, with occasional rambles in
other parts of England and in Scotland. During his absence he formed
I
m
M
1
>s
1 . ^ ft
i( , 'iiW
i
H ii
i ' !«'J
1
jlflJ
182
.i/>i:i.yc/i/> AWi.i/>/iA:
20 the acjiiainlaiicc of the most iMniiiciU literary men of the day, and wrote
several of his works. In iSj(j lie was appointid Secretary of Legation to
the Court of St. James, and in iS^.- returni'd to New York, where he was
welcomed at a public dinner. His next trij) was west of the Mississippi,
where, as had been his custom, hi; K'HIi'T^'' materials for future labors.
-5 Ma\ int; been appointt'd Minister to Spain in iS.jj, he resided at the Court
of Madrid until iS.if>. The last years of his life were spent at Sunnyside,
on the Hudson, Here he enjoyed tin- society of loving friends and rela-
tives. His tastes were simple and his mode of living,' unostentatious; in
his family relations he was j,'entle, f,'ood-natured, and self-denyinj;. Owing
30 to the early death of the young lady to whom hi' had been engaged, he
remained unmarried, and devoted his income to the support of some
dependent relatives. He died November j8th, 1859, universally lamented,
for he had endeared himself to all who had read his works, or with whom
he had conn' in contact.
^'fiillili
:|
J "
i^ ■!
1
Mi' •
' , i ix
\:'M'.m
ahiiini .
35 l'KiN-iii>AL WoKK<.. —Sii!iiui<;iiii(li ( 1S07) : A fortnightly periodical after the
stvle of the English essayists of the eighteenth century. Kiiicktrhdckcr's
History of .%'<■«• York: An imaginary account of the inhabitants of that
State, with a good deal of sober histt)ry and many whimsical descriptions
of Hutch life and character. Tlif Skifch-Baok : Subsequently published in
40 I'lngland through the influence of Scott. Bi'acibritlf,^- Hall : \ collection
of stories and sketches, in the same style as the preceding. Tin- Talis of a
Travilhr. Tin Life and Voyai:;ts of Cliristoplwr Columbus: The Chronicles
of the Conquest of Gninaila : Toi '((/,'•('.'; of the Companions of Columbus: The
Alhainbva, a sort of Spanish edition of Braccbridire Hall : Mahomet and his
45 Successors .-—the last five being the result of his appointment to Spain. A
Tour on the Prairies, with some European sketches, was issued in a \-olume
entitled The Crayon Miscell<iny. Astoria : \ description of his visits to the
Montreal station of the North-West Fur Company, and an account of
earlv fur-trading expeditions in Oregon by Astor and others. The Life of
5° Goldsmith: An agreeable biography, in which he deals somewhat severely
with Dr. Johnson. Tlie Life of Washington : Irving's last and most
elaborate production. His early works are the most popular, and the
Sketch-Bouk is, on the whole, the best specimen of his varied powers.
CuiTir.M,. — Irving, as Thackeray says, was the first ambassador whom
55 the New World of letters sent to the Old. b'ormed, no doubt, on that of
Addison and Ooldsmith, his stN le is nevertheless largely the reflection of
the man himself —easy, tasteful, genial, pure, and simple. He is one of the
masters of our lighter literature, aiul is e(]ually successful in delineations of
character anil in graphic descriptions of scenery. The skill of the literary
60 artist is seen in the admirable proportions of his compositions: nothing
important is omitted, and nothing unimportant, inserted. The sparkling
humor which pervades his earlier works animates the graver ones of his
later years and lends them an irresistible charm In his stories of domestic
life and descriptions of humble scenes he delights us as much with his
IR\-[SG.
I'^i
(IS and huiiKif as w
ith his correct jud-incnt an.l manly srntiin.'nts r„
nal u>s anil nnnuu ,i> "i-" ■■■■■- j •■ , , .■ r .,,.1,, ,,i,l
Cibly hc= is somrtimcs char^cxMe with ovcr-c.laboratu-n ';^' >^ ' '
L'rous sentiment, InU he is nna,.nbte<lly the n,nst a,s..n..n.he,l -I ,h
Cca^ classics. Rip V,n, UV.H,- an,l SZ-v^v //../A'- de.erve to rank
American
hioh amono- the fictions of ttie present a-e.
!! I
WESTM 1 \ sr 1: K
Aiir. 1: V
l-'roin
Thf Skctcli r.ook
On one of those sober and ralluT nielanrholy
hose
latter part of atitum
e\eninf
(ta\s
,11. w
lien the shadows of iiionuni
ahnost minj;le to^etlier. am
I lluow a ,t;loi>ni over tlie
111 the.
am
th
I
decline of the ye
■ar,
I
asse(
Westminster Abbey. There \yas so
1 several hours in rainblin,t< about
metliinir ron<-;enial to the 5
iful ina";ni
licence of the old pile ; at
I as 1
It seemed
Ke
nintr back into
season in the moii
passed its threslioUh .^ -- ■■ ■ 1 . ,f
r;,ions of antiqntty, and losmg myself amon, the sha.les of
'T^^t^St from the inner conrt of Westminster School .
thron^h a lon^s low, vaulted passa,a-, thai had an almos
st^bterranean look, bem, <limly h,dUed in one part bv cncnhn
;;Lat,ons in the massive walls. Thrcni.h tins ^.v avenue
I ha<l a distant view of the cloisters, with tlie ti^ute oi an Id
verger, in his black -own. moving along tlieir sha.lowy vaults, „
Lit KR.\KV. — Observe the highly
oriiamented and poetical lan-na;;*',
and the harmonv between the tone
of the composition and the character
of the subject. (13. HI-, i '^"'^ -.)
Observe, also, the author's taste in
selecting for his visit a " sober and
rather melancholy day. "
1-9. Classifv the sentences. Note
that the antlior varies with admi-
rable art the character of the sen-
tences in the essay. (13,11,1) What
class of vowel sounds predominates'
Note this peculiarity throu^jhout.
i^-M- circular walls. Why noi
substitute •• round holes in th.; bij^
walls"?
ii-iT). Observe here and through-
out the selectiim the authors skill
in the use of passing' events to
heighten the effect of his descriptions,
and add a pleasing variety to the
character of his meditations.
FiocfTioN uv-A descriptive and medit.itive selection. The prevail-
in J^^udi^y - therefore pure, rising into Orotund in sue 1 a passage a.
11 ^So-3oo; force, moderate ; pitch, middle; ; time, mode. ate.
To render this selection with effect, the reader '.""«\P'V' /'!!''!! ""see
lJ:.',S, ,111.6^. Emphasis (III., 7). and Imitative Modulation. See
note on "The Dark Huntsman," page 8«.
I
it ft
li.:)
;;
J
1
1',
1
f, ■
i^'
111
1 i ■
1S4
ADVAXCEP KEADKR.
and seeniin,;,^ like a spectre from one of the neighboring tombs.
The ajiproacli to the abbey through these gloomy monastic
remains prepares the mind for its solemn contemplation.
The cloisters still retain something of the quiet and seclusion
2o of former days. The gray walls are discolored by damps, and
crumbling with age; a coat of hoary moss has gathered over
the inscriptions of the mural monuments, and obscured the
death's heads and other funereal emblems. The sharp touches
of tlie chisel are gone from the ricli tracery of the arches; the
25 roses which adorned the keystones have lost their leafy
beauty : (everything bears marks of the gradual dilapidations
of time, wliich yet has something touching and pleasing in
its very decay.
The sun was pouring down a yellow autumnal ray into tlie
30 stjuare of the cloisters ; l)eaming upon a scanty plot of grass
in the centre, and lighting up an angle of the vau'ted passage
with a kind of dusk\' splendor. From between ihe arcades
the eve glanced up to a bit of blue sky or a ])assing cloud,
and belield the sun-gilt piiuiacles of tlie abbey towering into
35 the azure hea\en.
As 1 paced the cloisters, sometimes contemplating this
mingled picture of glory and decay, and sometimes endeavor-
ing to decipher the inscriptions on the tombstones, which
formed the pavement beneath my, feet, my eye was attracted
40 to throe figures, rudely carved in relief, but nearly worn away
by the footsteps of many generations. They were the effigies
of three of the early abbots ; the epitaplis were entirely effaced ;
the names alone remained, having no doubt been renewed in
later times. (N'italis. Abbas. 1082, and Gislebertus Crispinus.
45 Abbas. 1114, and Laurentius. Abbas. 1176.) I remained
some little while, musing over these casual relics of antiquit) ,
20-jS. Note the p;raphic word-
painting. ICxplain " its very decay."
21J-35. Observe that the bright-
ness of this pictnre emphasizes by
contrast the one that precedes it,
and assists in giving variety to the
general effect of the essav. 'I'lie in-
from one snbject to another, (^l)serve
in til is paragrajih the use of color to
heighten the effect of the description.
37. mingled— decay, lixplain the
phrase, and point out the leading
features.
45-51. I -— inscription. Note the
troduction ot such inculents also i balanced structure. E.\plaiu • musing
enat)les the author to pass gracefully 1 — time."
IRVIXG.
IS'
llui^ left like wrecks upon this distant shore of tune, telhn-
„o tale but lliat sueh bein^^s had been and had perished :
ic-ichinR no moral but the futility of that pride whieh ho,>es
.till to exact homa-e in its ashes, and to live ni an insrr.p- -
ti„n. A little lonj^^er, and even tlu^se taint records will he
obliterated, and the inonuinent will cease t.. be a meinonal.
Whilst 1 was yet lookiiij.' down upon these ^aavestoms, 1
was roused by the sound of the abbey clock, reverberatin- from
buttress to buttress, and echoini;- anion- the cloisters. It is v,
almost startling to hear this warnin- of departed tune sonnd-
in.^ amon- the tombs, and tellin- the lapse of the hour, which
like a billow, has rolled us onward towards the -rave. 1
nursued mv walk to an arched door openin- to the interior
of the abbey. On enterin^^ here, the ma-nitud.> of the build- r,o
in- breaks fuUv upon the mind, contrasted with the vaults ot
the cloister. The eves gaze with wonder at clustered columns
of -igantic dimensions, with arches sprin-m- Irom them to
Mudi an ama/in- hei-ht ; an.l man wanderin- about then-
bases, shrunk into insi-nihcance in comparison with his own 65
handiwork. The spaciousness and -h'c.m of this vast edilice
produce a i^rofound and mvsterious awe. We step cautiously
uid softly about, as if fearful of disturbin- the hallowc.l silence
of tin- tomb; while every footfall whispers alon- the w.dls,
ami chatters amon- the sepulchres, makin- us imn-e sensible 70
of till' (piiet we have interrupted.
it seems as if the awful nature of the place presses down
upon the soul, and hushes the beholder into noiseless rever-
ence We feel that we are surrounded by the con-re-ated
bones of the great me-.i of past times, who have Idled history 75
with their deeds, and ihe earth with their renown.
\nd yet it almost provokes a smile at the vanity ot human
ambition, to see how they are crowded together and joslle.l
in the dust; what parsimony is observed m doling out a
58. like a billow. SIions the
appropriiUint'ss ot the Siinilc
O4. Critifisc; the Kllipsis in this
line.
67, Distin^'uish "awe" from
"dre.-id" and "reverence."
Oy-yo. Show the aptness oi ■ whis-
pers" and " chatters,"
Dis-
5.;. monument, memorial.
tingnish.
53-55. Whilst -cloisters, ("f. 11.
14-16. This incident :dso enables
the author to pass on to another
subject without abruptness. Cf. 11.
29-35 ■
55-5S. See (13, III., I and. 2).
U. i
;l .14
if ;!
IJM
i i
■ i.:
1 '
ill
■ ! t'l.'i
1' f
iLiLdii
1 86
.1 /; I M XCED READER .
8o scanty nook, a .i^dooniy corner, a little portion of earth, to
those whom, wlien alive, kingdoms could not satisfy; and
how many shapes, and forms, and artifices are devised to
catch the casual notice of the passenger, and save from for-
getfulness, for a few short years, a name which once aspired
85 to occupy ages of the norld's thought and admiration.
I passed some time in Poets' Corner, which occupies an
erid of one of the transepts or cross aisles of the abbey.
The monuments are generally simple ; for the lives of literary
men afford no striking themes for the sculptor. Shakespeare
90 and Addison have statues erected to their memories ; but the
greater part have busts, medallions, and sometimes mere
inscriptions. Notwithstanding the simplicity of these memo-
rials, I ha\e always observed that the visitors to the abbey
remained longest about them. A kinder and fonder feeling
95 takes j)lace of tliat cold curiosity or vague achniration with
which they gaze on the splendid monuments of the great and
the heroic. They linger about these as about the tombs of
friends and companions ; for indeed there is something of
companionship between the author and the reader. Other
100 men are known to posterity only through the medium of
histor}-, which is continually growing faint and obscure; but
the intercourse between the author and his fellow-men is ever
new, active and immediate. He has lived for them more
than for himself; he has sacrificed surrounding enjoyments,
105 and shut himself up from the deliglits of social life, that he
might the more intimately conuuune witii distant minds and
distant ages. \\'ell may the world cherish his renown ; for it
has been purchased, not by deeds of violence and blood, but
by the diligent dispensation of pleasure. Well may posterity
no be grateful to his memory ; for he has left it an inheritance,
80. Show that this is not .in in- 105-107. that — ages. Is the rule
stance of Tautolo<,'y ? (12. V., i, /;.) for the sequence of tenses observed
here? Explain fully. To whom
Sj. passenger, ('nticise. (n, I.,
I . <•■)
S.|. What is peculiar in the use of
" name" ?
97. linger. Distinguish from "loi-
ter." is "these" correctly used :'
103. immediate. Explain.
does "he," 1. 105, refer? Why is
" distant " repeated ?
107-10Q. for — pleasure. How is
this proposition made effective? Cf.
11. 10(1- r I V
107-115. See (12, ILL, 2,) and (12,
II., i,<).'
IRVISCr
lN7
not of empty names unci soutulin- actions, but whole trcas-
avcs of wisdom, In-i-lit -ems of ihou-hl. and i^oUlen veins .>t
''''Fronf Poets' Corner, I continue.l my stroll towards thai
part of the abbey which contains the sepulchres ot the km-s. .-,
r wandered amon- what once were chapels, bnl which are
now occuiMed bv the tombs an.) monuments ot the ^Teat. At
,.very turn I met with some illustrious name; or ttu^ co'^ni-
.•ince (^f some powerful house renowned m history. As tiie
e;-e darts into these dusky chambers of death, it catches ..o
.dimpses of quaint efiij,nes-some kneelin^^ m niches, a. it
?n .Icvotion; others stretched upon the Kmibs, with hands
nu.iislv pressed to^^ether ; warriors m armor, as it reposing
vfter battle; prelates witn crosiers and mitres; and nobles m
;obes and coronets, lyin^ as it were in state. In t^lancm^ ..
over this scene, so stran-ely populous, yet where every torni
is so still and silent, it seems almost as if we were tieadin- a
mansion of that fabled city where every bein^^ had been
suddenly transmuted into stone.
I paused to contemplate a tomb on winch lay the elh-y ot .30
a kni-ht in complete armor. A lar^^e buckler was on one
arm- the hands were pressed together m supplication upon
'the breast ; the face was almost covered by the morion : the
le.^s were crossed, m token of the warrior's having been
ensa^^ed in the holy war. It was the tomb of a crusader ; o m5
one of those military enthusiasts, who so stran-ely min-led
reh-Mon and romance, and whose exploits form the connect-
in.^' link between fact and fiction ; between the history and
the fairv tale. There is something extremely picturescpie in
the tombs of these adventurers, decorated as they are with mo
rude armorial bearings and Gothic sculpture. They comport
^vith the antiquated chapels in which they are generally fouml;
and in considering them, the imagination is apt to kindle with
beauty of tlie language and thouRhts, Apanthiiusis.
. . ijS-i^.) fabled city stone. 1-x-
III. Account for the Ellipsis in pi^i„ the reference,
this Hue. (13, II., I.) M"-i3'J' who — tale. Ilxplain
I iG. but which. Criticise. and illustrate.
I
i •
i8H
AD\-AXCi:i) READER.
1
nil,
II'.
MM
I
tlie Icf^'endary associations, tlu.- roiuantic fiction, tlie cliival-
,45 rous pomp and pa,L,a-antr3-, which poetry has spread over the
wars for the sepulchre of Christ. They are the reHcs of
times utterly f,a)ne bv ; of bein,i,^s passed from recollection ;
of customs and manners with which ours have no affinity.
They are like objects from some stranj^^e and distant land, oi
,50 which we have no certain knowledj^^e, and about which all
our conceptions are vaj^ue and visionary. There is some-
llnn,i; extremely solemn and awful in those effigies on ("lothic
tombs, extended as if in the sleep of death, or in the suppli-
cation of the dying hour. They have an effect infinitely
,5:; more impressive on my feelings than the fancifid attitudes.
the over-wrought conceits, and allegorical groups, which
abound on modern monuments. I have been struck, also,
with the superiority of many of the old sepulchral inscrip-
tions. There was a noble way, in former times, of saying
160 things simply, and yet saying them proudly; and I do not
know an epitaph that breathes a loftier consciousness of
family worth and honorable lineage, than one which affirms
of a noble house that " all the brothers were brave, and all
the sisters virtuous.""
165 In the opposite transept to Poets' Corner stands a monu-
ment which is aiiiong tiie most renowned achievements of
modern art, but which to, me appears horrible rather than
sublime. It is the tomb of Mrs. Nightingale, by Roubilliac.
The bottom of the monument is represented as tlirowung open
170 its marble doors, and a sheeted skeleton is starting forth.
The shroud is falling from his fieshless frame as he launches
his dart at his victim. She is sinking into lier affrighted
husband's arms, who strives, with vain and frantic effort, to
avert the blow. The whole is executed with terrible truth
175 and spirit ; we almost fancy we hear the gibbering yell of
triumph bursting from the distended jaws of the spectre.
But why shoukl we thus seek to clothe death with unneces-
145- 1 fO. poetry— Christ. Mxplniii, 159-164. Discuss these sentiments,
ancrillustratc fro>n the history of ^ ^^^.^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^.^^ ^^
,,,,.. . , the author's criiiLisin.
15.2. solemn, awful. Distin.^uisb.
134-155. Is this use of .VUiteration I74-I7'-'- The whole— spectre. See
happv ? C}ive reasons. (13. HI' 2)-
IR\ISG.
189
he launches
er alfritj^hted
^arv UTvots, and to spread honors round the tomb of those we
l,',ve? The ^a-ave sliouhl he surrounded l)y ever\ thin^Mhat
iiiiuht inspiri" tenderness and vineration for the (U>ad. or that .80
mCdit win the hvin^ to virtue. It is llie place, not ot dis-ust
and disniav, but of sorrow and meditation.
Wliile wanderin-- about these -iooin\ vauUs and silent
.usles, studying the records of the dead, the sound of busy ex-
istence from without occasionally reaches tlu' car -- the .85
nunbliuK of the passing equipage, the nunuun- of the nmlti-
lude, or perhaps the light laugh of pleasure. The contrast
i^ '.triking with the deathdike repose around ; and it has a
strange effect upon the feelings, thus to hear the surges ot
active life hurrying along, and beating against the very walls „o
of the sepulchre.
1 continued in this wav to move from tond) to tomb, ami
h-om chapel to chapel. The day was gradually wearmg
away; the distant tread of loiterers about the abbey grew
le^sand less frequent; the sweet-tongued bell was stuumonmg ,,5
to evening prayers, and I saw at a distance the choristers,
in their white surplices, crossing the aisle and entermg the
choir. I stood before the entrance to Henry the Seventh s
chapel. A flight of steps lead up to it, through a deep and
gloomv, but magnificent arch. Great gates of l.rass, richly 2co
and delicately wrought, turn heavily upon their hinges, as if
proudly reluctant to admit the feet of common mortals into
this most gorgeous of sepulchres.
On entering, the eye is astonished by the pomp of archi-
tecture, and the elaborate beautv of sculptured detail 1 he ,05
very walls are wrought into universal ornament, incrusted
with tracery, and scooped into niches, crowded with the
statues of saints and martyrs. Stone seems, by the cunning
179. Which is the correct prepos.-: 183-191. Explaui fi^b vh> these
tion to use after ''surrounded'' j incidents are .ntroduced 1 ars.
-••by" or "with"? I -with,' 1. 188. Cf. 11. 14-16 and
iSo. might inspire. Why noti"-^5-35'
e— spectre. See
"may inspire" '
iSi-t82. Note tha' here, as often
happens in a well-constructed para-
graph, the last sentence summarizes
what has preceded.
185-187. the— pleasure. (13. m-.
2,) and (12, IV., 4.)
201. heavily- hinges. See (12,
IV., 4).
I
5 !
H i
uH
ll
ICJU
A])\'A.\ci:i) r]:ai)i:r.
m
'Is I t|
W
labor of the chisel, to have l)een robbed of its \vei;,Oit and
aio density, snspended aloft, as if by nia,<,dr, and tiie fretted roof
achieved witli the wonderful minuteness and air\' securitv of
a cobweb.
Alouf,' the sides of the chapel are the lofty stalls of tiic
Knij^dits of the P>ath, richly carved of oak, th()u,i,di with the
215 grotes(iue decorations of Gothic arcliitecture. On the pin-
nacles of the stalls are affixetl the helmets and crests of the
kni.i^dits, with their scarfs and swords; and above them are
suspended tlieir banners, emblazoned with armorial bearin<,fs,
and contrasting; the splendor of ^^old and purple and crim-
220 son with the cold, gray fretwork of the roof. In the midst of
tliis f^rand mausoleum stands the sepulchre of its founder,
—his effig)', with that of his queen, extended on a sumptuous
tomb, and the whole surrounded by a superbly-wrouglit
brazen railing.
225 There is a sad dreariness in this magnificence ; this
strange mixture of tombs and trophies; these emblems of
living and as})iring aud)ition, close besitle mementos which
show the dust and oblivion in which all must, sooner or later,
terminate. Nothing impresses the mind with a deeper feel-
230 ing of loneliness, than to tread the silent and deserted scene
of former throng and pageant. On looking round on the
vacant stalls of the knights and their esquires, and on the
rows of dusty but gorgeous banners that were once borne
before them, my imagination conjured up the scene when this
235 hall was bright with the valor and beauty of the land ; glit-
tering with the splendor of jewelled rank and military array;
alive with the tread of many feet and the hum of an admiring
multitude. All had passed away; the silence of death had
settled upon the place, interrupted only by the casual chirping
240 of birds, which had found their way into the chapel, and
built their nests among its friezes and pendants — sure signs
of solitariness and desertion.
.209-210. weight and density. Are ; 231-238. Observe the balanced
both words iieressary ? Give rea- 1 structure,
sons.
217-220. Cf. 11. 29-35.
234-23S. the scene — multitude.
To what mav the author refer ?
IR\L\G
11)1
e balanced
Wlu'u 1 iviul the names inscribed on the l.iunurs, llu y
uere those of men scattered far and wide about the u..vld;
some tossin- upon distant seas: some under arn>s n, d.Manl .,,
l,nds; some nnnt;Hn- n, the bu.y mtrL^m^s ot courts and
;,l>inets; all seekin- to deserve one more distnu-fon n, I us
,„ansion of shadowy lionors: the melancholy reuard ol a
inomnnent. , . , , . .,
Two small aisles on each side ot tins cluqu'l present a ..30
touchin^^ instance of the eciuality of the j^Mave, which bru,-s
down the oppressor to a level with the oppressc.l, and mm-les
the dust of the bitterest enemies to-ether. In one- is tiu-
sepnlchre of the hau-hty Kli/abeth; in the other is that ol
her victim, the lovely and unfortunate Mary. Not an hour m .„
the day but some ejaculation of pity is uttered over the late ot
the latter, min^ded with indignation at her oppressor. 1 he
w.dls of Elizabeth's sepulchre continually echo with the s.-i.s
of sympathy heaved at the f^rave of her rival.
A peculiar melancholy rei-ns over the aisle where Mary ..60
lies buried. The li^lit stru-des dimly throu-h wnulows
darkened by dust. The ^'reater part of the place is m deep
shadow, and the walls are stained and tinted by time and
weather. A marble Ir-ure of Mary is strelche.l upon the
tomb, round which is an iron railing, much corroded, bearm- .65
her national emblem-^the thistle. I was weary with wamler-
in.r, and sat down to rest myself by the monument, revo vmg
in my mind the chequered and disastrous story of poor Mary.
The sound of casual footsteps had ceased from the abbey.
I could only hear, now and then, the distant voice of the priest .70
repeating the evening service, and the faint responses ot the
choir ; these paused for a time, and all was hushed. 1 he still-
ness, the desertion and obscurity that were gradually prevailing
around gave a deeper and more solemn interest to the place ;
243-244. When-they were, etc. ; 260, 264, and 268. Why is ■• Mary -
What thought is here omitted ? ! repeated ?
I 266-267. weary with wandenng.
245-247. Why does the author se- ; Comment on the orif^'in of the phrase,
lect these occupations ? I 269-272.0^11.33-55-
, ! 270. Criticise the arrangement of
253-^5y- Discuss the histuiiLal ac- - , ^^ i^^^.
curacy of the author's estimate of ^"^ ^^"'^"^
Elizabeth's treatment of Mary. 1 272. these. What.
.
ijj
*■ )'
i '« f
ii\i \
f •■ 1.
K I
iga
.!/)r.l.VC7-.7) Ri:.ll>I'R
275 ■■ l"(ir in the silent t^r.ivr im coinorsation,
No jdvful tread t>t' Irieiids. no voice of lovers,
No careful father's connsel iiotliinK's lieanl,
{■"or nothing; is, but all oMixion,
'>ust, anil an emlKss (larkness."
280 Stuldriily the notes of the deep-laborin-.-- or-^Mii burst upon
the caf. falhiii,' with doubled and redoubled intensity, and
rollin;;. as it were, hnj^e billows of sound. Mow well do their
vohnne and <,aandeiu- accord with this niij^dity biiildinf,^! \\ itli
what pomp do thev swell thronf,di its vast vanlls, and l)reathe
285 their awhil harmony throiiKh these caves of deatli, and make
the silent sepulchre vocal! And now they rise in triumphant
acclamation, heaving higher ami higher their acconlant notes,
and piling sound on somul. And now they pause, and the
soft \()ices of the choir break out into sweet gushes of melody.
290 They soar aloft, and warble along the roof, and seem to play
about these lofty vaults like the pme airs of heaven. Again
the pealing organ heaves its thrilling thunders, compressing
air into music, and rolling it forth upon the soul. What long-
drawn cadences! What solenni, sweeping concords! It
ags grows more and more dense and powerful; it fills the vast
pile, and seems to jar the very walls. The ear is stunned, the
senses are overwhelmed. And now it is winding up in full
jubilee; it is rising from tlie earth to heaven. The very soul
seems rapt away and floated upwards on this swelling tide of
300 harmony !
I sat for some time lost in that kind of reverie which a strain
of music is apt sometimes to inspire: the shadows of evening
were gradually thickening round me ; the monuments began
to cast deeper and deeper gloom ; and tlie distant clock again
305 gave token of the slowly waning day.
I rose and prepared to leave the abbey. As I descended
the flight of steps which lead into the body of the building,
280-300. Note the skilful selection | 301-302. that kind— inspire. What
and combination of the words in | must have been the character of the
this passage. Show that it is a i author's thoughts ?
remarkable specimen of Onomato- 1
pceia. Note the Ecphoncsis {12,! 3"^'-3t-- Observe the author's
IV., 13,) as the author's feelings ; artifice to enable him to generalize
master him. What are the artistic ' his reflections,
objects of this description ?
iR\i\a.
^'JS
iny eye was cau^Oit by the shrine of Edward the Confessor,
ami 1 ascended the small staircase that conducts to it. to take
iVoin thence a j^a-neral survey of this wilderness of tombs. The ^lo
shrine is elevated ui)on a kind of platform, ami close around
it are the sepulchres of various kin^s and (|ueens. From this
eminence the eye looks down between pillars and funereal
trophies to the chapels and chaudnns below, crowded with
tombs; where warriors, prelates, courtiers, and statesmen lie 3-5
mouldering in their " beds of darkness."" C lose by me stood
the great chair of coronation, rudely carved of oak. in tlu'
barbarous taste of a remote and gothic age. Tlu- scene
seemed almost as if contrived, with theatrical artifice, to pro-
duce an effect upon the beholder. Mere was a type of the 3^"
beginning and the entl of human jwiiip and power; here it
\v:rs literally but a step from the throne to the sepulchre.
Would not one think that these incongruous mementos had
been gathered together as a lesson to living greatness?— to
show it, even in the moment of its proudest exaltation, theses
neglect and dishonor to which it must soon arrive; how soon
that crown which encircles its brow must pass away, and it
must lie down in the dust and disgraces of the tomb, and be
trampled upon by the feet of the meanest of the multitude.
For, strange to tell, even the grave is here no longer a sanclu- 330
ary. There is a shocking levity in some natures, which leads
them to sport with awful and hallowed things; and there are
base minds, which delight to revenge on the illustrious dead
the abject homage and grovelling servility which they pay to
the living. The coffin of Edward the Confessor has been 335
broken open, and his remains despoiled of their finiereal
ornaments; the sceptre has been stolen from the hand of the
imperious Elizabeth, and the effigy of Henry the I^fth lies
headless. Not a royal monument but bears some proof how
false and fugitive is the homage of mankind. Some are 340
plundered, some mutilated; some covered with ribaldry and
insult — all more or less outraged and dishonored !
h-
1:
328-329. in the dust— multitude. \ 330-331- For-sanctuary. Observe
Comment on the vigor of the Ian- : that this t,'eneral statement is
I amplified in the sequence.
guage.
^
ii;!
.!i
194 ADVANCED READER.
The last beams of day were now faintly streanun^ through
the painted windows in the hij,'h vaults above me, the lower
345 parts of tlie abbey were already wrapped in the obscurity of
twilight. The chapel and aisles grew darker and darker.
The effigies of the kings faded into shadows; the marble
figures of the monuments assumed strange shapes in the
uncertain light ; the evening breeze crept through the aisles
i$o like the cokl breath of the grave; and even the distant footfall
of a verger, traversing the Poets' Corner, had something
strange and dreary in its sound. I slowly retraced my
morning's walk, and as I passed out at the portal of the
cloisters, the door, closing with a jarring noise behind me,
355 tilled the whole building with echoes.
I endeavored to form some arrangement in my mind of the
objects 1 had been contemplating, but found they were already
fallen into iiulisliuctness and confusion. Names, inscriptions,
trophies, had all become confounded in my recollection,
360 though I had scarcely taken my foot from off the threshold.
What, thought I, is this vast assemblage of sepulchres but a
treasury of luuniliation ; a huge pile of reiterated homilies on
the emptiness of renown, and the certaint\ of oblivion ! It is,
indeed, the empire of Death ; his great shadowy palace, where
365 he sits in state, mocking at the relics of human glory, and
spreading dust and forgetfulness on the monuments of princes.
How idle a boast, after all, is the immortality of a name!
Time is ever silently turning over his pages; we are too much
engrossed by the story of the present, to think of the char-
370 acters and anecdotes that gave interest to the past ; and each
age is a volume thiown aside to be speedily forgotten. The idol
of to-day pushes the hero of yesterday out of our recollection ;
and will, in turn, be supplanted by his successor of to-morrow.
" Our fathers," says Sir Thomas Brown, " find their graves in
J75 our short memories, and sadly tell us how we may be buried
in our survivors." History fades into fable; fact becomes
343.352. Cf. 11. 14-16 and 29-35. : eralization of the author's medita-
354. the door— noise. What may tions.
be the artistic . eason for the intro- ! 364-365. To whom is the author
duction of this incident ? indebted for the lanKuage in the
360. Now follows a further gen- ; text ? Quote the passage.
iRvi\(;.
195
rknuli'il witli doubt and loiitrovfrsy : tlif iiisci iplion luoiildors
from the tablet; the statue falls from th- pedestal. Columns,
arches, pyramids, what are they but heaps of sand; and their
epitaphs, but characters written in the dust? What is the 180
security of a tomb, or the perpetuity of an cnibalninient ?
The riinains of Alexaniler the Great have been scattered to
the wind, and his empty sarcopluiKMs is now the mere
curiosity of a umseum. " The K^yptian ininnmies. which
(■and)yses or time hath spared, avarice now consumeth ; J85
Mi/raim cures wounds, and I'haraoh is sold for balsams."
What, then, is to insure this jiile which now towers above
ine from sharing' the fate of mi;,ditier mausoleum The time
must come when itsj^ilded vaults, which now spi in- so loftily,
shall lie in rubbish beneath the feet; wlun. instead of the jyo
sound ol elody and praise, the wind nail whistle throu^di
the broken arches, and the owl hoot from the shattered
tower — when the f,^arish sunbeam shall break uito these
j,doomy mansions of death, and the ivy twine round the fallen
column; and the fox},dove hanic its blossoms about the name- m
less urn, as if in mocker\ of the dead. Thus man passes
away; his name perishes tiom i cortl and recollection; his
history is as a tale that is told, and his very monument be-
comes a ruin.
li'l
I Classify the essay uii Westminster Abbey, and describe its general
character. 'Show that it is both 'bjective and subjective.
-^ Develop fully what is means by describing its style as "elegant."
3. State and illustrate the various means by which the author displays
his artistic powers.
4 Refer to the Critical estimate, p. 1S2, and show to what extent this
essay illustrates the peculiarities of the authors genius as stated therein.
5. Point out the passages that are remarkable for their beauty, stating
in each case the main sources of e.xcellence.
6. Memorize the description of the music of the vv-an.
:'s medita-
COMI'OSITION.
De.scribe, after Irving:-!. The Toets' Corner. II, Menry the Seventh's
Chapel. III. Evening in Westminster Abbey.
gi'Mjawc^ritMaiii
'■A^ i ia
TENNYSON.
'S .i-
a,
lli^
Biographical. — Alfred Tennyson, third son of the late Rev. G. C. Ten-
nyson, was born in iSio at Somerby, Lincolnshire. He was educated by
his father, and proceeded in due course to Trinity College, Cambridge,
where in 1829 he won the Chancellor's medal for the best English poem on
5 " Timbuctoo." With the exception of this juvenile effort and an anony-
mous volume written in conjunction with his brother Charles, he published
nothing till 1S30. The ungracious criticism which his earlier productions
met with did not discourage him. He continued to write with more care
and with ripening powers, and the volume of 1842 at once established his
10 claim to rank as a poet of a high order. So popular with all classes did
he subsequently become, that he was awarded the poet-laureateship on the
death of Wordsworth, in 1S50. The honorary degree of D.C.L. was also
conferred on him in 1855 by the University of Oxford, and in 1869 he was
unanimously elected a Fellow of his own College. Tennyson's youth was
15 passed in the low-lying, marshy region of Lincolnshire — a circumstance
which accounts for the character of the landscapes in his earlier poems.
For many years, however, he has lived amid the leafy woodlands and
blooming meadows of the Isle of Wight, and his changed surroundings
are abundantly manifested in his later productions. The poet leads a
I
TENNYSOX.
107
quiet, secluded life, taking no part in politics, but, as his works show, keenly .^cr
interested in the great questions of the day.
I'RiNCii'AL Works.— Poiiiis chifjiy Lyrical (1830): This volume contained
Clnrilh-l, Mariana, Lilian, The Merman, The Qui, etc , dreamy experiments
in metre and word-painting, somewhat marred by affectation ami super-
fluous ornament, and displaying but slightly the earnest and contemplative .5
side of the poet's nature, Puews (1S32) ; Among these were The Miller's
Daiii^hter, Lady Clara Verc ile Vere, The May Queen, (Enone, The Palace of
Art /The Lotus Eaters, and A Dream of Fair Women. In this volume the Ten-
nysonian manner was fully developed— command t)f metre, extpiisite choice
of rhythmical and musical language, and the effective blending of thought 30
and imagery. Pocws (1S42): A revised edition of earlier pieces, with many
new ones. Among the latter were Morte if Arthur, now included in the Llylls
of the Kin^r, The Gardener s Daniihter, Dora, Godiva, St. Simeon Stylites,
Ulysses, The Talkin<;Oak, Locksley Hall, The Two Voices, The Vision of Sin,
The Dav Dream, and the well-known ballads and songs— /.(/(/v Clare. The 35
Lord of Burleigh ; Break, break, break ! and Flo7i' doieu, cold Rivnlet, to the
Sea. Here, too, were St. Agnes and .S(> G(i/(i/in(/— the purest and highest of
all his lyrics. The Princess, a Medley (1S47) : An epic with a distinct pur-
pose—the illustration of woman's struggles, aspirations, and proper relation
to man. The intervening songs, added in the second edition, constitute 40
the finest group of simple lyrics produced during the present century. /;/
Memoriam (1850) : The author's most characteristic work— not so ambitious
as The Idylls, but more markedly the product of our time. In 1S33, Ten-
nyson's bosom friend, Arthur Hallam, son of the historian, died at Vienna,
and in this now famous elegy the poet's grief found noble expression. In 45
it are emotional reflections on life, death, and immortality, and the world
within and without us, with intervening pictures of English scenery and of
life spent in cultured ease. "The work consists of a hundred and thirty
short lyrics, all representing a phase of the poet's sorrow brooding th^ ught."
Maud and other Poems (1855) contained The Charge of the Light Brigade, 50
Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington (published separately in 1850) ;
The Brook, a charming idyll ; and Maud, a metrical romance in a somewhat
dramatic form, which, though full of beauties, is, as a whole, weakly senti-
mental, and below the level of the author's other productions, hlylls of
the King (1859-1872) : Tennyson's masterpiece; an epic of ideal chivalry, ss
Enoch Ardcn and other Poems (1864) : The former is a well-known pathetic
tale of domestic life, in the author's purest idyllic style; among the latter
Rre,AYlmer's Field, Lucretius, Sea Dreams, Tithonus. and The Northern Far-
mer Ballads, the last being "dialect poems" of higli merit. Tennyson
has since published many poems of a miscellaneous character, amongst 60
which are. The Revenge, De Profundis, Rizpah, and The Charge of the
Heavy Brigade. Of late years, English poets, notably Swinburne and
iirowning— have sought to renew dramatic vigor. Obeying lliis impulse,
Xp,-,nyc,nn produced Queen Marv (1875) and Harold (1876), which, though
they possess high literary merit, cannot be regarded as successful dramas. 65
i t
1 ^
I 5
198
ADVANCED READER.
\\i
' ! '
<]'
' -i
Critical. — Tennyson, our greatest living poet, is eminently the repre-
sentative of the Victorian era. A man of wide and firm intellectual grasp,
he has understood his age and its various complex tendencies. The revived
taste for beauty in Art and Literature, the social problems of modern
70 life, the various aspects of civilization and prepress, democratic self-asser-
tion against the claims of rank and privilege, speculative philosophy and
scientific knowledge and their relations to religion and morals — in a word,
the culture, thought, and aspirations of the nineteenth century — all furnish
him with themes. As an artist in verse, he is the greatest of modern poets
75 In command of metre, in wealth and exquisite choice of melodious lan-
guage, he is unsurpassed. So fastidious is his taste, that he often seems
disc(3ntented with himself when others are willing to believe him perfect.
It is not ihe least of Tennyson's merits that we are indebted to him for the
restoraticjn of many Saxon words, which, while they add to the strength
80 of his own style, are valuable accessions to the vocabulary of the English
language. His inventive faculty is not high ; his genius lies rather in
skilful adaptation. There are many instances in his poems of deliberate
rendering into verse of what others have said or written — not merely in
the groundwork of some of his poems, but occasionally in his epithets and
85 imagery. Tennyson stands at the head of the Idyllic School — of those
poets " who largely produce their effect by harmonizing scenery and details
with the emotion or impassioned action of the verse." In other words,
the scenery enhances the thought. His descriptive powers are also unusu-
ally excellent. He is a close observer of nature— so close, that bv many
90 his references and similes are but imperfectly appreciated. Of humor he
has shown little evidence, if we except the admirable portraiture of The
Nortlu-nt Farnur. Satire he sometimes affects ; but occasionally it borders
on spleen or is inspired by sentimentality. Pathos is an abundant ele-
ment in many of his compositions, reaching even a tragic height in the
95 parting of Arthur and duinevere. The repose and fastidious care which
generally aiark his style are, however, incompatible with the manifestation
of great emotion ; so that, though broad in his sympathies and possessed
of a deep insight into the workings of the human soul, he seldom rises to
the heights of impassioned utterance. He is the master of meditative,
ICO descriptive, and lyrical verse, but lacks the true dramatic faculty — a defect
probably attributable not more to the peculiarity of his genius than to his
secluded life and the character of the age. Tennyson's poems are alwavs
pure and noble in purpose. He has, indeed, proved himself to be the
worthy wearer of the
105 " laurel tjrecner from the brows
Of liiin that uttered nothing base."
m
m.
^i
TEXSYSO.X. 199
THE PASSINC. OF ARTHUR.
IsTKonrcTORV.-In 1S42 Tennyscm publislu.d .1/.;^ <r.l;//;.r incor
norJS it afterxvards in Thr P„..s/;/- of Arthur, and m .^5M appoartnl the
r ; , ort ons c.f Tlu' hhlh of tin- Ki,.,,. Since the latter date, tlte num-
er h IS b"4n graduallv'increase.l to ten. The poem, uh.ch .s an ep.c of
ch v.irv- "the C-hristian ideal of chiv,alry deduced from a barl.anc
;!; rJe "-iTiav be read as a tnere narrative contain.n;^ some oi tlie rom.uu.c
sunns' thargathered around Arthur, a legendary Hr.t.sh long ."^t t),. tu e
o he English invasion; but there is good reason for believing that le -
•son inttmded it to be a consistent and coherent allegory, opening uith
l^e birt o he soul as portrayed in Thr Cmin,, of Arthur and closing
whhksno less mvsterions disappearance as recorded in Ihr Passu,, ,,/
Arthur. The poet himself speaks of Thf hiylls as
" Ncw-ol.l aiul ^ha.lowitin Sens.- .it w.ir with Soul
K.Ulicr th.in that t;iay kiiit:, whose iiame, a t;host.
Strains like a clou.l, inaii-shaina, tnmi inoiuitam peak.
And cleaves to cairn and cromlech siill.
The Knights of the Round Table represent the faculties that yi.ld ^^illing
M iect"on o a pure conscience. The uncultivated xvaste ravaged by uild
Ssiml overrun by urong is that against which it is man's duty in this
or 1 i fight-the evil xvhich is partly within and partlv without him^
T Ir u<d ou'the Idvlls, the body an.l its passions contmually gain greater
sxSv U 1 in the end the spirit's eart' ly -'-rk is thwarted -";! ^ ;; eau.l b^
the'iiesh •■ Baffled and disc^mfiteu in its earthly lunges, it sinks in the
mist of death, but at eventide there is light, and the end is glory. No
™lv, oweve;, does Arthur typify the soul. It was as a <"'K' >;>.;-- '^^
of the Christ himself that his story attained its wonderful p.-pilai it> . In
le lavs o chivalry King Arthur was "a blameless king a kind of human
Chri --t e rov.l liberator of his people, who shall surely come again and
compkne his work-the mystically born king, victorious, defeated, but
deathless."
That story which the bold Sir Bcdivcre,
First macie and latest left of all the kni^dits,
Told, when the man was no more than a voice
In the white winter of his a^'e, to those
With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds.
LiTERARV.-Explain clearly what quality is the use of a very copious
the author means by an " Idyll,'; See and expressive Saxon vocabulary
Critical estimate, page 19^, U- S5-SS.
Show that throughout the poem the
main thought is enhanced by the
scenery and other details. Describe
the versification, observing closely
the cTsural pause. Note that this
poem is remarkable for its strength,
and that one of the chief means bv
which the author has secured the
I. That story. Give the force of
"That," .ind parse "story." Give
brierty the story as told by Malory ?
i-2f). What is the percentage of
Saxon words in these par.igraphs?
<. no- voice
Explain. (12, IV.,
30-
i
11
JM j
1
.
* 1
fi
V , 1
i ■
A.
ii.
M i
1
I
ill
200 ADVANCED READER
Then, ere that last weird battle in the west
There came on Arthur sleeping, Gawain kill'd
In Lancelot's war, the ghost of Gawain blown
Along a wandering wind, and past his ear
,o Went shrilling " Hollow, hollow all delight!
Hail, King ! to-morrow thou shalt pass away.
Farewell ! there is an isle of rest for thee.
And I am blown along a wandering wind,
And hollow, hollow, hollow all delight."
,5 And fainter onward, like wild birds that change
Their season in the night and wail their way
From cloud to cloud, down the long wind the dream
Shriird ; but in going mingled with dim cries
Far in the moonlit haze among the hills,
20 As of some lonely city sack'd by night.
When all is lost, and wife and child with wail
Pass to new lords ; and Arthur woke and call'd,
" Who spake? A dream. O light upon the wind.
Thine, Gawain, was the voice— are these dim cries
25 Thine ? or doth all that haunts the waste and wild
INIourn, knowing it will go along with me?"
This heard the bold Sir Bedivere, and spake:
" O me, my King, let pasr whatever will.
Elves, and the harmless glamour of the field :
30 But in their stead thy name and glory cling
To all high places like a golden cloud
Forever : but as yet thou shalt not pass.
Light was Gawain in life, and light in death
6. last— west. What is here sym-
bolized ?
8. Lancelot's war. Explain.
What character did Gawain bear
among the Knights? Sho.v that his
appearing to Arthur is in accordance
with "poetic truth."
10-14. Point out the Imitative
Harmony. See also (12, II., J, a.)
15-17. chang'e their season. Ex-
plain fully. Why " From cloud to
cloud"? Note the aptness of the
author's Similes. See Critical esti-
mate, 11. 89-90.
18. What is meant bv "dim
cries"? (12, IV., 35.)
20-22. As— lords. Observe the
additional touches by which the
author increases the effect of the
simple Simile.
26. knowing— me. What is here
referred to ? Cf. 11. 5, 28-29, and 385.
29-30. harmless glamour. Ex-
plain. Parse "cling." Why "To
all high places"?
•ii
TES'NYSON.
20I
Is Gawain, for the ghost is as the man ;
And care not thou for dreams from him, hut rise—
I hear the steps of Modred in the west,
And with him many of thy people and kni^dits
Once thine, whom thou hast loved, hut grosser grown
Than heathen, spitting at their vows and tliee.
Right well in heart they know thee for the King.
Arise, go forth and conquer as of old."
Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere:
" Far other is this battle in the west
Whereto we move, than when we strove in youth.
And brake the petty kings, and fought with Rome,
Or thrust the heathen from the Roman wall,
And shook him thro' the North. Ill ooom is mine
To war against my people and my knights.
The king who fights his people fights himself.
And they, my knights, who loved me once, the stroke
That strikes them dead is as my death to me,
Yet let us hence, and find or feel a w^iy
Thro' this blind haze, which ever since I saw-
One lying in the dust at Almesbury,
Hath folded in the passes of the world."
Then rose the King and moved his host by night.
And ever push'd Sir Modred, league by league,
Back to the sunset bound of Lyonesse —
A land of old upheaven from the abyss
By fire, to sink into the abyss again ;
35
40
45
55
60
36-41. What is symboHzed by
Modred's rebellion ?
39. Observe the strong Saxon
language.
40. Note the archaic idiom.
45-47. Comment on the historical
references.
49. The king— himself. Illustrate
from history the truih of this state-
ment.
50-51. they— me. Point out and
account for the grammatical '. regu-
larity. {12, IV., 12.) Why are these
Archaisms introduced ? Explain the
Allegorical reference.
53-55, Explain "blind." Who is
referred to in "One— Almesbury " ?
What part of speech is " in," 1. 55 ?
58. Give the prose equivalent of
"sunset bound." Comment on the
French form of " Lyonesse."
59-61. What characteristic of the
author is here displayed ? See Crit-
ical estimale, 1. 72. Explain "to
sink — again."
il
lil^
■ i H
i
202
ADVANCED READER.
i:
70
Where fraj^'ments of forgotten peonies dwelt,
And the long mountains ended in a coast
Of ever-shifting sand, and far away
The phantom circle of a moaning sea.
65 There the pursuet could pursue no more,
And he that fled no further fly the King;
And there, that day when the great light of heaven
Burn'd at his lowest in the rolling year.
On the waste sand by the waste sea they closed.
Nor ever yet had Arthur fought a fight
Like this "las* , dim, weird battle of the west.
A death-white mist slept over sand and sea :
Whereof the chill, to him who breathed it, drew
Down with his blood, till all his heart was cold
With formless fear; and ev'n on Arthur fell
Confusion, since he saw not whom he fought.
For friend and foe were shadows in the mist,
And friend slew friend, not knowing whom he slew;
And some had visions out of golden youth.
And some beheld the faces of old ghosts
Look in upon the battle; and in the mist
Was many a noble deed, many a base.
And chance and craft and strength in single fights.
And ever and anon with host to host
85 Shocks, and the splintering spear, the hard mail hewn,
Shield-breakings, and the clash of brands, the crash
Of battle-axes on shatter'd helms, and shrieks
After the Christ, of those who falling down
75
80
61. fragments— peoples. What
is the ethnic reference ?
64. Show the full force of this ;
line, with special reference to "phan-
tom." Account, from a poetical point
of view, for the character of the scen-
ery of this Idyll. See Biographical
notice, 11. 14-16, and Critical estimate,
11, S6-S9.
65-69. Where is the cajsural pause
in 1. 66. Note the poetic beauty of
11. 67-69. Observe the magnificence
of the battle-piece that follows.
72. No "mist" is spoken of in Mal-
orv's Mortc. What is the artistic
object of its introduction here ? See
Critical estimate, 11. 86-89.
73-74. drew— blood. Is this de-
scription true to nature ?
79-81. some— battle. Explain
fully what is here signified. Note the
force of "out of."
85. Shocks. Parse. Point out
the effects of the figures in the rest
uf tliis paragraph.
88. Why "flw Christ"? Derive
"Christ."
' I
77:.V.VV.SOA'.
203
Look'd up for heaven, and only saw tlie mist ;
And shouts of heathen and the traitor kni^dits.
Oaths, insult, filth, and monstrous l)lasi)lRMnies,
Sweat, writhinf,'s, ans^aiish, laboring,' of the lun<,'s
In that close mist, and cryinfjs for the li^dU,
Moans of the dying, and voices of the dead.
Last, as by some one death-bed after wail
Of suffering, silence follows, or thro" death
Or deathlike swoon, thus over all that shore.
Save for some whisper of the seething seas.
A dead hush fell; but when the dolorous day
Grew drearier toward twilight falling, came
A bitter wind, clear from the North and blew
The mist aside, and with that wind the tide
Rose, and the pale King glanced across the field
Of battle : but no man was moving there ;
Nor any cry of Christian heard thereon.
Nor yet of heathen ; only the wan wave
Brake in among dead faces, to and Iro
Swaying the helpless hands, and up and down
Tumbling the hollow helmets of the fallen.
And shiver'd brands tliat once had fought with Rome.
And rolling far along the gloomy shores
The voice of days of old and days to be.
Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivcre,
And whiter than the mist that all day long
Had held the field of battle was the king:
" Hearest thou this great voice that shakes the world,
And wastes the narrow realm whereon we mo\ e,
And beats upon the faces of the dead.
90
ys
105
"5
94. voices of the
are meant ?
96. Show the grammatical relation
of "thro'."
3t"? Derive
100. Parse " falling."
1 01. A bitter wind, Thisincidcnt
does not occur in Malory's Mortc.
Point out the artistic object of its in-
dead. What I troduction h-^re. Explain "clear
j from the North."
I 106-112. only— to be. Note the
' appropriate beauty of this picture.
I Why is "that— Koine," 1. no, intro-
jduced? Explain 1. ir^ and parse
' "to be."
1 16- 1 18. this great voice— dead
Explain by reference to 1. 112.
.ill
!■:
204 ADVANCED READER.
My dead, as tho' they had not died for me?-
O Bedivere, for on my heart hath fall'n
Confusion, till I know not wliat I am.
Nor whence I am, nor whether I be Kin<^'.
Behold, I seem but King among the dead."
1 *'<^l<
I"
Then spake the bold Sir Bedivere ; " My King,
125 King everywhere! and so the dead have kings,
There also will I worship thee as king.
Vet still thy life is whole, and still I live
Who love thee; but who hates thee, he that brought
The heathen back among us, yonder stands,
130 Modred, unharm'd, the traitor of thine house."
Then spake the King: " My house hath been my doom.
But call not thou this traitor of my house
Who hath but dwelt beneath one roof with me.
My house are rather they who sware my vows,
135 Yea, even while they brake them, own'd me King.
And well for thee, saying in my dark hour.
When all the purport of my throne hath fail'd,
That quick or dead thou boldest me for King.
King am I, whatsoever be their cry;
140 And one last act of kinghood shalt thou see
Yet, ere I pass." And uttering this, the King
Made at the man : then Modred smote his liege
Hard on that helm which many a heathen sword
Had beaten thin ; while Arthur at one blow,
•45 Striking the last stroke with Excalibur,
Slew him, and all but slain himself, he fell.
120-121. for — Confusion. What 130. Modred. Why placed here ?
is the grammatical relation of this (12, II., 2, a.)
proposition? j 132. of my house. Point out the
121. What is symbolized by ^f';':^"'^*^ between the grammatical
Arthur's "confusion " ? I relations of the phrase here and in
125. so. Paraphrase. I 13^. What was the "purport" of
128. who hates. What is the i ^^rthur's throne?
antecedent of "who"? {12, IV., 145. What is symbolized by
7.) Parse "he." Arthur's sword ?
T
TENNYSOX.
205
f placed here ?
So all day lonp the noise of battle roll'd
Amonj^ ;he mountains h\ the winter sea ;
Until Kinj; Arthur's Table, man by man.
Had fall'n in Lyonnesse about their lord,
King Arthur. Then, because his wound was deep.
The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him,
And bore him to a chapel nigh the field.
A broken chancel with a broken cross.
That stood on a dark strait of barren land :
On one side lay the Ocean, and on one
Lay a great water, and the moon was full.
Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere :
" The sequel of to-da>' unsolders all
The goodliest fellowship of famous knights
Where of this world holds record. Such a sleep
They sleep— the men I loved. I think that we
Shall never more, at any future time,
Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds.
Walking about the gardens and the halls
Of Camelot, as in the days that were.
I perish by this people which I made, —
Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again
To rule once more — but, let what will be, be,
I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm
That without help I cannot last till morn.
Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur,
Which was my pride : for thou rememberest how
In those old days, one summer morn, an arm
Rose up from out the bosom of the lake,
15"
16:;
175
134. A broken— cross. Why is
the chapel thus represented ? See
Critical estimate, 11. 89-99.
155-157. Note the effect on the
picture of the sentence "the moon
was full."
159. The sequel of to-day.
Explain.
161-162. Such— loved. Explain
the bearing of this remark.
163. Account for the redundancy
in this line.
i6S-i6g. Merlin— again. Quote
Merlin's words. What do they sym-
bolize?
172-183. Why does King Arthur
here expect obedience from Sir
Bedivere ?
173-17S. Give a more detailed
account of this incident. What is
symbolized by "The Lady of the
Lake"?
i
i £
ii!
I'M a
180
206 ADVANCEP READER.
Clotheil in white saiv.ite, mystic, wonderi'ul,
Hoklinf? the sword — and how I low'd across
And took It. and have worn it, hke a king ;
And, wheresoevti I am siuif,' or told
In aftertinif, this also shall be known :
But now delay not : take Excalibnr,
And fling him far into the middle mere :
Watch what thou seiist and lightly bring me word."
To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere :
185 " It is not meet, Sn- King, to leave thee thus,
Aidless, alone, and smitten thro" the helm.
A little thing may harm a wounded man ;
Yet I thy best will all perform at full,
Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word."
,go So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept,
And in the moon athwart the place of tombs,
Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men.
Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang
Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down
,95 By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock,
Came on the shining levels of the lake.
There drew he forth the brand Excalibur,
And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon.
Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth
200 And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt :
For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks,
Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-w^ork
Of subtlest jewellery. He gazed so long
That both his eyes were dazzled as he stood,
205 This way and that dividing the swift mind.
179. told. What form would be Note the change of construction in
required in prose ? j "over them." What would prose
I So. this also. What?
182. him. Remark on the figure.
185. Sir King. Account for the
title.
191-194. Explain "in the moon,"
and show its grammatical relation.
i require here ?
198-200. the winter moon-
-hilt.
Point out the uiiusual niudc of ex-
pression.
205-206. This way — throw. Ex-
plain fully by a paraphrase.
TflS.WSOS.
207
In act to tlirow : but at the last it seeni"d
Better to leave Excalilnir coiiceal'd
There in the tnany-knotted watcrila^^s,
That whistled stiii' and dry about the niar^'e.
So strode he back slow to the wounded Kin^.
Then spake KinK Arthur to Sir liedivere:
" Hast thou perform'd my mission which 1 f,Mve ?
What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard ? "
And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere :
" I heard the ripple washing in the reeds,
And the wild Avater lapping' on the crag."
To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale:
" Thou hast betray 'd thy nature and thy name,
Not renderiiig true answer, as beseem'd
Thy feahy, nor like a noble knight :
For surer sign had foUow'd, either hand.
Or voice, or else a motion of the mere.
This is a shameful thing for men to lie.
Yet. now I charge thee, quickly go again.
As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing
I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word."
Then went Sir Bedi^-ere the second time
Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere,
Counting the dewy pebbles, fix"d in thought ;
But when he saw the wonder of the hilt,
How curiously and strangely chased, he smote
His palms together, and he cried aloud :
315
223
230
r
I
ftj
209. Note the Imitative Harmony.
How secured ?
210. See (12, IV., 4)
214. Explain the use of "bold" in
this place.
218. thy nature and thy name.
Explain.
224. On what plea does King
Arthur now claim obedience from
Sir Bedivere?
229. Counting — pebbles. Com-
ment on this.
231. How— chased. What is the
grammatical relation of this ellipti-
cal sentence ?
231-232. smote— together. What
is indicated by this gesture?
•1 I m
I ■ i'i ^ ■: (
'i]U H
Il:l'
i'J-.
'mU
208 ADVANCED READER.
*• And if indeed I cast the brand away
Surely a precious thinj,', one wortliy note,
935 Should thus he lost forever from the earth,
\\ hich niij^dit have pleased the eyes of many men.
What ^'ootl siuuild follow this, if this were done ?
What harm, undone ? De<'p harm to disobey,
Seeing obedience is the bond of rule.
940 Were it well to obey then, if a king demand
An act unprolitable, af,'ainst hunself?
'I'he Kinf,' is sick, ami knows not what he does.
What record, or what relic of my lord
Should be to aftertime, but empty breath
»45 And rumors of a doubt ? But were this kept,
Stoied in some treasure-house of mif^hty kings.
Some one mi};ht show it at a joust of arms,
vSaying, ' King Arthur's sword, Excalilvnr,
Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake.
350 Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps
Upon the hidden bases of th.' hiUs.'
So might some old man spe;ik m Hie aftertime
To all the people, winning re\'erenc':.
But now much honor and much fame were lost."'
ass So spake he, clouded with his own conceit ;
And hid Excalibur the second time.
And so strode back slow to the wounded King.
Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily :
" What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard ? "
a6o And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere :
" I heard the water lapping on the crag,
And the long ripple washing in the reeds."
To w^hom replied King Arthur, much in wrath :
" Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue.
233-254. State briefly the argu- ; 250-251. sitting — hills.
ments by which Sir Bedivere tries here symbolized ?
to convince himself that his course
is proper.
What is
TESMYSOS.
2cig
UnkniKhtly, traitor-heartml 1 Woi' is me !
Authority forpfets a living kin^.
Laiil wi(io\v'(l of the power in his eye
That bf^\-''l the will. I see thee what thou art.
Vol <uou, IK- latest-left of all my kui^^hts,
111 V h'lm she ;l(l meet the offices of all,
'riio. •nldst betray me for the precious hill .
Either t oi-. iust of goUl, or hke a girl
Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes.
^■et, for a man may fail in tluty twice.
And the third time may prosper, get thee hence
15nt. if thou spare to tling Excalibur.
1 will arise anil slav thee with my hands."'
»6i
n>
iT\
Then quickh' rose Sir licdivere. and ran.
Anil, leaping down the ridgi's lightly, plunged
Among the bulrushdieds. and clutch'd the sword,
And strongly wheel'd ,nul threw it. The great brand
Made lightnings in the splendor of the moon,
And flasliing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch.
Shot like a streamer i)f ;''^ northern morn.
Seen where the moving i.sies of winter shock
l}y night, with noises of the Northern Sea.
So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur :
lUit ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm
(.lothed in white samit<', mystic, wonderful,
And caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him
Three times, and drew him under in the mere.
And lightly went the other to the King.
380
->8,s
290
266, Authority— king.
268. what thou art.
prammatical relation.
Archaism.
Give the force of
273-
276. The earlier
•• throw" for "fling."
for the change.
277. Observe the
Explain.
State the
Note the
giddy."
edition reads
Give a reason
course King
Arthur now takes to secure obe-
dience. What effect has it on our
CF'-nateof his character, even in this
V ivd and desolate hour of seeinins.^
failure? What is allegorically signi-
fied by Sir Bedivere's disobedience?
284-2S5. li.xplain "streamer —
morn," and " ni<ning isles of winter
shock," For character of Simile
see 11. 20-22.
Hi
2 1 o AD VANCED READER.
Then spoke King Arthur, drawing thicker breath
" Now see I by thine eyes tliat this is done.
=95 Speak out : what is it thou hast heard, or seen ? "
And an'jwer made the bold Sir Bedivere :
" Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems
Should blind my purpose, for I never saw.
Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die,
300 Not tho' I live three lives of mortal men,
So great a miracle as yonder hilt.
Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him ;
But when I look'd again, behold an arm.
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
305 That caught him by the hilt, and brandish 'd him
Three times, and drew him under in the mere."
And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard :
" My end draws nigh ; 'tis time that I were gone.
Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight,
310 And bear me to the margin ; yet I fear
My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die."
So saying, from the pavement he half rose,
Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm,
And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes
31s As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere
Remorsefully regarded thro' his tears,
And would have spoken, but he foimd not words ;
Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee,
O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands,
310 And rising bore him thro' the place of tombs.
But, as he walk'd. King Arthur panted hard,
Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed
When all the house is mute. So siqh'H the King,
298. blind my purpose.
the figure. (12, IV., 21.)
Explain 314-315 looking — picture. Bring
out the full force of this effective
description.
308. What does Arthur's expecta- I 322323. Like— mute. Cf. 11. 20-
iion repr. ent allegorically ? j 22.
^i*'^
TENNYSON.
211
V'i
330
335
Muttering and murmuring at his ear, " Quick, quick !
1 fear it is too late, and I shall die.""
lUit the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge.
Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walk'd.
Larger than human on th : frozen hills.
He heard the deep behiiul him, and a cry
Ik'fore. His own thought drove hiin like a goad.
Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves
And barren chasms, and all to left and right
The bare b'ack clifl' clang"d round him, as he based
His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang
Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels—
And on a sudden, lo ! the level lake.
And the long glories of Hie winter moon.
Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge,
Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern,
15eneath them ; and descending they were "ware
That all the decks were dense with stately forms
Hlack-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream— by these
Three Queens with crowns of gold : and from them rose
A cry that shiver'd to the tingling stars.
And, as it were one voice, an agony 345
Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills
All night in a waste land, where no one comes.
Or hath come, since the making of the world.
Then murmur"d Arthur, " Place me in the barge."
So to the barge they came. There those three Queens 350
Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept.
34°
f
327-328. Clothed - hills. Show
that the description is true lo life.
331-335. Dry— heels. Remark on
the Imitative Harmony.
536-337. And— moon. Note here
the effect produced on all that has
preceded by the rich flash of the con-
trast of this fine picture. Explain
"long glories."
342-343. like a dr?am. Show the
effect of this Simile on the descrip-
tion. Explain "by these." Ciive an
account of the three (Jueens. What
in the Allegory do they represent?
What is symbolized by the act that
has caused their presence ?
344. Aery— stars. Explain fully
the force of "shiver'd ' and "ting-
ling," and cf. 1. 329.
346-348. like— world. Cf. 11. 20-22.
It- mi\ ■: \
212
ADVA>:CKD READER.
But she, that rose tlie tallest of them all
And fairest, laid his head upon her lap,
And loosed the shatter'd cascjue, and chafed his hands.
355 And call'd him by his name, complaining loud,
And dropping bitter tears against a brow
Striped with dark blood : for all his face was white
And colorless, and like the wither'd moon
Smote by the fresh beam of the s]>ringing east ;
360 And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with drops
Of onset ; and the light and lustrous curls —
That made his foreliead like a rising sun
High from the dais-throne — were parch'd with dust :
Or, clotted into points auvl hanging loose,
365 Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed his lips.
So like a shatter'd cohnnn lay the King;
Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest,
From sjnir to plume a star of tournament.
Shot thro' the lists at Clamelot, and charged
570 iiefore the eyes of ladies and of kings.
Then loudly cried tiie bold Sir Bedivere :
"Ah ! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go?
Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes ?
For now 1 see the true okl times are tlead,
375 When every morning brought a noble chance,
And every chance brought out .; noble knight.
Such times have not been since the light that led
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh.
But now the whole Round Table is dissolved
380 Which was an image of the mighty world,
And I, the last, go forth comjianionless,
And the days darken round me, and the years,
Among new men, strange faces, other minds."
352'353 the tallest— and fairest, plain the Metaphor. How is it car-
Which of the three (Jiieens was this ' ried out ?
358-359. like -east. BriiiK out 377-37^^ the light— myrrh. Kx-
tho beauty of this tij^ure, explaining plain the reference,
fully •• wither',] " and •' springing. ' 3^,^ ^hich world. Develop this
36S. a star ot tournament. Ex- thought.
TENNYSON.
^13
390
395
And slowly answer'd Arthur from the barj^e :
" The old order chanp^eth, yielding place to new, 385
And God fulfils hi—iself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrujit the world.
Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?
I have lived my life, and that which I have done
May He within himself make pure ! but thou.
If thou should'st i-ever see my face again.
Fray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice
Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
For what are men better than sheep or goats
That nourish a blind life within the brain.
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer
Both for themselves and those who call them friend ?
For so the whole round earth is every way
Bound by gold chains about the feet of (lod.
But now farewell. I am going a long way
With those thou seest— if indeeil I go
(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) —
To the island- valley of Avilion ;
W here falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies
Deep-meadow"d, happy, fair with orcharddawns
And bowery hollows crown"d with summer sea.
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound."
So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 4»o
]\Ioved from the brink, like some fulbbreasted swan
That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the llood
With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Hedivere
400
40s
386-387.God— world. "No chanRe, j 404-409. What is here shadowed
nopro^rcss." Develop this generally, forth?
jf/). nourish — brain. Explain. 4or)-40cj. Notr the contrast with
399-400. For-God. Note the i the author's previous descriptions .)f
extreme beauty of this fiRure. De- scenery. Kxplam "crown <1 with
velop it fully, show its bearing on summer sea. ( f. 1. 404.
what precedes, and quote from other I 41 i-.j 14. like -webs. <"!' 11 io-
poets similar expressions. i 22.
i \\
'i
'15 I !
lis I ■
■ • 'i
-'■:.^t
ij-j..
4»5
490
425
430
435
440
214 ADVANCED READER.
Revolvinf:^ many memories, till the hull
Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn,
And on the mere the wailing died away.
Whereat he slowly tiirn'd and slowly clomh
The last hard footstep of that iron crag;
Thence mark'd the black hull moving yet, and cried,
" He passes to be King among the dead,
And after healing of his grievous wound
He comes again ; but — if he come no more —
O me, be yon dark Queens in yon black boat,
Who shriek'd and wail'd, the three whereat we gazed
On that high day, when, clothed with living light.
They stood before his throne in silence, friends
Of Arthur, who should help him at his need ? "
Then from the dawn it seem'd there came, but faint
As from beyond the limit of the world.
Like the last echo born of a great cry.
Sounds, as if some fair city were one voice
Around a king returning from his wars.
Thereat once more he moved about, and clomb
Ev'n to the highest he could climb, and saw,
Straining his eyes beneath an arch of hand.
Or thought he saw, the speck that bare the King,
Down that long water opening on the deep
Somewhere far off, pass on and on, and go
From less to less and vanish into light.
And the new sun rose bringing the new year.
416. verge of dawn. Explain.
417. Here originally the poem
ended. "The author's sense of pro-
portion urged him to bring oui fully
the moral of the Allegory." Explain.
418. clomb. Why are such forms
introduced ?
423. See (12, IV., .^G.)
424-428. Give a full account of the
event here referred to, explaining
"high day," and "clothed — light."
429-433- What does this shadow-
forth ?
438. the deep.
bolized ?
442. Develop the bearing of this
line on the meaning of the poem.
Cf. 11. 385-387. Why 15 the poc-m
called " The Passing of Arthur " ?
What is here sym-
TENNYSON ^15
SIR C, A LA HAD.
, T„ Kinir \rtlinr's LTcrit iKill at Carnclot "stood a vacant
lSTRom;cTORV^-InKn«A t urs^^^^^^^ IVnlous," in which
'^:"^nSn'S^^u'u;\^ sh;:;ia'lose himsoif.' In, this sat .lo.n ..ne
:umm">rsersir Galahad, the purest of Arthurs kn^hts,
lose myself, I save myself."
ne purest di .viimi.. .^ ,»...^....-,
Then all at once were heard —
crying.
If 1
•' A crackiiiK and a rivinn ol the roofs,
And ren.lint;, ami a hl.iM, aii.l ovciiiead
Thun.UT, au.l in llio t)uin.U r w.is •-»'•'■>•
And in the lilast thi'ie snioti' alonK t i..' li.ill
A .Lam of li.lu, seven tinu-s n.ore c e.jr than day :
And down the lonw bean, stole the lo\v C.ail
All over cover.-d witli a hniiinons cloud, _
And none niinht sec who bare it, and it past.
Thereupon mnny of .he ».»n.*:J Ui«h,, ™. ™^ l;--
r,^rTS"ro;'strV[;thar,;M»i'r,V^^Lr.'hou«hheh.>»cc,,,,.,,ch,,,,
heard a cry—
" O Gahihad, and O Galahad, follow inc : "
Throughout Sir Galahad's quest the " Holy Thing" never failed from In.
side, nor, as he tells Sir Percivale, come
" Covered, but niovinj; with mc ninht and day,
!•■ linter bv dav, but ahv ivs mi tin- uikIH
Blood red. and sliding; down the bl.tckend marsh
Blood-red, .ind on the n.iked niountam !op
Blooil-red, and in the sleej-itm mere beiow
Bloo.l-red. Ami in this slreimth 1 ro,U',
mvitterini; all evil customs eveiywl\ere,
A d 1 • s Ouo' I'.iKan realms, .md m.ule them mine ;
And ciashe.l will. I'.i.an hordes, and bore them down,
And broke thro' all."
in the end the heavens open and blaze ^ .. thunder, -ch^- -t:::r ar^'r!
shoutu.gsofthesonsof .^^^^^^ ,i,, .. 4 in the
Q^''L rr'itv- Hv TSnlc^ss idealizatio of his theme, the poc-t ex-
^^^nZ fol^in. ivrical "--|-'- ^^^c ^sSL "Ca monU
S^aiden knight, ->- ^ ;; a -- - mu h m>st. .;-;^''^ ^^^,^., ,,,
rdaiir^S^ereJe^on^cal^^l^i'y appreciate the sound.ng melody, the
knightly, heroic ring."
My good blade carves the casques ol
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
;:en,
j;--^:;^r^:.'^^riSei;^^'tr;i™;.:«h,rr.=
SSSe HhVr in .he? ,n.Tine Uu ! Ihe hequen. .mi.a.iv. Harmony.
one of each stanza. Which final j
word is without its corresponding
rhyme ? Observe closely the peculiar
1-2. What metrical effect here?
Elocutionary
-What Quality, Force. Pitch, and Time are required '
i !
2l6
ADVANCED PIADER
m
■■ :i M
My strengt!i is as the stren . -Ii of ten,
liccause m\ heart is pure.
The shatteriiij( trumpet shrilleth high,
The hard brands -hive on the said.
The sphnter'd spear-sliafts crack and fly,
The Iiorse and rider reel;
They reel, tliey roll in clangin;- lists.
And when the tide of combat stands,
Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
That lightly rain from ladies' hands.
How sweet are looks tljat ladies bend
On whom their favors fall !
For them I battle till the end.
To save from shame ant! thrall ;
But all my heart is drawn above,
My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine
I never felt the kiss of love.
Nor maiden's hand in mine.
More bounteous aspects on me beam,
Me mightier transports move and thrill ;
So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer
A virgin heart in work and will.
4. What characteristic of Sir
fialahad is here displayed? Show
that it is poetically just.
5-9- Cf. 11. I and 2. Explain the
epithets "shattering" and "high."
5-12. What bearing have these
lines on the unity of the poem ?
(I J, III., 5,) Wliat has suggested
the picture.'
i3-:4 Contrast the Harmony c
this ■ ea with that of the precei
ing Oiie. (ij, III., I and 2.)
' 17-20. Bring out the full force of
, this in contrast with the preceding
I lines. What characteristic of Sir
Galahad is here displayed ? Observe
throughout the repetition of the per-
sonal reference. Is it poetically
just ^f. 1. 4. f y
CO
\ Show that these four lines
..' the central thoughts of the
Explain "So." Mark the
iKJudily of sentiment in 11. 23 and
J. Pause after "My strength." Empi ■ .. -ten."
10. W' hat inflection on "stands"? i; ,. t— above
22. Pause after "me." Emphasize " migntier,
Emphatic,
move." "thrill "
rrn'
TEWYSOS.
Wlien clown the stormy crescent kocs,
A li^lit before nie swims.
Between dark stems the forest ^'lows,
I hear a noise of hymns;
Then by some secret shrine I riile ;
I hear a voice, but none are tliere;
The stalls are void, the doors are wide.
The tapers burning; fair.
Fair gleams the snowy aUar-cloth,
The silver vessels sparkle clean,
The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,
And solemn chants resound between.
'5
30
35
Sometimes on loiicly mountain-meres
I find a magic bark ;
I leap on board : no helmsman steers :
I iioat till all is dark.
A gentle sound, an awful light!
Three angels bear the Holy Grail:
With folded feet, in stoles of white,
On sleeping wings they. sail.
Ah, blessed vision ! blood of God !
My spirit beats her mortal bars,
As down dark tides the glory slides,
And star-like mingles with the stars.
40
45
23. To thoroughly understand
what follows, it is important to know ^
the trait in Sir Galahad's character,
which the poet hereafter develops.
Explain. See Introductory.
25. stormy crescent. What? Why
" stormy " ?
26-28. Account for this illusion. ]
Noise. E.Kplain. Note that Cole- I
ridge speaks of "a noise as of a
hidden brook, that to the sleeping
woods all night singeth a quiet ;
tune." How does the "forest " glow ■
between "dark stems " ?
30. I hear- there. Explain.
33-34. See(iJ, IV., 27.)
38. magic bark. What makes this
"a magic bark" ?
42. Give an account of the Holy
Grail. Who were supposed to be
able to see it ?
46. My spirit -bars. Paraphrase
this, and bring out fully the meaning
of "beats" and "bars." Illustrate
by quotations.
25. Pause after "down." 30. Voice, none. What inflection?
3G. Slowly and solemnly. 41-44. Gentle force.
I^M
' /
2l8
50
55
60
63
70
75
ADVAXCED READER.
When on my goodly charger borne
Thro' dreaming towns I go,
The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
The streets are dumb with snow.
The tempest crackles on the leads,
And, ringing, springs from brand and mail
But o'er the dark a glory spreads.
And gilds the driving hail.
I leave the plain, I climb the height ;
No branchy thicket shelter yields ;
But blessed forms in whistling storms
P'ly o'er waste fens and windy fields.
A maiden knight — to me is given
Such hope, I know not fear ;
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
That often meet me here.
I muse on joy that will not cease.
Pure spaces clothed in living beams.
Pure lilies of eternal peace,
Whose odors haunt my dreams ;
And, stricken by an angel's hand.
This mortal armor that I wear,
This weight and size, this heart and eyes,
Are touch'd, are turned to finest air.
The clouds are broken in the sky,
And thro' the mountain-walls
A rolling organ -harmony
Swells up, and shakes and falls.
49-Go. Note the use of Contrast
throughout this stanza.
51. Why is the "Christmas morn"
especially referred to? Show that
it is relevant to what follows.
Gi-72. Observe in this and the
following stanza the increasing spirit-
ual rapture.
66-68. Explain this beautiful pas-
sage, with especial reference to
"clothed in living beams,"
" lilies of eternal peace."
and
69-72. What, in ordinary life, cor-
responds remotely to this condition
of rapt enthusiasm ? What is sym-
bolized by the phrase "stricken by
an angel's hand" ?
7,1-80. What is shadowed forth by
these lines ?
75-76. Orotund. Why?
TENNYSON.
Then move the trees, tlie copses nod,
Wings flutter, voices hover clear;
"O just and faithful knight of God!
Ride on! the prize is near."
So pass 1 hostel, hall, and grange ;
By bridge and ford, by park and pale.
AU-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide.
Until I find the Holy Grail.
!I9
80
"BREAK, BREAK, BREAK"
INTRODUCTORY.-Tennyson's power of putting Nature under contribu-
tion to hdp h?.^ in his delineations of moods of feeling ■ condned to
Si lylls It ^equally marked in sonu of his lyncs. '''^^rve, savs
Mr K H Hutton whose essay on Tennyson is invaluable, ■•how,,n the
following poem, the wash of the sea on the cold gray stones .s u ed to
reD-,!" the mind for the feeling of helplessness with which the deeper
emotions brea^ against the hard and rigid elements of human speech ; how,
tl en this picture is widened out till you see the bay with children laug 1-
m- on s shore, and the sailor-boy laughing on its surface, an<l the state
shii"s n-isstng on in the offing to the unseen haven, all with the view of help-
ing' us^uffeel^he contrast between the satisfied and unsatisfied yearnings
S^ri^^uman heart The song then returns to the he pless breaking of
?he sea T?he foot of crags it cannot climb, not this time to express the
I'^dequacy of hSman spee'ch to express hur.an vearnings, but the defeat
of those very yearnmgs themselves.
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,
Tiiat he sings in his boat on the bay !
Describe the versification.
79-80. High pit.
2-j. What, probably, is the per-
sonal reference in the p^em ?
Is
.1 i
' »■
22()
UH i
15
ADVAXCED READER.
And the st;)ff>'' sliips go on
To liicir liaven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish'd 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 !
THE EAGLE.
Fiauinent.
Hr cla ,ps the crag with crooked haniis;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
King'd with the azure world, he i^tands.
Tlie wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watcl^.'s from his mountain walls, '
And like a thundeibolt he falls.
mi
Tennys,m-smodeoftreatmen;indica,^? ''' '^^ V .ctonan age does
2. Show wherein Tcnn\-n„'s account ot " Th^ P-i^ina" riwv r
Malory's •■ Morte," and ■ uur.t for the umissioll.nd S^es " ''''"'
3. DevJop as T " , as possible the Allegory as applied to "The Passing '•
an'idyn°" ' '^" ''"' conformed his poem to the definition of
5- Name Tenny.son's other Arthurian i UIls and tracp thn At1«„^.
throughout the series. ^^^ *'"^ A'legory
0. What characteristics of the Victorinn no-f. ^ tu^ ^ i-
illustrate ' (See English Literature PHmer pp' xCG-xe; r^'"^ ^"^""^
7. Memorize " Sir Galahad " and " Break, break, break."
Composition.
^oiS^'^i!^''}:^^;^ the composition
been-brought otSi by U^eTueSron'^^.Vr ^ .^^J^ty:':^' 5n"'^^^^^^^^^ ^'"'^
been developed in the course of the lessons ' ' '■ ^ ™''^' "^'"^
HUXLEY.
BioGK i-mcAL.— Thomas Henry iluxky nas born on tlu- .\ih u\ Mav,
1S25 at Ealinp, Middlesex, England, ^xhcrt. ue received his early ediua-
ti.m' I-or the rest he is indebted cl :■ ib. to the works of Cailyle and
Mill to the diligent study of (iermai. literature, and to the example and
careful training of Wharton Jones, a distinguished En-lish physiologist ^
and anatomist. When <iuite a vouth, Huxley commenced the study of
medicine under his brother-in-law, .1 physician of some standing, and from
iS, ■ to 1845 continued his education at Sydenham Colle;-'e and at ( hanng
Cross Hospital Medirn School. Being too young to take his degree in
1846, he sought and obtained an appointment in connection with the Haslar 1-
Naval Hospital, near Portsmouth. Later, in the same year, he became
A.sistant-Surgeon in H. M. S. " Rattlesnake," then bound on an exploring
expedition oil the coast of Australia. During his five years' voyage he
collected a great amount of important scientific information, .ind sent home
notes of his observations, which were published in the ••Philosophical .^
Transactions." So highly were his cnmmunications valued, that in 1S51
he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society, and soon afterwards received
one of its medals. Huxley had now achieved a high rcputatiun as a
naturalist and comparative anatomist, and in 1854 was appointed to the
Chair of Natural History at the Royal School of Mines. In the following 20
,1 !
f
S '
!
I
i !
m
H
'
m
r^'
222
ADl'AXCED KEADEH.
year he became Fiillerian lYofessor of I 'hysiul( >>,'>• at the Royal Instiiuti,),,
and he has since fillet! the Hiinterian Chair of Comparative Anatomy and
I'hysiolofiv in connection with the Royal ColleKe of Surgeons. On the
I.ondon School Hoard, of uliich he was elected a member in 1H70, lir
»5 stronply opposed denominational teaching in State lulucation. He has
held the hiKhest positions in various scientific Societies, and, by his
lectures before these and other institutions, has done much to popularize
the stilly of Natural Science, and to promote University education in
iinfjland.
)o PHtNCiPAU Works. -OAifmi</(;«s(>;, G/(»r/<Ts(i857) ■ A work written con-
jomtly with Tyndall, and printed in the " Philosophical Transactions "
On the Theory of the Vettebrate Sk„ll {1H5H) : A lecture delivered before the
Royal Society. The Oceanic Hydrozou (i^yj) : A description of certain ma-
rine animals observed during his voyage in the " Rattlesnake." Evidence
35 as to Mans Place in Nature (i8f.j); This volume consists of three essays
summing up the facts, uhich of late years have been the subject of dispute
in regard to anatomical resemblances between man and theanthropoid apes
In noticing Darwin's doctrine of Evolution, the author expresses his con-
viction that. " if not precisely true, the hypothesis is as near the truth as.
40 for example, the Copernican hypothesis was to the true theory of the
planetary motions." His views on this (piestion, however, have been
vigorously combated. Lectmes on Comparative Analomv (1864). Lessons on
Elementary Physiology (1866). An Introduction to the Classification of Ani-
nials{iS6<j). Lay Sermons, Addresses, and Kevic7i's(iS7o):\ collection of
45 Addresses, etc., delivered from 1854 to 1870. some of which, especially the
Lay Sermon On the Physical Basis of Life, had provoked stormy criticism,
and obtained f.,r the author a large amount of notoriety. Manual of the
Anatomy of Vertebrate Animals {iHji). Critiques and Addresses (iSji) : A
volume similar to that of 1870. Elementary Biology (1875). Hume (1879) ■
50 A Biography contributed to the " English Men of Letters Series," and an
Analysis of Hume's Philosophy. Scientific Culture and other Essays (1881) :
Another volunjc of miscellaneous lectures and addresses. Besides the
preceding. Professor Huxley has written several works of minor import-
ance, and is the author of numerous papers published in the Transactions
55 and Journals of the Royal, the Linna^an, the Cieological. and the Zoologi-
cal Society, and in the Memoirs of the Geological Survey of Great Britain.
Critical.— The Victorian age is the age of Science. For the last fifty
years the study of nature has eng. ossed the attention of many of the most
active intellects, and its influence has been felt in all departments of human
60 thought. Of the leaders in the movement, Professor Huxley is one of the
most eminent, and in his knowledge of Palaeontology and Comparative
Anatomy he stands almost unrivalled. .\s a writer and lecturer he is
remarkable for the clearness and conCi:>eness of his style, and for his
ability to present the most abstruse subjects in simple, graceful language
"5 Like Tyndall, he is a good illustration of the modern union of Science and
' i fe
HiXLI'Y.
223
I iterature. some of his compositions beiiiK conceived in the spirit of a
noft and adorned svith all the devices of a literary artist, A bold and
ictis'e inquirer, he is also an admirable representative of the spirit of
ni.Klern philosophy. " Men of Science," he says. " do not pledge th.in-
selves to creeds; thev are bound by articU-s of no sort; there is not a 70
MHi-le belief that it is not a boinulen duty with them to hold with a hj^ht
h iml and to part with cheerfully the moment it is really proved to be con-
trary' to any fact, t,'reat or small." Hut Professor Huxley himself isconspic-
uous no less for the caution with which he weiKhs his facts before de.luc-
inn a conclusion, than for the conscientious fearlessness with which he 75
enunciates it when deliberately formed.
THE sciENTU'ic srn<rr in modern thought.
From "On the Advisableness of IinprovinK Natur.il KnuwlLdne."
This time two hundred years a^^o— in the bc^Mnnin^' of Jan-
uary, 1666— those of our forefathers who inhabited this ^reat
and ancient city took breath between tlie shocks of two feartul
( alamities : one not quite past, altlioiigli its fmy liad abated ;
the other to cotne. *
Within a few yards of the very spot on which we are
assembled, so the tradition runs, that painful and deadly
malady, the plague, appeared in the latter months of 16^4 ;
and, thouf^di no new visitor, smote the people ot EnKhmd, and
especially of her capital, with a violence unknown before, in .0
the course of the following year. The hand of a master
lias pictured what happened in those dismal months ; and in
that truest of fictions. The History of the Plague Year, Defoe
LiTi KAR . —In what year was this 1
address delivered ? Throughout the \
selection point out the authors skill
as shown in his choice of language .,
and sentences, his use of figurative
language, and his ability to pass with
graceful ease from one paragraph to
another.
1-5. Note the means the author
takes in this paragraph to excite at-
tention. How many of the following
paragraphs are directly expository of
this one ?
1-19. Classify the sentences in these
paragraphs. Show wherein the lan-
guage differs from that of ordinary
prose.
2-3. this— city. What city ? Show
that " shocks" is apt.
O-19. Show that this paragraph
illustrates Critical estimate, 11. G2-67.
8. Distinguish "latter" from
1 "later."
i 9. no new visitor. Justify this
statement.
9-1 1. Point out, with reasons, a
better arrangement of the phrases in
the text.
13. truest of fictions. Explain
fully this criticism.
1 r
, ' m
224
.i/>r.LVC£j) A- /-.ID A a:
, I
shows iVatli. with every acconipaiiinient of pain and terror
• 5 stalking' throii-h the narrow streets of old London, and
chan^ni^^ their l)iis> hnni into a silence broken only by the
waihnj,' of the mourners of fifty thousand dead ; by the woful
denunciations and mad prayers of fanatics; and by the
madder yells of di'spairiuf,' proili^Mtes.
'- J5ut, about this time in 1 066, the death-rate had sunk to
nearly its ordinary amount ; a case of j,la-ue occurred onl\
iicre and there, and (he richer citizens who had tioxyn from
the pest had return.'.l to their dwellin-s. The remnant -A
the i)eople be-an to toil at the accustomed round of ihitv
^5 or of pleasure ; and the stream of city life bid fair to flow
I'ack along its old bed, with renewed and uninterrupted
vigor.
The newly-kindled hope was deceitful. The great plague
indeed, returned no more; but whal it had done for thj
3o Lon(h,ners, the great fire, which broke out in the autun;;,
of i666. did f„r London ; and, in September of tiaat year
a heaj) ot ashes, and the indestructible energy of the people
were all that remained of the glory of five-sixtiis of the city
within the walls.
33 (Jur forefathers had their own ways of accounting for a-h
of these calamities. They submitted' to the plague in hmmhty
and in penitence, for they believed it to be the ju.lgment of
<jo,l. l!ut towards the iire they were furiously indignant
niterpretmg it as the eflVct of the malice of man,-as the
4"Uork of the Kepublicans, or of the I'apists, according a^
their prepossessions ran in favor of loyalty or of Puritanism
I? fifty thousand dead. What
Kind (jf st.iifiiuMU wuiiid .1 purclv
scientific exposition require ?
24-^3. K.yplain the use of "toil"
HI connection with "pleasure." Crit-
icise " hid "
^5-~7- the stream - vigor. Distin-
Knish the ineaninK' and character of
this sentence from tliose of tlie pre-
ceding one.
■J«-34 The — deceitful. Observe
will be noticed throughout that the
author passes Rracefullv and easily
from one iiaraKraph to another. See
(12, 111., 5 and 7.) Account for the
use of " indestructible,"
35-41 • Compare the structure of
this paragraph with that of the pre-
ceditig one.
3«- towards the fire. Why placed
thus i!i the sentence ?
-41 as the work Puritanism.
HUXLEY.
It would, 1 faucv, have fared hut ill with one who. standin-
uhere I now stand, in what was then a thirklv peopled aud
iashionable part of London, should have broaelu.l to our
ancestors the doctrine which 1 now propound to you that 4^
,11 tiu'ir hypotheses were alike wron^^ ; that the plague was
w. more, in their sense, Divine judgment, than the Ine was
ihe work of any political, or of any religious, sect ; but tiiat
thiy were themselves the authors of l.olh pla-ue and Inv. and
that they nuist look to themselves to prevent the recurrence 50
„f" calamities, to all appearance so peculiarly bey.,nd the
reach of human control so evidently the result ol the wrath
,.f God or of the craft and subtlety of an enemy. ...
We have learned that pestilences will oid\ taki' up their
abode among those who have prepared unswept and iui^'ar- 55
nished residences for them. Their cities uuist have narrow,
unwatered streets, foul with accunudated Ka'l'aj^e. Their
liouses must be ill-drained, dldi-hted, ill-ventilated. Tin tr
subjects must be ill-washed, dl-fed, ill-clothed. The London
of 1G65 was such a city. The cities of the ICast. wlit re phi^^nie c
has an endurin},' dwelling, are such cities. We, in Liter tunes,
have learned somewhat of Nature, and partly obey her. He-
cause of this partial impro\c'menl of our natural knowledge
and of that fractional (obedience, we have no plague ; because
that knowledge is still '• ery imperfect and that obedience yet ^s
incomplete, typhus is our companion and cholera our visit. )r.
r.ut It is not presumptuous to express the belief that, when
our knowledge is more complete and our obeilience the expres-
sion of our knowledge, Loiulon will count her centuries ol
42. Explain the use of " It." |
42--,j. Hreak up this sentence into
sluirtuues.aucl thus show the author's
skill in condensation.
47. in their sense. Uring out fully
tliu forcf oi tliis phia.se.
54-56. We—thev. Criticise the
order of the words. Sei- also (12,
in, J.) What is the Allusion in
"unswept and ungarnished " ?
54-73. Toiut out in this paragraph
the deviations from the "dry style"
of scientific exposition.
56-39. Their. Whose' See (1,;
IV,, :.$) anil (u. 111. ■'■■)
59-01 The London cities. See
(1^ IV., .;5-)
(>,V natural knowledge, llxplain
64. fractional obedience. Mow
also expressed ,'
O2-OG. Because visitor. Note the
balanced structure li^, HI . - )
! 66. Show the f»)rce of "eonipan-
' ion '■ and " visitor ' C'f "enduring
dwelling," ! '>i.
226
Ain'AS'CED RKADER.
11
m\[
70 freedom from t\'phiis and cholera, as she now gratcfi
reck
ons lier two Iiiindred \ea
rs of
i;,'norance of that nla
which swooped ui)on her tlirice in the first half of tl
teenth centiir\-.
ill\
le seven
Surely, there is nothintr in th
ese explanations which is i
101
75 fully borne out by the facts ? Surely, the principles involved
in them are now admitted amonj,' the fixed beli(;fs of all think
inf,' men ? Surely, it is true that our countrymen are less
subject to fire, famine, pestilence, and all the evils which
result from a want of command over and due anticipation u\
80 the course of Nature, than were the countrymen of Milton;
and health, wealth, and well-bein^' are more abundant with u>
than with them ? Jiut no less certainly is the difference du(
to the improvement of our knowledf^e of Nature, and tlu
extent to which that improved knowledj^a- has been incor-
85 })orated with the household words of men, and has supplied
the sprini^-^s of their daily actions.
(irantiuf; for a moment, then, the truth of that which tlu
depreciators of natural knowled«(e are so fond of urj^nnj^s that
its iin})rovement can only add to the resources of our material
.." civilization ; admitting,' it to be possible that the founders ot
the Royal Society themselves looked for no other reward th.iii
this, I cannot confess that 1 was ^Miilty of exa>,'f,^eration when
I hinted that to him who had the ;i,Mft of distin^aiishin^
between prominent events and important events, the origin oi
95 a combineil eflort on the part of mankind to improve natural
knowledge might have loomed larger than the Plague and
7.|-S.>. Show l)(iu- tlu" .-Hithor em-
phasizes his confidence in liis opin-
ions. (12, IV., J 5 and nj.)
74-100. Point (jut in these para-
graplis the deviations from the " dry
style " of scientific exposition
.So the countrymen of Milton.
Account for the iim' of this phr.tM-.
85-86 household words actions.
Illustrate what is meant.
>") 9" resources civilization. Mx-
plain. and name other kind., of civii-
izatiun.
yo-02. admitting -this. Comment
on this admission. Distin^^uish
"^rantiuK ' from "admitting "
«)j. I-xj)lain the force of the tense
of " had."
9-j lllustratj-thediffercnce between
■prominent events" and "import-
ant events." What is the test of the
historical imp<jrtance of an event -
Wliat is meant by " historical pro-
portion " ?
93-9(J a combined — knowledge.
Explain the reference, and classifv
according to the author the events
dealt with in this paragraph.
f
UiXLllV
•-»•> —
,,vc outshone the fjlare of the Fire; as a soiiuthiti^^ fr.m-ht
v.itl a wealth of luiuticence to inankiml, in ronip.nisou with
uhich thi- damage ilone by those K^haslly evils wouUl sliniik
into iiisiK^niljcance.
It is very certain that, for every victun slam by lli«' I lat:nc.
hundreds of mankind exist, and find a fan- share of happnuss
,11 the world, by the aid of .the spinning,' u^nny. And iii«-
(lieat Fire, at its worst, couKl not have burned the supply ;>t
r,.al. the daily working' of which, in the hu\\v\s i>\ \hr earlli. .
made possible by the steam-pump, ^ives risi- t.) an amMuut ..t
uialtli to which the millions lost in old London .ire bui as an
(lid sonj;.
lint spiiniinj^-jenny and steam-i)umi) arc-, atlir alb but toys,
possessing an accidental value ; and natural knowledge creates ..-^
inuliitmles of more subtle contrivances, the praists of which
,1.. not happen to be sun>,' because they are not directly (on-
VI itible into instruments for creating,' wealth. . . .
I cannot but think tliat the foimdations of all natural
kni)\vled^'e were laid when tlie reason of man first canu- fa.e ..-,
to face with the facts of Nature : wluii the sava-e Inst l.arn.d
that the tnij^a-rs of oi-e hand are frntr tli.in ihosr ul both :
thai it is shorter to cross a stream than to head it ; that a
stone stops where it is unless it be moved, an.l that il drops
from the hand which !'ts it -o ; that li^dit and heat come and ..«
LTo with the sun ; that sticks burn away in a fne; that plants
and animals grow and die ; that if lie struck Ins fellow sava^re
a blow, he would make him angry, ami perhaps gel a blow ni
r.lurn; while if he ofTered him a fruit, he would please Inm.
and perhaps receive a hsh in exchange. When nun ha.l -^
a(<]uired this much knowledge, the outlines, rude though they
were, of mathematics, of physics, c^f chemistry, of biolo'-, , ot
moral, economical, and political science, were sketched. Nor
loi-ioS. What bciriiiR h-ive the
ihim«lits in this paragraph on what
jireccdes it ?
bee
ii.j-u(). I cannot Nature.
(I--, III...M
iJ5-i.;S When sketched. Sh-.u
I that this scniiMicf f;iii< nhzis the
109-110. after all. I araphrase | j,j^jg,^^^„j^ ;„ jy,^. prect;^lin^■om^
l■.xphun ■ toys value." I ^^^^^^^ Nor bud. Hxpressuith-
lu-iic more subtle -wealth. | out usin^' linurativc lan^uaK.'. Why
Illustrate this statement. 1 »» this subject dealt uith separately
■-^"^
I
228
ADr.lXCED READER.
i \
liijii!
ii
did the f^'erm of reli^'ion fail when science bej?an to hud
«3o Listen to words wiiich, thouf<h new. are yet three thousand
years old :
"... When in heaven the stars about the moon
Look beautiful, wlien all the winds are laid,
And ever)- height comes out, and jutting' peak
'35 And valley, and the immeasurable heavens
Urcak open to their hi.i,'lu'st, and all the stars
Shine, and the shepherd gladdens in his heart."
If the half-savaf,'e Greek could share our feelinj^^s thus far, it is
irrational to doubt that he went finther, to find, as we do, that
140 upon that brief ^dadness there follows a certain sorrow, — tin
little lif^dit of awakened hiunan intellif^auice shines so mere ;i
spark amidst tlie abyss of the imknown and miknowable :
seems so insufficient to do more than illminnate the imperfec-
tions that cannot be remedied, the aspirations that cannot be
145 realized, of man's own nature. But in this sadness, this
consciousness of the limitation of man, this sense of an open
secret which he cannot penetrate, lies the essence of all
reli<,don ; and the attempt to embody it in the forms furnished
by the intellect is the orij^dn of the hij^her theolof,des.
•50 Thus it seems impossible to imaj^ine but that the founda-
tions of all knowledf,^', secular or sacred, were laid when
intelli<,^encc dawned, t'ouj^di the superstructure remained for
lonf,' af,'es so sli^dit and feeble as to be compatible with the
existence of almost any j,^eneral view respectinj^^ the mode of
155 governance of the universe. No dotd)t, from the first, there
were certain phenomena which, to the rudest mind,- presented
a constancy of occurrence, and suggested that 1 fixed order
ruled, at any rate, among them. I doubt if the grossest of
I30-I3I. Listen — old. Explain
fully the reference.
132-137. Cf. " Thanatopsis," page
17G, 11. 1-3.
13*^- our feelings. Express these
in simj)le language.
140. a certain sorrow. By what
phrase in this paragraph does the
author express the cause of this
sorrow ?
1 45- '49 But— theologies. Com-
ment on the author's view as to the
I origin of "the higher theologies."
Explain "open secret." What is
meant by " forms furnished by the
intellect " ?
150-155 Thus— universe. What
relation does this statement bear to
the preceding context ? Note that it
affords also a graceful means of
transition to a further development
of the author's theorv.
158- at any rate. Paraphrase so
as to bring out the meaning.
m-\i.i:y
229
iaich-worshippcrs ever iina-iiied that a stone must have a
..o>l witluii it to make it fall, or that a fruit had a ^od within ,.,0
?t to make it taste sweet. With re-ar.l to such matters as
tiiese, it is hardly questionable that mankind from the lirst
took strictly positive and scientific views.
r.ut. with respect to all the less familiar occurrences whicli
present themselves, uncultured man, no <lonl.t, has always .<•.
I ikcu himself as the standard of comparison, as the centre
md measure of the world ; nor ccmld he wc-U avoid iloiu}; so
\nd finding' that his apparently uncaused will h.is a powvrh.l
rifect in Kivin- rise to many occurrences, he naturally enouuh
ascribed other and f,'reater events to other and K«eaier .7..
volitions, and came to look upon the world, and all that
tlierein is, as the product of the volitions oi pers(Mis like him-
self but stron-er, and capable of bein^ appi-ased or an;;ere. .
IS he himself im-ht be soothed or irritated. Throu-h such
conceptions of the plan and workm- of the universe all man- .75
kind have passed, or are passing'. And we may now consider
what has been the effect of the improvement ot natural know-
Icd.'c on the views of men who have reached this sta^e, and
who have begun to cultivate natural knowled^'e with no .lesire
but that of "increasing God's honor and bettering man s .s.
For* example : what could seem wiser, frc^n a mere material
point of view, more innocent, from a theological one, to an
ancient people, than that they should learn the exact succes-
sion of the seasons, as warnings for their husbandmen ; or the .85
position of the stars, as guides to their ru.le navigators ^ But
163 positive. Explain clearly.
164-ibi State brierty the subject
of this paragraph. How does the
author establish his thesis?
i(')7 nor -so. Why is this true ?
16S apparently uncaused will.
i:\plain, and shuvv the bearing U has
iin what follows
176-181. And we -estate. Why
"now '? (Jbserve the transitional
nature of this sentence. Whom does
the auth'.M' mean by '' m>Mi who have
reacheil this stage, " etc. ^
182. For e:'-ample. of what ?
iSj-iS{. Show frijni what follov
the full force of " wiser— one."
lAz-^oii. Dt'velop the scientific ron-
clusions slated in this paragraph.
Slate the "beliefs of their lathers"
which are at variance wilii tliese.
Classify the sentences.
iSj-2^1. Heniark on the gener.il
resemblance in the struruireof tliese
paragraphs. I'oi.u out in delail the
' bread" and the
to in 1. 20S.
•id
eas
referred
v s
I t
230
ADWlXCEn REAniiR.
what has fjrown out of this search for natural knowledj^'c
<'l so merely useful n rhararter ? Vou all know the reply.
Astronomy,— which of all sciences has filled men's minds with
•9offeneral ideas of a character most foreign to their daily experi-
ence, and has. more than any other, rendered it impossible
for them to accept the beliefs of their fathers. Astronomy,—
which tells them that this so vast and seennnj^dy solid eaitli
is but an atom anion-; atoms, whirlin-. no man knows whither.
-95 throuj^di illimitable space ; which demonstrates that what w<'
call till' peaceful heaven above us is but that space, filled b\
an inrmitely subtle matter whose particles are seething and
sur-ing, like the waves of an angry sea; which opens'up t..
us uihnite regions where nothing is known, or ever seems to
^u- have been known, but matter and force, operating according
to rigid rules; which leads us to contemplate phenomena the
very nature of which demonstrates that they must have had a
I)eginmng and that they must have an end, but the verv
nature of which also proves that the beginning was, to our
^o. conceptions of time, inrtnitely remote, and that the end is as
immeasurably distant.
But it is not alone those who pursue astronomy who ask
for bread and receive ideas. What more harmless than the
attempt to lift and distribute water by pumping it; what
-... more absolutely and grossly utilitarian ? Hut out of pumps
grew the discussions about iNatures abhorrence of a vacuum-
an.I then it was discovered that Nature does not abhor a
vacuum, but that air has weight : and that notion paved the
way lor the doctrine that all matter has weight, and that the
... force which }M-oduces weight is co(>xtensive with the universe,
~m short, to the theory of universal gravitation and endl..^s
force ; \%'}ule learning how to handle gases led to th(> discoverv
of oxygen; and to mo<lern chemistry, and to the notion of the
indestructibility of matter.
--.'.. Again, what simpler, or more absolutely practical, than the
attempt to keep the axle of a wheel from heating when the
207-^08. Observe the character of i 208-260. Trace throughout the
^l"r"""i'"'^ T^V' '"-^llauthor-s course of reasS^ng a^ 1
h.vpla.n clearly ••ask--Kieas,' and develop H. 1-G-181, " And w^-
account for the phraseology. i estate.''
II us LEY.
-3'
uhecl turns round vorv fast? \h^\y ns.'ful for nutcrs and
.q,.-drivers to know souu-think^ about this ; and lunv «(Kh1
u-ore it. if any in^'cnious person would tind out \hv cause ot
such pl.cnouiena, and thence educe a general r. in.dy for .'.-5
tlu-m ' Such an ingenious person was Count Kumtord ; and
1„. ind liis successors have landed us in the the.uy ot the
lursistence, or indestrurtibiiity, of force. And ni tlu- nilinitely
'ninute, as in the inhnitely t,aeat, the seek.rs alter natural
knowled^'e, of the kinds called physical and chmnral. have ...o
rveryw-here found a .lefinite order a.id succession ol .vents
which seem never to be infrin^'ed.
\,h1 how has it fared with -I'hysick- an.l Anatomy?
Have the anatomist, the phvsiolo-ist. or the physician, whose
l.u'siness it has been to devote themselves assiduously to that • -.
enunently practical ami direct end, the allevation ot the
sulterin-s of mankind,~have they been able to cml.ne then-
vision more absolutely to the strull> useh.l ?' 1 tear they are
worst offenders of all. For if the astronomer has set betore
„s the infinite ma-n.tude of space, an.l the practical eternity ..o
nf the .luraiion of the universe; d th.- physical and clunncal
nlulosophers have demonstrated llu- inlmite minuteness ot its
constituent parts, and the practical eternity .>f mattei an.l ot
f,„ce- and if both have alike proclaime.l tli.- universality ot a
delinite and predicable .u.ler an.l succession of events the .4.
workers in biology have not only accepted all thes.. out hav.
ad.le.1 more startling theses of their own. l'..r. as the astrono-
luers discover m the earth no centre of the unu. rse, but an
eccentric speck, so the naturalists liiul man to be n.) centn- ot
the living world, but one- ami.lst endless modilications ot liti' . ,o
and as the astron..iner observes the mark ot practically eml-
less time set upon the arrang. nients .)f th.' -.lar system, so
the student of life linds the records of ancient forms of exist-
ence peopling the world for ages, which, in relation to human
.,V Note apa.n the Rracefultrmvl .40-260. n... vari<M.s dortrines
sit on, and sec (12, III., i). l.ere.n slat.nl ^ l'^''''' ';..'',,„ ,^;
plaiiu'd, and cc.ntraslea witii loruiti
M7-MS havfc-useful? In what ! an.l other .loctrines. Tlio senso in
othe? iorn. 7^ this .inestu.n h.en : which, an.l .he extent to -^-l;.;^
nnt^ Why is "tliey" used? (12., l^'i^*^" ""'^ ^^"'\ ^i'^"^''^';' acceptance,
ills
i !
2J^
j)
i;
.•/ n VAXCIil) RE. I /)£A\
=-55 experience, are infinite. Furthermore, the phvsioloffist find
hfe to he as depen.lent for its manifestation on partirulai
molecular arratif^^ements as any physical or chemical phen'n
menon ; and, wherever he extends his researches, fixed ordt j
and unchan,uinj,' causation reveal themselves, as plainly as in
af'.i the rest of Nature. . . .
Such are a few of the new conceptions implanted in oui
minds by the improvement ot natural knowledj,'e. Men havt
acquire<l the ideas of the practically mtinite extent of the mii
verse and of its practical eternity ; they are familiar with tlu
^^-^ conception that our earth is hut an infinitesimal fragment ot
that part of the universe which can he seen ; and that, never-
theless, its duration is, as compared with our standards o|
tune, infinite. They have further acquired ihc idea that man
is hut one of innumerable forms of life now existing in tlu
^70 globe, and that the present existences are but the last of an
immeasurable series of predecessors. Moreover, every step
they have made in natural knowledge has tended to extend
and rivet in their minds the conception of a definite order
of the universe—which is embodied in what are called bv
«7-. an unhappy metaphor, the laws of Nature— and to narrow
the range and loosen the force of men's belief in spontaneitv
or in changes other than such as arise out of that definite'
order itself.
Whether these ideas are well or ill-founded is not the
"So ciuestion. No one can deny that they exist, and have been
the inevitable outgrowth of the improvement of natural
knowledge. And if so, it cannot be doubted that they are
changing the form of mens most cherished and most im-
portant convictions.
nio-i. Nt)tt; also that it coniains a ^
statement of the many loailiiiL' doc- .c, o a j •/■
trines hd.l hv tlu- most advanced' ''^- 'V^' And'fso. HrinR oik In-
school of \'ictorian scientists a paraphrase the meaniiiK' of "so,'
p-jc vvi,.. ..n^ 1 ^"'^^'rve that the author savs'-chanK-
pho"' ? ^ ""'"^^^' '"'"''^- *"«•" ""' •• ^l-troying," "the fon"''
HLM.iy-
233
, Fxplain what is moant by a '• Lav S..rm,.n '■ S u-w that tl-r ,>'-■
. linysllection is .mu-. Who was our lust •' l.av 1 roarh.r
. state in detail, as pointea out by Huxley, the •' new e.,ncep,„.„.
unplant'nl in onv minds by the iniprovenuMU of natural know .-d^e,
<>,,». th.t Iluxlev is "a ^ood illustration of the modern uniou ol
science and LUermun-'' and point out marked exan.-les o, Ins bterary
'■'t Wha'l eharactoristics of the Victorian a^e do.s the prmdin.^ srlee-
lion illustrate?
("oMi'osnios.
I Make a list of the subjects of the leading para:.raphs i„ .!,.■ srlection
n With the preceding as heads reproduce the •• Lay Sermon, dev. lop-
ing clearly t*'^' author's lin.- of ar-ument.
I .
H
BKOWXIXG.
BiooKAi'iia At,.-KolH<rt HrowninK u.-,s iH.rn ..,i the 7tl, of Mav iSi^ in
ramlHTwdl. one of .Iw sul.„rl>s „f |.,„ul,.n. Ifo xvas educated partly at a
private school and par.ly und.r a t.itor at home, and aiten.led a few of the
_ hrst lectures deliy,.n.d in I.on.lon Crnvrsity. Literature he deliberat.-lv
^ adopted as a pro ession. his father, a u,an of cultivation, allouing him to
choose for mnself. So early .lid the poet l,e,Mn to write, that by the time
he was twelve years old he had composed enough to mak,; a small volunu.
I hese early productions, written under the influence of l,ovish .a.huiration
for Hyron, showe.l evidence of genius, hut failed to hnd a publisher, though
o ks'lf'S'-'n '; r"" ""'• •'' "'^' '^' "' ''"■•'-" »>'• '-'' -"> tie
«orks of Shelley and Keats. and the stu.ly of these authors con,pktelv
revolut,on,.ed h.s taste. I'or some time afterwards his brain was full o'f
u.!oss.U schemes tor poems. He planne.l a whole series, .and even sketched
he details of several ; Uu none of l,i« productions saw the light till Janu-
'5 -ir , thj3, when his hrst poem, Panlin,, was published anonymouslv This
volume, hoss^ver. like many of his subse.pient ones, met with little
,\ JX '^^'"'7'"« >■'•'■'''• ^'^ '"^•^"^■'1 '•" the Continent, making a long
May at S . 1 etersburg. and in .S.^s and iS.^.j visited Italv, where he became
thoroughly acquainted with the country, its people, and its literature
UKOWSISO.
2}^
■ . ,,« rotnrnrd from l.<.n<U>n in tS.,f., .itur Lis m..rria«o will. th. -•
""'r Hi h R^r i^arrctt. Mrs. lirownin« .li...! at Florcn... ,n
,.„ n i.f the (lay.
''"■'■;''■ Is ..■ .X .bits hat .l.-v„tio„ to analysis..! th.. h..,.,a„
..Kiu nf a cona'SM.ni, l m'.. I'at.tchus ( iS ,s) A .Iran...
.„„ winch is ''•-;•-;-'";:,:, ,1,,.';;:: „„. lj,,. ,. ,. ,.„..
„.|,i. h .U...r.-.l ... roach •' I""'' ;'^ '^^ ,\„ ,,i„„H,,,| ,|,,„„;., ,l„- ,..,, ,..
;ut<rsin tin (iraui.i ..i future K/'/c I '< 'i"- "'"' ^'"^^
C//..W..S . A iraKt > ..i,,,rart.T an.l passi..n. containi..n My /-">'
ninUrs her inncnian. c II j ;,.,;,,:• This volmne cnta.ns
f '"t.'':"v; .I;::* •. >^^ a " Ml'.'a,,,,,L.r ,.,h,.>,,,. ., r .i.,,.™.. ■
!:-"'"",nfr';.,r' r;r:r:,r ::::.;'. ;.:":uh :, .a...
l.vi- iindl.ashr Da\ . '\ ' .. r,K..i ■ Tiftv short ix.m.s. /)n./-/«/rv
,lr..nBll.cn Iho tic l,ct»e«n Italy an.l KnBl.m I, . <Mlnfi ■
,1,.- ,vn,pall.ic-s so otien and so stronfily awakcncl l.> ns a.ss > "
TV Lrs,s ot lyric poetry." Since the pnblicat.on ,.( T- R.«« ' «" '.
!
ii!
MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART
(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)
1.0
I.I
1^
156
2.8
3.2
3.6
II 2.5
2.2
■tuu
Hill 1.8
A APPLIED IIVMGE Ir
^K 1653 East Main Street
SVS Rochester. New York 14609 USA
'•as (716) 482 -0300 -Phone
^B ^7 16) 288-5989 -Fax
i'l
236
^ yO J 'ANCED READER.
.'' \%
iif,
i '
Book, l^rowninpt has produced Fifinc at the Fair: two dramas on Greek
subjects; a very fine translation of one of ^Eschvlus' plavs ; Kr,i-C„fton
Night-cap Country: A true story of Brittany; several series of Drawath-
Lyrics ; and one or two poems of minor importance.
70 Critical.— Browning stands at the head of what is called " The I'sv
cholog.cal School of Poetry." With few exceptions, he confines himself
to the workings of the human soul-that is, man's moral and intellectual
natiire-treating them with wonderful care and minuteness. In his longer
works, he uses what is known as the "Dramatic Monologue; " that is in
75 what one speaker says, some point of interest in the history of a soul is
taken up by the poet. The character generally speaks for himself all that
IS spoken, thus developing his nature and showing the hidden springs of
action. In the course of the monologue, evervthing is brought out that
bears on the subject, and the actions of other human beings are indicated bv
80 some detail on the part of the speaker, or by some artifice, such as a sudden
change 111 the tone of the monologue, which shows us that the person ad-
dressed has said or done something. Sometimes, also, the actual speaker
devotes himself, in a similar way, to the analysis of another soul The
psTchological poet reveals, also, in the monologue of each of his characters
85 what by <,ther dramatists is indicated by action or by change of scenery'
\arious opinions have been held as to Browning's abilities. Some put
him on a level with Shakespeare, while others deny his claims to rank as
a great poet. Of late years, however, it has been generally admitted that
though in execution he is uneven, his dramatic talent, and originality and
90 subtlety of thought, entitle him to a high place in the ranks of modern
poets. "Browning's muse is metaphysical, dealing with the spiritual
problems of life and death, immortality and judgment. His thought is
earnest and nervous, and his utterance precise, manly, and vigorous, rather
than smooth and elegant." Neither his subjects nor his style, however
95 recommend him to the general reader. His odd types of character, and
tales of Italian life and repulsive crimes; his taste for dry, metaphysical
topics, and the eccentricities and frequent obscurity of his' style-all com-
bine to render his works unpopular with any but the studious and intel-
lectua . His rhymes, too, are often grotesque and his verse-style lame
zoo ragged, and iinmusical. This, however, is evidently the result of intention '
for some of his minor lyrics are graceful and melodious. In humor and
satire he abounds ; and the reader soon finds that his ecc-ntricities are not
incompatible with nobility of purpose, wide sympathies, and even tender-
ness 01 feeling.
- -f
BROW SI so
237
MY LAST DUCHESS.
I'r.RKAHA.
•ri„. fMllouhiL' dr.-imatic iikmu^Ui^iu- is a ^raphi.; picture-
;;;:S^ii 1^ 'wiE >s ;,u;iu^^ t);^Sssary or .. .... . ..es faun..
That's my last Duchess painted on the %vall,
Lookin^^ as if she were ahve. I ^all
That piece a wonder, now : Fra Pandolf s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Wiirt please you sit and look at her ? 1 said,
>. Fra Fandolf •• by desi^^n : for never read
Stran-ers like you that pictured coimtenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance.
But to mvself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain 1 have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst
How such a glance came there ; so, not the first
10
Literary.— What is meant by a
Dramatic Monolc.Kue ? Describe tlie
versitkaticn of this poem, and scan
11 i-A. What are the attitudes of the
Duke and his visitor when the poem
opens ?
i-A With what feelings does the
Duke regard the picture? Notethe
Sies^^-mylast/- ••That piece
a wonder, now," and •'there she
stands."
s Will't — her? Describe the
Dukes gestures. What would you
infer as to his character from his
anguagesofar? How has the visi-
tor been affected by the picture'
See 11. 12-13- . , _ ,
6 Why has the Duke said "Fra
Pandolf" designedly? Cf. U. n-i^.
What tense is "read"?
Sand 13-34. Observe that through
the poem'tiie Duke lets us see not
only his own nature but also that ot
his late wife.
r.io to myself. Note that the
clause in brackets explains the reason
for using t'.ns phrase, they turned.
Who' What may be interred from
the claus. in brackets as to the Duke's
1 domestic character ? Note also the
frequent personal reference.
II if they durst. W'hat further
light have we on his character?
Why does he treat his present visi-
tor with so much condescension ?
12. such a glance. Describe the
expression of the Duchess's face as
portrayed in the picture.
-Read in conversational pure tone.
countenance. What inflection '
9. Kead^the parenthetic clause in a lower pitch,
turned " on " and seemed "
Elocutionary.
3. Is "now" emphatic? ?•
Read the \
and see
Return to the pitch of
II 111
238
ADVA.XCED READER.
!.r
li
\i I
imuK
-'5
30
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not
Her husband's presence onI\-, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess's cheek : perhaps
Frh Pandolf chanced to say, " Her mantle laps
" Over my lady's wrist too much," or, " Paint
" Must never hope to reproduce the faint
" Half-flush that dies along her throat : " such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart— how shall I say ?— too soon made glad.
Too easily impressed ; she liked whate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 'twas all one ! My favor at her breast.
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
]!roke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace— all and each
Would draw froiu her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thankeH .n,-good ! but thanked
Somehow— I know not how— ar le ranked
IVIy gift of a nine-hundred-years-oid name
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame
13 to turn— thus. When did this
take place? fixplain " thus, Note
form of address—" Sir."
13-14- 'twas not— only. Why is
the Duke not of a jealous disposition ?
19-21. dies along her throat. Ex-
plain, stuff and she thought. Note
the.se touches. What do they indicate
as to the Duke's and the Duchess's
character? What emotion now in-
fluences the former ?
22. how shall I say? What infer-
ence may we draw as to the Duke's
nature from his hesitancy here ? Cf
35-36— "skill— not."
25-2G. Sir, 'twas all one I What
emotion now influences him ? What
would you infer as to his character
from his referring first to " My—
breast"?
27. Note the touch in " some ofii-
cious fool."
31- good ! Express this as a sen-
tence. To what in the Duke's char-
acter does it point ?
32. I know not how. Cf. 1. 22.
33-34- My— gift. What feature
does this bring out ? What features
in the Duchess's character have been
developed in 11. 8 and 13-34?
34-43- 'Who'd— stoop. What char-
acteristics does the Duke here dis-
play ? Explain "set her wits to
yours." Note the touches in " This
sort of trifling," "such an one," and
" choose."
14-15. Connect "spot of joy." 22. (III., S, <-.)
23-24. Group " whate'er she looked on."
25- breast. What inflection ? 29. Group " rode with."
i
BROWM >>'('■
2 XQ
This sort of trifling'? Even had you skill
m speech-xvhich 1 have tiot-to make your w.U
Ouite clear to such an one, and say, - Just tins.
'"or that in you disf,nists me ; hcxv you miss.
.' Or there exceed the mark "'-and li she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor pkunly set
Her wits to yours, f<.rsooth, and make excuse.
-E'en then would be some stoopm- ; and 1 choose
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, m) doubt.
Whene'er I passed her ; but who passed without
Mvu:h the same smile ? This ,rew ; ,ave conunand.
'tn an smiles stopped together. Tlu.ej^u.s^^^^^^^
As if alive. Wiirt.please you rise ? W e U nu c. I
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master's known mundicence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence
Of iiiine for dowry will be disallowed ;
Thou^di his fair daughter's self, as 1 avowed
At starting, is my object. Kay, we 11 go
To<^ether down, sir. Notice Neptune, though.
Taming a seadiorse, thought a rarity.
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me .
35
5'^
55
.V4S What is the Duke's main,
objection to his Duchess's conduct
and how has the poet isrou-ht this .
.,ut prominently ? Has tlie Duke ,
hitherto shown any temper i i
45-46. I gave -together. How
did he dispose of his Duchess ? Com-
ment or this phase of his character.
Observe the facility with which he
changes the subject.
48. then. What change in atti-
tude does this indicate ?
What
49-53. The Count— object.
further lij^ht is thrown on the Dukes
disposition ?
53-54. Nay-sir. Where are the
Dui<e" and his visitor now, and wli.it
has taken place that makes the tor
mer speak thus?
54-56. Notice-me! Where is this
remark made ^ Compare t'-.- l>uke s
feelings as shown here w - ) those
shown in 11. 1-4- Comment on the
bearing of the comparison on your
estimate of his character. W ha
additional touch is there in " thought
a rarity " ?
4a. Pause after " then." Note the emphasis on " some."
45. Group " Much the same."
47. rise. What inflection'
'\-
:? I
240
Ani'AXCEn READER.
W
^.H.^.
HEKVt KIEL.
On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two
Did the Enghsh fight the French,-woe to France '
And the thirty-first of Ma> , lielter-skelter through the bhie
Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue
' WiH ;7\''''rl'"f ''"^' ""'' '^^'^^ '° ^^- ^^^^° °" the Ranee, '
W ith tlie Enghsh fleet in view.
Twas the squadron that escap'd, with the victor in full chase-
I'lrst and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville'
Close on hmi fled, great and small,
'0 Twenty-two good ships in all ;
And they signalled to the place,
" Help the winners of a race !
Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick; or quicker
Here's the English can and will ! "
-5 Then the pilots of the place put out brisk, and leaped on board •
" Why what hope or chance have ships like these to pass ' "
laugh'd they : r —
" Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred
and scored.
Shall the ' Formidable ' here with her twelve and eighty guns
1 hmk to make the nver-mouth by the single narrow way!
.0 1 rust to enter where 't^s^ishfor^craft of twenty tons.
8. Damfreville. What is the gram-
matical relation ?
Literary.— Give an account of
the Battle of La Hogue. Undei
what circumstances did the events
narrated in the text take place ? ■
Describe the metre of the poem, and \
scan 11. 1-14. Comment on' the '
irregularity of the metre and the
rhyme. Note the character of the
vocabulary.
16. Scan,
foot.
Comment on the last
17 scarred and scored. Explain.
18. Account for the character of
the personification.
ELOcuTioNARV.-What is the prevailing quality, pitch, and time '
2. woe to France ! (III. S, c.) 4. pursue. What inflection '
7. Is " squadron " emphatic ? (III., 7, ,.) j.. High pitch, loud force
15. Group •• leaped on board." 16-25. Read so as to personate the pilot
20-22, Pause after " ticklish," " twenty," - full,- •■ Now "
UKOWMSG.
And with flow at full beside ?
Now 'tis slackest ebb of tide.
Reach the mooring ? Rather say,
While rock stands, or water nnis,
Not a ship will leave the bay ! "
241
95
Then was called a council straight ;
Ihief and bitter the debate.
- Here's the English at our heels ; would you ha\ e them take
in tow
All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow.
For a prize to Plymouth Sound ? ^°
Better run the ships aground ! "
(Ended Damfreville his speech.)
" Not a minute more to wait !
Let the captains all and each
Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beacli . 35
France must undergo her fate ! "
" Give the word ! " But no such word
Was ever spoke or heard : , • , n
For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck, anud all
tllGSC
A captain ? a lieutenant ? a mate,— first, second, third ? *°
No such man of mark, and meet
With his betters to compete !
But a simple Breton sailor pressed by TourviUe for the fleet,
A poor coasting-pilot he— Herve Riel, the Croisickese.
And " What mockery or malice have we here," cries Herve Riel, 45
"Are you mad, you Malouins ? Are you cowards, fools, or
rogues ?
28-29. Criticise the rhyme. 1 4f>- Are-rogues ? Whom is he
39-40. Scan. Why is -for" re- j addressmg ?
peated ? '
26-27. Narrative pure tone.
28. Change the tone to personate Damfreville.
32 How should parenthetic clauses be read ?
39. Which words aie emphatic ? 40. captain. What inflection ?
45-54. High pitch, load force.
Q
!.'
I
242
ADVANCED READER.
I
Talk to nie of rocks and shoals ? mo, who took the soundings,
till
On my fingers every hank, every shallow, every swell,
'Twixt the offing here and Gri;ve, where the river diseni-
hogues ?
50 Are you bought by English gold ? Is it love the lying's for ?
Morn and eve, night and day.
Have I })iloted your bay.
Entered free, and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor.
" Burn the fleet, and ruin France ? That were worse than
fifty Hogues !
55 Sirs, they know I speak the truth ! Sirs, believe me, there's
a way !
Only let me lead the line.
Have the biggest ship to steer.
Get this ' Formidable ' clear.
Make the others follow mine,
60 And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well,
Right to Solidor, past Greve,
And there lay them safe and sound ;
And if one ship misbehave, —
Keel so much as grate the ground, —
65 Why, Fve nothing but my life ; here's my head ! " cries Herve
Kiel.
" Not a minute more to wait,
Steer us in, then, small and great !
Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron ! " cried its
chief.
Captain, give the sailor place !
7° He is admiral in brief.
i !
48. Parse ■' bank." What gram- 1 50. Is it love— for ? Explain,
matical figures are frequent through- j
out the poem ? | 5S. clear. Of what ?
55-65- Note the difference between the respectful tone in which Kiel
addresses the captains, and the indignant one in which he spoke to the
pilots.
66. What force and pitch are here required ?
il
BROWN/ AG.
243
le soundincrs.
cries Herve
! " cried its
Still the nortli wind, by God's ii\i\cc.
See the noble fellow's fiice,
As the bif; ship, with :i bound,
Cleiirs the entry, like a hound,
Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide seas pro- 75
found !
See, safe throuj^di shoal and rock,
Mow they follow in a ilock !
Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that {grates tiie ground,
Not a spar that comes to grief!
The peril, see, is past !
All are harbored to the last !
And, just as Herve Kiel hollas, "Anchor ! " sure as fate,
Up the English come, — too late !
85
90
So the storm subsides to calm ;
They see the green trees wave
On the heights o'erlooking Greve ;
Hearts that bled are stanched with balm.
" Just our rapture to enhance,
Let the English rake the bay.
Gnash their teeth, and glare askance
As they cannonade away !
"Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Kance ! "
How hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance !
Out burst all with one accord,
" This is paradise for hell ! '^'
Let France, let France's king.
Thank the man that did the thing ! "
71. Still. Parse. | 87-88. balm. Explain. Parse " to
75. Scan. Give the force of j 'enhance."
'were." 1 S8-92. Who say this' 'Neath—
84. So— calm. What " storm " ? 1 Ranee. Explain.
72-82. Animated narrative. 82. Anchor. Loud force, high pitch.
83. Pause after " Up."
84. Pause after "storm." " Subsides to calm," gentle force.
93. hope— despair. (III., 7, 6.) (III., S, (/.)
94-97. Pause after " Out," and " Thank."
H
li .
ili:; i
i !
244
ADVANCED READER.
What a shout, and all one word,
" Hcrvc Rid ! "
100 As he stepped in front once more ;
Not a symptom of surprise
In the frank blue Breton eyes,
Just the same man as before.
Then said Damfreville, " My friend,
«o5 I must speak out at the end,
Though I find the speaking hard :
Praise is deeper than tiie lips ;
You have saved the king his ships ;
You must name your own reward.
"° Faith, our sun was near eclipse !
Demand whate'er j-ou will,
France remains your debtor still.
Ask to heart's content, and have! or my name's not Damfre-
ville."
Then a beam of fun outbroke
"5 On the bearded mouth that sp.)ke,
As the honest heart laughed through
Those frank eyes of Breton blue ;—
" Since I needs must say my say;
Since on board the duty's done.
And from Malo Roads to Croisic'point what is it but a run ?
Smce tis ask and have, I may ;
Since the others go ashore,—
Come ! A good whole holiday !
Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle
Aurore ! "
That he asked, and that he got,— nothing more.
remains. Remark on the
lao
125
106-109. Though — hard. Why 112
so? Explain "Praise-lips." Parse I tense.'
" the king. '
I ,121. may. What is the gramma-
I tical relation ?
99- Loud shouting tone.
timf an JhS pS'^ " '" '"'"'^^'' ^'^^'""^ ^°"^- ^^^ pure quality, fast
125. Is " that " emphatic in both cases ?
rCTnaaa fe Bai H<i i.-«-i ii > » i &;; ;
liROWMXa
245
130
Natne and deed alike are lost !
Not a pillar nor a post
In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it beiell ;
Not a head in white and black
( )n a sinf^de lishinf; smack.
In memory of the man but for whom had f,'one to wrack
All that France saved from the li^dil v.iienre Fn^dand
bore the bell.
Cio to Paris ; rank on rank,
Search the heroes llmif,' pell-mell
On the Louvre, face and tlank ; '35
You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervc Kiel.
So, for better and for worse,
Merve Kiel, accept my verse !
In my verse, Herve Kiel, do thou once more
Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife, the Belle ,40
Aurore 1
129-130. Explain the reference.
132. bore the bell.
Allusion ?
Wliat is thi;
I. Clar. i'"" " Herve Kiel." Show that " My Last Duchess " is a Drama-
tic Mom'uj'ae or Lyric.
2 What poem in this volume by a Canadian author is oi the same
description as "My Last Duchess"? Who in it corresponds to the
Duke ? Who to f/.e Duchess ? • . r v.
, Show that "My Last Duchess" exemplifies the peculiarities of the
Psychological School of Poets. See Critical estimate, 11. 70-85.
4 What influences of the period produced the Psychological School ?
5 Refer to Critical estimate, 11. 8G-104, and show to what extent the
preceding selections illustrate Browning's characteristics.
Composition.
L Sketch the character of the Duke as deve' iped by himself, r,nd of
the Duchess as developed by her husband.
IL Describe in detail the dramatic action of " My Last Duchess."
t
Ill
L l! j > 1
CARLYLE.
B.OGRAPHICAL.-Tho:nas Carlyle was born on the 4th of December
1795, at Ecclefechan, m Dumfriesshire, Seotland. His early life w^s
uneventful, and after he became "a writer of books '■ the principal epo h
of h.s career were the dates of his works. Having attended fh e I
5 scnool and subsequently obtained some instruction in the higher brand e
a the burgh school of Annan, he entered the University of Edinburgh
when about fourteen years of age, with a view to studying for the Chu c '
This des.gn, however, he soon abandoned. Young Carhde was an ear.'est
icso ardent that he permanently injured his health. On completin.^ his
course he taught school for four years, first at Annan and thc^^ It Ki
ca ay. returning ,n i8z8 to Edinburgh with no definite prospects, bm h
.strong leanmg towards literature. Here he spent about fhree ye" rs n
d.hgent and varied study, making himself meanwhile complete ma ter of
'5 he German language, and entering on his literary career by contr^ut'ons
to Brewster's Iuln,,nr,/. EucycIotuuUa. In 18 J he became tu o to \
aiHiculties. After 1823 h.s publications became numerous, including at
first, besides original works, translations from the Germa; For main
.0 years, however, he had a hard struggle with unsympathising reviewerHnl
au unappreciative public. In x8.6 he married jine Bail ie W Lt an
CARI.Vl.I-'
247
,S28 w^nt to live at Crruncnputtorh, in Dumfrirsshir.. :i small prnp-rty
;'"''u'"^"S ^1. •" il^ ro,n anvon.HUdy to visit hin,,' lu- l.,.
'''''''' ''^'Z^ZrlMn^^c steadily into fame. In a,l,li,ion to
'""'""Tis he 2c in l-ondonthL courses o':^^
.. .ramn booths, he ^^ \^^^^^^^^^^ ,,, Hisori^inality, an.l qu;.u,. .uu\
;uul private papers for this punooso.
li.hed in a separate form in ih2> .'^^f'""^^'; jTonortion (hnthr's
(.S.4): To this .as i-^-'^^ -;. ";'^;",';.^:. ,;;!': v<-r^ --'^ ^^
U-,//,./m Mcislcr, also a translation (18.4 l^^J^'.f^^.,,;,,, became
nf this work was the formation of C-arlyle s hterarv stsu,
:;r:.;l intensely (German. Sp.!,..,. '.(^^-:';;^-;:;;;; ■;;;,;;: "i:
.„ 7..,„, Paul RickU. and Gcrn.an LUcraiurc (^^^j) .^ I -^ !■; ^ ,,,.
the/-,//«/>«.^/. AVr/<■«^ to which, clnnn«hisresilence.^^
nnule other contribntions. Sartor /^'•^"''"'; <f •^^-^,', ;^,^; .^^-''^j^^. .^ otesoue,
his subsecpient prodnctions, a mixture of ^»- ;;) ; -^^^ ! ^ti.^r jected
appeared in successive instalments m /■ rascr s ;^/^f :'-;';,;" ,;, .^ _ u,c
1, several publishers. S../.r R^sartus, or 1 he 1 a.lor Uoc >
,n,e of an old Scotch song-professes to be ^,-;-; .f^,^^ l^;" ,' :f,;.„ ,, 3s
on dress, and the hero, Herr Teufelsdroech ( ^ - > ;J^^ ^^J^^ ^^ ^„„„.
tl,e University of Weissnichtwo (" one knows not where ), is made to en
c;:t"r various opinions, speculatio^^ and nward ^"-^ ^ ^j^
himself. The French F-volnt'on, 0. "'^'"'l ^^^^J^'.^ ^, k^.^^u-
greatest work, is a gorgeous panoramic view o ^hc h'-^^n '^ ,^
tion-a kind of "prose epic." giving a wonderfully vivid p ct ire ';| ^^
period. Heroes, Hero-Worship, and the Hennc '« "'•^'7:^^' ° ^ j^/ ^^
Ld only one published, of a series of lectures ddm.n ■ ly
time Cr-rlyle's position in the literary world was hrmh ^^^"J^- ' , j
:;::ybody wrc^e and talked Carlyle; and the -l";;-^^ , " ^ .3
.Inmost unnaralleled in the annals of literature '^ ^''^'^^).J ^^,,j
collection of his contributions to Reviews. ^7'-^;^;» \' ,^," , , 'n the
Present (1843). two political tracts. ^^^^ "''Z:\^]^^Z^ speeches,
actual condition of his countrymen. OUver Cronn.dl s Litt. F
'f ii
?/
ill
i
248
ADVANCED READER.
Wi!
U'lth Elucidations (1845) : A triumphant vindication of the Protector's char
70 acter. LatUr-Dny Pawph Ids {1H50] : In this volume, suggested by the con
vuls.ons of 1848. •• The Censor of the Age " seems to be the worshipper of
mere brute force and the advocate of harsh coercive measures in deal
ing with mankind. It is, besides, the fiercest, most furious, and least
praiseworthy of all his productions-a pure jeremiad of wrath against
75 many existing English institutions. Lif, of John Sterlhig (1S51) ■ As a
literary work this Biography is a finished production. The History of
tn-dcnck th-Gra,t {1H5S.18G0): A work in six volumes, dealing with the
man ■• who managed uot to be a liar and charlatan as his century was "
Shootn,f,r Niagara, ami After? {1HG7) : A short article published in Macmil
83 la,t s Magazine, and predicting disastrous results from the Reform Act
Another, published in 1870, expressed his joy at the defeat of France in
he trnnco-Prussian war. Since Carlyle's death, Mr. Froude, his literary
legatee, has published Reminiscences, hy Thomas Carlyle, intended by the
author as a monument to the memory of his wife, "a singularly-gifted
85 woman who. had she so pleased, might have made a name for herself
and who, for his sake, had voluntarily sacrificed ambition and fortune ''
Ihe volume contains, also, sketches of Edward Irving jeffrev Iamb
Wordsworth, Coleridge, and others. ^' ^ ^ ' ^^'
CRiTicAL.-In command of language, Carlyle ranks next to our greatest
90 writers. Not sat.shed, indeed, with our vocabulary, he frequentlylnvents
new words and strange compounds. In his earlier essays, and in the life
o Schiller, his language is rugged but musical. His later works, however
abound in barbarisms, solecisms, violent ellipses, and various kinds of
verbal eccentricities. The most marked quality of his style is its vehe-
95 ment energy. Figures of speech of the most vigorous character he uses in
lavish profusion and the effectiveness of his diction is largely due to their
originality and boldness. Hissense of the ludicrous sho." itself in almos
every page. Genial and sympathetic at first, it gradually overpowered
the other elements of his nature, and in his later works his cynicTsm
'"n."i''"'V?'^"'" u^ ''^"^ themselves in a torrent of contemptuous nick-
names. But even these productions are not without redeeming touches of
kindliness. His pathos is all the more striking from the ruggedness of it
surroundings. I-or the niceties of the writer's art he had a profound con!
tempt; consequently we often find the dictates of taste deliberately vio-
"' ince o "' V :"T ^'^" ''"'■'^■''^ '''''' ^^^'"■^^^^ ^^^ °f '"Vial import-
ance. Oyer the higher qualities of style his mastership is supreme His
powers of description are of the highest order; his narratives are word
pictures ; and in the delineation of character he appears at his best
"What effect, if any, Carlyle's style has had on our language, may be a
»o question. One thing only is certain. Carlyle must be left afone w th his
own style. When taken up by imitators it becomes simply unendurable
The special characteristic of Carlyle's genius is what Jeffrey called his
•■ dreadful earnestness." He is always enthusiastically in'earnest. Accord
.ng to his philosophy, the chief end of life is the performance of Duty and
' our first great duty is Work. -^ Do the duty which lies nearest thee, which
CARLYLE.
249
K .Intv •• Another is Ohodicncc-obo.lience, hcnvcver
thou knovvest to be a dut> . ^nothe ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^^^^ ^^,^^,
to ^vhat is just and chvme^ "\ , 't of beinK Heal, and not a Shan,.
Sincerity as opposed to ^ham-the t> c t . t ^ ,,H-r,e,icaUy,
Whatever a man "-l-^^'^-;;;;^;^;^:^!,' ■'^^ediesare-K nn.rationan .0
andconscientionsby. I'^n-^l'tical tronb es n^ „ „edenonnces
V:ducation. In England he says^ ' t Tl c--"-'- "^ ^"^^'^ ^'^'^""^
Uings, aristocracies, and modern oht.ca ^^^. ^^^^.^.^^^, ^^^^^^^
,,ent. in his est.mat.on. -"-^V.^ /J^ „,,„\\f ,Hlity in subordinate
,,„, and meaning "the ^^ ^J;^^^,,,, ^n he does not show ho.- .,5
positions. l^!;;"!-^^:-^tr^:wilhasbe,ueathed to us none,
to meet the difficu ■ > m the xvay. oriL'inality of his style and s>^
.vstem of philosop. . . but so ^^^^^l^^; ^^^^o^ ^^^^^ -'^^ '^^
ardent the earnestness o h,s P" P" ^' ^ ^,"\i,,,,,Ht or the character of
more powerfully affected the color of men s tin u ,3,
the literature of his time. ^
FRIEDERICH THEN AND FKIEDEKICH NOW.
From the Proem to " Frederick the Great."
orrr^ tliprp used to be seen saiaitering
ABOUT fourscore y^^-g^ ^T.\^ '-^e in the afternoon,
Literary. -Give a brief account
of the career of Frederick the Great.
What is meant by the " Proem ?
I When was this book written ?
Parse "used," and account for its
position.
V6. or~region. What is the ob-
jection to the introduction o such
parenthetic clauses? I^e^.^^^ ^\he
sentence so as to avoid the dithcult> .
Explain "amphibious." Note the
striking Metaphor.
1 1- 12. a name — instance. Ex-
plain the Allusion.
I ,-26 Comment on the prevailing
Grammatical figure. Observe that
it is characteristic of the author.
Rewrite the sentence in the ordinary
literary form. What points in t red-
edck's^ character are here brought
out ? Why does Carlyle approve of
him ?
J
I ^1
250
ADVANCED READER.
•(if
Mi ill
ii' I
r 'i
'\
l^-i ^!
^1 \
1 J
smipl,c.ty of vesture : no crown but an old military cocl<,.,l
■s .a -..enerally old. or tran.plcd and kneaded nto'absoh,
f r" ' T"' "° ''"'^'"^ 1^"' °n<= like Agamem^oS
walk„,K.st>ck cnt from the woods, which serves also .^.l
rKhng ,„ck (with which he hits the l.orse " be vee ult ears ''
-ay authors); and for royal robes a mere soldier blue en,
.. w,,h red facnss, eoa, hkely to be ol.l, and sure to 1 ave a Z
< eal ol Spanrsh snuff on the breast of it ; rest of the appare
hm nnobtrusue in color or cut, end.n. in high over-We
.m tary boots, which ,nay be brushed (and, I ho^e ke^ t soft
p:.';';oti;idd:,n°tV:;;;;ro'::i:'^^^ *^^-"- -"■ "-■ -t.
itnt^'iniriT '"' °^ '-'*'"'''= physiognomy, any nrore than of
nposmg stature or costume : close-shut mouth with thin lip,
pronnnent jaws and nose, receding brow, by no n cans nf
3«0ly,npian height; head, however, Ts of l^g form, u ,a1
snperlat.ve gray eyes in it. Not what is called a 1^1 fu
man nor yet, by all appearance, what ,s called a happy
On the contr..ry, the face bears evidence of many sorrow as
they are ter.ned, of much hard labor done in this world and
3=see,ns to anticipate nothing but more still con i,;^ 7,'^^
SeZ;T "^ m"°""" °' '^■""' J°^ "-- were but :
expcct.ng any worth mention; great unconscious, and some
couscous, pr,.le, well ten.pered with a cheery mockery of
humor, are written on that old face, which carries i^sch.n
." well forward ,n spite of the slight stoop about tre neck
snuffy nose rather flung .nto the air, under its old co ked hat'
23-24 Comment on the paren-
thetic clause.
25. Day & Martin. See (12 IV
19) Observe that this figure is
characteristic of the author. "Car-
yle's sentences are generally ex-
tremely simple in construction— con-
sisting, for the most part, of two or
three co-ordinate statements, or of a
short direct statement, eked out bv
explanatory clauses, either in apposi-
tion or in the nominative absolute
construction," Apply this criticism
throughout. j
30. however. Give the full force.
31-32. superlative. Would the ad-
verb express the author's meaning ?
Comment on the form of " what is
called a happy."
33-34- as— termed. Why is this
clause inserted ?
36. were. Why this form of the
verb ?
3S-3.9. well tempered - humor.
hxplain.
CARLYLE.
251
zz^i::^^ -rri,::."^:. ^irr-cc.:;::; .
Mirabeau, " winch, a. <!- «;1' '« "' ''^^^tsco^^nU pouuu
«m with seduct.on ov w,th ''^' "'• ;"\;\„.clla.t .s the snn ;
„ay. -•^''»'^'• ' \\^,,t,„""e',,„es.io,, of then, vigilance an.l
,,larmg size; »h>- '" ' ^', J^,^ „„ ,,eplh. which is an ex- 3.
,,cnetratn,g sense, rapuhtj resi „ I lambent
-'"" r:;,";;::^;';;,, ■: f r ^me'Uiu , r sea ..( h.h.
outer radiance sprin^u.^ creaks to you, is ot
tones are .n it, from th.it " " ,. , ,,„,).
sociahty, light-flowinK banter I'f' i;"'^,2,„,,,i„„ ,vor.l of
,„, .„ aefmite -r.l o^ con,n..i n, il-l^^^ ;^^,, ,^,,^^,
rebuke ami reprobation, "^°« ,„ „,itty nr.
abie - ;:lTf a''';relt"c^;. ■ cl'tinne-s the ..octor «
^^Lse "hohTr iriiir rtgret tirat he.;^^,;- ;"-!:; -:!
, 1 ,..nro His observations are alvva>s IntiN, ^Ll)
deal more, ms oi repartee in greater
just, and few men possess the talent oi i
perfection."' 1^- speakings and ('s
'-'' Ti flS^Te "s u;:th:r .onds, leaving much in- -
vanished ^^^^'^ f /^> ^^'^ ,^^„^^^, „f ,,,,,„ which, as my readers
quiry about h m m ti e mi satisfied. As to
and I may feel too well, is >et b> '^^ " ,^^^,^i,„a to 70
5i'!,:f S i;,5rx; r.";:; 1... ,«, -
T« fhiTTM^t^ CG. Explain " World of 1 .me.
43. lion, or lynx. Is this a Mtia
P*'"''' -J-* man Explain 1 60-77 As to his speech -mankind.
30-53, r5,pidity-man. Expiai | J;^ 77;^^s^^^^ ^j^^^^^^^^^^ ^.^^^
f"l'y- . , ,>,. 'words anil his admiratitjn for ileeils.
.64. What ch-^^X^cT ' S^ CruLl estimate, p. .4^, H. 1.3-
of the author is here display ta . 1 '^
65-91. Point out the Carlylese in ^ >
this paragraph.
' 1'
252
ADVANCED READER.
IN
i i
t il
forgotten by mankind. Indeed ryl^'sr.eh fn^tttH^^
present hour as all the newspapers Ire obJi.e, to 1 t.L
note of, sometimes to an unpleasant deL^reT F r! "^
so account this man the " creator of the P. ^'^''^'' ^^^nely
«;■::■•. :;:,;;s : ■. ;;t: «•;.- =" .i;s
.3 created, standing on its fee there I^H 1?' '" ^"^ ''"''^
O" the „np„,selt had ^:r "r h ,,' ^7 h^^s^ l^t T'
ings upon PnJsia Cln ° "nto"?;"'' "'°" ""P^^^^-
9= present, or future \re tr ! = T ' '" "' P"""' °'-
tion to ihe no,::';;e''nX;';:h z:r"'''"'"' '- p^°p-
Tins was a man of infinite mark fn l.,c- * ^ *
The world in faet h'»d J . /" °"«^'"^' ■■"'" °f «<^n-
principaht,esa;r;rrs™;;,!i-irir^^^^^^^^^^
85 Standing: oa its feet there.
phors"'' ^^^'■^'^ter of the Meta^
fhf.^'^\l ^?-theni. Comment on
theS^f"'''""^J^°^ Prussia in
tlie light of recent historical events
;rli or •' u"J'^'"J. ' ^"'^ ^'^'^ " -t^^itish
editor. What in Carlyle's philo-
sophy accounts for thia feeling ^
92-xoo. Note that in his histories
Carlyle generally observes the laws
^nrl-fl P^^Sraph, Explain the his-
torical references. Comment on the
author s criticism of life.
99-100. a dead-lift spasm. Ob-
serve the strength of the Metaphor,
I f.
^^^-
CARLYLE.
253
he
led them all such a dance as
had astonished mankind and .05
methods, but marcn oui . ^^^
f,g„t,„g ,mp.en,e„., -^^J-^^^^ V n^r h faMy maniged
ruinous circumstances, as tins i^nio
'"fo; he left the world all bankrupt, we may say; fallen into
Jltflbysses of destruction; ^-.iil - a pay,i-g co d
,ou, and ™th footing cai^ble to c„ryh.a^^^^ ^.^^^^
situr^rtJ^-iii-fX-r^^^^^^
106-122. Observe the Carlylean
philosophy. Explain " your ongmal
man " "whose movements xvere
nolar" "The Samson Agomstes
yiTiv.. 19). and "epic and tragic
natm°" What is the author's
op nlon of Samuel Johnson? What
is the " Philistine mill "? Parse The
rather." 1. 116. and "much more
1 118 Account for the number ot
"this'"l 115. Explain the Allusions
in the' last sentence of this paragraph.
Nnte. that "nay," 1.108, and "quite,
i 120 are Cariylean mannerisms.
123. Give the force of " left."
123-140. Observe the strength of
this paragraph. Develop ully the
Metaphors. Note the tendency to
Hyperbole.
126-129. When— horizon. Point
, out the historical references.
132-135. Thelast-thunder. Show
the aptness of the mythological .\llu-
sions Explain fully the metaphon-
i eal language, in the latter clause.
1
W^f
1 <"'
1
•
1
HI!
254
ADVANCED READER.
135
first of the modern Titans — before Pelion leapt on Ossa ; and
tlie foul earth taking fire at last, its vile mephitic element >
went up in volcanic thunder. This also is one of the pecu
liarities of Friedrich, that he is hitherto the Last of the Kings,
that he ushers in the French Revolution, and closes one epoch
of world history. Finishing ofif for ever the trade of king,
think many, who have grown profoundly dark as to kingship
140 and him.
The French Revolution may be said to have, for about
half a century, quite submerged Friedrich, abolished him from
the memories of men : and now, on coming to light again, he
is found defaced under strange mud-incrustations, and the
145 eyes of mankind look at him from a singularly changed, what
we must call oblique and perverse point of vision. This is
one of the difficulties in dealing with his history, especially if
you should happen to believe both in the French Revolution
and in him ; that is to say, both that real kingship is eternally
15J indispensable, and also that the destruction of sham kingship
(a frightful process) is occasionally so.
On the breaking out of that formidable explosion, and sui-
cide of his century, Friedrich sank into comparative obscurity ;
eclipsed amid the ruins of that universal earthquake, the very
155 dust of which darkened all the air, and made of day a disas-
trous midnight. Black midnight, broi n only by the blaze of
conflagrations, wherein, to our terrified imaginations, were
seen, not men, French and others, but ghastly portents, stalk-
ing wrathful, and shapes of avenging gods. It must be owned
i6j the figure of Napoleon was titanic, especially to the genera-
tion that looked on him, and that waited shuddering to be
devoured by him. In general, in that French Revolution, all
was on a huge scale ; if not greater than anything in human
136. What is meant by calling
Friedrich "the Last of the Kings" ?
Distinguish between "epoch" and
"era." Show that the French Re-
volution was the beginning of a new
epoch.
138-140. Finishing. Parse. "Why
" grown " ? What are Carlyle's ideas
as to Kingship ?
144. strange mud-incrustations.
Note the Carlylean Metaphor. What
has suggested it ?
146-151. This — so. Note that in
his histories Carlyle aims at perspi-
cuity. How is it attained here ?
Note the contempt for " shams."
152-150. Observe again the change
of Metaphor and the tendency to
Hyperbole.
CARLYLE.
255
...rP It least more grandiose. Ml was recordiHl in
,,per.ence at least m , ^ _ ^^^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^
:f r;^;:nnr:u.e . .h sucU a breaath of sal., ex^nt
f whiskerage, strength of .Mnd-p.pe, and comma, dot en
h n er to an amazing degree ! Terrific Drawcans. figures .0
Tnormous whiskerage, unUmhec. con.mand of gunpo..k
Vi It sufficient ferocity, and even a certam heroism,
:;:;;" ^nt .hi ■co„,,l;rod ...„ who,,,, to .„c .hin,..«
'; lory and frightened, excited theatre at large, ,tsec„,ed .,s
f her^ had been no generals or sovereigns before ; as , .n
ir ed oh Gustavus, Cromw.ll, Willian, the Con<inero, and
\ exande the Great were not worth speaknng of hence mth
AlHh" however, in half a century is considerably al er«l.
•rife Dntweansir equipments gettn,g gradua ly torn off, the
, Utral size is seen better ; translated front the b„ let,,, s ^le -So
;to d at of fact and history, .niracles, even to the slnl ng .
galle y, are not so utiraculous. It begins to be apparent that
U re ived great men before the era of buUefns and Aga.ne.n-
on Austerhtz and Wagram shot away ,norc gunpowder-
" npowde , probably, in the proportion of ten to one, or a ..s
hundred to one ; but neither of then was a tenth-par such a
Ittng to your enemy as that of Kosbach, brought about by
sfrategie art, human ingenuity and ,ntrepidity. and ..,e loss of
1,8 nL. Leuthen, too, the battle of Leuthen (though so
few English readers ever heard of it), may very well hold up .,»
heal beside any victory gained by Napoleon or anotl er
For the odds were not far from three to one; the sold e s
were of not far from equal quality ; and only the general was
consummately superior, and the defeat a destruction. Napo-
.e. alve.herorceor.,r^|dUj^^^^
U,;XS. tin Jage. "SS phrase which he considers apt.
1. ev,;iiin<, crallerv" and " Drawcansir ^^3 t^e era of bulletins and Aga-
Is "era" pro-
•yhiUmg gallery"' and '' Drawcansir ._. __
figures." Note the author s derisive memnon. Explain.
cynicism. perly used ?
172. not without. This construe- ^.^^^ ^j^^ f^rcc of " your."
tion occurs so frequently in Carlyle s i ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^yig have such man-
writings as to constitute a "^an- j ^^^.^^^ ,
nerism.
179. The Drawcansir— off. Ex-
193. Give the force of " only."
256
ADVANCED READER.
I I
'93leon did, indeed, by immense expenditure of men and (run
powder overrun Europe for a time: hut Napoleon never bv
husbandu.^ and wisely expending his men and gunpowder
defended a httle Prussia against all Europe, year after ye r'
for seven years long, till Europe had enough, and gave up tie
-enterprise as one it could not manage. So soon as the Draw
cansir equipments are well torn off, and the shilling gallery
go to silence, it will be found that there were great kngs
^eraclty and human courage, and insight, not upon Drawcan-
-5 sir rhodomontade, grandiose Dick-Turpinism, revolutionary
madness, and unlimited expenditure of men a^d gunpowder'
'^ou may paint with a very big brush, and yet not be a
great painter,' says a satirical friend of mine. This is becom
ing more and more apparent, as the dust-whirlwind and hu^re
o uproar of the last generation gradually dies away again ^
21
THE TAKING OF THE BASTILLE.
From " The French Revolution."
t^'eZZ7o?T;,i;'!;L^^^^^^ ^he castle of Paris, built be-
fortified for th s p'ipose dudnl the"s?vt^'^/." P"f "' ^"^ ''^' '° '''"^^^^Y
that it was almost imSnarTh.nH^ ^""^ seventeenth centurk^
of family quarrels cSTntriRues or 'S^^^^^^^ *he victims
lodged there in virtue of zX "/ .' / P"''^''^^' e": religious persecution,
seldom entered k • lustice " as Sirhi' " ^"V. ^"^^^^ '^^ ^^^'^^ "'"ders
that speaks still ouS to the £rt thf ^'' "^f^ '° *^"'"' ^"^ ^ ^°*<=«
The people of the citv and thlf.nhf' ^\''°'''^ "^ humanity and mercy.
ing iS it^shadow never faUed to cuSr ■''^.vr '?J ?."^^'"^ ^"^ ^«P^«-
broke out in July 1789 he PaS.^rn^l u ^^^^" l^^ ^'^""^^ Revolution
ing to dissolvi the National AleSv fi^. tlf ""L'^^', '""^^^'^ ^^^^ ^°'"-
thei4th it attacked. On the Ten^b'/o7 .^^^'^t only ^^/^^^"^e- "On
isted, but none remained in the mormn^/wf.h?V'°^^^ ^°",^' ^*'" ^''-
on Paris, and all were illuminedTithTh; .Z ^i'!^' °"^ '^^^ ^^^"^d
upon every mind, and the slme vo ce thr S /h? °^^°P^- ^ ^'^^' ^'""^^
and thou Shalt take the Bast^fei° tI.I through every heart: 'Go!
preposterous. And yet eve^A be^LvUT S SinTwaTdot'^:
To describe this Siege of the Bastille (thought to be one of
the most nnportant in iHstory)_pe^ transcends the talent
of^heTrigTn.-^r^Test a^'d^'^S^^^ifc^^ "VP-
the French Revolution. Obsen^ i ^ 6 ic .nH^^'^''^^'^- ^'^' ^^- ^'
throughout this selection the fre! ^' ' J' ^""^ ^°' 37')
quent use of Vision, strong Meta- ^^ 50^?*"°^' important in history.
CARLYLE.
257
of mortals. Could one hut, after inftuite readiup;, Ret to un-
1 rTand so much as the plan of the buiUhn, ! Hut there ,s
open Esplanade, at the end of the Rue Samt Anto.n ; .
ere such Fore-courts, arched Gateway (where Lotus lour-
V no V fights) ; then new draw-bnd.es, dormant bruises
mpart-bastions, and the ,rim Eight Towers; a labyruUluc
; s ngh-frowning there, of all ages from twenty years to
^rhluKlred and twenty; beleaguered m tl- - - ^-- -°
,s we said, by mere chaos come agam ! Ordnance ot all
ij:^; throL of all capacU.es; ,.en of all pUu.s^ every
,„an his own engineer; seldom sjnce the war ^^ ^^y^^ ^
Cranes was there seen so anomalous a thmg. H'llt-pay Lie
•s lon^ for a suit of regimentals ; no one wouU heed Inm n ..
CO bred clothes: half-pay Huhn is harangun.g Gardes Tran^
a ses in the Place de Greve. Frantic Patriots pick up he
"a'e-shots; bear them, still hot (or seemingly so to he
Ho el-de-ViUe -.-Paris, you perceive, is to be burnt! i ies-
fe les is " pale to the very lips;" for the roar of the multitude .
"rows deep. Paris wholly has got to the acme of Us renzy
tvhirled all ways, by panic madness. At every ^ -^ arri
cade, there whirls simmering, a minor whirlpool, strengthen
ing he barricade, since God knows what is coming ; and
all minor whirlpools play distractedly into that grand Fire-,,
Maelstrom which is lashing round the Bastille.
And so it lashes and it roars. Cholat, the wine merchant
has become an improptu cannoneer bee Georget, of the
marine service, fresh from Brest, ply the King of biam s can-
3-4. Could — building I See (12,
IV., 15,) and 11. 78-79.
1 1 -1 3 Ordnance— own engineer.
What effect on style have these fre-
quent Ellipses? (13, II., I.)
11-14. What connection has this
sentence with w' i follows?
13-14. seldon. -ling. Point 01: ;
the anomaly.
15-16. no one— clothes. Whose
opinion is this? Observe the dra-
matic tendency of the author.
19. you perceive. What is the
effect on style of such expressions?
Quote similar instances.
20. "pale— lips." Why are these
words in inverted commas?
22-26. Note the strong Carlylean
Metaphors.
28 See. Note throughout the
abundant use of Vision. " Carlyles
narrations are eminently pictonaL
At every step in the succession ot
events, we are stopped to look at some
posture of the actors or their sur-
roundmgs." Develop this cnticiam
by means of the succeeding context.
258
ADVANCED READER.
ill!
nil
f '!, !
;j l.'i.
30 non. Singular (if we were not used to the like) : Georm l.v
last night, taking his ease at his inn ; the King of Siam's can'
non also lay, knowing nothing of /,/;;,, for a hundred years"
Yet now, at the right n.stant, they have got together, an'.i
discourse eloquent nuis.c, For, hearing what was to;ar 1
35 Georget sprang from the TJrest diligence, and ran. Gard.:
Frangaises also will he here, with real artillery : were not t ,.
walls soth.ck! Upwards from the Esplanade, horlonta
from all neighboring roofs and winclows,\lashes one ~
deluge of musketry,-without effect. The Invalides lie fl
^° firmg comparatively at their ease from behind stone- hanh "
through port-holes, show the tip of a nose. We fall, shot a 1
make no nnpression ! ^^, and
Let conflagration rage ; of whatsoever is combustible '
Guard-rooms are burnt, Invalides' mess-rooms. A distracte.i
- " Peruke-maker with two fiery torches " is for burning '
saltpetres of the Arsenal ;"-had not a woman run screLing •
had no a Patriot, with some tincture of Natural Philosoi2'
instantly struck the wmd out of him (butt of musket on r^t of
stomach) overturned barrels, and stayed the devouring ele
30 mens. A young, beautiful lady, seized escaping in these out'
rbu'ntt^Det^ '''"f' ^°.'^ ^^ Launa^s 'daughter Xl
as e. but again a Patriot, it is brave Aubin Bonnem^re the
old soldier, dashes in. and rescues her. Straw is burnt ; th
55 cartdoads of it. hauled thither, go up in white smoke: JnZ
o the choking of Patriotism itself; so that Elic had, wk
inged brows, to drag back one cart, and R^ole, the gigam
haberdasher, another. Smoke as of Tophet ; c;nfusio 'as of
Isabel ; noise as of the Crack of Doom I
pi. taking — inn. Account for
this phrase.
33-34. Observe this characteristic
mode of expression.
36-37- were— thick I Whose utter-
ance IS this ? Complete the Ellipsis.
41- We fall. Account for this
form of expression. What is the
44-46. A distracted— screaming.
condi-
Criticise the structure of th'
tional sentence.
47 with— Natural Philosophy.
Comment on this phrase.
56. Patriotism. Observe Car-
lyles f.^quent personification of
abstract expressions for the sake of
comprehensive strength.
58-59. Smoke— Doom I A mark-
edly characteristic sentence. Point
out Its peculiarities.
cAP.i.yi^n
259
Wood flows; the aliment of new nui.lness. 1 lu' wonn.led »
,re curried into houses of the Uue Cer.saie ; the ,!>,.,« U-ve
■ ei last mandate not to y.eld .,11 the accursed stronghold
I And yet, alas, how fall? The walls are so th k !
vputations, three i„ nun,l,er, arrive from "-. »"";'; = ;'.; ,
\|, ,e Kauchet (who was of one) can say, w.lli what , lnK,.,l r„
M , erlnunan courage of hen.volence. These wave t uar .nvn-
Im the arched Gateway ; and stand, rolhuK thcr drun .
f to no purpose. In such Crack of Doon,. Ue L.U'.nay ea •
hearLm, dare not l.elieve them: they return w>th
,i ed rage, the whew of lead still singing n, then- ears. ,.,
\ V at to do ? The Firemen are here, squirting w,th thcr .re-
pump, on the Invalides' cannon, to we. the touch -holes;
Z unfortunately cannot squirt so high; hu, produce only
c lou.ls of spray. Individuals of classical knowledge propose
X " . Sauterre, the sonorous brewer of the suburb ban.t :>
An one advises rather that, the place be fired, by a " nnxture
ofThosphorus and o,l of turpentine spoute,! up through lore-
tag thumps;" O Spinola Sauterre, hast thou the nnxtu.e
.'"'Every man his own engineer! And s.dl the fire-
deluge abates not: even women are firntg, and f""-'";/""
least one woman (with her sweetheart), and one Turk,
Gardes Fran^aises have come : real cannon real ca.njoneers.
Usher Maillard is busy; half-pay Elic, ha!f-pay Huhn rage
in the midst of thousands. . . ,
How the great Bastille clock ticks (inau.lible) m .ts turret =.
court there, at its ease, hour after hour ; as if nothmg special
or it or the world, were passmg - It to led one when 1 e
firing began ; and it is now pointing towards five, and stdl the
ft nl s fkes'not. Far down, in thetr vaults, the seven pr.s-
oners hear muffled din, as of earthquakes; the.r turnkeys,,
answer vaguely.
63. And yet-thick ! Cf. 11. 35-
37-
70. the whew— ears. See (12,
IV.. 4-)
ji, et seq. Note throughout the
derisive touches.
78-79. O Spinola— ready? Ex-
clamation is used by Carlyle to
express every emotion. (12, IV., iS.)
What is intended here? Why is
"ready" in italics?
85-91. How-vaguely. Note the
heit'htened effect produced by con-
trast. What -r reason IS there for
the introductt 1 of this paragraph ?
26o
ADVANCED READER.
95
^^oetothee. De Launay. with thy poor hundred Invalidos
Brcd.e .s d.stant. a„d h.s ears are heavy; Bosenval hear bm'
can send no help. One poor troop of Hussars has crept recon
no.tn.,^, cautiously along the guais. as far as tae P , i Ne^ "
We are come to join you," said the Captain ; for the crow i
seems shoreless. A large-headed, dwarfish indivijuaj
smoke-bleared aspect, shambles forward, opening his1,lue
hps. for there is sense m him; and croaks: .'Alight the^
and g.ve up your arms ! - The Hussar-Captain .s too 'hap J
o be escorted to the Barriers, an.l dismissed on parole \\Z
the squat md.vidual was ? Men answer, it L M Mar
author ol the excellent pacific Avis an P..// /Great ru'
O l>ou ren^arkai le Dogleech, is this thy day of emergence
and new-bnth; and yet this same day confe four year"!^"
But let the curtains of the Future hang.
\yhat shall De Launay do ? One thing only De Launnu
could have done : what he said he would do' Fanctlum
sit Ung, from the first, with lighted taper, within arm's leng
■ of the powder magazine; motionless, like old Roman Senato
or Bronze Lamp-holder; coldly apprising Thurio and 1,
men, by a shght motion of his eye, what his resolution wa
Harmless he sat there, while unharmed; but the KinJ^s For "
ess, meanwhde, could, might, would, or should, in nc'wise be
surrendered, sav.. to the King's Me^.s, . • ' '^'^^'^^
life is worthless, so it be lost with .o.or "but thTnIc, y^ bTa'^r
kv;r;d! 't °" r'' '' '^ ^'^'^" ^ ^^^^^^ Bastiij sp nt
skyward ! In such statuesque, taper-holding attitude one
fancies De Launay might have left Thuriot, th^e red Clerks of
•the Basoche, Cure' of Saint Stephen, and all the tag-rag and
be] nail of the world to work their will. ^ ^
97- shoreless. Note the Carlvle-
an Metaphor. Expand.
w^^?^ u^ large-headed - croaks.
What characteristic power of the
author is here displayed .'
I0I-I02. Who-was? Account for
tnis lof m of sentence.
I ^04-106. O thou-hang. Note the
I metaphorical nickname See also
i reference? -^ ^'P'"'" '^' ^*^*°"'=^1
no like old Roman Senator
Explain the Allusion. '^«or.
th.' n^ "uld-should. Account tor
the use of these words.
;ount lor
CARLYLE.
261
Xnd yet, withal, he could not d.. it. Hast thou consule ed
how each man's heart is so tre.nulously respons.ve t.. he
^rts of all men; hast thou not.d how onn.potent .s the
rv sold of many men ? How the.r shr.ck of uu. »^natu>n -.
;aLs he strong soul ; their howl of cotUmnely w.thers . >th
;th oangs ? The Ritter Gluck confessed that the K'rou.ui-
e o the noblest passage, in one of h.s noblest operas. w..s
voice of the Populace he had heanl at Vienna. cryn,,;.o
loir Kaiser: •'Bread! Bread!" Gr-at . the combuunl vmce ,>
In r the utterance of their instincts, which are truer tha^.
h r tou,rl,ts: it is the greatest a man enc ounters an.ong the
: „ds and shadows which make up th.s World of Inne.
He who can resist that has his footmg ^omewhere bcyou.l
Time De Launay could not do .t. Distracted, he hov. vs ..
between two; hopes in the middle of despau ; surrenders uoi
Fort.^Is ; declares that he will blow it up, seizes torcnes
to blow it up, and does not blow it up. nhappy old De
LaunaT it is he death-agony of thy BastilU and thee! Jad.
j;"ormg, and Jailor, all three, such as they :uay have been. ■.
"por'fom hours now has the World-Bedian. roared; call it
the World-Chun^ra, blowing fire. The poo. Invahdes have
svmk under their battlements, or rise only witi reversed mus-
k ts : they have made a white flag of napkins .- b-tmg the m3
cZnaciefor seeming to beat, for one can hear - u.^- -
very Swiss at the Portcullis look weary of firing: , dishcartenccl
Ifdie fire-deluge : a porthole at the drawbndg ■ is opened as
;V 1 that woU speak. See Huissier MailUrd, the ^nfiy
man! On his plank, swinging over the abyss of that stone
ditch; plank resting on parapet, balanced "V --ght of
Patri;ts-he hovers perilous: such a Dove towards such an
1..-135. And yet-Time. . Note ■ lustrate "He who-Time,' U. 134.
the introduction of philosophical re-
flections, and the return to the nar-
rative in " De Launay— It," 1. i35.
The narrative of "The French
Revolution is perpetually inter-
rupted by the authors moralizings
and preachings." Explain and il-
^35 , • .
142-143. Note again the expressive
Metaphors.
145. Parse "go."
1 52 1 53. such-Ark I Bring out
the force of the Allusion.
i!
i
.J
I t -
i !
t 1
i I
it '
1
262
'!!=
) '
i i.
ADVANCED READER.
Ark ! Deftly thou shifty Usher ; one man already fell • an.l
hes smashed, far down ther., against the masonry ! Us
sl^f7v*TI , ^^^^^f/^°^^'^ ^ P^P^r through his porthole; the
shifty Usher snatches it, and returns. Terms of surrender
Pardon nnmumty to all! Are they accepted? '« On th e
word o an officer," answers half-pay Hulm,-or half-p y
Lhc, for men do not agree on it ; " they are ! " Sinks the
drawbrKlge,-Usher Madlard boltn.g it when down rus
- the hvmg deluge ; the Bastille is fallen ! ^> Victor^ ! Th"
Bastille IS taken ! " ^
153 thou shifty Usher. See (12,
_1V., 37.) " file apostrophizing habit
IS perhaps the greatest notability of
Carlyle's mannerism. It provides
one outlet among others for his deep-
seated dramatic tendency. It suits
his active turn of mind and favorite
mode of the enjoyment of power "
(13. II., I.)
159. half-pay. Note Carlyle's
Z.^T\ ^°' r«P«.^ting an epithet
that has taken his fancy.
160-163. Sinks-taken I Notethe
vividness of this description.
Composition.
jj Rewrite, in good literary form. " Friedrich Then and Friedrich Now/
iliii
i
GEORGE ELIOT.
B,oc..™,c,.-M..,v An- E^n. bene. .„o«2^ he. »» ..f-». •>.
hved alone with Jf f^^'^^J; ^^^^^^ ^ ^^J ,,3 i„ close study, aided in her
^he was associated with her friend, Dr. Chapman, m the ^ °-^.P^°^^^
Westminster Revieu, and took up her --f--^ ^°;;\ ^^J^^^^^lv^^^^^^ .
thecentreof a distinguished literary circle In 1854 she ^^«"^^« '
L spent a year at Weimar and Berlin, in company wth Ge^^f^"^";/^ .^
[.ewes, the biographer and philosophical essayist. Here she saw m
u.
'i !
264
ADVANCED READER.
il
iTelfoflrr n°'"'''/"' J' " P'°''"^ ^'^' ^^°"^ '""'^ '™« 'he conscious
nesb of her powers first dawned upon her. On her return to EnglanS T'
began her career as a novelist, soon rising to the fir.f nl.. ' ^''
imaginative prose writers of th; period A rn^aining^rs^oTT' 'v^
.0 were spent quietly and happily.^n earnest and ^tant study a'dt
hab.tual .ntercourse with the foremost minds of the time In Mav rSSo
stitute this volume had aoDeared in tSc^ in An I sketci.es uhich con-
Ma,..ine, where from T^^l^iZ^Sr:^^^^^
30 (1859); This powerful novel of real ife rl^l ?' ^''"'" ^"^'
Ehot s assured position as a writer of fiction ^n. at , C-eorge
3S Raveloe (1861) : Somewhat less amhVH Tv." t ^'"'"''' ^'" ^^'"^"^ '/
the author's fiLst sketches irlx^^^^^ ^' "- °^
life in the fifteenth centurv • re^^.H u^ ' ^'^^""''^^^ "°vel of Italian
of her productions • It show.H H . l""""^ ^' '^^ '"^^^ ^'^^ly finished
ing fro^ study rnd medittt ;1hta te': ^sTruf to" n t^ '°'"V' ''''-
40 times, and a society as life-like and fakhJnif If '^ ^""^ '° '^""'^
had previously defeated from n/^ k''"'^' ^' '^^'"^ ^'^'^^ ^^e
/='.//.//.//, //, /?t^^arri866 1T°" "^^^"-^'^^i^" -"d experience,"
this novel exhibits her powers in h . '■ ^^ "°' '^^"- g^-^atest work.
DanU-l Derouda (1876) A Zr '"/^^"^^^""ty of their development,
some powerfu and anne^^^^ ^"^''^'^ -'^'^^y- ^°ntaining
topics. George Eliot contrihntpH .1 ' ^^^^^^ °" various
/?../.«,, and produ eda Jew noel T- k''? ^'P''' '° ^'^ WesUninster
artistic beauties, the hierLfnrr;,^ sf w"A"' " "''^^^ ''""^^^ ^"^
drama; and T>. U.jl/yZ!,:!:! ^^^^^^^^^^^ ^ ~^c
^^ V^^:^^r^^:,^^:^^ -^^-tion of speculative
rich in subtle and wise reZtion. 17^ characters. Her works are
reader that they constitute tZrH'^^T''" introduced as asides to the
exceptions, the marj she d^rtes fr^EnJl^r' '^^ '''''■ '^'^'^ ^-
^o W, type, and her characters^^^S^i-^^S^- ^ ^J t^
iS'^Sprf s.
GEORGE ELIOT.
265
ordinary condition, not under the stress of unusual events. No novehst
has ye shown so much power of painting external life wUh so -ondorfu an
"ii into the workings of the human soul. Her .magn.at.on. mvent.on
".d creative power are of the highest order. She never ^epoats he.elf
Ever> work'^she has produced evidences some new development o her 65
genius In her earlier novels the tone of her reflections .s often sat.rca
but n the later ones this feature disappears, while all exemphfy k^ .pue
umor and deep pathos. Her gifts of descr.pUon are "--P -d. She
makes frequent use of illustration, sometimes, however. displa>int, a toucn
of mascuine coarseness in her metaphors, and a fondness for phi osoph 70
terms and illustrations that have laid her open to hostile criticism. lUv
anguage is terse and precise, yet simple and fluent, and amply proves he
fiddity and thoroughness of her work. Though ;:er verse does not en itlc
Ser t?be described'as a great poet, the poetical side of her ^emj^s has le
richness of fancy and delicacy of finish to her romances. TJ.;™oraUon 75
of her writings is of the highest character, occasionally, ^o^e cr marrc
b the sad-toned scepticism of some of her speculations^ ^:^\Z
woman-certainly no English woman-has ever ^^ ^';.'ff ^^'^^^^^^^ '\7,
than George Eliot, and her works may be justly regarded as markiUK
culmination of the imaginative literature of the age.
'
i
"THE KEY TO HUMAN HAPPINESS."
From " The Mill on the Floss," Book IV.
^t;'r.y he had '--".y owned, a|cl -he servant of an, nJor^« horn _hc
daughter, the heroine of the novel.
There is something sustaining in the very agitation that
accompanies the first shocks of trouble, just as an acute
pain is often a stimulus, and produces an excitement which
is transient strength. It is in the slow, changed life that
Literary.— I -10. What is the per-
centage of words of classical origin
in this paragraph ? Account for its
being so high here and throughout
the selection. See also (12. IV., 23.)
and (12, v., 2.) What characterisUc
of the author does the paragraph
exemplify ? Note that the rest of the
selection is the development of the
general statements made here.
4-5. It— follows. See (12, IV.,
4.) Point out in this passage other
illustrations of this Figure. How
; is it. secured?
266 -
ADVANCED READER.
'5
•JS
3°
35
3 follows--,„ the time when sorrow has become stale, an<l
has no lon^^er an emotive intensity that counteracts its pai,
-in tlie tmie wlien day follows day in dull unexpectani
sameness and tnal is a dreary routine ;-it is then tha
despair threatens ; at is then that the peremptory hunger o
the soul IS felt, and eye and ear are strained after som,!
unlearned secret of our existence, which shall give to en
durance the nature of satisfaction.
This time of utmost need was come to Maggie, with her
short space o thirteen years. To the usual prfcodty of
Wee' :;f-' ''1 early experience of struggle, of 'conflic
oct^^een the inward impulse and outward fact, which is the
lot of every imaginative and passionate nature ; and the
years since she hammered the nails into her wooden Fetish
among the worm-eaten shelves of the attic had been filled
with so eager a life in the triple world of Reality, Books
and Waking Dreams, that Maggie was strangely old for 1^
years in everything except in her entire want of that pru
dence and self-command which were the qualities that made
Tom man y in the midst of his intellectual boyishness And
now her lot was begmning to have a still, L monotony
which threw her more than ever on her inward self ^'
Maggie s sense ci loneliness and utter privation of jo'y had
deepened with the brightness of advancing spring. AH the
favorite out-door nooks about home, which seemed to have
done their part with her parents in nurturing and cherishing'
her, were now mixed up with the home-sadness, and ga"he "d
no smile from the sunshine. Every affection, every dehght
the poor child had had. was like an aching nerve to ifer
There was no music for her any more-no piano, no har:
monized voices, no delicious stringed instruments, with the r
6. emotive intensity. How already
expressed ? ^
fi •'^;'?, '■'0"flict-nature. Explain
this fully. Note that here and in 11
22-23, we nave the author's charac-
terization of her heroine. Describe
Maggie s '• inward self," and observe
that in the rest of this selection its
workings are developed. Observe
also that here and in 11. 335-339 a
contrast is made between Maggie
and her brother.
. 27-72. What was Maggie's first
impulse in her " time of utmost
need ? What moral may be pointed
out here ? ^
U ' !
' I!
GEORGE ELIOT.
267
p,ssionate cries of imprisoned spirits sending a strange
; Even at school she had often wished for hooks u. h
,'„ h^Ihent: everything she learned ''-- -»- ) ^ '^^
nids of long threads that snappe.l imme.luUoly. Ami now,
ihou tire indirect charnr of school-e,nuh,t,on. U' -'n^"l"«
mere bran ; so were the hard, dry questions on Christian «
doc. ne: there was no ilavor in them^no strength, borne-
?r^es Maggie thought she could have '-" <=- -^ -
absorbing fancies: if she could have had all bcott s novels
a 1 al Syron-s poenrs, then, perhaps, she might l'--> fou'i
ppiness'enough to dull her sensibility to her ao^" ^ - Y '
hf, And yet . , . . they were hardly what she uaiile,!.
She could make dream-worlds of her own ; but no dreani-
world°vould satisfy her now. She wanted -'- -f-- ;°
of this hard, real life ; the unhappylookmg atlier, se.itec
a the dtdl breakfast-table; the childish, bewildered mother , =s
the httle sordid tasks that filled the hours, or the more op-
p es ive emptiness of weary joyless leisure ; the nee-d of soiiie
ferder. demonstrative love; the cruel sense that lom duln
mind what she thought or felt, and that they were no longer
™a;'ellows together; the privation of all P"^--' j ^^ '°
that had come to lu-r more than to others. She wanted
some kev that would enable her to understant , and, in
understanding, endure the heavy weight 'J-', - /^ '™, °
her young heart. If she had lieen taught " real 1^;> "' -
Kl wisdom, such as great men knew ' f 'I'"'*" ^
should have held the secrets of life ; if she had only books
ha she might learn for herself what wise men knew !
c.6-^7. passionate — frame. Ac-
count for this mode of presenting
the subject.
41-43. Even— immediately.
plain the Metaphor.
44, Why "indirect charm"?
Ex-
is
' dream-worlds "
52-53. How
emphasized ?
54-O1. hard -others. This was
the "outward fact." Seel. 16.
61. Why had it come " to her more
than toothers"? Cf. 1. 17-
61-64. She-heart. Cf. 11. Q-12.
m
i i I i |.
\\m
, !,i i ,
I' in ih ■ I
t !.'1' 'Ml
li' :i
f!^ ! i
11 1^
268
ADVANCED READER.
Saints and martyrs had never interested Maggie so miui,
as sages and poets. She knew little of saints and martyr
7° and had gathered, as a general result of her teaching that'
they were a temporary provision against the spread of
Catholicism, and had all died at Smithfield.
In one of these meditations, it occurred to her that she h.<l
forgotten Tom's school-books, which had been sent home i,
"his trunk But she found the stock unaccountably shrunk
down to the few old ones which had been well thumbed-the
Latin Dictionary and Grammar, a Delectus, a torn Eutropiu^
the well-vvorn Virgil, Aldrich's Logic, and the exasperatin.:
Eudid. Still, Latin, Euclid, and Logic would surely be ^
«o considerable step in masculine wisdom-in that knowledge
which made men contented, and even glad to live. Not that
the yearning for effectual wisdom was quite unmixed : a cer
tain mirage would now and then rise on the desert of the
future, in which she seemed to see herself honored for her
85 surprising attainments. And so the poor child, with her
atli. h"T '1 ""r. "^""r' °f ^^^^-fl-^tery, began to nibble
at this hick-nnded fruit of the tree of knowledge, filling her
vacant hours with Latin, geometry, and the forms of the
syllogism, and feeling a gleam of triumph now and then that
.0 her understanding v.as quite equal to these peculiarly mascu-
Ir 1, /r* u °' I ^'"^ °^ '^"° '^' ^^"t °" resolutely
enough, though with an occasional sinking of heart, as if sh^
had set out toward the Promised Land alone, and found it a
thirsty, trackless, uncertain journey. In the severity of her
.5 early resoution, she would take Aldrich out into the fieldc
and hen 00k off her book toward the sky, where the lark
was twinkling, or to the reeds and bushes by the river from
which the water-fowl rustled forth on its anxious Iwkwad
73-75- What suggested to her mind
lom s ;.chool-books ? Cf. 11. 79-81.
81-85 Not — attainments. Note
the author's knowledge of humanity.
82. effectual wisdom. What sen-
tence in the preceding paragraph
explains this phrase ? ^ ^ v
*i,°'i,„'^^^^"""*^^<^ f"""'*- Explain
the Metaphor.
93- . Promised Land. Explain the
Allusion.
94-100. Note how admirably the
author gives variety to her composi-
*\°"' and brings out the uselessness
ot Maggie's " thirsty, trackless, un-
certain journey." What bearing has
Maggie's experience on the thmrv of
education .''
97- ■was twinkling. Explain.
wtSfe ^SiSSStt-..-.
GEORGE ELIOT.
269
tli.ht. With a startled sense that the relation between Aldnch
nd his living world was extremely remote for her. Ihe .00
; scouragement deepened as the days went on, and the eager
cart gained faster and faster on the patient nund Some-
ow vvhen she sat at the wuidow with her book her eyes
ould fix themselves blankly on the out-door sunshine, then
Thev would fill with tears, and sometimes, if her mother was .05
ot in the room, the studies would all end in sobbing. She
rebelled against her lot, she fainted under its loneliness, and
fits even of anger and hatred toward her father and mother
'!l o were so unlike what she would have them to be-toward
Tom who checked her, and met her thought or feeling always .o
hvTome thwarting difference-would flow out over affections
aL conscience like a lava-stream, and frighten her with the
ense that it was not difficult for her to become a demon
Then her brain would be busy with wild romances of flight
from home in search of something less sordid and dreary : she „3
would go to some great man-Walter Scott, perhaps-and
eU hinfhow wretched and how clever she was and he would
su ely do something for her. But, in the middle of her vision,
her father would perhaps enter the room for the evening and,
surprised that she still sat without noticing him, would say, x.o
complainingly, " Come, am I to fetch my ^^^PP"^ -^-^^^^^
The voice pierced through Maggie like a sword : there uas
another sadness besides her own, and she had been thinking
of turning her back on it and forsaking it.
This afternoon, the sight of Bob's cheerful freckled face .s
had given her discontent a new direction. She thought it
was part of the hardship of her life that there was laid upon
her the burden of larger wants than others seemed to feel--
that she had to endure this wide, hopeless yearning for that
something, whatever it was, that was greatest and best on this .30
ea"h. She wished she could have been Uke Bob, with his
easily satisfied ignorance, or like Tom, who had something to
103-106. her eyes— -sobbing. Ac-
count for Maggie's state of feeling.
H8-121. Seel. 16.
122-124. What quality does Mag-
gie now display ?
125-126. the sight — direction.
What was the "new direction ?
I Why did the sight of Bob produce
! this effect ?
270
ADVANCED READER.
f-^ !
ii:
do on which he could fix his mind with a steady purpose, and
disregard everything else. Poor child! as she leaned Jier
135 head against the window-frame, with her hands clasped
tighter and tighter, and her foot heating the ground, she was
as lonely in her trouble as if she had been the only girl in the
civilized world of that day who had come out of her school-
life with a soul untrained for inevitable struggles — with no
140 other part of her inherited share in the hard-won treasures of
thought, which generations of painful toil have laid up for the
race of men, than shreds and patches of feeble literature and
false history— with much futile information about Saxon and
other kings of doubtful example, but unhappily quite without
.45 that knowledge of the irreversible laws within and without
her, which, governing the habits, becomes morality, and,
developing the feelings of submission and dependence, be-
comes religion— as lonely in her trouble as if every other girl
besides herself had been cherished and watched over by elder
ISO minds, not forgetful of their own early time, when need was
keen and impulse strong.
At last Maggie's eyes glanced down on the books that lay
on the window-shelf, and she half forsook her reverie to turn
over listlessly the leaves of the "Portrait Gallery;" but she
.55 soon pushed this aside to examine the little row of books
tied together with string: "Beauties of the Spectator,"
" Rasselas," " Economy of Human Life," " Gregory's Let-
ters,"— she knew the sort of matter that was inside all these ;
the " Christian Year"— that seemed to be a hymn-book, and
160 she laid it down again ; but Thomas ^ Kempis ?— the name
had come across her in her reading, and she felt the satisfac-
tion, which every one knows, of getting some ideas to attach
to a name that strays solitary in the memory. She took up
the little, old, clumsy book with some curiojity : it had the
.65 corners turned down in many places, and some hand, now
forever quiet, had made at certain passages stiong pen-and-
ink marks, long since browned by time. Maggie turned from
135-151- See Critical estimate, 11. | statements. Parse "as lonely," and
^^'^-- i account for its repetition,
crion^'ft.i*?® '"eversible - reli- 149. besides herself. Criticise this
gion. Explain and criticise these phrase. Why not " older " ?
GEORGE ELIOT.
271
170
>7S
l,.^f to leaf, and read where the quiet hand pointed
.Know that the love of thyself doth hurt thee more than any-
U,mf, in the world H thou seekcst this or that, and
ouM'st be here or there to enjoy thy own will and pleasure,
hou Shalt never be quiet nor free from care ; for m every-
L,r somewhat will be wantn.g. and in every place there wHl
some that will cross thee Both above and belos
which way soever thou dost turn thee, everywhere thou shalt
Ld the Cross; and everywhere of necessity thou must have-
patience, if thou wilt have inward peace, and enjoy an eye,-
' . Tf thou desire to mount unto tins
lastniR crown Ai inou ucsne. '
heitrht, thou must set out courageously, and lay lie axe to
the root, that thou mayst pluck up and destroy that hulden .80
inordinate inclination to thyself, and imto all private and
earthly good. On this sin, that a man inordinately ove h
himself, almost all dependeth, whatsoever is thoroughly to
be overcome; which evil being once overcome and subdued,
there will presently ensue great peace and tranquillity. .... .85
It is but little thou sufferest in comparison of them that have
suffered so much, were so strongly tempted,- so grievously .
afflicted, so many ways tried and exercised Thou oughtest
therefore to call to mind the more heavy sufferings of others
that thou mayst the easier bear thy little adversities. And if .90
they seem not Uttle unto thee, beware lest thy impatience be
the cause thereof Blessed are those ears that receive
the whispers of the divine voice, and listen not to the whisper-
ings of the world. Blessed are those ears which hearken not
unto the voice which soundeth outwardly, but unto the truth .,5
which teacheth inwardly "
A strange thrill of awe passed through Maggie while she
read, as if she had been wakened in the night by a strain ot
solemn music, telling of beings whose souls had been astir
while hers was in stupor. She went on from one brown .00
mark to another, where the quiet hand seemed to point,
hardly conscious that she was reading— seeming rather to
listen while a low voice said : —
168 auiet hand. Note the poetic I 186-190. It is-adversitieS.Criti-
toich. ^See iTlV.. i.) ^ I cise the language of these sentences.
272
ADVANCED READER.
" W hy dost thou here gaze about, since this is not the place
-5 of thy rest ? In heaven ought to be thy dvvelhng. and all
earthly things are to be looked on as tiiey forward thy journev
thither. All things pass away, and thou together with them
Beware thou cleave not unto them, lest thou be entanL^lcd
''^"^'.I^':^'^'' Jf a '"^n should ^,v^ ah his substance
..o yet It IS as nothing. And if he should do great penances, yet'
they are but little. And if he should attain lo all knowledge
he IS yet far off. And if he should be of great virtue, a.i,l
very fervent devotion, yet is there much wanting ; to wit
one thing, which is most necessary for him. What is that ?
«5 That having left all, he leave himself, and go wholly out of
himself, and retain nothing of self-love I have often
said unto thee, and now again J ^.y the same, forsake thyself
resign thyself, and thou shalt enjoy much inward peace. .
Then shall all vain imaginations, evil perturbations, and
«o superfluous cares fly away ; then shall immoderate fear leave
thee, and inordinate love shall die."
Maggie drew a long breath and pushed her heavy hair back
as If to see a sudden vision more clearly. Here, then, was a
secret of life that would enable her to renounce all other
«5 secrets-here was a sublime height to be reached without the
help of outward things-here was insight, and strength, and
conquest to be won by means entirely within her own soul
where a supreme Teacher was waiting to be heard. It'
flashed hrough her like the suddenly apprehended solution
^30 of a problem, that all the miseries of her young life had come
from fixing her heart on her own pleasure, as if that were the
central necessity of the universe ; and for the first fme she
saw the possibility of shifting the position from which she
looked at the gratification of her own desires, of taking her
"35 stand out of herself, and looking at her own life as an insig-
nificant part of a divinely-guided whole. She read on and on
in the old book, devoming eagerly the dialogues with the
invisible Teacher, the pattern of sorrow, the source of all
strength; returning to it after she had been callea away,
"° AV H '" n 'l^ u" '^'' '"" '^""* ^°^" behind the willowl
With all the hurry of an imagination that could never rest
in the present, she sat in the deepening twilight forming
GEORGE ELIOT.
'■7i
„Uns of self-hum.liation an.l .mUuv cUvotrdnrss, a..l. n> llu-
Ir of first discovery. ronu.u:.ation schmucI to In." tl.. .n-
n^e into that satisfaction which she had so Ion, lu. ..
: -n, in vain. Sh. had not pc-rccivcd- how c..u 1 s c
, she had hved Umf^cr ?-thc inmost truth .-t hr od
k-s outpourin.^s, that renunciation rcma.ns sorrow. tu,u,d.
"Lw borne wilhn,ly, Ma^.ic was stil panUn, tnr happ -
iu^rand was in ecstasy tecanse she luul found the key to U. .o
^Xw nothin. of doctrines and systenjs.^.>i -y^-.-^r
,,.,,tism; but th.s voice out o the far-oft ^ ulo e A,o, • s
/,,, direct comnunncation ol a human soul s behc-l and cxpc
ri.nce and came to Ma^^'H- as an un.iuestioned Hussa^e.
" " pp<- tlKU is the reason wl>y the su.all "1' -1-— - ^^
l,ook. ior wh.ch you need pay only sixpence ;'t a -^.s lb
,vc,rks miracles to this day, turnu,^^ bUter wale,s - to s^^
s wlnle expensive serurons and treat>ses. newly ,smu 1
I.:, all thn..s as they were before. It was -mt- down
, ,„„a that waited for the hearts prompt n,' . >t s the
,j:;;;cle of a sohtary hulden an.n.sh, stru...e trus u^
t,i„,nph. not written on velvet cushions to tcu h endu ancc
hose who are treadin, wnth bleedn.,' ieet on the stone
H so It remams to all time a lasting record o lunnan needs
inld human consolations; the vorce of ^^^^^f^J^^^^
alio felt, and suffered, and renounced, m the cloister, p( .haps
tuth serge gown and tonsured head, with much chantu.g and
bu fasts, tnd with a fashion of speech different from .>u,s,
::^u!;:ier'the same silent far-off heavens, and -th the .une
passionate desires, the same stnvmgs, the same faihucs, the -70
''Tn wriUng'the history of unfashionable families, one is api
.51-252. She knew -quietism. ^ a64-7X. fee (:., IV., xo and .0,)
Why is this statement made? ; and (13- HI- 1)
.,„-.7i Note the beauty of the! 272^ ^■^. seq. Observe he bat.re.
la,;gua;l See also (13. H-. ^■) \ ^''^ ^"*-'^"> """"''''T' \ -.nh
4Ahat.^ What) Note the sub- i 272-349. Shc^^U^att^^^^^^^
sequent explanation. ' ^nd ■ Variet> " (12, Hi.) See also
2s8. In what quality are these , 'j-,^j^.^.„j ..^umata. 11. s6 and 57. and
"expensive sermons and tiealiacs ; j „j
represented as being defective ? Cf . 7° and , .
11. 262-263. I
II
•\; uiiir
274
,ini'.h\'CED READER.
to fall into a tone of emphasis which is very far from hein/
the tone of f,'oo(l society, where principles ami beliefs arc ii,,i
a75 only of an extrcnicly moderate kind, hut are always presiiii.
posed, no subjects beinj^: eli^Mble l)ut such as can be touched
with a li^dit and j,aaceful irony. But then, f,'ood society lias
its claret and its velvet carpets, its dinner-enf,Mf,aMnents six
weeks deep, its opera and its faery ball-rooms ; rides off its
a8o ennui on thoroui^di-bred horses, lounj,'es at the club, has ti.
keep clear of crinoline vortices, f^a-ts its science done 1)\
Faraday, and its relif,Mon by the superior clerj^y, who are to
be met in the best houses ; how should it have time or neid
for belief and emphasis ? But f,'ood society, floated on gossamer
285 winf,^s of lij^dit irony, is of very expensive production, requirin-
nothinff less than a wide and arduous national life condensed
in unfraj^rant deafening factories, cramping itself in mines,
sweating at furnaces, grinding, hammering, weaving under
more or less oppression of carbonic acid, or else spread over
290 sheep-walks, and scattered in lonely houses and huts on the
clayey or chalky corndands, where the rainy days look dreary.
This wide national life is based entirely on emphasis — \.\\c
emphasis of want, which urges it into all the activities neces-
sary for the maintenance of good society and light irony ; it
395 spends its heavy years often in a chill, uncarpeted fashion,
amid family disconl unsoftened by long corridors. Under
such circumstances, there ire many among its myriads of
souls who have absolutely needed an emphatic belief; life in
this unpleasurable shape demanding some solution, even to
300 unspeculative minds, just as you inquire into the stuffing of
your couch when anything galls you there, whereas eider-
down and perfect French springs excite no question. Some
have an emphatic belief in alcohol, and seek their ckstasis or
outside standing-ground in gin ; but the rest require some-
273. What is meant here by "a 1 292. Explain the sense in which
tone of emphasis" ? | " emphasis " is here used.
275-276. always presupposed. Ex- 300-302. just— tjuestion. Bring
P'^'"- out the force of this illustration.
. J^/'ui' ' .^"^^-.^'•^"y- Illust'^ate o„t3ide standing-ground.
the author s meaning. e^^i^j^ ^j^^^j^ ^^j^^^ was^ Maggie's
277. Explain the force of " But ckstasis.
then."
GEORGE EI.IOT.
275
from heiti;,'
efs are tint
ys prL'siii>.
!)e touch((l
society has
cments six
ides off its
lib, has to
' (lone by
who are to
no or need
1 gossanui
I, requiring
condensed
in mines,
ing undci
Dread over
uts on thr
)ok (h"ear\ .
basis — the
ties neces-
t irony ; it
d fashion,
1. Under
nyriads of
ief ; bfe in
n, even to
stuffing of
eas eider-
)n. Some
ckstasis or
lire some-
se in which
1.
on. Bring
;tration.
ing-ground.
as Maggie's
tiling that good society calls " enthusiasm. ■' something that p-s
will present motives in an entire absence of high pri/.es, some-
thing that will give patience and feed human love when the
hiiil)s ache with weariness, and human looks are hard upon
lis --something, dearly, that lies outsiile personal desin s, that
iiu-hides resignation for ourselves and active love lor what is uo
not ourselves. Now and then, that sort of enthusiasm hn.ls a
tar-echoing voice that comes from an experience springing out
ot the deepest need. And it was by being brought within the
long lingering vibratiof.s of such a voice that Maggie, with
lui"girl"s face and unnoted sorrows, found an eifort and a 3-5
iu.pc^hat helped her through yi-ars of loneliness, making out
:i faith for herself without the aid of established authontiis
ami appointed guides; for they were not at hand, and her
iK'cd was pressing. From what you know t)f her. you will
not be surprised that she threw some i-xaggeration and 3--o
wilfulness, some pride and impetuosity even into lur srll-
t-emmciation : her own life was still a drama for her. in whuh
she demanded of herself that her part should be playt>d with
intensity. And so it came to pass that she oflm lost tlu- spirit
of humility by being excessive in the outward id; she often 3^5
strove after too high a flight, anci came down with lur poor
mile half-tledged wings dabbled in the mud. I'or example,
slie not only determined to work al plain sewing, that edie
ini'dil contribute something toward the bind in th<- tin box,
but she went, in the first instance, in her zeal of self-morlihca- 330
tion, to ask for it at a linen shop in St. Ogg's, instead of
getting it in a more quiet and indirect way, and could see
nothing but what was entirely wrong and unkind, nay,
persecuting, in Tom's reproof of her for this unnecessary act
"I don't like my sister to do such things," said Tom; " I'll 335
take care that the debts are paid, without ^our lowering
yourself in that way." Surely there was some tenilerness
and liravery mingled with the worldliness and self-assertion
of that little speech ; but Maggie held it as dross, overlooking
319-324. From— intensity. Refer
to a previous instance.
325-327. she— mud. Express this
without using figurative language.
333-33/
What are the crnph.Ttir.
word's til Tom's remarks ? How does
he show his "worldliness and self-
assertion" ?
I
111
t 11
! ' !
iiiii's
IjNi^l
■ 1
i I
1 ;,
' !
276
.-/ D VANCED RE A DER.
340 the grains of gold, and took Tom's rebuke as one of her out
ward crosses. Tom was very hard to lier, she used to think
in her long night-watcliings— to her who had always loved
hmi so ; and then she strove to be contented with that hard
ness, and to require nothing. That is 'the path we all like
345 when we set out on our abandonment of egoism— the path of
martyrdom and endurance, where the palm-branches grow
rather tlian the steep highway of tolerance, just allowance,
and self-blame, where there are no leafy honors to be gathered
and worn.
344-349. That —worn. Exp.ind I does the author give of " oalm-
the Metaphor. What explanation j branches" ? ^^"^ paim
1. Is the " Key to Human Happiness " objective or subjective? (r.)
2. Show that the mode of treating this subject adopted in the preceding
selection is cliaracteristic of the author. ^ 'o
3. Illustrate from this selection " the conflict between the inward im-
pulse and outward fact " spoken of in 1. 16. '"N\aru im
4. Show that Maggie acts according to the author's estimate of her
character m 1. 17.
5. What are George Eliot's views on the subject of school studies?
G. Point out passages specially remarkable for beauty of thought and of
language, bee Critical estimate, 11. 73-75. ^ 6 lu ui
7. What moral lessons may be learned from this selection ?
8. Point out those opinions of the author that are not generally received.
9. Refer to Critical estimate, and show what peculiarities of George
Eliot s style therein mentioned are illu.strated in "The Key to Human
Happiness. ^
Composition.
Sketch Maggie's train of thought without the author's reflections.
.;fi?fflL.
s-«««9*feitwTSf4ei9ft*jigj
of her om-
id to think,
ways loveil
that hard-
we all lik(
-the path of
dies grow.
allowance,
be gathered
2 of "palm-
ive? (i.)
he preceding
e inward im-
imate of her
studies?
lought and of
ally received,
es of George
y to Human
ctions.
DICKl'.NS.
Du,in« .his ,«r oJ „e f'";l-J ' « ', ' rCn.u.U.able ,o l,fm .for-
278
ADVANCED READER.
I I!
!i
It > I I
r-
its richest a„,I rarcl fruii, s,. „, '. .1 , "'''«'"= " e''"'"' Protluc,,!
forward to each successive instalment In i8a2 ho v f > ^'"■'>'
title oiAll t/>^^RoZ D , '.^'; '^' ^^*^'^''^1-'^1 --i^other under the
high order en.h ed hin f ? ' '''''™"'''^ P°^^'^^'^' ^^l^i^'' ^^'^re of a
as a public readrn 2- T" T ^'"'^ *° '""'^ ^"'^ ^-'-^ -^-ss
^vhicLe':eS::;:d;r'^" rrL::;;rtr ;v'^^ ?^^^^' ^--•
35 strain upon his powers and in m7 ^ 1 "' ^'""^ ^'^'^ continued
C/;rc;;;/V/, , the most Dowerf,,! K ^'''",>^ /lK"-«.~^«.' and to the i^veniNir
were published ^/nf mbe t T,fe S^r^tiv"' b , ''"'' °^J^-'--'-^ -rks
in which they were bejiun pll Tu T ^""^"'^ ^'^ *^°"^ "^ ^he year
nally intended by tL publish, rf' ^"^r^-^^^'^^O): This novel was origi-
executedbyaMr stnot H? ' ''"'^"''^ fo^ certain drawings to be
43 be better L the mus r^I'ns t ' " ""^ '° """'^"^ "^^^^''"^ ''^^^ '^ --"'^l
allowed to have hi own waT ,v?h"'r "'^^"^■^"^'/"^ °f ^^e text, he was
pie. For about five months II Kr' ''•""'" °^ ^"^''^^ ^^^"^^ ^"^ peo-
appearance of Sam WeTlef he d^i^ ;'''"" ""' " '^'^"^''= ^"'- ""^J-
received no less tLn /.o^on''- T' ""°™°"^'y' '-^"^1 *he author
5o Like most of D.^^s^woTs th" Tf ^i '''''■^- ^'"''■'' ^"'"^ (^^^S) :
sparing exposure of the Zlavv^r If " '^'"'''^ P"^P°^^' ^^'^ -"
able odium on the writer aid ,ed V". "'' '^"'"" ^'"^^^^^ '^°"^''^'^'--
forbidden for a time AV /, / 1^ , °, ''" presentation on the stage being
the gro.ss ^srargemtf orY^:t :^ 'SS!\ ''''' rT ''''' ^''^
55 genius ofits author in full activitvrn;,^' ^'""^ '^°^' '^^ ^^""'^
Dickens's peculiar humor cL ins its^^^fu U - b'T"'' f'"^ .^"'^°^ ^ """^
exquisite element of pathos S/ v ,^ ",^\''"^"°^^'^''-''"'^ h'-*^ '* ^ "^°^e
Dickens's most famous rrtnt ,? ' *''" heroine of the tale, is one of
dents are founl.ron the r "'f. ''"''""'^' ^'"'^" (^«^°)^ ^^^ "^^i" i"ci-
^ historical cha a ers . e > t^^^^^^^^ "No Popery" Kiots in Z780. Several
field, the latter under t'/°'"'''^ ^'''^ ^^"^^°" ^"d Chester-
(1S4S): Th;= a'^n dJ.r, ^"d character. Martin Chuzzlewii
4V - -... a. .n d.aL w.th American life, and gave great ofTence to the
f ! 11
DICKKS'S.
79
people .ho. it aucptea to de.nb. ^ is espec^aUy --^^^;;^^^-;;: ,^
L,ention it devotes ';> t - ^^V-- ^^ ^^^^j;;,, ;epresentat>ve of the
nurses in Lnglrmd. '' S.iiicv Oam ' , ^^.^ Christmas books
l.uter, has long since become famoru, ^^^_^^ _., ^.,^,,,„„, Carol u,
-- P^^i^Hed ,n .^«43-; .;^;^-^^^ ^^;^>j- ,,^, ,,,, .. Old Year
/>,,,,; T;,.C/nm .. ;\ :7 y- ^^^7^^,^ ^„ ,,,, //,,,,,;,; a tender dunu..st>c 70
out and a New Year u . ^\^; '^ ' ^ ,,, ^;„„ .„„, ,;,, f;;,.,./'. /i.n-,,.o<.
,avll; r/n' «-'///<■ '>//^'/'^-'^"^\^''^^7''7';''''^,,^,,,,., navels in lulv.
,.,;..<n.s fro,n Italy (rS,6)^ A ---;^^,;^ ,;*^^: ' , ;^,„s e.lorts. The
^,,„„,,, „„i Son (1846) One of ^^'^^ ^^^^J^^^^^^^^^^^
death of little Dombey, the son^.s one o the m^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^„ ^^
,ion in his works. Davul Loppcrpdd l^«;^->^, ^V^^^,,^,,^ , i,,,e i,, mv
Pickens. "I like this the bes\, /^'"^Vl^^s 'n- I i 1 a^ c-opp-held."
Heart of hearts a favorite ch.ld and h. "-- - ^^^^biograpLal. ./
There is good reason to beheve that U ^^ '^[^^^ .. ^his novel exposes
anUrsHisioryofEnsUm.n.^5^). ^''''^^ j' ''If,. ."^^^ 's^): IVobabl one 80
the defects of the Court of Chancery. Had /^"'"/ ^ .^J , ^^ . i„
., the least successful of tire authors -- -^ ^^^ ^^^i/ j, ^ r.o
this work life in the Fleet Pnson is vtvidly V- ^ '.> ^^^^ ^
Cities (X859): ^^^^^'^l''^' :^^:^:l^^Co^nUol of lyi-
at humor. The scene of this uarrativejth^l^n .^^^^,^^^ ,^ ^^ g,
H„„^</ Down (18G0); An """^"^"y.'^^"!,^^'"""^ 860) A reprint of a
American journal. Tkc U>uo.....aal ^;:-'^- ^'''^./^....L/ FrunU
series of papers contributed ;<\;^' /''',^' J .f; ';,,/,/ £./«■/,. DrooU,
(1864). Gmi/ Expectations {1868); and T/a iVivsa^ y
which remains unfinished.
Ca,T,c...-AUho,„h highly ""-i-'-^, !>>„ "trsi^merh,r»Ip.-s "
,elt.n,adc man." He o.e.l nu,ch •" ^ «!;?^' « ^ ^^ ,^,'^ ■';,„„, „„ ,„.ived;
in the .art ot delineating everyday lite. I ''"X'' ';;>„,„, ,„„u hm. the
,„„ he ™''e-'^^''«<>;-''^; ;» ,^";!rero^ aTo",: L ,ual,tie, ,.1 his
most popular novelist of his 'aj . i " ^„^„,i„„ it is true, the former
style are hi. varied hnmor ->,|; ^into rnTirent'ality. These e^eesses
runs into caricature, and the latter u j i^i,„ i„ command of
are. however, the exception ; no humorist ^as - P--d m, ^^^^^ .^
the sources of our laughter and our tears. ^^ ;; ^^ ^^de'cr, nion are
ts always on the side of truth and "^.'^^'^^'^y-.^ "'^P^''/^' " e, the keenness .00
of the highest order. No characteristic of an object ^-^P^ ^^„^^
of his practised vision, and he misses no^ppoum^^^ >^^ ^^_
humorous association the vividness of \^''^'2'l^^^^J^,,a simplicitv ;
mar-able for their felicity ; his sentences ^^^^^llf""',^^^^^^ ,,HtiJs, how-
and his narratives, for their terseness -f -^^ '^^^^^ '^ ^ „,, ,een for .03
.ver, would not have given us his inimitable ^'^^^^-"Z' ^a the scope of
his powers of imagination and "^-^f;;;^". ^^ ^^^ .^^ ,, seems most
the other elements of his genius. ^^"^^^ \^ ' 7'^^.; , „ay be attrib-
pr.,minent in his whole being is his physical vigor. ^^ > ^'^'f "^ l
uted some of the faults of his style, and in particular .n. --> -
95
£
' '^Vd
M
1^1^^%^
W^m
r
280
-•//;/ 'ANCED RE A DEA\
no exaggeration. To this may also he attributed his varied excellencies ■ for
in Dickens ■■ there were united with rare completeness a swift resnonsiv.
ness to the impulses of humor and pathos, an inexhaustible fertilitv „'
discovering and inventing materials for their exercise, and the const-,
generative desire to give to these newly created materials a vivid nhstir
"5 form. Many of the faults of his earlier compositions-his soieci' m
vulgarisms, and fondness for punning-he avoided in the works of '•
later years; but some mannerisms clung to his style with curious pertin.'
city The niost marked are his fondness for humorous paraphrasing U>v
labellmg a character with some odd turn of expression, and his habit of
-o •■ turning round on every side a fact, fancy, or situation,-_of repeati, .
cc3nstruction, or part of a construction, in a strained and tedious fashio,,'
Dickens s hmitat.ons as a writer and thinker are due to his wan f
horough education. His Lettns from Italy display an ignorance of hisi
tory and an inappreciation of Art, that are no less surprising than the
>=5 calm serenity with which he ignores the value of such knowledge Tie
range of his characters is narrower than that of our greatest novelists, bu
e tho^ '^ " Y '^,""^"'-.P''^^-d' ^^^- ^yP- he delights in producing
arc those we are famihar with in the world around i,s. His pictures of
.nghsh rniddle-class life are hnished artistic studies; the higE soci
.30 hfe he .se dom attempts ; but the humor and pathos of povertv ^" avo t
hemes of his pen. His novels are emphatically novels of the hearrand
the home 1 he great aim of his literary labors was to show he goo
in everything." and thus knit mankind together in one bond of union "
thi end nature had crowned his genius with the supreme gift of a generou
135 and sympathetic heart. i"i a generous
A CHRISTMAS CAROL.
marley's ghost.
Mauley was dead, to be<,nn with. There is no doubt what-
ever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the
Literary.— What is meant by a
"Christmas Carol"? Explain the
terms "humor" and "pathos." (13
H 2 and 3.) Note throughout the
selection, the moral lessons to be con-
veyed by the Spirit scenes. Observe
the frequent use of Variety and Con-
trast, and the author's fondness for
Asyndeton, Polysyndeton, Anaphora
and especially for Epizeuxis. (12'
IV., ro, II, 20, and 23.) Observe also
the rapidity of the movement (n
11., i.) and (12, n.. I, b.)
121
i-ii. oee Critical estimate, 11. 119-
voSrjjo;:!^;;- mS^ihrf t?;^:;;;^::!;^ r '"^ r ^'^•^^'^ ^^^
vey the thought/and emotions ex^plSssed1nThen°rr^^^y''''^'^■ =^"^ ^°"-
Lommence with narrative pure tone, moderate time and force.
DICKENS.
281
,ler-vman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner.
Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge's nanie was good upon
•Change for anything lie chose to put his hand to. s
Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Scrooge knew he was dead. Of course he did. How could
,t be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don I
know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his
sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, .0
his sole friend, his sole mourner.
Scrooge never painted out old Parley's name, however.
There it yet stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse
door-Scrooge and Marley. The hrm was known as Scrooge
uid Alarley. Sometimes people new to the business ca led .5
Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley. He answered to
both names. It was all the same to him.
Oh but he was a tight-lasted hand at the grindstone, was
Scrooge ! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutch-
in., covetous old smner! External heat and cold had litt e .0
influence on him. No warmth could warm, no coUl could
chill him. No wmd that blew was bitterer than he, no .alhng
snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting ram less
open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have
him The heaviest rain and snow and hail and sleet could -s
boast of the advantage over him in only one respect-they
often " came down " handsomely, and Scrooge never did.
Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with glad-
some looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you? When will
vou come to see me ? " No beggars implored him to bestow 30
a trifle- no children asked him what it was o'clock; no man
or woman ever once, in all his life, inquired th. N'ay to such
9-11. Distinguish the descriptive
nouns.
18-27. See (I.', IV., 5. 6, 10, 11, 23,
26, and 32.) See also Ctitical esti-
keeping here with the subject? Ob-
serve the cumulation of epithets and
the author's powers of description.
28-37. How is Emphasis secured
26, and 32.) bee also ui.uc,u ...- ^^''^^^^^ ,, t\,„eh of one of
n.le^^; ^ ^^fe^'t^^i^r-scl^^
19. Read the adjectives so as to bring out the full force of each. See
note, 1. 16, page S9.
29-30. My dear-see me. Cheery tone of greeting.
282
ADVANCED READER.
lifl:
!<: ,
and such a place, of Scrooge. Even the hlindmen's do-^s
geared to know him; and, when they saw him con.iL o^
35 would tug the.r owners into doorways and up courts an l"
h.n wcndd wag the. tails as though they said, ^^ No eye
all IS better than an evil eye, dark master i'' ^
But what did Scrooge care ! It was the very thing he.
hkcd. lo edge h,s way along the crowded paths of lit.
.o warmng all lunnan syn.pathy to keep its distance, was wl ,"
the knowuig ones call " nuts " to Scrooge
Once upon a time-of all the good days in the year ,mon .
h wf "rr;rf ! -^'^^^^^ ^^^ ^^"^' -" ^- countn.g-r ;
t uas cold, bleak, b.tmg, foggy, weatiier; and the cty clock^
45 had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already.
mi^lul. °', °°^''' counting-house was open, that he
might keep his eye upon his clerk, who, in a dismal ittle eel
beyond, a sort of tank, was copying letters. Scrooge had .
. . ;-7 -"-' fi^e, but the clerk's fire was so very mucFfsnaltr
-^^ . 50 that It looked like one coal. But he couldn't repl n h ' t
Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room; and so st y a
the clerk came m with the shovel, the master predicted ha
would be necessary for them to part. Wherlfore the c 'k
put on his white comforter, and tried to warm himse f at tl t
.c^le;mwh^^^^
came upon him so quickly that this was the first htimadin
6o Scrooge had of his approach. mtmiation
" Bah ! " said Scrooge; " humbug i "
surl?-'"''"''' ' ^'""'''"^' ""'^" •' Y°" ^°"'t »^ean that, I am
" I do. Out upon iiierrj^Ch^^ ! What's Christmas
4.2-43- of all— Christmas-eve Fv c>, ,* h.t . ,
plain, and parse the former phrkse i Co^ntrasT'^- ' ^ ^ ^'^'^ ^^'^' "^
otir.^''t"¥oVeoUontil^^^^^^^^ f°r the opinion of
64. Scrooge speaks in a sneering, crabbed tone.
DICKENS.
283
time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a 6,
time for finding yourself a year older, and not an hour richer;
-I time for balancing your books and havm^' every item m em
'through a round dozen of months presented dead against
vou ' If I had my will, every idiot who goes about with
: Merry Christmas ' on his lips should be boiled with his own 70
pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.
He should 1 "
a Uncle !
- Nephew, keep Christmas in your own way, and let me
keep it in mine."
" Keep it ! But you don't keep it."
«' Let' me leave it alone, then. iSIuch good may it do you !
Much good it has ever done you 1" , • ,
.' There are many things from which I might have derived
good, bv which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas 80
among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought ot
Christmas time, when ii has come round— apart from the
veneration due to its sacred origin, if anything belonging to
it can be apart from that— as a good time; a kind, forgiving,
charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, m the 85
long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one
consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to tliink ot
people below them as if they really were fellow-travellers to
the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other
iourneys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a 90
scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done
me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it !
The clerk in the tank involuntar-'.y applauded.
" Let me hear another sound from you," said Scrooge, " and
vou'U keep your Christmas by losing your situation 1 You're 95
quite a powerful speaker, sir," he added, turning to his nephew.
" I wonder you don't go into Parliament."
79-92. What characteristic of the
author have we here ?
94-97. Note the wit.
and see (12, IV., 13.)
(13. II-- 3.)
73. Uncle ! Expostulation. 79- Earnest tone, moderate force.
94. Scrooge speaks to his clerk angrily, and to his nephew sarcastically.
M .
1 11!^!
m
.'■ Vi ill
284
ADVANCED READER.
110
" Don't he angry, uncle. Come ! Dine with n^ fo »,^
Scrooge said that he would sec hin" Le'rhcMln
.00 He u^nt the whole length of the expression, an sai In !
would see him in that extremity first. '
" b'ut why ? " cried Scrooge's nephew. " Why ? "
" u hy did you get married ? "
" Because I fell in love."
" were'^"""', '"" ^f '" ^°^" • " ^'^°^^'^^J Scrooge, as if tint
Na3-, uncle, but 3.0U never came to see me befor.^ H .
" Good-afternoon ' "
"Good-afternoon!"
" And a happy New Year ! "
" Good-afiernoon ! "
sta";,!,;:";™':" '"^ ™™" -">-' -^ ^n^ry word, notwi.h.
"' ^^'it"Z'ii.;!•I,'scr:o,t "",'■'"" "'' "" -""'-»*o- arrived,
admitted t he tt to T' """"»'"""« f™'" >>- stool, tacitly
^^ yu 1 .vant all day to-morrow, I suppose ? "
II quite convenient, sir "
•• If. not conve„ien,^a,^„ot fair. If I was to stop half
120
130
99. See (12, IV., 3G.)
125-126. Ho\v had he " tacitly ad-
mitted the fact " ? Distinguish "tac-
itly" and "silently." ^
_^08. PropiUatory .„„e. ^T^^^^i^^^ii^l^.^tf.rent ,„„,, required i„
.07. Abrupt tone of dismissal. „,. The clerk is apologetic.
DICKENS.
2H5
a-crown for it, you'd think yourself ini^^htily ill usod. Ill be
boutul?"
"Yes, sir." , , , ...
-And yet you dou't think ;;/.' ill used when I pay a clay s ^
vva},'es for no Avork."
" It"s only once a year, sir."
u A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every tw(<nty-
fiflh of December! J3ut 1 suppose you nnist have the whole
cPiv lie here all the earlier next morning.
' The clerk promised that he would ; and Scrooge walke. out ,.0
with a growl. The office was closed in a twinkling, and the
cl k i'ith the long ends of his white comforter dangling
belos; his waist (for he boasted no great-coat), went d<,wn
a hde at the end of a lane of boys, twenty-tunes, m hoiun ot
L bei^g Christmas-eve, and then ran home as hard as he ...
could pelt, to play at blindman's-bulT. , , , 1
Scrooge took Ins melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy
tavern; and having read all the newspapers, and beguiled the
re t of the evening with his banker's book, went home to
bed He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his .50
deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite o rooms, in a
lowenng pile of building, ivp a yard. The budding was old
enough now, and dreary enough; for nobody lived m it but
Scrooge, the other rooms being all let out as offices.
Now it is a fact that there was nothing particular at all 155
about the knocker on the door of this house, except that 1
was very large; also, that Scrooge had seen it, night anc
morning, during his whole residence in that place; also, that
Scrooge had as little of what is called fancy about hun as any
man it the city of London. And yet Scrooge, having his key .0
•the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without its^under-
going any intermediate process of change, not a knocker, but
Marley's face.
147. Note the prevailing Figure.
148-150. having read— bed. What
characteristics of Scrooge are here
indicated ?
155-160. Classify this sentence.
Account for the author's choice.
How else may the sentence be writ-
ten?
137-139- Surly tone. 141-146. Animated description.
iHi
iffll
11
1
'i -
> -■
m
m
' 1
1
r
^
I!
hi
!
' rfi^H
'1 ' ■
1 1 i
lif
t' 1
jI^B
V 1
1 1
286
ADVANCED READER.
^J^:X°ti'^^^ "- phc„on,e„o„, ,. .a. „
.7- with a ha.^; ' ^ °°''' P°°''! "nd closcl the door
cellars „e,ow, appoaro.l ro Ce a ep "a t"::;;':;'"?''""'':
IH- Shu, his heavy <l„t ho "al,?, T "f "^ "'" ''^'"^
<iressi,4«o..,:, u-hic t ha^t;: ,! I^IT' '' "°'°'y '" '-
against ,he wall. Lu„d>er roCas. u'ai 'oh,°r """"t
..:';:otr' '^^ «^"-''-^-' — '-.--u on uiiri^;':;;!]
.lo'il'ledo'ctfw^'re.f 'r'' ,"", "°°^' ='"'' '-'-" '""-'f in;
secured aga „s. s ,„ i "' ^ "' riT ^'' =">^'°™- Thus
■« before ,he very low firi't'o ^k^l.is grllef ""'"' ^"' ^^' ""^"^
-nrnnieared, for -^rr^ir;-:;;:: ™- -
oal'S«','Stejr "1Z: ^'"' '^■•"i-lE'lipsis. and ,he abrupt m„ven,e„,
.»--.9o. Note ,„„ p;evi,e„ce of i '■"ut"?^"""">- "■•''"- -"-
DICKENS.
287
lur in the hif;hcst storey of Hk- biiil.lini,'. It was with -teat
istonishtmMit, and witli a stran-o, incxplu-ablc clu-ad, thai, as .00
iu> looked, he saw this bell iH^-iii to swinj,'. Soon it ran- out
UnuUv, and so did every bell in the house.
This was succeeded bv a clanking' noise, deep dow.i be-low,
as if some person were I'ha^'-inK a heavy chani over the casks
in the wine merchant's cellar. '"^
Then he heard the noise much louder on the floors below;
then coming up the stairs; then coming straight towards his
' °h came on through the heavy door, and a spectre passed
into the room before his eyes. And upon its coming in. the ..o
dying flame leaped up. as though it cried, "I know lum !
Marley's ghost!" • , ■ • . -i 1
The same face, the very same. Marley in his pigtail, usual
waistcoat, tights, and boots. His body was transparent; so
that Scrooge, observing him, and looking through Ins waist- ..5
coat could see the two buttons on his coat behind.
Scrooge had often heard it said that I^Iarley had no bowels,
but he had never believed it until now.
No nor did he believe it even now. Though he looked the
phantom through and through, and saw it standing betore «o
him—though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold
eyes and noticed the very texture of the folded kerchief
bound about its head and chin-he was still incredulous.
"How now!" said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever.
"What do you want with me?" "s
"Much!"— Marley's voice, no doubt about it.
" Who are you ?"
" Ask me who I tuas."
" Who were you, then ? "
" In hfe I was your partner, Jacob Marley." »3o
" Can you — can you sit down ? "
" I can."
213-^16 Observe the peculiar de- I 217-21S. Note the witticism. (12,
scription— the selection of a striking j IV., 26.)
and unexpected feature. ;
226, 228, etc. Marley speaks in a low, solemn tone.
«*»*«»««»«
2«S
ADl AXCKP A'h.lDKA'.
ii.j
ll:
"Do it, then."
Scroo^'c asked the fiucstion, hccnuse lie didn't know \vli(>tli, i
nsa ghost so transparent n.i-lit /ind himself in a condition i,,
take a chair; and felt that, in tlw event of its heinj,^ inip.js
sible, it nii-ht involve the neressitv of an emhartassin-
explanation. J^,ut the ghost sat down on the opposite sidr
of the lirepl.ice. as if he were qnite used to it.
240 " Yon don't believe in me."
" I <lon't."
" What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that
of }-our senses ?"'
" 1 <lon't know."
»45 •« Why do you doubt your senses ? "
•• Because a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of
the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested
bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crmnb of cheese, a fragment
of an mulerdone jwtato. There's more of gravy than of <rrave
no about _\'ou, whatever you are ! " "^
Scrooge was not nmch in the habit of cracking jokes, nor
did he feel m his heart by any means waggish then 'J1ie
truth is that he tried to be smart, as a means of distracting
his own attention and keeping down his horror.
»S5 But lunv much greater wa^ his horror when' the phantom
taking ofi the bandage round its head, as if it were too warm
to wear in-doors, its lower jaw dropped down upon its breast '
" Mercy ! Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me ?
\\ hy do si)ints walk the earth, and why do they come to me ? "
«6o - It IS required of every man that the spirit within him
should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and
wide; and i( that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned
to do so after death. I cannot tell you all I would. A very
httle more is permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay
258-259. Distinguish
from "apparition. "
"spirits"
234-239- Note the humor, espe-
cially of 11. 236-238.
24G-250. What characteristic of
^'!'""H\i%^^'''' ''*'^''^y^''' ^^'-i —o. account tor ,
b'l^ ,"f Scrooge s conduct so far i character nf the laniruat^e. Why no'
been p.obable ^ ., ti^^j -^^-^ ^ - ^^ ,r> - -
260-268. Account for the changed
258. Tone of terror.
'wm
' - "iMf'iiiSiBgi
DICKESS
annot linger anywlu're. My spinl lu
289
viT walkctl lu'Noiul 3('i
. ..„„„ti„i. liousc— mavk nw!-in liff .ny spin. .U'v.T ...v..
;:;:::" U,:'„a,row muus of cr ,no„cy.ch.n«,„K lu,!.; an,l
tiavi-l fast?" „
.. On tin- willy's of tlu; wiiul.
..You might have got over a great .luantUy of grou.ul u,
''''o l!lula".na», bhna .nan! ..ot to know that ag.-s of inces-
sant labor by innnortal creatures for this earth ,nust pass nUo ..
et r ity before the good of wlucl> it .s susceptible .s all .U l-
o J Not to know that any Christian spn.t workuv. knu U>
s little sphere, whatever U n^ay be, w.ll Inul ., . nu.rtal
if, too short for its vast means of usefuhuss. Not to know
t " ^ - 'f regret can make anu-nds i^>- one hfe's oppor- -
jd!
%'et 1 was like this man! 1 once was like
tunili' lusu^
' '•■ lliryou were always a good man of business. Jacob,-
,tc.ed Scrooge, who now began to apply tins to iy'-- ;
..Business!- cried the Ghost, wrn.gmg Us ands agan,.
^. Mankind was n.y business. IMie connnon welfare was n
busu.ess; charity, mercy, f-'-l'-^^^"-^^'^'^^^"^;,^^":; , '
mv busmess. The dealings of my trade were bu a du.p ot
water in the com;)rehensive ocean of my busmess!
Scrooge was very much disuuvyed to hear the spectre gou.g ^^
on at this rate, and began to quake exceedmgly.
"Hear me! My time is marly gone."
- I will. But don't be hard upon me! Don t bq fiowery,
•■''? anf l^re to-night to warn you that you have yet y.
chance and hope of escaphig my late. A chance and hope of
my procuring, Ebenezer."
repetition that follows. jtocomey.^
^^^.nnr, What char ac tctistic of 1 ,-r^.,c ♦r.nrhps
"/--/-'• .,, ' , „,^..uoa V I 2(1 < Note ihc humorous toucneh.
Scrooge is sti 1 strongly marked :- I ^'JJ'
283. Faltering tone.
T
fe:,(i.
"
(i lil'iMJ
290
ADVANCED READER.
tre^A '''Expec'rihetsur,'' """"' ""^^ '° ^'"■" "- P^.i. I
One. Expect ieseeold oh"" "'*•""' "''^" "'^ '='^" ^ "
- The mJ, upon t e , ex^ „ thr'?"''''V" ""= ^^^ ''°--
Twelve l,as ceased to vtete 100^ o" '' '"=' ^'"'"^ <"
look that, for your own sake von r f ' """ "° "'""^ --"-I
between us! '• ' *°" '^'■'"i«"ber what has passe,!
It walked backward from him- an,! ,t
3.. the window raised itself a Jittie Lott T^^.^''^ " '«''■
reache,! it, it was wide open ' ' ^'" ""= ''PParition
wi'cT-SGhS'h'lue^treT- a' ^-;-"«> '"^ <^°or !.
had locked ,t with h,s"writnd, ™J ,f "We-locked, as he
-;-b«,. Scrooge tr.e,! .0 sa;"'^, 1' , ^r.^f ! "f"^ ""■'■^-
the first syllable. And heing fron?th„ *^ .■ T ""PP*^'" ■•>'
gone, or the fatigues o.' the d^v , T°"°" '"= '""' >«"i"-
world, or the dtJl co.n'e^ a "oT'o/th" ?,'""''= °' "" '""^'We
of the hour. „,ucl, in need o '"no , °''°''' °' "'<> '"te-^'^s
3»w.thout undressing. anjLfarro^':,,:-::.:;;!?'' '° '^"''
THE LAST OF THE SPIRITS.
. The Phantom slowly, {rravelv ^il^nf i
^t came near him, Scrooge hen/ 1 ^' ^PP^O'-^ched. When
tJ^e very air tliro .^h ^.^nch th s s'^V^^^" ^"' ^"^^ ' ^^^ '"
scatter gloon. and myster^ ^"'^ "^°^'^^' ^' ^^^^ed to
and 2.)
(13. Ill,
-^^S!tiSSiSSofS£,arE^^
DICKENS.
2gi
It was shrouded in a deep black garniont, which concealed s
Its head, its face, its form, and left nothing' of it visible save
one outstretched hand. But for this it would have been
(liriicult to detach its figure from the night, and separate it
tioni the darkness by which it was surrounded.
He felt that it was tall and stately, when it came beside .<>
him, and that its mysterious presence filled hhn with a solenui
(head. He knew no more, for the Spirit neither spoke nor
moved.
" I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas \et lo
Come ?" said Scrooge. . , • '*
The Spirit answered not, but pointed onward with its
hand.
" You are about to show me shadows of the things that have
not happened, but will happen in the time before us," Scrooge
pursued. " Is that so. Spirit ?" »<>
The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an
instant in its folds, as if the Spirit had inclined its head.
That was the only answer he received
" Ghost of the Future !" he exclaimed, " I fear you more
than any spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is 25
to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from
what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and to do it
with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me ?"
It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight
before them. ^'*
" Lead on !" said Scrooge. " Lead on ! The night is
waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead
on. Spirit !"
The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him.
Scrooge followed in the shadow of its dress, which bore him 35
up, he thought, and carried him along
8-9. to detach— night and separ-
ate—surrounded. Is this an instance
of Tautology? (12, V.,i,fc.) Distin-
tinguish "detach" from "separate."
14-15. Account for the capital let-
ters.
35. What is the antecedent of
"which" ?
14. Scrooge speaks in a low tone, expressing awe.
ji. Read with faster time, and with greater force than 11. 14. 18,
2g2
ADVANCED READER.
'■I
They went into an obscure part of the town, where Scroo.
had never penetrated before, although he reco^nLeTits sTtn'
with fil.l'aXi:;,;"'* "'= "''°'^ 1-"- ---ked witi, cr,„H..
ss from ,ho co d L "L „ bj M;; "'. """"'' '''™^="'
laneous tatters l,„ng Z a ^'c a'r 'TT,'"°" "^ '"'^=^'-
•ho luxury of cal„, '^Z.L^ ' ' """''"'' ''" P'P' '" '^l'
37-5J- Obf.erve the author's de
^-npt.ve poueis. See Cruical estl
male, Jl 99-102.
37-180 Point out tlie vile qualities
of degi-n.ded human nature that are
here portrayed.
54-57- who— retirement. Is this
arrangement of clauses correct ' U ,
IT., I, 3.) • ^ i'
xhJ^fl f"^^^ """^ recognition. Is
there a diflerence in the ideas these
words are mtended to express here'
n. xNarrative pure tone, moderate time and force.
DICKENS.
293
.< Let the charwoman alone to be the first !" cried she who
1, ,a entered first. " Let the laundress alone to be the second ;
.Hi let the undertaker's man alone to be the third. Look
llere, old Joe, here's a chance ! If we haven t all three met 70
liere without meaning it !" , „ • 1 , 1 t
u You couldn't have met in a better place, said old Joe,
removing his pipe from his mouth. " Come into the parlor.
Vou were made free of it long ago, you know ; and the other
wo ain't strangers. Stop till I shut the door of the shop .
\h t How it skreeks ! There ain't such a rusty bit of metal
in the place as its own hinges, I believe ; and Im sure there s
no such old bones here as mine. Ha, ha ! W e re all suitable
to our calling, we're well matched. Come into the parlor. ^
Come into the parlor."
The parlor was the space behind the screen of rags 1 he
old man raked the fire together with an old stair-rod, and,
having trimmed his smoky lamp (for it was night) with the
stem of his pipe, put it into his mouth again.
While he did this, the woman who had already spoken 85
threw her bundle on the floor, and sat down m a flaunting
manner on a stool, crossing her elbows on her knees, and
looking with a bold defiance at the other two.
'< What odds then ? What odds, Mrs. Dilber ? said the
woman. " Every person has a right to take care of them- 90
selves. He always did !"
" That's true, indeed !" said the laundress. " ^o man
more so." . . ,
- Why then don't stand staring as if you was afraid, woman ,
C7. Let— first I Observe through-
out the author's use of colloquial
language suitable to the characters
portrayed. Express correctly any
deviations from purity. See (13, I.,
'■^ , • •
70-71. If— it! Express the princi-
pal proposition.
81-84. Observe the touches by
which the author heightens the effect
of his picture.
89-116. What feeling prompted the
speakers in this preliminary conver-
sation ' 15y what considerations is it
overcome? Note that it relieves the
1 horror of the scene.
67-09. Emphasize " first," " second," " third."
70. here's a chance ! Emphasize " here's." not " chance.
78. Ha, ha 1 Imitate the old man's laugh.
294
ADVANCED READER.
too
" Very well, then !•■ cried the woman.
No, .ndeed ■■ said Mrs, Dill>er, la„^hi, r.
.-ew •■;:::;;s'.t':L'aT f:i '- "'^^."-^' ^ -'^^«- ",„
...lifetime ? If he had he' , h ' , '^ ""f " ' '"" "■^'"™' '" >"^
after him when he t f ; ,tl . rn; H ^°"""'°''^ '° '°°'>
Ifasping ont h,,, last there, ZL b; himSf '' ""'''" °' '^'"«
0.i'f ''arrtnCntt ,::„■■-- -^^••' -<- ^r.
"° " anV;t'tho,:h^,a^f ,!:e';rzi;*T'''\r''"^^ "■= — ^
have laid my h.„,: ^^^It'ZZV'^ " 1'°"'"
Joe, and let me know the valne of it' 9, i '',""*''• °'''
not afraid to l,e the first nT e ,\ '^"'^ °"* P'""- I''"
duced /,,5 plunder. It was not extensive A T^ ' ^''°"
»o pencil-case, a pair of sleeve UuhZT I . ^^^^ °' ^^°' ^
value, were all Ti;ey 'v"re evlr" ,' '"^ " ^'""''^ "^ "^ ^^eat
l^y old Joe, who ch^^kU 1 e sunTs "rwrT'' ^".^ ^^'^^^^^^^
each upon the wall ^n<] 7^ i T!? disposed to give for
fo,.n<. /ha. there^; ^In ^o^t To' eLT ^ '°'^' *" "^
"':^?:^^:i:^ircsti:d'.:--ru-
crSn,? Sor ofTe''°partkulars' I of the ^1?'' ' '^' ^^^ ^° *^« g^astliness
.w the w.y in which in-sintenSi?o %<...".'■ ,?"" ^''' I^- ^6 and
by the author's art. The tuuches in •" ^^ ' ^^'° "' "7 ^"^^ ^32-133.
DICKENS.
295
140
145
toiiK's, and a few boots. Her account was stated on the wall 13°
in the same manner.
" I dways give too much to huHes. If'- a weakness ot mine,
and thafs the way I ruin myself," said old Joe. " Thafs your
account. If you asked me for another penny, and m.ide it an
open question, I'd repent of being so liberal, and knock oil i?^
half a crown."
" And now undo tnv bundle, Joe," said the first woman.
Toe went down on his knees for the greater convenience of
opening it, and having unfastened a great many knots, dragged
out a large heavy roll of some dark stuff.
" What do you call this ?" said Joe. " B.xl-curtams !"
" Ah !" returned the woman, laughing, and leaning lorward
on her crossed arms. " Bed-curtains !"
" You don't mean to say you took 'cm down, rmgs and all,
with him lying there ?" said Joe.
" Yes, I do," replied the woman. " W hy not ?'
" You were born to make your fortune," said Joe, " and
you'll certainly do it." .
" I certainly shan't hold my hand— when i can get anything
in it by reaching it out, for the sake of such a man as he was, .50
I promise you, Joe," returned the woman, coolly. " Don t
drop that oil upon the blankets, now."
" His blankets ?" asked joe.
- Whose else's do you think ?" replied the woman. " He
isn't likely to take cold without 'em, I dare say." '55
" I hope he didn't die of anything catching ? Eh ?" said
old Joe, stopping in his work, and looking up.
" Don't you be afraid of that," returned the woman. " I
ain't so fond of his company that Id loiter about Inm for
such things, if he did. Ah ! You may look through that .60
shirt till your eyes ache ; but you won't find a hole m it, nor
a threadbare place. It's the best he had, and a line one too.
They'd have wasted it, if it hadn't been for me."
" What do you call wasting of it ?" asked old Joe.
" Putting it on him to be buried in, to be sure," replied the .65
woman, with a laugh. " Somebody was fool enough to do it,
142. laughing. Account for this action. Cf. 1. 166.
2g6
ADVANCED READER.
it 1 « 1 . j » I*- '
i!
:i
but I took it off again. If calico ain't good enough for smcI,
a purpose, ,t isn't good enough for anything. It's mite ,
^^^ b^econ.ng to the body. He can't look ugher than he'Thd t
Scrooge listened to this dialogue in horror. As thev sit
grouped about their spoil, in the scanty light afforded n
the old nians lanip, he viewed them with a detestat on u,?i
|l..sgust which could hardly have been greater to ^ht
■..had been obscene demons, marketing the corpse Usdf. '
Ha, ha ! laughed the same woman, when old Toe pro
ducu.g a flannel bag with money in it, told out their sevenl
guns upon the grounu. '' This is the end of k, you ^e
He frightened every one away from him when he was a h'e'
i8o to profit us wlien he was dead ! Ha ha ha '"
L see I see. The case of thus unhappy man might be mv
Tthis ? ' ' '^ '""^^ '''''' '''' "°^^'- ^-^'^"1 Heaven, X
'«s He recoiled in terror, for the scene had changed and
now he almost touched a bed-a bare, uncurtained iX
on which, beneath a ragged sheet, there lay a sometht.
t::L z;:^^ '-^' ' - ^-''' -ounce^t^ij
';o The room was very dark, too dark to be observed with
any accuracy, though Scrooge glanced round it in olediln e
was A pale hght, rising m the outer air, fell straight upon
the bed ; and on it, plundered and bereft miwatcheH nn,
•05 uncared for, was the body of this man ""^"''^^^^' ""^^P^'
'■-crooge glanced towards the Piiantom. Its steady hand
was pointed to the head Tli« ^ J^ieaay hand
iusfPrVth.f fi r . ''°^''''' '^^^ so carelessly ad-
upon S ro • '^'""' '''""^ °^ '^' ^ "^"^'-^ «^ the fi'^nger
pon Scrooge s part, would have disclosed the face He
'°° ^^but had ''' ''''" ''''' '' ''"'''' '^ '^ ^°' and tnged^o
ctllist tll^^^r^hi^^S: '' ^''''''- ''' -' ^^" -
^^^^rthis. thy dominion I But ^T thr^::^!;^^:^:;
DICKE^'S.
297
1 .nnred head, thou canst not turn one hair to thy ch-oad pur-
t make one feature odious. It is not that the hand
Tavv Ind wUl fall down when released; it is not that the
'Z ^' ^ue U : heal;, brave, warn, and tender ; and the .o
rous, anclttUL, ^ sh-ulow strike! and see his f^ood
"'vo voice nro„o„nced those words in Scrooj-e's ears. ,u,.l
,e^hc heard them when he looked >,pon the 1,« I- """'^ > -
f his .mn eo,tld be ra.sed up now. what would '« h.s ; • -
.losl thoughts? Avariee,hard.deahns,gr,p,n. cares? 1 hey
I .,,0 hrou'^ht him to a rich end, truly!
He av" n l>e dark, empty house, with not a ntan, a wo.nan
.h,ld to sav he was kmd to me in this or that, and lor „„
T " iv of one kind word I will be kind to him. A cat
fZ^Z a ^e'-:, and there was a sound of «nawu^
.t^taath the hearth.stone. What tl.y wanted m the
riotno" death, and why they were so restless and d.sturbed, ^^^
Qrrnnfe did not dare to think. .
. Spirit' ■■ he satd, " this is a fearh.l place. n leaving .t,
I shall not leave its lesson, trust mo. Let us go . . • . ■ •
. Le me see some tenderness connected w,th a dea,
said^crooge ; " or that dark chantbor. Spu.t, whtch we left
'"^^Sr::,:^SC«;everalstree.^n.^
"pmef Ve^y q«iet. The noisy httle Cratclnts were as still
as s ames in onl corner, and sat looking up at Peter, who
hacalok before him. The mother and her daughters wore
e,°gaged in sewmg. Bu^surely Utoi^were very qu.ot !
.,,.,35 Note in .hi, touching I p.itho,. <'-'■ "■•J^ ,,f° *"'"""•
scene ?h« author's characteristic | cal esumate. II. .30-13=.
240. Bat-quiet ! head 50 as to express surprise.
I i
1 I
ill
298
ADVANCED READER.
'• • And He took a chil,!. aiul set him in the niirkt „f ,1, . -.
\Vhore had Scrooge hoard those wo ri," He '7''
t's-:t'^™;e./it;s;zy-vhrrrr
poor%;tJr '"''-''''■''''' ^^'''- The color? .M.,
" B.■!^^h;nI1:rhas ™ied";xf T'-'^r -'^ '»°^-
-these few last evenings, mSr' ''""" """ ''^ "-'■
"" so nave 1, cried Peter. " Often "
;; And so have I," exclaimed another. So had all
But he was very lirrht to carrv " .h^ i
her work, " and his father loved lin, so thrtT ' '"''"' "'""
no tronble. And there is your fa*:;:.' 'o™^"° '-"■"-
^o^n-eS ntd' :fr;o'r;eCir:er s.it -
ready for h m on the hoi, o„j .u „ ""^ ''^^ >ras
him to it tnost Then d ; , ^^ "'<^"''' "''° ^''°»" help
knees, and laid, elch C d Tli^n V'''''' "°' "P"" >"'
".•if they said, " Don't mM i^ fat i/ n "f f'"^' .'''= f-'=<^. -^
Bob was very cheerftd w L li T ' '"= 8''"=™'! '"
all the fannly/ He looked at t^"' "J." '"°'^'' P''^'^™"^ to
praised the h'dus.r; i°°d pee^ '' "m^:^^ "f" 'he table, and
Sunday ! You went to-day, thenjiobert ?" sa,d his wife
s.nS °^re'''"c?',r^JrfJj^-''V.. ^J Observe.hro„«„
^47-.49. Express .he l^eni^:^;:^:^^;^-^^ ^^^^^^.^^ ^^^^^
DICKEXS.
299
.Yes my dear," returned Bob. " 1 wish you could liave
.one it would have done you good to see how grcc-n a
rrce it is. P>ut you-U see it often. I promised huu hat
I'ouUl walk there on a Sunday. My little, little child ! cried ^^^
l>oh " My little child !" , , . ,f ,
He broke down all at once. He couldn't lu^p it. f he
,ould have helped it, he and his child xvould have been
f irther apart perhaps than they were.
He lef the room, and went upstairs into the room above,
which was lighted cheerfully, and hung wUli ( hristmas. .s^
Ther was a chair set close beside the child, and then, were
siins of some one having been tliere, lately. Poor H.,b sa
own in It, and when he had thought a little, and composes
iZself, he kissed the little face. He was reconciled to what
Ivul happened, and went down again quite happy. -^°
They drew about the fire and talked ; the girls and mother
working still. Bob told them of the extraordinary kindness
fM Scrooge's nephew, whom he had scarcely seen but
:Le and who, meeting him in the street that day and seeing
Uiat he looked a little-" just a little down, you know, sa d .93
Ob, u.quired what had happened to distress hun. On
which," said Bob, " for he is the pleasantest-spoken gentle-
nan you ever heard, I told him. ' I am heartily sorry for 1 ,
Mr. Cratchit,' he said, ' and heartily sorry for your good wife.
By-the-by, how he ever knew that, I don't know.
" Knew what, my dear ?" ,. 1 -d 1
u Why, that you were a good wife," replied Bob.
" Everybody knows that !" said Peter.
. Very well observed, my boy !" cried Bob "I hope they
do. ' Heartily sorry,' he said, ' for your good wife. If I can 305
be of service to you in any way,' he said, giving me his caul,
. that's where I live. Pray come to me.' Now it wasn t
cried Bob, " for the sake of anything he might be able to < o
L us, so much as for his kind way, that this was ciu.te
300
279-280 Why would the substitu
tion of "small" for "little" be un
suitable here ? Note that, as here, the
281-283. If— were. I'-xplain the
philosophy of this statemeiu.
203-204. whom— once. Criticise
suitable nere .' iNoit- uidi, tt^ ■•^'^. "— ^yj-^^v-t- "•—"• --
author's most powerful effects are Uin^. lan-uagc. (12, V
often produced by single strokes. 291-335. Show that this part of the
1 scene harmonizes with the rest.
300
ADVANCED READER
M
\:
i!.
,! I '
- I'm sure he's a good soul,' said Mrs. Cratchit.
^ ou would be sure of it, my dear," returned lioh " if .
saw and spoke tu hiir.. I shouldn't ho nf nil , ^""
3.3 what I say !-if he trot Peter 1. T '"'■^'"^^^-"'ark
y . ii ne f,ot J^cter <i bettor situation."
^^ ^^" y ^-'ar that, feter." said Mrs. Cratchit.
And then, cried one of the ^WrLs, - Petcr will h. i- •
parting, that there was amon^ us T' ' '~°' ''"' '''''
3^5 " Never, father !" cried they all
was a little, little child we ^b..lI . f ' ''^^^^^"f^'h he
ou..se,ve. an. ^e. ^1 Ti,: 'C°: ^7 ."^^^ ^"™^'
33. •• No, never fa,l,er I" tj.ey all cried aRain.
1 am very happy," said little Rnh w t
33S God ! ' "^ ^""' "'y <='"!'''* «se„ce was fro,,,
Tell .e what „,a„ that .as who'rje'Ikt-l^ ^Tad " '"°-
3. -." nor lea^.Ta;t,:r- ^^^^^^^^^^^^ "-=
vvorthv Dlare \\^,iio^ • i i ground. It was a
334-335 Spirit— God! Cf 1 .,t -,
and explain the meaning of '■ch'ild ! ti,.?^"^'*'^' ^"^^^^e author's descrip-
ish essence." ^ cnuu- tue power. Name and show the
-?r i.r r> 1 , I effect of the Figures
sc;n'e"''5f?^y^°Pih---lofthis;
^ ^' ^__342^egjowth life. Explain.
t'' "'d'Lh'''" M?°*^ ' ^'°" ""' ^^^^^^"t-' tone.
34-'. death, not life. (III., o, t.)
DicKiiys.
,vith too much burying ; fat with rcpleted appetite-
place !
A woilhv
The Spirit stood amon^^ the fjravcs, a.ul po.nud dou,, 103.3
J' I advanced towards it trnnbhn, 1 he I'hant.un
wis exactly as it had been, but he drea.led that lu- sass
new meaning in its solemn shape. ^
. llefore I draw r.eaier to that stone to which you pom.
said Scrooge, "answer me one question. Are liiese tlie 3.0
shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows
of the things that May be, only ? , , • 1
SUU the Spirit pointed downward to the grave by whuh
'' Xen, courses will foresha.low certain ends to whi.di if .s
nersevered in, thev must lead," said Scrooge. "Ihu if the
courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is
thus with what you show me !"
The Spirit was immovable as ever. , , ,
Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went ; and 3.0
following the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected
,rrave his own name, Euknk/ek Sckooc.h.
"" .. Am 1 that man who lay upon the bed ?" he cried, upon his
knees. The linger pointed from the grave to bun. and bark ^^^
" No, Spirit ! O no, no !
The finger still was there. , . , .
^> Spirit!" he cried, tight ch.tching at its robe " hear me !
I am not the man I was. I .viU not be the man must have
been but for this intercourse. Why show me tins, if 1 am 3;o
past all hope ?" ,.,.,»
For the first time the hand appeared to sliake.
'' Good Spirit," he pursued, as down upon the ground he
fell before it, "your nature intercedes for me, and pities me.
Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have 375
shown me, by an altered life."
The kind hand trembled. , . n
- I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all
351.352. Notice the emphasis on " Will ' and " May." (HI., 7, "■)
366. What are Scrooge's feelings as he utters these words
lit
♦is
If!
m
si:;:: '::;;:;„ '!:;:• ,t ,';:?'• r-. r , '^'■'"- '-
-can He ha.i ,.een sohb^^T^en iJ' n't,. ''"T '° "'^
the Spirit, ami his face .^ ..r^!!^ Z^^ """-' -"'
and all. They are hen> T f ^ '''^'' "°^ ^o^" ^lown, rin^rs
<. ti....«. .i,a. J„d havr;;-'., ■; r^etd^" tT^'-' "[, "'^
I know they will !" ^ tii.pelled. They will be.
410 kind of extravagance. parties to every
" I don't know what to do '" cnVd c;^r^^ i
cry.n. in .,e sa„,e ..ae,. ^^'^^:^:S^::;^
390-392. See (12, IV., 25.)
412. Laocoon. Show the force of
^^^^^ure. (12, IV., 19.) ^^
4..-4.7. Ncice .he chcerT^iTtone which Scrooge now u,«.
i)icKi:ss.
303
of himself with his stocking's. •' I am as h^ht as a f^i-athcr.
„„ us happy as an an^^d. 1 am as mrrry as a schnol-boy. I
;, ,s S' ^^ ''^ 'Inmken man. A Merry Chnstmas to..,
i.'rvbocly! A Happy New Year to all the world! Hallo
l^.i-e'l Whoop! Hallo!"
He had frir-ke.l u to tiie sitting-room, and was now standnig
ilu-re, perfec ly wind* 1.
"There's th sav.c ^pan that the kernel was ir
! " ( lied 4'o
S,-,oo-e, start ■'- ofV again, and going round the fireplace.
"..There's tho .oor by which the Ghost ot Jac .. Marley
.ntercd ' There's the cornel where the Ghost of Christmas
I'resent sat ! There's the window where I saw the wandering
Spuits! It's all right, it's all true, it all happened. Ha, 4^5
''ue'Iliy for a man who had been out of practice for so
nuuiy years, it was a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh.
The father of a long, long line of brilliant laughs !
.' I don't know what day of the month it is." said Scrooge, 430
" I don't know how long I have been among the Spirits. I
don't know anything. I'm quite a baby. Never mind I
don't care. I'd rather be a baby. Hallo! Whoop! Hallo
here ''
He was checked in his tran' i'^.rts by the churches ringing 435
out the Histiest peals he had ever heanl. Clash, clash,
hammei, ding, dong, bell. Bell, dong, ding; hammer,
clang, clash! O, glorious, glorious !
Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his
head No fog, no mist ; clear, bright, jovial, stirring cold ; mo
cold piping for the blood to dance to; golden sunliglit ;
heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry beUs. O, glorious,
glorious ! 1 1 i
"What's to-day?" cried Scrooge, calling downward to a
boy in Sunday clothes, who perhaps had loitered iii to look 445
about him. . , r 1
" Eh ?" returned the boy, with a" l is might of wonder.
436-438. See note, 1. 16, p. 89. 4J'J-44^. Read with fast time, (HT, .1,)
444. What's to-day? Read in the tone a person would use in calling
to some one.
k 5
lii
304
ADVANCED READER.
i 'm
is
" Whafs to-day, my fine fellow ?" said Scrooge
" To-day !•• replied the boy. " \Miy, Christmas Day "
450 " It's Christmas Day r said Scrooge to himself. " I haven',
missed .t. The Spirits have done it all in one night The
can do anything they like. Of course they can. Of coins
they can. Hallo, my fine fellow .?" ^^ corns.
" Hallo !" returned the boy.
<3s "Do you know the Poulterer's, in the next street but one
at the corner ? Scrooge inquired.
" I should hope I did," replied the lad
'- An intelligent boy !" said Scrooge. •' A remarkable bov '
Do you know whether they've sold the prize turkey that w '
400 hangmg up there ?-Not the little prize turkey, the big one '-
U hat, the one as big as me ?" returned the boy
to talk to hmi. Yes, my buck !"
" It's hanging there now," replied the boy
46^ " Is it ?" said Scrooge. " Go and buy it."
" Walk-ER !" exclaimed the boy.
" N;^' "°;'; ^aid Scrooge, " I am in earnest. Go and b,u
It, and tell em to brmg it here, that I may give them th ■
chrecfon where to take it. Con.e back witVthe maT a
470 I 11 g ve you a s Inlimg. Come back with him in less tha, fiv-
mmutes, and I 11 give you half-a-crown '" ^
The boy was off like a shot. He must have had a steady
hand at a trigger who could have got a shot off half so fast. '
I 11 send It .0 Bob Cratchit's," whispered Scrooge, rubbin.
''' ndTit ' ^ ;^'"'rr "^'^ ' 'r'""' " "^ ^^'--n't know wo
sends It. It s wice the size of Tiny Tim. Joe Miller never
made such a joke as sending it to Bob's will be - '
The hand m which he wrote the address was not a steadv-
--, but write it he did, somehow, and went downstairs o
nvf: Asi::! T;r'^ ^^^'^^ coming of the po::;:^-:
cal^iuhi^e;^^' '""' ^^'^^^'"^^ ^"^ --^^' ^^- k-cker
VMtn . hand. I scarcely ever looked at it before. What
449. Why. Christmas Day. Read so as to express the boy's surprise
DICKENS.
305
n honest expression it has in its face! Ifs a wonck-iiul 48.
i;;;o!;ker!-Here-s the turkey. Hallo! Whoop! How are
von ' Merry Christmas !"
■ It was a turkey ! He never could have stood upon lus le-s,
that bird. He would have snapped -em short oil ui a niuu.te,
like sticks of sealing-wax. ,. ^'^"
"Why, it's impossible to carry that to Camden I own, said
Srioo'^e. ' "You must haveacab." . , ,, ,
Vchuckle with which he said this, and tlie cluukle with
,vhich he paid for the turkey, and the chuckle with which he
,,nd for the cab, and the chuckle with which he recompensed .,.
he boy, were only to be exceeded by the chuckle with wuch
l,e sat'down breathless in his chair a-am, and chuckled till
'''shlvlng was not an easy task, for his hand continuc.d to
shake very much ; and shaving re.iuires attention even when soo
vou don-t dance while you are at it. Ihit it he had cu the
end of his nose off, he would have put a piece of stickm--
nlaster over it, and been quite satisfied. , . , ,
He dressed himself " all in his best, and at last ^n.)t out
into the streets. The people were by tins time pouring forth. 50s
-is he had seen them with the Ghost ot Christmas I resent ;
and walkin^^ with his hands behiiul him, Scroo^^e regarded
^ler'yjne with a delighted siuile. He looked so irresistibly
pleasant, in a word, that three or four goocbhumored fellows
lud', " Good morning, sir ! A Merry Christmas to you s.o
^d Scrooge said often afterwards, that of all the blithe
sounds he had ever heard, those were the blithest m his
'^He 'went' to church, and walked about the streets, and
watched the people hurrying to and fro, and pa ted the
children on the head, and questioned beggars, and looked
down into the kitchens of houses, and up to the windows
and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had
never dreamed that any walk-that anything-coukl give um
so much happiness. In the afternoon, he turned his steps 5^0
towards his nephew's house.
5>5
491. Emphasize "carry." (HI-. 7- "•)
v
II!
!•;.': i '
306
AD I -AXCED RE A DER.
^A '■
mm
Ho passed the door a dozen times, before he luid tl„
courage to go up and knock. ]^ut he n.ade a dash, a,,,,
5^5 " Is your master at Jiome, my dear ?" said Scrooge to tl ,
girl. "Nice girl! Very." ""^e to tli,.
44 \' • »•
1 es, SU-,
" Where is he, my love ?" said Scrooge.
" He's in the dining-room, sir, along with mistress. Ml
530 show you upstairs, if you please."
alrcad on the dining-room lock. " I'll go i„ l.ere, my dear •
He turned it gently, and sidled his face in, round the doo,
They were looking at the table (which was spread out in gre i'
533 airay) ; for these young housekeepers are always nervoiis
such points, and like to see that everything is riWit
" l;red !•• said Scrooge. Dear heart alive, how his niece b^
marriage started ! . . . . -
" Why, bless my soul !" cried Fred, " who's fhat ?"
''\v-li \ ^^''''' """''' ^'^"°^'^^^'- ^ ^'^''^ <'omc to dinner
U ill you let me m, Freil ?" uinnei.
Let him in ! It is a mercy he didn't shake his arm off
He was at home m hve minutes. Nothing could b- heartier'
came. So did the phm.p sister when she came. So di.i
everyone when tluy came. Wonderful part3', wonde
gaines, wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness^
but he was early at the office next morning. Oh he was
eari. there. If he could only be there first, ^and catch Bo,
"°Wnpor"^^"^' That was the thing he had set^-s
And he did it ; yes, he did ! The clock struck nine. No
i^ob. A quarter past. No Bob. He was full eiditeen
n-H.tes and a half behind his time. Scrooge a wu h
5SS door wule op.n, that he might see him come into the T n k
His hat was oil before he opened the door, his com or'ter
too. He was on his stool in a jiffy, driving away with his
pen, as If he were trying to overtake nine o'clock. ^
Hallo ! growled Scrooge, in his accustomed voice, as
DICKENS.
3«7
roo<re to the
voice, as
lU'a
here a
r as he con
t thi
1(1 fei^n it. " What do you mean by comiuf; s'^
of day ?'
time
I am very sorry, sir," sau
You are!" rcpe
1 Bob
ated Scrooge.
Sici) thi ■ way, sir, if you please
♦ I (till behind my lime.""
Yes, 1 think you are.
lt"s only once a year, sir,'" pleaded l^ob, appcarin- from 565
-^ 1 .< li. ..K..11 .,^(- K« ,v.,^t>nff><r 1 \v;is makiuij' rather
the Tank.
It shall not be repeated. I was makin-; rath
iiu
try yesterday, sir.
-Now, ril tell you what, my friend." said Scrooge. - 1 am
not "oing to stand this sort of thing any longer. And there-
Icre." he continued, leaping from his stool, and givmg Uob 570
such ; dig in the waistcoat that he staggered back mto the
Tank again,— "and, tiierefore, I am about to rais(> your
salary !"' , , ir t 1
15ob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. He had
u uiomentarv ulea of knocking Scrooge down with it, holding 575
him, and calling to the people in the court for help and a
slrait-waistcoat.
" A Merry Christmas, Bob !" said Scrooge, with an earnest-
ness that could not be mistaken, as he chipped him on the
back. " A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than 1 580
luive'given you for many a year ! Til raise your salary, and
endeavor to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss
vour affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of
smoking bishop, Bob 1 Make up the fires, and buy another
coal-scuttle before you dot another i, l5ob Cratchit ! 585
Scrooge was better th;.n his word. He did it all. and
infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die. he was a
second father. He became as good a friend, as good a
master, and as good a man as the good old city knew or any
other good old city, town, or borough, in the good oUl world. 590
Some people laughed to see the alteration m Inm. but he let
them laugh, and little heeded them ; for he was wise eiiougii
to know nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at
which some people did not have their fill of laughter m the
outset; and knowing that such as these would b- blind any 595
way, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle uj)
their eves in arms, as have the malady in less attractive forms.
His own heart laughed, and that was quite enough ior him.
I:
3o8
ADVANCED READER.
He had no further intercourse with Snin>c K„f r ^
-.he Total A,.s,i„e„ce Pnncipk. e^r aft' ^ids • „d ie"!;:
always saui of hi,,,, „,,,t he know how ,o keep ClniZJ^ ^u
■f any n,a„ ahve possessed the knowledge. May tha he tn
1. In the preface to his "Christmas; H,.r>Lc. •• i^ i
purfjose has been '' in a whimsic-U kh d of m. i ?^'''-''?' ''^''-^•'' ^^^^ ''i^^
the season justifk-s, to J^Z^'^^'^.^^f!^ ^'^ l'^*^ «ood luunor c
out of season in a Christian land " Sho ^h^ \I ;^^k"" "i""«hts neve,
in accordance with this purpose ' '^"^ Christmas Carol ■' i.
2. What is the object of each of the Spirit scenes ?
3- Point out contrasted scenes.
shJw?hSf aS:X;;f ^^ '^^ ^'^'^^ "^ ^'^^ SP-ts with Scrooge as h.
5. Discuss the question as to whether Dickens is an accurate writer
6. Wha mannerisms of the author does this selection e.xem^li I "
Di'ckJ^?:"s?;i;,^"'^ '''''"'^'''' ''' ^"'^"-'"'^' -^1 Kmotiona/gualities o,
ch^r^;SL;2;?LSi;^StSr^j^nSjS'r^^^
. Composition
:rooge as Ik
it additional
a
i
THACKERAY.
H.ooRAPH.CAU-William Makepeace ThacK. ray .as born ^mhe^S^of
lulv. i8ii, at Calcutta, where Ins father held an important P-'^'' " " '-
i' Service of the East India Company. When qu.te a ch.ld lu .as
ent to England, and soon after his arrival entered ("harterhouse School
Thence he passed ■-■ Trinity College. Cambridge, leaymg, hovveve .n 3
830 withou' taking a degree. We know little of h.s do.ngs at the n.-
vers ity. unless it be the fact that he ' --e commenced the literary u- k of
; •; ul^ by .vr.t,ng some burlesque ve..es for T/. S„o„ a ^^^^'f^^^^^
brought out at Cambridge. At first he chose the profess... of an art
and travelled in Germany, France, and Italy, ^tudy.ng the works of h
great painters, and acquiring some skill in drawing winch he aft_ ^ .rds
uirned to good service in the illustration ot his books. l>'-';«:- » ;' . ^^.'^
us that he first met Thackeray in i8.,S, when the young ar 1st mad. an
unsuccessful proposition to become the illustrator of the I ukuuck I .^ .
l-inally he resolved to devote himself to literature, for which h.s varied ,5
experience, keen powers of observation, and insight into ^^^:''^'''\''"^-
neiuly fitted him. Thackcrays rise w.s slow, c=.ni.ued with !». k. ns s
sudden bound into popularity. In 1836 he began a da.ly newspaper. / /.<
'« >: - ■
■'#1;!'
1
!*j- ':}
iLui
310
ADVANCED READER.
such na.nes as Michad Au^ S; l'" '^^'''"'"V^"'^'' '•"•^"-' ^''-l--
Charles J. Vel,o.,,l..sh, ^" .^I^S^of ^j^eor^e I;.tznoodle. Es,:,., and
writings, he contributed A^r m^t^^Lt,^■"^r "'''■'''''''' '^ '^'^
'3 /'.;;<•/, was founded, i. ,8,1 h. '.ec ' """'■'' ^/^'^'"^.^a., and when
vvithout^ . seen^s, an, intentic,:^;:,,,; J ^t '"-,^;,;v"-' ^? ^'^ -•
!i<' dducied the hrsi of two courses . f 'iree years afterwards
^'^> -'Peat.d ,n An^erica iniH^^T 'r'"'' ''V'^' ^^'"' '^'"r others,
3°u. i^,,,- CO hecon.e a member of'l.'rli.mT' '"V""''^'"'"'''- '^''^ '''"-"1"
-t.rwards he edited s.^^^^^^^^'J'"'^':', ""-ccessful. Shortly
-o- b. n,aki,:, their first appJa^an^ j, , '7'""' ''"^"''"'^' «°"^« "^ his
iualth had been ddicate, buVwhrhe ".s ' . TT' , •'"."''^"^ >""'" '"^
^4^h of December, :H5,, the suddent; t^' ! L', T'wL 'T ""'" "" ''^'
35 to ois intimate friends. * ^^^^ ^ surprise even
PRrvc!
and :
PAt, WoRKs.~r/,. Pans Sketch Book (,840)
3f sketc
/• A. ,. ^ ^J' • ' ""- result of a tour in Irelnnrl ,\' / j- ^
from Cornhill to Gnuul Cairo (iS.,) • Th. rl , r •- " "^^ " >'"-"n
*° a tour in Turkey and I'lgypt f1' J /' f ^is observations during
(^«47-i>Vt.S): A s'torv ilh.str ed bv h' ' T.'" "' '\ ^^"""' "'"^""^ '-^ H^'-
numbers, on the is;ue w^^l fh V ' T^ '^"^''■^^^'^'' '" '""""'■v
chiefHnglishnovelisttxncl it . T^ '"^'^' '"'^ P'^'^^ ''- o"- o'' the
-of a young ilan^of SLi, ^ hi tl'"" h'- "' '^'^'^^'•''-^^ ^^e c-'-
Esmond yi^-^.y The fin.! . ' ""''""f^' extenuating." /y,,,;.,,
Waver.; ^^' ::t:^::2:^.^-^z^ ^ ^^
characters, place it first among ThaSlra; s Wott- ''"'^^ "^ ''^
foUure is its elaborate imitati.m^ /^ .1 ! ^'^ ^'-^ '""■'^' •'^t'-i'<i"K
50 thought, of gueen Anl^e' r £ ' Va v' " '^' ''^"' "'^'^ "'^" "— ^^
Respectable Family (1854) ■ V ,vorl d ^'^^^ '"'"'' ! "'"• ^'-'"^oirs of a Most
regarded as the au hor's mas e n - t,"'' T'\ '"'" '""*-'• ''"^'' '^^ '"^"3'
Newcome,-..the finest port ,Pr , "'^^ ^''''' '''''''' '^ ^^°J""-1
^i^ice Scotfs time. T e p a t lo at "" ^'^^"'^'■>' "^ ^'^"^''^^ hction
-his ruin and death ai^ J^::;;::!. ^,^ ^:: '' clelicat. with which
of humorists." The F/W„/„„, . „, ' %/ ', '" ^^"^ highest rank
^«^). A .. :uel to Hcn^y I^Z^^llL^^' \t "^^ ''T''' '''''■
and havi. , .e American war fo^ a ^ ^u'"" ''^ ''""'"^''^ "•'
!no'-e markeaiy than any of his previous v. -"""-^r. ^' "°''*'' '''='P''''>'«
«o ang which came to Thackeray fr.m h'sna. i;; ■.^ '"''""^ ^° ^^''^"^-■
vagueness to even his best narr.^ive Th. ' '"^ ^^'^''^^ ^'^'^^ --^
of the following Christmas boik" publishL ■- ""h '''° ''^ ""'^"^
*'«is /i,/// O"/- S'--- n P- '.^'"""^"e" . ' ous dates .—A/.'s p,„
Rou.,n,: ■■A';orr;Z:\X a 'r:,^^! "' wd^t '" ''''' "f ' ^'■*^^^''" "'"
I lomance, written in ridicule of Scott's
111 !'
THACKERAY.
3"
,,f Nvliich it professes to be the si
Hiiel, rmd Tlir Kiiklfhins oi; the 05
7J
Khnu: a s. t.rc ' ' '"^^ .nagazines sketches, essays, t.urU-s.,t.es,
p,.ece.lin,,hecontn utc, tos.ru K ^^^^ ^^^.^^ ^^^ ^^^^. ^^ _^^^_ .^.^^^,
novelettes and -''^ J^/ /'] /^ ,^,„,„„, y,„„...s,s Dian. H. Book of
-'''''' ''''Vr:^},Zl, A^" V and Tl. Four G.or.rs. ThacUnav
was also the author c/,no</</. <-/ //'-■ /)n'm,
and HeranKer.
Thnrkenv was a thorough re.alist. Uv .lescril-es life as he So
Critical.- rhackcra> vsas a i k , i.-ashionaMe !• n^;l.sh
saw it. with its -mmglcKl -:';ff,^'j;''^,,^^,;\,,„,s are true t.^
society was his avonte «'."'\y. ^;^' ;^" .^ ,,,..ssed a refund knowledge
their pathos no less than ,n the.r ^^^ '^^^; "^ . ..aknesses of human
^^^r'-^.r^ m:^ ::^;;srr::;;:u: "...Id, nnspar.n. h.. .
nature. Many 01 m^ V ,,.n,l,.r i-raee that have n.ver been
shrewdness, AnJ Bcn.lcm.nly '»''"«^.'',',.^„,„, „,.-„, .1„»,. ,.t ..,y ■»
'"""■"'"f r' i::'rr r.;;:rco pi;;:;!.';^ «.„,.., ,., , , ...«
ether luighsh writer. In poetical i _^jj^^^^^ ,^^.^
makes us regret it was not more freely -^' ^^ ^^^^^^ ,,f ^,„ „,, .-acy
,i„, ,,, touching, while others are ^ ;;'^^^ ^^J,,, ,,, „i, ,tvle,
iLnor. Thackeray 's.language IS fresh, ' > j^;*^ J.; ^^^^^^ y^^,,^ ,i..,,t tin. 95
.asy and lucid: but he -^ ^" ^^^;;:; ' f 1^ ^^ 1 Justice to his
plots. Even in his masterpieces, " ^^^^!;:^ ^^^ '^^^^^Z^, to have t-ld
;;, Have been dr^iming ever .. some >^^ '^ ^-^l' '- J.^ „ ,..,, „, .,„
himself with a half-broken h-vr '.a it ^a ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^
into those bright regions. bAcr> nou anc. t ^^^^^^^^
i„anlge in .ligressions in which J -^J^,^ ^l,; J f^.^ks depends
and pretended allusions to himself. Hut the in ^^^ ^^^
least on the narrative. His characters are M.daidra ^
of life sounif^,rmly truthfid, that '"ji,-^^^-^.,,^', '::.„,„ ,0 fanl as
and read with protit and delight. Ihackcra)
the Censor of his age, but as one
" Wliosf word of wit luul ni-ntToiis pane ^
Were nuver vv.ulh. except wilVi wronK,'
AUh„u«h by nature U,„cMy and chivalrous even .„ a fanU, .,e U«. npcn „o
"i
".8
til
il
uaniirrmmmimnr ■
312
ADVANCED KEADEh\
himself the special task of satiri^inu fh,. foii; , •
wa. no cyn,c; and yet. at the U^^, '^Z^:^ "T 1,"'^ ^"^^'^'' "'
to be too much influenc-.i by the ev il Jo'c ft' ' '""^^■"^' ^'^ "^'"'l
had a genuine hatr.-I for -shams and h \ "" """"'' '''"^- ^^
-5 than most men to st.-.p off dis«u,^es a , , T'^f '''"^' ''^'^ ^J""« "loro
vanities: all is vanity •--this is he .^ hypocrisy. -Vanity „,
pages; for. as he sin J.' " •'""""""' ^^^'ch runs through his
"<'"' text is never stale
•■^"■""^^'-•■-ry.l.,y renewing '
''';:;'','';;"""'"'^"""'<-"i<i.oi.itaie
"t lolly, Fortune. Glory. Ruin."
Vulgarity and snobbery; worldliness and f-,!-
ticc; the low taste f^.Lsatic.nai^.^ture^^r'^H^ "■"''^^^' ""' '"J^
r.ghteous wrath. He jeers at A.llv and hoM ' '"■'"''^^''" ^''^'^^ ^^ '''•
"sandIi,t.c.„,.ssofournature- but he i 11 "^^ '^"'•" ''^^' "^^'-''"ness
liness, and simplicity,-of ■'^■' ''" ^^" ^'^'-' "^ "^"^'-ty, man-
" '^'""""' •""' '"'""'"■. <'e.lon. an.l curtesie."
i
lo
CHARITY AND HUMOR.
From " Lectures on the English Hutnoris.s."
I HAVii said myself soniewherp T ,^^ ^ i
correctness (for cfefinitionTnl °* ^'"^''' ^^"t'^ ^^''^'t
M'it and love I .n s ' ro T ''' -^"n^^lete), that lunnor is
is that which " ta 'n '7 T' ''''' ^'^^ '--^^ J-'"o'-
> favored thronlh^^:;:;^. ^tn^ ^7 1;;'^^^ -^^^i^ ^^
love does not demand constat^ utt^a L or ac"";/ f" ™'
as a good father, in conversation witl 1^ eti 1"^""''°;'
IS not perpetnallv embracinc^ them ornV I. °' ''''^^'
his love ; as a Jover in thp .Z I \u- "^' P'-otestations of
as far as' I atn led t ^ d elTt^t'':"''^^^^-^-^ '] "°^' ^' ^^^^
siglnng in her ear, >> M; Tul fda i„ 'TT' '" '"^^^' ^^
shows his love hy his condur h I S • '''^^'''^ ^°" ' " ««
ciestre to n.ake tL 1 eL e , ' ^'^ '' ^'^' ^^'' ''"''^^^"^
his eyes when she appears H^T '^'P^^^'" '^ ^'^^^^tens from
sne appears^^ho^^ he may not speak ,t ; it fills
Z?r'\^^*' ^"nstruction of these
paragraphs. Note the prevalence of
y^-> i v., lo. II, and 20 )
Liti:r..\k v. — observe thi^^Jili^h^
oJ his definition of Humor Point
out carefully the modes of FxposT '
t.on he uses. (,, m.) ^1;^'^
ch ef tgures of Speech and the pre-
^aliIng tvpo of sentence. i
1-^4 and 24-42. See (12. HI.), and '
THACKERAY.
yi
,„s heart when she is present or absent; n.fluences all us .5
.,,ls and actions; sniTuses his whole he.n,. It sets th.
Uher cheerily to work throu^'h the lonj; day; supports hun
;H,o„j.h the tedions labor of the weary absence or journey;
,ul sends him happy home a^^ain. yearnin^^ towards tlu- w.U-
'„h1 "children. This kin.l of love is not a spas.n. but a hie -o
fondlt and caresses at due seasons, no doubt ; but the >ud
heart is always beatin,^ fondly and truly thou.d. the wde .s
, ,t sittin^r hand in hand with hiu,, or the children hu^^nn^ a
s knee. And so with a loving hnmor. I tlunk U .s a .^enud
.dter-shabit of bein,; U is the kmd gentle spnU s way of ^.
okinL^ out on the world.-that sweet fnendhness winch hUs
s heart and Ins style. Von reco,Mn/e U. evc.n thou.di there
'not be a single point of wit or a sm.le pathetu- touch m
h \a,e, though you may not be called up .1 to salute lus
';:nun> a laih or a tear. That collision o ideas whidi 3.
provokes the one or the other must be occasional. oy must
e like papa-s embraces, which I spoke of anoi.,, who only
delivers them now and then, and cannot be expected to goon
kissing the children all night. And so the writer s jokes and
s utuneut, his ebullitions of feeling, his outbreaks ot Ing .>
spirits, must not be too frequent. One tires ot a page of whu h
every sentence sparkles with points; of a sentimentalist who
is always pumping the tears from his eyes or your own. One
suspects the genuineness of the tear, the naturalness ol the
luimor; these ought to be true and manlv • ' '■ m aseveiy- 4o
thing else in his life should be manly and t.ue; and he loses
his dignity by laughing or weeping out of place, or too olteii.
When Ihe Rev. Laurence Sterne begins to sentimentah/e
over the carriage in Monsieur Desseins courtyard, and
27. his heart and his style. Why
this order ?
28-30. Show the aptness of " point,"
and ••touch." Explain ■•salute,"
and •' collision of ideas."
,i-V,. They— night. Criticise the
arrangement of the words, and the
use ot the relative.
40-41. Remark on the ' angement
of the phrases. {12, IV , -'.7.)
4^-0o. Show that this paragraph
lis a mode of Kxposition. (3, HI)
! What (jiialities of style does the
■ author include un<UT thi- genera
name, Humor ? Cf. H. 203-240, and
i see (13. n. and HI). Is this classi-
fication in accordance with his defini-
tion ? How does Thackeray account
r .1 i:j:c ._.,.,,.,< !>,. I, .■(.(.!> till' phases
of Humor which Sterne's Works dis-
play ? Note the Satiric touches.
i
3U
ADVANCED READUN.
.\i ?
iiifi
I
45 ,, eteiKls to squeeze a tc-ar out of a rick.tv olcl sh , .
^vhen, presently, J,o encounters the ( e-ul L ''^'*";''>''-'" ^
t" l^•ln■.s. and snivels , . . ''""^"'>' "" '•'« '<>a.l
so your hvpoerisy- Te-.r. -? ^ ' """'^ ">'' '"'^'^"^' '>v
'•<-ts to .niXtune h 1 Uo^T i '"'? ^'''"^^^ "^ ^•"•'
tl.c coJlecfon mac ^fij ic d >' , ^'^ f "'^ "^"''^ ''"-^'f' '■'^"
••-'"'1 a l.e.^i; n iK X fo rf ^^■'""^^^^^'■'"^' ^vpocrite J.andiu,
"Pity for a lu H^/t ,;"" "''"J"'^-'""' -"> -kin,, vou •
'ilness and Unci 'r^ly": era";'":'; 't T, ^' "^^''^''^
con.ir.g home and rec.an^^n?hnw^/'r,;::'fv^* 1^---
,i,'cnerous emotioi win. I, K nis svvonl, 1 thank hiin for t!i,-
If I 1 . , ^' "^'^*' ■I'l'i Kindness and nitv.
. If I <lo not love Swift |as. thank God' I do , t I,
niinicnselv I may admire liiml ,, k I, ' , ''""evci
man «I,o placards h,' elf " 'V"^"'"'* ' "^«'" '""" 'l'^'
kin.1: l«L, "fc r,s Ls' '"""°f '-"«ii
" stone, as if to neme i I '*■" ""''S"^"<>" O" his ton,!,.
race,: ;.e ih!™! '^ "^ f™'"' ''gains, being born „fo„r
will, but St tirfriendlv il' i" """"• ""= "■'<^'>'<^- '< y"
Father; it is been,, e ' /; T'n '""i "''"''■■'" °' '■°'> °"'
•soothe hin, l" ° "'!'''' '■'"• "^^ ^'fi'" °f '-d^kd love to
passin,-alh,.ion o ,t ,r l" "• V"^' "~ "^ ''*^ """'W a
to assai, Ihei ", , . ■ 'Tr '"'' '-""■--'"f.-vnien, it is
" Lrutallv for being latlers and T°"l' ■""' '° '""*'''' "' "'""
"'".tioli in the iourn to 4 m 'i"'», ''°°"'- "« does
-'d of .ad. ^:z!:^l:;pt:„::i.^:::^::
THACKERAY
3»5
ilu'ii it is to con
found the brat for Ihmuk' iU. inul t
Hiilu'r
attending to i
t wluni she should have
Wvn biisv about
,1 (H
)urt intrimu' u\ w
And lie alludes to a smtor o
d.
f Stella's, and a malch she ini;-;ht
hieh the Dean \va^ deeply en^a^e
have
ina(
le, and would iiavo mac
ihl'J and faitldul and attaciu-d man
whom Swift speaks, in a '
Ic, very likely, with an h
Tisdall. who lovei
onoi
1 h.r
,I1HI i'l
k'lter to this lady, in lanj^ua-
so
foul that ywii won
Id not bear to hear it.
In trt'atinfi of lh<' 8^
,o,hI the humorists have uone, w, u.. :.v,>. ....w ess t uy
1 n.-ht and left behind them, it is not ol Uus one 1 .1 .u
:;;::k!Hlv"i help the loneW
.HiUitude of sins, with so little charity lo cover them. . . •
Vddison-s contributions to the chanty o the world. .>
Inve spoken before, in trying to .lepict that noble h.u.re and
.V now as then, that we should thank limi as one ol the
::,catest benefactors of that vast aiul immeasurably spreaCn,
f.uulv which speaks our common ton-ue. W herever it is
:;;^n:there il no man that does not h.el .ul ,^
,k1 use the noble English word -'entleman. And tlu .
' o man th.n teaches us to be gentlemen better than oseph
d >u.-.^entle in our bearin, through life; .en tie and
c u teous to our neighbor; gentle in deahn, with his tolhes
and weaknesses; gentle in treating his opposition ; deieren id .oo
to the old: kin.Uvto the poor a-, I Uu,se below us m degree
(for people above us and below us v.e mr.st find, m whatcve,
hem sphere we dwell, whether king. »v presidents govern us);
rnn no republic or monarchy that I know of is a c.ti/en
exempt from the tax of befriending poverty and we.akness, ot .o,
respecting age, and of honoring his father and mother . •
Now. a gentleman can but be a gentleman, in Broadway ..
the backwoods, in Pall-Mall or California; ami wljere .and
whenever he lives, thousands of miles away m the w. hlenuss.
wnenevei ne iivcr>, liiu^.-^.w— . ----- .
or hundreds of years hence, I am sure that rr ulin
if I ')(.' I U)
1
<
I i
I
W
•;
. 1 ,. .u.. tU,^ i-'iielish word ' Koinark (in its
'" ^ fu,. i.-i,„ire« definition of the woiil '
in this paragraph, explauung their
uses ^ ^ ^ "^ ,07-108. Account tor the selection
96. What is specially "noble" in jof the proper names
3i6
! !
*H!
ifli
i
^^^^^^sfl
f
I^R
'i
IfHfl^^
('
Up, o
ii
H
1
K
f.
•I
Si
1
r '
iiil
!l
ADl'AXCED KEADEK.
jvritii.^'s c,f this tr.u. Kantlm,.,,,. this troc rhnsti'.M H • .
J"sc-ph A<|,|.soM, ,nnst d., hi,,. ,..od. e n^ 'k ' S .r'"'"
cle Coverley to the cli,^i,.,s uith h.,.,. uul ^ nj ^ Z V
••'"'J ^'o„.l.h„„u>rc-,i a,..l uvhauc and frij^ 1 . ?"''"
"3 that stru.^Kd. i„ uh,rh his hf. is e.Jte F. V '" '""'•'' '"'
that the n,r,st l,r.lJia.,t vouth nv i *''''^^" '^-'^^^e to sav
n.e.ona. of a hy,o, j'Lr ;;' s:rtr;..^::/f ^'^
-anners lo,.,. since changed and ,nod./,ed. of r^^tT'' '"
'>"<! a preat and a brilliant and nohslw. i ^'^""tlenien.
conrteoiisness which can he Mnf ..f , '"'" '"''truct hnn. ,,
gentle respect and defer^e w n^h ^ "'l^' :"T'>"°'' = ''
""iHM.^dU f^race Of life, and chean d f/ ^^ ^ ^"'^'^ ''^^ ''"■
-after its old artihcial l,st,V.ctio,? f '' "^'"^"'^'n^i. 1<>,„
-vonls. and rut.es and I^^S ' ^ ^ '^^^l^i^^-^ f-'""
•"Hl Knitters, have passed away. '"' ''"'' ^^'"^^
Steele, as a literary hcMiefactor tn /iw, " i"i. ',
nn.k very h,«,, „„,,^.,,, :^'ZX t^l^ '' ''''"''■ ""'^'
.« «c.rc ah„„.l,„„, l„„ because his en io : ' „ rarTi^'^'r "''";"
"icreas,-,! u. value since he l)eone-itl,e Pro<hg,„usly
;" >;- :an,ls ,.e,„eaU,e,, .o ou^T: ^''^'I'^.r^:^':. T'T'""
1)V honest Captain '^^on in .f..*- i ^ ""''P'tal at London,
i.y...ehouseLin::scr;h::'''s.:^^^^^
'35 of sentimental writinir in Fn-Iish • nn i 7 \ fonnd.r
^ince „ccnp,e., ! an., ,tha. ^^^Z^'Z^tJ^:''- T"
■imlhn.lt up teneu.ents on Steele's croun ',!"'«""'""''
readers or hearers were never c.llt,! '''°"' '"' '"'"^
'ra.«,y; an.l con.passior. s n", ril.^^^' --'>'.- ^'
■4» otherwise than iu hiank verse or for P''^"' '""■"■
'" rank ".an a dethroned :;.:rclfor;:i:,r ;"'"'' '°''"
»>P-- He stepped o^r^l^^c^t™!:,,:, i:!,?'
Ji^'-ii7- this — ag-e. Whnt ,•= ' ^
ro erred to? Illustrate the a tier's ,,i .Vr/lf ?«fo'-e-empress. Fv-
snl.e,uent re..ar.s in the X- lo ;;';,iS'SJ^£rre\^-U-
f„ii"ti,""^°"8:ht-mankind. Show
, -y, ..s. Per „„. <,„e3 ..i. SSlliC^Sr^S^'v!; '
'^H^K
aown into common
iin
braced us a
TIIACKl-R.W
life; he lu'ld out liis ^'n-al hraity an
loi all wouu'U. a kiss
J'7
lis. au(
,11; he had a bow
,1
lor all
(in
Idren. a shake of the hau<l lor a
11 t
ucu,
hij^li or low
he "4^
showed us heaven s sun s
;hinin'j every day oii iiuicl ho
luts.
not Kn
ilded nalace-roofs only, ot e.
)U
1 1 processions, or heroic
1 pitelied battles, lie look
„l,ere llu I''' '"^ . ,,;, ,, ,|,..„ lu.sl.an.ls; ,.l rak.s
r:;: ::;' :;; : :;;; i::^.ani,s .<», ... sc, „ ti... „.,sn.i,u.
law.lrv sparkli,.K. h..ll<.w.l,.'ai u-.l . .......,ly "I . •<■
Uos.orat.on l k. ^^^^ ,^^^ ,„ ^„„, ,,„,,,u„| ,„
fairyliook*. ""^''"i" ■'■ sla.'f of lunii"iisls lias
^'''''^'"'''''";:mr:e7:tsaJ"an:i:V.l.l,....sUn,e, .h,-
;:;: ::"■;:;: thn::^s,„„s a,,. s,„n.a.i,i..s, .i„. ..........
:i';:;X' y ..t„::iy more avaHaM.. ; Lis ........s of .l.,i„« «...^
Mn;.c V mul.iplied; his s..ccess. a,„l .I..' cs..;,„. ... wh.d 1 ..s
l,Tl „ron >rlio.iatdy i..creaswl. 1. mi.....s a.. cKoU, ol
'n -^ i' ,md^ . -' ..ot capable, to u„.lers.an.l Do Q...>co.e.
: ,; Jna" otmo., pco,'le s.iU read Clliver (- .he >.ory
V Ma.w .nore persons are sickened l.y Jc...all.a,. W yld
Tu 'a,. . -mpr .end'.he satire of it. Each of .!,.■ «. ea. ...e., ...
ho wrote U.ose books was speaki,.K fro,,, beh.n.l .he sat.r
,t^k Tano.. ,„cn.io.,ed. Its distortions appall .na„y s,.„p
"nectators. its settled s.,eer or la..Kl, .s .....n.ell.K.ble to
Cam s' who have not the wit to interpret the n,ean,„« of
he vitorei satir.st preachi.,g fro.n with.,,. Many .. ...a., w .„
at f.:.... about Jonathan Wyld's greatness, - ^ -" ^^'^ J
relish AUworthy's goodne^^m^omjlones and Ur. Harr,son
o c /,- It T - \ i i6q. See (12, IV., i )
147-148. bee (ij, ii., I, 3 J - c»^i, «,ifhin !• xuiaiii
,;i4. The stage-Nature I - 1 .^^-^s^ Each^--w;th;n. l-^^ ^^^^
lustrate this statement from the his- , »" eacn cast
tory of Literature. ;satirisi.
f|
J
mam
Uns
•'M\
fii
iii '
i !f
W'
3kS
ADVANCED A' /-.I/ )/■/,'.
'" Aindi.-i, and dear J'arson A(l-.ni« n» i t
succor f,'.„llc ,v<„m.,i a,„l rl„l,lri.„ ■ u^' , , ""' ■•""!
I"il>''i. ..,,,1 rascals m.nis , , ,' "f *"■•-• «'••><' «hcn vice „
l"'vil;:«c ... sal„.e .1. I.l,,sln,,l ,•,;,;' ,Vsonr'°"'";"""
».-.•.. h..a,-,y sy,npa„,v an.,' , ,, , """^^ '"" '
■»tl.e ,.....■■, a Krcat ,.c.n„,.ness an., ,, ' for , T "' '"'
a sr..a, iove for ,l,o pnr.- an., ^o ^ , ""' '">'"""".■•■■.
■■""<r i..ns to ll,c .hari. f ,r ?' '"■'-■ '■""""« ""■
-.n,« ,,.„ n.,,,,,. cr,.„„n:::„.l,;t,";;' ™'''' -"' -l>-'l' .'..
.M.e;l:,';:,s';:it;:n'i,.;;,,>:':,r:';'^'r -"' -' -i^.u,..„
, ..... .ejoicc, w,,l O,; a' ^V,^:, ;'"■>• ■" )^«'-''.<"-l ■ Las
'....'ivcness a,,., res.ora'i. ^^ " ' i , "T" '■"'f'" '"^ '""
Ko.„l innnor over „.««■ ., ' ,f f ""''"' "'"' ''.-''."I"."!
I"ve.i wi.i, al. Ins la ^t ,,,?.' ' '" '''"-'"^'^.^''^^ ^ '-as n,„
'-vine, create., -Lese di;! .^^.r:;,;;'!:;:", :r"' ^"™
.;.■..< hction «.,nch speaks to ns s,"tcn ,e ! w , , c T h""-
'"'■ '".■ '" .•.l.-k :- Hen,e,nl,cnn« these '„;:'■' ^ " ""■
y<Mi y.i.u synipatl.v f.,r tl .,.,.1 t7,..v 1, ^ " ''""'
su.el eharitv wincli tliev ,r. I ""->^ ''f™ 'I"'"!. a".l for the
'" \Nl.cn lunnor o,,:, ;:;:':,:!'' °"."'^' «""''•
stirs the fe..|in..s to love '"•/.'.■'r'>.<.'s are countless; ,i
"...lal a™,,, cai? Thi ^'"T: '"""'^'^^^'V- as scarce anv
•■'...I .end ","'• / "::'f "' ''"™^'" ""^ ''>■■"- of I-
"» -.rl,hn. the ■■ H..n,,c l^^ilir'urLr "f'^^''' '■■^™^""-
with tears r„llin« .|o>vn the '.n ,,,t!"'"'::/"' ''"'• !"'' ^^'■'
I Lave seen Scotchmen sin..in. 'i , V '""' ^"'"'^•''
s.n„ni, l„ir„s, «h,le the .Irops triiikle.i
. I'D erring: but noble.
|ilsli...„l lli.-»oi.|,i,|,i,,.,. „f ,,„.„■ V; ■■■"-■..i.L-iauTir,,,
...4 -o-r .iiv.. ,„ .„e„.,„, .,f ,„, 11 .';:„,.';.' »• f?, App.y ,„..
Hie referred to. - '^'n_nth u, (ij, if,, , and ,),
^''-vtho -3-.,o.VVha.nrethecl,icfso,„-c.s
. -.'t -"' «"%»• an accou
incidents lure referred to.
THACKERAY.
Jiy
,„ Uu.ir f„rrowcHlclR>cks; wluU- carh rcuj^Mi ha.M was Wuu^
' ,. to urasp its neighbors; xvlulr ravly s<c-uc>s. an.l sacn.l
Llleciions, and dear and drH^httul nu.noru.s ot tin- ,>..st ...
une rushin, back at the sound ot llu- tanuhar word, uul
"sic 'uul the softened heart was full ot love, and t, .endslup,
"hc:^;;' Humor! if tears are the ahns of .entlespn.t.
,„. ,n,y be counted-as sure they u.ay a.non, the sweetest
ofife-s charities, of that kindly sensib.litv, and sweet sud.len ,.o
^,„,,aon, which exhdMts Uself at the eyes I know MO MU h
.,ovocative as luunor. It .s an ,rres.std> e svn.palln/.e. U
urpnses yoa uUo compassion; you are lau.hm, an.l d.s-
; 1,1, and suddenly forced into tears 1 heard a unnor.st
vdUuhst not lo,),^ since, a minstrel w,th wool on ns head, .-,
^"^"^ .Itra-Etluopian ron>plexu>n, who pc-rtor,ne.l a ne.ro
" nd t at 1 cont<.ss mo.stened these spectacles n, the nu.st
„ted manner. They have ,a.ed at <lo.ens ot tra.edy
nueens,dyinK on the staKC and expirn,,^ n, appropriate blanl<
?.!!rse and I never wanted to wipe them. 1 hey have lookeu .30
„,,\;uh <teep respect be it said, al n.any scorc-s (,t cKr^ynen
Jnhout bein^ dinnned; and behold a vagabond w.th a corked
face and a banjo sink's a httle son,^ strikes a wdd note uhu 1
sets the whole heart thrillin- with happy pity. Humor,
humor is the mistress of tears; she knows the way to the.,
/;,,s I,uhn„umn„, strikes in dry and ru^^.a.! places with ne,
enchantin^^ wand. an<l bids the fo.mtam finish an. sparkle.
She has refreshed mynads more from lur natural sprm^^s
ihan ever Tragedy has watered fron, her p.mipous old
''"vs'for" the charities of Mr. Dickens, multiplie.l kindnesses
which he has conferred upon us all, upon our cluldren, upon
,H>ople educated and uneducated, upon the myriads here and
l.t hotue who speak our common ton^n.e, ^^-have imt you have
,K,t I all of us reason to be thankhd to tins kuul tn.n.l. who ».,
soothed and charmed so many hours ; brought pleasure an.
sweet laughter to so many homes; ma.ie such mult.tu.ies ot
children happv ; endowed us with such a sweet store ot gracious
thoughts, fair^ fancies, soft sympathies, liearty enjoyme.its^
Ihere are creations of Mr. Dickens's which seem to nu- 1.. nmk .50
as personal benefits,-t^gure. so dehghth.l, mat one feels
-MO
ll
111
i. l
i '
KiMbJi
Ul
320
ADVANCED h'EA/yEK.
bro
ippier and hotter for J,
atriK
"^^'it into the society of
kM()\vin<,>^ tlieni.
'55 I
>s))/ici-c in which fl
\'fi\- ^r,)o(| men and
«s one does for I
'.^ : you feel that to he allowed
it'se people live is whol
Knidness; you
yoiu- hands seem cl
come away better for
t" ^pcak- to then
XMIl;
women. Ti,,
li'some to breath,
's a person. 1 1
th
leirs. \V
eaner from
your contact with tl
lein
as there ever a 1
the world than Dick
H'tt
^60 occasioned immense hospitahtvtl
"leans of lin-hti
t-aiised a wonderfnl
awfu
"i.'-'ip liinidreds'of kind fi
oiitponrinfr of Christ
'''^v.n;,Mheprivile^.eofshaki
;:';^'''''"'ty->^^'nnon i)reached
)elie\(.
^"i 'Mi-iand; wasth
>t-s at C:hristmas-tim,.
ens s " Christmas Carol ? •• 1 ,
irou^'hout JMi-land
III
11
siau;,d)ter of Christ
'^'-^'"1^ of Christmas beef; Asf;,r tl
'las turkeys, and
"las /;(ood-feelin<
ail
loastin^r ,.,„
'«5that amiable or^ran at the back
perfi'ctly nionst
o
"'^"lan's love of child
foil;
Ml
his h
'^"t'st head
t^vothatdo. ami read his 1
«-hildrenoii-ht to love I
pfnise the dismal
wbo. when sh
>ooks ten times f
i"ii. I k
reii.
"lust be
now
preachments of their fatl
<J'' once that th
ie\
I \
■ \ ""'" "' I'len tat/ier. I
;: ''.'?''''^' '■?•''« "^i^^HolasX.cklel
70 She ,s unhappy, reads ''NicholasN
bed reads -Nicholas Xicklel
reads ••Nicholas Nicklel
ickl
el)v
l<'iow one,
; " when
)\-
\V; when she has not I
when she is in
book
yoiuii
""«• to do.
re
■"!« "Nicholas Nicklel
a"d when she has fhiished tl
a7S
book
t^ntic, at ten years of
over afj^ain. 'fl
le
s much better th
'«:e. said, " I like Mr. Dick
expressed her d
»" your books, pap
lis candid
ens's
'ook like one of Mr. Dick
esire that the latter autl
md fre(juently
"lan must sav 1
28,, tl
h
way : l„cky is he who I
lis own thou'dit
enss books. \\')
f'l" should
write a
s in his ow
10 can ? Itvc
i\
us.
which brinK^s all the child
las such a charm
n voice, \\\ his
nif,' Kift of Nat
"n.and bein- fond of him '
reu in the worhl trooj
o\\ n
nre as
lin--- til
ren.ember when that famous •• N
out, seein^r a letter f
icholas Nicklel
ont, seein<r a letter frn.n -. . i ^-'^"uias .Mcklehy c
wiiich. df^ma^ :^ i; w^r'r^'" '" ^'- ^-^'^ -^ ^^^,1
'SsDickenssiil-advisedpubi
came
,^. was immensely comical.
H
a ch
ptil)]ication. "wrote thp
passed hke a whirl wiml over tl
poor schooima
e was a proprietor of
leuj) school. There
le schools of the NortI
I cheap school : Dotheboys Hall
ind
Mr
ster,
266
are many such establisl
was
'^n,i''^?°'^ *8:ain. See
tV',. 2 J and .'5)
(i-J. j 267-268. {
read,
and
mients in the
omment on the use „f
" peruse."
WBl
'■■i }
THACKERAY
3-! I
northern counties. Parents were aslianunl. that never wc-re
, liamecl before, until the kind satirist hui-hed at the.n ; .^
;,l uives were fri^htenecl ; scores of Httle scholars were taken
,uu-- poor schoolmasters had to shut then- shops up; every
p,aa.'o.nie was voted a Squeers (and many suiTered. no doubt,
;„nustlv); but afterwards school-boys' backs were not so
,„„ch caned ; school-boys' meat was less tou^h and more .,s
plentiful ; and school-boys' milk was not so sky-blue. W hat
, kind li'dit of benevolence it is that plays round C ru.umles
',nd the Phenomenon, and all those poor theatre-people, m
'tlKit charnung book! What a humor! and what a ^^ood
H,„nor I I coincide with the youthful crUic whose opnuon .00
has just been mentioned, and own to a family admiration tor
'•Nicholas Nickleby."
One might go on, though the task would be end ess and
„eedless, chronicling the names of kind folks with wlu.m tins
kind genius has made us familiar. Who does not ove the 305
Marchioness and Mr. Richard Swivellcr ? Who does not
svnipathi.e, not only with Oliver Twist, but his adm.rab e
voun.' friend the Artful Dodger ? Who has not the inestimable
advantage of possessing a Mrs. Nickleby in his own lamily
Who does not bless Sairey Gamp, and wonder at Mrs.l arns? uo
Who does not venerate tlie chief of that illustrious tamily
who, being stricken by misfortune, wisely and greatly turned
his attention to " coals," -the accomplished, the epicurean,
the dirty, the delightful Micawber ?
1 may (luarrel with Mr. Dickens's art a thousand and a 3.5
thousand times: I delight and wonder at his genius; I reco-
nize in it— I speak with awe and reverence— a commission
from that Divine Benelkencc whose blessed task we know
it will one day be to wipe every tear from every eye. 1 hank-
fully I take my share of the feast of love and kindness which j-
this gentle ami generous and charitable soul has contnbut.-.
to the happiness of the world. I take and enjoy my share, and
say a benediction for the meal.
303-314. See (12. IV.. 29,) and (13,
11,3.)
306-30S, Criticise this sentence.
w
315. What are the objections to
Dickens's art ?
317-319. a commission eye. I-x-
plain the bearing of this reference.
I }
ADVANCED READER.
I. What, according to ThackcTay, arc the essentials of Humor ' ]>
out th<. illustrat.ons he ^ives of his'.lef.nition. Nxhat n."m"s"Te orcli, ,',• '
is.s*..r!?'-'l^'" '''^''*'"l^''7 ■'•"'' '•^- ^^•''■" ••^".-isoninK does he show that Hunm
ists are literary benefactors to the worlds charity " ? niniK.
Hv!, J*'^F'^:'-'''''iy has been accused of beinK a Cynic. What proofs hav,. v
that Cynicism is not a characteristic of his genius ? '
.,.,'• )^''''" •'»'"^' t'lt' t;hief modes of Exposition ? Show to whn. .-v, .,
1 liackeray has used them in his lecture ''''"'
that .M-'a,^';:;,:^,;;-^''^ ''"'' "'"' '"^"'-^^ "^ ^p^-'^ i---' ? ^hou
6. To what extent lias Thackeray observed the rules for Strenuth ' i^
I.) Characterize the intellectual qualities of his style '""^ ''^'^^"«*'^ ' <' '
o. Aiemorize 11. g.S-ioS.
ter!.£TX^l:.!;;:'"'^^ "^ "^'■•-^'"" -^'' that of the authors chara.
^^i^:^E:^:;^L!t^,^^ ^-^^ -^<' ^--an Humorists
^j.i^ What are the main differences between English and American
Composition.
:»
I
Swift, Addi-
MACAl'LAV.
Biographical.— Thomas HabiriKton Macaulay, tin- most popular and
brilliant of modern prose writers, was horn at Kothky Temple, in Leices-
tershire, on the 25th of October, 1800. His father, wIk. had acpiin-.l a
moderate fortune in Jamaica and Sierra Leone, on his return to i: iif^land
took a leading part with Wilberforce and Clarkson in supporting,' the 5
Society for the Abolition of Slavery. Young NLicaulay was thus from his
earliest childhood brought into contact with high-minded, earnest people,
under circumstances very favorable to the development of literary talent.
At eighteen he entered Trinity College, Cambridge, where he won distme
tion in classics. During his undergraduate career he twire carried oft th '-
Chancellors medal for English verse, and became a distinguislu<l orator
at the Union, the debating society of the University. He took his d.-gree
of 15. A. in 1H22, and two years afterwards was elected a Fellow ot his
College. The great ambition of Macaulay 's life was to be a literary nnn -
above all, to be an historian. His first literary efforts were contributed to .5
Knight's Quarterly Magazine in iS.i3 and 1S2.1, and in 1S25 appeared his
essay on Milton, 'a performance which at once brought him into promi-
nence. Although called to the Bar in 1826, he jirobably devoted little of
his time to legal business. It was his literary ability th.it secured him
patronage. Through the influence of Lord Lansdowne he was in 1S30 jo
!| I
\\l^.
I
m
lU,, ;
i
m
, 1
1
:*ii'
^f\
1 '
:';
, »»1 r j
!•
324
ADrAXCED READER.
returned to F\irliament, uliort; Ik; took an active and important part on
the Whig side in the stirring Heforin debates of the follow ing sessions. In
1.S34 he was made president of a new Law Commission for India, and a
member of the Supreme Council of Calcutta. On his return to England
-5 in 1838, although professing to be anxious to devote himself to literature,
he was induced to re-entir public life as member for Edinburgh. Through-
out his career he maintained his unswerving hdclitv to his party, taking an
active share in all measures of importanc and h.'ilding at dihVrcnt times
subordinate offices in the Whig Cabinets. His outspoken opposition, how-
jo ever, to the views of his constituents on some religious questions cost him
his seat in 1847. With this event his political c.^i-er really closed for
although the electors of Edinburgh subswiuci-tly returned him at their
own expense, and without putting him to the trouble of a canvass, he took
little part in the business of the House, v.iihdrawing finally in 1X56 His
,5 fame was now (irmly established, and honors came thick upon him. In
1S57, in addition to foreign distinctions, he was created a peer of (ireat
Britain under the title of Baron Macaulay of Kothley— the first literarv
man to receive such a distinction. But he did not long enjoy the dignity,
for the extraordinary labor and excitement of his previous life had alreadv
^o begun to tell upon his health, and his death in 1859, though sudden, was
not unexpected by his friends.
PRINCIPAI. Works.— Macaulay s first great literary succees was the
article on Milton, which appeared in the E,li>,l„irfr>, Rcviac, August, 1825
He had, however, already ilistinguished himself, in 18.3 < and 18-4 by con
45 tributions to Kni^rht's Quarterly Ma<^u,ziuc. Much of the earlier results of
his historical investigations appeared at various dates as articles in Jeffrey's
famous Review, some of them having been written during his resilience
in India. A selection of these was published in a collected form in 184^
under the title of Critical ami Histornal Essays. The work displav^
50 the author's wide range of knowledge, powers of illustration, and pains
taking cate as a writer. Macaulay •■ is most able and striking in his
historical articles, which present pictures of the times of which he
treats, with portraits of the principal actors, and comparisons and con-
trasts drawn from contemporary events and characters in other coun-
55 tries." But his purely literary essays are also of high value. History
of Enslaml from the Accession of James II: Of this, his greatest work the
first two volumes appeared in 1849, and the second two in 1855 Part of
the fifth, bringing the History down to the general elections of 1701 was
not published till after the authors death. The success of the work was
60 unprecedentedly great. In it he develops his theory of history-liis belief
.n the advantage of greater scenical interest accordingly, he " intersperses
the details, which are the charms of historical romances." Nor " should we
have to look for the wars and votes of the Puritans in Clarendon, and for
their phraseology in Old Mortality; for one half of King James in Hume
65 and for the other half in the Fortunes of Nigel." While writing the Kis!
tory, Macaulay turned aside for a time to contribute to the Encychpcedia
MACAULAY
}^5
nrUannka some bioRraphies which ht- had sketclir.l more c.r Icsscrudrly in
his 1-ssavs These works are carefully linishetl, and arc by many re^arde.!
-.stho'finest specimens of the authors style. Tlu I.,ns of Aua.ut Ro,„.
;,S4 A \n attempt to give a poetical form to Niebul'.rs theory that the early 7°
histJrv of Rome, as narrate.l by I.ivy. is founded on legends conta.ne.l in
old ballads about mythical persi.ns and events. " Identifying himself with
the nlobeians and tribunes, he makes them chant the martial stones of
Horatius Codes, the battle of Lake KegiUus, the .leath of Virgiiua. and the
nroiihecv of Capys. The style is homely, abrupt, an.l energetic, carrying 75
us dong like the exciting narratives of Scott, and presenting brief but
striking pictures (,f local scenery and manners." besides his lays, he wrote
Ihe follmving spirited ballads :-r;,.- Battle of Naschy ; Ivry. a Song of the
Huguenots; and Th^ Arnuuhi. a Fragment.
Critical -Macaulay possessed talents of unusual versatility. Besides 80
itfiining high eminence as a critic, poet, essayist, an<l historian, he made
his mark as a jurist, a legislator, and an ..rator. His memory was extra-
ordinarily retentive. To it we owe his fondness for details and the opulence
of his illustrations. To his power of realizing the past, we owe his skill in
historical description and the delineation of character. His style is re- 85
mirkable for its incomparable lucidity; its lively arrays of concrete par-
ticulars its variety and purity of expression ; its sudden, sharp surprises,
its constant plav of antithesis and frequent use of climax ; its rapid move-
ment and sparkling, dazzling animation Hut while his style ,s perspicuous,
r.s sometimes not precise, and his fondness for balance and antithesis ^
occasionally betrays him into extravagance and exaggeration. H';: ^-^=^^"-
lary is copious; his sentences are generally short, abrupt, ami light, but
the rhythm is fluent and the cadences full and harmonious. 1 he splendor
of his imagery has justly been the theme of unstinted praise : it is d.u no
Ls to the vastness and variety of his knowledge than to the brilliancy o .5
his talents. Still-life he seldom describes, but he revels in the rush and
roar " of the world of action. He ,s never more in his element Ihan when
he paints in vivid colors some gorgeous pageant, some angry mob. He
was essentially a controversialist. When he makes a statement he feels
lH,und to explain or to prove it, and he is at his best when ^^^^^'^^^^J^ '-
fancied objections or demolishing the arguments of some real '^^^^^^^
Pathos his style forbade; wit and humor in their highest forms he does not
possess; but in broad and scathing ridicule he has no superior. !• or clear-
ness purity, and strength, Macaulay s style is a model, but, while v^e
imitate its excellences, we should avoid its excesses. «°5
iJt?!^H^p
si.t^Wi^i** mv*" -ii.-- ;.-«,«.
Hi
'I: 1
til'
326
ADl'ANCI-D READER.
IMPEACHMKNT OF VVAKKKN HASTINGS.
I''ioni the " Essays."
In the menntimc, the preparations for the trial had pro-
ceeded rapidly; and on the 13th of Februarv, 17SH the
s.ttin-s of the court commenced. There have been spectacles
more dazzhn^r to the e\e, more K' rj-eous with jewelry and
5 cloth of ^rold, more attractive to grown-up children, thaii that
which was then exhibited at Westmmster ; but perhaps there
never was a spectacle so well ealrulated to strike a hi-hlv
cultivated, a reflecting, an imaginative mind. All the varbus
kinds of interest which belong to the near and to the distant
•o to the present and to the past, were collected on one spot, and
in one hour. All the talents and all the accomplishments
which are developfnl by liberty and civilization were now dis-
played, with every adxantage that could be derived both
from co-operation and from contrast. Every step in the
'5 proceedings carried the mind either backward, through many
troubled centuries, to the days when the foundations of our
constitution were laid, or far away, over boundless seas and
deserts, to dusky nations living under strange stars, worship-
pmg strange go<ls, and writing strange characters from right
.0 to left. he High Court of Parliament was to sit, according
to forms handed down from the days of the Plantagenets, on
an Englishman accused of exercising tyrannv over the lord
of the holy city of Benares, and over the ladies of the princely
house of Oude, ^
Literary. — Givi' an account of
the career and character of Warren
Hastings. (See Cireen s Shorf His-
tory of th, English PiopU, Chap X
Sections 1 1 and HI) Note through-
out the selection the balanced struc-
ture of the sentences (u, U., i, c)
frequent Antithesis (12, IV., 8), occa-
sional climactic structure (i.:, IV.,
ii), and the animation of the stvle
(12, II., I, A). ^
1-24. What is the leading thought
in this paragraph ? Apply here and
throughout the selection the rules
given in (ij, HI ) What is the pre-
vailing type of sentence? (12, H.,
3-1 1. Observe the balanced struc-
ture. Note that in 1. 14 it is pointed
by the use of words beginning with
the same letters.
M-p'o. Every— left. Note the use
of Balance a.ssociated with Kpizouxis
(12, IV., 20.) Observe also that this
sentence excites a curiosity which is
gratified in the next. See Critical
estimate, 1. 99.
W < \
MACAU LAY.
327
The place was worthy of such a iiial. It was the ^acal .,
1, ill of Wilham Kufus, the hall which had tcsoMiHlcl with
icclamations at the iiuiUK'uration of thirty kin^^'s, the hall
which had witnessed the just sentence ot Uacon and tlu- just
absolution of Soniers. the hall where tlu- clu.iuencc ol Strallord
hid for a moment awed and nu-lted a victorious party m- ,0
n'uncd with |ust resentment, the hall where Chark-s had
,onfronted the lli^di Court of Justice with the placid courauc
which has half redeemed his fame. NeiHur military nor civil
pomp was wanting. The avenues weiv lined with ^ae.Kul.ers.
rhe streets were kept clear by cavalry, riu- pr.rs rob.d in ,5
.old and ermine, were marshaled by the heral.ls under garter
r<,n-at-arms. The judf;es. in their vestments of state attended
10 -ave advice on points of law. Near a luin.lred ami seventy
lords three-fourths of the Upper Mouse, walked m solemn
order from their usual place of assemblinj, to t^ie tribunal .0
The lon,^ procession was closed by the Duke ot Norlolk. earl
marshal of the realm, by the Kf^^at diK.iitanes. a.ul by the
bvothers and sons of the king. Last of all came the I rmce
of Wales, conspicuous bv his fine person and iioble bearm^j.
The L'ray old walls were hanf^ with scarlet. 1 he Ion- gal- 45
leries were crowded by an audience such as has rarely
excited the fears or the emulation of an orator. I lere were
gathered together, from all parts of a great, free, enlightened
and prosperous empire, grace and female loveliness, wit and
-5 ,'/ seq. Observe the means used
bv the author to kindle the imaRina-
lion anil to develop the truth of the
leading sentence of the paragraph.
25.33. Why is " the hall " rei ated ?
Whv not place last " the hall— kings,"
11 2(>-27? See (ij, 11., I, 3) ^o'"-
nient on the historical references.
What is Macanlay's estimate of King
iMiarles?
What characteristics of the author
are here displayed ?
33-80. Note that this is the author^s
characteristic abrupt style. What is
Its effect? Why not omit "noble,
1. 44.
45. The gray scarlet. Comnu^nt
on the introduction of tliis statement.
(12, III , 4 ) Note that we have; here
one of the authors mannerisms.
47-50. Observe the; author s fond-
11, b5-b9, Commenl on th, hUtoti- 1 to ,h. chatac r s.,c ,x.rsp,cu,ly
cal and the biographk.-.l ref..rence.. 1 the author s htj le.
328
ADVANCED READER.
: •
'I I
50 learning, the representatives of every science and of every ai i
There were seated round the queen the fair-haired yonn-
daughters of the house of Jkunswick. There the ambassadors
ot great kings and commonwealths gazed with achniration on
a spectacle which no other country in the world could preseiu
55 There Siddons, in tiie prime of her majestic beauty, looked
with emotion on a scene surpassing all the imitations of the
stage. There the historian of the Roman Empire thought ot
the days when Cicero pleaded the cause of Sicily against
Verres, and when, before a senate which still retained somi>
6" show of freedom, Tacitus thundered against the oppressor of
Africa. There were seen, side by side, the greatest painter and
the greatest scholar of the age. The spectacle had allured
Reynolds from that easel which has preserved to us the
thou .'htful foreheads of so many writers and statesmen, and
•^ < ■;: -weet smiles of so many noble matrons. It had induced
Patr to suspend his labors in that dark and profound mine
tr-ir, which he had extracted a vast treasure of erudition a
treasure too often buried in the earth, too often paraded with
mjudicious and inelegant ostentation, but still precious
70 massive, and splendid. There appeared the voluptuous charms
of her to whom the heir of the throne had in secret plicrhted
his faith. There too was she, the beautiful mother of a beau-
tiful race, the St. Cecilia whose delicate features, lighted up
by love and music, art has rescued from the common decay
75 There were the members of that brilliant society which"
quoted, criticised, and exchanged repartees, under the rich
peacock-hangings of Mrs. Montague. And there the ladies-
whose lips, more persuasive than those of Fox himself, had
carried the Westminster election against palace and treasury
80 —shone round Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire
The sergeants made proclamation. Hastings advanced to
the bar and bent his knee. The culprit was indeed not
unworthy of that great presence. He had ruled an extensive
and populous country, had made laws and treaties, had sent
85 forth armies, had set up and pulled down princes. And in
If?"
style.""' '"'' ^^'^'■''^ ^^^ Animated I 82. Note the Litotes.
(12, IV.,
MAC A VI. AY
329
')5
h.. high place he had so borne lu.nself. that all had fear.,
n. that most had loved him. a,ul that hatred 't-'f could
.lenv him no title to glory, except virtue. He lonkrd hke .
„eat man. and .lot like a b vd man. .\ person su.all .ind
: iated. yet dern-m. di, fro.n a carriage wh.eh wh.le .
\, indicated deference to tlie court, uulica ed also ha .itnal
tl possession and self-respect ; a high and intelleetu a torc-
u d; a brow pensive, but not gloomy, a mouth ol mllexible
ecision; a face pale and worn, but serene, on which was
r ten, as legibly as under the picture m the council chamber
' icutta, Mens .<iua in a.l.n: such was the aspect with
whic the great Proconsul presented himse 1 to his judges,
nlnsel accompanied him. men all of -hom were a er-
ward raised by their talents and learning to the ugliest po ts
Ttheir profession-the bold and strong-mimh-d Law. after- .^
vanls Chief Justice of the Kings Bench; the more humane
Ind eloquent Dallas, afterwards Chief Justice of the Con.mon
p"eas- and Plomer, who, near twenty years later successfully
conducted in the same high court the defenc<> of Lord Mel-
vdt and subsequently became Vice-Chancellor and Master .0.
'^mu ndthir the culprit nor his advocates attracted so much
notice as the accusers. In the midst of the blaze of r d
drapery, a space had been fitted up with green benches and
ab Is for the commors. The managers, with Burke at their -o
head, appeared in full dress. The collectors of gossip did no
fail to remark that even Fox, generally so regardless oh.
appearance, had paid to the illustrious tribunal the c pli -
n ent of wearing a bag and sword. Pitt had refused to Ik
one of the conductors of the impeachment; and hi com-.,
manding, copious, and sonorous eloquence was wanting t.,
That great muster of various talents. Age and blindness had
unfitted Lord North for the duties of a public prosecutor ;
and his friends were left without the help of his excellent
„ , 1 -1 '„Acrc«^ Mnte 107-108. Note the mode of Transi-
88-97. He looked— judges. Note : 107 lu . ^
the use of Antithesis in this descnp- j t.on. (... lU^^ j^p,,,hment.
Z. Show theaptnessofthe epithet! What w^Pitt^-ttitudeo. i,e,ucs-
.■I'Joconsul.- ,tion of the trial.
MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART
(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)
1.0
I.I
1.25
1*5
■ 56
Hi
US
[ 2.8
3.2
3.6
1^
1.4
1 2.5
2.2
2.0
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nc
1653 East Main Street
Rochester, New York 14609 USA
(716) 482 -0300 -Phone
(7)6) 288 -5989 -Fox
. I
i. !
is n
33<^
ADVA NCED RE A DER.
I20 sense, his tact, and his urbanity. But, in spite of tlie absence
of tliese two distinj,aiished members of the Lower House,
the box in wliicli the managers stood contained an array of
speakers such as perliaps had not apjieared together since
the great ago of Athenian eloquence. There were Fox and
'=^5 Sheridan, the Enghsh Demostlienes and the Enghsli Hype-
rides. There was ]3urke, ignorant, indeed, or neghgent, of
the art of adapting his reasonings and his style to the capacity
and taste of his hearers, but in amplitude of comprehension
and richness of imagination superior to every orator, ancient
130 or modern. There, with eyes reverentially fixed on Burke,
appeared the finest gentleman of the age, his form developed
by every manly exercise, his face beaming with intelligence
and spirit, the ingenuous, the chivalrous, the high-souled
Windham. Nor, though surrounded by such men, did the
13s youngest manager pass unnoticed. At an age when most of
those who distinguish themselves in life are still contending
for prizes and fellowships at college, he had won for himself a
conspicuous place in Parliament. No advantage of fortune or
connection was wanting tliat could set off to the height his
140 splendid talents and his unblemished honor. At twenty-three
he had been thought worthy to be ranked with the veteran
statesmen who appeared as the delegates of the British
Commons at the bar of the British nobility. All who stood
at that bar, save him alone, are gone,— culprit, advocates,
MS accusers. To the generation which is now in the vigor of life
he is the sole representative of a great age which has passed
away. But those who, within the last ten years, have listened
with delight, till the morning sun shone on the tapestries of
the House of Lords, to the lofty and animated eloquence of
ISO Charles, Earl Grey, are able to form some estimate of the
powers of a race of men among ^bom he was not the
foremost.
iipy
J.rT'''' ^T ^}^ *f"^«"c>' to Hy- case of the Antonomasia. (12, IV.,
perbole, and the fondness for strong 19.)
adjectives. Note also throughout
' selection that the balanced struc- T,r.T,. r>Ko u .u
ture increases these tendencies. nnnif^^.^ Observe how the author
,- r, , ■ .^ r . '^Pphcs the principle of Suspense.
124-12O. E.xplam the force in each Cf. also 11 134-15-'
MACAU LAY
331
The charj^e. and the answers of Hastin^'s Nvne fust read
Tl^ erem^n- occupied tno whole days, and -as rendeun
U.SS tedious than it would otherw.se have been '>, '^-' ^ -'
\ : . r^( r \-.T»'i->f>r the clerk o tliev^ouii, a
\nirpand nist emphasis ot Cow per, un ni^in.
,ear e It.on of the a.ni.ble poet. On .he tl,.„l day Uurk.
o" Four sitti„Ks were occupied l>y 1h. <.p.;".»i-' H" ■•
vhd, was intended to be a Kenetal inttodneuon to a 1 .1,.
a'4, Witb an ex„l,crance of tlu>n«lu and a splendo o „.
, ction whicl, more than satisfied .i,e highly raised expectatu.n
l^Z\i.nco. he described the character a,ul n.stttuCons
le nadves of India, recounted the circn.nstances tn wh h
e "s.rtic empire of Britain had originated, and set forth the
.tUmion of'the Cotnpany a.Kl of the ^'^f^^^;:':;^ "'
Having thns atten.pted to commmncatc to h,s Ite. trs , n
„f F.,^tern society as viviil as that which existed in his
::rmitd he proTeeded to arraign the administration of
Hastin 's as sysfematicaUy conchicted in .lefi.ince ol ii.ora . ty
,„d ibhc law. The energy and pathos ot the great orator ,:=.
eoed expressions of unwonted admiration from the stern
Uote" ;::: handed round ; '.hysterica, sobs and screain. we.
heard; and Mrs, Sl-idan was^ car ed o. t 1 , fi-.^ ^^^^
IpnfTth the orator concluded. Kaism^ nis ^oi^c
lengtn me oiai , , i .> Thprefore said he, " hath
r;r"l cLTdenrrr-ord^rtrlr'the commons of
■^r Bnlain^ that I i-Peat W-;^ "a-- "^'tf
„imes an-l -',*--'' ■ p ; Jnt !2se trust he has ...
hSra^er T np"ach him in the name of the Eng.ish nation
wS ancient honor he has sullied. I impeach him n, the
,S..„. Observe the ^n,,^'' J^^^^^^'^' t"'"^''
and the Climax, . '"
f.:
l'
I
4?
332
ADVANCED READER.
name of the people of India, whose rights he has troddc
under foot, and whose country he has turned into a desert .
190 Lastly, in the name of human nature itself, in the name (•
both sexes, in the name of every age, in the name of ever\
rank, I impeach the common enemy and oppressor of all."
1. Refer to the selection and discuss the peculiarities of Macaulay >
style, under the following heads;— Vocabulary, Construction of Sentences
and Paragraphs, Figures of Speech, Number and Order of Words [xi.
I. -VI.); Intellectual and Emotional Qualities and Elegancies (13, I., II,,
and III.) Classify his style. (11, I.-V.)
2. Make a list, with examples, of the qualities of Macaulay's style which
deserve imitation, and of the defects which should be avoided.
3. Refer to Critical estimate, p. 325, and show to what extent the state-
ments therein are exemplified.
Composition.
I. Make a brief synopsis of the leading topics in the Text.
II. Expand these into a composition, prefacing it with a sketch of
Warren Hastings' Indian career, and adding an account of the result of
the trial.
Mr ■ • i^
ilifJjLi!!;
s ri
WORDSWORTH.
his tastes, he spent most of h.s t^nic ream K ^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^j^^ ^
Fielding, and Swift. After ^-^^f'^^l^^^^ ,,,, vacations. Like
continent, where h« ^ad previous y pent o^^^^^^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^,^
most of the poetical "^^"^f^/'^ *'"'""'„ t,,en going on in I'rance, look-
enthusiastically the cause o the l^-°f "^^jj''^^,^,,,' ,,, instrumentality.
.ng forward to the -^-^"getro; imp^^^^^^ of th-- nation had been ..
Later on, however, when the t.ene'-ou i , ^^ppor d .he war agamst
crushed by ^^^^^^^^^^l^^^rJ^^^^^^ ^^" ^^ ^^T. '"
France as warmly as ^^^ ll^j^; J^'^^^ ^,,i,en h^
England-for the Reign of Terror had tin distasteful to
choose a profession; but ^^^^^^-/"^Jtll no distrust, not only of -s
him. His mind^ too, was unsettl^ . He dl^^^^^^ ^.^^ ^^^^ ^^^
nations, but of himself. The ^rst tni k j presence of his
of human affection, and that came to 1^"" ^^y^ '^.J^^^ lovelinesses
sister.' She opened his eyes to f-^J^J^^^.^^^^Trnesses for human
formerly unnoticed, his heart ^^j^^^y'^Pf^^'^';; legacy from a friend ..
.Hings hitherto uncared for." F°'^^""^^^^>:, "^^-f^ t,^. he 4ve himself up
placed him above want, and, in company with his si.tci , .a
Si^^apissi»'f5*ssv*^-S*«i^
334
ADVANCED READER.
Iff'
u
i I
wholly „ poefcal composition. After a short residence in Dorsetshire h
removed .„ ^^^- to Alfoxden. near Xether-Stowev, in S,,mersetshire uhe '
.s ri:^::;' "" ^^^ T: """'• ''''^"^ ^"'•^••'^'^^ Wordsworth form ^a "hi t^'!
=5 fr.end h.p and the two poets wrote occasionallv in conjunction Af er
v.s,t of a few n.onths to Ciermany in r;,>S, Wordsworti set 1 1 at Gr s'
nere, ,n WestnKndand, where he lived ei«ht years, marrvin, in iSo u ■
Hdy whom he describes in She .•as „ P,u,nL ./ /^.//i/ 'ro.n , '
to i,Si4, when the Excursion was publislied, his poetic ficuhwr ' '
3o pr,me. On many of the productions of this period t^:rer:s^ T:Z:^^
gleam-sometlunK of •• the li,du that never was on sea or land ' wh, ,
only htfully present in his later worKs, After ZV^ ^^ ^^
resulence, he took up his abode at Kydal Mount, where he s ent tl
ofhce of Distributor of ^amp^ I l^e Co^ u-X;^: nl" T !'"^'f '
18,3; on the death of SontlJy, he was crated' Pc^t^^^' 'm^^ ^
by the Poet^nd a'^inc^'^d Jh^: :^::;;,'^t" '"'^^'^^'"^'
Westmorelnnd T/, . « / -,, '^"^ '" '"'' mountains of
«a» a ::,:", a?; p :;''";;:■:„, 3 ^<'"-'>^ t"' r' '""-" """■
111 . t'".>- ^vonisuortti is a pure v subiective noet li,>
r^l a iHtv to tt """, "V"'"- '"''^^'^^ ^'''^"^^^•''- '"^'^-^-' to test the
acceptability to the general reader, of the author's th^nrv ,.( r. .
lion, an'l pure eloquent no, eollT;" P'^'r""^™"""™". d»crip.
ra.,v. poe., d.a„„g .i.H .He .„i„ „, a n.2'::Z^^Sr^^
WORDSWORTH.
335
85
ri < r> ;; i,<,,-,\ ■ This ncu'iii ill wliiih hi' ranu's
oftheNortn in 15 -* ^as ereetcl uith lau^;hu-r and rulunU'.
C tl " vori ■ K ,r h„ min.l on ccr,M„ class., .,t subjcC, or a, ,■ ,„>.„„„■,.. '
:;^^:S1 1;:;-™:. ;-':"- '"'"""'7" '^ ":;r!"(:;:;,;::'',^; 'r,: .
7}(<r(/( «/ Calciis, and r/c'^'i Rnvui^us.
culininalcd the reaction aRainst the •""'"-■=' \,' „„. .-real literary
ferent from the diction of prose, ^he sentimen f p^> O .a ^^^^^^
hke a stage dress, and its language --^ -^, ' /^ ^^ ^^^ ,,,„,, i,
around us. ^Vords^vorth•s mission wa. '"^^ang. .d^ t. 1 ^^^ ,^^^^
that there is no essential difterence betxveen the aiv ag _^^^ _^
r .,r.fi jint nnftrv nrefcrs the oruin.ir) 1^11^,11.1^'^
rHr:iiru::rr».^"oL^,...n..cr..^
emotion. This theory, however, he seldom practised,
his poetic diction fitted ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^ ,.,,^,^ ^^^y^^.^^^
liitruth to Nature inissinKtrutli to Art."
But Wordsworth uniformly relied on the simple ^^^-^^/^^;Zr^::, '"^
There is, he affirms, a soul in all the worlds-
" A presence tliat disturbs me with tlie )oy,
Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime
Of sometbinn far more .leeply interlused,
Whose dwclUnn is the linht of setting suns,
Anil the round ocean and the hvinn air.
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man :
A motion and a spirit tlial impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought.
And rolls throuch all tilings."
ThU presence he identifies with the living spirit of God. According
p';Lrr Sh\irp s of his meaning. Nature, though mantfe
110
336
ADVANCED READER.
%
il
ng serf ,n various forms, .s pervaded by a unity of life and power, bindin.
t together mto one hv.ng whole, and possessing an influence which streams
through and stimulates man's life-a spirit itself invisible, though it speaks
"o through visible forms. Its calmness stills and refreshes man ; its sublfmh y
raises his spirit to noble and energetic thoughts; and its tenderness, striv-
ing in the largest and loftiest things, condescends to the lowest, and is in
the humblest w-orm and weed as much as in the great movements of' the
elemen s and of the stars. Its stability and order, too. satisfy his intellect
-3 and calm his soul. Our mind, receiving these impre;sions,'dds to i™
.ts own thoughts and feelings, and this union produces the harmony he
conceives to exist between Nature and mankind. Pope's great theme hid
been the social life of the city-" the varying vanities. frL every pari '
that shift the moving toy-shop of the heart." Wordsworth, whose svm-
130 pathies had been stimulated by the political convulsions he had witnessed
and whose heart had been humanized and softened by his sister's loving
care, found the objects of his .study among the poor and the humble For
him "the common growth of mother earth" sufficed-" her humblest mirth
and tears." His theme is the permanent and nobler feelings of our com-
^°" "^j^^^r^h^ ^'""ti""^ ^hat swell the heart of both peer and peasant
He taught his countrymen to discern in the humblest and most unexpected
forms what they had formerly looked for in other spheres. (See Prim of
hug L,t., pp. 154.155.) Wordsworth is a poet of reflection and contem-
plation. Of true dramatic or epic power, he had none. Many have sur-
Mo passed him m mere description of Nature; but. as her interpreter, he took
the step which Chaucer and Shakespeare never took-.'io explain the
virtue which resides in the symbol, to describe objects as they affect human
hearts, and to show how the inflowing world is a material image through
which the sovereign mind holds intercourse with man." Coleridee has
.45 pointed out the varied excellencies of Wordsworth's poetry; the depth of
his feeling; the unfailing certainty of his eye; his unfaltering tmth- the
purity, beauty, and majesty of his language; the force, originaliiv fresh-
ness, and profundity of his thoughts; and the vividness and richness of his
imagination-" nearest of all modern writers to Shakespeare and Milton
150 yet in a kind perfectly unborrowed and his own." But while he has mea'
sured his friend's greatness. Coleridge has also discerned his faults-his
inequality of style; his too great fondness for minute details; and the occa-
sional disproportion between his language and his feeling. Humor, it may
be added he did not possess, and of the stronger passions he has shown few
'55 traces^ As to his rank in our literary history, opinions are divided. With
some he stands fifth in the roll of our greatest writers: others deny this
claim. Popularity his style forbids; but, with the thoughtful his reign is
secure. He "pipes a simple song for thinkinff hearts : " the earnest student
of his works will feel that the poet has accomplished the purpose of his life •
.60 - • To console the afflicted, to add sunshine to daylight by making the happy
happier ; to teach the young and the gracious of every age to see. to think
and to feel. and. therefore, to become more actively and securely virtuous ■'
ii
. I i i (
WOHDSWORrH.
557
ODK.
lO
>5
INTIMATIONS CF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF KARI.V CMU.nHOon.
iNTRODUCTioN.-VVorclsworth has chosen as th« motto of his Ode the
I, St three lines of the f..llowinK poem -a uoem in which he states
liierty an<l characteristically the foundation oi the leadiiiK' iloctrines of his
philosophy ;- _ ^^^ |^^^^_^ 1^ ^^_^ ^^^^ ^^,,^^,_^ , ,,^,,^^,,,,
A i;iiiilii>w ill •'"' ^l^y ■
So was il wlicn my lili- Ikh.ih
So is it now I .iin :i mni ;
So bi! it wluii 1 shall «row old,
Or let iiif ilif !
The chiltl is t,.tlicr ot the man ;
And I could wish my days to hv
Bound each to each by natural piety.
••The child is father of the man": throiiK'h the recollections and ol.serva-
tioiL of or infancy we may, therefore, hope to trace our spiritual relat.on-
sWpin it most marked manifestations. On his own vHuH.u-nioru.s a id
U e^results of his unusually keen powers of introspection, Wordsw. r 1, s
nsed a conclusion which may be re-arded as the c.rner-stone of h s
t^hifosonhical system. In brief, the halo of pure emotion which invests
orchTdish years, and the close connection of this emotion with external „.
nature t.^which it gives a " dream-like vividness and splendor ' lu; regards
!s presumptive evidence of the existence of the soul prior to birth. 1 his
tL Platonic doctrine of Pre-natal life, is the main idea of his magnihcent
vric To use the words of Mr. F. W. H. Myers, one of the exponents o
ICdsworth-s philosophy. - the hild's soul has existed 1- ;'- ' f "f -> ^^
the body-has e.xisted in a wo. . .uperior to ours, but conmicte.l by th e
iu^manLe of the same pervading s .irit (see Critical estimau. FT^ 3, 5-3^
11 IOVI27 ) with the material universe before our eyes. 1 he child bc!,-iis
V Selng his material universe strange to him. Hut he sees in it, as i
7ere vSat he has been accustome.l to see ; he discerns in it Us l<'"f-'P ^ ^ 30
he spiritual world which he dimly remembers ; it is to him 'an unsul stantial
fafrv palace '-a scene at once brighter and more unreal than it will appear
n Ss^eyes when he has become acclimatized to earth. And even when the
freshness of insight has passed away, it occasionally happens .vU sights or
ounds of unusual beauty or carrying deep assoc,ations--a ra.nl)ow (s- 35
sZm) a cuckoo's cay, or sunset of extraordinary splendor-wil renew for
- whil'e thiTsense of vision and nearness to the spiritual worhl-a sense
ihich never loses its reality, though with advancing years its presence
grows briefer and more rare." Wordsworth ^^>^^^^' •.'f' ^^^^^
conception of a pre-natal existence is too shadowy a notion to be rtc om- ,0
mended to faith^as more than an element in our instincts o immortality^
According to Mr. Matthew Arnold. " this idea, of undeniable beau y as a
uKv of fancy has itself not the character of poetic truth of the best kind ,
ft has no real solidity. The instinct of delight in Nature and her beauty
L' noXibt extrao/dinary strength in ^ordsw-.^th himse as y h.hb
But to say that universally this instinct is mighty in ^h 1 . and ^cids
to die away afterwards, is to say what is extremely f " ' ^ ' . i!^^^;;^^,
people-perhaps in the majority of educated Pe'-«o"«~^he lo e of na urc is
nrarlv itrio^rrentiblp at ten vears old. but strong and operatue at thirty.
But be This as U may; the Ode is one of the most ennobling contributions 50
our literature has ever received.
45
ISMM
338
ADVANCED READER.
(I '■
IS
ODE,
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream.
The earth, and every common sight.
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore: —
Turn whereso'er I may,
By niglil or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see j more.
The Rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the Rose,
The Moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare:
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair ;
Literary. — Explain clearly the
poem quoted on p. 337. What does
the author mean by ' ' natural piety " ?
Observe throughout the Ode ihe no-
bility of the thoughts, the harmonious
melody of the language, and the
changes in the metre to suit the varia-
tions of the poet's mood. State
briefly, as the literary analysis pro-
ceeds, the main thought in each
stanza, and its connection with what
has preceded. Point out the appro-
priateness of the time of the day and
of the year at which the poet is
supposed to give utterance to his
thoughts. Describe his mood in the
opening stanzas of the Ode.
I . There was a time. What time
is referred to ? See Introductory, p.
337, 11. 14-22 and 29-33.
4-5 Apparelled— dream. Explain
clearly, with especial reference to
"celestial light " and "dream." Quote
Wordsworth's description of the sen-
sations of his own childhood.
6. of yore. In what sense used ?
9. What " things " are meant ?
10-16. The Rainbow— birth. Ob-
serve the beauty of the description.
Note that the objects mentioned here
were with Wordsworth favorite sub-
jects of description and contempla-
tion. See poem quoted on p. 337.
State and apply in this passage his
view of Nature. See Critical com-
ments, p. 335, 11. 104-127.
1-18. Express in one sentence in
prose the meaning of these stanzas.
Elocutionary,— I. Commence with pure tone of reflection, and moder-
ate time and force. 2. Emphasize "every."
6-9. Note the contrasted words.
10 ct scq. Note the happy , joyous thoughts. What kind of time is required ?
12. Pause after " Moon " ; connect this line closely with the one following.
Observe throughout the poem, as here, the frequent necessity for ignoring
the final verse pause.
WORDSWOKTH.
339
J more.
lat sense used ?
are meant ?
on, and moder-
ao
»S
30
The sunshine is a glorious birth,
But yet I know, where't.'r 1 K'>.
That tliere hath passed away a glory from the eattli.
Now, while the birc'.s thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound.
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong :
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the Echoes through the mountauis throng,
The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay ;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every Beast keep holiday; —
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy 1
Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make ; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival.
My head hath its coronal.
The fulness of your bliss, I feel— I feel it all.
Oh evil day! if I were sullen
.,,, FxDlain "alone" andment. Explain "fields of sleep/*
acceleration of the metrical move-ls-on.
?s
40
18 Do not ctt-iphasize "there.- Connect closely "there-glory," rnd
r: slTe; ?!Z" a9-33. Gay and sprightly tone. 33. Loud force.
I
Ji
\i
J40
ADVAXCEI) KEADER.
t i
II \'
45
50
55
60
65
While IC.'iith lu-rsflf is adorniiif^,
'I'liis sweet May-nioniiiif;.
And the Children nvv. culling
On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and v.ide,
Fresh flowers; whi'e the snn shines warm,
And the liabe leaps up on his Mother's arm : —
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
— But there's a Tree, of many, one,
A sinpfle Field which I have looked upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The Pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
Our birth is but a sleep, and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its settinir.
And-cometh from afar:
Not in entire for^etTulness,
And not in utter nakedness.
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy !
44- Earth— adorning:. Is this I'er-
sonification ? What is Wordsworth's
conception of Nature ? Parse " her-
self."
50. And the Babe— arm. Apply
here Wordsworth's philosophy. See
Introductory, 11. 14-22 and 29-33.
51. Note that here we have the
culmination of the poet's ecstasy,
followed by a pause. Describe the
change in his mood that follows, and
trace the course of his meditations
in 11. 52-85.
I 52-58. See 11. r-i8.
1 59. Account for the somewhat
abrupt transition, and explain clearly
the force of "a sleep" and "a for-
getting."
59-77- Observe the beauty of dic-
tion and the nobility of thought in
this stanza. Refer to Introductory
remarks, p. 337, and explain clearly
each line in this passage. Note
especially the force of "east," 1. 72,
and of "Nature's Priest," 1. 73!
Give Wordsworth's other synonyms
for "vision splendid," 1. 74.
i-r
52 Notice the change in .sentiment, and the consequent change in time
and force. 59. Pure tone of reflection, moderate force and time.
■ I \
W'OKDSW'Olil'll
3+''
70
TJ
80
85
Shades of the prison-house be^^iii to close
Upon the i^'rowin^' H<>y,
But he beholds the li«lU. :iiul wlu-ncc it lli)ws,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther froir. the east
Must travel, still is Nature s Triest. .
And by the vision sj^lendid
Is on his way attended;
At lenf^'th the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of connnon day.
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of lier own ;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural knid.
And, even w'th somethinf,' of a Mothers nund.
And no unworthy aim,
The homely Nurse doth all she can
To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man,
Forf^et the j^dories he hath known.
And that imperial i.alace whence he came.
Behold the Child among hi^; new-born blisses,
A six years' Darling of a pigmy size !
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies.
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses.
With light upon him from his father's eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart.
Some fragment from his dream of human life.
Shaped by himself with newly-learned art ;
A wedding or a festival, .
A mourning or a funeral ;
And this hath nov/ his heart,
-rSS. Addiv here again Words- 1 ted-sallies," 1. 8y; "Hght-^yesl"
.Si thS^ or^^e. Explain i 1. ^. ;,^7^ Jj^^^S'^^onl/'^i:
clearly the force of "Foster-child. , Actor, 1. loj ,
Cf with this passage the poet's re- i 105. , , , . ,i„.
presentation of Nature in 11. 25-51. 86-129. Note that the ^y to the
i meaning of these stanzas is in 11. 107-
86-108. Give the force of " Fret- i 108 and 11. 1^4-129.
75 Pause after " Is " and " on his way," to avoid sing-song.
77. Prolong the sound of " fade." 86-108. Animated tone.
90
95
i
; lil
342
ADVANCED READER.
\ \
los
tl6
"S
120
MS
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
This little Actor cons another part ;
Filling from time to time his " humorous stage "
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That Life brings with her in her equipage ;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy Soul's immensity;
Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage; thou Eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep.
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind, —
Mighty Prophet ! Seer blest !
On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave ;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave,
A Presence which is not to be put by ;
Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom, on thy being's height.
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
109-129. Describe the poet's mood.
Explain clearly the full force of the
following; — "Soul's immensity," 1.
no; "Eye among the blind," 1. 112
(cf. 11, 70-71); "deaf and silent,"
and "read'st — mind," 11. 113- 114;
"Prophet" and "Seer," 1. 115;
" Broods like the Day " (cf. 1. 67), 1.
120; "yet," 1. 122; "freedom" (cf,
1. 125) 123; "custom," 1. 128; and
" Heavy— life ! " 1. 129. Parse and
explain the phrase "on thy being's
height," 1. 123.
MUM
109-129. Pure tone, occasionally swelling into orotund; slow time.
122-123. Louder force and faster time.
110
«3S
140
WORDSWORTH. 343
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight,
\nd custom lie upon thee with a weight,
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
Oh joy ! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive !
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Pe-'^etual benediction : not indeed
Fo. -hat which is most worthy to be blest ;
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast :-
Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise ;
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings ;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realized.
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised!
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
Are yet a master light of all our seeing ;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
..6-X.9. cf. u. 67-6. andTi:7^:^:r^^ "^ir^i^^^^-
130. Describe the change in the - v-Ji^^^ description of his own sensa-
poefs feelings, and note the subse-
- ^ t :^'^:.-lr%. see „o«, p.e S,, ,. .e.
145
150
I-
U
1 Hi
g^ayaiaiuiiisiuiiliii niiiiiiiin [" 1 j 'i""
344
ADVANCED READER.
VM
>55
1 60
165
170
175
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor,
Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy !
Hence in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither.
Can in a moment travel thither.
And see the Children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young Lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound !
We in thought will join your throng.
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May !
162-168. See Introductory remarks
V- 337. 11- 33-39- Observe the gran-
deur of the thought and the wonder-
fully harmonious beauty of the dic-
tion. Paraphrase the passage, so as to
brmgout the meaning clearly. Note
that according to Wordsworth, in
supreme moments of our existence
vvhen we feel within us "gleams like
the flashings of a shield," Nature
"which is the breath of God," may
become a revealing agency into a
higher world than ours. Compare
with this passage the following lines
from "Tintern Abbey," in which he
holds that to Nature's "beauteous
lorms" man owes —
T !.■ , , . " 'hat blessed mood
In which the burden of the inysterv
In whjch the heavy and the weary weigh;
Of all this unintelligible world
n .'^vTt? ^-that serene and blessed mood,
!^^ 1^ 'u" =*ffect.ons gently lead us on,-
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
Ana even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
illu-?^' ^"'^ become a living soul •
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of jov
We see into the life of things."
169 ct scq. What are now the poet's
feelings? Note the sympathetic
changes in the metre, especially the
trochaic structure of some of the
lines.
156-157- Notice the frequent pauses required.
168. Orotund quality. 169-175. Loud force, high pitch.
. i
WORDSWORTH.
What though the radiance which was once so brij^ht
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind:
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering ;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves !
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might :
I only have relinquished one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the Brooks which down their channels fret.
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they:
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Is lovely yet ;
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober coloring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
345
180
t85
190
195
200
182-183. See poem quoted on p.
3^7.
184-187. Explain clearly the phil-
osophy of this passage. Show from ,
the poem that to the author years
brought "the philosophic mind.
Note that Wordsworth himselt has
in his poems used human sorrow to
influence his own meditative spirit,
till it becomes
" Sorrow that is not sorrow, but dt-light ;
And miserable love that is not pain
To hear of, for the ^lory that redounds
• Therefrom to human kind and what we
are."
No other poet has so tenderly dealt
with the
"wallflower scents
From out the crunihlin^; ruins ot l.illen
pride."
igi-i<)2. one delight, lor mean-
ing see 11. i-i^ and 11. 17^.-179. tor
the meaning of " more habitual, see
11. 76-S5-
197-199. The Clouds mortality.
Explain by a paraphrase.
i 200. Another race-won. Para-
1 phrase so as to show the meaning.
176. Observe the return to the prevailing tone.
i
«
i!!
346
.-/ D I 'ANCED RE A DER.
;..;io
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears;
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
'I '(
'!'5iJ''
YARROW UNVISITED.
INTRODUCTORY.-In August, 1803, WordswoFth paid his first visit to
Scotland, accompanied by his sister Dorothy, the "winsome marrow" of
the following poem. After traversing on foot the highlands of Argyll and
Perthshire they walked by Peebles to the valley of the Tweed, and -u
Cloyenford reached the spot where, if at all, they should have turned asicle
to "see the braes of Yarrow." They, however, determined, probably for
some prosaic reason to reserve the pleasure for a future day. On his return
to Grassmere, Wordsworth finished the poem which the above incident ha
suggested to his imagination. Eleven years afterwards he again visited
Scotland, and, under the guidance of the Ettrick shepherd, realized his
treasured dreams " of Yarrow's lovely dale. His feelings on this occa!
s.on are recorded in Yarrou, Visited. In 1831 he once more crossed the
Scottish border, this time to visit Sir Walter Scott "before his last go n-^
from Tweedside. On a day late in September these life-long friend^s
wandered through the wooded banks of Yarrow's silver stream, and
" Made a day of happy hours,
Their happy days recalling."
Of the three lyrics, Yarrow Unvisitcd is undoubtedly the finest. Yarrow
has been the theme of many a poet. "The very name is itself a poem
sounding wildly sweet, sad, and musical. And the place answers S a
strange fitness to the name. It is, as it were, the inner sanctuary of the
whole Scottish Border. It concentrates in itself all that is most charar
terist.c of that scenery. It is the centre of the once famous but now
vanished Forest of Ettrick, with its memories of proud huntings and
■ i^nMn^' "^^'^^^^"/'^ ^"^1 '^^ I'-^^d of Faery. Again, it is the home of some
unhappy far-off thing, some immemorial, romantic sorrow, so remote
that tradition has forgotten its incidents, yet cannot forget the imnression
of ,s sadness. Ballad after ballad comes down loaded with aXge like
wail for some sad event, made still sadder for that it befell in Yarrow!"
From Stirling Castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravelled,
Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay,
And with the Tweed had travelled ;
201-204. State the meaning of this
beautiful passage, and the Words-
worthian philosophy it embodies.
See Critical estimate, 11. 121-124 and
125-127. What does the author mean
by " Intimations of Immortality " ?
Show that the "Ode" conforms
to the definition in (4, II., 12).
Describe fully the metre of " Yar-
row Unvisited." Note that it is that
in which most of the Yarrow ballads
are cast, and that the double rhymes
allow the refrain to fall on the wild,
sweet name of Yarrow. Note also
that the poem has the simple direct-
ness and the natural freshness of the
old ballads, with an infusion of mod-
ern reflection.
i^
I»
»5
WORDSWURTH. 347
And when we came to Clovenford,
Then said my " winsome Marrow,"
" Whateer betide, we'll tvirn aside.
And see the Braes of Yarrow."
" Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town,
Who have been bnying, selhn^;.
Go back to Yarrow, 'tis their own.
Each maiden to her dwelhn^' !
On Yarrow's banks let herons feed,
Hares conch, and rabbits burrow,
But we will downward with the i weed,
Nor turn aside to Yarrow.
" There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs,
Both lying right before us ;
And Dryburgh, where with chnnmg 1 weed,
The lintwhites sing in chorus ;
There's pleasant Teviotdale-a land
Made blythe with plough and harrow :
Why throw away a needful day
To go in search of Yarrow ?
" What's Yarrow but a river bare
That glides the dark hills under ?
There are a thousand such elsewhere
As worthy of yom wonder."
-Strange Jords they seemed of slight and scorn :
My true-love sigh'd for sorrow,
And looked me in the face, to thmk
I thus could speak of Yarrow.
a O green," said I, " are Yarrow's holms.
And sweet is Yarrow flowmg !
Fair hangs the apple frae the rock,
But we will leave it growmg.
,..8. Describe the poet's mood as 1 3 ^^lo^^^^^^^^^^
;-,:-^,^^S^^^;S^n,^^^^^1^^;3-48. Descr:be the change in the
^5. Which is the emphatic word? I poet's mood.
»5
30
3S
348
ADVANCED READER.
40
O'er hilly path and open strath
We'll wander Scotland thorough ;
But, though so near, we will not turn
Into the dale of Yarrow.
45
" Let beeves and home-bred kine partake
The sweets of Burn-mill meadow ;
The swan on still Saint Mary's Lake
Float double, swan and shadow !
We will not see them ; will not go
To-day, nor yet to-morrow ;
Enough if in our hearts we know
There's such a place as Yarrow.
^';i'
I' i
y I
\mA
50
55
60
" Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown ;
It must, or we shall rue it :
W^e have a vision of our own,
Ah ! why should we undo it ?
The treasured dreams of times long past.
We'll keep them, winsome Marrow !
For when we're there, although 'tis fair,
'Twill be another Yarrow.
" If care with freezing years should come
And wandering iem but folly, —
Should we be loth to stir from home.
And yet be melancholy ;
Should life be dull, and spirits low,
'Twill soothe us in our sorrow,
That earth has something yet to show.
The bonny Holms of Yarrow! "
43-44. Note the vivid and beautiful
picture these lines conjure up.
49-56. Note the poetic beauty and
the deepar feeling of this famous
stanza. "After this ideal gleam has
for a moment broken on the poem,
' the light of common day ' again
closes in." Apply this criticism.
55-56. Explain the meaning of these
lines. Note that in his " Yarrow
Visited," Wordsworth says —
" I see— but not by sight alone.
Loved Yarrow, have I won thee ;
A ray ot fancy still survives —
Her sunshine plays upon thee."
WORDSWORTH.
SONNETS.
349
„,, Tn thP first Sonnet, Wordsworth looks on the sleeping
INTRODUCTORY^-In the first^onnc ^,_.^,„^„,,, .,,it,, f,,,ii„«s of awe
^'^^ teires TnU^e^nd. he expresses in impassioned lan.uaKO h.s
and tenderness, in ui.^- ^^,i ' „,„ of the baseness and niatenahsm of
love f<>r, Nature a- h-ef'-^^^^^ ^^, ^,„^,, ,,,,., „,,, „,s.
'""^'f ;U ext.H,^^.tion iea y^g?ven of the anthors philosophical systen.
nlf r . in ? r the nob lUy of his tone ; the keenness of his nuMUal v.Mon ;
?helSi^^n"po-er of his ^-.agination; the depth and uUensUy of h.s
feeling ; and the purity, beauty, and majesty of h.s lan«ua,;e.
-COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTKR BRIDGE.
Earth has not anything to show more fair :
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty :
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning ; silent, bare.
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky ;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep.
In his first splendor, valley, rock or hill ;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep !
The river ghdeth at his own sweet will :
Dear God ! the very hotises seem asleep ;
And all that mighty heart is lying still !
THE world's ravages.
The world is too much with us ; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers :
Little we see in Nature that is ours ;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon !
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon ;
The Winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathpred now hke sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune ;
;
H
Describe the metrical structure of
the Sonnet by reference to the Text.
Compare the poefs attitude to-
wards London, in the first, w.th his
the Sonnet by reference to the lexr ^^"^ "='^;^'^ ^^,^^^g ^^,^,c_ in the last
Test these Sonnets by the definition i att.tufie io\\arus
given in (4, H.. 4). ' ^°""^'-
« • ' ,
350
f, ■
• !
If
I;
1
HI
!<
1
f
\ c
H
•
i
:
ADVANCED READER.
It moves us not.— Great God ! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn :
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea ;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
ON THE BEACH AT CALAIS.
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free;
The holy time is quiet as a nun
Breathless with adoration ; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquillity;
The gentleness of heaven is on the sea:
Listen ! the mighty being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder everlastingly.
Dear child! <lear girl! that walkest with me here,
If thou appear'st untouched by solemn thought.
Thy nature, therefore, is not less divine:
Thou liest " in Abraham's bosom " all the year;
And worshipp'st at the temple's inner shrine,
God being with thee when we know it not.
1. Show that Wordsworth has not adhered to his theory of poetic diction
in the preceding selections. See (3, V.)
2. Illustrate from the selections the remarks in pp. 335 and 336, 11. 100 to
end, and p. 337, 11. 25-39.
3. " Wordsworth's poetry was not only a powerful, but a conscious and
systematic appeal to that craving for deep truth and reality which had
been gathering way ever since the French Revolution so terribly tore
asunder the old veils of conventionality and custom." Explain this criticism.
4. What authors represented in this volume fell in with the movement
in Literature referred to in p. 336, H- I34-I39? Describe generally
the effect of Wordsworth's doctrines on contemporary and subsequent
literature.
5. Give an account of the steps in the Reaction against the style of the
"Artificial School." (See Prim. ofEng. Lit.)
6. Memorize the "Ode."
Composition.
I. Reproduce the main thoughts in the " Ode."
II. Give an account of Wordsworth's attitude towards Nature and Man.
3tic diction
COLERIDGE.
BiOGRAPHiCAL.-Samuel Taylor Colerirtge was born at Ottery St. Mary,
in Devonsh-re. October 21st, 177- When a boy Ins appet.te for read.nK wa
extraordinary but, even in this, his pecuHar disposu.on showed itself, o
hi reading was of a desultory character. From lyyi to lyOi - attend..
h,s reading w . ,,i,ti„etion in Classics, but leaving; 5
Xut a See He b^^^^^^ an unsettled and irregular lite by enlisting in
.dragoon r'egiment, but was soon afterwards bought oft by us friends^
At first n ardent Republican, he indulged high hopes ot what the French
^^J^irt;::;^: goinjto do for mankind, ^^^^^l^^; ^^^.^^ .
being a Radical and a Unitarian, he became a Royalist and a <^^""-cn
rZ Without ambition, and with no set purpose before him he wa
XvaysTndulging in visions of what he was going to do-from ound.ng
^I? epublic's with Southey to planning an extensive series o poems^
"nee the limited quantity and the incomplete character of his work^ O.
marriage in i^ -„ he removed to Nether-Stowey, near his friend x.
,.. "^^"T' '"a n.re he wrot. the greater part of his poetry. In
;;f thr gh tht Snei of "a friend, he was enabled to go abroad^
rIsTding mainly in Germany, where he acquired a good knowledge of
I^CTi»6i. y'<fc<W^ ' ^ .
352
ADVANCED READER.
m
;}i.Mi-.
the language, literature, and philosophy of the country. On returninf,' ti>
20 England in 1.S00, he joined Southey and Wordsworth in the I.ake (^niritry .
After a brief connection with the Morning Post, and a nine months' resi-
dence at Malta as the Governor's Secretary, he found his way back to
England, where he resumed authorship and began to give lectures. But
his indolent habits, aggravated by opium-eating, prevented him from gain-
's ing more than a precarious livelihood. In 1816, leaving his wife and
family under the care of Southey, his brother-in-law, he went to London,
finding an asylum *'or the last nineteen years of his life with a surgeon
named (iillman, who had undertaken to cure him of opium-eating. Here
he wrote mere fragments, but what he failed to do in writing he made
30 up for in talking; for hither resorted admirers from all parts of the coun-
try to hear him discourse on poetry, philosophy, and kindred subjects.
Through this oral teaching his influence was far wider than through his
writings. In conversation he could express his thoughts, however subtle,
with clearness and accuracy, but writing subjected him to more labor
35 and restraint than suited his peculiar disposition. Coleridge died at
Highgate on the 25th of July, 1834.
Principal Works. — Coleridge's poems were published at various dates,
his first volume appearing in 1796; The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, in
1798; Christabel, in 1816; Syhilline Leaves, a collection of his chief poems,
40 in 1817 ; and the first really collective edition of his Poetical and Dramatic
Works in 1828. The four most famous are Christabel, an unfinished
romance, illustrating the author's theory of the connection between the
material and the spiritual world ; The Rime of the Ancient Mariner ; Kiibla
Khan, the record of a gorgeous dream and a miracle of music; and
45 Genevieve, or Love. Others of note are: — Hymn before Sunrise in the Val-
ley of Chamouni ; Ode to Prance : Ode to Dejection ; Ode to Naples ; Ode
to the Departing; Year: Frost at Midnight; Youth and Age; The Garden
of Boccaccio; Hymn to the Earth; Work zvithout Hope; and Love, Hope,
and Patience in Education. Besides these he published a Translation of
50 Schiller's Wallenstein ; Remorse, a Tragedy; and Zapoyla, a Drama. Cole-
ridge's prose works are: — Moral and Political Lectures {ijg^) ; The Friend
(1809-10, and another edition in 1818;, originally a magazine, reaching,
however, only to its twenty-seventh number ; Tjvo Lay Sermons (one in
1816 and the other in 1817) ; Biographia Literaria (1817) ; Aids to Reflec-
ts tion ; and On the Constitution of Church and State.
Critical. — Although noticeable as a pros.e writf ■■ for the profundity of
his intellect, his curious erudition, and his fine critical taste, Coleridge will
be remembered in literature as a poet, and, like Gray, as the author of a
few poems. His later life was given up to questions of criticism, religion,
60 and philosophy ; only in early manhood did he devote himself to poetry.
His genius was like the sudd .n, brief blossoming of an exotic, but its
flowers are " flowers of the rose's rank." To the morbid languor of his
nature may be attributed the dreamy poetic grace which can be felt only
m
Hi'
COLERIDGE.
353
„ .he silent submission of wonder. With rare subt ety of thought an.l
; i i, al and darin, invention, he c .nbined ex.,uisUc: dehcacy o lan««a,e, o,
' V "^^^^^^ poetic joy in everything beautiful, and a svitdnn, nv-lody of verse
U,-^t ha.u U the reader like •' an an.el's son«." Wlnle h.s best poetry ,s
mark be for perfection of execution, son.e of hi,, minor product.ons are
UfTcc. ly puerile affectation and a turbid style. Passu.nate feebn, he
hms onW .Kcasionally. but for height a.d excellence of .n,a«,nat.ve :»
twer he ranks amongst the greatest: C'olerid.e is. "of .maK-nat.on a 1
mmct ■• Like the other Lake School Poets, he uas a close and sens -
,ve observer of Nature, an ' a uarm syn.p.Uhizer with .he annual uorUl
r^r thlrn hov ^ver ht seldom, or but siit^htly, shows any moral or
': o . 2;t o :.mbUion: his poems were often wrUten. he tells us. rs
Ster the more violent emotions of sorrow, to ,ive lum l>U'asure, sd.en^
nerhan nothing else could. By both his powers and h.s weaknesses he
^.Mfitte for dramatic composition : he lacked energy; he was too
was ""h"^'^ J"; o dreams Had it not been for »he small qna.U.ty of h .s
n.uch a drea_m.r ^"^ --; ^^^ ,,^,.^ ,,,,,, ,, u,e leading poet of his 80
Z:' ^^rC^'^ of ^vinburne. •. An age that should forget or
neglect hin., might neglect or forget any poet that ever hved.
!
THE RIME OF THE ANCHiNT MARINER.
the evening it v.is begun. Some ol U.e m,i^ uas Coleridge's
suggested by Wordsworth^ biU by f.^rth.gr.^^ .^ _.^, K ^.^
invention; and. with the ef'^^PV"""^/ '*;',, r Y^j^. beautv, was an aftt^r-
from common things. In his task ( oleridgt las bec^J ^-J, > .^^^
revived taste tor Ballad l.teramre of which lerg :„t, ,',!,;.. ,iun„.hs ,.t
striking mei.ieulu. it is boyolid dui.nt """.'■'.'"-,„■).:„,, i„ventii m and
Ei^r^elic'Src-aS XX""^"-'coi's:S
354
ADVANCED READER.
I
}
1;
:
H
i
HBf
j;
m
inn i
I'
11
j'l
i \
MM
n
*ip"
I' '^ "l!
U'.i
of previous writors: and its tcndor siMititncMit, its strange splen'lors and
wondrous lH>aiitii!S, ami, ahovu all, tho tlov.cr-like perfection of ii.s execu-
tion, have secured for it the foremost place in the ranks of
" VoiiiiH rycci poesy
All dt'ltly iiiiiskt'il ,is hoar iiitiiiuity."
» I'AKT TIIIC I'lRS'.
It is ail Ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
" By thy lonj,' Rray beard and j,ditterinf,' eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me ?
" The Bridcfjfrooni's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin ;
The },aiests are met, the feast is set :
May'st hear the merry din."
He holds him with his skinny hand ;
" There was a ship," (pioth he.
" Hold off! unhand me, f,aay-beard loon ! "
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
All Ancient
ATariner meetetli
three (Lillunta
hidden tn a
weddiiig-fcist,
and detaincth
one.
I.iTKi^ARV. — " There is more of the '
invisible than of the visible in the
world," is the leading' thought in the
Latin motto prefixed by the author : |
this text he enforces wit' grf'at j
splen ' - and imaginative power. Tn
addition to what has bee' i oinl-rC
out in the Introductory re. , ' . jb- .
serve throughout the poem some of
the terminology and quaint conceits
of the old ballad ; the metrical move-
ment, varying and irregular, but
perfectly adapted to the sense ; the
frequent Onomatopoeia and Allitera-
tion ; the weird vividness of the dif-
ferent pictures, and the wonderful
beauty of the language. Observe
also how the poet has accomplished
his object in dealing with the super-
natural and invisible, " so as to trans-
fer from our outward nature a human
interest and a semblance of truth
sulTicient to procure for these shadows
of the imagination that willing sus-
pension of disbelief for the moment,
which constitutes poetic faith." Read
the prose commentary concurrently
with the poem. Describe the metre.
1-40. These stanzas record the
struggle in the mind of the Wedding-
'iuest unti' he succumbs under the
influence r / th"! Mariner's glittering
ye and tuc weirdness of his rime,
rhe actual is then shut out, and the
invisible asserts its sway.
I. It — Mariner. Explain this
use of "it." Observe the striking
effect of this beginning. We are in-
troduced at once to the central figure
of the poem. What is meant by
"Ancient" ?
7. Note the Middle Rhyme here
and throughout vhe poem.
8. May'st. Similar ellipses are
frequent in the old ballads. Point
out, as they occur, the words and
phrases of "hoar antiquity"; and
note the frequent repetitions of words
and phrases. See 11. 3 and 11, 18
and 38, 20 and 40, etc.
coi.HRinni:.
355
The Wedding-
Uucst i» spell-
bound by the eye
of the old sc.-i-
fariiiK ii>!»ni •>"''
cimsiraincd to
hear his tale.
The Mariner tells
how the ship
sailed southward
with a good wind
an<l fair weather,
till it reached the
Line.
Th.- Wedding-
Guest heareth
the bridal music,
but tlie Mariner
nontinueth his
tale.
He hol'ls him with his ^rluurint; vyv
Tlif \Ve(l(liiiK-(^'«iifSt stood still.
And hsteiis hke a three years' ihiKl :
The Mariner h.ilh liis will.
The WcdthiiK'-^'H^'i^t '^'it '^'^ ' stoiK
He (-aniiot choose hul heai
Anil thus ^pake on that ancient man,
The bri^'ht-eycil Mariner:
" The ship w.is cheered, llie harhor cle.
Merrily did we drop
Below the ki k. below the hill,
Below the n«ht-houst> top.
" The sun canu up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he ;
And he shone bri^dit, and on ihe rip;ht
Went down rito the sea.
" Higher and hifj;}ier every day,
Till over the n asl at noon "—
The Weddinf,'-G lest here !)eat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.
The Bride hath p ced into the hall ;
Red as a rose is she :
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot ch 'ose but hear ;
And thus spake on hat ancient man.
The bright-eyed Mariner ;
«5
«5
>i»
35
'
. .
40
25-28, "The siui comes up out of
the sea, and goes down into it-
grand image of loneliness, the isola-
tion from ether t;reated beings of
that speck upon the boundless waters.
Throughout the poem this sentiment
of isolation is preserved with a mag-
ical and most impressive reality.
All the action is absoluli ly shut up
within the doomed ship. "
30. Where was the ship at this
time? Throughout what follows,
trace the ship's course.
356
ADVANCED READER.
" And now the storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.
45 " With sloping masts and dipping prow.
As who, pursued with yell and blow,
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
50 And southward aye we fled.
" And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold :
And ice, mast-high, came floating by.
As green as emerald.
ss " And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen :
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken —
The ice was all between.
" The ice was here, the ice was there,
60 The ice was all around :
It cracked and growled, and roared and
howled.
Like noises in a swound !
" At length did cross an Albatross ;
Thorough the fog it came ;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
W^e hailed it in God's name.
" It ate the food it ne'er had eat.
And round and round it flew :
The ice did split with a thunder-fit ;
70 The helmsman steered us through !
65
The ship drawn
liyastorm toward
the south pole.
45-50, Note the quickened metrical] 47. shadow— foe.
movement which here, as elsewhere ; touch added ?
in the poem, accompanies the in-
crease in the number of lines in the
stanza.
The land of ice,
and of fearful
sounds, where no
living thing was
to be seen.
Till a great sea-
bird, called the
Albatross, came
through the in-
fo§, and was re-
ceived with great
joy and hospi-
tality.
62. Like— swound
65-66. Account for
Why is this
! Explain,
the welcome.
'r-\
COLERIDGE.
357
And lo ! the Al-
batross proveth a
bird of good
omeHiandfollow-
ech the ship as it
returned north-
ward, throiiKh
fog and floating
ice.
The Ancient
Mariner inhos-
pitably killeth
the pious bird of
good omen.
75
" And a good south wind sprung up behind ;
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play.
Came to the mariners' hollo !
" In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine ;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Ghmmered the white moon-shine."
" God save thee, Ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus !— 80
Why look'st thou so? "— " With my cross-bow
I shot the Albatross.
His shipmates
cry out against
the .\ncient Ma-
riner, for ki'Hng
the bird of good
luck.
But when the fog
cleared off, they
justify the same,
PART THE SECOND.
The Sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he.
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.
And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariners' hollo!
" And I had done a hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe :
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
'Ah, wretch ! ' said they, ' the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!'
" Nor dim nor red, like God's own head
The glorious Sun uprist :
8$
90
95
78 Observe here and throughout { Sy^('. CI uith 11. 25^28, and note
the author's use of the moon in his that the author s reiu^tUjons are char-
descrimions. The weird effects of ! actenstic of the s.mphc ty of the
its light have caught his fancy. j ballad. Cf. also 11. 73-74 ^"^ Sg-go.
<■ i ' ! I
' -nl
;l
105
"5
»25
130
358 ADVANCED READER.
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brou^'ht the fog antl mist.
'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.
" The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free ;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.
" Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt dov, r
'Twas sad as sad could be ;
And we ditl speak only to break
The silence of the sea !
" AH in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than tlie Moon.
" Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion ;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
" W^ater, water, everywhere.
And all the boards did shrink ;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
" The very deep did rot : O Christ !
That ever this should be !
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.
" About, about, in reel and rout.
The death-fires danced at night ;
The water, like a witch's oils.
Burnt green, and blue, and white.
and thus make
themselves ac-
complices in the
crime.
The fair breeze
continues ; the
ship enters the
Pacific Ocean,
and sails north-
ward, even till it
reaches the Line.
'I'he ship hath
been suddenly
becalmed.
And the Alba-
tross begins to
be avenged.
117-118. Illustr.-ite by quotations.
Cf. 11. 314-315, p. 210.
IIQ-I2Q. A-Ccoiint fnr the F.lHpsis,
and give the force of "And," 1. 120.
COLERIDOK
359
A Spirit had fol-
lowed them : one
of the invisible in-
liabitants of this
planet, neither
departed souls
noranKels. They
are very ni'nier-
ous, and there is
no climate or ele-
ment without one
or more.
" And some in ilreains assuicil were
Of the Spirit that pla<,Mied us so ;
Nine fathom deep lie had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.
" And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root ;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked willi soot.
135
'I'he shipmates,
in their sore dis-
tress, would fain
throw the whole
guilt on the
Ancient Mariner:
in sign whereof
they hanKthe
dead sea-bird
round his neck.
The Ancient
Mariner behold-
eth a sign in the
element afar olf.
At its nearer
approach it
seemeth him
to be a ship ; and
at a dear ransom
he freelh his
speech from the
bonds of thirst.
Ah ! well-a-day ! what evil looks
Had I from old and young !
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hun^
140
ig-
PART THE THIRD.
" There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time ! a weary time !
How glazed each weary eye,
When, looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.
" At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist ;
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
" A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist !
And still it neared and neared :
As if it dodged a water-sprite.
It plunged, and tacked, and veered.
145
150
>55
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could nor laugh nor wail ;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood !
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, ite
And cried, A sail ! a sail !
ii
W-
360
ADVANCED READER.
165
■!=r
i' i.
ii
lilii
Ii
170
»75
180
185
190
*' With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Afj;ape they heard me call :
Gramercy ! they for joy did grin, A flash of joy:
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.
" See ! see ! (I cried) she tacks no more !
Hither to work us weal, —
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel !
" The western wave was all a-flame.
The day was well-nigh done !
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad, bright Sun :
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
" And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace !)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
With broad and burning face.
" Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears !
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres ?
" Are those her ribs through which the Sun
Did peer, as through a grate ?
And is that Woman all her crew ?
Is that a Death ? and are there two ?
Is Death that Woman's mate ?
" Her lips were red, her looks were free.
Her locks were yellow as gold :
And horror fol-
lows. For can it
be a ship that
comes onward
without wind or
tide?
It seemeth him
but the skeleton
of a ship.
And its ribs are
seen as bars on
the face of the
setting Sun,
The Spectre-
Woman and her
Death-mate; and
no other on board
the skeleton-ship.
16S. Hither— weai. What is the
relation of this phrase ? (12, IV., 36.)
170. upright keeii Explain.
i ii i; fi|i
COLERIDGE.
361
Like vessel, like
crew !
Her skin was white as leprosy,
The Night-Mare Lh-e-in-Dkath was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.
Death and
Likk-in-Dkath
have diced for the
ship's crew, and
she (the latter)
winifcth the
Ancient Mariner.
No twilight with-
in the courts of
the Sun.
At the rising of
tlie Moon,
One after
another.
" The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice ;
' The game is done ! I've won ! I've won!'
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
" The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark ;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,
Oft" shot the spectre-bark.
" We listened and looked sideways up ;
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seemed to sip 1
The stars were dim, and thick the night.
The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed
white ;
From the sails the dew did drip —
Till clomb above the eastern bar
The horned Moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.
" One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye.
«95
ao5
210
I
215
i .J
His shipmates
drrp down dead.
Four times fifty Hving men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan,)
W' ith heavy thump, a lifeless lump.
They dropped down one by one.
199-200. Observe here, as else-
wiieie, how carefully the actual is
represented.
203. looked sideways up.
^ojj,it for this nttitiuk'.
Ac-
362
ADVANCED READER.
230
225
930
935
940
245
I'
p|i| !'•
" The souls did from their bodies fly,—
Tliey fled to bhss or woe !
And every soul, it passed nie by,
Like the wliiz of my cross-bow ! "
PART THE F01;RTH.
'" I fear thee. Ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand !
And thou art long, and lank, and brown.
As is the ribbed sea-sand.
"* I fear thee and thy glittering eye.
And thy skinny hand, so brown,'
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding Guest !
This body dropt not down.
" Alone, alone, all, all alone.
Alone on a wide, wide sea !
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
" The many men, so beautiful !
And they all dead did lie :
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did L
" I looked upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away ;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.
" I looked to heaven, and tried to pray ;
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.
But LlFE-IN-
Dbath begins
her work on the
Ancient Mariner.
The Wedding.
Guest feareth
that a Spirit is
talking to him ;
But the Ancient
Mariner assur-
eth him of his
bodily life, and
proceedeth to
relate his
horrible penance.
He despiseth the
creatures of the
calm ;
And envieth that
they should live,
and so many lie
dead.
and dumb endurance are dwelt upon
COLERIDGE
i^^i
l!ut llie curse
liveth for him in
ilie eye of the
dead men.
In his loneliness
and fixedness he
yearneih towards
the journeying
Moon, and the
stars that still
sojourn, yet still
move onward ;
and everywhere
the blue sky be-
longs to them,
and is their ap-
pointed rest, and
their native coun-
try, and theirown
natural homes,
which they enter
unannounced, as
lords that are cer-
tainly expected,
and yet there is a
silent joy at their
arrival.
J55
By the light of the
Moon he behold-
eth God's crea-
tures of the great
calm.
" I closed my lids, and kept them close,
And the balls like pulses beat ;
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the ^50
sky
Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.
" The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they :
The look with which they looked on me
Had never passed away.
" An orphan's curse would draj^ to hell
A spirit from on high ;
But oh ! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man's eye !
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse.
And yet I could not die.
" The moving Moon went up the sky,
And nowhere did abide :
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside^
" Her beams bemocked 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 watched the water-snakes :
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.
*« "Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire :
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black.
They coiled and swam ; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.
360
365
370
975
280
f i
ADVANCED READER.
happy living things ! no tongue
Their beauty might declare :
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware :
Sure my kind Saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.
" The self-same moment I could pray ;
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.
PART THE FIFTH.
" Oh sleep ! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole !
To Mary Queen the praise be given !
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,
That slid into my soul.
The silly buckets on the deck,
That had so long remained,
1 dreamt that they were filled with dew ;
And when I woke, it rained.
My lips were wet, my throat was cold.
My garments all were dank ;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
And still my body drank.
I moved, and could not feel my limbs :
I was so light — almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a blessed ghost.
And soon I heard a roaring wind :
It did not come anear ;
But with its sound it shook the sails.
That were so thin and sere.
Their beauty and
their happinejsi.
He blesseth them
in his heart.
The spell begins
to break.
By grace of the
holy Mother,
the Ancient
Mariner is re-
freshed with
rain.
He heareth
sounds and seeth
strange sights
and commotions
in the sky and
the element.
282-287. Observe the lirst touches
of tenderness that break the numb-
ness of the trance, and their relation
to the moral of the poem.
612-617.
See 11.
COLERIDGE.
3^5
poem. See 11.
The bodies of the
ship's crew are
inspired, and the
ship moves on ;
3*5
" The upper air hurst into life !
And a lunidretl ftrc-thiKS slicen,
To and fro they were hurried ahout ! 3-5
And to and fro, and in and out,
The wan stars danced hetween.
" And the coming wind did roar more loud,
And the sails did sigh like sedge ;
And the rain poured down from one black 3=0
cloud ;
The Moon was at its edge.
" The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its side :
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.
" The loud wind never reached the ship.
Yet now the ship moved on !
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
The dead men gave a groan.
" They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes ;
It had been strange, even in a dream.
To have seen those dead men rise.
" The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up blew ;
The mariners all 'gan work the ropes.
Where they were wont to do ;
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools—
We were a ghastly crew.
*' The body of my brother's son
Stood by me, knee to knee :
330
335
340
1 iiii
.T, ,26 Cf 1 127 Observe the I this wild, weird picture, and hi.
viv'id'nSs onhe piel-s cot^ception of | effective use of Onomatopo^ta.
m
366 ADVANCED READER.
The body and 1 pulk;tl at one rope,
But he said nou^dit to nie."
345
350
:' I
35S
360
365
370
«• I fear thee, Ancient Ma'-iner ! " —
" Be cahn, thou WedcHnjf-Guest !
'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came aqain,
But a troop of spirits blest :
" For when it dawned — they diopped their arms.
And clustered round the mast :
Sweet sounds rose slowly throuf,di their mouths.
And from their bodies passed.
•' Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted tc the Sun ;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.
" Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the sky-lark sing ;
Sometimes all little birds that are.
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning !
•' And now 'twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute ;
And now it is 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.
B.it not by the
souls of the men,
nor by donnns
ofearthormicldli;
air, but by a
blessed troop of
angelic spirits
ser.i down by the
invocation of ilie
guardian saint.
354-372. Observe the marvellous
and delicate beauty of these stanzas,
emphasized by the ghastly picture
in 11. 331-334. Even in his horror
the Mariner is not utterly bereft of
joy.
COLERIDGE.
3G7
The lonesome
Spirit from the
Soulli Pule
carries on the
ship as far as the
Line, in obeJi-
e ice to the
angehc troop,
but still re(iuireth
venRcance.
The Polar
Spirit's fellow-
demons, the in-
visible inhabit-
ants of the
element, take
part in his wrong ;
and two of them
relate, one to
the other, that
penance long and
heavy for the
Ancient Mariner
hath been ac-
corded to the
Polar Spirit,
who returneth
southward.
"Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a bree/e uid breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.
" Under the keel nine fathom deep,
From the land of mist and snow,
The Spirit slid: and it was he
That made the ship to },'o.
The sails at noon left off tluir tune,
And the ship stood still also.
"The Sun, ri^dit up above the mast.
Had fixed her to the ocean:
But in a minute she 'gan stir.
With a short, uneasy motion-
Backwards and forwards, half her length.
With a short, imeasy motion.
" Then like a pawing horse let go,
She made a sudden bound :
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.
" How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare ;
But ere my living life returned
I heard, and in my soul discerned.
Two voices in the air."
" Is it he?' quoth one; 'Is this the man?
By Him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow, he laid full low.
The harmless Albatross.
373
380
38s
390
395
400
(( I
The Spirit who bideth by himself,
In the land of mist and snow.
He loved the bird that loved the man
Who shot him with his bow.'
405
If!
I:.:^:!
368
ADVANCED READER.
" The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew :
Quoth he, ' The man huth penance done,
And penance more will do.'
PART THE SIXTH.
First Voice.
4IO ** ' But tell me, tell me ! speak again,
Thy soft response renewing —
What makes that ship drive on so fast ?
What is the Ocean doing?'
Second Voice.
" * Still as a slave before his lord,
415 The Ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the Moon is cast —
" ' If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
4*0 See, brother, see ! how graciously
She looketh down on him.'
First Voice.
'• ' But why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or w^ve or wind?'
Second Voice.
* The air is cut away before,
*»$ And closes from behind.
'* ' Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high,
Or we shall be belated :
For slow and slow that ship will go,
When the Mariner's trance is abated.'
The Mariner
hath been cast
into a trance ;
for the angelic
power causeth
the vessel to drive
northward faster
than human life
could endure.
416-417. Cf. with this powerful
description Wordsworth's " The
broad, open eye of the solitary
sky."
CVLERIlHiE.
3^9
rheMipernatiirai " ] wokc, niid wv wvvv Sailing on,
e Mariner
h been cast
D a trance ;
the angelic
ver causeth
vessel to drive
•thward faster
n human life
lid endure.
million IS rfi.ird-
ed ; ilie Manner
aw.ikes, and his
penance l)cgin»
4 JO
The curse is
finally expiated.
As in a j^^tntK' weather :
'Twas ni},'lit, calm ni^'lil, llie Moon was high
The dead nun stood together.
" All stood together on the deck,
Ft)r a charnel-iliuigeon fitter:
All fixed on nie their stony eyes,
That in the Moon did glitter.
" The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never passed away:
I conkl not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor tnrn them np to pray,
" And now tiiis spell was snapt: once more
I viewed the ocean green.
And looked far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen —
" Like one, that on a lonesome road
Dotii walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned rouiuj walks on,
And turns no more his luMd ;
Becaus*^ he know?, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
" But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in sli ule.
" It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring;
It mingled strangely witli my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.
435
440
445
450
455
442. What "spell" was snapped ? kirk. Note also the return of the
Note the gradual softenin}; of the Mariner to a more natural state of
strain, and the return from the realms I feelint;. as expressed in 11. 446-451.
of the supernatural to the sights and I 458-459. How did it mingle with
sounds of ordinary life— the familiar ! his fe
wind, the lighthouse top, the hill, the
ars, and yet feel like a " wel-
coming
' i-r
H .i
iU:i
I »
n J,'
370
/IDr/liVCii/J) READER.
460 " Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet slie sailed softly too :
Sweetly, sweetl}' blew the breeze —
On me alone it blew.
" Oh ! dream of joy ! is this indeed
465 The light-house top I see ?
Is tins the hill ? is this the kirk ?
Is this mine own eountree ?
'* We drifted o'er the harbor-bar,
And I with sobs did pray —
470 O let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway.
" The harbor-bay was clear as glass.
So smoothly it was strewn !
And on the bay the moonlight lay,
475 And the shadow of the Moon.
" The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.
480 " And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same.
Full many shapes, that shadows were.
In crimson colors came.
•' A little distance from the prow
485 Those crimson shadows were :
I turned my eyes upon the deck —
Oh, Christ ! what saw I there !
The Ancient
Mariner behold
eth his native
country.
The angelic
Spirits leave the
dead bodies :
And appear in
their own forms
of light.
475. the shadow— Moon. Ex-
plain.
472-479. Observe that the quiet-
ness of this scene harmonizes with
the Mariner's feelings (see 11. 498-
499), and is a relief to the reader
after his visionary flight. We are
gradually prepared for the gentle
moralizings at the end.
485. What were these "crimson
shadows"? Cf. 490-495.
m
he Ancient
ariiier behokl-
li his native
iintry.
le angelic
irits leave the
ad bodies ;
id appear in
;ir own forms
light.
COLERIDGE.
371
** EhcIi corse lay flat, lifeless and ilal,
And, h}' the holy rood!
A man all light, a seraph-man, 490
On every corse there stood.
•'This seraph-band, each waved his hand:
It was a heavenly sight !
They stood as signals to the land.
Each one a lovely light : ws
"This seraph-band, each waved his hand:
No voice did they impart —
No voice; but oh! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.
•* But soon I lieard the dash of oars, 500
I heard the Pilot's cheer;
My head was turned perforce awa)',
And I saw a boat appear.
«' The Pilot, and the Pilot's boy,
I heard them coming fast : 305
Dear Lord in Heaxen ! it was a joy
The dead men could not blast.
" I saw a third — I heard his voice:
It ii the Hermit good !
He singeth loud his godly hymns 510
That he makes in the wood.
He'll shrive my soul, he'll wash away
The Albatross's blood."
We are
the gentle
' crimson
The Hermit of
the wood
PART THE SEVENTH.
" This Hermit good lives in that wood
Which slopes down to the sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears !
He loves to talk wath marineres
That come from a far countree.
5«5
If
372
ADVANCED READER.
11*11 i ^
\v:\
520
52s
530
535
540
545
" He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve —
He hath a cusliion phinip:
It is the moss tliat wholly hides
The rotted old oak-stump.
"The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk,
' Why this is strange, I trow!
Where are those lights so many and fair,
That signal made but now?'
" ' Strange, by my faith ! ' the Hermit said—
' And they answered not our cheer !
The planks looked warped ! and see those sails,
How thin they are and sere!
I never saw aught like to them,
Unless, perchance, it were
" ' Brown skeletons of leaves that lag
My forest-brook along ;
When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow.
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below.
That eats the she-wolf's young.'
" ' Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look,'
(The Pilot made reply,)
' I am a-feared — ' ' Push on, push on I '
Said the Hermit cheerily.
" The boat came closer to the ship.
But I nor spake nor stirrc^d ;
The boat came close beneath the ship.
And straight a sound was heard.
Ajjproacheth the
ship with
wonder.
" Under the water it rumbled on.
Still louder and more dread:
It reached the ship, it split the bay;
The ship went down like lead.
The ship sud-
denly sini^eth.
COLERIDGE
373
The Ancient
Mariner is saved
in the Pilot's
boat.
550
Stunned by that loud anil dreadful sound,
Wliich sky and ocean smote,
Like one that hath been seven days drowned.
My body lay afloat ;
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the Pilot's boat. sss
Upon the whirl, where sank the ship.
The boat spun round and rouml;
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.
I moved my lips — the Pilot shrieked,
And fell down in a fit ;
The holy Hermit raised his eyes,
And prayed where he did sit:
S'kj
" I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laughed loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro.
*Ha! hal' quoth he, 'full plain I see,
The Devil knows how to row.'
565
The Ancient
Mariner earnest-
ly entreateth the
Hermit toshrieve
him ; and the
penance of life
falls on him.
" And now, all in my own countree, 570
I stood on the firm land !
The Hermit stepped forth from the boat.
And scarcely he could stand.
" ' O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man! '
The Hermit crossed his brow. 575
' Say quick,' quoth he, ' I bid thee say —
What manner of man art thou?'
" Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.
580
374
ADVANCED READER.
" Since then, at an uncertain liour,
My agony returns :
And till my ghastly tale is told,
585 This heart within me burns.
And ever and
anon throughout
his future life an
agony constrain-
eth him to travel
from land to
land.
" I pass, like night, from land to land ;
I have strrnge power of speech ;
That moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me :
590 To him my tale I teach.
" What loud uproar hursts from that door !
The wedding-guests are there :
But in the garden-bower the bride
And bride-maids singing are :
595 And hark the little vesper bell,
Which biddeth me to prayer !
" O Wedding-Guest ! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide, wide sea :
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
600 Scarce seemed there to be.
" O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me.
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company ! —
M '
605 " To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray.
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends,
And youths and maiuens gay !
586. What may have sugp;ested to
the author the wanderings of the
Mariner?
601-617. Observe the simplicity
and gentleness, and yet the profun-
dity, of the Mariner's moralizings —
so strangely different from the tenor
of the tale, but so perfectly adapted
to its poetic completeness.
nd ever and
ion througho'.it
s future life an
;ony constrain-
li him to travel
:>n\ land to
nd.
And to teach, by
his own example,
love and rever-
ence to all things
that God made
and loveth.
COLERIDGE. 37.5
" Farewell ! farewell ! but this I tell 6io
To thee, thou Weddinjr-Guest 1
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
" He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small ; 615
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."
The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone : and now the Wedding-Guest 620
Turned from the bridegroom's door.
He went like one that had been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn :
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn. 625
614-617. We have here the "in-
forming" idea of the poem. "This
unexpected gentle conclusion brings
our feet back to the common soil
with a bewildered sweetness of relief
and soft quiet, after the strain of
mental excitement."
1. Referring to the punishment of the Mariner, and of his companions,
Rossetti says: " 'The Ancient Mariner,' considered as a train of causes and
effects in the poetic domain (to say nothing of the facts of Nature) seems
to me essentially meagre — defective in the core of common sense." l^x-
plain and comment on this criticism in the l^ght of t)ur knowledge of
Coleridge's object when he composed the poeri. See Introductory.
2. Quote from the ballad markedly beautiful descriptions of natural
phenomena.
3. Select examples of the " terminology and quaint conceits" of the old
ballad.
4. Refer to Critical estimate, pp. 352-353, and show to what extent the
selection illustrates the statements made therein.
he profun-
ralizings —
I the tenter
ly adapted
Composition.
Reproduce in prose "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, " introducing
apt quotations, and showing by the rendering an appreciation of its
beauties.
(>,
t
c
\A.
u
!!(! -^1
k;
!.'■
m
1
\
}
LAMB.
Biographical.— Charles Lamb was born in London, Feb. loth, 1775
Along with Coleridge, he was a scholar on the foundation of Christ's Hos-
pital. Thence he went to the South Sea House, entering the service of
the East India Company in I7y2. He kept this position till 1825, when
5 he retired on a handsome pension. His public life was uneventful, Inu
his private life was altered and saddened by domestic misfortune. There
was insanity in his family. Of an excitable, capricious turn of mind
himself, he had on one occasion to be placed under restraint for a few
weeks; and his sister Mary, whom he tenderly loved, killed her mother
10 in a fit of madness. Henceforth Mary became the special charge of her
brother: for her he gave up everything. Lamb was wholly aCitvman.
The country and even mountain scene; y had little charm for him'. His
delight was to embody in his Es.says, or narrate to his friends, the pecu-
liarities and oddities of every one he met. But, though full of jokes and
15 fun, he was of a kindly disposition, and his humor was seldom meant to
give offence. His favorite books were the works of Elizabethan writers
and many an allusion to these "old times' is met with in his Essays,
He lived on terms of affectionate intimacy with Coleridge, Wordsworth,
LAMB.
377
. loth, 1775.
hrist's Hos-
ae service of
1825, when
iventful, but
ine. There
rn of niiiul
it for a few
her mother
large of her
a City man.
■ him. His
s, the pecu-
f jokes and
in meant to
tian writers,
his Essays,
'^ordsworth,
Hunt, Talfourd, and other eminent literary men of his time. Lamb died
in i8j4, at Enfield, where he had lived f(jr a few years after his retirement ^o
from the service of the East India Company.
Principal Works. — Potws (1797) : These, his first compositions, which
were largely inspired by Coleridge, appeared in a volume issued by the
poets conjointly. A Talc of Rosamond Gray and Old Blind Margaret
(1798): A miniature prose romance, probably better known, after the 25
Essays, than any other of Lamb's writings, though full of improbabilities
and unrealities. There is a tradition that "Rosamond " represents his
first and only love, whom his affectionate regard for his sister had forced
him to resign. John Wuodvil (1S02) : A tragedy written in the style of the
Elizabethan dramatists, and mercilessly ridiculed by the Ediid)urgh He- 30
viewers. A second dramatic attempt, entitled Mr. //., a farce, also proved
unsuccessful. Talcs j'roni Shakespeare (1807); These were written in con-
junction with his sister Mary. Specimens of English Dramatic Poetry
(1808); The poets selected are Shakespeare's contemporaries. The work
evinces penetration and appreciative criticism, and did much to further 35
the revival of that taste for old authors which became one of the elements
of the "New Poetry." (See Prim, of Eni^r. JJt., pp. i (ij-i.jo.) Poetry for
Children (1800). His poems, however, but faintly foreshadowed the powers
which were fully displayed in his Essays of Elia. Of these, the first series,
originally contributed to the London Magazine, appeared in a collected 4°
form in 1823; and the second, in 1833, under the title of Last Essays of
Elia. To use the words of Sergeant Talfourd, his biographer, "These
Essays are all carefully elaborated; yet never were books written in a
higher defiance of the conventional pomp of style. A sly hit, a happy pun,
a humorous combination, lets the light into the intricacies of the subject 45
and supplies the place of ponderous sentences. Seeking his materials for
the most part in the common paths of life— often in the humblest— he gives
an importance to everything, and sheds a grace over all." Album Verses
(1830) : The contents of this small volume had been published originally in
the London Magazine.
50
Critical.— Of the long ime of skilful essayists who preceded him, there
is, perhaps, not one so unique, so original, as the author of the Essays of
Elia. To Addison and Steele he l^ears some resemblance, but he has a
whimsical and fantastic charm of his own. Lamb began his career as a
poet, but he won his fame as an essayist. His special delight was the old 55
and the quaint : he loved to " hang for the thousandth time over some
passage in old Burton, or one of his strange contemporaries." The pecu-
liarities of his style are, indeed, largely due to his constant and enthusiastic
study of old English authors; but the quaintness of the dress suits the
quaintness of his mind. Much, however, is also due to his sensitive, genial 60
nature. His works reflect his poetic instinct, his whims and his fancies,
his tenderness and his humor. His style has a subtle and peculiar charm.
It is quaint yet natural, simple yet scholarly : it revived the spirit no less
;lili!
378
ADVANCED READER.
than the language of the Elizabethan authors. As in other humorist'-
65 humor and pathos with Lamb go hand in hand, Like all essayists he too'
IS an egotist ; but his egotism never palls. He has not a touch of vanity or
self-assertion-of envy or ill-uill. When he speaks of himself or his lifo
nothing could be more delicately expressed : when he indulges in the gro'
tesciue humor of The Dissertation on Roast Pifr ; or dilates with whimsical
70 tenderness on the Chimney Siceepers—" thoi^c innocent blacknesses"- or
falls into a vein of touching sentiment in his Dreaw Chil.tnn, a reverie
which he wrote by his lonely hearth ; no one could be a more deli-ditful
companion. In delicacy of feeling, in choiceness of language, and in'plav
ful humor, Lamb ranks as one of the masters of our literature '
r ; ■:
i !■
DISSERTATION ON ROAST PIG.
From " The Essays of Elia."
Mankind, says a Cliinese manuscript, which my friend M
was obhfring enough to read and explain to me, for the first
seventy thousand ages ate their meat raw, clawing or biting
It from the living animal, just as they do in Abyssinia to this
5 day. This period is not obscurely hinted at by ^heir great
Confucius in the second chapter of his Mundane Mutations,
where he designates a kind of golden age by the term Cho-
fang, literally the cooks' holiday. The manuscript goes on to
say that the art of roasting, or rather broiling (which I take
,0 to be the elder brother), was accidentally discovered in the
manner following.
The swine-herd Ho-ti, having gone out into the woods one
mornmg, as his manner was, to collect mast for his hogs, left
his cottage in the care of his eldest son. Bo-bo, a great 'lub-
,5 berly boy, who, being fond of playing with fire, as younkers
of his age commonly are, let some sparks escape into a bun-
dle of straw, which kindling quickly, spread the conflagration
LiTKR.\Rv.— Explain what is meant
by Humor. (13, II., 3.) Note that
the humor of this essay consists
mainly in the degradation to the
level of " Roas* Pig," of the language
used and the mode of treatment
adopted. Note also the author's
fondness for rare or obsolete words,
and for quotations especially from
Elizabethan writers.
i-ii. Observe here and through-
out the selection the author's affecta-
tion of candor. Point out, as the
literary analysis proceeds, the means
by which he gives a truthful and
philosophic air to the narrative.
12-2S. Comment on the arrange-
ment of the words in the sentences
of this paragraph.
LAMn.
379
over every part of their poor mansion, till it was reduced to
ashes. Tof,'ether with ti\e cotta<,'c (a sorry antediluvian uiak(>-
shift of a buildinff, you may think it), what was of uuich \unvv 20
importance, a fine litter of new-farrowed pij,'s. no less than
nine in ninnber, perislied. China pi^s have been esteemed a
luxury all over the h'ast from the remotest periods that we
read of. Bod)o was in the utmost consternation, as you may
think, not so much for the sake of the tenement, which his as
father and he could build up aj^ain with a few dry branches
and the labor of an hour or two, at any time, as for the loss
of the pifjfs.
While he was thinkinf^ what he should say to his father,
and wringing his hands over the smoking remnants of one of 30
those untimely sufferers, an odor assailed his nostrils unlike
any scent which he had before experienced. What could it
proceed from ? Not from the burned cottage— he had smelled
that smell before; indeed, this was by no means the first
accident of the kind which had occurred through the negli- 35
gence of this unlucky young firebrand. IMuch less did it
resemble that of any known herb, weed, or flower. A pre-
monitory moistening at the same time overflowed his nether
.lip. He knew not what to think. He next stooped down to
feel the pig, if there were any signs of life in it. He burneil 40
his fingers, and to cool them he applied them, in his booby
fashion, to his mouth. Some of the crumbs of the scorched
skin had come away with his fingers, and for the first time in
his life (in the world's life indeed, for before him no man had
known it) he tasted— crackling ! Again he felt and fiunbled *s
at the pig. It did not burn him so much now ; still he licked
his fingers from a sort of habit. The truth at length broke into
his slow understanding that it was the pig that smelled so,
and the pig that tasted so delicious ; and, surrendering him-
self up to the new-born pleasure, he fell to tearing up whole 50
handfuls of the scorched skin with the tlesh next it, and was
29-45. Note the gradual leading up in connection with such a subject as
to the momentous discovery. " Roast Tig, "
45. What is the effect of the dash
:(7-3g. Note here and throughout: lielore "crackling'? Note thai the
the essay the humorous effect of; frequent use of the dash is charac-
the employment of learned language , teristic of Lamb.
3Ho
AD I -.IXC ED READER
cranimm- it down his throat in his beastly fashion, whon his
sire entered ann.l the smoking rafters, armed with retrihutorv
cudgel, and, fuuinig how affairs stood, he-an to rain blows
55 upon the young rogue's shoulders as thick as hailstones which
lio-bo heeded not any more than if they had been flies The
tickhng pleasure which he experienced in his lower regions
had rendered him quite callous to any inconveniences he mi.d.i
feel m those remote quarters. His lather might lay on, bnt
<^o he could not beat him from his pig till he had fairly made
an end of ,t, when, becoming a little more sensible of his
situation, something like the following dialogue ensued •
" \ou graceless whelp, what have you got there devouring '
Is It not enough that you have burned me down three houses
65 with your dog s tricks, and be hanged to soxx ! but you musi
be eating fire, and I know not what ? Wliat liave you got
there, I say ? j' s^i
" O, father, the pig, the pig ! Do come ana taste how nice
the burnt j)ig eats ! '"
70 The ears of Ho-ti tingled with horror. He cursed his son
and he cursed himself that ever he should beget a son that'
should eat Inunt pig. Bo-bo, whose scent was wonderfully
sharpened since morning, soon raked out another pig, and
fairly rending it asunder, thrust the lesser half by main force
"into the hsts of Ho-ti, still shouting out, " Eat.'^eat, eat the
burnt pig, father ! only taste l-O Lord ! "-with such-like
barbarous ejaculations, cramming all the while as if he would
Ho-ti trembled in every joint while he grasped the abomin-
so able thing, wavering whether he should not put his son to
death for an unnatural young monster, when the cracklin^^
scorching h.s fingers, as it had done his son's, and applying
the same remedy to them, he in ]us turn tasted some of its
flavor, which, make what sour mouths he would for a pre-
83 fence proved not altogether displeasing to him. In conclu-
sion (for the manuscript here is a little tedious), both father
55-5G. which— flies. Criticise the 74, the lesser half \rot« n,;.
position of this clause, touch
manuscript introduced ?
LAMIi.
3S1
when his
ftrihutorv
aiii blows
ii^s, wliich
les. The
■f rcf^Mons
I he niijrht
y on, hut
riy made
'le of liis
ed :
vouriii"- '
-e houses
y'ou must
you ffot
how nice
his sou.
son tlial
iderfully
3ig, and,
lin force
eat the
mchdike
le would
aboniin-
; son to
rackling
ipplying
le of its
r a pre-
conclu-
1 father
Jote this
:e to the
an
(1 son fairly sat down to the mess, and iii'vcr It ft olV till
1)0
they had despatched all that remained of tlu" litter.
Bo-bo was strictly enjoined not to let the secret escap(\
for the neij^hbors woiilil certainly have stoned them for a
couple of abominable wretches, who could think of improving'
upon the good meat which God had sent them. Nevertheless,
strange stories got about. It was observed tliat Ho-ti's cot-
tage was burned down now more freriuently than evi'r. No-
thin"' bnt hres from this time forward. Some would break ys
out in broad day, others in the ni ;ht-time. As often as the
sow farrowed, so sure was the house of Ho-ti to be in a bla/.e;
and Ilo-ti himself, which was the more remarkable, instead of
chastising his son, seemed to grow more indulgent to hiui
than ever. At length they were watched, the terrible mystery 100
discovered, and father and son summoned to take their trial
at Pekin, then an inconsiderable assize town. Evidence was
given, the obnoxious food itself produced in court, and verdict
about to be pronoimced, when the foreman of the jiu\' begg(>d
that some of the burned pig, of which the culprits stood 105
accused, might be handed into the box. He handled it, and
they all handled it, and burnnig their fingers, as Bo-bo and
his father had done before them, and nature prompting to
each of them the same remedy, against the face of all the
facts, and the clearest charge which judge had ever given— to no
the surprise of the whole court, townsfolk, strangers, reporters,
and all present — without leaving tlie box, or any mai.ner of
consultation whatever, they brought in a simultaneous verdict
of Not Guilty !
The judge, who was a shrewd fellow, winked at the mani- ns
fest iniquity of the decision ; and when the court was dismissed
went privily and bought up all the pigs that could be had for
love or money. In a few days his lordship's town-house was
observed to be on fire. The thing took wing, and now there
was nothing to be seen but fire in every direction ; fuel and 120
pigs grew enormously dear all over the district. The insur-
ance offices one and all shut up shop. People built slighter
89-124. Point out the humorous
touches in this passage. Note the cli-
max of sound in 11. 106-114. Account
for ihe abrupt style of 11. 11S-124.
382
ADVANCED READER.
»:;:,!;;
and sli^ditcr every day, until it was feared that the very science
of architecture would in no loni,' time be lost to the world.
i»5 Thus this cust
oin of hrnif,' lioiises contiinied. till in proc
of time, says niy maruiscript, a saf,'e arose, lil.
who made a discovery th.it the flesh of
:'ess
e our Locke,
^wine, or indeed of any
other annual, mif,du he cooked [hnrnt, as they -ailed it) with-
out the necessity of consmnin^j a whole house to dress it
.30 Then first he^^an the- rude form of a Ki'iHron. KoastinVr 1,3'
the string or spit came in a century or two later— I forget in
whose dynasty. By such slow degrees, concludes the mami-
scnpt, do the most useful, and seenungly the most obvious,
arts m.'.ke their way among mankind.
135 Without placing too implicit faith in the account above
given, it must be agreed that if a worthy pretext for so dan-
gerous an experiment as setting houses on f^re (especially in
these days) could be assigned in favor of any culinary object,
that pretext and excuse might be found in Koast Pk;.
■40 Of all the delicacies in the whole miiudns cdihilis, I will
maintain it to be the most delicate— /)W//a'/)5 obsonionim. I
speak not of your grown porkers— things between i)ig and
jiork, those hobbledehoys— but a young and tender suckling,
und-n- a moon old, guiltless as yet of the sty; with no original
145 speck of the amor inimunditicc, the hereditary failing of the
first parent, yet m,.nifest; his voice as yet not broken, but
something between a childish treble and a grumble, the mild
forerunner, or pnclud in in, of a grunt.
He ninsf be roasted. I am not ignorant that our ancestors
isoate tliem seethed, or boiled, but what a sacrifice of the
exterior tegument I
There is no flavor comparable, I will contend, to that of
the crisp, ta^ny, well-watched, not over-roasted, crackling, as
I25-134- Observe the ludicrous
affectation of tlie grave historical
style, and the dr. .11 effect of the phi-
losophic gravity of the last sentence.
140-148. Note again the hurrorous
introduction of learned words, to
give dignity to the subject, and the
tendfi
ith which the
iipprcciaticn -u ^ ^
author dwells on the merits of the
"child-pig."
-parent. E.xplain
144-146. with-
the Allusion,
152-163. Note the admirable art
with which this sentence is con-
structed, the burlesque exaggeration
of the sentiment, and the droll sug-
gestiveness of the heaped-up epithets.
The merits of 'crackling" are such
that ths author's powers of apprecia-
tive expression seem to fail him.
LAMli.
383
iry sneiicc
ilu' world.
ill process
iM Locke,
ijed of any
1 it) with-
• dress it.
)astin^' 1)\'
for^'et ill
he m.-iiiii-
L obvious,
lilt aliovi"
r so dan-
lecially in
ry ol)ject.
G.
lis, I will
ioniNi, I
pi^^ and
suckliiif^,
original
If,' of the
)ken, bill
the mild
mcestors
e of the
) that of
kling, as
Explain
lirable art
e is con-
aggeration
droll sug-
p epithets,
are such
apprecia-
1 him.
it is well called: the very teeth arc iiuitcd to tluir share of
the pleasure at this baiKpiet in overconiiiif,' the coy, brittle 1,=
resistance, with the adhesive oicaf^inous
().
call it not fat !
but an indelinable sweetness j^aowiii;,' up to it. the tender
blossoniinj.( of fat, fat cropped in the bud, taken in the shoot,
in the first innocence, tin- cream and (luintessi'iK f ot the
child-pif,''s yet pure-food --♦he lean, no k'an. but a kiml of ,-„,
animal manna -or, rather, fat and lean (if it must be so) so
i)leiided and rimninj,' into each other, that both toj^ether make
but one ambrosiaii result, (jr common substance.
Behold him while he is " doinjj; "— it seenieth rather a re
fresh'iif.; warmth than a scorching,' heat, that he is sn passive ,65
to. How equably he twirleth round \\v string! Now he is
just done. To see the extreme sensibility of that tender agi" !
he hath wept out his pretty eyes — radiant jellies shooting
stars.
See him in the dish, his second cradle, how meek he lieth ! ,70
— wonldst thou have had this innoc(>nt grow up to the gross-
ness and indocility which too often accompan\- maturer swine-
hood ? Ten to one he would have proved a glutton, a sloven,
an obstinate disagreeable animal, wallowing in all manner of
filthy conversation. From these sins he is liappil\ snatched 173
away —
"Ere sin could blight, or sorrow fade,
Deatli came with timely care."
His memory is odoriferous ; no clown curseth, while his sto-
mach half rejecteth, the rank bacon ; no coal-heaver bolteth .Su
him in reeking sausages; he hath a fair sepidchre in the
grateful stomach of the judicious epicure, and for such a
tomb might be content to tlie.
He is the best of sapors. Pine-apple is great. She is,
indeed, almost too transcendent — a delight, if not sinful, yet 185
164-183. Note the ludicrous affcc- ! 1S4-192. Observe the construction
tation of archaic diction, and the de- i of this paragraph. In the first two
licious mock sentinit-nt of the moral- I sent»;nces the author states his opin-
izings in 11. 170-183. Note also that I ions briefly and meditatively; in the
the apt use of quotations is one of ' third his gastronomic raptures ^ .irry
the minor peculiaritiesoftheauthor's ium away m an ecstasy ot language,
style. Explain the construction of 1 Why is the "pig" "he," and the
the phrase "To see — age! " 1. 167. j "pine-apple" " she"?
384
ADVANCED READER.
i^aiMi
lii
so like to sinning, tliat really a tender-conscienced person
would do well to pause ; too ravishing for mortal taste, she
woundeth and excoriateth the lips that approach her ; she is
a pleasure bordering on pain from the fierceness and insanit}'
190 of her relish ; but she stoppeth at the palate ; she meddleth
not with the appetite ; and the coarsest hunger might barter
her consistently' for a mutton chop.
Pig — let me speak his praise— is no less provocative of the
appetite than he is satisfactory to the criticalness of the cen-
195 sorious palate. The strong man may batten on him, and the
weakling refuseth not his mild juices.
Unlike to mankind's mixed characters, a bmidle of virtues
and vices, inexplicably intertwisted, and not to be unravelled
without hazard, lie is — good throughout. No part of him is
200 better or worse than another. He helpeth, as far as his little
means extend, all around. He is the least envious of ban-
quets. He is all neighbors' fare.
I am one of those who freely and ungrudgingly impart a
share of the good things of this life which fall to their lot (few
20s as mine are in this kind) to a friend. I protest I take as great
an interest in my friend's pleasures, his relishes, and proper
satisfactions, as in mine own. " Presents," I often say, "en-
dear absents." Hares, pheasants, partridges, snipes, barn-
door chickens (those "tame villatic fowl"), capons, plovers,
aio brawn, barrels of oysters, I dispense as freely as I receive
them. I love to taste them, as it were, upon the tongue of
my friend. But a stop must be put somewhere. One would
not, like Lear, " give everything." I make my stand upon
pig. Methinks it is an ingratitude to the Giver of all good
215 flavors to extra-domiciliate, or send out of the house, slight-
ingly (under the pretext of friendship, or I know not what), a
blessing so particularly adapted, predestined, I may say, to
my individual palate. It argues an insensibility.
I remember a touch of conscience in this kind at school.
203-218. Show how this paragraph
emphasizes theauthor's high estimate
of " Roast pig."
Point out the touches of Irony. (12,
IV., 13.) Observe that the burlesque
reasoning by illustration reveals the
real state of the matter, though the
219-246. Developthebearingofthis I author assigns another reason for
!' ■
paragraph on the preceding one. \ his conduct.
i:A
LAMB.
J>^5
My good old aunt, who never jiartcd from nie at tlie eiul of a 220
holiday without stufiing a sweetmeat, or some nice thing, into
my pocket, hatl dismissed me one evening with a smoking
plum-cake fresh from the oven. In my way to school (it was
over London bridge), a gray-headed old beggar saluted me ( I
have no tloubt, at this time of day, that he was a counterfeit), n,
I had no pence to console him with, and, in the vanity of self-
denial, and the very coxcondiry of charity, sciiool-boy like, I
made him a present of — the whole cake ! I walked on a little,
buoyed up, as one is on such occasions, with a sweet soothing
of self-satisfaction ; but, before I had got to the end of the ^jo
bridge, my better feelings returned, ami I burst into tears,
thinking how ungrateful I had been to my good aunt, to go
and give her good gift away to a stranger that I had never
seen before, and who might be a bad man for aught 1 knew ;
and then I thought of the pleasure my aunt would be taking 235
in thinking that I — I myself, and not another - would eat her
nice cake. And what should I say to her the next time 1 saw
her ? How naughty I was to part with her prettv present !
And the odor of that spicy cake came back upon my recollec-
tion, and the pleasure and the curiosity I had taken in seeing 240
her make it, and her joy when she sent it to the oven, and
how disappointed she would feel that I had never had a bit
of it in my mouth at last. And 1 blamed my impertuient
spirit of almsgiving and out-of-place hypocrisy of goodness ;
and, above all, I wished never to see the face again of that 243
insidious, good-for-nothing, old gray impostor.
Our ancestors were nice in their method of sacrificing these
tender victims. We read of pigs whipped to death with some-
thing of a shock, as we hear of any other obsolete custom.
The age of discipline is gone by, or it would be curious to 250
inquire (in a philosophical light merely) what effect this i)ro-
cess might have towards intenerating and dulcifying a sub-
stance naturally so mild and dulcet as the Hesh of yomig pigs.
247. Comment on the meanings of
" nice."
250-254. Explain " The age of dis-
riplinc," Comment on the effect of
the phrase within the brackets. What
AA
characteristic of the author is here
displayed ?
254-25U. Note the assumed philo-
sophic caution.
386
ADVANCED READER.
It looks like refining a violet. Yet we should be cautious,
,55 while we condemn the inhumanity, how we censure the wis-
dom of the practice. It might impart a gusto.
I remember an hypothesis, argued upon by the young stu-
dents when I was at St. Omer's, and maintained with much
learning and pleasantry on both sides, " Whether, supposing
,60 that the flavor of a pig who obtained his death by whipping
(per flaggeUationem cxtremam) superadded a pleasure upon
the palate of a man more intense than any possible suflfering
we can conceive in the animal, is man justified in using that
method of putting the animal to death ? " I forget the
26s decision. ^
His sauce should be considered. Decidedly a few b ■ yj
crumbs, done up with his liver and brains, and a dash of mild
sage. But banish, dear Mrs. Cook, I beseech you, the whole
onion tribe. Barbecue your whole hogs to your palate, steep
370 them in shallots, stuff them out with plantations of the rank
and guilty garlic; you cannot poison them or make them
stronger than they are; but consider, he is a weakling— a
flower.
264-265. Why has he forgotten the
"decision" ?
266-273. What poetic ornament
is there in this paragraph ?
1. Define the term " Essay."
2. What is meant by calling Lamb " the Montaigne of English Essay-
ists"'
3 Compare the humor of Lamb with that of Dickens and of Haliburton.
4. Refer to Critical estimate, pp. 377-378. and show to what extent the
preceding selection illustrates the peculiarities of Lamb s style as stated
therein.
5. Give an account of the history of the English Essay, and characterize
the leading Essayists.
Composition.
I. Reproduce "The Dissertation on Roast Pig."
lutioiis,
he wis-
ing stu-
h much
pposing
hipping
e iipon
uflfering
ng that
get the
r h '.'A-
of mild
le whole
[e, steep
he rank
ce them
kling — a
ornament
ish Essay-
[aliburton.
extent the
J as stated
laracterize
', //
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
Biographical.— Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh, Aiigust 15th, 1771.
Owing to his delicate health he was sent to live with his grandfather, in
the country, at Sandy-Knowe, near Kelso. In the neighborhood were
many of the places famous in Border story, and the ballads and legends
of this romantic land were soon filling his memory and charming his imagi-
nation. At Kelso, where he afterwards lived for a time with another rela-
tive, Percy's Rcliqiu's of Ancient Poetry fell into his hands. These also had
an important influence in moulding his tastes. In due course he was
sent to the High School at Edinburgh, and thence to the University ; but
for Latin and Greek and Philosophy he had little inclination. Stories, how-
ever, he could tell in abundance, and he devoured romances, and books
relating to the old Feudal times, with much other literature of an antiquarian
and miscellaneous character. From 1786 to ijgi he studied law in his
father's office ; but, though called to the Bar, he paid little attention to his
profession. Literature had greater charms for him. Whenever oppor-
tunity offered, he would make "a raid," as he called it, into Border-land,
to collect old ballads still current on the lips of the peasants. All this bore
its fruit in his descriptions of rural scenery, life, and character. On his
«s
1
I * .
i
Hjjiiili;-
388
ADVANCED READER.
marriage, in 1797, he removed to Lasswade, and settled down to study and
20 literary work. In 779^ he was appointed Sheriff of Selkirkshire, and in this
capacity went in 1804 to reside at Ashestiel, on the banks of the Tweed.
A Clerkship of the Court of Sessions, received in 1806, still further increased
his income. He now began to have dreams of becoming a " laird." For this
an estate was needed ; and, to bring in money more plentifully, he entered
25 into partnership with James Ballantyne, an Edinburgh printer— a step,
however, which long remained a secret. In 181 1 Scott bought a hundred
acres of land on the banks of the Tweed, near Melrose. Here he spent
immense sums of money in improvements and baronial buildings, and in fur-
ther adding to his estate. This property became the famous Abbotsford. In
3r the meantime Scott's poetical works were being rapidly produced. Their
novelty, however, soon wore off, and their character deteriorated. Byron,
too, had taken England by storm. Scott, therefore, in 1814, turned to
prose fiction. At first he wrote under the name of " Waverley," but
subsequentlv under his own name, publishing his works with marvellous
35 rapidity, and becoming more and more popular. In 1820 he was honored
with a baronetcy by George IV. The printing business with which he
was connected had extended into a publishing one, finally becoming con-
nected with the house of Constable & Co. On the failure of this firm
Scott became a bankrupt, with liabilities amounting to /i50,ooo. This
40 debt he resolved to pay to the last farthing. Listening to no offer of com-
promise, he gave up all his luxuries, hired rooms in Edinburgh, devoted
himself to labor, and in t%vo years paid off ;^40,ooo. But in 1830 he had a
stroke of paralysis, from the effects of which he never wholly recovered.
In April. 1831, he had another attack, and some months later went to Italy
45 and Malta to regain his lost strength. But he longed to return. In June,
1832, he was brought back almost unconscious, till the sight of the towers
of Abbotsford stirred his failing senses. Here he lingered lill the 21st
of September, when he passed away, " with every window wide open, and
the ripple of theTweed over its pebbles distinctly audible in his room."
Principal \Works.—Voems— Translations : Biirgcr's Lconorc, and Tht;
° Wild Huntsman (179O), and Goethe's Gori^ I'on Bcrlichingcn (1799) : These
productions indicate the influence of the German Romantic School ; but
" the rill of foreign Influence," however, " wp-., soon lost in a river which
flowed from a more abundant spring." Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border
55 (1802) : A collection of ballads gathered during his " raids " in Liddesdale.
The Lay of the Last Minstrel (1805) : "The Last Minstrel is the poet him-
self, who revives in a prosaic and degenerate age the heroic memories of
the olden time." The "Lay" met with unprecedented success. Marmion
(1808): Undoubtedly the greatest of his poems, while The Lady of the
6c Lake I1810) is the freshest. Rokeby (1813) and The Lord of the Isles (1814)
show exhaustion, the latter in a marked degree. The Bridal of Triermain
ii?,-;-) and Hnrnld ike Dauntless (1817) are weak, though the former displays
picturesqueness and narrative skill. The Vision of Don Roderick (181 1) : An
unsuccessful attempt to associate the past history of Spain with the inter-
SCOTT.
389
ests of the Peninsulrir War. Scott's career as a novelist opened liefore his 65
career as a poet closed, lieforc The Lord of the Isles, appeared Wavrrlcy
(1814), the first of his long and ma^^nificent series of prose fictio;;s. The
following tabular view, which includes historical epochs and dates, shows
the vast and varied range of the author's subjects: —
HISTOKICAI,.
Wavcrlcy
Old Mortality ...
Lcficnd of .Montrose
The .\bbot
The .Monastery ...
Fair Maid of Perth
Castle Dunf^eroiis
Ivanhoe
Kenilu'orlh
fortunes of Xit;el
Pcveril of the Peak
lietrothed
Talisman
\\\>odsloek
()H(Vi(i)i Durieard
.'\nnc of Geiersteir.
Count Robert of Paris (iSji)
(1814) Scottish
(1H16)
(iHig)
{1S20)
(1820)
(182S)
(iH,y)
(i8iy) linnlish
(1821)
(1822)
(1823)
(1825)
I182.S)
(1826)
(1823) Contiixciit.il
(1820)
I'rcti'iKii'i's .Vttcmpt 1745
K( bcllicM ol tilt.' C'jvoiuititt'rs ... iTi^ij
Civil W'.ir i(,45
M.iiy, yiiocii of Scots i^hy
>55t'
Ki'inii of Koliort III 1402
. m.uk OoiinLis iji)6
, Kich.ird Cci'iM-iic-I.ion 1194
KeiKti of ICliz,ilH-th 1575
Kcinii of Janus 1 1604
Kei^ii of Cli.ulfs II 1678
, Welsh Wars 1187
, Kicliaid C(PUi-(l(-I.ioii mji
. Civil War ami Coiiimonwoaltli ... 1(152
. I.oiiis XI. anil Ch.irlcs the IJold... i ((18
. ICporh of Battle of Ncvvry i (74
, Crusaili'rs at Byz.uitiiiiii 1098
70
75
8a
8s
SOCiAI.
Guy Mannerinji;
Antiquary
Black Dioarf
Rob iioy
Heart of Mid-Lothian
liridc of Lainmermoor
The Pirate
(1815),
(i8it)),
(i8ir»,
(1817),
(18 18),
(1819),
{1821),
1:65
!>').';
1 70I)
I7>5
1736
1700
(1823),
(1824),
(1827),
(1827),
(1827),
1812
I7f>3
1780
«795
"775
1702
1782
90
.S7. Konan's Well
Ned^aunllel
.Suri^eoii's llaui^htir ...
Two Drovers
Highland Widow ...
My .{tint Marf^aret's .Uiniic(i828),
The Tal^estried Chamber.. (1828),
The latter class relate chiefly to Scottish scenes and character, and sub-
ordinate to these the historical interest when it forms an element in their 95
composition. In addition to the preceding, and one or two others of little
importance, Scott wrote a Life of Napohou, Tahs of a Gnuidfitlur, History
of Scotland (for Laniiicr's Encyclupicdia), Letters on Denioiiology, Life and
Works of Drydcn, and Life and Works of Szcift. •
Critical. — Of the change in literary taste which substituted romantic too
for classical topics and sentiment, Scott is the first great British repre-
sentative. Unlike his contemporaries, who were deeply stirred by the
political convulsions of the period, he took his subjects from the remote
past, and began his career by reviving the spirit of the ancient French and
Anglo-Norman Trouveres. When his poetic vein became exhausted, he 105
entered the field of prose fiction, where he stood without a rival. lie pi. :;d
the novel on the firm foundation it has since held, and enhanced its value by
giving it a more artistic form, by enlarging the range of its subjects, and by
making it a medium for moral and intellectual culture. Scott's great strength
lay in his shrewdness of observation, the fruitful richness of his fancy, and no
the abundant and varied resuiucea of his memory. To these qualities, united
with high s. 'rit, tender sensibility, and anticpiarian tastes, we owe his
finest novels as well as his finest poems. In narration and description he
/ !
390
ADVANCED READER.
has never been excelled, and in imaginaMve and creative powers he ranks
"5 next to Homer and Shakespeare. In delineating character, as in depicting
Nature, he contents himself with the surface. Unlike those of George Eliot,
his works contain no profound analyses of human motives, nor do they
display the philosophic bent, the refinement of imagination, and the per-
ception of the mysteries of creation ■which characterized his greatest con-
lao temporaries. No one, however, has surpassed him in vivid and palpable
reproduction of the past. Not that in every detail he is invariably realistic.
Of errors in fact he is sometimes guilty ; but he never fails to infuse into his
work the general spirit of the period in which he lays his scene. While
his poems are pure romances, his novels give the unromantic as well as the
125 romantic side oi life: his characters are not mere individuals, but indi-
viduals as they were influenced by the public and social strifes of their
times. Tragic intensity Scott possesses, as well as infinite humor; lyrical
excellence, as well as dramatic talent. Always easy and graphic, his style
is animated and graceful, though often careless and incorrect. He wrote
130 with great rapidity, aiming merely at broad, general effects; he cared more
for striking picturesqueness than for melody and minute artistic details.
Before the publication of WavcrUy ^'cotland was a comparatively unknown
land. Scott's fervid patriotism has made his country famous. To his
genius and industry he owed much of his popularity, but he owed no little
13s to the unexceptionable morality of his productions. It filled his eyes with
tears to be told that he was doing good by his noble and fascinating tales.
On his deathbed it consoled him that he had not compromised the interests
of virtue. As the last moments drew near, he expressed himself to his
son-in-law in words that are " like apples of gold in pictures of silver " —
140 " Lockhart, I may have but a minute to speak to you. My dear, be a good
man — be virtuous, be religious — be a good man. Nothing else will give
you comfort when you come to lie here."
i I
THE FIRST DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT OF ASHBY-DE-LA-
ZOUCHE.
From " Ivanhoe."
The lists now presented a most splendid spectacle. The
sloping galleries were crowded with all that was noble, great,
wealthy and beautiful in the northern and midland parts of
England ; and the contrast of the various dresses of these
s dignified spectators rendered the view as gay as it was rich,
while the interior and lower spaces, filled with the substantial
Literary. — Note the author's an- i Criticise throughout the construction
tiquarian knowledge, and powers of , of the sentences and paragraphs,
graphic description and narration. | (12, I., II.. and III.)
fl'i
SCOTT.
391
burj^fesses and yeomen of merry Enpfland, formed, in their
more plain attire, a dark friiif^e, or border, around this circle
of brilliant embroidery, relieving,', and, at the same time,
setting otT its splendor. «o
The heralds finished their proclamation with their usual
cry of "Largesse, largesse, gallant knights!" and gold and
silver pieces were showered on them from the g.dleries, it
being a high point of chivalry to exhibit liberality towards
those whom the age accounted at once the secretaries and 15
the historians of honor. The bovuity of the spectators
was acknowledged by the customary shouts of " Love
of Ladies — Death of Champions — Honor to the (ienerous —
Glory to the Brave !" To which the more humble s}K'ctators
added their acclamations, and a numerous band ot trumpeters 20
the flourish of their martial instruments. When these sounds
had ceased, the heralds withdrew from the lists in gay and
glittering procession, and none remained within them save
the marshals of the field, who, armed cap-a-pie, sat on horse-
back, motionless as statues, at the opposite ends of the lists. 25
Meantime, the enclosed space at the "orthern extremity of the
lists, large as it was, was now completely crowded with
knights desirous to prove their skill against the challengers,
and, when viewed from the galleries, presented tlie appearance
of a sea of waving plumage, intermixed with glistening helmets, 30
and tall lances, to the extremities of which were, in many
cases, attached small pennons of about a span's breadth,
which, fluttering in the air as the breeze caught them, joined
with the restless motion of the feathers to add liveliness to
the scene. .«
At length the barriers were opened, and five knights, chosen
by lot, advanced slowly into the area ; a single champion
riding in front, and the other four following in pairs. All
were splendidly armed, and my Saxon authority (in the
Wardour Manuscript) records at grc^at length their devices, 40
their colors, and the embroidery of their horse trappings. It
is unnecessary to be particular on these subjects. To borrow
lines from a contemporary, who has written but too little : —
mtemp
' The knights are dust,
And their good swords are rust ;
Their souls are with the saints, we trust.
45
392
ADVANCED READER.
I;l
I
Their escutclieons have lonfj mouldered from the walls of their
castles. Their castles themselves are but green mounds and
shattered ruins — the place that once knew them, knows them
50 no more — nay, many a race since theirs has died out and been
forgotten \.\ the very land which they occupied, with all the
authority of feudal proprietors and feudal lords. What, then»
would it avail the reader to know their names, or the evanes-
cent symbols of their martial rank ?
53 N<5w, however, no whit anticipating the oblivion which
awaited their names and feats, the champions advanced
through the lists, restraining their fiery steeds, and compel-
ling them to move slowly, while, at che same time, they
exhibited their paces, together with the grace and dexterity
<>o of the riders. As the procession entered the lists, the sound
of a wild barbaric music was heard from behind the tents of
the challengers, where the performers were concealed. It was
of Eastern origin, having been brought from the Holy Land ;
and the mixture of the cymbals and bells seemed to bid wel-
65 come at once, and defiance, to the knights as they advanced.
With the eyes of an immense concourse of spectators fixed
upon them, the five knights advanced up the platform upon
which the tents of the challengers stood, and there separating
themselves, each touched slightly, and with the reverse of his
70 lance, the shield of the antagonist to whom he wished to
oppose himself. The lower order of spectators in general —
nay, many of the higher class, and it is even said several of
the ladies — were rather disappointed at the champions choos-
ing the arms of courtesy. For the same sort of persons, who,
75 in the present day, applaud most highly the deepest tragedies,
were then interested in a tournament exactly in proportion
to the danger incurred by the champions engaged.
Having intimated their more pacific purpose, the champions
retreated to the extremity of the lists, where they remained
80 drawn up in a line ; while the challengers, sallying each from
his pavilion, mounted their horses, and, headed by Brian de
Bois-Guilbert, descended from the platform, and opposed
55-77. Observe the careless com-
position in this and other paragraphs.
74-77. Account for the change in
feeling.
II n
SCOTT.
393
themselves individually to the kni},'hts who had touched their
respective shields.
At the flourish of clarions and tnunpets, they slart«'d out 85
af,'ainst each other at full t;alloi) ; and such was the superior
dexterity or good fortune of the challenf;ers, that those opposed
to Bois-Guilbert, Malvoisin, and Front-de-Bo'uf, roUeil on the
{,'round. The anta^^'onist of Grantniesnil. instead of hearinj;
his lance-point fair aj^Minst tlie crest or the shielil ot his 90
enemy, swerved so much from the dir(;ct line as to break the
weapon athwart the person of his opponent —a ciriMunstance
which was accounted more disj^'raceful than that of In-iu},'
actually unhorsed; because the latter mij^ht happen from
accident, whereas the former evinced awkwardness and want ss
of management of the weapon and of the horse. The htth
knight alone maintained the honor of his party, and parted
fairly with the Knight of St. John, both splintering their
lances without advantage on either side.
The shouts of the multituile, together with the acclamatior.s .00
of the heralds, and the clangor of the trumpets, announced
the triumph of the victors, and the defeat of the vanquished.
The former retreated to their pavilions; and the latter, gather-
ing themselves up as they could, withdrew from the lists in
disgrace and dejection, to agree with their victors concerning ,05
the redemption of their arms and their horses, which, accord-
ing to the laws of the tournament, they had forfeited* The
fifth of their number alone tarried in the lists long enough to
be greeted by the applauses of the spectators, amongst whom
he retreated, to the aggravation, doubtless, of his companions' „o
mortification.
A second and a third party of kniglUs took the field ; and
although they had various success, yet, upon the whole, the
advantage decidedly remained with the challengers, not one
of whom lost his seat or swerved from his charge— misfortunes ,,5
which befell one or two of their antagonists in each encounter.
The spirits, therefore, of those opposed to them, seemed to be
considerably damped by their continued success. Three
knights only appeared on the fourth entry, who, avoiding the
shields of Bois-Guilbert and Front de Boeuf, contented them- „o
selves with touching those of the three other knights,
» i .•
394
ADVANCED READER.
VV
I i
f
who had not altCf^ether manifested the same strenj^'th and
dexterity. Tlvis pohtic selection did not alter the fortune of
the field: iiie challenj^'ers were still successful: one of their
"5 antaf,'onists was overthrown, and both the others failed in tlu
attaint — that is, in striking the helmet and shield of their
antagonist firmly and strongly, with the lance held in a direct
line, so that the weapon might break, unless the champion
was overthrown.
130 After this fourth encounter, there was a considerable pause;
nor did it appear that anyone was very desirous of renewing
the contest. The spectators nuirmured among themselves;
for, among the challengers, Malvoisin and Front-de-Breuf
were unpopular from their characters, and the others, except
135 Grantmesnil, were disliked as stranger^ and foreigners.
But none shared the general feeling of dissatisfaction so
keenly as Cedric the Saxon, who saw, in each advantage
gained by the Norman challengers, a repeated triumph over the
honor of England. His own education had taught him no skill
140 in the games of chivalry, although, with the arms of his Saxon
ancestors, he had manifested himself, on many occasions, a
brave and detei mined soldier. He looked an:.iously to
Athelstane, who had learned the accomplishments of the age,
as if desiring that he should make some personal effort to
MS recover the victory which was passing into the hands of the
Templar and his associates. But, though both stout of heart
and strong of person, Athelstane had a disposition too inert
and unambitious to make the exertions which Cedric seemed
to expect from him.
150 " The day is against England, my lord," said Cedric, in a
marked tone ; " are you not tempted to take the lance ? "
" I shall tilt to-morrow," answered Athelstane, " in the melcc ;
it is not worth while for me to arm myself to-day."
Two things displeased Cedric in this speech. It contained
155 the Norman word melee (to express the general conflict), and
it evinced some indifference to the honor of the country ; but
it was spoken by Athelstane, whom he held in such profound
136-139. But — England. What
was the state of feeling in England
at this period between the Norman
and the Saxon ?
SCOTT.
395
respect, that he would not trust liimself to canvass his motives
or his foibles. Moreover, he had no t'unv to make any re-
mark, for W.nnba thrust in his word, observing'. "It was lOo
[)etter, thouf^di scarce easier, to be the best man among a
hundred, than the best man of two."
Athelstane took the observation as a serious comjiliment ;
but Cedric, who better understood the jester's nu'aiun},\ darte«l
at him a severe and mcnacinfij look ; and lucky it was for k.5
Wamba, perhaps, that the time and place prevented his re-
ceiving, notwithstanding his place and service, more sensd)le
marks of his master's resentment.
The pause in tive tournament was still miinterrupted, ex-
cepting by the voices of the hcrahls exclaiming: "Love of 170
ladies, splintering of lances ! Stand forth, gallant knights; fair
eyes look upon your deeds ! "
The music also of the challengers breathed, from time to
time, wild bursts expressive of triumph or defiance, while the
clowns grudged a holiday which seemed to pass away in 175
inactivity, and old knights and nobles lamented in whispers
the decay of martial spirit, spoke of the triumphs ;., their
younger davs, but agreed that the land did not now supply
dames of such transcendent beauty as had animated the jousts
of former times. Prince John began to talk to his attendants 180
about making ready the banquet, and the necessity of adjudg-
ing the prize +0 Brian de l^ois-(iuilbert, who had, with a
single spear, overthrown two knights, and foiled a third.
At length, as the Saracenic music of the challengers con-
cluded one of those long and high flourishes with which they 185
had brok(>n the silence of the lists, it was answered by a
solitary trumpet, which breathed a note of defiance from the
northern extremity. All eyes were turned to see the new
champion which these sounds announced, and no sooner were
the barriers opened than he paced into the lists. As far as rgo
could be judged of a man sheathed in armor, the new
adventurer did not greatly exceed the middle size, and
seemed to be rather slender than strongly made. His suit
160-162. What was the jester's
meaning? Account for Athelstane's
interpretation. Criticise the use
made here of inverted commas.
'Wiii
■ tjM*
is 1
\l
' ^
ili i
1 ;
fin'"'
ilii.i.
i
!|
3y(>
ADVANCED KI-AI)I:R.
of armor was formed of steel, richly inlaid with ^old, and tlu
195 device on his shield was a yoim^^ oak tree pulled up by tlu
roots, with the Spanish word Dcsdicluuh), sif^nifyin;^' Dis-
inherited, lie was mounted on a gallant black horse, and
as he passed throuf^di the lists he gracefully saluted the Prince
and the ladies by lowering his lance. The dexterity with
200 which he managed his 4eed, and something of youthful grace
which he ili splayed in his maimer, won him the favor of the
multitude, which some of the lower classes expressed by
calling out, "Touch Ralph deVipont's shield— touch the Hospi-
taller's shield ; he Jias the least sure seat, he is your cheapest
205 bargain."
The champion, moving onward amid these well-meant
hints, ascended the i)latform by the sloping alley which led to
it from the lists, and, to the astonishment of all present, riding
straight up to the central pavilion, struck, with the sharp
jioend of his spear, the shield of Brian de Bois-Guilbert until it
rung again. All stood ristonished at his presumption, but
none more than the icioubted knight whom he had thus
defied to mortal combat, and who, Httle expecting so rude a
challenge, was standing careleL-Rlv at the door of the pavilion.
215 " Have you confessed yoursell, brother," said the Templar,
" and have you heard mass this morning, that you peril your
life so frankly?"
" I am fitter to meet death than thou art," answered the
Disinheritetl Knight ; for by this time the stranger had re-
220 corded himself in the books of the tourney.
"Then take your place in the lists," said Bois-Guilbert,
"and look your last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt
sleep in paradise."
"Gramercy for thy courtesy," replied the Disinherited
"s Knight, "and to requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse
and a new lance, for by my honor you will need both."
Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined his
horse backward down the slope which he had ascended, and
compelled him in the same manner to move backward through
199-205. The dexterity—bargain.
Rewrite so as to avoid the disagree-
able repetition. (13, II., i, 9.)
208-211. Distinguish the act de-
scribed here from that described in
II. 69-71.
'I I
SCOTT.
yn
Id, and the
up by til.
fyinj( Dis
horse, and
the Prince
terity with
tliful f^racc
ivor of the
)ressed by
the Hosui-
ir cheapest
well-meant
hich led to
;ent, ridinj^^
the sharp
>ert until it
ption, but
had thus
so rude a
e pavilion.
^ Templar,
peril your
iwered the
^r had re-
5-Guilbert,
thou shalt
isinheritcd
resh horse
th."
reined his
nded, and
d through
the act de-
iescribed in
the lists, till he reached tiie northern extremity, wlune he ^i^
remained stationary, in expectation of his anl.igonist. This
f.at of horsemanshij) again attracted the applause ot tin-
"lultilude.
-fowever incensed at his adversary for tlic precautions
v.-hu ' he recommended. Urian de Hois-Cuiibert did not ^r,
negU.'-t his advice; for his honor was too lu-.irly concerned
U. 'H'rmit his neglecting any means wliich might ensure victory
over Ins presumptuous opponent, lie cliang.'d Ins hois.' lor
-I proved and fresh one of great strength and spirit. I le chose
a new and a tough spear, lest the wood of the loruu-r might .v-
have been strained in the previous encounters he had suslaiiud.
Lastly, he laid asidi- hisshicKl. which had received some little
damage, and received another from his s.iuires. llis hist
had only borne the general device of his rider, representing
two knights riding upon one horse, an emblem expressive ot .45
the original humility and poverty of the Templars, (pialities
which they had since exchanged iox the arrogance and wealth
that hnallv occasioned their suppression. Hois-(nulberl s
uew shield' bore a raven in full ilight. holding m its claws a
skull, and bearinr the motto. Gare Ic Corhcau. =5°
When the i^"o champions stood opposed to each other
at the two extremities of the lists, the public expectation was
strained to the highest pitch. Few augured the possibility
that the encounter could terminate well for the Disinhentec
Knight, yet his courage and gallantry secured the general good .53
wishes of the spectators.
The trumpets had no sooner given the signal, than the
champions vanished from their posts with the speed of light-
ning, and closed in the centre of the lists with the shock of a
thunder-lx^h. The lances burst into shivers up to the very .6^
grasp, and it seemed at the moment that both knights had
fallen, for the shock had made each horse recoil backwards
upon its haunches. The address of the riders recovered their
steeds by use of the bridle and spur; and having glared on
each other for an instant with eyes which seemed to flash .65
fire through the bars of their visors, each made a demivolte,
and, retiring to the extremity of the lists, received a fresh
lance from the attendants.
398
ADVANCED READER.
fi I
'!H
!•
h:
J ! ^
275
A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarfs and
,70 handkerchiefs, and general acclamations, attested the interest
taken by the spectators in this encounter : the most equal as
well as the best performed, which had graced tiie day iilit
no sooner had the knights resumed their station, than the
clamor of applause was hushed into a silence so deep and so
dead, that it seemed the multitude were afraid even to breathe
A few minutes' pause having been allowed, that the comba-
tants and their horses might recover breath. Prince John
with his truncheon signed to the trumpets to sound the onset
The champions a second time sprung from tlieir stations and
,80 closed in the centre of the lists, with the same speed, the same
dexterity, the same violence, but not the same equal fortune
as before.
In this second encounter, the Templar aimed at the centre
of his antagonist's shield, and struck it so fair and forcibly
,85 that his spear went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight
reeled in his saddle. On the other hand, that champion had
m the beginning of his career, directed the point of his lance
towards Bois-Guilberfs shield, but changing his aim almost
m the moment of encounter, he addressed it to the helmet
,,„ a mark more difficult to hit, but which, if attained, rendered'
the shock more irresistible. Fair and true he hit the Norman
on the visor, where his lance's point kept hold of the bars
Yet, even at this disadvantage, the Templar sustained his
high reputation ; and had not the girths of his saddle burst
2g, he might not have been unhorsed. As it chanced, however'
saddle, horse and man rolled on the ground under a cloud
01 dust.
To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was
to the Templar scarce the work of a moment ; and, stun- with
3^ madness, both at his disgrace and at the acclamations with
which It was hailed by the spectators, he drew his sword
and waved it in defiance of his conqueror. The Disinherited
Knight sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his sword.
The marshals of the field, however, spurred their horses be-
3,3 tween them, and reminded them that the laws of the tourna-
ment did not, on the present occasion, permit this species of
«" ^counter.
It »M
SCOTT.
399
"We shall meet again, I trust," aid the Templar, casting,'
a resentful glance at his antagonist, "and where thero are
none to separate us."' 310
"If we do not,"" said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault
shall not be mi: e. On foot, or horseback, with spear, with
axe, or with sword, I am alike ready to encounter thee."
More and angrier words would have been exchanged, but
the marshals, crossing their lances betwixt them, conipelU-d 315
them to separate. The Disinherited Knight returned to his
hrst station, and Bois-Guilbert to his tent, where he remained
for the rest of the day in an agony of despair.
Without alighting from his horse, the concpieror calleil for
■ a bowl of wine, and opening the beaver, or lower part of his 3^0
helmet, announced that he (luafted it " To all true luiglish
hearts, and to the confusion of foreign tyrants." He then
commanded his trumpet to sound a dehance to the challengers,
and desired a herald to announce to them that he should
make no election, but was willing to encounter them in the 3^5
order in which they pleased to advance against him.
The gigantic Front-de-Bceuf, armed in sable armor, was the
first who took the field. He bore on a white shield a black
bull's head, half defaced by the numerous encounters which
he had undergone, and bearing the arrogant motto. Care, 330
adsiini. Over this champion the Disinherited Knight obtained
a slight but decisive advantage. Both knights broke their
lances fairly, but Front-de-B(i.Hif, who lost a stirrup in the
encounter, was adjudged to have the disadvantage.
In the stranger's third encounter with Sir Philip Malvoisin, 335
he was equally successful, striking that baron so forcibly on
the casque, that the laces of the helmet broke, and Malvo'sm,
only saved from falling by being unhelmeted, was deck.red
vanquished like his companions.
In his fourth combat with De Grantmesnil, the Disinherited 34°
Knight showed as much courtesy as he had hitherto evinced
courage and dexterity. De Grantmesnils horse, which was
young and violent, reared and plunged in the course of the
career so as to disturb the rider's aim, and the stranger, de-
clining to take the advantage which this accident aftorded 345
him, raised his lance, and passing his antagonist without
m ■■■]
''ill >'
400
ADVANCED READER.
touching him, wheeled his horse and rode back again to his
own end of the hsts, offering his antagonist, by a herald, the
chance of a second encounter. This De Grantmesnil declined
350 avowing himself vanquished as much by the courtesy as b\'
the address of his opponent.
Ralph de \^ipont summed up the list of the stranger's
trunnphs, being hurled to the groimd with such force that
the blood gushed from his nose and his mouth, and he was
355 borne senseless from the lists.
The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous
award of the Prince and marshals, announcing that day's
honors to the Disinherited Knight
" Sir Disinherited Knight," said Prince John, " since that
360 ,s the only title by which we can address you, it is now your
duty, as well as privilege, to name the fair lady who, as
Queen of Honor and of Love, is to provide over next lay's
festival. If, as a stranger in our land, you should require the
aid of other judgment to guide youi own, we can only say
365 that yVlicia, the daughter of our gallant knight Waldemar
Fitzurse, has at our court been long held the first in beauty
as in place. Nevertheless, it is your undoubted prerogative
to confer on whom you please this crown, by the delivery of
which to the lady of your choice, the election of to-morrow's
370 queen will be formal and complete. Raise your lance ! "
The Knight obe^'ed ; and Prince John placed upon its point
a coronet of green satin, having around its edge a circlet of
gold, the upper edge of which was relieved by arrow-points
and hearts placed interchangeably, like the strawberry leaves
375 and balls upon a ducal crown
The Disinherited Knight passed the gallery close to that of
the Prince, in which the Lady Alicia was seated in the full
pride of triumphant beauty, and, pacing forwards as slowly as
he ]iad hitherto rode swiftly around the lists, he seemed to
380 exercise his right of examining the numerous fair faces which
adorned that splendid circle.
It was worth while to see the different conduct of the
beauties who underwent tins examination, during the time it
was proceeding. Some blushed, some assumed an air of pride
385 and dignity, some looked straight forward, and essayed to
SCOTT.
401
seem utterly unconscious of what was j^oinjj; on, some ilrew
l)ack in alarm, which was, perhaps, afl'ectetl, some endeavoured
to forbear smiling,', and there were two or three who lau},died
outright. There were also some who dropped their veils over
their charms; but, as the Wardour Manuscript says, these ^
were fair ones often years' standing, it may be supposed that,
having had their full share of such vanities, they were willing
to withdraw their claim, in order to give a fair chance to .ne
rising beauties of the age.
At length the champion paused beneath the balcony in jo=
which the Lady Rowena was placed, and the expectation of
the spectators was excited to the uttermost
Whether from indecision or some other motive for hesitation,
the champion of the day remained stationary for more than a
minute, while the eyes of the silent audience were riveted ^^^
upon his motions; and then, gradually and gracefully sinking
the point of his lance, he deposited the coronet which it
supported at the feet of the fair Rowena. The trumpets
instantly sounded, while the heralds proclanued the Lady
Rowena the Queen of Beauty and of Love for the ensuing ^05
day, menacing with suitable penalties those v/ho should be
disobedient to her authority. They then rep(.>ated their cry of
'' Larg-sse," to which Cedric, in the height of his joy, replied
by an ample donative, and to which Athelstane, though less
promptly, added one equally large.
There v.as some murmuring among the damsels of Norman
descent, who were as much unused to see the preference
given to a Saxon beauty, as the Norman nobles were to
sustain defeat in the games of chivalry which they themselves
had introduced. But these sounds of disaftection were
drowned by the popular shout of " Long live the Lady
Rowena, the chosen and lawful Queen of Love and of
Beauty!" To which many in the lower area added, " Long
live the Saxon Princess ! Long live the race of the immortal
Alfred!"
415
430
BB
h:'i ;
'} ':■
I'
(ill
It'
f
1
!;|
402
»5
ao
ADVANCED READER.
ROSA13ELLE.
Oh listen, listen, ladies gay !
No haughty feat of arms I tell ;
Soft is the note, and sad the lay
That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.
" Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew !
And, gentle lady, deign to stay !
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,
Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.
" The blackening wave is edged with white ;
To inch and rock the sea-mews fly :
The fishers have heard the Water-sprite,
Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh.
" Last night the gifted Seer did view
A wet shroud swathed round lady gay ;
Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch ;
Why cross the gloomy firth to-day ? "
" 'Tis not because Lord Lindesaj''s heir
To-night at Roslin leads the bail,
But that my lady mother there
Sits lonely in her castle hall.
Observe that the author imitates |
the simple vigor of the old ballad.
"The pictures tell their own story, '
and tell it so vividly and thrillingly
that nothing more is needed. The
intensity of the piece would be de- \
stroyed by any words of commisera- ,
tion." Observe also that though the
"hoar antiquity " is " deftly masked,"
modern art shows iiself in the elabo-
ration of the descriptions, and the \
choice language and carefully con- !
structed sentences. Note, as deter- '
minative of the time and circum-
stances of the ballad, the prevalence
of Norman-French words and of 1
references to Norman-French cus-
toms. Describe the metrical struc-
ture of the poem.
1-4. Who is supposed to sing this
ballad ? U ndcr what circumstances ?
5. Note the simple directness of
the opening. Compare with the
opening of the Ancient Mariner's
tale.
17-24. Who now speaks ? Observe
that the sad fate of "lovely Rosa-
belle" is rendered more pathetic by
the motive that ar.iuateil her in
crossing " the gloomy firth."
SCOTT.
" 'Tis not because the riiiif they ride,
And Lindesaj' at the riu}; rides well,
But that my sire the wine will chide
If 'tis not filled by Rosabelle."
403
O'er Roslin on that dreary nipjht
A wondrous blaze was seen to ^dtain ;
'Twas broader than the watchfue's lij^ht,
And redder than the bright moonbeam.
2$
It glared on Roslin's castled rock,
It ruddied all the copse- wood glen :
'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,
And seen from cavern'd liawlhornilen.
30
Seeni'd all on fire Lhat chapel proud
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie,
Each Baron, for a sable shroud,
Siieath'd in his iron panoply.
35
Seem'd all on fire within, around,
Deep sarristy and altar's pale ;
Shone every pillar foliage-bound.
And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail.
4»
Blazed battlement and pinnet high,
Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair :
So -cill they blaze, whey *"ate is nigh
The lordly line of hi,'.; Saint Clnir.
There are twenty of Roslin's ',r ons bold
Lie buried within that proud chapelle :
Each one the holy vault doth hold,
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle.
45
25-44. The second picture is now i 41-5^. Observe the cfiective ur.':- of
pninted in vivid colors. Note the I Contrast in thenc stan^a^ Wli '=;
Anaphora and Hyperbaton. | there Middle Rhyme in U. 49 and
I 51? (13, III., 2.)
404
AD FJ NC.ED K EA DEK.
so
And each Saint Clair was buried there,
With cansile, with book, and with knell ;
BiU the sea-cave;; rung, and the wHd waves sung
Tlie (h'-ge of lovely Rosa!), lie.
1
I. What influences )f Scott's perioii do the preceding selections
exemplify ?
■;. What is meant by a " novel " ' Give an account of the history of this
clnss of Literature, defining Scott's position in its development. (See
Prim, of Enfr. Lit., pp. 128-131.) What form of composition has it largely
replaced in modern times.'
3. Refer to 11. 55-60, 62-65. r.8-69, 74, 119. 160-162, 169-170, 199-205, 211,
224-226, 240, 242-243, 244, .:oi, and 340-342, in " The Tournament," and
show that Scott is not a poli-hcd writer.
4. Describe each of the K >r parts into which "Rosabelle" may be
divided. Show how they are related to one another, and to the main idea
of the poem.
5. Show by reference to the poem that " Rosabelle " is
" VounK-eyed poesy
All deftly masked in hoar Antiquity."
6. What data does " Rosabelle " present whereby we may determine
approximately the date of the composition of the ballad, and the period
during which the events therein narrated are represented as taking place ?
7. Refer to Critical estimate, pp. 389-390, and show to what extent the
preceding selections from Scott illustrate the peculiarities of his genius as
stated therein.
8. Memorize " Rosabelle."
Composition.
Reproduce " The First Day of the Tournament of Ashby-de-la-Zouche."
Hnf I i ;
' selections
w
la-Zouche."
BYRON.
Biographical. — George Ciordon Byron was born in London, January
22nd, 1788. In 1791, on the death of his father, who was a dissolute cap-
tain in the Guards, the mother and son went to live at Aberdeen, and seven
years afterwards, on the death of his great-uncle, young Byron succeeded
to the title and the family estates, His mother and he then removed to 5
the family seat at Newstead, near Nottingham. After attending school at
Dulwich, and at Harrow, Byron passed in 1S05 to Trinity College, Cam-
bridge. Here, although he studied little, he read a great deal that was not
prescribed in the University course. While at Cambridge, and when only
nineteen years of age, he published his first volume of poetry, a criticism 10
of which in the Edinburfrl, Rrrifw stung him into a reply that attracted
a great amount of attention. Soon afterwards he left ICngland, visiting,
among other places, Greece and Turkey. Then appeared his first two
cantos of CkiUr Hamhi The poem pr'xlured an unusual impression on
the public mind. To use his own words, "he awoke one morning and 15
found himself famous." On his return home, in 1812, he took his seat in the
House of Lords, and was for a time the lion of the literary world. He
4o6
ADVANCED READER.
lived, however, in an almost continuous round of dissipation. In 1S15
he married Miss Milhanke, but within a year a separation took place.
30 Byron now left Knjjland, never to return. The people had taken his wife's
part against him, and he who had been their idol had been hissed in the
streets of London. But, whatever may have been his social or domestic
peculiarities, his imagination was active, and poems appeared in rapid suc-
cession, many of them evidencing the excesses in which he indulged, as
as well as the influence of the scenery through which his wanderings led
him. In 1S23 the Greeks were trying to throw oft the yoke of Turkey.
Byron's enthusiasm was aroused, and he resolved to aid them with money
and with counsel. He displayed great ability in bringing order out of
confusion at Missolonghi, whither he had repaired; but, unfortunately,
30 just as a better life seemed to be dawning on him, he fell ill and died on
the 19th of April, 1824.
Principal Works. — Hours of IdUncss (1807) : This juvenile production
having been unsparingly criticised in the Etiinhnrfrlt Rcvicic, Byron replied
by a vigorous satire, full of stinging epigrams, entitled English Bards mid
35 Scotch Reviewers. But " his genius recei%'ed its first true awakening upon
his travels. Greece made him a poet, and he returned to England with
two Cantos of Childe Harold ready for publication." These early cantos
appeared in 1812, the third canto in 1816, and the fourth in i8i8. The
whole poem is one of the author's best, but Cantos III. and IV. are loftier
40 in character than the earlier ones. The Giaour (1813) was followed by a
series of Oriental and other Tales, The Bride of Ahydos, The Corsair, Lara,
Siege of Corinth, Parisina, Prisoner of Chillon, Mazeppa, Beppo, and The
Island. The sixteen cantos of Don Juan appeared at various dates. By-
ron's dramas are Manfred, Marino Falicro, Sardanapalits, The Ttco Foscari,
^5 Werner, Cain, The Deformed Transformed, and Heaven and Earth. He
wrote also Hebre7i> Melodies : some satires, the best of which is the Vision of
yndgment ; and a large number of occasional pieces, many of which are
remarkable for beauty of diction and intensity of feeling.
Critical. — The revolutionary movement in Literature initiated by
50 Cowper and Burns was carried out by two classes of writers. On the one
side were Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey, who in their maturity
submitted themselves to self-imposed law, and conformed to establishes'
institutions: on the other, were those who acknowledged no law but
their own will, and whose sympathies were with defiant independence.
55 Of the latter, Byron and Shelley were the master spirits. Few writers
have stamped their individuality on their works so remarkably as Byron.
His best verse is lyrical. All his poems are intensely subjective. In Hi.,
dramas, the central figure is Byron; in his epics, Byron is always the
hero — by turns, sensual and passionate, pruiid and defiant, cynical and
60 sceptical, moody and despondent. But, though his characters are monoto-
nous, his genius is versatile. Passionate energy is its most striking feature.
His style is fluent, melodious, and intense; but often abrvr diffuse, and
Wti I!
BYRON.
407
unequal. His langua^t! is remarkable for variety, brilliaiicy, ami si'iHlmi-
tious force: he is especially fond of rhetorical forms, symmetrical phrases,
and balanced antithesis. He professed, indeed, to be an admirer of I'ope, 6%
and to despise the "shabby gentility" of his own contemporaries; but he
lacks the finish of the former, and his ijuick sense of l)eaiity inadi? him an
unconscious imitator of the latter. Violent and madly sensitive himsi'lf,
he excelled in painting the strongest passions of our nature, but the canvas
is relieved by pictures whose tenderness anil delicacy are beyond praise. 70
He is most fascinating in his tales and minor poems. There he displays
a grace, an intensity, and a romantic picturesipieness th.it entrance the
youthful reader. In constructive power he is singularly defective. He
wrote only when the fit was on him : nature had not gifii'd him w ith the
patient concentration of the true artist. Don jfuaii is the most marked 75
expression of what is known as the Byronic style — a medley of descrip-
tion and narration, cynicism and r'isanthropy, wit and satire, humor and
patho.s, nobility and sensuality, re. ism and imagination, epicurean phil-
osophy and hopeless scepticism; all couched in nervous language, and
flowing, plastic verse. Hyron was a str. . lUixture of opposite qualities. 80
Much that he has written is licentious in .one Virtue he often disparages,
and vice he as often dignifies. But side by side with this Dead Sea fruit,
"which tempts the eye, and turns to ashes on the lips," we find l)ursts of
tenderness and pity, and the expression of high and holy feelings, of pure
and noble aspirations. S'
THE PRISONER OF CHILLON.
iNTRODtJCTORY — The following poem, written during two days' detention
(June 26 and 27, 1816,) at Ouchv, L ; bad weather, was suggested to the
author by the sight of the dungecn cf Thillon. There really had been a
prisoner, named Francois de Uounivard, confined there from 13.^0 to i5.^'>;
but when Byron wrote the piec, he had little, if any, knowle(lge of the
historical character. Bonnivard had been imprisoned for political, not
religious, reasons — for having supported the cause of the (lenevese against
the Duke of Savoy — and he had no brothers who shared his fate. The
only resemblance between his circumstances and those of the hero of the
poem is the imprisonment in Chillon.
1.
My hair is gray, but not witli years;
Nor grew it white
In a single niglit,
As men's have grown from sudden fears:
f.iTFR.\RY. — Observe throughout and the skill with whi >':e author
the n lologue the sincerity and in- portrays the gradual ,;i .^ »h of the
tensity of the feeling, the vigor and I'risoner'sbi .imbingand paralyzing
affluen of til.: diction, the careless misery. Descr.be the m :'rical struc-
strv.v,; - ! ol some 01 i passages, ture.
li
W' :
H •-"-
1
ija.
»5
ao
as
30
35
408 ADVANCED READER.
Mv '•■ -bs are bowed, thoii'^di not with toil,
Hut Mistiii with a vile repose,
For they ha\c been a duiif^'eon's spoil,
And mine has been the fate of those
To whom the goodly earth and air
Are banned, and barred — forbidden fare;
T^ut this was for my father's faith
I stilTered cliains and courted death:
That father perished at the stake
For tenets he would not forsake;
And for the same his lineal race
In darkness found a d- '^llinjf place.
We were seven — who now are one,
Six in youth, and one in age,
Finish'd as they had begun,
Proud of Persecution's rage:
One in fire, and two in field.
Their belief with blood have sealed,
^)ying as their father died,
I'^or the Cod their foes denied;
Three were in a dungeon cast,
Of whom this wreck is left the last.
II. .
There are seven pillars of Gothic mould.
In f '.illon's dungeons deep and old.
There are seven colunms, massy and gray,
D' n with a dull unprisoned ray,
A mbeam which hath lost its way,
And through the evice and the cleft
Of the thick wall is fallen and left;
Creeping o'er the floor so damp,
Like a marsh's meteor lamp:
And in each pillar there is a ring.
And in each ring there is a chain ;
1-26. What is the percentage in
this stanza of words of Anjzlo-Saxon
origin ? Describe the effect on the
style, (ij, II., I.)
1 1- 1 2. this-— death. Comment on
this construction.
18. Who is the " one in age " ?
27-47. Observe the skill with which
the author dwells on the leading
thought.
M II
liVRON.
That iron is a cankoriiiK thin^;.
For in these Hmbs its tet-th remain,
With marks that will not wear away,
Till I liave done with this new day,
Wiiich now is p.iinfnl to thest' eyes,
Which have not scei\ the sun so rise
For years — I cannot count thtin o'er!
I lost their lon<; and heavy srore
When my last brother drooped lUil <lied,
And I lay livni},' by his side.
40()
40
4)
III.
They chained us each to a cohnnn stone.
And we were three— yet each alone!
We could not move a siuL^le pace.
We could not see each other's face.
But with that pale and livid li^ht
That made us strangers in our sij^ht :
And thus together, yet apart.
Fettered in hand, but joined in heart,
'Twas St 'I su-.ne solace in the dearth
Of the pure elen Mits of earth,
To hearkeii to each other's speec h.
And each turn comforter to each
With some new hope, or legend old,
Or song heroically bold;
But even these at length grew cold.
Our voices took a dreary tone.
An echo of the dungeon-stone,
A grating sound— not full and free
As they of yore were wont to be :
It might be fancy — but io me
They never sounded like our own.
50
55
te
65
41 What " new day " .•• See stan- 1 when bound apart in the living tomb,
za XIV and of the f,'radual decay of their
.^Het'scq. "This picture of the first cheery fortitude, is full of pity and
feelings ol the three gallant brothers, agony.
Ih.
1 M
ff ' 1
\
410
70
73
80
90
9S
ADl'ANCED READER.
IV.
I was the eldest of the three;
And to uphold and cheer the rest
I oii,r|,t t„ do -and did— my best
And each did well in his def,'ree.
The youngest, whom my father loved
Because our mother's brow was given
T() hnn-with eyes as blue as heaven-
For Inni my soul was sorely moved.
And truly might it be distrest
To see such bird i. such a nest;
For he was beautiful as day—
(When day was beautiful to me
As to young eagles, being free)—
A polar day, which will not see
A sunset till its summer's gone,
Its sleepless summer of long litrht
The snow-clad offspring of the sun :'
And thus he was as ,)ure and bright.
And m his natural spirit gay.
With tears for nought but others' ills,
And then they flowed like mountain rills,
Unless lie could assuage the woe
Which he abhorred to view below.
V.
The other was as pure of mind,
But formed to cond.at with his'kind-
Strong in his frame, and of a mood '
^^ hich 'gainst the world in war had stood
And perished in the foremost rank
With J )y— but not in chains to pine:
71- oughttodo. Comment on this Ss snow HaH c„« r %• • u-
construction. What tenseis-ou^ht •' descrip?°n "' ^'"'^'^'^e this
7G. For him. Cf. 1. 73, and see El'l7nsi's"'7viVP'"^^ ^"'"f"'*"'^ '^^
(12, IV :: ) '^ ^^^ t-Hipsis. Criticise the construction
^ ••'•■' of the sentence.
BYRON.
411
His spirit withered with their clank,
I saw it silently decline-
And so perchance in sooth did mine;
But yet I forced it on to cheer
Those relics of a home so dear.
He was a hunter of the hills,
Had followed there the deer and wolf;
To hun this duuf^eon was a >;ulf,
And fettered feet the worst of ills.
105
VI.
Lake Lenian lies by Chillon's walls:
A thousand feet in depth below
Its massy waters meet and flow;
Thus much the fathom-line was sent
From Chillon's snow-white battlement.
Which round about the wave enthralls:
A double dungeon wall and wave
Have made— and like a living,' },aave.
Below the surface of the lake
The dark vault lies wherein we lay—
We heard it ripple ni{;ht and day:
Soundinf,' o'er our heads it knocked;
And I have felt the winter's spray
Wash throuf^di the bars when winds were high
And wanton in the happy sky;
And then the very rocks hath rocked,
And I have felt it shake, unshocked,
Because I could have smiled to see
The death that would have set me free.
VII.
I said my nearer brother pined,
I said his mighty heart declined,
107-125. Observe how this descrip- and criticise the poet's Taste. (13
tion iiitciisifies our conception of the 1 1 1 ., 3 )
lonely isolation of the I'risoners.
115
tao
135
12() ctscq. Observe tlirou^hout the
increasing depth of the misery. A
f^loom settl'S on th<' reader as well as
122-123. Comment on these lines, on the captives.
121. happy. Why this epithet?
412
I .
I
«3o
«3S
140
'45
"SO
iS5
ADVAXCED READER.
He loathed and put away his food •
It was not that 'twas coarse and rude
I'or we were used to hunters' fare
And for the like had little care •
The milk drawn from the mountain ^oat
Was changed for water from the moat;
Our bread was such as captives' tears
Have moistened many a thousand years
Since man first pent his fellow-m^n
Like brutes within an iron den :
But what were these to us or him ?
These wasted not his heart or limb •
My brother's soul was of that mould
Which in a palace had grown cold,
Had his free breathing been denied
The range of the ste.p mountain's side.
But why delay the truth ?— he died
I saw, and could not hold his head'
Nor reach his dying hand-nor dead- ■
riiough hard I strove, but strove in vain
lo rend and gnash my bonds in twa'.. '
He died; and they unlocked his chr.^n
And scooped for iiim a shallow grave
Even irom the cold earth of our cave
I begg'd them, as a boon, to lay
His corse in dust whereon the day
Might shine ; it was a foolish thought
But then within my brain it wrought,
That even in death his free-born breast
in such a dungeon could not rest.
131- the like. Explain 1 t», ^
not insensate clay.
156. Cf. Coleridge's
" A";i '° \ V""'' ^^''"' ""<• we love
Doth work I>kcm.i.lness in, he brain."
thif?' *°"^°'"^'™- Why expressed
148- The original MS, had "To
break or bite. ' Discuss the readings.
'5-V^<^3- Intense feeling ,i-., s not
perm.t of reason. A. first we do not
realize the change pro liiced by death.
156-157. Cf. Gray's
and Chaucer's
" Vet in our ashes cold is fire yrecken."
BYRON
413
I might have spared my idle prayer:
They coldly laughed—and laid him there
The flat and tmfless earth above
The being we so much did love;
His empty chain above it leant, —
Such murder's fitting monument !
160
V 1 1 1 .
But he, the favorite and the flowi-r,
Most cherished since his natal hour,
His mother's image in fair face,
The infant love of all his race.
His martyred father's dearest thought,
My latest care, for whom I sought
To hoard my life, that his might be
Less wretched now, and one day free :
He, too, who yet had held untired,
A spirit natural or inspiretl-
He, too, was struck, and day by day
Was withered on the stalk away.
O God! it is a fearful thing
To see the human soul take wing
Ir any shape, in any mood: —
I've seen it rushing forth in blood,
I've seen it on the breaking ocean
Strive with a swollen convulsive motion,
I've seen the sick and ghastly bed
Of Sin delirious with its dread;
But these were horrors — this was woe
Unmixed with such,— but sure and slow.
He faded, and so calm and meek,
So softly worn, so sweetly v/eak.
.65
170
175
iSo
185
162. empty chain. (12. IV., 35) ^nd sh..w the force of " Was with-
164-230. Observe the pathetic ^red. ^, ,, , \
touches in this stanza, and the de- ; x86-i«7. See (13, HI. i ■'^"d ^ )
scription of the Prisoner's frantic :86-204. Note the tender pathos
agony, ending' in duli resignation. ■ and the excjuisitely chosen words of
175. Comment on the Metaphor, this passage.
414
I go
Iff.. :
*9S
aoo
aos
2IO
215
Bao
ADVANCED READER.
So tearless, yet so tender,— kind
And grieved for those he left behind •
With all the while a cheek whose bloom
W as as a mockery of the tomb,
\Vhose tints as gently sunk away
As a departing rainbow's ray •
An eye of most transparent light.
That almost made the dungeon bright
And not a word of murmur-not
A groan o'er his untimely lot •—
A little talk of better days, '
A httle hope my own to raise,
For I was sunk in silence— lost
In th.s last loss, of all the most;
And then the s.ghs he would suppress
Of faintmg nature's feebleness.
More slowly drawn, grew less and less:
l>-stened, but I could not hear;
called, fori was wild with fear-
I knew 'twas hopeless, but my dread
\\ould not be thus admonished.
called, and thought I heard a sound-
I hurst my cham with one strong bound
And rushed to him;-I found him no
/ only stirred in this black spot.
/ only lived—/ onlv drew
The accursed brcat'h of dungeon-dew •
The last-thesouK-,he dearest Hnk
Between me and the eternal brink,
},^.^'t r""^ "'" '° "^>' ^^'^•"^' ^ace,
\\ as broken m this fatal place
One on the earth, and one beneath-
My brothers-both had ceased to breathe-
I 00k that hand which lay so st.Il; .
Alas, my own was full as chill •
I had not strength to stir, or s;nve.
But felt that I was still alive-
180. those.
number.
Comment on
""'re^elai ''■'''""■ ■■•-'"»I"-"y
BYRON.
415
A frantic feelinf:^, when we know
That what we love shall ne'er he so.
I know not why,
I could not die;
I had no earthly hope — but faith,
And that forbade a selfish death,
IX.
What next befell me then and there
I know not well — I never knew: —
First came the loss of lifj^ht, and air,
And then of darkness, too.
I had no thou<?ht, no feeling— none;
Among the stones I stood a stone.
And was, scarce conscious what I wist,
As shrubless crags within the mist ;
For all was blank, and bleak, and gray,
It was not night — it was not day;
It was not even the dungeon-light,
So hateful to my heavy siglit.
But vacancy absorbing space,
And fixedness — without a place:
There were no stars, — no earth, — no time.
No check, — no change, — no good, — no crime,
But silence, and a stirless breath
Which neither was of life nor death;
A sea of stagnant idleness.
Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless!
335
330
a35
340
»45
350
X.
A light broke in upon my brain —
It was the carol of a bird;
It ceased, and then it came again,
The sweetest song ear ever heard ;
229-230 Explain the meaning of pare his hmeliness with that of the
this passace. Ancient Mariner, pp. },h^■^G^ 1. 232-
X, xu- . _i A. 271 This stanza is a niarkcMl exam-
sc^i^i^rofrLrurrjl,'; .t , pfe or .he .«^.r. co,„,„a,„l „( ,a„.
has come over the I'risoner. Com- ig"^8<^-
ADVANCED READE/i.
And mine was thankful, til] niy eves
Kan over wuh the ,. lad surprisr^
And they that n.onu-nt could no't see
J vvas the mate of misery. '
But then l>y dull de.^rees came hack
Cw';"'^^^^^"^^-^^^''^^"'^! floor
I avv ^^""''''"^^•'^^'>^'^"r^^•
isavvtheghmmerofthesun
Creep.ng as ,t before had done,
^^f-it h^u,:;^;:^:-^^-.
A lovely b.rd. with a.„re urn's
Ami son,, that said a thousand t'hin.s
And seen,ed to say ti.em all for ^ ,'
never saw its like before, '
neer shall see us hkeness more-
^t seemed, like me, to want a mate
^ut was not half so desolate; '
I l<.,ojv no, if ula.e were free ''""'•
A visitant from Paradise ;
™^:r^:^^----w-e
Point /->■,» .1. . . . ~ ■ '
I'ri.so„er free I ?rom th.w*''' '' -^"^^
-''■•ch he had fSn %ernou'"'"
"272-201 nffh«.. \ ■ ""'^' "n
Cf. Tennvson-s ^^"^•'^"' Mariner."
She must weep or s.'.e*'Wni die.'.
, "'*°''« a ."'•'■se of ninety years
, .Set In.s child upon lierifMn;
Explain ,he phil„,™ph,. „f ,^, ^^,
'.hetalSl?-?-^";. <-''^.<c.se
HYKON.
I soiiictimes deeincHl th;it it inif^ht be
My brother's soul come down to me;
But tlien at last away it ilew.
Ami then 'twas mortal — well 1 knew,
For he would never tiuis have tlown,
And left me twice so doubly lone — •
Lone, — as the corse within its shroud;
Lone, — as a solitary cloud —
A single cloud on a sunny ilay.
While all the rest of heaven is clear,
A frown upon the atmosphere.
That hath no business to appear
When skies are blue and earth is gay.
XI.
A kind of change came in my fate,
My keepers grew compassionati' :
I know not what had made them so.
They were inured to sights of woe ;
But so it was: my broken chain
With links unfastened did remain,
Ant! it was liberty to stride
Along my cell from side to side.
And up ami ilown, and then athwart,
And tread it over every part,
And round the pillars one bj' one.
Returning where my walk begun ;
Avoiding only, as I trod,
My brothers' graves without a sod ;
For if I thought with heedless tread
My step profaned their lowly bed,
My breath came gaspingly and thick,
And my crushetl heart fell blind and sick.
294. Cf. Wordsworth's
" I wandi'iiil lonely as a cloud
That floats on hi^li o'er vales and hills."
417
990
'95
300
305
310
3<S
315. Cf. Cray's
"The cork's shrill rlarion, or the echoing
horn,
No more shall roiisu them from their
lowly bed."
CC
4iH
ADVANCED READER.
XII.
3M
3«S
330
I made a footing,' in the wall,
It was not tlierefrom to escape,
For I had buried one and all.
Who lovfd me in a human shape;
And the whole earth would henceforth be
A wider prison unto nic :
No child— no sire -no kin had I,
No partner in my misery.
I thouf,dit of this, and I was glad.
For thought of them had made me mad:
But I was curious to ascend
To my barred windows, and to bend
Once more, upon the mountains high,
The quiet of a loving eye.
335
340
345
3SO
XIII.
I saw them— and they were the same.
They were not changed like me in frame ;
I saw their thousand years of snow
On high—their wide long lake below.
And the blue Rhone in fullest flow;
I heard the torrents leap and gush
O'er channelled rock and broken bush;
I saw the white-walled distant town,
And whiter sails go skimming down ';
And then there was a little isle,
Which in my very face did smile.
The only one in view;
A small green isle, it seemed no more,
Scarce broader than my dungeon floor;
But in it there were three tall trees.
And o'er it blew the mountain breeze,
And by it there were waters flowing,
And on it there were young flowers growing,
Of gentle breath and hue.
327- had made. Parse.
331 The quiet — eye.
What is
meant by describing this a Words-
worthian line?
liVRON.
419
I
The fish swam by the castle wall,
And they seemed joyous each and all;
The civ^U' rode the rising' blast.
Meth()Uf,dU he never flew so fast
As then to me he seemed to ily;
And then new tears came in my eye,
And I felt troubled -and would tam
I had not left my recent chain.
And when I did descend aj^^ain.
The darkness of my dim abode
Fell on me as a iieavy load ;
It was as is a new-iluf,' ^Mave,
Closinjf o'er one we souj^dit to save;
And yet my glance, tin) nmch oppresl.
Had almost need of such a rest.
355
3ftj
365
XIV.
It mifjfht be months, or years, or days,
I kept no count— I took no note,
1 had no hope my eyes to raise.
And clear them of their dreary mote;
At last men came to set me free,
I asked not why, and recked not where,
It was at len^^th the same to me.
Fettered or fetterless to be,
1 learned to love ilespair.
And thus, when they appeared at last,
And all my bonds aside were cast.
These heavy walls to me had <j;rown
A hernntage — and all my own !
370
375
s a Words-
351-35^. Ci pp. 363-364. 11 ^7^-\
^1(1, of the 'Ancient Mariner, and j
Wordsworth s description, in " Song ;
at the Feast of Hroughain Castle, "
of the "cheerful company" that
waited on Clifford; —
" To his side the lallow-doer
Caint', ami rested without fear;
The eiiKl*'< '<"■<' i>f '«'"' •""' sea,
Stooped down to pay him tealty ;
And both the tindyiii); tisli that swim.
Through bowscale-Tarn did wait on him."
36O ft siij. < )l)strvf the paralyzing
effect of misery .iiui prolongeil c ip-
tivity. Kyron lias succeeded in shov,-
ing how noble souls sicken and die
under restraint.
377-378, Cf. Lovelace's
"Stone walls do not ,1 prison, make,
Nor iron liars .i s'.iKe .
Minds innocent and t|tiiel take
That (or a heniiitaiie."
420
380
383
39°
ADVANCED READER.
And lialf I felt as tliey were conic
To tear nie from a second home:
With sj>iders I had friendship made,
And watched tliem in their sullen trade
Had seen the mice hy moonlif,dit play,
And why slu)uld 1 feel less than they?
We all wer mmates of one place.
And I, the Monarch of each race.
Had power to kill— yet, strange to tell!
In quiet we had learned to dwell;
My ver\- chains and I f,aew frientls,
vSo much a lonj^^ connnunion tends
To make us what we are: even I
Refrained my freeilom with a sif,di.
I :
1. Classify the "Prisoner of Chillon."
2. What iiiHiiences priKluccd its metrical form ?
3. Make a list of the careless constructions in the poem, indicating the
necessary corrections. '^
. '* ^r^P'.'?'" ''^"^' 'I'scuss the following criticisms, with especial reference
to The Prisoner of Chillon " :—
"The very perfection of 'Childe Marold' makes it tame and coU\ among
the heat and animation of the rest: it is the only one in which Jiyron
IS left out It is the one grand tribute which the great rebel of the age
paid to Wordsworth. "—.l/;-s. Oliphaiit.
•'The best of Byron's earlier tales, 'The Prisoner of Chillon' and
Mazeppa, were produced after the period of his fashi..iiabk; fame when
in the (juietude of rest, he wrote with sobered feelings for himself ' Thev
owe mori-over, their greater purity of outline and sincerity of feeling to
the form of monologue adopted."— y. A. Svinoiids.
"The splendid and imperishable excellence which covers all his offences
and outweighs all his defects" is "the excellence of sincerity and
strength. —A. Su-inbunu-.
" Hvron hasa wonderful power of vividly conceiving a single incident
a single situation , of throwing himself upcm it, grasping it as if it were
w''*L;''"'' . ' ?.''' "^""^ ^'"'^ '^' ''^'"1 ''f making us see and feel it too "—
MatthiW A mold.
" Scarce a page of his verse ever aspires to perfection, hardly a stanza
will bear the minute word by word dissection which only brings into
clearer light the delicate touches of Keats or Tennyson ; his'pictures with
a big brush were never meant for the microscope."— J. Nicliol.
Composition.
I. ■VVrite a criticism, with illustrations, of the Elements and QualiMes of
Jiyron s style, referring to Critical estimate, pp. 406-407.
II, Reproduce in prose, in indirect narration, "The Prisoner of Chillon."
lUJRNS.
BiO(iR.\i'iiiCAi.. — Robert Hums \v;is born nr.ir Ayr. Scotland, January
25th, 1759, His father was a small farmer, who, tliouK'li in embarrassed
circumstances, did not let his difliculties prevent him from Kiving his s<»n
a respectable education. After yonuK Ibirns's school days were over, he
worked on the farm along with his f.uher and brotlujrs, reading such s
books as chance threw in his way, and revealing every now and then
his poetical talents. Among the authors to whom he had access were
Spenser, Skakespeare, Pope, Dryden, Adilison, Sterne, and Thomson.
To his study of these we may attribute the readiness with which he ex-
pressed himself in classical luiglish. On his faliier's death, in 17S1, the 10
children took a farm together, but nnhap|)ily the venture proved unfor-
tuna' It was during this period that Hums made the acfjuaintance of
Jt.ai! . .aour. No less important in the development of his genius was the
cont '■ ersy going on in tht; church between the " New Lights," or the
Rati. Oists, and the " Auld I,ights," or the llvaugelists. All the poet's 15
powers wore thus stirred within him —wit and humor no less than the pas-
sionate earnestness of love. He became famous in his neighborhood, but
misfoi'Lunes cj-n.-- upon him, and he resolved to go to the West Indies. To
raise money lor this purpose he had a volume of poems published at
"fti
422
.l/)r.l XCE/i KKA PER.
\", I
!!!'i:
I I
'L i -...■
30 Kilmarnock, but, when on the [loiiit of scttirif,' sail from rirconock, a letter
induced him to K" t<> KdinburKh instead. Here he was received in the
highest literary circles, rather as an object of wonder and curiosity than
as one of the first lyrical poets of the world. Nor did this visit stimulate
his >,'enius. It, however, secured him /"soo, the proceeds of a second
as edition of liis poems. With this money he took a lease, in 17HS, of
the farm of Mllisland, near Dumfries, marrying shortly afterwards his
" bonnie Jean." luUnbur^h friends had found him a position in the
Excise; but the new office only stren),'thened his tendency to flissipation.
I'resently he ^ave up the farm, which was proving a failure, and removed
30 to Dumfries. Here matters K'rew worse. He became more and more
addicted to drink. This and his sympathy with the French Kevolution
prevented his advanci luent in oHice, and, it is said, even threatened to
deprive him of the one he held. Although he had intermissions of pure
and noble life, he was unable to break off his habits of intemperance, and
J5 died physically a wreck, July 21st, I7(j6, before he reached the age of
thirty-.seven.
Works.— Several editions of Hurns's poems appeared during his life-
time, the first at Kilmarnock in i7.S(), and the second at Kdinburgh in the
following year. After his death, an edition with his letters was published
40 in i.Soo by Dr. Currie. His poetical productions were composed at various
dates between 1774 and 171X) ; but they are distributed over two periods, the
first marked by the publication of his poems at Kilmarnock and luiiuburgh,
and the second being the last years of his life, spent chiefly at blllisland
and Dumfries. To tiie first period belong Tin- Ihath and Dyiiif^r Wonls of
45 Poor Mdilir, a mixture of humor and pathos; Mary Morrison, a pure and
beautiful love song; Tin- Twa Hinls, or Tin- Holy Tulzif, the first of his
satires a.gainst the orthodo.x ministers; followed by Holv Willie' i Prnvcr,
Till' Ordination, and Tin- Holy Friar; The Cottir's Saturday Nif^h't, a
domestic idyll; Death and Dr. Hornbook, a genial satire; Man was mad.
50 to mourn : Hallowe'en, a poem descriptive of Scotch life in hours of merri-
ment ; To a Mouse, on Turnin'^ up her Nest 7i'ith the Plow^h, a marked speci-
men of that tenderness towards animals which links him to Cowper; The
'yolly lie/rfrars, a cantata, of which the materials are offensive and the humor
coarse, but which displays his narrative and dramatic power; Address to
SS the De'il; The Vision, a sublime picture of his early aspirations; The Twa
Dogs, a satire representing the contrast between the lives of the c:otters and
the lives of the Lairds; To a Mountain Daisy; The Brifrs of Ayr; The
Address to the Unco Guid, or the Rifridly Kifrhteous ; The Bonny Banks of
Ayr, written when he had taken his last farewell of his friends and his
60 trunk was on the way to C.reenock. Tlie second period includes his two
winters in Edinburgh, as well as his last years at Plllisland and Dumfries.
Although he then wrote other poems, the chief productions are the marvel-
lous store of songs with which he enriched our literature. Among the
works of this period are:— T/zf Epistle to a Young Friend; Maepherson's
65 Fareit'ell; Elegy on the Death of Captain Matthew Henderson; Verses on
BURNS.
423
Coptain Ornse: Tlu- Kirk's Alurtn. a ilcfcnrc of (nic of his old friends of thr
" Nlw I.ijjht " School; W'lllii /Irt ?.< 1/ n I'nk <>' Mull, tlic prim «• of Uac-
clianalian sonns, followed by Thi- ir/(/.«//r, a sirnilar i-ffiision ; Tu Mnry in
Heaven, an t\sfly passionate lyric, remarkaltle also as the one pnrely
Knt;lish pi iUirns's that ranks in the first class: Hii;hliiuil .\l,in : John t>
Anderson nn Jo: Aiild Liui); Syne ; Turn o' S/ianter, in his own opinion, and
in that of many others, his finest work: it displays his narrative and
descriptive powers, his creative imagination, and his ability to combine
the hidicrous and the terrible ; The Hunks o' Doon : The Ulrks of Ahrr/eldy ;
Of a' the Airts the Wind eon bhr.i' : Fareh-ell to S'uney : Ihinenn (iroy . liruee's
Address to his Army at Ihinnoekhnrn : A Man's a Man fur a' That ; farewell
to Xanev : and Address to a W'oodlark. Knrns composed between twi) ami
three hundred aon^'s, from thirty to forty of which are admittedly of the
highest order.
75
Critical. — I'robnbly no two men were more unlike than Cowiier and 80
Burns; and yet, thouj^h they were unconscious of it, their works h.ul a
similar influence. Hoth between them wrout,'ht the enfranchisement of
our poetry from the bonda>;e of I'ope and precedent : both helped lo found
the school to which Wordsworth and Hyron anil Shelley belong, and both
were instinct with the passion for truth anil nature for that nature, one gj
touch of which "makes the whole world kin." (See " Cowper," p. 4^0,
11. 76-81.) Burns is Scotland's greatest poet. Of the lyrical poets of I'mh-
lish Literature, Burns is al.so the greatest. It is in his song's that his
genius is freest, fullest, and most brilliant; and it is as a song-writer that
he is most widely known. The essence of the lyric is the passion of the "»o
moment. Burns's passions were fervid and intense, and his soul was trem-
blingly alive to every poetic influence. Bird-like, he sang when his heart
was full. In the lyrical drama success might have crowned a sustained
effort, had he been able to make one; but for epic poetry ami the highest
form of the drama he had not the culture, even if he had the talent. All 95
Burns's best productions are in the Soiuh-.\yrshire di.dect. Of this his
command was marvellously great: tiie outward form of his (inest poems is
always in complete accord with the inward feeling. His works display a
great variety of poetic talent. Brilliant description, animated n.irrative,
pungent satire, exquisite tenderness, the broadest and most retined humor, ,00
are there joined to large sympathy and strong and keen intelligence. At
the base of all his power lay his realism and his truthfuiniss. An ording
to I'rof. Shairp, one of his biographers, these (pialities showed themselves
in four main directions. He restored the ebbing national spirit of Scot-
land ; he turned the tide which Scott brought to the flood, lie interpreted ,05
the lives, thoughts, feelings, manners of the Scottish peasantry as they had
never been interpreted before, and never can be again ; he made the poorest
ploughman proud of his status and his toil, sine r Robbie Burns had shared
and had sung them. His sympathies and t' lights were not conflned to
class or country; he proclaimed the broth iiood of man, which found no
utterance through Cowper first of the Eng' 1 poets. His love of Nature
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Jl V
424
ADVANCED READER.
is intense, but simple and direct; he did not go so far as Wordsworth
afterwards did ; with liurns Nature is the background cf his pictures of
life and human character. But Jiurns did more for Scotland than restore
115 her nationality. Some of his own poems and songs are undoubtedly
objectionable on the score of immorality; but, for all this, it is true that
he purified Scottish song, which before his day had been a muddy rill.
His songs "embody human emotion in its most condensed and sweetest
essence. They appeal to all ranks; they teach all ages; they cheer toilworn
120 men under every clime wherever the English tongue is heard — beneath
the suns of India, amid African deserts, on the western prairies of America,
among the s<juatters of Australia; wherever men of British blood would
give vent to their deepest, kindliest feelings, it is to the songs of Burns
they spontaneously turn, and find in them at once a perfect utterance and
125 a fresh tie of brotherhood. It is this which forms Burns's most enduring
claim on the world's gratitude."
THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT.
Introductory. — During the "Auld Light " and "New Light" contro-
versy, a close intimacy sprang up between the poet and Robert Aiken, to
whom the following poem is addressed. To Aiken's son, Burns addressed
his Epistle to a Yotiiig Friend, a production as remarkable for its wisdom
as for its literary merit. Gilbert Burns, the author's brother, gives us the
following account of this poem : — " Robert had frequently remarked to me
that he thought there was something peculiarly vt;nerable in the phrase,
' Let us worship God,' used b\' a decent, sober head of a family introducing
family worship. To this statement of the author the world is indebted for
The Cotter's Scitiirday Nif!^lit The cotter is an exact copy of my
father in his manners, his family devotions, and exhortations; yet the
other parts of the description do not apply to our family ; none of us
were 'at service out amang the farmers roun'.' Instead of our depositing
our ' sair-won penny fee' with our parents, my father labored hard and
lived with the most rigid economy, that he might be able to keep his
children at home, thereby having an opportunity of watching the progress
of our young minds, and forming in them early habits of piety and virtue;
and from this motive alone did he engage in fanning, the source of all his
difhculties and distress." As a work of art, the poem fall? below the level
of Burns's best productions. None of them, however, present his charac-
ter in so favorable a light, or indicate so unmistakably his deep-seated
reverence for the religion of his forefathers; though in the words of his
Bard's Epitaph,
" Thoughtless iolhes laid him low,
And stained his name."
The followirp Vwes from Gray's Elegy were prefaced by the author to the
original .ition: —
" Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ;
Nor f ir.'iiKli'iir licir with ;i dir.d.iinfiil sniilt",
The short and simple annals of flie poor "
BURNS.
425
My loved, my honored, much respected friend!
No mercenary bard his liomaf^e pays;
With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end:
My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise:
To you I sinf,', in simple Scottish lays.
The lowly train in life's sequestered scene;
The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;
What Aiken in a cottage would have bcin ;
Ah! though his worth unknown, far hapi)ier there, I ween!
November still blaws' loud wi' ang'-y sugh ;-'
The short'ning winter-day is near a close;
The miry beasts'' retreating frae* the pleugh :»
The black'ning trains o' craws" to their repose:
The toil-worn cotter frae his labor goes,—
This night his weekly moil is at an end,—
Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,
Hoping the morn" in ease and rest to spend.
And, weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.
15
uthor to the
At length his lonely cot appears in view.
Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
Th' expectant wee things, toddlin', stacher'' through
To meet their dad,'' wi' flichterin'"' noise and glee.
His wee bit^' ingle,''^ blinking boniiily,
His clean hearthstane, his thriftie wifie's smile,
The hsping infant prattling on his knee.
Does a' his weary carking cares beguile.
And makes him quite forget his labor and his toil.
as
LiTERARY.-Observe that the more name any great poems in the same
homely passages are written in the stanza.
Ayrshire dialect, and those of a ^^ ,^j^,j ^^^ (,)uote the passages m the
■ ' •-•' '•""'"^'^ 'Elegy" which these lines suggest.
2 V wee bit. Note that Scotch is
higher character in classical l-.nglish _
Note throughout the influence of
Pope Gray -ind Goldsmith. De-
scribe the metrical structure, and i rich in diminutives.
I Blows.
5 Plough.
2 angry sough, or moaning sound. 3 CattU-,
C Crows. 7 The next day. 8 Stagger.
10 l-luueiing. n LiiUe. 12 Fireplace.
4 iMorii.
9 Father.
i. I
fi ■
426
ADVANCED READER.
30
35
40
Belyve,' the elder Ixiirns- come drappinj;; in,
At service out amang the fanners roun':
Some ca''' tlie pleugh, some herd, some tentie* rin
A canny'' errand to a neibor town:
Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,
In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,"
Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw^ new gown,
Or deposit her sair-won penny-fee,"
To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.
Wi" joy unfeigned, brothers and sisters meet,
And each for other's welfare kindly spiers:"
The social hours, swift-winged, unnoticed, fleet;
Each tells the uncos" that he sees or hears ;
The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;
Anticipation forward points the view:
The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears.
Gars auld claes look amaist as weel'e. the new;"
45 The father mixes a" wi' admonition (■
Their master's and their mistress's command
The younkers a' are warned to obey,
An' mind their labors wi' an eydant''- hand.
An' ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk'-^ or play:
"An' oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway!
An' mind your duty,'-* duly, morn an' night!
Lest in temptation's path ye gang'"' astray,
Implore His counsel and assisting might:
They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!"
so
55 But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door;
Jenny, wha kens"' the meaning o' the same.
41- eye-years. Express in prose I 50. Comment on the effect of the
the meaning of this expression, I change of narration.
. By.an< -by. 2 Ch.ldren. 3 Drive (literally " call -). 4 Run heedfully.
5 Careful. 6 Lye. 7 Handsome. 8 Dearly won wages. 9 Inquires
.0 Uncommon. ,.<•., strange things, n Makes old clothes look almost as eood .' new
iz Diligent. ,3 Trifle. ,4 Prayers (in this case). 15 Go. ,G Who knows."
i'.<
hi \
BURNS.
4-27
Tells how a neibor lad cam o'er the moor
To do some errands, and convoy her hame.
The wily mother sees the conscious flame
Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, an' flush hw cheek;
Wi' heart-struck, anxious care, auiuires Ins name,
While Jenny hafflins' is ahaid to speak;
Weel pleased the mother hears its nae wild, worthless rake.
Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben-—
A strappin' youth ; he taks the mother's eye ;
Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;
The father cracks'' of horses, pleiighs, ami kye.'
The youngster's artless heart overflows wi' joy,
But, blate an' laithfu','^ scarce can weel behave;
The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy
Wh \t makes the youth sae bashfu' and sae grave;
Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave."
O, happy love !— where love like this is found !—
'o heart-felt raptures! -bliss beyond compare!
I've paced much this weary, mortal round.
And sage experience bids me this declare —
" If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,
One cordial in this melancholy vale,
'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
In other's arms, breathe out the tender tale,
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
Is there in human form, that bears a heart,
A wretch, a villain, lost to love and truth.
That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,
Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?
Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling smooth!
60
65
70
75
80
85
50. conscious. Comment on the I 7-VJ- Account for the change in
meaning of this word. | diction.
T Part'.Y.
? In. I.e. into the inner room. 3 Talks.
5 Bashful and hesitating. The rest, 1..., olhcr folk.
4 Cows.
428
ADVANCED READER.
Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled?
Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,
Points to the parents fondling o'er their child?
9° Then paints the ruined maid, and their distraction wild!
But now the supper crowns their simple hoard.
The halesome parritch,^ chief of Scotia's food;
The soupe- their only hawkie^ does afford,
That 'yont the hallan* snugly chows her cood:'"'
95 The dame brings forth, in complimental mood,
To grace the lad, her weel-hained kebbuck fell,"
And aft he's prest, and aft he ca's it guid:
The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell
How 'twas a towmond^ auld, sin' lint was i' the bell."
!',..
IOC The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
They round the ingle form a circle wide ;
The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace.
The big ha' Bible," ance his father's pride;
His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside,
los His lyart haffets'" wearing thin and bare;
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
He wales" a portion with judicious care;
And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.
They chant their artless notes in simple guise ;
no They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim:
Perhaps "Dundee's" wild-warbling measures rise.
Or plaintive " Martyrs," worthy of the name ;
Or noble "Elgin" beets'- the heavenward flame.
The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays:
"5 Compared with these, Italian trills are tame ;
The tickled ear no heart-felt raptures raise ;
Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.
109. Comment on the meaning and
derivation of " guise."
109, et scq. Note again the change
of diction.
I Wholesome oat meal porridge. 2 Milk. 3 Cow. 4 Porch.
5 Chews her cud. 6 Well-saved tasty cheese. 7 Twelvemonth.
8 Since flax was in ihe noux-r
II Selects.
y Hall Bible, Family Bible. 10 Gray temples.
12 Nourishes.
195
130
BURNS. 429
The priest-like father reads the sacred pa^e—
How Abrain was tlie friend of God on liigh;
Or Moses bade eternal warfare waj^e
With Amalek's ungracions progeny;
Or how the royal bard did groaning lie
Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;
Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;
Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire;
Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme-
How guiltless blood for guilty man was slied ;
How He who bore in heaven the second name
Had not on earth whereon to lay His head;
How His first followers and servants sped,
The precepts sage they wrote to many a land;
How he, who lone in Patnios banished,
Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, , , „
And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven s .35
command.
Then, kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King,
The saint, the father, and the husband prays:
Hope " springs exulting on triumphant wing "
That thus they all shall meet in future days;
There ever bask in uncreated rays.
No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear;
Together hymning their Creator's praise.
In such society, yet still more dear;
While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
!
140
Compared with this, how poor religion's pride,
In all the pomp of method and of art,
When men display to congregations wide
Devotion's every grace, except the heart !
The Power, incensed, the pageant will desert.
MS
118-135. Quote the passages m
Scripture here referred to.
145
contrast
With what does the poet
religion " ?
If' ''
it! '
. Pi
'« >i
!ii^
;i! Ji
jt ^
430
ADVANCED READER.
150 The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole;
But, hciply, in some cottage far apart.
May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul,
And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll.
Then homeward all take off their several way:
,55 The youngling cottagers retire to rest ;
The parent-pair their secret homage pay,
And proffer up to Heaven the warm request
That He, who stills the raven's clam'rous nest,
And decks the lily fair in flowery pride,
160 Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best.
For them and for their little ones provide ;
But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.
From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs.
That makes her loved at home, revered abroad :
i6s Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,
"An honest man's the noblest work of God; "
And certes, in fair Virtue's heavenly road.
The cottage leaves the palace far behind ;
What is a lordling's pomp ? — a cumbrous load,
170 Disguising oft the wretch of human kind,
Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined!
O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent !
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
175 Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content !
And oh ! may Heaven their simple lives prevent
From luxury's contagion, weak and vile !
Then, howe'er crown and coronets be rent,
A virtuous populace may rise the while,
180 And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved isle.
156-162. Cf. Wotton's description
of the happy man in "A Happy
Life"—
" Who God doth late and early pray
More of his grace than gifts to lend."
163-188. What marked character-
istircs of the author are here dis-
played? Refer to other poems of
his in which the same thoughts
occur.
165-166. See Goldsmith's " De-
serted Village," p. 461, 11. 53-54-
BURNS.
43'
O Thou! who poured the patriotic tide
That streamed throu^'h Wallaces undauuted heart;
Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,
Or nobly die, the second glorious part,
(The patriot's God, peculiarly Thou art.
His friend, inspirer, jruardian, and reward!)
Oh, never, never, Scotia's realm desert;
But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard.
In bright succession raise, her ornament and ^mard.
»8s
TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY.
ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL. I786.
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower,
Thou's met me in an evil hour ;
For I maun^ crush amang the stoure'
Thy slender stem :
To spare thee now is past my power,
Thou bonnie gem.
Alas! it's no thy neibor sweet,
The bonnie lark, companion meet !
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet
Wi' speckled breast.
When upward springing, blithe to greet.
The purpling east.
Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early, humble, birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted^ forth
Amid the storm.
Scarce reared above the parent earth
Thy tender form.
«5
Observe the characteristic tender-
ness 01 the. poem "To a Mountain
Daisy," and especially of the author's
applications. Describe the metre,
and note that the stanza is a special
favorite of Burns.
I Must.
2 Dust.
3 Glanced, peeped.
V i
I p '
ao
»5
30
35
40
45
50
^^^ ADVANCED READER,
The flauntin;:,' flowers our gardens yield,
High sheltering woods an' wa's' maun shield;
But thou, beneath the random bield-
O' clod or stane.
Adorns the histie"' stihble-field,
Unseen, alane.
There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawie bosom sunward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head
In humble guise;
But now the share uptears thy bed,
And low thou lies !
Such is the fate of artless maid.
Sweet flow 'ret of the rural shade!
By love's simplicity betrayed,
And guileless trust.
Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid
Low i' the dust.
Such is the fate of simple bard.
On life's rough ocean luckless starred !
Unskilful he to note the card
Of prudent lore,
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard.
And whelm him o'er !
Such fate to suffering worth is given.
Who long with wants and woes has striven,
By human pride or cunning driven
To misery's brink,
Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven,
He, ruined, sink!
Even thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate.
That fate is thine— no distant date :
1 Walls.
2 Shelter.
3 Dry.
BURNS.
433
Stern Ruin's plouKlisharo drives, el.ite,
Full on thy bloom,
Till, crushed beneath the furrow's weit,'ht,
Shall be thy doom.
ROBERT imUCES ADPRKSS TO HIS ARMY.
Scots, wha hae \vi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Hruce has aften led;
Welcome to your gory bed.
Or to victoric.
Now's the day, and now's the hour ;
See the front o" battle lower;
See approach proud Edward's power —
Chains and slaverie !
"Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave ?
Let him turn and ilee!
Wha for Scotland's King and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or free-man fa'.
Let him on wi' me !
By oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains !
We will drain our dearest veins.
But they shall be free !
Lay the proud usurpers low !
Tyrants fall in every foe !
Liberty's in every blow !
Let us do, or die !
1. Classify the preceding poems, and show to what extent the sentiments
expressed in them are specially characteristic of Burns's period.
2. Make an application of the Critical estimate on pp. 423-424 to the
preceding poems.
3. Memorize "To a Mountain Daisy."
Composition.
Reproduce in prose " The Cotter's Saturday Night."
DD
>5
ao
' I
91
COWPER.
Biographical. — William Covvper was born on the 26th of Noveinber,
1731, at Great Berkhamstcad, Hertfordshire, Eng., where his father was
rector. His mothei died when he was only six years old, but her memory
was fondly cherished by her son. At the age of seven Cowper was sent to
5 a country school, where he was systematically bullied by some of his
schoolfellows. This torture told upon his weak body and nervous dis-
position, and probably laid the seeds of the terrible malady which dark-
ened his life. Afterwards, however, at Westminster, he was able to
prosecute his studies with greater earnestness and with more enjoyment.
lo On leavmfj school he was articled to a solicitor, in whose office he spent
thiee years. Thence he passed to the Temple, and was formally called to
the bar in 1754. But law was distasteful to him. Through family influence
he obtained a Commissionership of Bankrupts. The still more lucrative
position of Clerk of the Journals to the House of Lords having been secured
IS for him, in the excitement of preparation for ihe necessary preliminary
examination at the bar of the House, his reason gave way, and he had to
be placed under restraint. Although he recovered in a few months, he
became thenceforth almost entirely dependent on his friends and relations,
some of whom joined in making him an allowance. At Huntingdon,
cowriiii
435
whither ho h.-id removed to be n<iir his brotln-r, he in.i.h" the ai-.iiiaintaiice zo
of the llnwins, and in 1765 becamu one of their household. Mere he spent
some of the liappiost years of his life. On tlie death of Mr. Unwin, two
years later, the family, including Cowper, went to live at oln. y, in Hiuk-
inKhanishire. The clergyman there, the Kv.v. John Newion, became Cow-
ppr's intimate friend, and beint,' Marrow-mindi'd, thon^h sincerely (lions, ^j
exercised an unhealthy intlnencL' un tlie sensitive mind of his ronipaiiion.
{•owper now became morbidly religious, and this culminated in another
attack of his malady in 177.^. To this interconrse, however, we owe the
OliuY Hymns. In I77<) Newton left Olney, and then beg i'' under better
intUiences, Cowper's true literary career. Now appeared a new friend, .,»
Lady Austen, whose accomplishments and sprightly vivacity had a bene-
fkial effect (m his life. When, however, in ij'ji, his Transl.ilion of Homer
was completed, his illness returned, and prevailed almost without inter-
mission during the last six years of his life. Mrs. Unwin, too, w;.s helpless
with palsy. In the midst of this distress, word came that the King, lecog- 35
nizing Cowper's eminent merits, had granted him a pension; but tlu'
honor had come too la«e: he did not even understand the news. Next
year he and Mrs. IJnwin were removed to Norfolk. There the latter died
in 1796. Cowper was inconsolaiile for her loss: a deeper gloom than ever
settled upon him, and he died m unutterable despair on the j.sth of 4'^
April, 1800.
I'KiNciPAi. WoRKS,--l'oEMS (1782): This volnii •• c<mtained T(ihl,-T,i!k.
Thf Pyoi^nss of Error, Truth, E.xpostiiliitlou, Hope, Charity, Coiir.rsalioii.
and Ritirancnt. Of these moral satires, the most readable is Rctir-miHt.
The Task (1785); This volume contained, also, Tinniiiiniii, or a Rtvitu- d/ as
Schools—^ poem suggested by the author's own youth lul experiences— and
the well-known humorous ballad, Thr History of John Gilpin. To Lady
Austen we owe the leading poem. On his asking her for a subject, she
assigned him "The Sofa," and this grew into The Task. The poem, which
consists of six books, is a work of great labor, but it was a labor that 30
"physicked pain;" for, while composing it, (^)wper was supremely happy.
The labor is in the language and the cadences; the thoughts show them-
selves just as they came, in their natural order. The topics are various.
Religion, politics, society, philosophy, and horticulture, all by turns occupy
the author's attention ; but he " rambles wide" ; there is no method in their 53
treatment. His favorite tiit-me is the praise of retirement and of country
life as most friendly to piety and virtue. Translations of the Iliad and The
Odvssev (1791) : "The translation of Horner into English verse is the Polar
expedition of literature, always failing, yet still desperately renewed."
And Cowper, too, has failed to reproduce the primeval simplicity and 60
savagery oi' the Grecian bard. In his translations from Horace, however,
he has been more successful. Besides the foregoing, Cowper wnUe many
short poems— perhaps his best, certainly his most popular, productions,
The chief are The Loss of the Royal George, The Solitude of Ale.xander
Selkirk, The Poplar Field, Lines on the Receipt of my Mother's Picture, The 65
■MMl
m< n
■i ;}
I i|il !1 ^
1.
J
i ■
t
III
1 fi
(
'A
1
i
436
ADVANCED READER.
Needless Alarw, Lines on a Youn<r Lady, To Mary, and The Castaway. He
was also the contributor of fifty-eight of the o'lney Hymns, compiled and
published by Newton in i;;^. His hymns, however, have little poetic
value. Cowper, according to Southey, is the best of English letter-writers.
70 Whatever may be their relative merits, as compared with those of Byron,
Gray, or Horace VValpole, Cowper's letters have the true epistolary charm.'
They are especially remarkable for their truthfulness and colloquial ease.
Critical.— Cowper is of less importance as a poet than as the embodi-
ment of the influences which, during his lifetime, were working towards
75 the evolution of Modern English Literature (see Prim, of Rug. Lit., pp.
139-149)- During the latter half of the eighteenth century, the main
poetical tendencies were a fondness for description of Nature, and a wider
and more vivid delineation of human character and incident: the reaction
had set in against conventionality in Art and Sentiment. Cowper began
80 the work which was finished by Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Scott; he is
the poet of the return to Nature and of the simple human affections. Of
this delight in natural objects there are traces in his immediate predeces-
sors: in Cowper, however, both these feelings are sharpened and strength-
ened by the belief in the near presence and pervading influence of the
«5 Divine Spirit. But he is original in more than matter; he broke through
the prevailing conventionality of style more daringly than any one before
him. In his Table Talk he expresses his contempt for the "creamy
smoothness" of the fashionable verse, where sentiment was often
90
95
" sacrificed to sound,
.^iid trutli cut short to make a period round."
" Give me," he exclaims,
" the line that ploufjh.s its stately course
Like a proud swan, conquering the stream by force;
That, like some cotlatie beauty, strikes the I'.eart,
Quite unindebted to the tricks of art."
But, though he despises the "tricks of art," and occasionally sinks into
negligence of style and nudity of phrase, he was an artist: he was not
-too proud for Art, and trusting in mere force." The main charms of
Cowper's verse are its truthfulness and sincerity. Of creative power
'oo sweetness of melody, or graceful fancy, not much is met with- but his
works never lack that earnestness which marks him out as the morning
star of the new day in English poetry. To *his end the religious influences
of the period, no doubt, conduced. The very foundation of his poetry
IS his close observation and truthful representation of men and things
■°S His language is direct, simple, and straightforward; his style, animated
vigorous clear, and expressive. Deep, passionate emotion he seldom
shows: despair seems to be the only feelitig that really stirred the depths
of his poetic soul. Cowper is subjective : all he has written is but the reflec-
tion of his character. He is a master of pure and simple pathos • humor
"° too, shows Itself in gleams. Well-meaning satire he often affects • but his
satire shows his limitations as a thinker, and the narrow-miuded bigotry
""^^'^^^Sl^ffS?'-'': ■•3'^?a;SW--WW
cow PER.
437
thai often impairs the charm of his verso. Mr. Arnold speaks of his
••morbid religion and his lumbering movement." Of the justice of the
former charge Tlif Task and the Moral Satins afford ample proof. Ills
blank verse, too, is irregular in movement, and devoid of Milton's organ- 115
t.med harmony; but the rhyming couplets of his minor poems have an
ease and a neatness which make these his most popular productions. Tins
praise, however, Cowper deserves: when he died, blank versi; was restored
to' English poetry; the Popian couplet was no longer the only vehicle of
poetical expression. Hut it is Cowper's especial praise that he made poetry i-.o
the handmaid of religion. His intention was to make religion poetical;
as has been said, he succeeded in showing that poetry can be made reli-
gions. Since his ti' loetry has taken a higher and a nobler tone; foi
this, if for nothing eise, Cowper deserves an honored place in the history
of our literature. ""
ON THE RECEIPT Ob' MY MOTHERS PICTURE.
INTRODUCTOKY.— Having in i7(jo received from his cousin. Miss Podham,
his mother's portrait, Cowper wrote the following lines, which are un-
excelled in simple pathos by anything else he has pnxluced In the letter
in which he acknowledges the gift, he expresses himself thus : — "The
world could not have furnished von with a present as accept.ible to me as
the picture which von have so kindlv sent me. 1 rt^ceived it the night
before last and viewed it with a trepidation of nerves and spirits some-
what akin 'to what I should have felt had the dear original presented her-
self to my 'inbraces. I kissed it, and hung it where it is the last objc-ct
that I see at night, and, of course, the first on which I open my eyes in the
morning. She died when I completed my sixth year; yet I remember her
well, arid am an ocular witness of the great fidelity of the copy."
Oh that those hps had hinf<iiajj[e ! Life lias passed
With me but roiij^hly, since I lieard thee last.
Those hps are thine—thy own sweet smile I see,
The same that oft in chiklhood solaced me ;
Voice only fails, else how distinct they say,
" Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!"
The meek intelligence of those dear eyes
(Blest be the art that can immortalize.
The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim
To quench it! here shines on me still the same.
xo
LiTER.^RY. — Observe throughout
the poem the prevalence of words of
classical origin, the general felicity ot
the language, the freedom of the me-
tenderness of the sentiniiMit, and the
charming artlessness of the descrip-
tions. Describe the metre.
Life— last. Explain here and
trical movement, the varying position : throughout the biographical refer
of the Ca;sural pause, the puiity and ences.
43«
;fi
as
30
35
40
45
ADVANCED READER.
Faithful remembrancer of one so dear,
welcome guest, tliough unexpected here !
\\'ho bidd'st me honor with an artless song,
Affectionate, a mother lost so long.
1 will obey, not willingly alone.
But gladly, as the precept were her own ;
And, while that face renews my filial grief,
Fancy shall weave a charm for my rehef, '
Shall steep me in Elysian reverie,
A momentary dream, that thou art she.
My mother ! when I learned that thou wast dead,
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ?
Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son,
\\'retch even then, life's journey just begu'n ?
Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss;
Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss—
Ah, that maternal smile!— it answers Yes. •
I lieard the bell toll'd on thy burial day,
I saw the hearse that bore thee slow aw^y.
And, turning from my nursery window, drew
A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu '
But was it such ?-It was.-\\'here thou art gone
Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.
May I but meet tliee on that peaceful shore.
The parting word shall pass my lips no more!
Thy maidens, grieved tliemselves at my concern.
Oft gave me promise of thy quick return.
^^'llat ardently 1 wished, I long believed.
And, disappointed still, was still deceived.
By expectation every day beguiled,
Dupe of to-morrow even from a child.
Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went,
Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent,
I learned at last submission to my lot ;
But though 1 less deplored thee, ne'er 'forgot.
13-14. For order of words, cf. Mil-
ton's ■• iinr-jproved pleasures free."
40-41. Explain the grammatical
structure of these line.s,
V '
cow PER.
439
Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more,
Children not thine have trod my nursery floor ;
And where the gardener Robin, day by day,
Drew me to school along the public way,
Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapt
In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped,
"Tis now become a history little known,
That once we called the pastoral house our own.
Short-lived possession ! But the record fair.
That memory keeps of all thy kindness there.
Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced
A thousand other themes less deeply traced.
Thy nightly visits to my chamber made.
That thou might'st know me safe and warmly laid ;
Thy morning bounties ere I left my home,
The biscuit or confectionery plum ;
The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestowed
By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed ;
All this, and more endearing still than all.
Thy constant flow of love, that knew no tall.
Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and breaks,
That humor interposed too often makes :
All this still legible in memory's page,
And still to be so to my latest age,
Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay
Such honors to thee as my numbers may ;
Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere.
Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here.
Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours
When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers,
The violet, the pink, and jessamine,
I pricked them into paper with a pin
(And thou wast happier than myself the whfle ;
Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile),
so
55
60
65
70
75
'hu-
G0-61 S'- ..,' that these lines fall . O7. Explain the meaning of
below the . (-varal level of the poem, mor " here.
See also lor a still more marked \ 72. Quote the stanza from Oray s
example 11. 70-77.
1 " Elegy " which this linr suggests.
ii'l;
i!^!
f
i
lii^l.^
Si
n
440
80
8s
go
95
100
los
no
ADVANCED READER.
Could those few pleasant da3s again appear,
Miglit one wi.sli bring tlieni, would I wish them here ?
I would not trust my heart;— the dear delight
Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.—
But no— what here we call our life is such,
So little to be loved, and thou so much,
That I should ill requite thee to constrain
Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.
Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast
(The storms all weathered, and the ocean crossed)
Shoots mto port at some well-havened isle,
Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile,
There sits quiescent on the floods, that show
Her beauteous form reflected clear below.
While airs impregnated with incense play
Around her, fanning light her streamers gay •
So thou with sails how swift ! hast reached the shore
" Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,"
And thy loved consort, on the dangerous tide '
Of life, long since has anchored by thy side.
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest.
Always from port withheld, always distressed—
Me howhng blasts drive devious, tempest-tossed.
Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost.
And day by day some current's thwarting force
Sets me more distant from a prosp'rous course.
Yet, oh! the thought that thou art safe, and he!
That thought is joy, arrive what may to me.
My boast is not that I deduce my birth
From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ;
But higher far my proud pretensions rise,—
The son of parents passed into the skies.
And now, farewell .'-Time unrevoked has run
His wonted course, yet what I wished is done
th?'-^°^' ^"•P^-'^if fl]c '-application of I Simile possesses beauty it is some
the Figure, and the biographical what labored ^'
reterences m 11. 100-105. ('ive espe-
cially the force of "compass lost,"
109-111. Complete the Ellipsis.
1. 103. Observe that though iheL,"^-^^3 Time- course. Explain
Cf. 1.
120.
ny V
-•^^'^'^SP'WWHWISSW
^^rc
cow PER
By contemplation's lielp, not souf,'ht in vain,
I seem to have lived my chikUiood o'er aj^'am ;
To have renewed the joys tliat once were mme
Without the sin of violating,' tlune ;
And, while the wings of Fancy still are free.
And I can view this mimic show ot thee,
Time has but half succeeded in his theft,—
Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.
441
115
TO MARY UNWIN.
Makv! I want a lyre with other strings.
Such aid from heaven as some have feigned they drew,
An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new
And undebased by praise of meaner thmgs,
That ere through age or woe I shed my wmgs,
I may record thy worth with honor due,
In verse as musical as thou art true
And that immortalizes whom it sings:—
But thou hast little need. There is a Book
By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light.
On which the eyes of God not rarely look.
A chronicle of actions just and bright ;
There all thy deeds, mv faithful Mary, shine ;
And, since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine.
T riassifv the preceding poems.
inj^enuous nature." Explain.
3. Develop fully the following statements;-
ol;^;^":"/r.s,rfr'f nip ;r •.^r;:;;jx.i.. <
bring his nu„lcl from h.gher sources llian those of the .Migustan ,,gc.
"";■ S^Critiea, estinta.e. pp. 4.,Cm:,7. a™! ."h- to what e.ten, the
statements made therein are ilhtstratetl by the select.on, ^
5 Memorize " Lines on the Keceipt of my Mother s 1 Lctnre.
Composition.
The importance of Copper in the history of English Literature.
1
1
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BURKE.
nn, as ar as can be ascertained, on the 12th of Ja. iry. 1728 or 1720
H.S father was a Protestant ; his n^other, a Roman Catholic • his e.rl est
years were spent under the care of his Catholic nncles ■ nnd hi u T
uie 01 toleration. 1< rom school he passed to Trinity Colleee Dnhlin
V ere he remained from .y,, to .7,8. As a student his habhs w ^e desu K
roLh hrV;; r^ '"' ^'^ ^^ -PP'^-tion to his proper studies bu.
^Hf ,f°"'^"'P°''^''>'' '^"^ ^"^y '-1^''' 'die Cioldsmith he cave
I ™ 50 he' ::; t f "T^ ""'"^i ^° — -'^^-^. and to day-dreamTng
m 17^0 he went to London to study law, but he had little taste for tht
profession for his condition during this period is des Ld as that "f
zt:^i:r:'Tr "^J°'"^°"' ''^''"^''' Reynolds rri'
Ut rary Sub in jf "\^'-^^ ^-/"^ °-' «* the founders of the famou
Uterary Club. In the intervals of literary work he studied carefully the
BURKE.
443
the 8th of July, 1797'
'^tha ^ c o ' art seek its principles in the wrong place s<, long as
U ^ liSit their search to poems, pictures, '^-^^-^^^f'^^^']^'^;,
ini instead of first arranging the sentuuents and facult s ct man
to .1 ch art makes appeal." Account of European ScUUn.ns n
^„; " and an unfinished work entitled Essay Un.a.ls an ^^-^l^'^ =^
ofEn^ilsh History (x757). A much more -^-rtan um erUkmg th.u
these histories was the Annual Rc,,sta; a survey of tie ^-- -- J^
which were then transpiring in every -^.uarter of the glol c 1 x
Greater part of the first two volumes, which began to appea m 17.9,
tat JrifSn by Burke, and for several years he contnbuted the h.. 60
toric-il part of this compendium. Observations on the Present State of
rN^J 1769): A reply to a pamphlet by George Grenv.Uo, m winch
t d^Jpoi^^ minis' J accused his successors of ruinnn. ^^ ^'^^^^^^^
n this Volume Burke showed a knowledge of -"----^^'^^^'^''^^^^^i;,^ ,,
that of his opponent, and a deeper insight into general prmciples. 7 l,ough is 65
444
^i/'(..
11 m
■\ ':U
ri:';l
!r (
1 i!'';
ir^
lUii , i:l
ADVANCED READER.
policy which had hrou« u abo, t ho^t " "':■ ""' ^'"' '^^''^'^'"'^ "^
party. Here for the first tim "l ko ex b M T"'''''' "' ""'' ''"'^'''^'
70 his uncierstaruii„K. ^>vv/, .^^ . W m, r ^'^ "''"''^''' ''"'•^''"^-^ "f
o/Amna,<iyyy)^.\,i^T/ ^^^^nJJs of Brhtol on tin- Affairs
or in any literature for ™ J) ' ^'T^"'' '""""''^' '" "»'• literature,
of all the qualities which the critic uhJh' u ^" *''''■'' '"P'^" ^^''hout fault
political situations should "rive t' an" IT "' '''" '"'''''■ "^ ''^^'
on Kcono.nicol Rcfonn (1780) The /> t^t^- "'^'''* '" f'"'^'^^'^" 'V'''"/'
a large number of luc a .^ sin cur' 7 ^"'^T ''' ""' '''^' ^"^l--'
«o Of this patronage, which was u!'d;/^ '" "'" '">'"' 'household, etc.
Burke proposecf to Tnake "on i l' We 'Tr'""""' '° ''"'^ "''"-'^^"*^'
1-wcner. ofSns scheme wLcTrtrt^'r't'^"^" '^"'>' ^^ ^-■'^" P-'^
Burke assisted in preparinlXsBiH which'' ' 'T ""''" ""'"' '^'"'^^
India Company and vest thpt? proposed to abolish the Kast
«3 for life. .w. :: r^v^Xr-""^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
/mc//w.«/ «/ Warren HaUin^rshl'T- J \ ^^ ^^^ ^^'"'' "" ''" ^>"-
beengiven(p.,3:). R^Z^^ ^ h^^:^';^f: ^'T'' ;^^^ '^>-dy
Kcvolution broke out Burke J)L Rnvlniwn (1790 : When the
would entail on France Zu- Tk''^^ ""'^' '^'^ ^^•■' '^""^equences it
.0 associates, and in ir^^'^trd in t^ ! "''' ''^/^'^'«^' ^'« P"'''-"^'
the subject, employed his eloourr """'' ^"'"°"'^ utterance on
that he has been c.llll L le' e o^^ "'""^ ^'^ ^^""^ ^"'^^ --h effect
/-■^^■;' /o . Manber Tth.Va!^[ reactionary movement in Europe.
to tke GUI Wki,s7l'l T^s ;r f •'■ ^^^^'^- ^^^''"^ /'-" '/"■ A^-'
95 Revolution, in w nch th ire^ Tv^r t "°'', °' '""^ '"'^^"^''^ "" ^^e
^-- on tke Conduct «/ ^"^Sv'a^dT "' ?"" ^■"^^'"'^"'- ^'^^'■''-
(1793). /-.//.;- /. a nL /...-; s)lfrk''''''f "' ''"' '^'''"''' ''^ ^'''-
• on him in the House of I ord h I n / ^"""'""^ ""^P'^ *° ^" attack
apparent inconsistency n,^\', "^^^ f ^f^^^^' °" -count of the
:oo sion from the Government /'.^..T- '^^''''^^'' accepting a pen-
The full title of thesTl^tters fourraU^^"' -f'''^'; ^'''' ^"^ ^^97):
addressed to a Member of theHr^ 7t , ' '' ^^'^-^^Pl'-^^atory. Letters
nnO> tin- Regicide D^-^n^lJ^^Z ''''''''''''' "" '" ""'"^"^^^ >" ^''--
'xo, cums;i:S:s~mbSj ZZ^ l^l^lf ^"^'-^^ ^'°'l— . Many cir-
-ationa, e..genc:es. and n^^ llU L/XpTesTud'oTt";-^'""^'^^'
-;r.e stands pre.minr t^.^e^I^ i:;;r::::Cf ^^ -
^'° ;;ro:::::r]n r ii;:r^:;f t^ A-oi^'«iudgme;:ittr-;^;
literature. His genms was comprehensive and versa-
-— r'TtiifiTriwiimr.ipjp
nvKKi:.
445
tlie ■ he o^ved much to the rnorgy <,f his intoUoct and the cmu, v. rulnu s
his imagination. No single speech gives a proper u ea o. the exten o
s powers. His vocahuhary is singularly rici,: he .lehghted .n vaned
escntations of his subject n.atter ; but to the nu.chan.su, of h.s sentences us
K^^o d comparatively little attention. His .ealth ';^. ''KunUue la,.
Lge has been the thenu. of universal admiration. N\ uh ^ a>->yU- 1
Ees the praase of being the greatest n,aster of metaphor that the vvorld
's ,^er seen. His knowledge uas encyclopadic, and fron. Us vast store
he dr-v the illustrations that enrich his thoughts. Although, consuler.ng uo
he character of his subjects, he cannot be consi.lered an -»-truse unU. ,
he was too abstruse to be a pop.dar orator. 1 1 .s style .s gener.dh d.gndu d
and loftv, because he deals ^sith cbgnified and lofty subjects; but he seme-
ns descends in invective to a coarseness that ofiends aga.nst tl^ chc . U.
„f .ood taste. Strength is the prommeut quality ot h.s style. Macaula> .25
he resembles in this, that the greatest element of his power .s the bound-
less splendor of h.s imagery. Occasionally, however h.s sent.n.ents a c
extravagant and his dict.on swollen and bombast.c. b-very pr.ub.ct.on of
n as Mr. Arnold savs. is "saturated with ideas," and for th.s reason
s^^eches that wearied his hearers attract and reward the altent.on o .,,0
thoughtful readers. I'athos Burke possesses, but not patlu.s of he p...cst
kind it swells into fiery indignation oftener than it melts .nto tears. O
ony and ridicule and bitter invective he is the master, but the fervor of
his feelings has sometimes overbalanced his judgment. Hurke was a scu-n-
U c states.nan-he has left behind him a treasure of political w.sdom^ .\s .35
an orator he does not rank among the greatest, if .nastery of the art ...eludes
the power to persuade; for h.s oratory often failed m .ts object. Ihc
length of his speeches, the profundity of his reason.ng, and the excita-
bility of his temperament, wearied and puzzled his audience. " loo deep ^^^
for his hearers," he
"still went on rctiiiiiiK,
.\n(l thoimht of convincing when they thought of dinint;."
But though he soared over the heads of many of his hearers, Burke's
speeches have secured the immortality " which is com.non to L.cero or o
iLon-that which can never be interrupted while there ex.sts the beauty ^5
of order or the love of virtue, and which can fear no death except what
barbarity may impose on the state."
THE SPIRIT OF LIBERTY IN THE AMERICAN COLONIES.
From the Speech " On Conciliation with .America."
iNTRonucTC -Burke had ju^. <?iven four reasons why f^j^e shmdd
not be emploved against the discontented colon.es; b.rst 1 he use 01
not oe cmpioNcu K .nbdue fnr a motnent ; but it does not do
force alone is icmpvtaty . it maj .. ii.uut. i_i a ui i.v.rri. i« unnr-
away with the necessity of subdu.ng aga.n. Secondly, \^l'± '\ '('{'' '
tain: an armament is not a victory ; if you do not succeed you are xv.thout
446
ADVANCED READER.
I .i
sc?vei?-" ^'(^^:^^::'t::;V'^^'''' ^°"^ -^^--^ »" pro-
instrument in thJvui^'n^j .^^s'^'tr^i;;:.^?'- "' 'r^^ ^'-^
" uithout considerini: whether J 'vtn ''"? "^ foncihation was
matter <,f favor/to aclmi the lUpl. of ^^^^^^^^ '"'«'^'' '"• »-"•■-'"' as a
Constitution: auci by l^^^^^^^^ T^^''''''r '^ '''^•
House, t<)Kivethemasstronu'in issirm 1 ^"^ Journals of the
a.lmit, that we n.ean fJeve t'i a h J^^^^ '" ''^^JT^ "^ f'^^, '*''"« ^^'"
systematic indulgence." auncrc tu that solemn declaration of
These sir, are my reasons for not entertaininir that hi^rh
opinion of untried force, by vvliich n.any gentlemen o v o 1
sentiments in other particulars I have great re pect eei'to
be so greatly captivated. But there is still behm i ftl ird
.consideration concerning this object, which sen's Vc^"'
mine my opinion on the sort of policy which ought to be
pursued m the management of America, even more than its
popnla ,on and its commerce ; I n.ean its ten,per an/caZ^
•> only advantage wor.l, living for. This fierce .spir of L te ^
peopl.. ot the eartli; and this horn a great variety of powerful
causes; winch to understand the true temper of theif" h,d
and the d.recfon which this spirit takes, it ,.,ill not be amis
ao to lay open somewhat more largely
me^'^'V 'Tl "'7'' °^- "'" ^°'°""' "" descendants of English-
amUorm ;l:S 'he^r Sm^'^Th T, ' ""''' ^"P-^^'^'
f-n 3.0U wf n this P a'Tof :i:"Harat";t^tstTrS?
. nant; and they took this fes^,^e.ion the ml'ent thiy
e'-^S.'Zt]J'1:TA"T:.\r^l\:°'''''''°"'''^ «"■"•"■=« Criticise the
American C„,„„ie,;iV^i;T«rde''„^fi^a?™^ "' ""= =^"'™-' "'"'
ho tnBlish political parlies toward, I "'^'"P"^-
the question, and of Ihe condition of .4-5^ Name the three "considera
affairs ivhen this speech iva, deliv Ul°n»." consmera.
ered. Develop and discuss the ! 2,-26 Th. r 1 ■ .
general stalemenls, and explain the I Ju^fy ihiJsia.eSeuT'"" ~ ''"'^-
I .'■
nURKE.
447
n.rtcd from your ha.uls. Tlu.y ar.. llKTc-for. n >l ...1>
r n^M oli'urty but tolilH-rtv acccrclin^' to l.nKhsl> uU-.-.s.
'^T , . ^ nn uinlos. Abstract Uberty, like other nurc
''t:::X^VZ oW Unu^ Liberty inlu-r.s .n sou.e
n n Mcct • -nul every .mt.on has fcrnu-cl to .ts.lt sonu- ^<^
?::::^:^r;h;:hbywayof.uu.u-n..w^^^^^^^^
vion of their happiness. It happencnh yon knc.^v s.r. at tin
rit contests for freecU.n in this ...untry were ho u he c j
li : -'ues cluefly upon the ciuestion ot ta^.n^^ ^b.st o the-
conU^t^^ e ancient con.nonweaUhs tunu-cl prunanly on .
the r\ght of election of n.a.nstrates; or on tlu- ba auce an,on,
the several orders of the state. The quc.st.on ot n.oney was
not vilh then, so nnn.ediate. 15ut .n l" n.dand U was othe -
wi e On tins point of taxes the ablest pens, and nu, t
nt tc mnies h.ve been exercised; the greatest spirits .o
tZZ^^l^^r^^- In order to ,ive the fullest satis-
^LrLcerninK Mie importance of this l-'^ /^ -a.^
o.ly necessary for those who in argument ^.»f-l- f ;^^-
cellence of the English Constitution, to insist on this priM-
elo granting money as a dry point of fact, and to prove. .
U.atU.e right had been acknowledged in ancient i^archnunts,
and bUnd usages, to reside in a certain body called an House
o? Commons They went nnich farther; they attempte<l to
l^r a"d hey succeeded, that in theory it ought to l,e so,
rem the particular nature of an House of Commons, as an 30
"mediatJ representative of the people; vvl^ether U. o d -
cords had delivered this oracle or not. 1 hey '^"°^ ^ ">. f
pains to inculcate, as a fundamental principle, that 11 al
monarchies the people must in effect themselves, mediately or
.rltely, ,oL!s the power of /^-^ing the. ov^^^oiu^ .
or no shadow of liberty could subsist. 1 he Co onies draw
from you, as with their life-blood, these ideas and principle
Their'love of liberty, as with you, fixed and attached on tl
specific point of taxing. Liberty might be safe, or might be
endangered, in twenty otheM-rt^^ without their being co
.p-3a. Liberty-happinesr^^^i;;^^ ^^^^"""^
application does the aulliur make of fur thi..
this general statement? ! 56. orno shadow -subsist. Dis
34-37. Illustrate this statement. cuss this statement.
448
ADV^lNCED A'E.ID/CA'.
m'^
m '.\
H i ^
i \ i
) '
mud, p|,„M.,l or ai,„,M,.,i. H,,v Mkv f.lt its p„ls..; an,l „
hey f„,„„i „,a. ,..,,, „,.., ,„.,„KlM ,|„:,„„,,v,.s s!ck o , ,'
I do no. say whether tlx-y w.ro ri^'ht or wron^ i„ anpKi,, :
your ,..„,.r,,l a,«u,u,.„ts t„ tlu.r own cas.. U is „i ^
fau ,s,thaui,,.y,lul thus apply ti,os..Kc.n,.ral.-,,f:unH.nts,, Ml
u,«.. t „o„Kh w,s,l, ■ n.istak... connrr,,,-,! th.n, in the
na„,nal,o„, ,hal th...y, as wdl as vou, had a„ interest „
7" lliese connnon principles. ""erest in
They were l,ulh,.r eonllrn.e.l in this pleasing error by the
forn, of the.r provincial legislative assend.lies. Their govern
.en s are popular in a iMgh decree, so.ne are n.erely p .^ ,1 ;
n all the popular t.presentative is the n.ost weied tv- and
« h,s share of the p, .p|e in their ordinary governtnent t'teve
fa.ls to tnsp.re then, with lofty sentin.ents, an,l with astro™^
If anything were wanting to this necessary operation of the
tirtc. Kel,-,on, always a principle of energy, in this new
peoples no wa,. worn on, or unpaired; andVl.eir , od "f
professu,g ,t ,s also one UKtin cause of this free spirit. Tl"c
people are Protestants, and of that k', <l whicL is tl e -no t
.3 adverse to all in,plici, ul.n.iss.ou of mind a-,.t opinion IT
s a persnas.on not only favorable to ' ,. ,.„t hnilt upon
t. ,lo not tlunk, s,r, that tl,e reason of this aversenes, i,"
the d,ssent,„g churches, from all that looks like absolute gov
em nent ,s so tnnch to be sought in their religious tenets as
» .n thetr htstory. Every one knows that the Ron.an Ca.l ;Hc
^^ a-ls .rT'tT™' """' '"°^' °' ""= Roverntnents whe e
.. t„, an I re, .,ved great favor and eiery kind of suDuort
fron, anthortty. The Church of England! too, was formed
,= on, her cradle„nder the nursing care of regnla government
But the d,ssent,ng tnterests have sprung up in di^ct o^os!-'
BVKKi:.
449
tion to all tlu" ordinary powers of the world . and could justify
that opposition only on a strong' rlaini to nauiral hlurty.
riu'ir very existence depended on the powerful .md unreinlt-
ti-d assertion of that claim. All Protestantism, even the most w,
cold and passive, is a sort of dissent. Hut the relij,Mon most
prevalent in our Northern Colonies is a refinement on 'he
principle of resistance; it is the dissideiice of dissent, and the
Protestantism of the Protestant relif^don This religion, under
a varii'ty of denominations a^M-eein^ in notlnnj;- but in the I'.j
comnuuiion of the spirit of liberty, is predominant in most c^f
the Northern provinces; where the (Mnir<h of luif^land, not-
withstanding its U-gal rif^dits, is in reality 'o more than a sort
of private sect, not ccMuposinj^ mos*^ probai !y the tenth of the
pe()i)le. The Colonists left ICnghuul wli' n this spirit w as no
high, and in the emigrants was the highest of all; and even
that stream of foreigners, which has been constantly flowing
into these Colonies, has, for the greatest par . been composed
of dissenters from the establishments of tli ir several coiui-
tries, and have brought with them a temper ;muI character far 05
from alien to that of the people with whom tl -y mixed.
Sir, I can perceive Ijy their manner, that ome gentlemen
object to the latitude of this description ; l>ecan>e in the South-
ern Colonies the Church of Englanil forms a i rge bcdv, and
has a regular establishment. It is certaudy t ue. There is, uo
however, a circumstance attending these Colo lies, which, in
my opinion, fully comiterbalances this ilifference, and makes
the spirit of liberty still more high and haughty than in those
to the northward. It is, that in Virginia and the Carolinas
tltey have a vast multitude of slaves. Where tins is the case 125
in any part of the world, those who are free aiJ by far the
most proud and jealous of their freedom. Fi edom is to
them not only an enjoyment, but a kind of rank and privilege.
Not seeing there, that frei m, as in countries where it is a
common blessing, and as biicuf and general as the air, may be no
united with much abject toil, with great misery, with all the
exterior of servitude, liberty looks, amongst them, like some-
thing that is more noble and liberal. I do not mean, sir, to
■ commend the superior morality of this sentiment, which has
at least as much pride as virtue it ; but I cannot alter the >J5
£E
H I
|l i
450
ADVANCED READER.
nature of man. The fact is so; and these people of the
Southern Colonies are much more strongly, and with an
higher and more stubborn spirit, attached to liberty, than
those to the northward. Such were all the ancient common -
140 wealths ; such were our Gothic ancestors ; such in our days
were the Poles; and such will be all masters of slaves, who
are not slaves themselves. In such a people, the haughtiness
of domination combines with the spirit of freedom, fortifies it,
and renders it invincible.
145 Permit me, sir, to add another circumstance in our Colo-
nies, which contributes no mean part towards the growth and
effect of this untractable spirit. I mean their education. In
no country, perhaps, in the world is the law so general a
study. The profession itself is numerous and powerful ; and
150 in most provinces it takes the lead. The greater number of
the Deputies sent to the Congress were lawyers. But all who
read (and most do read), endeavor to obtain some smattering
in that science. I have been told by an eminent bookseller,
that in no branch of his business, after tracts of popular de-
155 votion, were so many books as those on the law exported to
the plantations. The Colonists have now fallen into the way
of printing them for their own use. I hear that they have
sold nearly as many of Blackstone's Commentaries in America
as in England. General Gage marks out this disposition
ico very particularly in a letter on your table. He states, that
all the people in his government are lawyers, or smatterers in
law; and that in Boston they have been enabled, by successful
chicane, wholly to evade many parts of one of your capital
penal constitutions. The smartness of debate will say, that
165 this knowledge ought to teach them more clearly the rights of
legislature, their obligations to obedience, and the penalties
of rebellion. All this is mighty well. But my.honorable and
learned friend on the floor, who condescends to mark what I
say for animadversion, will disdain that ground. He has
i;o heard, as well as I, that when great honors and great emolu-
ments do not win over this knowledge to the service of the
state, it is a formidable adversary to government. If the
spirit be not tamed and broken by these happy methods, it is
stubborn and litigious. Abeunt studia in mores. This study
BURKE.
451
fies in America
renders men acute, inquisitive, dexterous, prompt in attack, 1:3
ready in defence, full of resources. In other countries, tlu'
people, more simple, and of a less mercurial cast, jud^^e of an
ill principle in government only by an actual grievance; here
they anticipate the evil, anil judge of the pressure ot the
f^rievance by the badness of the principle. They augur mis- is»
'government at a distance ; and snuff the approach of tyrann\
in every tainted breeze.
The last cause of this disobedient spirit in the Colonies is
hardly less powerful than the rest, as it is not merely moral,
but laid deep in the natural constitution of things. Three 1.S5
thousand miles of ocean lie between you and them. No con-
trivance can prevent the effect of this distance in weakening
government. Seas roll, and months pass between the ordt r
and the execution; and the want of a speedy exj^jlanation oi
a single point is enough to defeat a whole system. Vou have, mjo
indeed, winged iiiesseiigcrs of vi'iigi'aiici-, who carry your bolts
in their pounces to the remotest verge of the sea. Hut there
a power steps in, that limits the arrogance of raging passions
and furious elements, and says, *' So far sluilt tJioii go, iiitti no
fartlier.'' Who are you, that you should fret and rage, and 1^5
bite the chains of Nature? Nothing worse happens to you
than does to all nations who have extensive Empire; ami it
happens in all the forms into which Empire can be thrown.
In large bodies, the circulation of power nmst be less vigorous
at the extremities. Nature has said it. The Turk cannot jdo
govern Egypt, and Arabia, and Kurdistan, as he governs
Tlirace; nor has he the same dominion in Crimea and Algiers,
which he has at Brusa and Smyrna. Despotism itself is
obliged to truck and huckster. The Sultan gets such obrdi-
ence as he can. He governs with a loose rein, that he may 205
govern at all; and the whole of the force and vigor of his
authority in his centre is derived from a prudent relaxation
in all his borders. Spain, in her provinces, is, perhaps, not
so well obeyed as you are in yours. She complies too; she
submits; she watches times. This is the inmiutable comli- ^10
tion, the eternal Law, of extensive and detached Empire.
Then, sir, from these six capital sources; of Discent; of
Form of Government; of Religion in the Northern Provinces;
452
. / D I ' ■/ XCA'D RKA D ER.
l! i
Ih'i
of Manners in the Southern ; of Education ; of the Reniote-
215 ness of Situation from the first Mover of Government; from
all these causes a fierce Spirit of Liberty has grown up. It
has grown with the growth of the people in your Colonies, and
increased with the increase of their wealth — a spirit that
unhappily meeting with an accession of power in England,
Z20 which, however lawful, is not irreconcilable to my ideas of
liberty, much less with them, has kindled the flame that is
ready to consume us.
"THE AGE OF CHIVALRY IS GONE."
From " Reflections on the Freiicli Revolution."
Intropl'ctory.— An association called the Revolution Society had met
on the 4th November, 1789, the anniversary of the landing of the Prince of
Orange, to hear a sermon from the Rev. Dr. Price in commemoration
of the event. The preacher's laudation of the French Revolutionists
provoked Burke's wrath and scorn, and he proceeded to denounce its
doctrines in a published letter addressed to M. Dupont, "a very young
gentleman at Paris." The following extract is probably the most remark-
able portion of a work which is itself a remarkable piece of declamation.
The "august person" and the "great lady" referred to in the selection
are the King and Queen of France, who had just been led "in triumph"
from Versailles by an insurrectionary mob.
I HEAR that the august person who was the principal object
of our preacher's triumph, though he supported himself, felt
much on that shameful occasion. As a man, it became him
to feel for his wife and his children, and the faithful guards of
5 his person, that were massacred in cold blood about him; as
a prince, it became him to feel for the strange and frightful
transformation of his civilized subjects, and to be more
grieved for them than solicitous for himself. It derogates
little from his fortitude, while it adds infinitely to the honor
10 of his humanity. I am very sorry to say it, very sorry indeed,
LiTKRARV. — Give an account of the Explain all the Allusions, and point
French Revolution, and of the slate out the Figures of Speech and the
of affairs in England and France Qualities of Style as they occur,
when this letter was written. Ob- Discuss the various opinions ad-
serve the coiitrast in style this sclcc- vunccd by the writer,
tion presents to the preceding one.
^Z>-..^y^3SBm
BURKE.
453
that such personages are in a situation in whicli it is not un-
becoming in us to praise the virtues of the great.
1 hear, and I rejoice to hear, that the great huly, the other
object of the triumph, has borne that day (one is interested
that beings made for suffering should suffer well), and that 13
she bears all the succeeding days, that she bears the imprison-
ment of her husband, and her own captivity, and the exile of
her friends, and the insulting adulation of addresses, and
the whole weight of her accumulated wrongs, with a serene
patience, in a manner suited to her rarrk and race, and be- 20
coming the offspring of a sovereign distinguished for her piety
and her courage : that, like her, she has lofty sentiments; that
she feels with the dignity of a Roman matron; that in the
last extremity she will save herself from the last disgrace;
and that, if she must fall, she will fall by no ignoble hand. 25
It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen
of France, then the dauphiness, at Versailles, and surc!ly
never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a
more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, deLv)r-
ating and cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move so
in, — glittering like the morning-star, full of life, and splendor,
and joy. Oh! what a revolution! and what a heart nuist 1
have to contemplate without emotion that elevation and that
fall! Little did I dream when slie added titles of veneration
to those of enthusiastic, distant, respectful love, that she is
shoidd ever be obliged to carry the sharp antidote against
disgrace concealed in that bosom ; little did 1 dream that 1
should have lived to see such disasters fallen upon her in a
nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honor, and of
cavaliers. I thought ten thousand swords must have leapetl 4"
from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened
her with insult. But the age of chivalry is gone. That of
sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded; and
the glory of Europe is extinguished for ever. Never, never
more, shall we behold that generous loyalty to rank and sex, 45
that proud submission, that dignified obedience, that subordi-
nation of the heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself,
the spirit of an exalted freedom. The unbought grace of life,
the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment
454
ADVANCED READER.
m: >
u
i
so and heroic enterprise, is gone! It is gone, that sensibility of
principle, that chastity of honor, which felt a stain like a
wound, which inspired courage whilst it mitigated ferocity,
which ennobled whatever it touched, under which vice itself
lost half its evil, by losing all its grossness.
55 This mixed system of opinion and sentiment had its origin
in the ancient chivalry; and the principle, though varied in
its appearance by the varying state of human affairs, subsisted
and influenced through a long succession of generations, even
to the time we live in. If it should ever be totally extinguished,
60 the loss I fear will be great. It is this which has given its
character to modern Europe. It is this which has distin-
guished it under all its forms of government, and distinguished
it to its advantage from the states of Asia, and possiblv from
those states which flourished in the most brilliant periods of
03 the antique world. It was this, which, without confounding
ranks, had produced a noble equality, and handed it down
through all the gradations of social hfe. It was this opinion
which mitigated kings into companions, and raised private
men to be fellows with kings. Without force or opposition, it
70 subdued the fierceness of pride and power ; it obliged sove-
reigns to submit to the soft collar of social esteem, compelled
stern authority to submit to elegance, and gave a dominating
vanquisher of laws to be subdued by manners.
But now all is to be changed. All the pleasing illusions,
75 which made power gentle and obedience liberal, whicji liar-
monized the different shades of life, and which, by a bland
assimilation, incorporated into politics the sentiments which
beautify and soften private society, are to be dissolved by this
new conquering empire of light and reason. All the decent
So drapery of life is to be rudely torn off. All the superadded
ideas, furnished from the wardrobe of a moral imagination,
which the heart owns, and the understanding ratifies, as
necessary to cover the defects of our naked, shivering nature,
and to raise it to dignity in our own estimation, are to be
85 exploded as a ridiculous, absurd, and antiquated fashion.
On this scheme of things, a king is but a man ; a queen is
but a woman; a woman is but an animal, and an animal not
of the highest order. All homage paid to the sex in general
BURKE.
455
sensibility of
stain like a
ited ferocity,
icii vice itself
lad its origin
gh varied in
irs, subsisted
rations, even
extinguished,
has given its
I has distin-
listinguished
lossibly from
it periods of
confounding
ded it down
this opinion
lised private
Dpposition, it
ibliged sove-
11, compelled
dominating
ng illusions,
whicji har-
by a bland
nents which
)lved by this
II the decent
superadded
imagination,
ratifies, as
ring nature,
n, are to be
fashion.
; a queen is
animal not
X in general
as such, and without distinct views, is to be regarded as
romance and folly. Regicide, and parricide, and sacrilege, 90
are but fictions of superstition, corrupting jurisprudence by
destroying its simplicity. The murder of a king, or a queen,
or a bishop, or a father, are only common homicide; and if
the people are by any chance, or in any way, gainers by it, a
sort of homicide much the most pardonable, and into which 95
we ought not to make too severe a scrutiny.
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, iw
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 tlicir Academy, at
the end of every vista, you see nothing but the gallows. No-
thing is left which engages the affections on the part of the 105
commonwealth. On the principles of this mechanic pliiloso-
phy, 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 affection is incapable of filling their place. These no
public affections, combined with manners, are required some-
times 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: — Noii satis est pulchra esse poci)i(jta,diilci(i siiiito. There 115
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 comitry, our country ought to be lovely.
1. Justify tht stateinent on p. 444, U. 104-107.
2. Criticise with illustrations the Elements and Qualities of Burke's style.
}. Show from the second selection that Hurke is a master of Metaphor.
Refer to Critical estimate, pp. 444-445, and show to what extent the selec-
tions illustrate the other peculiarities of Burke's style, as stated therein.
4. Criticise the literary form of the following':— p. 447. !•• 30-32 and 42-
52; p. 44S, 11. 87 and 90; and p. 455, 11. 9^-93 and iij-115.
Composition.
Summarize the first selection, stating concisely Burke's arguments.
iii^'Hi^if
M .'
"i I
' I.
GOLDSMITH.
BioGRAPH.CAU-Oliver Goldsmith was born November 29th. 1728 at
Pal as, county of Longforu, Ireland. His father was a clergyman, whose
portrait the son is^supposed to have given us in The Deserted Village and
The Vuar of WakeficU. Goldsmith's life is a mari<ed exception to the usual
S even tenor of a literary career. He was sent tc local schools, and in time
to Trinity College. Dublin; but neither at school nor at the university
was he an earnest student. Many a story is told of his idleness and want
of thought, and. above all. of his tenderness of heart. On leaving college
his friends proposed various schemes for his future, but they were all frus-
xo rated by his constitutional carelessne.ss. At last, in 1752. after being a
tutor for a year and making an attempt to study law in Dublin, he attended
the Medical School at Edinburgh. Here it was the same s^.ory of idleness
and good-natured carelessness as in Dublin. From Edinburgh in less
than two years he removed to Leyden to study anatomy and chemistry, but
IS the gaming table had more attractions for him than the university Then
in 1755, with only a guinea in his purse, and a very scanty wardrobe'
he set out on a tour through Europe, dependent, part of the way at least'
on what he could beg. or earn by his flute. In 1756 he returned to England '
and reached Loudon with only three halfpence in his pocket Matters
=.0 now went hard with him. At different times he was chemist, physician
GOLDSMITH.
457
,„tor \t I'eckham he made the acquaintance <.f a London hookseller
named Grimths, who persuaded hi.n to return to London and ur.t. for
"l e Mouthlv Rcrin.. This employment was slavery for (.ohlsm, h, and he
dnndoned' it within a year, Then he tried to obtain a medical appo.nt-
tn at Coromandel, bat was rejected by the (-oUe.e of Surgeons. iter .3
this he took up his abode in the din^dest part of London, and devoted him-
self to literature. His first publication of note was an I,u,,un ,nto the
Present State of Polite Literature in Europe. With the appearance of / he
Traveller in 1764. began better times. Henceforth he rose stead.y uUo
-Z and took his place as one of the literary leaders of the penod. becom- 30
ing a conspicuous member of the Johnsonian circle. "1 hough h.s works
bnn.ght him large sums of money, he was always .n distress on account o
debt brought on bv extravagance. He had the "knack of hopmg, and
lived in to-day without a thought of to-morrow, his go(,d-natnre exposing
him continually to the wiles of impostors. In the spring of 1774 h's ^i h- 35
culties reached a crisis, and mental distress aggravated an unusually
severe attack of a disease to which he was subject. An attempt at self-
tre-itment only made matters worse. He died on the 4th of April. 1,74.
and was buried in Westminster Abbey. No literary man of his time was
more generally lamented, for with all his faults he was sincerely loved. 40
Works -Inquiry into the Present State of Polite Literature in Europe
(I7S0). The Citizen of the WorM : A reprint of his Chinese Letters, con-
tributed to the Publie Ledger, the property of bookseller ^''^^^I'^O'-/"
whose employment he remained till 1764. The Traveller, or A Prospeet of
Society {1764) : An attempt to unite the didactic with the descriptive poem. 45
C.oldsmith represents himself as spending a pensive hour •' where Alpine
solitudes ascend," and looking downward " where an hundred rc.alms ap-
pear " The varied scenes thus presented he views with delight, but sighs
to see the hoard of human bliss so small, and wishes "to find some spot to
real happiness consigned." Each thinks "his first, best country ever is at 50
home." The poet concludes that —
" Still shall wisdom find
An equal portion dealt to all mankind ;
As different tjood, l)y art or nature yiven,
To different nations makes their blessings even."
55
Charles Fox pronounced The Traveller one of the finest poems in the
English language, and Dr. Johnson, now one of Goldsmith's friends, de-
clared that its merit was so well establishe.l that Mr. Fox's praise could
not augment it, nor his censure di inish it. In our literary history, the
poem is remarkable as the first expression in English verse of an mterest 60
in foreign scenes and foreign people. The Viear of WakefeUl (17^.0) : I his
exquisite work, "the first genuine novel of domestic life," abounds in im-
probabilities and in faults of construction ; but the style is admirable for its
ease and simplicity, its good humor and kindly feeling. With Sir Walter
Scott "we bless the memory of an author who contrives so well to recon- 65
cile us to human nature." The Good-natured Man {17O8) : A comedy
458
ADVANCED READER.
WT,
finished some time before; but though its merits were endorsed by John
movent Carden. The naturalness of Goldsmith's .'enii.., rlirl n^* . c
70 suit the public taste. Sentimentalism was th^n the fX n ". . "'
Th.s poem ^vas as popular as 77.. Traveller, aud ran through four editions
in a year. Hntory of England (1771). She Stoops to ConnL "76,? S
73 Comedy, produced at Covent Garden, proved r/markably' ,cces'sad' ic
litett ' '° "/■ ^'""""' '^ '^ " '^^ ^'^^^ 'h'"« °f i'« kin'd in t,: Kng Lh
hterature of the eighteenth century." A History of th ^ r \i "^, ''
^«. Mature : This work the aufhor d^d fc!: H 'e t'^^coUnf b:" ik{
h:s H.stor.es, the part he finished is, to use Johnson's wore s^ as enter
^:^^^:r u'-: '' t^'^^^- ^°-^-^- ^^-'^-ith^tnc::: n;
nlnV ll , ""^"'■y- '^'"""S °'''^'- ^q"'i"y absurd blunders he
places the ■'msidious tiger" in the backwoods of Canada Se, th
precedmg, Goldsmith wrote articles for The R • T,n T, ^
Goldsm.th s best poem,--"is the most mischievous and the most pi X'
the friendliest and faithfulest of sntir^^ •• r* . • piaylul,
.0 Garrick. Reynolds, and oters of h^noted ;rirdr "^ '°"^'^" °^ ^"^'^'
CRiTicAL.-Goldsmith's age was an age of prose. Goldsmith himself
u-as the one true poet of his time. In his higE estimate ofX didTctic
poem and pentameter couplet, as well as in the exquisite polish of his Tan
guage and versification, he resembles the poets of the Irt ficia Schiol •
" ha^\ttt:d°tr -^'^^ '^' '""^ • ^^™^' ^"' ^•'"P'^^'^^ °^ his niture he
tr'nsnosh on h' T''^^ 'P'^''*'' '°^'^' constructions, and unnatural
tran.spositions. H.s thoughts, too, are conceived in paragraphs not in
Thitonht C .l'"r-°?'^ ^^"'^^^ ^^^'^ dispelled'the chUness of h"
philosophy. Go.dsmith is the most versatile author of the eighteenth cen
'°' nl hi"' """ ""''' '"°^^'" '-^^ '-^ P°«^' he has made good his claim to
rank high amongst novelists, historians, and moralists In a 1 he his
written here is the charm of an easy, perspicuous style: with hs humor
first Bt::r: "' 't^^-^i^' ''^'•^--^^^ °^ ^h-'^-^^' ^^^^ '^-^ this LmZ
first. But poetry was h.s - solitary pride " ; on it he bestowed a care and a
.0, abor hat were denied to his prose. The diction of his poems is stngularly
;^'"but "'^,™''— r'-. l^"t deftly chosen; hisLnstrucUonT^
pie, but studiously sought; and his style clear and luminous thoudi
occasiona ly defaced by negligence and carelessness. No writer in our
anguage has surpassed him in unaffected simplicity; subt e tu ns of
■■° H "^ \:r;.rr 'T' • "' '^•^^"^^'°" • ^^"^'^ '-- ^^ mo. lent and
_Klicac,y and punty of sentiment. Nor has he many equals in deliLhtfuI
humor, in amiable satire, and in idyllic tenderness' Genillity t^j
! ^1
GOLDSMITH.
459
nature the characteristics of the man, are the nevcr-failinR characteristics
of the kuthor Goldsmith's range of subjects is limited by his experience ;
but uithin this limit his mastery is supreme. The skill of the true artist ns
is seen in his use of his materials. Hut his limitations proved to be one
source of his greatness; they secured that truth and natuix- one touch of
which " makes the whole world kin." He drew at hrst hand for his works
from his own experience of life; and his own sorrows had broadened his
sympathies and chastened his humor. The defects of his imiigination wo
were counterbalanced by his powers of observation. These gained for h.m
-, store of gentle wisdom and fond remembrance. !• rom the memories o
an eventful life he selected for his poems the gayest, the pleasantest. and
"the most pathetic; and, mingling with them natural thoughts and natural
feelings, he united all into one delightful whole of vivid description. <iua.nt
iov pensive sadness, and tender images reflected from the calm depths of
philosophic meditation-a result, too, as fresh and as charming as when
lirst his readers hung over his pages.
'15
THE DESERTED VILLAGE.
IsTKOVVCTonY. -Tlw Deserted VilUw displays its author's characteris-
tics more fully than any other product of his genu.s. In particular it
lviden?es L grace and truthfulness of his descriptions of Nature. I issoy.
where his brother had a living, is said to have been the origmal from
hich he drew the idyllic picture of " sweet Auburn." If so. U is issoy
seen through mists of memory, that lent "enchantment to the view Ihe
'HI iJe preacher has been identified with his father and his brother and
; e;?'wi^h his incle; the village master, with I'addv Hyrne the teacher
of hs boyhood. The descriptions, however, are so life-like that we enjoy
Idr beauu , regardless of the source of the poet's inspiration. Hut ( .old-
rn ith had ?n view a didactic as well as an artistic P^XiTthe parent of
to elaborate the thesis that the accumulation of weaUh is the parent ot
StiSial" ils, including that of depopul-.tion. The leading idea of the
p^Lm he had already thrown out in The Travclkr. " Have we not seen,
^ " opulence her t;randear to m;iintain.
Lead stern depoinilation in liur train ;
And over fields wliere scattered hamlets rose.
In l)arren solitary pomp repose?
Have we not seen, at pleasure's lordly r.all,
Tlie smiling long-frequented village iall ?
Beheld the duteous son, the sne decayed.
The modest matron, and the hlusliin^; maid.
Forced from tlieir homes, a melancholy train,
To traverse climes beyond the western mam ; -
Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around.
And Niagara stuns with thundering sound .'"
Sweet Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheered the laboring swain,
Literary —Observe throughout melody of the verse which harmo-
the authors clearness, and felicity of nizes (13, III., i and 2) with tho
language and consummate ease and pensive mood in winch the poem is
mastery of style. Observe also the conceived. Describe the metre.
460
ADVANCED READER.
»5
I I
:< I
ao
Where sn.ilinK s,,rM,K ils e,„li,.,,t visit nai,l
And parting sumnurs lingerinK l>lo<„„ ' lelLye,! ■
^ IJeur iovely howers of innocence .,n,l ...se '
^e.U.s „ ,ny youtl,, ,vl,en every spo,. could please
How often have I loitered o'er thy green
V here luunhle happiness endeare.l'each ,cene I
How often have I paused on every char,-,
1 he sheltered cot, the ciltivated farn,.
The never.failing brook, the husy null,
1 he decent church that toppe<i the neighI>oring hill
The hawthorn hush, with seats beneath the hade
For talknrg age and whispering lovers n,ade '
How often have I blest the conung day
When tod retnitting lent its turn to plav'.
And all the village train, fro, , labor free
While';,, ■ '"""' ''"""'"' "><= ='t"-«'<Hng tree •
VVlHle n,any a pastime circled in the shade
The young contending as the old surveyed ■
And many a gan.bol frolicked o'er the ground
And stl'f ts T ""' '"'''' "f ^'-"«"> -'" -und
And sti 1, as each repeated pleasure tired
S„cceed,ng sports the n,irthful band inspired-
The dancng pa,r that sin,ply sought renown
By holdmg out to tire each other down ■
The swau,, n,istrustless of his snn.tted face
Wh, ie secret laughter tittered round the pUce-
The bashful virgm's sidelong looks of love
^.TT.TT ""• ^™"''' '"°- '^-^^ «P-ve.
as
30
35
GOLDSMITH.
Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's liand is seen,
And desolation saddens all thy Kreen :
One only nuister j^rasps the whole domain,
And half a tiliuKe stints thy snulint,' plain.
No niori; thy ^^lassy brook reflects the day.
But, choked with sed^'es, works its weedy way ;
Alonj; thy glades, a solitary guest.
The hollow sounding bittern guards its nest;
Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing tlies,
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all,
And the long grass o'ertops the mouldermg wall;
And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler s hand,
Far, far away thy children leave the land.
Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay:
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade—
A breath can make them, as a breath has made-
Hut a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
A time there was, ere England's griefs began.
When every rood of ground maintained its man ;
For him light labor spread her wholesome store,
Just gave what life required but gave no more:
His best companions, innocence and heahh;
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.
But times are ahered: trade's unfeeling train
Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain:
Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose.
Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose;
And every want to opulence allied,
And every pang that folly pays to pride.
461
4<»
45
50
55
60
65
CX-.4. Discuss the truth of the and comment on its siRnificrince in
staterktnts in 11. 5i-5a and il. 57-74 our If.-^y ''^^^^^j .^.^..^ ' "^
Quote a parallel passage to 11. 53-54 ^"S'- ^it., pp. I45 and 151 iS^.
from "TheCotter's Saturday Night, , 59. why " /itT wholesome store .
70
iiiHia
V
A
'■ 'iF
> •:
lit i.
75
83
FMli'l'i
(iJ
8s
90
9S
100
Those Kontle hoprs that plenty hade to hlooni. •
Those cahn .lesircs that askcl h,.t little room,
Those healthful sports that ,na,-e.l the peaceful scene,
L vcd m each look, and brightened all the f^reen ;
lliese, far departing,', seek a kinder shore
And rural mirth and manners are no more.
Su-eet Auburn! parent of the blissh.l hour.
1 hy Klades forlorn confess the tryanfs power.
Here, as I take my solitary rounds
Amidst thy tan^dinf,^ walks, and ruined groimds.
And, many a year elapsed, return to view
\\here once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew
Reniembrance wakes with all her busy train
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to p^in.
In all my wanderings round this world of care
In a my griefs-and God has given my share-'
1 still had hopes, my latest hours to crown
Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;
lo husband out life's taper at the close
And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
1 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 pu-sue
Pants to the place from whence at first he flew.'
1 still had hopes, my long vexations past
Here to return— and die at home at last.'
O blest Retirement, friend to life's decline
Retreats from care, that never must be mine'
How happy he who crowns, in shades like these
A youth of labor with an age of ease •
tic purpose. , F"idbt,.
«5. my latest-crown. What is 92. Criticise this line.
GOLDSMITH
463
Wlio quits a world wluTc strong tcuipiations try,
And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly!
For him no wretches, born to work and weep,
Explore the mine, or tempt the danf^eroiis deep;
No surly porter stands in f^uilty stati",
To spurn imploring famine from the gate;
But on lie moves to meet his latter ind,
Angels around befrientling N'irtue's friend ;
Bends to the grave with unperceived decay,
While Resignation gently slopes the way;
And, all his prospects brightening to the last.
His Heaven commences ere the world be past.
Sweet was the soimd, when oft, at evening's close.
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose;
There, as I passed, with careless steps and slow,
The mingling notes came softened from below;
The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung.
The sober herd tliat lowed to meet their young;
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool.
The playful children just let loose f:om school;
The watch-dog's voice that bayed the -vhispering wind.
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind.
These all in sweet confusion sought the sh.ade,
And filled eacii pause the nightingale had made.
But now the sounds of population fail.
No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale,
No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,
But all the bloomy flush of life is fled ;
All but yon widowed, solitary thing,
That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;
She, wretched matron, forced, in age, for bread,
To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread.
To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn.
To seek her nightly shed, and w^eep till morn;
los
110
IIS
"5
130
lull of this
1 13-136. Note the idyllic beauty of iiS. to meet— young. Express as
this description, and the effective use a clause,
of Contrast.
"ail 'i^ ■
I.
iiy..jj:
; i
f
464
'35
140
'45
ISO
>6S
ADVANCED READER.
She only left of all the harmless train,
iiie sad historian of the pensive j)lain !
And st.ll ^^ heie many a garden flower grows wild •
There where a few torn shrubs the plaice hsc os '
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 rom towns he ran his godly race,
Nor e er had changed, nor wished to change his nl.ce.
Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power ^
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hou^-
More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise
His house was known to all the vagrant train
He chid their wanderings, hut relieved their pain •
The long-remembered beggar was his guest
|\ hose beard descending swept his aged br;asf
Ihe ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud
Canned kindred there, and had his'clJiral'lowed-
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay.
Sat by his fire, and talked the night away;
o) eP o er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done
^^t^'-'^'^ ^"f ^^'--^ h-^' fields ::ere won.
And nnif. f : ^"ests, tlie good man learned to glow
And quite forgot their vices in their woe •
Careless their merits or their faults to scan.
"IS pity gave ere charity began.
Tims to relieve the wretched was his pride
And e en his failings leaned to Virtue's suie
But m his duty prompt at every call
He watched and wept, he praj'ed and felt for all;
•'F^iv^^S^''t£°'i:^;;^^ Explain ..the,",. 1,7.
the ..Patl4tic Fallacy V^''"'^^^M'^^'.»^«;;i- ^391 "passing:"!. \%'.
137-192. Name other writers who auth'o7l\,se o?the''uT.r"' T •^''^
have produced descriptions similar ' here and els:whe;e1n'tlu/poem:''" ''
"55
160
ggSii'Mja i S Mteia
aOf.DSMITII.
And, as a l)ii(l each fond endeaniu'iit tries
To tempt its new-Hedf^ed offspriiif,^ to the skies.
He tried each art, reproved each (hill delay,
Alluretl to bri^diter worlds, and led the way.
Beside tlie l)ed where parting; life was laid.
And sorrow, fi^uilt, and pain, by turns dismayed.
The reverend ehamjiion stood. At his control
Despair and anj,uiish tied the slru^^i;linf; soul;
Comfort came down the trembling" wretcli to raise.
And his last falterin<; accents whis})ered praise.
At church, with meek and miaffected '^riicv.
His looks adorned the venerable place:
Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.
The service past, around the pious man.
With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran ;
b:'en children followed with endearin;,^ wile.
And plucked liis fjfown to share tl
4^5
le 'rood man's s
His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed,
Their welfare pleased liim, and the
niik
To them his heart, his love, hi
ir cares distressed
ns neart, lus love, his f^nets were f,nven.
But all his serious thou<,dits had rest in heaven :
As some tall cliff that lifts its mvful form.
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Tliough round its breast the rolling clouds are spread.
Eternal sunshine-settles on its head.
170
'75
180
'85
190
>2t
Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
Witli blossomed furze, unprofitably gay,
There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule,
The village master taught his little school.
A man severe he was, and stern to view,
I knew him well, and every truant knew;
195
189-192. Note the sublimity of this
famous Simile. Discuss the gram-
matical atructurc and relation uf this
sentence.
FF
193-210. Observe that the demure
humor of this description heightens
the pleasurable eltect ot the prevail-
ing tone of pensive sadness.
466
ADVANCED READER.
\\'ell had the boding tremblers learned to trace
200 The day's disasters in his morning face;
Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ;
Full well the busy whisper, circling round,
Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.
ao5 Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in fault.
The village all declared how much he knew,
'Twas certam he could write, and cipher too ;
Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,
"° And e'en the story ran that he could gauge ;
In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill.
For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still ;
While words of learned length and thundering sound,
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around,
215 And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew,
That one small head could carry all he knew.
But past is all his fame. The very spot
Where many a time he triumphed, is forgot.
Near yonder thorn that lifts its head on high,
220 Where once the sign -post caught the passing eye.
Low lies that house where nut-brown ciraughts inspired,
Where gray-beard mirth, and smiling toil retired.
Where village statesmen talked with looks profound.
And news much older than their ale went round.
225 Imagination fondly stoops to trace
The parlor splendors of that festive place ;
The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor.
The varnished clock that clicked behind the door;
The chest contrived a double debt to pay,
230 A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day;
The pictures placed for ornament and use,
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ;
The hearth, except when winter chilled the day.
With aspen boughs, and flowers and fennel gay ;
235 While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show.
Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row.
CfOI.DSMITH
Vain transitory splendors! could not all
Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall?
Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more imjiart
An hour's importance to the poor man's heart;
Thither no more the peasant shall rejjaii
To sweet oblivion of his daily care;
No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,
No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail;
No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear.
Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear;
The host himself no longer shall he found
Careful to see the mantling bliss go round ;
Nor the coy maid, half willing to be pressed,
Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.
467
340
»4S
250
1. Classify "The Deserted Village," aiul name other poems of the same
class.
2. State and criticise Cioldsmith's philosophical views.
3. Refer to those passages in which the poet may be supposed to have
given his own experiences.
4. Make a list of the mannerisms, poetic licenses, and instances of ( are-
lessness in the poem.
5. Point out the passages especially remarkable for their beauty, and
show in what it consists.
G. Give an account of the condition of English Literature when (iold-
smith wrote, and of his chief literary contemporaries. (See Prim of Eutr
/.//., pp. 125-146.) -^ *••
7. Apply the remarks in the Critical estimate, pp. 458-4^0, to "The
Deserted Village."
Composition.
I. Describe, after Goldsmith, the Village Preacher, Schoolmaster, and
Inn.
II. Contrast Auburn in its decay with Auburn in its prosperity.
POPE.
Biographical. — Pope was born on the 21st of Mny, 1688, in the city of
London. His father, who was enfjaged in the linen trade, having realized
a competency, retired to the country, near Windsor Forest. There he and
his family lived till 1716, when they removed to Chiswick. Pope was a
5 sickly deformed boy, somewhat hunchbacked, but he had penetrating,
dark-brown eyes, and a bright, intelligent face. When grown up, he was
only four feet in height, with a short body and disproportionately long
arms. After attending one or two Catholic seminaries— for he was a
Roman Catholic—till he was not quite twelve years old, he left school,
10 and took to reading by himself. " In a few years," he says, " I had dipped
into a very large number of English, French, Italian, Latin and Greek
poets." Pope was, therefore, a self-cultivated man. His poetical gift
showed itself early: "he lisped in numbei for the numbers came. ' His
first long poem, the Pastonils, he wrote when he was only sixteen, though
15 it was not published till ^709. From this year we may date the beginning
■hf his fame. The Essay on Criticisni, which followed in 171 1, secured for
him at once the first place amongst the poets of his time— a success attri-
butable as much to his own abilities as to the literary chaos that sur-
rounded him, In 1713 he made the acquainiancc of Swift, and the
ao intimacy then begun continued for about a quarter of a century. In the
von:
469
same year he was introduced by Swift to llarlcy, I'.arl of Oxford, to Lord
HoliiiRbrokc, and to Atterbiiry, Hishojxif Koclicster. lie was also intimate
with Trior, Arbutlinot, and (lay. I'oliticali\, I 'ope occupied an independ-
ent position. His closest friends, indeed, were Toriis, but in the latter
part of his life he showed a leaninj; towards the Whiffs. Offers of ,1 pen- .'.^
sion from (iovernnient he was able to refuse. "Thanks to Homer," he
could say, after the remarkable pecuniary success th.it attended his transla-
tion of the Iliitii,
" I live ,iii<l llirivc,
Iiiilobted to no prince or peer .ilivc." ;o
On his father's death, in 1717, he bou^'lit a jiretty villa at Twickenli.im, .ind
resided there with his mother, whom he dearly loved, and for whom his
afTection is probab'y the noblest trait in his character. At Twickenham,
he indulf,'ed his great passion for landscajM- gardeninf,', convertinj,' into a
grotto the little tunnel under the high road which divided his property. ,!5
There, he says, he could sit with his friends, undisturbed by the distant
din of the world. There, too were written the poems of his riper years.
But his constitutional irritability kept him constantly on the move. Though
little interested in politics, he liked to be near the vortex of political com-
motion. His visits to London were freipient, and the Twickenham villa, 40
besides being the favorite resort of his friends, was the centre of attraction
for the interviewers of the time. From an early age Pope had been an
invalid, and at a later period he required unremitting attention. He was
peevish, resentful, and ill-tempered— so much so that he was called by a
quondam friend "the wicked wasp of Twickenham "—a disposition largely 45
due, we may believe, to the "long disease" of his life. His irresistible
propensity to satire may be attributed to the same cause, though the literary
condition of the period was provocative of this style of composition. Worn
out at last by a complication of diseases, he died on the joth of May, 1744,
and was buried by his own directions in a vault in Twickenham Church, 50
near the monument erected to his parents.
Principai, Works.— Pope's works belong to three distinct periods. The
first is chiefly one of experiment ; the great work of the second is his Trap-
lation of Homer; and in his later years appeared his moral and satirical
poems. His first production in print was the Pastorals, published in 1709, 55
remarkable mainly as evidencing, even at this period of his career, the
melody of his versification. In 1711 was published the Essay on Critinsin,
a didactic poem embodying in terse and pointed couplets those maxims on
poetical composition which had been the common property of all genera-
tions of writers. It displays his singular skill in clothing old sayings with 60
the appearance of novelty. To apply his own words, the work contains
"what oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed." The Eh-^y to the
Memory of an Unfortunate Yonnfr Lady and The Epistle of Eloisa to
Abelard are really pathetic as well as ex<iuisitely written ; but there is a
false ring in the morality of the Latter. They are especially remarkable 65
as displaying Pope's sentim.entalism, an element that is generally wanting in
his poetry. The Rape of the Lock (1714) is a mock-heroic poem —according
470
ADIANCEI) READER.
IMj
to Addison •■.1 delicious little tiling," and in the opinion of Macaulay, his
best poem, liut the conspicuous position I -opt; occupied in Literature
70 during his life-time is due mainly to his translation of Homer. Although
at first reduced almost to despair by the magnitude of the task, he suc-
ceeded in finishing ihv. Iliad in 1720 and the Clysscv in 1726. Pecuniarily
the work was a great success, and at the time was by most supposed to be
an excellent rendering, liecent criticism has, however, reversed this judg-
7S ment. It is a curi.nis commentary on Pope's "mechanic art," that the
last twelve books of the Odyssey were translated, not by the ostensible
author, but by two scholars named Fenton and Broome. In 1725 appeared
his Edition of Shakespeare : The work shows some ingenuity; but Pope
did not possess the knowledge neces.sary for the commentator of such an
80 author, nor could he fully appreciate a u Iter of the Elizabethan era. By
this time Pope's great success, and the vanity, malignity, and supercilious-
ness of his nature had rai.sed round him a swarm of enemies These he
determined to attack in a body, "from slashing Bentley down to piddling
libalds." lH)r this purpose he wrote the Duneiad, or Epic of Dunces
85 and Theobald, who had severely criticised his edition of Shakespeare'
occupied at first the "bad eminence" of the throne of Dulness, a position
he supposes to have been left vacant by the death of Shadwell. After-
wards, however, he inappropriately substituted Colley t^ibber's name for
Theobald's. The Duneiad is the bitterest and most powerful literary satire
9°m our language. But "it is disfigured by mere outbursts of personal
spleen, and, in its later form, by attacks on men whose last fault was
dulness. ' In the main the Duneiad vv-as "a noble vindication of Literature
from the herd of dullards and dunces that had usurped its name ; a pro-
test against the claims of the journalist or pamphleteer, of the compiler
95 of facts and dates, or the grubber among archives, to the rank of men
of letters." But even before the Duneiad was completed, signs had
appeared of the great literary revival that marked the c'ose of the
eighteenth century. The success of this satire had shown Pope that his
true strength lay in combining personalities with moral reflections
100 and for the next ten years, from 1730 to 1740, he devoted himself to this
kind of composition, producing at various times during the period Moral
hssays. Essay on Man, Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Imitations of Horace and
Epilo^rue to the Satires. The most famous of these is the Essay on Man ■
A didactic poem on the origin of evil— a subject then agitat'ing men's
.OS minds. For most of his ideas in the work Pope was indebted to his friend
Bo mgbroke. But the peculiarities of Pope's genius are shown in their
highest state of development in the Satires and Epistles of Horace Imitated
-in reality, however, the most original of his productions, for, as War-
burton observes, "Our author uses the Roman Poet for little more than
wo his canvas."
llili. H
CRiTicAL.-In Pope, the Artificial School found its highest exponent
As Wordsworth marks the culmination of -he reaction against the artifi-
ciality of Pope, so Pope marks the culmination of the reaction against the
POPE.
471
extravagances of the later Elizabethans. (See Prim, of Kiif;. Lit., p. ick).)
He is the typical representative of a style of composition which pervaded 115
{•'nplish poetry from the Restoration till the French Revolution. Dnrinj;
this period the great object ot English literary effort was to attain perfec-
tion in form. Terseness, melody, and correctness of diction — these were
the qualities the reading public recjuired, and in these I'ope excelled. His
defects are simply the result of undivided attention to Art. I'ope was not 120
a poet in the highest sen.se of the term. He did not possess the depth of
thought, the broad sympathy, the divine tenderness, the lofty sentiment, the
sublime invention of Milton or of Shakespeare. Hut as ;i literary artist he
has few equals. Any thought satisfied him that recommended itself to his
understanding; but each thought must be turned over till reduced to its 125
neatest and most epigrammatic expression. As has been well said, " Pope's
business was not to make gems, but to set them." After the fashion of the
time, he affected for poetry a peculiar vocabulary, which, in his followers,
became more and more divorced from natural feeling. To use the words
of Covvper, he
" Made poetry a mere inecliaiiic art, '3°
And every warbler liad his tiuie by heart."
Exquisite finish, pungent wit, strong common sense, brilliancy of descrip-
tion, epigrammatic and intellectual force, symmetry and balance, perfec-
tion and harmony of parts, smoothness and elegance of rhythm — these are
his merits. On the other hand, he shows little, if any, originality, and »35
but few traces of natural emotion. His was not the art that conceals art.
His verse wearies by the hard monotony of its cadence. He abounds in
poetical epithets, technical phrases, and ready-made sentiment. Truth he
often sacrifices to point an epigram or turn a couplet, and his satire is
often bitterly personal and vindictively unjust. In brief. Pope lacks ear- 140
nestness and truthfulness of feeling, as well as directness and simplicity of
expression. But his matter is valuable as a reflection of the moral and
social condition of the eighteenth century. He was a poet of the city, and
in his pages we find a record of the "varying vanities" of the fashionable
world. Belinda's ravished lock is for Pope a more fitting subject than ms
some real loss that makes the heart " with voiceless sorrow ache." " Love "
he had not found "in huts where poor men lie"; nor had his "daily
teachers" been
" woods and rills,
The silence that is in the starry sky, 150
The sleep that is amonn the lonely hills."
It was reserved for Burns and for Wordsworth to show
" How verse may build a princely throne
On humble truth."
But to I'ope the English language owes a debt of gratitude. More than 155
any one else, he discovered its power of melody and developed its capacity
for concise and brilliant expression. The writer who now desires the
respect of posterity must unite with genius, bo it ever so great, the ability to
" File off the mortal part
Of glowing thought with Attic art." 160
472
EPISTLE TO DR.
ADVANCED READER.
ARHUTIINOT: OK,
SATIRES.
PROLOGUE TO THE
not .hat I 'cpe really was, but what ho wi'shod othc.s to nk^ h n '^os "
Iv too, what he cndoavored to persuade himself that he was Part" f
the poem, notably the fam.n.s description of Addison, had been p, blislu [
as fragments, and written many years before; but, a thoudi f il ent r '
in ongm the Zs/./.7/. is one of the most htiished o the aShor's a nn: s7
T h.V f, ^^^t^i-tisement," on its first publication. Pope himself savs
I had no thoughts of publishing it till it'plea.sed some persins of r^^„L
?of whi -h"'; "■ ■'""''^ r" ''' r'^' '•'■^''•'■^'"•^'i"-'^'- y „,anner not only my vJritTngs
(of which being public, the Public is judge), but my pers.m morals n ml
SS;; ^hr'"?ll;" / T "v i:T- -^-Va truer'i?fv"m;u;on" a/^
requisite. 1 he attacks which had espec ally roused I'ooe's wrnth LZ.
by Lady Mary Wortley Montague and Lord He v"y, v^Eosl enm tv^ e
had provoked by h,s first I,„itatio„s of Horace: but at the tinT f t u'
publication of the A>/.,//., he had need of all the support the j iXment «
his friends and his own consciousness of right could bes ow for he L
raised a tempest amongst the small fry of his literar enemies bv f,
s imiS'ortirr^;/''''/'"'''''- '''^''""«'^ ^ ^^ oTZu^r.X
^is/^jiu^l^^e:' ^^ii^rsiuV'ir s'^n iss;^ ^ht
istic specimen of the author's style, in itsixquisitdy p XsSl veJse inH
occasional gleams of genuine poetry, we cannot but adme the hi^h lone
morality of the sentiments, even if we suspect the sinceSy of the amhor
P. Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigued, I said
Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead.
The Dog-star rages! nay, 'tis past a doubt,
All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out:
LiTER.ARV. — Observe throughout
the poem the author's merits— his
artistic correctness, exquisite finish
and smoothness of rhythm {13, lll.i
i); his satiric force (13, II., 3), pun-
gent wit (13, II., 3), and epigram-
matic power (12, IV., 38); his strong
common sense, vivid and brilliant
description, and the dramatic viva-
city with which the whole scene is
given. Observe also his lefects— his
artifice, technical vocabulary, ellip-
tical and anithetical style {e.g., 11. l
141-162 and 266-291), professional !
sentiments [e.g., II. 215-236), unjust
and too personal satire [e.g., 11. 237- '
265), sacrifice of truth to point (e.g.,
11. (41-162), and monotonous versifi-
cation. Point out, as the literary
I analysis proceeds, the variations in
I the author'c mood, and especially
I distinguish those passages where the
•■ feeling seems to be unaffected. Ex-
plain the persortal allusions, and crit-
icise the truthfulness of the descrip-
tions.
I 1-14- Make a tabular statement of
I the metrical structure of these lines,
indicating and commenting upon the
position of the Caesura! pause. Con-
trast I'ope's use of the Caesura with
that of Cowper and of Tennyson.
popi:.
473
UE TO THIC
Fire in each eye, and pajXTs in each hand.
Tliey ra'.e, recite, and madilen round the land.
What walls can guard me. or what shades can hide?
They pierce my thickets, throuj^di my f,'rot they },dide,
By land, by water, they renew the charj^e.
They stop the chariot, and they hoard tlie harp;e.
No i)lace is sacred, not the church is hee.
Even Sunday shines no Sabbath-da}- to me:
Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme,
Plappy! to catch me, just at chnner-time.
Is there a parson much be-mused in beer,
A maudlin poetess, a rhymiiif,' peer,
A clerk foreiloomed his father's soul to cross.
Who pens a stanza, when he should enf,noss?
Is there, who, locked from ink and paper, scrawls
With desperate charcoal round his darkened walls ?
All fly to Twic'nam, and in humble strain
Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain
'Tis sunjjf, when Midas' ears bej^an to spring,
(Midas, a sacred person and a king,)
His very minister who spied them first
(Some say his queen,) was forced to speak or b\irst.
And is not mine, my friend, a sorer case.
When ever}'^ coxcomb perks them in my face?
A. Good friend, forbear! you deal in dang'rous things.
I'd never name queens, ministers, or kings;
Keep close to ears, and those let asses prick,
"Tis nothing — " P. Nothing? if they bite and kick?
Out with it, Dunciad ! let the secret pass.
That secret to each fool, that he's an ass;
The truth once told (and wherefore should we lie?)
The Queen of Midas slept, and so may I.
You think this cruel ? take it for a rule.
No creature smarts so little as a fool.
Let peals of laughter, Codrus ! round thee break,
Thou unconcerned canst hear the mighty crack :
«5
as
30
35
40
1-22. Is Pope's emotion here as-
sumed ?
39-42. What quality of style have
we here ?
474
AnVANCF.n READ Eh'.
P>t, box, and -allery in convulsions In.rled
Hmu ,tan<rst .nishook amidst a bursting' world.
Who sluuMos a scribl.lc.r? break one cobweb throu-d,
He spms the^sh.du, self-pleasin^, threa.l anew : '^
Destroy his fib, or sophistry, in van,,
1 be creat.re's at his dirty work again,
i hroned ni the centre of his thin desifr„s
1 roud of a vast extent of flimsy lines '
Whom have I hurt? has poet yet, or peer.
Lost the archd eyebrow, or Parnassian sneer?
Does not one table Bavins still admit ?
Sti to one bishop Philips seem a wit ?
Stdl Sappho-- A. Hold! for God's sake-you'll offend
No names be cahn-learn prudence of a friend:
1 too could write, and I am twice as tall-
But foes like these- P. One flatterer's worse than all
Of all mad creatures, if the learned are right,
It IS the slaver kills, and not the bite
A fool quite angry is quite innocent :
Alas! 'tis ten times worse when they repent
One dedicates in high heroic prose.
And ridicules beyond a hundred foes-
One from all Grub Street will my fame defend,
And more abusive, calls himself my friend.
his prints my Letters, that expects a bribe.
And others roar aloud, " Subscribe, subscribe."
There are, who to my person pay their court:
I cough like Horace, and, though lean, am short,
Amnion s great son one shoulder had too high,
Such Ovid's nose, and, " Sir ! you have an eye "-
Go on, obliging creatures, make me see
All that disgraced my betters, met in me
Say for my comfort, languishing in bed
"Just so immortal Maro held his head-'"
And when I die, be sure you let me know
Great Homer died three thousand years ago.
Why did I write? what sin to me unknown
Dipped me in ink, my parents', or my own ?
As yet
a child, nor yet a fool to fam(
I lisped in numbers, for the numbers
came.
POPE.
475
1 k'lt lu) calling,' tor this idle IraiU',
No duty broke, no fatlier disobeyi'd.
Thf imise but served to ease sonie friiMul. not wiff.
To help nie throujj;h this loii},' distasr, my bfe,
To second, Arbuthnot! th\- art and care, 85
And teach the beiiifj; yow pri-serxcd. to bear.
A. Hut why then pubUsh? P. (iranville the pohte.
And knowin}; Walsh, would tell uie 1 could write;
Well-natured (jarth inflamed with early praise,
And Con^^reve loved, and Swift endured my lays; v>
The courtly Talbot, Somers, Slullield read.
Even mitred Rochester would nod the head,
And St. John's self (j^reat Dryden's friends before).
With open arms received one poet more.
Happy my studies, when by these approved! 95
Happier their author, when by these beloved!
From these the world will judf,^,' of men and books,
Not from the Bnrnets, Oldmixons, and Cooks.
Soft were my numbers; who could take oftence
While pure description held the place of sense? «oo
Like f^entle Fanny's was my flowery theme,
A painted mistress, or a purlin^,' stream.
Yet then did Gildon draw his venal quill ;
I wished the man a dinner, and sate still.
Yet then did Dennis rave in furious fret ; J05
I never anr.wcred, I was not in debt.
If want provoked, or madness made them print,
I waged no war with Bedlam or the Mint.
Did some more sober critic come abroad;
If wrong, I smiled; if right, I kissed the rod. no
Pains, reading, study, are their just pretence.
And all they want is spirit, taste, and sense.
Commas and points they set exactly right,
And 'twere a sin to rob them of their mite.
Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel graced these ribalds, "5
From slashing Bentley down to piddling Tibalds :
Each Vvight. who reads not, and but scans and spells.
Each word-catcher that lives on syllables.
Even such small critics some regard may claim,
Preserved in Milton's or in Shakespeare's name 12°
!, !
Mr
476
•as
•30
«35
•40
«4S
«So
•55
Were others an-ry. I cxcusr.l tlu-ni too;
Udl ni.^rht ilM.y raov. I ^^ave them l„,t theii ch.e.
A man s true merit 'tis not liani to rnid;
Hut each man's secret standard in his mind,
hat castmfr.,v(,.rht pri.le adds to emptiness.
Ihis, who can -ratih? for who can -ness?
The hard whom pilfered pastorals renown.
\\ ho turns a IVrsian tale for half-a-crown.
Just writes to make his harreiniess appear
And strains, from hard-l,o,md brains, ei-hj hnes a year •
He, wlu still wantin- thou^di he lives on theft
Steals much, spends little, yet has nothin- left •
And he, who now to sense, now nonsense leaniuLr
Means not, hut blunders round about a meaning:'
And he, whose fustian's so sublimely bad.
It IS not poetry, but i)rose rmi mad :
All these, my modest satire bade translate
And owned that nine such poets made a Tate
How did they fume, and stamp, and roar, and chafe'
And swear, not Addison himself was safe
Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires
Irue genius kindles, ,nd fair fame inspires;
Blest with each talei t 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 hmi 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 j
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 flacterers besieged.
And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged ;
r4i-i02 TNote that this famous
d.'scnption illustrates Pope's most
characteristic me. its. He is always
at his best when attacking a real
personage. Observe the technical
image in 1. 142.
,i .
I'Di'E.
477
IJkc Cato, ^'\\v his littk- seiiatt- laws,
Ami sit attentive to his own applause;
While wits and templars ever\ sentiiiee raise,
And wonder with a foolish fare of praisi' — 160
Who but nuisl laui^h, if such .1 man there be?
Who would not weep, if Attieus wire he? ....
Proud as Apollo on his forked hill.
Sat full-blown I'.ufo, pulfed b\- e\('iy (jmll,
Fed with sott dedication all da\ lon^,'. «65
Horace and he went hand ni IkmkI uilh son^.
His library (where busts of poets dead
And a true Pindar stood without a head.)
Received of wits an undistiiif^nnshed race,
Who first his jud},Miient asked, and then a place; 170
Much th( \ extolled his pictures. inu( h In seal,
An<i Hatteiod every tlay. and some da\s i.it:
Till grown more fru<,'al in his riper days.
He paid some bards with port, and suine with praise;
To some a dry relu>arsal was assii^nied, 175
And otiiers (harder still) he paid ni kind.
Dryden alone (what wonder?) came not nij^di,
Dryden alone escaped this judf^dn^ eye:
Hut i^till the great have knidness in reserve,
ile helped to bury whom he helped to starve. i8o
May some choice patron l)less each gra}- goose-quill !
May every Bavins have his Bufo still !
So when a statesman vvant>. a day's defence.
Or envy holds a whole week's war with sense,
Or simple pride for flattery makes demands, . 185
May dunce l)y dunce be whistled off my hands!
Bless'd be the great ! for those they take away.
And those they left me— for they left me Gay;
Left me to see neglected genius bloom.
Neglected die, and tell it on his tomb: sgo
Of all thy blameless life, the sole return
My verse, and Queensberry weeping o'er thy urn !
Oh lei Mie live my owri, and die so too!
(To live and die is all I have to do:)
Maintain a poet's dignity and ease, 195
And see what friends, and read what books I please:
47«
300
20 i;
210
ai5
930
ADVANCED READER
225
Above a patron, though I condescend
Nor know ,f Dennis he al,ve or iaT
He!v ,j'";va:f r' "T' "'^' ^'■^" -» "-^ «Sh.'
-»meno:;j,:;r::/r::;x':;:--'
" I fonnH^ . "''' "^ ''^°"^ to save?
i round hnn close with Su-iff i., j .,
"*- ^^naal, mnocence a fpar
Orfro„.,hesoft.eyedvirg,ns,ea,r.ear.
it. ;:°„tnho:T*^^"^'«''''-'^ peace.
WK I ^^orth, or beauty n distresc:
That fop wLse nr ij/aff 'V°P'« °'" ■■
Vet absent wounds a„T.. ' ?"'""'' ™'"e'
WP,„ rounds an author's honest fam» ■
\Vl.o can your merit selfishly approve '
vvno has the van.ty to call you friend
'^I7"r^ '-"".injured, to deTend-
VV ho tells whateer you think wh=„„ '
And if h he not, nit at t^^^Z^. ^'^" ->''
la sees at Canons what was never there;
212-232. xv.si;
Pope's sincerity
Discuss the question nf 1 .u-
-ity in connlctSr.^l\'^lS^:^-^^^^^
bi^ le are here exemplified >
— ••aiiw.K.-,..,^,,
POPE.
479
Who reads but with a hist to misapply,
Make satire a huiipoou, and fiction he ;
A lash like mine no honest man shall dread, 235
But all such bahblinj^ blockheads in his stead.
Let Sporus tremble. — A. 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 ? 24"
P. Yet let me flap this buj; with {gilded wnif^s,
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 m
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, »5o
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, 255
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, flatterer at the board, 260
Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord.
Eve's tempter thus the Rabbins have expressed,
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. 265
Not fortune's worshipper, nor fashion's fool.
Not lucre's madman, nor ambition's tool,
237-241. Observe, as in 11. 141-162,
that every word is alive when the
morality or his satire is pointed by
home concrete and personal instance.
Pope's lines begin to glow as soon as
he expresses his personal antipathies
or personal attachments.
i()b-z^)i. Note the highly elliptical
structure of this passage.
ADVANCED READER.
Tha , .f e pleased, he pleased by nrJly wa^s-
T at flattery, even to ki„,.s, he held a shan.e
1 hat not ,n fancy s maze he wandered lon-^
^s coped to truth, and n.orali.ed his'n,:
i hat not for fame, hnt virtue's better end
He stood the h.rious foe, the tim., fr^
The daninn,^. critic, half-approving wit
The coxcomb hit, or fearin-, to be hit-'
Lau,d.ed at the loss of friends he neve'r had
' '^e dtUl, tlie proud, the wicked, and the n ad-
I -e d,.tant threats of ven,.eance on his head
I he blow unfelt, the tear he never shed • '
1 he tale revved, the Ue so oft oerthrown
The m.puted -trash, and dulness not his ovVn •
j ;: ir^.f'i •'^-'<-ed when the wr.tinl. " [pe
re hbelled person, and the pictured shape "^ "
Abuse, on all he loved, or loved him, spread
Afnendmex,le,orafatherdead; ^ '
The whisper, that to greatness still too near
Perhaps yet vd.rates on his Sovereign's earl
V\e]come for thee, fair virtue! all the pasj'
For thee, ,,,,,, ^^^j^^^^^^^^^^^^e^^^^^^^^^^
O fr,end ! may each domestic bliss be thi.ie ' ' ' '
Be no unpleasmg melancholy mine:
Me, let the tender office long engage/
1 o rock the cradle of reposing age
\ ith lenient arts extend a mother 's breath,
Make languor smile, and smooth the bed o death
Explore the thought, explan. the asking eye '
And keep awhde one parent fron. the sky'
On cares hke these, if length of days attend
1 h- far was r,,-!,,, „,e rest belongs ,o Heaven
POP!-:
481
['#'}♦
1. Classify the " Epistle to Arbutlinot," and comment on Pope's precli-
Ifction for this species of composition, Nnmi! and give an account of
other celebrated poems of the same class. Show generally under what cir-
cumstances such productions are to be expected.
2. The following translations of the same passages in Flomer's " Iliad "'
are marked illustrations of the authors' different modes of composition: —
TICNNVSON.
And these all iiinht upon the briil)j;c* of war
Sat nlorvinH ; many a tire before tlicni
blaze'a ;
As when in heaven the stars about tlie moon
Look be.iutitul, when ,ill tlie winds are l.ud,
And every hei^;ht ionics out, and inttinn peak
.•\nd vaUey, and the iniuie.isui.dile heavens
Hleak open to their lii^'lust, .mil .di the stars
Shine; and the Shepherd ^lad.iens in his
heart :
So many a fire between the ships and sti e.un
Of Xanthus bla/ed 1h' line the lowers of Troy,
,\ thousand on the pi. tin ; and close by i.ich
Sat titty in the bla/i' ol burning tire;
And clianipini.; nolden t;r.nn, Ihi' horses stood
Hard by their ch.iriots, w.iiiiuK tor the d.iwn.
Or more literally
And eating hoary f.1ain and pulse the steeds,
Fixt by their cars, waited thet;olilen d.iwn.
Ol-
Iliad, VIII., 542-561.
lillKl^
POPH.
The troops exulting sat in order round,
.\nd beaiiiinj,' fires illumined all the i,'round.
,\s when the moon, relulueut lamp of iiinht.
O'er liciveii's pure azure spreads her sacred
liKht.
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,
.•\iiil not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene,
.Vrouiid her throne the vivid i)lanets roll,
.\nd stars unniiinbered nild the t;lowin«pole.
O'er llie (hirk trees a yellower verdure shed,
.And lip with silver every mountain's head:
Tlieii shine the vales, the rocks in prospect
rise,
.\ flood of filory bursts from all the skies ;
The conscious swains, rejoicinn in the siuht,
live the blue vault, and bless the useful
■ liKbt.
So m.uiy flames before proud Uion blaze,
.\iid lighten glimmering Xanthus with their
rays.
The long reflections of the distant fires
Gleam on the walls, and treiidile on the
spires.
A thousand piles the dusky honors gild,
.And shoot a shady lustre o'er the fic^ld.
'•'iill fitly guards e.icli flaming pile attend,
Whose umbered arms, by fits, thick flashes ;
send ; j
Loud neigh the coursers o'er their heaps of I
corn, I
.And ardent warriors wait the rising morn. I
Contrast them under the following heads: — Vocabtilary, use of epithets,
character of sentences (see 12, II., i, c), versification (see 5-10), and figures
of speech. Show also what is meant by I'ope's " mechanic art " (see p.
198, 11. 74-Si, and p. 471, 11. 127-120).
3. Make a list, with examples, of I'ope's merits and defects. Which
is the better illustration of his merits — "The Kpistle " or the above quo-
tation ?
4. Refer to those passages in ' The Epistle" in which the feeling seems
to be genuine, and to those in which, from your knowledge of I'ope's
character and conduct, it seems to be merely professional.
5. Criticise and account for Pope's estimate of Addison and of Lord
Hervey. 6. Memorize 11. 141-162, pp. 476-477.
7. Explain the following statement: — "English Literature for half a
century after the Restoration shewed the marks both of a moral and of an
artistic vassalage to Erance." — Lowell. (See Prim, of Eii<j;. Lit., 108-114.)
8. Give an account of the other chief members of the Artificial School,
not represented in this volume. (See Prim. 0/ Eiig. Lit.)
CoMrOSITION.
Erom the internal evidence in "The Epistle to Arbuthnot," write an
account of Pope's life and cb.ar.acter, using .ilso for the latter the eNterna!
evidence afforded in the Introductory.
GG
ADDISON.
BiOGRA,..ncA,,.-Joseph Addison, the son of an English countrv narson
was born at Milston, Wiltshire, on the xst of May, 167.. After a prd'min
ary education at various schools, he entered the UniversiW of'^Oxfo S"
where he greatly distinguished himself, especially in writing Lain vtse'
5 Ong.nally intended for the Church, he was dravfn aside into no t.c and
Herature. the ma.n causes be^ng his admiration for Dryden who honored
oZTc ""ITT:^^'' ""' ''-^ •"'''"■'^^-^- ^"^"^ ^-^d Somers then Keeper
o the Great Seal. Having, by the influence of the latter, obta ned a pensfon
of /300 a year to enable him to travel, he visited the Continent andrrTox
'" Zthrw/'"^""' '"''•;- ''"^^' ''''''''^- ^" his return to England'?
a fi'r; doomlf t"'d" °"* "' °'''^'' ""^ ''^ -P^ctations of preferment w^er"
at first doomed to disappointment. But the battle of Blenheim gave him
an opportunity of distinguishing himself. The Ministry wished thTvictor>
commemorated ,n verse, and Addison, who was selected for the pu pos^'
" sine? of A f »"' *'^ '^'''' ''^^•■^^"^-- '"^^^ "^^ ^^ -^^ ^ c'o3 ;
sioner of Appeals. He was now fairly launched into politics In i-^oG he
was appointed Under-Secretary of State, and went to Ireland fn '^o^ '
Secretary to the Lord Lieutenant, In May of the same year "he "entered
ADDISON.
4^3
upon his brilliant career as an Essayist, in the Tathr. In 1713 appeared
his tragedy of Ctito, which, althou^jh defective in dramatic power, was ?o
wonderfully successful. Tarty spirit ran high at the time of its produc-
tion, and the liberal and patriotic sentiments it contained were .ipjilauded
by the Whigs on the one side, and echoed by the Tories on the otlier. It
was translated into various European languages, and, as ']'hackera\ says,
•all the laurels of Europe were scarcely sufhcient for the author of this 25
■prodigious' poem." This estimate of its value has not, however, stood
the test of time. Addison, now at the height of his fame, married in 171(1
the Countess Dowager of Warwick, to whose hand he h,id long aspired.
In the following year he obtained his highest political preferment, the
office of Secretary of State ; but being deficient in readiness and boldness _>,<.>
■ IS a public speaker, he was unable to defeiul his nuMsures effectively in
I'arliament, and retired after a short time on a pension of _^i,3oo a year.
His marriage is generally believed to have turned out an unh.ippy oiuv
Like Dryden, he is said to have " married discord in a noble wife." His
health had been failing for some time, and he knew that he coukl not l.ist ,5
long. Hefore his death he asked for an inte'view with iiis step-.son, thi'
I'lrl of Warwick, whom he v.ished to reclaim from a dissolute life. " I
have sent for you," said he, "that you may see in what peace a Christian
can die." The event thus anticipated took place at Iloll.ind Mouse, Ken-
sington, on the 17th of June, 1719.
40
Pkinchwl Works. --Although Adtlison's fame now rests on his prose
works, his poems first bro'ight him fortune and distinction. His early
efforts are of little importance. The most notable is An Accoiiut of tlir
Principal English Poets, being a series of short sketches of Chaucer, Spen.ser,
Milton, and others. This poem shows his un(levi'lop(!d critical faculty ; 45
but it is a mere re-echo of the views of the French School by one who
belongs to what he himself calls "an understanding age." Shakespeare
he passes over without notice, but Milton found in him an ardent
admirer. The Letter from Italy (1701) is his most successful poem, so far
as literary execution is concerned. The Canipai<(n (1705), appropriately s„
called by Warton "a (lazette in verse," is stilf and artificial, but the
character of Marlborough is drawn with dignity and loftiness. Cafo, a
tragedy brought on the stage in 1713, is liis best drama. It is the product
of an artificial age — a finished piece of artistic work, stately and "icily
regular." Addison's first prose composition is hia Din lofj;iies on the Use- 3,
fulness of Aneient Medals, wri'ten during his continental tour. Besides
some strictly political papers, he wrcjte also an account of his travels in
Italy, and Evidences of the Christian Keligion, the latter of which death
prevented him from completing. But his faaie as a prose writer rests on
his contributions to the Tatler, the Spectator, and the Guardian. The 60
Tatler was commenced in April, 1709, by S''r Richard Steele. A<ldison.
who was then in Ireland, sent his first "Essay " in May, and became a
regular contributor on his return to England in September. On the ces-
sation of the Tatler, Steele projected the Spectator, to be issued daily. It
mwpi
m [i .J
484
- / /> / 'ANCED RE. I DER.
65 continued from March ist, 171 1. to Decenh,^r r^fh x^ 1 •
period Addison wrote .nore thL ha f th "rmblr^ To'he T ' r "' '^^
a daily periodical, he contributed, especialirto L lair n .mt^f I'nd ^l-
manners of socety. In eschewing formal politics they diffefid from
Sed^'t fr""';r"' " '"' ^^^' prototype of the mocLn nervspape"
n happy thought of comlining ne^i-s Sihl" ;:;tt?":^^:.t ^1^ o!
80 (^KiTiCAL. --Although defective in real poetical L'enin.. \AV • c
' t!>'r';''"? r-^'i ''°'"' """ ""= ''«"■"" »"<l "<- »' CrX Thick
eray s estimate of AAlison's Essays fnrnisl«.s us with the kev to^h, e t 1
of ht, Z "' !": ""' "> "»« ™=h lanStmBe as a cultured <;e„tleman
of h s day would have spoken ; and so successful were his efforts thMh^
xouimes ot Addison. Some of his phrases and turns of expression arP
masters B„, his great characteristics are ease, eleS-ce sirnt,! c itv d^H
eacy of .magtnation and harmonious agreement of anguag and h'<;urt '
.ac"„ acT a^ndTr,":? -"f -/-'*"• P«-Picuify, or g:ammatt,
accuracy, and his extreme fastid nusness freauenik- hnr-^. i •
... leebleness, ft is, however, on his exquisite h'ZT'.hi AS;.s'L:'i:
■) -1 '
ADDISON.
4«;
durably founded — "on his power of awakening tliat sense in otliers, and
of drawing mirth from incidents which occur every day, and from little
peculiarities of temper and manners such as may be found in any man."
Addison is the first of our lay preachers. " The great and only end of these
speculations," he tells the readers of the Spectator, " is to banish vice and 115
ignorance out of the territories of Great Hrjtain." The l'uritai\s had
divorced elegance and virtue: Addison reconciled them, and maile morality
^'ashionable. As a moral satirist he has no equal : he is our great master of
polite ridicule. As an observer of life, of manners, of ;dl sliades of human
character, he stands in the first class. He could describe virtues, vices, uo
habits, whims. But he could do something more. He could create char-
acters, and make them exhibit themselves; unconsciously he thus became
the founder of the modern novel. And lastly, his broad and genial sym-
pathy, which won for him the affection of his readers in his own day,
makes his memory dear to all lovers of the literary reflection of a pure ••'5
and lofty temper.
SIR ROGER DE COVERLKV. •
Introductory. — Addison's Coverley papers are amongst the most grace-
ful productions of his pen. The conception and first sketches of Sir Roger
arc by Steele, but Addison has gained immortal fame by his development
of the character. In his general account of the Spectator Club, Addison
gives the following description of Sir Roger; —
"The first of our society is a gentleman of Worcestershire, of aiiciei.. descent, a
baronet, his name Sir Kogcr de Coverley. His great grandfather was inventor of that
famous country-dance which is called after him. All who know that shire are very well
acquainted with the parts and merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentlemen that is very
sincular in his behavior, but his singularities proceed from his good sense, and are
contradictions to the manners of the world, only as he thinks the world is in tlu- wrong.
However, this humor creates him no enemies, for lie does nothing with sourness or
obstinacy; and his being unconfined to modes and forms, makes him but the readier anil
more capable to please and oblige all who know him. When he is in town, he lives in
Soho Square. It is said, he keeps himself a bachelor by reason he was crossed in love by
a i)erverse beautiful widow of the next county to nim. Uefore this disappointment. Sir
Roger was what you call a tine gentleman, had otten supped with my t.ord Rochester and
Sir George Kthcrege, fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and kicked Hully Daw-
son in a public coffee-house for calling him youngster. Hut being ill-used by the above-
mentioned widow, he was very serious for a year and a h;\lf ; and though bis temper being
naturally jovial, he at last got over it, be grew careless of himself, and never dressed after-
wards. He continues to wear a coat and doublet of the same cut that were in fashion at
the time of his repulse, which, in his merry humors, he tells us, has bet'ii in and out
twelve times since he first wore it. He is now in his fifty-sixth year, cheerful, gay and
hearty; keeps a good house both in town and country; a great lover of matikind ; but
there is such a mirthful cast in his behavior, that he is rather beloved than esteemed. His
tenants grow rich, his servants look satisfiec!, ,ill the young women profess lov(; to him,
and the young men are glad of his company. When he comes into a bouse, he calls the
servants by their names, and talks all the way up stairs to a visit. I niust not omit, that
Sir Roger is a justice of the quorum; tliat he fills the chair at a qu.'rter-session with great
abilities, and three months ago gained universal applause by explaining a passage in the
game act."
SIR ROGER AT CHURCH.
From the " Spectator."
I AM always very well pleased with a country Sunday, and
think, if keeping holy the seventh day were only a human
I'ii 'i
mm
48^^
ADVANCED READER.
A ,1 |tf
ceitju, the countr)- people would soon degenerate into a L „ 1
of savages and harl.aiians, were there ««,„., f
.O" o the S„pren,e Being. Snnda^ elear! awaj! th7rn tof
the whole week, not only as ,t refreshes in the^r mi„™ ,|°
no tons of rel,g,on, but as i, pnts l,oth the sexes npor^e
■ng in their most agreeable forms, and exerting aM snH,
" quahties as are apt ,0 give them a figure in , feye of 1
tne cfturchyard as a citizen does upon the 'ChanPP fh«
whole pansh politics being generally Lcussed .^ t at pi ce'
either after sermon or before the bell rings ^
'" fiecT Uielnlf of h'^^' T\ ^ ^°°' ^'"•-'"-"' ^^ ^-uti-
choosin. H . r, "''^' ^''^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^^^s of his own
choosing He has likewise given a handsome pulpit-cloth
and railed in the communion table at his own expen e He
has often told me that at his coming to his estifph. f , u^
parishioners very irregular; and thft miS/ :' Jr: em
h :: crljd'a C '" "T^^^' ^^^ ^^^^ ^^-^ one of ^hem"
nassock and a Common Prayer-Book ; and at the same time
en.ployed an itinerant singing-master, who goes about th"
country for that purpose, to instruct them righUyn die tunes
itave :::; heard ' '"^"'^ ""^ ^' ^^^^ ^°^*"^^^ ^^"^^^ ^^at
As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation he
inTb 7 'y^'yr^' -^-' -d will suffer no on'e to sleep
m It besides himself; for if by chance he has been surprised
^ht7^:^.7ie7oT:^T;j^^^^^^^^^^ :f -^-- ^^^t out. as the literary
ease, elegance, and sim^nclty of the ^ or nLTirf',^'' ^"r^^"''^*^ ^"'"d-
anguage, the frequent' touJhe; of ' "n's^Sfuns ''"'"' ""' '''''"'''''
humor, and the moral tone of thai ""^""^^'""^'
25
35
ADDISON.
487
into a short luip at sermon, upon recovering out of it he
stands up and looks about him, and if he sees anybody else
nodding, either wakes them himself, or sends his servant to
them. Several other of the old knight's peculiarities break
out upon these occasions. Sometimes he will be lengthening 40
out a verse in the singing psalms, half a minute after the rest
of the congregation have done with it ; sometimes, when he is
pleased with the matter of his devotion, he pronounces Amen
three or four times to the same prayer, and sometimes stands
up when everybody else is upon their knees, to count the 45
congregation, or see if any of his tenants are missing.
1 was yesterday very much surprised to hear my old friend,
in the midst of the service, calling out to one John Matthews
to mind what he was about, and not disturb the congregation.
This John Matthews, it seems, is remarkable for being an idle 5"
fellow, and at that time was kicking his heels for his diver-
sion. The authority of the knight, though exerted in that
odd manner which accompanies him in all circumstances of
life, has a very good effect upon the parish, who are not
polite enough to see anything ridiculous in his behaviour; 55
besides that the general good sense and worthiness of his
character make his friends observe these little singularities as
foils that rather set off than blemish his good (qualities.
As soon as the sermon is finished, nobody presumes to stir
till Sir Roger is gone out of the church. The knight walks 60
down from his seat in the chancel, between a double row of
his tenants, that stand bowing to him on each side; and
every now and then inquires how such an one's wife, or
mother, or son, or father does, whom he does not see at
church ; which is understood as a secret reprimand to the 65
person that is absent.
The chaplain has often told me, that upon a catechising
day, when Sir Roger has been pleased with a boy that an-
swers well, he has ordered a Bible to be given him next day
for his encouragement ; and sometimes accompanies it with a 7°
flitch of bacon to his mother. Sir Roger has likewise added
five pounds a year to the clerk's place; and that he may
encourage the young fellows to make themselves perfect in
the church service, has promised, upon the death of the pre-
4«8
m
■i ■; :
i
ADVANCED READ'.R.
75 sent incumbent, who is verv nl,' f^ i *
merit. ^ *' *° ^'"'^^^^ '^ according t.,
The fair understandin^r between Sir Roarer ind h\. .-J
lain, and their mutual concurrence in do ng Ld 1 h ''''
remarkable, because the very next vi aT it f. ' T '""."
IS always preachinj,^ at the squire; and the snuire Tn 7
revenged on the parson, never con.es to chu ch Ti?'
order, and insinuates to them in alnm^f 1 ^ ^ ''"
he is a better nv.n ,1, i ^''^'■>' ^^""on. that
ci utirei man tJian his patron In shorf »,..+*.
are ve y faWto ,?'";■ '''°"''* '°° fr^""™' '" "« -™try,
SIR ROGER AT THE ASSIZES.
From the " Spectator."
owt IT.n^'t "e^tlr"" ^ '", ""■'^ "- -P™-"es of his
the las, in.erf ."r wi h The "Z " '""""" "^ "'^ ^-'d. If
;^ me opinion of all that know ' '
My worthy friend Sir Roger
um.
IS one of those who is not only
!
AD 1)1 SOX
489
it according U)
at peace with himself, but bi-loved ami estei^incd by all about
him. He receives a suitable tribute for his universal bcnevo-
Icnce to mankind, in the returns of alTection .nul j^'oodwill
which are paid him by everyone that lives within his neij^h-
borhood. 1 lately met with two or three odd instances of is
that f,'eneral respect \\ hich is shown to the j,'ood old l<ni<;ht.
He would needs carry Will Wimble ami m\self with him to
the County Assizes. As we were upon the road, Will Wimble
joined a couple of plain men who rid before ns, ami conversed
with them for some time, durinj; which my friend Sir Roj^er 10
acquainted me with their characters.
"The first of them," says he, "that has a spaniel by his side
is a yeoman of about a hundred pounds a year, an iionest
man. He is just within the game act, and qualified to kill a
hare or a pheasant. He knocks down a dinner with his gun ^s
twice or thrice a week, and by that means lives much cheaper
than those who ha' e not so good an estate as himself. He
would be a good neighbor if he did not destroy so many
partridges. In short, he is a verv sensible man ; shoots
flying; and has been several times foreman of the Petty Jury. 30
" The other that rides along with him is Tom Touchy, a
fellow famous for taking tb(> law of everybody. There is not
one in the town where he lives that he has not sued at a
Quarter Sessions. The rogue had once the impudence to go
to law with the widow. His head is full of costs, damages, 35
and ejectments. He plagued 'i couple of honest gentlemen
so long for a trespass in breaking one of his hedges, till he
was forced to sell the ground it enclosed to defray the charges
of the prosecution : his father left him four-score pounds a
year, but he has cast and been cast so often, that he is not 4"
now worth thirty. 1 suppose he is going upon the old business
of the Willow Tree."
As Sir Roger was giving me this account of Tom Touchy,
Will Wimble and his two companioi s stopped short till we
came up to them. After having paid their respects to Sir 45
Roger, Will told him that Mr. Touchy and he must appeal
to him upon a dispute that arose •■etweer: them. Will, it
seems, had been giving his fellow-travellers an account of his
angling one day in such a hole ; when Tom Touchy, instead
4yo
ADIANCKD NKAPEh'.
'(•
=" of hearing out his s(ory, lolil liini ihil \r,- « u
please.], ,„i^.|„ ,,,k, ,|,f|,„,. ',, ';''"; ^"^h-'-'n-one, if |„
■ "■- riv.r. My frien.i Sir kL ,!": h'' '," ,"" '"'" "'
ne,.l,erof ,ho,n ,liss.„isfi,,l wit), ,i,c knil s l' . "'"^ "™-
hecans.. neither of the,,, f„,„„, ,,,<,", ,e ■'"■"""f"""-
upon w ich we made the l.est of „„r':;!i. A^.'^l"*- " ^
-■-^^rht-itriSt-^^
to whisper in the j„<lKe-, ear thn, '^"""'r}. looi< occasion
ha<1 „,c. with so n,>,ch ,oodw"rh-''''''' ''" '"''^'""
''l.ste„,„,, ,o the procee<ii„«s of ?he Court !i,?'""'V ' ""^
'■on.an.l inlinitelv pleaded with l!„ """^'' "'""•
sole,nnity which so ,>ron!^l, *''■'■■'" •'PP«'"nce and
n,inistra,',on o o, r ia^'wierT ''"",'" '"^'' " '""'"'= "<'-
' o,.served, to n,y ^^^:^;^.:^2^ ^'"^ ^-■
« .„y fnend Sir Ro„er was ^e tin./up ,o* fc" f ' "■'"'• """
pa,n for hi,,,, until I fn„n,l h. i, . ■' ' "'^'^ '" so„,e
--ences,w,.rr1^- ='-;;---::
believe was not so nu.ch ,1 , ,"" ,«"°"nt of it; and I
inforn, .he Co..rt 1" :tive ri'fi 'Le" ''"'«'" '""-" '°
»» "P his credit in the conntrjl "'^ ''^^' """J '«=ep
I was l,ig|,|y delighted wl,en the Tonrt
Kentlemen of the country ™,^ ^'',^°"" rose, to see the
driving who shou d o'm.l n en T'' °"' '"^ °" f™"^, and
<ha. the ordinary peoT'l^" '," ,^' V °" ' '" "''' ^™"= '">»
'' ;- --- -' co'urr thLr t: :'f™f rs-aT't:
ADDISON.
4')'
wlu) know Sir Roper arc of fjjiviiiK liim marks ot thor rslcTi\i,
When wu were iirrivetl upon ihe verpe of his estate. w«' >,.
Mopped at a little inn to rest ourselves and our horses. The
man of the house had, it seems, been foruK-rly a servani in the
kiiiK'ht's fan-.'y . .ud to do honor to his old master had seme
time since, urknow to Sir Ko^er. \mi him up in a sif,Mi-post
I.efore the 'o. ; so ;iat the knij^dit's head had hum; out upon w
the road abo- i a wf .k before he himself knew anythin<,' of the
matter. As sc..u as Sir Ko{,'er was acquainted wiUi it, hudinf,'
that his servant's indiscretion proceeded wholl\ from .ifleetion
and goodwill, he only told him that he had made him too
lu,t;h a comphment ; and wlien the fellow seemed to tiuid< .00
that could hardly be, added, with a more tlecisive look, that
It was too great an honor for any man under a duke ; but
toUl him, at the same tune, that it might be altered with a
very few touches, and that he himself would be at the charge
()t it. Accordingly, they got a painter by the knight's direc- 105
tions to add a pair of whiskt>rs to the face, and, by a little
aggravation of the features, to change it into the Saracen's
head. 1 should not have known this story had not the inn-
'■eeper, upon Sir Roger's alighting, told him, in my hearing,
ihat his honor's head was brvi. iit back last night with the no
alterations that he had ordered to be made in it. Upon this
my friend, with his usual cheerfulness, related the particulars
above mentioned, and ordered the head to be brought into
the room. I could not forbear discovering greater exjiressions
of mirth than ordinary upon the appearance of this monstrous 115
face, under which, notwithstanding it was made to frown and
stare in a most extraordinary manner, I could still discover a
distant resemblance of my old friend. Sir Roger, upon
seeing me laugh, desired me to tell him truly if I thought it
possible for people to know him in that disguise. I at first no
kept my usual silence ; but upon the knight's conjuring me
to tell him whether it was not still : ore like himself than a
Saracen, I composed my countenance in the best manner I
could, and replied that "much might be said on both sides."
These several adventures, with the knight's behavior in i^s
them, gave me as pleasant a day as ever I met with in any
of my travels.
m^'m
492
ADl-ANCED READER.
th
2. Comment on the literary form of 11. 28- 'o -lA-^tK j= rf, cs -,« o,, ,
96, of the first; and 11, 3. 10, 10 z6 ^7-^S .7 JL Ar? A- ^ ^ ' ^' ""
114. of the second Essay. ''^ ' ' ^^' ^^'^°' ^^' ^^' ^'>'°°' "° ■"»"•'
3- Show how far the portraiture of Sir Roger's character in the nre
cedmK Essays .s ,n harmony with that in the vignette in thelnJroJuctSr;:
4- Kefer to Critical estimate, pp. 484-4S5, and show to what extent tl„
selections exemplify the characteristic! of Addison's Ityle.
5. Discuss the following statements:
thii-lW''' '"'"""S"^ ",'"■ |;'iy. preachers, Addison marks the expression of -,
h. i^ tL"' T'""' ■'"'' '"^'^r''' improvement beyond the circle of the ckrg-
of M.t'h^w (r'nokp'r """'r' '""^ Wdbirforce, as he is the at'cestor
01 Matthew Arnold. —Creen s Essays o) Addison. (See Prim, of Entr I it
/'While Puritanism aimed at the culture of the ' best ' the Fss-ivistx
rSl^lonm'en 'o^th'-'^'r .''""'T'T' •''«^'"' ^-' conc:ntrated'S'
tne cle\tlopment of the religious side of man, as the Renascence had sneni
ufvdln L^'^"^°^'"'"5 °^ "^'^ intellectual, his artistic, hs physic 1 d^'
Crlnv ' '"!? "".'Tf-'^ ■''' ^'■'' '^''' envelopment of man as^a whole "-
Green s Essays of Addison. See Pnn,. o/Enn. Lit., pp 44.4. andi? -o
and Creen s Short Hist, of the Eug. Peopl/. Chap. VI. SecW^ "The New
Learning; • and Chap. VIII., Sec. I., -The Puritans;-) ' '
• 'lu "^,^ ^ ^'^''^ "^ respect,"— Addison's imaga skilfully craven and nlarr,!
in the Poet's Corner-" was due to the unsullied statesiS 1" The accon
phshed scholar, to the master of pure English elo(,uence toUie cot^sim "
mate, painter of life and manne/s. It ^stas due, Lbcx^'aU, o the g ";"
sat ris who, without inflicting a wo.ind, effected a great social reform
and who reconciled wit and virtue, after a long and disastrous sen'radon'
c^n;"^i£.ui;;;r^!^^.'^^ '-''^^ ^^ ^-^^-y' -^^ ^XTS:
6. Discuss the accuracy of Pope's description of Addison, pp. 47G-477.
Composition.
Describe the character of Sir Roger, as delineated in the Selections.
.,^1^;.^*;
iH il irLTiftif.iw i HW ii ii
ys, and explain
hat extent the
MILTON.
, 1 Mil, ,n fli," list of the I'.li/al.etlians and our
school and thence to ( hr.t s C o 1 ^ \.;: '^ ^'sj^ent in close study and
he graduated in 1O.52. 1 he next <>^^. .>''[. , ,,,, j,„,„ ,,,,u
poetical medita^ion at Hor^U>n. -'^-^^.s a huM m ■ ^ ^^^^ ^^^^_^^^
abroad and travellcl in Wance ItaU , ami ^ '';. !^^ ,^ undertook
Hitherto he had attempted no «reat work ; ^^ ^^,,, ^^,^_,hat the
was "endued with the .nvvard '"M-n-^ j' ;\ . ^ ^^^^ ^„^,„,,, „ot wil-
r.rr.o J'-id <o.n,. fo heL'in the Kreat poem which posicrii>
;;::;iy l^t dl^ •• nut at this juncture he was whirle.i .nto poln.cs, ...l for ..
494
ADVANCED READER.
nearly twenty years, though "led by the genial power of nature to another
task," he was tossed about in "a troubled sea of noises and hoarse djs
putes." When the rupture took place between Charles and his Parliament
Milton wrote vigorously on the side of liberty, and, on the establishment
=5 of the Commonwealth, became Foreign or Latin Secretary to the Council
of State. During this period, he wrote no poetry except a'few sonnets, but
devoted himself to discussing the political and religious problems of the
time. Lnder instructions from the (\)uncil, he set about preparing his
first Defence of the People of England : this effort brought on blindness
;!o owing to the natural weakness of his eyes, already increased by hard
•study. So great was the power of his will and so indomitable the spirit
that animated him, "arguing not against Heaven's hand or will, but bear-
ing up and steering right onward," that he still continued his close appli-
cation to his tluties, and dictated all the more important dispatches of the
35 Commonwealth. There is good reason to believe that Cromwell possessed
Milton's full sympathy during his career, and that the latter exercised no
small influence in shaping the foreign policy of England during the Pro-
tectorate. For two years before Cromwell's death, Milton was almost ..ilent
as an author, but it has been established beyond doubt that towards the
4o close of this period he had begun the composition of his immortal epic
When the crisis came, "when the whole multitude was mad with desire
for a king," he made a final but unsuccessful effort in the cause of Liberty
by publishing a series of pamphlets; hc.t the tone of these productions
shows :hat he regarded Puritanism as a lost cau.se. After the fall of the
45 Kepublic, he had to remain in hiding till his friends secured his pardon
Thenceforth he sunk the Politician in the Poet. The remaining years of
his life were spent in sedulous literary labour, chiefly in the composition
of his epics. Milton's domestic life was a troubled one. His first mar-
riage, which took place in 1643, proved for a time unhappy, but he and
50 his wife were reconciled in 1646. His second wife lived for little more
than a year after her marriage, and until he married again, in 16O2, he was
alone with his three daughters, in whose undiitiful conduct he found some
of his .larpest sorrows. The sunset of his life was calm and peaceful.
Dryden, the leader of the new generation of writers, used to visit him ;
55 and the merits of his great work were acknowledged by the nobler spirits
of the time. At last, in 1674, he (juietly passed away, a victim to the gout
from v.hich he had long suffered.
Principal Wokks.— Milton's works mark the three great stages in the
history of Puritanism. The period of his early verse lasts from 1624 to
60 1640. Puritanism, when Milton began to write, was still incompletely
developed as a national force; and, though gradually gaining strength it
did not obtain preponderance till about the time of his return from Italy
Virtue is the ideal of his earlier poems. Towards the close of the period!
the tone of his thoughts deepened as the prevailing influences strengthened
6s their hold on him, but his works show the intellectual culture of the Ebza-
bethan combined with the moral grandeur of the Puritan. The chief
MILTON
495
„,„k, „. ,„i. period are: o„ ,*. ^'""■"«/(,^,"™'';.::;;:"';„;:'"::;„I".
(.•„m//s, also ■• masque .1 i.-„„lish Court. In Lv</</<i.s Nvr
,„i„„,e,u among .he •"-7"-->;;>- » ,; '„'■ ^ „,„ alive ../O..- ».«"«
have .ho fir.. '■""'»'--''<»'''^'"'''":'' "",',,, li,,,l „( his <-,.„.roversial
"' "r "°e-o :r''''rt^.t;i:" » ;,h.:r:; ,,.e a.ce,„.e„cv, a,,.,
;^;:^^;r;r.h::M ,hap., ,.,a..er» f^^^z"'i:Tsi-^
'„ctical composition almost Nvhoily ceased in huKland , t r
7"
m
ton
„,>tical compt'sition aimosi \miu..> ^- - ,i„, ,i ,v Mil
;;;■;;, .,. 'na.,on were draw,, in.,, .>-";■";:■;:;::,"';,',. rareiv
,„., course ,.xe,n,lifie, .he general o,,, 1, ^ 1 ■ •> > .^ „„.
,„ea.hed -.he ..^^c'^^^n^^ ^< ^'::^;X^;;,, :i::::zj:. t
> • 1 „f oil hie nrnsc WOrks, wlUC 11, lliciuuni,, tii>^ r
cardinal idea of all his prose nsi rh ^„,-,--,,. ..„a n„litic:d (lUcslKms
v«^"---;„:te .0.:^;'';;,:;" c vid.';:; i;r.ii'an,i .he i.-ree,h,n,
itf T.rSs h: ,, , r p al o\he subjee.. ,,f i;.i..ca.ion a„,i Pivorc..^ ^
of the 1 rtss. Me ok y marriage had led
latter of ^^ic'^ h^™-;y ;^ ^^ -^> ^Ij^^^ ,,,^ ,,,, ;,,„..„ „fau,nl.
him to consider. 1 he t^reatest oi j,,,..,,,./,/,,, „ .S>v.// /•<'»- '/"•
L//,.-0' '^^ ^'"'-'-•'' ^'^""";^ V " '1 h^( 'u" o t^ English Armv, and ...
n r;TTh^ Ror ; ima^e) or Tlu- Portraiture of his Sacred Majesty in
nasilike (inc Ko>ai uiiaKe,, „,.,;„^ -.tfcctin" descr plions of
„, solitude and -'"^n"^- if^^; i;^ ^^a t" momenis, had a .
Kins Charles's religious feel n s, "<^^ '' " . ,,,,. /,;,/,,,, /,,„;,/, ,■
powerful influence in favor of -.he ojalists. ^V '""-/' ^ / ,^,
Literature as well as in Morals and oiitu ..^evious age. In the
;r ririrJ!:;:™ /:x:;^u:^xf..';L;:c,!::»;. a„ ,....,« ..
;':,':^. r,ceo,np,lhe.,. he pnrp..» forced in. ».y^
r't ^CK,ii:^L:'::^v:;r,:^,:;;;h;g;^t;^.: l;^ „.
^r5b:^;t^'T:,-rr^:^::h=i'rr;:;;;
»:;i';'ete^n;e;; a:S aU..,ions .„ .hedo..n-.roc,den s.a.eof .he Hepul.hcan
i||IWI!l)lffl'iP>
496
ADVANCED READER.
party. In addition to the wori<s enumerated above, Milton left behind
"5 him treatises on Logic, Religion, and (irammar, and even a History ot
England.
Critical.— Milton's English Prose is, "both body and soul Latin, onl\
in an English dress." Owing to this and the severe and lofty character of
his mind, his style, though rich and vigorous, is more deficient in simpli
I20 city and fluency than that of other contemporary writers. Even when the;
thought is trivial, the language that embodies it is stiff and cumbrous. Hv
has not the freedom and spontaneity of the Elizabethans. His works,
however, contain many passages of fervid eloquence and brilliant imagery,
"compared with which," according to Macaulay, "the finest declamations
»»5 of liurkc sink into insignificance." But in these and his devotional out-
bursts, he soars into the realms of poetry. In pure pro^e, as he says him-
self, he has " but the I'se of his left hand." Whether he writes in Latin or
in English — for some of his prose works are written in the former language
— we see the strength of his convictions and the vastness and abstruseness
"3° of his learning; but amongst many magnificent episodes relating to his
own opinions and career, there are passages that show a personal bitter-
ness for which it is difficult to find an excuse. Milton, on his own confes-
sion, is "the poetical son of Spenser." His early poems are largely
mitative, and show traces of the study of the other Elizabethans. He
'M has not their humor and dramatic power; but, like them, he is graceful,
natural, and imaginative; while the purity and loftiness of his character
gave his compositions a force and dignity which theirs do not possess. The
moral grandeur of his earlier poems proves that he was even then a
I'uritan, but a Puritan not a\erse to Art and Literature, to gaiety and
140 innocent amusements. After the fall of the Commonwealth, and mainly
owing to the disappointment of his hopes, his youthful grace and lightness
were replaced by a solemnity and severity that border on harshness in
Samson Afruiiistcs ; but the grave beauty, the sublimity and the majesty of
his style; his depth of thought and strength of imagination; his command
■45 of language and artistic skill remained undiminished. Owing to his inti-
mate acquaintance with classical models, he is free from the weaknesses
and affectations of Spenser's successors; while, throughout his poetical
career, his taste is as severe, and his verse as polished, as those of the
Artificial School. His genius is eminently subjective. He has stamped
'5° his moral and intellectual individuality on all his productions; but, as
Coleridge says, "The egotism of such a man is a revelation of spirit."
Milton's blank verse is perfection itself. He has complete control over
the resources of our language and uses them at his will, harmonizing the
"organ tones" of his cadences with the depth, or tenderness, or sublimity
of his conceptions. Occasionally he indulges in too much learned illustra-
tion, and, from the nature of the subject, the epics are deficient in human
interest ; but, notwithstanding these and a few other faults. Paradise Lost
is probably the noblest monument of human genius.
smm
MILTON.
497
LYCIDAS.
^^„v Thi>; "m(-ea of a moloaious to;ir' in nu'iuory of lul-
lT«i;^™,\';;/l;;l..>'^i^ta',» .'„,,« >.„c;,-u,.,..i i., ,.,.c.ic beau.,
in th(! whole domain of English poetry.
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more.
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude.
And with forced finders rude
Shatter your leaves before the mellowini,^ year.
Hitter constraint, and sad occasion dear.
Compels me to disturb your season due:
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prune.
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer:
Who would not sing for Lycidas! lie knew
Himself to sing, and build the lotty rune.
He must not float upon his watery bier
Unwept, and welter to the parching wintl.
Without the meed of some melodious tear.
Begin, then. Sisters of the sacred well
That from beneath the seat of jove doth sprmg!
Begin, and somewhat loudly swee|- he string:
Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse-
So may some gentle Muse
With lucky words favor my destined urn ;
And, as he pc .( s, turn,
And bid fair peace be to my ^able shroud—
lO
>5
Literary.— What is meant by a
•• Pastoral "? Explain throuj^hout
the classical Idioms and Allusions,
anc' the historical and personal refer-
ences. Read carefully the notes in
connection with the Text. Every
word and expression should be closely
scrutinized. Describe the metre.
1-5. once more — year. Explain
fully.
HH
4 and 6. Observe the autu Jt's favor-
ite arranj^ement of adjectives.
8-10. Account for the repeua'.;*
I of the name.
j ly. Muse. What Figure?
I 21. 9uote a parallel passage from
i Gray. ".Note throughout the resem-
blance between the phr-iseology of
! " Lycidas " ars<! that of " The Elegy.
1 Account for this.
498
ADVANCED READER.
il i;l
mt%
as
.V
35
♦o
45
SO
35
For we were nursed upon the self-same lull,
Fed the same flock by fountaiu, shav? , and rill.
Together both, ere the high lawns appeared
Under tue opening eye-iids of the Morr.
We drove a-field; and both t.)gptl;.ir heard
What time the gray-fly wind:: licv sultry luir?).
Battening our flocks with the fre.sh dev s of night,
Oft till the star that rose at evening, bright,
Towards !ieaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel.
Metmwhile the rural ditties were not mute,
Tempeved to the oaten flute;
Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel
From the glad sound would not !>e absent long;
And old Damcetas loved to hear our song.
But, oh! the heavy change, now thou art gone,
Now thou art gone, and never must return !
Thee, Shepherd, thee, the woods and desert caves,
With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown,
And all their echoes mourn :
The willows, and the hazel copses green,
Shall now no more be seen
Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.
As killing as the canker to the rose.
Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze.
Or frost to flowers that their gay wardrobe wear.
When first the white-thorn blows;
Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear.
Where were ye. Nymphs, when the remorseless deep,
Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas ?
For neither were ye playing on t' e steep.
Where your old bards, the fanio >ruids, lie,
No'- on the shaggy top of Mona ■ j;i:,
>■ •• /et where Deva spreao ' ; vizard stream:
A> iiie ! I fondly dream !
23-36. Explain here and through-
out the biographical references.
23-24 What is the grammatical
relation of these lines ?
25-36. Show that the poem is now
in the oastoral form.
See also
iment on this use of
V,.. "f. with 11. 8-10.
(13.^ '
38
" mu
39. Cf. with 11. 8-10.
49. Such. Paraphrase.
WA
MILTON.
40^)
rseless deep,
Had ye been there— for what could tliat l>:ivc dono?
What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore.
The Muse herself, for her enchanting,' son
Whom universal Nature did lament,
When, by the rout that made the hideous roar.
His gory visage down the stream was sent,
Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore!
Alas! what boots it with incessant care
To tend the homely, slighted shepherd's trade,
And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?
Were it not better done, as others use,
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade.
Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair!
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
(That last infirmity of noble mind).
To scorn delights and live laborious days:
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find.
And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears.
And sHts the thin-spun life. " But not the praise. "
Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears;
" Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil.
Nor in the glistering foil
Set off to the world, nor in broad rumor lies;
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove;
As he pronounces lastly on each deed.
Of so much fame in Heaven expect thy meed."
O fountain Arethuse, and thou honored flood.
Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds !
60
«5
70
75
80
85
. 8-10.
See also
n this
use of
10.
ihrase.
57. See (12, IV., 36.)
64-84. The pastoral scene now dis-
appears, and the shepherd changes
into the subjective poet. Show the
appropriateness of this digression.
The bucolic mood is recalled tempo-
rarily in 1. 85, and reappears perma-
nently in 1. 132 ci scq. In what Imc
of this passage does Milton describe
his own mode of life?
67. as others use. Illustrate this
statement from the Literature of the
period.
76. And — praise." Show that
there is a Zeugma here.
79-81. Give different interpreta-
tions of this passage. Explain " by."
! 80. crowned— reeds! Cf. p. 212,
1 1. 408.
I ;■! I
i ]
(','
QO
95
115
500 ADVANCEP READER.
That strain I heard was of a liigher mood :
But now my oat proceeds,
And Hstcns to the herald of the sea
Tliat came in Neptune's plea.
He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds,
What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain?
And questioned every gust of rugged wings
That blows from off each beaked promontory:
They knew not of his story;
And sage Hippotades their answer brings.
That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed;
The air was calm, and on the level brine
Sleek Panope with all her sisters played.
It was that fatal and perfidious bark,
Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark,
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.
Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow,
His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge.
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge
Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.
" Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, " my dearest pledge?'*
Last came, and last did go.
The pilot of the Gahlean lake;
Two massy keys he bore of metals twam,
(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain)
He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake :
" How well could I have spared for thee, young swain,
Enow of such as, for their bellies' sake.
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold !
Of other care they little reckoning make,
Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast,
And shove away the worthy bidden guest.
Blind mouths ! that scarce themselves know how to hold
A sheep-hook, or have learned aught else the least
!• I
87. See also 1. 132. What is meant
by calling these lines apologetic ? Ex-
plain " higher mood."
108-109. Account for the introduc-
tion of St. Peter.
log. pilot. Is this in accordance
with the Gospel account ?
lij iji. State the three grounds
of complaint here urged. Discuss
the ecclesiastical condition of Eng-
land at this time.
MILTON
501
ia$
130
1)5
14U
That to the faithful herdsman's art bclonK^s!
What recks it them? What need they? Tiiey are sped;
And when they Hst, their lean and flashy song's
Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw ;
The hnn^ry sheep look up, and are not fed,
But, swollen with wind and the rank mist they draw.
Rot'inwardly, and foul conta^non spread:
Besides what the grim wolf with priv\ paw
Daily devours apace, and nothing said :
But that two-handed engine at the door
Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Return, Alpheiis, the dread voice is past.
That shrunk thy streafus; return, Sicilian ^luse.
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast
Their bells, and flowerets of a thousand hues.
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushmg brooN
On whose fresh lap the swart star sparel>- looks :
Throw hither all your (piaint-enamelled eyes
That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers,
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies.
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine.
The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet.
The glowing violet.
The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodL :'e.
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head.
And every flower that sad embroidery wears :
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed.
And daffodillies f^U their cups with tears.
To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.—
For so, to interpose a httle ease.
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise;
Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas
M6-151. Comment care'fuli7~^n" between "Fancy" and "ImaKina-
these lines. Illustrate by parallel tion.
pj,,..;,rff.c Se^" "Cowper," p. 4^f'. U- i .-, ^'n.-uf. •■ For."
f'^^T^Jl'^^-^-"^^ xi-isi" whilst-away. NV^.o^is
'.'WorSorth/'V- 335- 11- -4-1^7. the gramtnatical relation ol this
Apply here Ruskin's distinction rlause ?
M5
150
t ;,(,-.KhattaaiiM'jih*ft^Wdaw!»jijiW't^.->
i'!
.'•Ihl
iM
i i|
11'
I I!
\i '.
ii'J ]
<55
502 ADVANCED READER.
Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled,
Whether beyond tho 't'^- - Hebriiles,
Where thou, perhaps, under the uhelniinf,' tide,
Visitest the bottom of the monstrous worhl ;
Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,
jtfo Sleep'st by tlie fable of Bcllerus old.
Where the great vision of the guarded mount
Looks towards Namancos and Bayona's hold;
Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth:
And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
i6s Weep no more, w oful shepherds, weep no more,
For Lycidas, your orrow, is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watt ry fl(,. , .
So sinks the day-star in the ocean-bed.
And yet anon rej'airs his droopmg head,
170 And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky :
So Lycidas suiik low, but mounteil high,
Through the dear might of TTim that walked the waves,
Where, other grovt - and other streams along,
175 Witii nect^ji pure ins oozy h^cks he laves.
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song
In the blest kingdoms meek of ioy and love.
There entertain him all the sai.iis above,
In solemn troops, and sweet societier
180 That sing, and singin ui their glory move.
And wipe the t 's for ever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas. s pherds weep no more ;
Henceforth thv. an v • Genius of the shore.
In thy large recompense, and shalt ; good
185 To all that wander in that perilous flood.
Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills,
While the still Morn went out with sandals gray;
He touched the tender stops of various quills,
155. faraway. E.xplain.
173. Why i.s reference made to this
miracle?
174. Comment on the order of the
words, and show clearly the force of
" other — streams."
i8f). Cf. 11. 39-44. What evidence
i? there in the pc- m that Milton here
means himself?
188. various quills.
on 11, 64-84.
See footnote
MILTON.
With eager thought warl.Hng his Doric lay:
And now the sun had stretched out all the lulls.
,\„d now was dropl nito the western l.a> :
\t last he rose, and twitched his nianllc blue:
Tomorrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.
503
■90
SONNKl".
ON mS ULINDNKSS.
Whfn I consider how my light is speiit.
Ere half my days, in this dark w.>rld and wide.
\nd that one talent which is death to hide.
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returnmg elude; ^
- Doth God enact day-labor, light denied ?
I fondly ask: but Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work, or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve Him best: his state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed,
" And post o'er land and ocean without res^t ;
They also serve who only stand and wait.
See footnote
X Give an account of the English Pastora? and Elegy.
.. Explain the folUnving statements.-^ ^^.^^ ^.^
..The first lines ';l^^;'^^^;^^iiXAL future.' -Mo W.,.
mmediate past. Its last i.ne ^auv-
.. in ■ Lycidas' the event ^:t!t:^ S^'^JZ^^^Z^ Bro..nc.
place, and to it the various ch.nges ot theme ar
. The confl.. t between the old -^^-l^^l^f^lT^^'^X"^^^^^^ l>"ritan
festivitv of n .plendKl and fj;^';^,^ ^^.^Te "„« ^^^^^^^^^^
worUl/in'o xvl:uh love and pip ure were no^ ^^^^^ .^^ ^j.,^^„,^
was commencing in the social \\ °* ':"h_p,^,;,„„.
4. Memorize at least the Sonnet and 11. 70-H4 and 13^ i^i
COMI'OSITION.
'• MiUon's genius is eminently subjective."
1*1
If
■|'i' '
■til . '1 f
i
i\l ;:(
; I
III
SHAKESPEARE.
BiOGKAPHiCAL.— Although the glory of the new Literature had burst
forth in the author .)f the lunrif Qiuriic, tiie influences which were then
arousing human intelligence did not culminate till towards the latter
part of Elizabeth's reign, when dramatic composition and representation
5 attracted all the poetical genius of England. Foremost among the writers
of the period was William Shakespeare. The well-authenticated facts
about his life are very few, and a good deal of what is told of him is
conjectural or insufficiently proved. We know that he was born in
Stratford-on-Avon in April, 15G4, but the exact date is uncertain. It is
10 recorded that he was baptized on the ^6th of the same month, and there
is a tradition that he died on the anniversary of his birthday, which
would, therefore, be the 23rd of April. His father, John Shakespeare,
was a wool-dealer and glover. For a time his affairs prospered, and he
became an alderman and afterwards ^'h bailiff, or mayor, of the town ;
15 but from 1578, when his son, the future poet, was about thirteen, his for-
tunes declined. He had married Mary Arden, who possessed a good deal
of property and was of an old Warwickshire family. William Shakespeare
was the eldest of six children. Neither of his parents could write — a not
unusual defect in the sixteenth century ; but tliv'ir son was probably sent
20 to the Free Grammar School of Stratford, where he received his educa-
tion, till his father's misfortunes led to his withdrawal. His knowledge of
,r^'-''i'wm'^^mA>>^a'fs-^
SHAKESPKARI-:
5^'5
, nrnfound Hen J..nson. svho was intubate Nvith hin,,
classics was not pr loun I n^« J „ rol.al.k- that, wht-n .n
,,,s.ribesitas.-sman '-^'-^^^VrU tt'lo 'renc an.l Italian. On UavinK
.,hoon.e.s supp..s.Hl t. Im^-^-n^ ,,h„oln.ast.r ; by others, a pruU.-r
.„„e he ts behevel »»ha;''^^^" ,,;,,, ,,,,i,h. if truo, wouUl jnst.ly th.-
.,-„,re are stones, too. toUl about urn j ,,i,a ^„.i riotous.
„,,rena- that this porl.on of »>'^'' % ^^j Xw,, , vc-o.nans dau^jh
,,,,e his nineteenth year he >"-[- ,;^ ^\, ;^riuusions to the untU- 30
,,r, who was nearly e.ght years '''^ •>•'■; ;^'';, ^^-^ ,,,uience in London.
,,.ss of disparity of age .nn.trriaKe.to«a^^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ,,^^^
,.Hile his wife and fam.ly --;; -^kl.^ o T is state of matters, joined
,fter a time his marr.e.l hfe becv nc '''^^J^'' ^^- ,^.^^ ;, ,,i,, ,f his genius.
^,,„ „is father's ^^-^^^^^r^^XXii^ -^^ ^^^-^^^^^^^ "^^ ^^""^ ''
,„auccd him in I5»0 to ^-^^"^^^^^ he ( '.lobe Theatre. Hlackfriars.
,0 have obtained ••"'"^''^••^'V * f . cntncity-as actor, and a.lapter
Here he was soon -"P^-^^ ^ j;,^:;;; ^^ nowled.e and experience
.,. ..,a plays for the staRe. He -^^^ '^^^ ,,;, ,,,„ eon. eptions. As
,vhich afterwards gave h.m cour.ige t . ^^ ^^^ ^^^,^,^,i ^ospered, chiefly ,.,
,, ,etor he did not hold a h.gh '-l^, . " , ^\^ " '"'^t^.roprietor of the
as an adapter ancl writer of plays. .1 u^- -M^^ JJ^ ^^^ ^^^^^. ^^^^
(ilobe and iMackfr.ars Theatre. In l:>'^7^^\ afterwards rebuilt. He
;{[,, a dwelling-house in Stratlord. wh.eh ^\^r^^:^.^^ ,^,^,,^ ,,,,^, ,,,
[^. to have kept in view "^^imate reUre.ne, o --;:,,^^,^,^,.,, ,, ,3
he prospered, he invested mone^^ "^^.^^^ he highest development of
,arier he combined in a '^^^''''Yt^^^r\<^. shrewdness. With
,n.aginativ . genius with pract.ca energyju d w ^,^.^_^^^ ^^^ ^^^^
wealth cam. also fame and soc.al '^- "^^-■;., ;^^„, „,,j,,,,, ^ord I'em-
Karls of Southampton and Essex, and of \\ dim .^^^.^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^
broke. Queen ^^^xabeth pa tronuedJ^^|m an h^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^, ^^^^^,^^
r;:^i:r;tcr:.-Xrrr/l;t^.nafew years of ins de
bust was erected to his memory.
WoKKS.--Shakesp.a.-s career ^ ^ ^^-Z^::tX^:^::^
about 1612. I'rofessorDowden wh.,scclasM c^^^^^ ._^^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^_^^^^,^^.^_
here, dukles it into four periods ^ ^^"-^.^^^f ^^ , elopme.u of his genius
but are marked by productions ^'^^'"^^"^ ^^i, , ,,,,u of this sub- 60
-uxd the influences that affected h.s hfo. U or a
ject,seeDowden•sPWm.r«/S/-<.*<•.^■'''''•■ ^apprenticeship ^-.3-JO to
FiHST I'EKiou.-Qf ^^'--^^^^..fS !' - U mirked by the presence
:505 or X59C. The -rks oMl^ ^jod ^^ ^ ^^^ .^^^ ^_^^^^^^^^^^,^^ ^
l::^^^S :r rimm^urUy of ^^ ->— ^^llltt d ^^^^
u i a iw » * ff . M)»w i u i>i -y i u ■ .',." i . 'j' _ ! -# » !»' 'r 'Mf ' "
fl
i^'i
f< hi
506
ADVANCED NEADEK.
feelinK I rk-Shakespkarian r;Ro,:r-plays by other authors, touched ui,
by Shakespeare, and representiuK ihe years of "crude and violent youth'
70 -Titus Amhonian. and Hairy 17., Part I. Kari.v roMKniKs-/ „,,,•,
Labor Lost, the first of his original plays, and a caricature on the euphuism
and some of the other absurdities of Klizabeth's reign ; Comatv of Frrors ■
Two GcntkwcH of Wroun : Mhtsummer Ni^hfs Draw,. Kari.v Historv-
plays by some unknown author, recast by Shakespeare, and indicatiuR the
7S begmninK of the patriotic impulse-//,,,^; F/., Parts II. a„d III. .■ RUhard
. II. hARLv Tra<;i.:i)v-AJ,„,„ „ „„,/ yulirt : The first evi.lence of real trauic
power. MiDiH.K Histokv- Richard II. and Kiufr John.
Skc-onm, I'KRron.-Of Knglish historical plays and mirthful, joyous
comedies-1503 to ir>oo or lOoi During this period he became mas»-T o''
«o his art. His imagination ripened ; his creatue powers developed and he
acquired a deeper knowledge of the world. Towards the close we see
traces of sadness mingling with a high tone of morality and of meditative
philosophy. Mii.i.i.K C^mvAy<-Thc Merchant of Vance. Latkr Historv
-embracing history and comedy-H^«n' IV., Parts I. and II.. and Hevrv
85 V. Latkr (\)MKnY— rough and boisterous-'faw/w^r of the Shrew, The
Merry Wives of Windsor :~\oyou^. refined, and romantic-,U/,r/; Ado about
Nothing, As You Like It, and Tivclfth Night.
Third Period -()f the great tragedies and of grave or bitter comedies
-ir,oi to if,o8. nnring this period a gloom seems to have settled ou nv;
90 mind. His father rmd his only son died ; some friend, to whom he refers
in the Sonnets, did him an injury ; an.l misfortune overtook his pafrons
hssex, Southampton, and IVmbroke. It mav be that these events ca t -he
shadow that settled for a time on the natural joyousness of his spi-ii^-
Latkr C oMEDV-serious. .lark, and ironical-.l//i Well that Ends W-ll a
95 connecting link between this and the preceding period; Measure for Meas-
lire, a tragic comedy; and Troiliis and Cressida. Middle Tra<;edv-
Julius Cesar: Hunilet. which especially indicates the influence of the
iWnlosophic cast of thought of the later years of Elizabeth s reign and
may be taken as the dividing line between the first and the last' half
.00 of hi.s dramas. I^ater Tra<;edv-0//„//<,. King Uar, Macbeth, Antony
and Cleopatra. Coriolanus, and Tinion, the last being only in part the work
of Shakespeare.
Fo.rRTH Period. -Of the romantic plays, which are at once grave
and glad, seren- an.l beautiful poems-if.o.S to 1612 or 161 ^. Shakespeare's
.05 last works arc full of the calm contentment of one who had retired from the
world, and was .seeking with the cnsciousness of victory the innocence and
stillness of country life. Although during this perio.l. the influences of the
closinr; years of the sixteenth century had exhauste.l themselves and arti-
ficiality, pedantry, and sensuality began t.) cl.iracterize the other writers
MO Shakespeare's latest works show all the natural feeling and the str.-ngth
and tho beauty of the early y.-ars of Iv lizabeth's reign. KoMANci-s-Pm-
eles. Cywbeline, The Tautest, and Winter's Talc. i'KAO.MENT.s-/'K.o Noble
Kinsmen and lleury 17//. -incomplete plays. ! ning the same characteris-
tics as the Romances, and in part the work of another hand.
. \ _v'.
SHAKl'lSPEARK
5^^7
4
, ,-.• n .o the dramas ho produced two narrative THH«m>, -I'.uus ..5
l„ additon to the dramas, n i ....^.-ribed by the author as "the
lA^ionis, publishe<l '^»/-^/f ^' ;''"',,;';/, ^ .V)4. shosvin, less
„„matur.ty than the l"^^^\^'J"»: '^ ^,^.^, -nu' Sonnc-ts are of peeuhar
,,„,s. however, are me el y ! "J^^poets , hi s,.nal emotions ; but the ..o
.-rest, as they P-^f j J^l^^ s. t ^ concealed that we have no
illusions contained in them art ' ^' ^^ they are ad-
,.,.,n clew, either to the "-^ ; . '^, J^! ' ,/ -.hey may. however,
,„,s.ed, or to the pamful even s '«' -' > f j^ \^^ ,,;„„ „,,,. ,..de
into the shade.
„,«, Colend^je fitly ^^^"^ .. -Hus e„d..wment. aided by h.s pro
,,,,,, ,.n,sanciWeclSh.^-r. ^^^^^^^^^ ^^^ ,^_^ ^^^^ ^.^ ^^,^^^,^ ,^. ^ „
found knowledge of the spring onabU'd him to connil-nte to
,Ue various manifestations of >"- ; ;,^. "'\,^. ., emphatically a poet
„erature a -''^•;^; ;— ^^ ; . .il m:rror of life an,l manners • ...s .3s
of nature. His -.orKs are -,•,,,,,, m- real creations, developed
characters are not drawn -"J -;'>^;,,^ V ^ ng natural, they are as
'«v tluir surrc>i.mlMi,s and n.uuu^t nl no ^^^^^^^^^ Shakespeare is
full of interest for us as tlK> ^^^"-^ ' [ ,,^. ,,r ..f projecting
purely objective. No one has -1" •^; Z';-;^ U.eters, and his charac- .,<>
,,, Ueenandda..lin«; '- '^""-;' j'' '^' ; '^^^^^^^ ...lament even in
surpassed him in the portrayal of de.p "^^^^'^- \^^ J, J ,,,,,, ..f mind
...nor details is ecpial to h. ,K,et.cal j^n u u - ^^^^^^ ^^^^^_^_^^^^ ^^,.
,„,u characterized the man \:'^^" '"/';;^^, ,,, ,„,ral arder and sym- .50
---^---^^--^^"f"::^;;^:^;:;:.;^^ i;!:^lf^..c. power and vaned
u.oirv of his dramas. His ?«"«■> „r-.ndeur beauty, and passu.n,
...cellencies of "^-'^^ J^jl^^,^ ^ '^ ^^J^ '^i s of song, he may be
,.ud sweetest music, and =^>l/*'"^'""" '''!■' ^r^^,,,,,,.y and Milto", and
ranked with the greatest -w.th ^P*^'-*^^' '^'/.^r, ^en, more senteii- .55
Dante-he is a. the sam. time ""'- ";'".,, '."^ J.^, abounding con-
tious than Pope, and almost more ^P'' >:»" f ;"' ^ ' ,^,^ ,„ ,,,,.„, bands
ceit. when he chooses, than Donne, or .0 1^ ■-^.^'^'u, bas, however,
was language ever svu h a flame o fire ^ ' - "^ ^ ^^^^^j ,■, ,,rlier
his defects The quibbles and ^^J^''^'^' ''^T^tL^uaUou, and the ..k>
works, disfigure now and then the finest efiurts of h.s ima^u
■^Si
5o8
ADJWXCED NEADEN.
i ifi
Rrossness of tlu- a^e sometimes soils his pages Occasion.lK- .. ,
THK TKIAI, SCKXK.
I'loiii the " M.iiham ot Vciiicu."
c..n.liti,wrprop,s J „.;'„\' .|^' ■^^'^^l-':^^ tl,o money on .h,
'lay, Antonio'sl.all fc f.: t a , „n of h -V '^'"."''.^ »'■'"' "" "'^ ^•^''•^■-'i"
-l>a..-ver part of his l^ul \ r^. .'^La se^^; When "I. "r"' ""■ '••""'
Antonio s nnal)h- to m,.,>t l,i. - i i • ^'^'^^'- , ^^ '•< " t'>" tune comes
trial sccMU,. in wl.id, Vnyu^i^U^M
l>octorc.f Laws, pleads s„ccess;;Ub'tie'iase.:;A^^^^^ "■^^"'-' ^ ''
I.
S.v«.-A ronrt of Justice, Pn.<„/-TnK D, kk, the Magnifkoes.
Anion,,,. J...ssa.n.o. (Ikat.ano, S.m.kk.o, an.I others,
Diikf. What, is Antonio liere ?
Antonio. Ready, so j^leaso voiir {,'race.
/^///(v. I am sorry for theer'thou art come to answer
A ston>- adversary, an inhuman wretcli
5 Uncapable of pity, void and empty
From any dram of mercy.
,/'"^"'""- I have heard
^ our ^rracc hath taVn ,i,neat pains to (inahfv
His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate
And that no hiwful means can carry me
,o Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose
My patience to his fury, and am armed
I.iti;k.akv.--As the literary analv-
SIS proceeds, modernize the arcli.i'ic
e.\pressions and constructions, point
out the qualities of the poet s style
and (level(>p the characterii^tics of
the different speakers.
KuKirrioNAKV, -I. Dignified tone
foSehl'rrr"" "■'' ''''''' ""'"'Pa--"-l tone. Note the increasing
«M
30
le increasing
SHJKF.SPliARE. 509
lo suffer, with a quietness of spirit,
The very tyranny and ra«e of Ins.
), Av Go one, and call the Jew nUo the court.
^Uno. He is ready at the door : he con.es. n.y lord.
Eutci- SavLocK.
p„h: Make room, and let hin. stand before our face.-
SI V ock, the world thinks, and 1 tlnnk so too,
T-Uth;ulmtlead-stth.s fashion of thy uKdice
• he last hov.r of act ; and then 'tis thou.dU
■nloult show thy mercy and rennorse more strange
Than is thy strange apparent cr^ielty ;
\nd where thou now exact'st the penalty.
Which is a pound of this poor nu.rchant s flesh,
■phou wilt not only loose the forf-'>t^>^^'' ,,
lUu touched with human gentleness and love,
I'orgive a moiety of the prmcipal ;
C.lancing an eye of pity on his losses
•pH,t have of late so huddled on Ins back,
irnow to press a royal merchant down
\nd pluck commiseration of his state
1 r n brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flmt,
VZ stubborn Turks and Tartars, never trannd
To offices of tender courtesy.
"s;::^;:rTh:4T:— ^^^^^^^ ^^
Vnd'by our holy Sabbath have 1 sworn
To have the due and forfeit of my bond.
If you deny it, let the danger light
Upon your charter and your city sireedo.
Vmril ask me, why I rather choose to have
\ weight of carrion flesh than to receive
l^hree thousand ducats. TU not answer that ;
But, say it is my humor ; is it .mswered ?
lO. Tone of command. addresses Shyluck.
17. Note the change of the Duke s tone ^"^ ij^^^ji^r
/s Shylock. to express his sp.te and revengeful feelings,
quality. (I.. I. ^•) See also (I.. 5)
■■■Mil
510
.-1 /) VANCE 1) RE A /)Eh\
What if my house he trouhleil with a rat,
45 And I he pleased to give ten tliousand (hicats
To have it haned ? What, are you answered yel ?
Some men there are love not a gai)ing pig ;
Some, that are mad if they behold a cat ;
Some, when they hear the bagpipe : for Affection,
so Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood
Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer :
As there is no firm reason to be rendered,
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig ;
Why he, a harmless necessary cat ;
55 ^\'Hy he, a woollen bagpipe ; but of force
Must yield to such inevitable shame
As to ofiend, himself being offended ;
So can I give no reason, nor I will not.
More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing
60 I bear Antonio, that I follow thus
A losing suit against him. Are you answered ?
JSassaiiio. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
i ' excuse the current of thy cruelty.
Shyloik. I am not bound to please thee with my answers
liassaino. Do all men kill the things they do not love ?
S/iylock. Hates any man the thing he would not kill ?
Bassanio. Every oflFence is not a hate at first.
Shylock. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee
twice }
^ Antonio. I pray you, think you question with the Jew :
70 You may as well go stand upon the beach
And bid the main flood bate liis usual height ;
You may as well use question with the wolf
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ;
You may as well forbid the mountain pines
75 To wag their high tops and to make no noise.
When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven ;
You may as well tlo anything most hard.
As seek to soften that— than which what's harder?—
His Jewish heart : therefore, I do beseech you,
6s
62. Indignant tone. 70-80. Note the increasing force.
s HAKES pi: ARI-:
5'«
85
TO
9)
Mike no more offers, use no farther means.
l..,',t with all brief and plaiti eonveniency
. mr have incitement and the Jew Ins will.
''^;":;,!;rFor'hy three thousand ducats here .s s.x.
SInlock. If every ducat in six thousand ducats
Were in six parts and every part a ducat.
1 would not draw them; I would have nu bond.
)!• How Shalt thou hope for mercy, renderm,' none
sllock. What judKMnent shall I dread. <lomt,' .u) wron« .
^•ou have amouK you many a purchased slave.
Which like your asses and your do«s and nudes.
Vou use in abject and in slavish parts.
He-cause you bought them: shall 1 say to you.
I et them be free, marry them to your hens?
Why sweat they under burdens? let their beds
He made as soft as yours, and let their palates
He seasoned with such viands ? Vou will answer :
^•The slaves are ours!" so do I answer you:
The pound of flesh, which I demand of hnn.
Is dearly bought ; 'tis mine and 1 will have it.
If you deny me, f^e upon your law !
There is no force in the decrees of Venice. ^
I stand for judt^mient : answer ; shall I liave it .
Dnh: Upon my power 1 may dismiss this court.
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor.
Whom I have sent for to determine this.
Come here to-day.
SaUrio. My lor^l' ^^'"^^ ''^''>'^ without
A messenger with letters from the doctor.
New come from Padua.
Duke. Bring us the letters ; call the messenger.
Bassanio. Good cheer, Antomo! What. man. courage >et . ..
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all,
Fre thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood
Antonio. I am a tainted wether of the flock.
Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit
Sa8s Utter these lineB slowly and deliberately. .00 Contempt.
84-»5 ^J"''^ i'"^ ' lliuh-pitched tone of announce-
102. Surly tone. 107 My lord, tt "</ 'i>K" i '^^
ment
ril
too
10s
f
■w miij ii
512
ADVANCED READER.
%
l\
iff
\'' 'A
IIS Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me:
You cannot better be employed, Bassanio,
Than to live still and write mine epitaph.
Enter Nerissa, dressed like u lawyer's clerk.
Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ?
Nerissa. From both, my lord. IJellario greets your grace.
[Presenting a letter.
120 Bassanio. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly ?
Shyloek. To cut the forfeiture from tliaJ. bankrupt there.
Gratiano. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
Thou mak'st thy knife keen ; but no metal can,
No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness
IJ5 Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee ?
Slivlock. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
Gratiano. O, be thou damned, inexorable dog!
And for thy life let justice be accused.
Thou almost makest me waver in my faith
130 To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That souls of animals infuse themselves
Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit
Governed a wolf, who, hanged for human slaughter,
Even from the gallows did iiis fell soul fleet,
135 And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallowed dam,
Infused itself in thee ; for thy desires
Are wolfish, blooily, starved, and ravenous.
Sliyloek. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond.
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud:
140 Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall
To cureless ruin, I stand here for law.
Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend
A young and learned doctor to our court.
Where is he ?
Nerissa. He attendeth here hard by,
,45 To know your answer, whether you'll admit him.
Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four of you
Go give him courteous conduct to this place
120. Low tone, as the speaker addresses Shyloek only, who in turn
addresses Bassanio only.
•^'iWs
SHAKESPEARE
513
11.
Enter Portia, dressed like n doctor of hiii-s.
Cive me your hand. Come you from old Hellario ?
Portia. 1 did, my lord.
j)„l^^,^ You are welcom.e; take your place.
Are you acquainted witii the difference
That holds this present (piestion in the court ?
Portia. I am informed thorou^ldy of the cause.
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew ?
Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand fortli.
Portia. Is your name Shylock?
Shvloek. Shylock is my name.
j-'ortia. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ;
Yet in such rule that the Venetian law
Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.—
You stand within his danger, do you not ? [To Antonio.
Antonio. Ay, so he says.
Portia. 1^0 you confess the bond ?
Antonio. I do.
Portia. Then must the Jew be merciful.
Shvloek. On what compulsion must I ? Tell me that.
Portia. The (juaiity of mercy is not stranied,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath ; it is twice blest —
ll hlesseth him that gives and him that takes ;
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown ;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty.
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ;
Hut mercy is above this sceptred sway ;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest Gods
150
'55
160
165
170
«75
14S. Hearty tone of greotinR.
1O3 <•/ siq Express clea-lv the difteronci: between the lone of I'ortia and
that of Shylock. The noble sentiments of the former reiimre median
stress, and purest quality, swelling into orotund.
II
(Ml
i^
514
ADVANCED READEN.
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy pica, consider tliis.
That, in th<; course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation : we tlo pray for mercy ;
.80 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To niitif,'ate the justice of thy plea.
Which if thou follow, this strict court of \"enice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst tr.t: merchant there.
,85 Shylocfc. My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law,
The penalty and forfeit of my bond.
Portia. Is he not able to discharge the money ?
liassaiiio. Ves, here I teiuler it for him in the court ;
Yea, twice the sum. If that will not suffice,
•90 I will !)e bound to pay it ten times o'er,
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart.
If this will not suffice, it must appear
That malice bears down truth. Ami I beseech you.
Wrest once the law to your authority :
'95 To do a great right, do a little wrong.
And curb this cruel devil of his will.
Portia. It must not be. There is no power in Venice
Can alter a decree established :
'Twill be recorded for a precedent,
200 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 iionor thee !
Portia. 1 pray you, let me look upon the bond.
ao5 SliyitH'k. 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,
^orfia. Why, this bond is forfeit ;
210 And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
185. Passionate tone. 188. Earnest tone.
202. Tone of deep reverence. 209. Meditative, pure tone.
SHAKESPEARli.
515
\ pound of flesh, to be by him cut ofT
S, ..rest the merchant's heart. - lie nu-rciful :
T ,kc> thrice thy money ; bid me tear tlu' boiul.
'sinlock. When it is paid accorchnj,' to the tenor.
1 1 diitli appear you are a worthy jud«e ;
N on know the law, your exposition
,,,th been most sound : I charge you by tlie hiw,
Whereof you are a well-deservm^ piUar,
l-n.ceed to judKMuent. Hy my soul 1 swear
Tlure is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me: I stay here on my bond
j„l„uio. Most heartily I do beseech the court
r.) L'ivc the judgment. , ■. •
Portin. Why.then thus, ns:
Vou must prepare your bosom for his knile.
5/MUA..O noble judge! O excellent youug man !
PoHia. For the intent aiid purpose ot the law
tlath hdl relation to the penalty
Which here appeareth due upon the bond.
Slnhuk. 'Tis very true: O vi-.e and upright judge!
\ low much more elder art thou than thy looks !
P,,rtirt. Therefore lay bare your bosom.
Ay, his breast :
So savs the bond— doth it not, ncjble judge ?--
•• Nearest his heart : " those are the very words.
'portia. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh
The flesh ?
ShvlocL I have them ready.
Portia Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,
To slop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.
Shvloc/:. Is it so nominated in the bond?
Portia. It is not so expressed ; but what of that ?
Twere good you do so much for charity.
ShvlocL I cannot find it ; 'tis not in the bond.
ziz Be merciful. Note .»>- mge of tone.
224. 226. et wq. Tone of or. loiivering j.ulKmont.
2^2. Ay, his breast, guic. .cited tone.
233. Nearest his heart. U.ter .lowly and sv.th great et^.phas.s.
238. Tone of surprise.
»i5
a*o
»»S
a 30
»35
340
WT
Ih
i ■ *
1 •
I
ilf *
I \
5if'
ADVANCEn A'EADEK.
Portia, Voii, merchant, have you anything' to say ?
Antonio. Hut little: 1 armed and well prepared. —
Give me your hand, Hassanio. Fare you well !
a«5 Grieve not that I am falli-n to this for you ;
For herein Fortune shows herself more kind
Than is her custom : it is still her use
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth.
To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow
aso An af,'e of poverty ; from which lin<;ering penance
Of such misery doth she cut me otV.
Conunenil me to your Iionorahle wife :
Tell her the process of Antonio's end ;
Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death ;
»35 ;\j',d, when the tale is tokl, hid her be judge
W hother Hassan io had not once a love.
■ C ]!ent not you that you shall lose your friend,
Ar.d he repents not that he j)ays your ilebt ;
For if the Jew do cut but deep enough,
a6.) ril j)ay it instantly with all my heart.
Ihissanio. Antonio, I am married to. a wife
Which is as dear to me as life itself;
J^ut life itself, my wife, and all the world,
Art! not with me esteemed above thy life:
263 I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all
Here to this devil, to deliver you.
Portia, Your wife would give you little thanks for that,
If she were by, to hear you make the oiler.
Gratiano. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love:
»7.. I would she were in heaven, so she could
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew.
Ncrissa, 'Tis well you offer it behind her back;
The wish would make else an unciuiet house.
SJiylock. [Aside \ These be the Christian husbands. 1 have
a daughter;
27s Would any of tlie stock of I^arrabas
Had been her husband rather than a Christian! —
[Aloiiif] We trille time; I pray thee, pursue sentence!
.;4.<. Antonio speaks with calmness. 267. Bantering tone.
SIlAKESri-ARI-
5«7
Portia. A poiuul of that sanu
lucrchant's tli-sh is thiiuv
1„. rourt awards it, and tlu« law doth k'ivf it.
S//>7f'f*. Most rightful jiulKf!
St cut this t1< •^h hum ott Ins hn ast.
tim
PortUi. And you nui
'Ilic law allows it, and the court
Shvloili. Most Icarnc
IjudK't
(Is it.
■iitenct;! ("onic, pit part
httlc; there is sonu-thiiij^ else
thee here no jot of blootl;
r„rli(i. Tarry a
riiis bond doth «ivt
Tlu. words expressly are "a pound ol
hen thy bond, take tht)U thy pt)unil t)i llesh ;
»85
II
ksli
T.ike tl
I'.iit. in the cutting it, i
thou dost shed
( )nc dro}
hop of Christian blood, thy lands and «<««>«
scatt-
Are, by the laws of Venice, conh
Into the State of Venice.
Gratinnn. O upright judKo'.-Mark. jew:-() learned j
liud
L'C
Shyhn-k. Is that tiie law
Portia.
Thyself shalt see the act
I'Or, as thou ur^cst justice, be assured
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou tlesirest.
(iratiaim. () learned jml^,'e! -Mark, Jew: a learnetl jml^'e .
Sliylock. I take this offer, then: pay the bond thrice
And let the Christian f;o.
liassaiiio. Mere is the money.
Portia. Soft!
The jew shall have all justice; soft ! ^ no haste: -
lb shall have nolhinf,' but the penalty.
„ratia„o. O Jew! an upn^^ht jutl^'C a le.'irnod ju« ^e!
Portia. Therefore, prepare thee to cut ofi the lUsh.
Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more
jiut just a pound of flesh. If thou tak'st more
Or less than a just pound, be it but so much
As makes it lif^dit or heavy in the substance,
Or the division of the twentieth i)art
Of one poor scruple— nay, if the scale do turn
Hut in the estimation of a hair —
Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.
283. Come, prepare 1 Loud, fierce tone.
292. Note the mockinp, sarcastic tone of f ".ratiano,
293. Slow tone of surprise. Emphasize " that."
j.)<
300
305
310
-11.
iff SI
MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART
(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)
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M
1.25
156
IB
2.8
■ 4.0
1.4
1^
2.2
2.0
1.8
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^^ 1653 Eost Main Street
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51^^^
ADVANCED READER.
315
320
325
Grat'iano. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip.
Portia. Why doth the Jew pause? — Take thy forfeiture.
Shylock. Give me my principal, and let me go.
Bassanio. I have it ready for thee; here it is.
Portia. He hath refused it in the open court:
He shall have merely justice and his bond.
Gratiano. A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel!
1 thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
Shylock. Shall I not have barely my principal ?
Portia. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.
Shylock. Why, then the devil give him good of it !
I'll stay no longer question.
Portia. Tarry, Jew:
The law hath yet another hold on you.
It is enacted in the laws of Venice,
If it be proved against an alien
That by direct or indirect attempts
330 He seek the life of any citizen.
The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive
Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half
Comes to the privy coffer of the state ;
And the offender's life lies in the mercy
335 Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice.
In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st ;
For it appears, by manifest proceeding.
That indirectly, and directly too,
Thou hast contrived against the very life
34^ Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurred
The danger formerly by me rehearsed.
Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke.
Gratiano. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself.
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
345 Thou hast not left the value of a cord ;
Therefore thou must be hanged at the state's charge.
:
J12-313. Note the difference in the feelings of the speaker in these two
lines. 321. What are Shylock's feelings?
325. Tarry. High-pitchcid tone. 336.342. Stern tone.
SHAKESPEARE.
519
) hang thyself.
350
Duke. That thou shah see the difference of our spirit,
1 pardon thee thy Ufe before thou ask it.
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ;
The other half comes to the general state,
Which humbleness may drive unto a hue.
Portia. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio.
Shy lock. Nay, take my life and all ; pardon not that :
You take my house when you do take the prop
That doth sustain my house ; you take my life
When you do take the means whereby I live.
Port'ux. What mercy can you render him, Antonio ?
Gratiano. A halter gratis ; nothing else, for God's sake.
Antonio. So please my lord the duke and all the court
To quit the fine for one half of his goods,
I am content, so he will let me have
The other half in use, to render it.
Upon his death, unto the gentleman
That lately stole his daughter :
Two things provided more,— that, for this favor.
He presently become a Christian ;
The other, that he do record a gift.
Here in the court, of all he dies possessed.
Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.
Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant
The pardon that I late proroiniced here.
Portia. Art thou contented, jew ? what dost thou say ?
Shylock. I am content.
Portia. Clerk, draw a deed of gift.
Shylock. I pray you. give me leave to go from hence ;
I am not well. Send the deed after me.
And I will sign it.
Duke. Get thee gone, but do it.
Gratiano. In christening thou shalt have two godfathers.
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more,
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. {Exit Shylock.
Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner.
335
360
365
370
37S
380
353. Broken voice, to express Shylock's feelings at his loss.
374. Humble, subdued tone.
it
520
ADVANCED READER.
Ufm
f ,! ■ :•!
!f«i>
Por/^r/. Ihumbly do desire your grace of pardon :
I must away this iiiglit toward Padua,
And it is meet I presently set forth.
Did'c. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not.
385 Antonio, gratify this gentleman,
For, in my mind, you are much bound to him.
„ [Exeunt Duke and his train.
Dassanw. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof,
39^ Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.
Antonio. And stand indebted, over and above.
In love and service to you evermore.
Portia. He is well paid that is well satisfied ;
395 And I, delivering you, am satisfied,
And therein do account myself well paid :
My mind was never yet more mercenary.
I pray you, know me when we meet again :
I wish you well, and so I tak^ v leave.
1. Explain the terms Dramatic Poetry. Tragedy, and Comedy.
2. Develop fully the statements in 11. i-s n qo=; ^Spp rr^«n'e e/ /
"i:!kZt f-""'^'^^'' ^-^''•. Chapter V^il^' lec'tiof V^LrDowden'
Slud'cspcnrc Pnntcr, pp. 5-G; and Prim. ofEni^. Lit., pp. 59-S8 ) °''''^" '
taken i\s place ? (see fc.t ^ ^r^^^pp.T'sA^ °' compos.t.on has
5. Apply the Critical estimate, pp. 508-509, to the above selection.
G. Cxive a full account of Chaucer and of Spenser. (See Prim ofF,,^ T h
llnS;;": '"' ''-'^-^ ^"°""' ^°^ ^^^ ''^--y barrinness o? tSeenth
Composition.
in' The'Tr'illtS"" °' ''^^°^'^' ^"'°"^°- -^' ^^^
nio, as portrayed
^gprMmaa aai M
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
W I L S O N
General Wolfe and Old Quebec.
), as portrayed
he (lid not beloiiR by birth to tlie aristoc-
racy.
8. James Wolfe was born ill Kent, January
2, 1727. He entered the army as ensign in
1742, and saw active service in tlio war that
broke out with France in the foUowini; year,
being present at the battles of Deltinncn,
Falkirk, and Cnllodcn. After the battle of
Lanfeldt he was publicly thanked for his
gallantry by the Duke of Cumberland. In
1757, he took part in an unsuccessful attack
on the west coast of France ; b\it, his per-
sonal skill and daring advice on this occasion
attracting the notice of Pitt, ho was appointed
the following year second in conmiand to
Amherst in the expedition against Louis-
bourg. In 1827, Lord Dalhousie caused
a monument to be erected at Quebec in
memory of Wolfe and his opponent, Mont-
calm.
9. Jeffrey Amherst (i7i7-'797)— A gallant
soldier, whose reputation rests chiefly on
his successes in America during the Colo-
nial War (see Primer 0/ Canadian History).
He was subsequently knighted, made com-
mander-in-chief of the British army, and
created a peer under the title of Baron
Amherst of Montreal.
9. Lord Loudon, Govert» . 01 the Domin-
ion of Virginia, and Commander-i'i-chief of
the British forces in North America.
13. Edward Boscaweu-/Joscrt:i',ii-(i7ii-
i-Qo)— An English admiral who, on account
of distinguished courage and skill shown in
operations against the French, wasappointttl
to the command of the fleet in the attack on
■ 1 Cape Breton (1758). In the following year
Text, line 7.-famay — interest — Pitt j he defeated the French in the Bay of Lagos,
himself was disliked by the nobility because 1 receiving in consequence a pension and the
Introductorv, line 12.— ArchaEology—
The science that deals with antiquities,
ancient implements, ornaments, dwellings,
coins, etc.
Prehistoric Annals — The history of a
country, before the existence of written
records, deduced from the character of its
antiquities.
54. Caliban — The name of the hideous
slave of Prospero in Shakespeare's Tim-
p J. " He has the dawnings of under-
standing, without reason or the moral
sense." He thus realizes the assumed
"connecting link" betv.'een man and beast ;
no such link having been hitherto found
cither existing or in the fossil state.
54-55. Darwinian . . . Evolution— Charles i
Darwin, the eminent English naturalist,
published, in 1859, a book with the title.
The Origin of Species by Means of Natural
Selection, In this he argues that the differ-
ent species of plants and animals were not
each a special creation ; but that each
undergoes alterations in the course of time
whereby it is adapted to different conditions
of life; that those variations of species
which are best fitted for the struggle of life
survive, and that the others perish. This
process, which is known as " the survival
of the fittest," Mr. Darwin believes to have
always prevailed ; hence he concludes that
all existing species have developed, or have
been evolved, from a few low forms of life.
56. Setebos- sc/'-c-6os— The god worship-
ped by the hag-mother of Caliban.
522
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
thank? of the House of Coininons. Pitt said
ol liim that " lie was always ready with sug-
fe'estions and expedients, where other ad-
mirals saw only difficulties."
i6 Court of Versailles— frtiV-sa/j-^v'— So
also the " Court of St. James " is equivalent
to " Great Britain " or the " b.jii^h Govern-
ment"— but only in its diplomatic relation?
with foreign powers.
iS. Kensington— On the west side of Kcn-
suigton Gardens, London. It was bought by
William III.; but is no longer used exclu-
sively as a royal residence. Queen Victoria
was born there.
i8. City-That part of London built origi-
nally by the Romans and surrounded by a
wall. " • • ■
I 33- Beauport— A village on the St. Law-
rence, near Quebec.
59- See "GrayMClegy," 11. 33.36.
75- Horatio Nelson (1758-1805) was from
hoyhood noted for his daring. Though his
rapid advance in his profession was due to
the influence of friends, yet he performed in
the most admirable manner every duty en-
trusted to him. He always felt he should
some day do great deeds. "One day or
other I will have a long gazette to myself.
. . . Wherever there is anything to be done,
there Providence is sure to direct my steps."
His nature was most noble and humane:
he cared for his sailors as no other com^
mander cared for them, and he always
shared their hardships. (Por Nelson's great
It U =t;,i »^ . -J •• \ — liamaiinib. tror iNcisons great
It IS said to cover only 370 acres of exploits, see Greene's or Thompson's His..
ground.
20. Horace Walpole (1717-1797) - The
third son of Sir Robert. He took no active
part in politics, his tastes being literary and
antiquarian. He wrote some works, includ-
ing The Castle ofOtmnto; but his fame rests
on his Letters, wliich are pictures of the
fashionable society, and records of the gos-
S'P, of the time. Macaulay says of him
' Whatever was little seemed to him great,'
and whatever was great seemed to him little'
Serious business was a trifle to him, and
trifles were his serious business."
24. Goree-ffo-ra>''-A small, but impor-
tant, island and town near Cape Verde.
32. Louis Joseph (Marquis de Montcalm)
was born near Nismes (ncem), Prance, in
1712. Entering the army when only four-
teen, he served in all the campaigns of tlie
numerous wars waged by Prance 'uring his
ifetime. His ability having procured for
him the command hi Canada in 1756 he
began at once active measures against the
English, capturing Oswego in August of the
same year. In 1757 he took Fort William
Henry on Lake George, and in the following
year repulsed an attack on Ticonderoga bv
♦ liB V,.„1.V1, ...:.i, - /■_ r ° "J
tory of England and Southey's Life of NcU
I son.)
83. The " afl^ianced bride " was Miss Kath.
erine Lowthcr, sister of Sir Jas. Lowther
afterwards Earl of Lonsdale.
92-95. The remaining lines of this stanxa
are :
" But, ah, thy faithful soldier
Can true to either prove-
Fame fires my soul all over,
While every pulse beats love."
98-99- The lines of this stanza preceding
the quotation are:
" '^!i?» 'hink where'er I wander
ine sport ot seas and wind."
113- Sir Horace Mann-Pamous chi^fl,
as a letter writer. For some time liritish
Ambassador at the court of Florence.
114-115. Observe that "have tailed" re-
fers to previous failures, while "we cer-
tainly shall" expresses the writer's antici-
pation of Wolfe's defeat. For English at-
tacks on Quebec, see Primer of Canadian
Hts'ory, Chap. II., 13, and IV., 5.
118. Cowper-See Biographical notice
etc., of Cowper in this volume. The quota-
the English with a force four times as great ■ " '' *^'°™ ^'"' ^''^*' Book II., II. 235.238,
Z^^;o a^i;r l:: ;^X^ I , "^««•^-^" west (.738-^820), the cele.
approachofalargerforceanLTrdln t I birr v^T-"' T '" ^"""'^■'^" ^^ '"•^"^'
threatening Quebec. (See note onl sTa! art le wf 7"°^° " '° ''"^°'"-' '° ^'"'^^
sentence.) ' ^' | ^'^'' "^ ^^^ induced to remain in England
i In his " Death of Wolfe," West, contrary to
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
523
age on the St. Law-
ines of this stanxa
stanza preceding
the advice of his friends, represented the
persons in the dress ot the time ; this pro-
duced a revolution in liistoric painting. TIjo
"Battle of La Hogue," "Christ healing the
Sick," " Death on the Pale Horse," are other
well-known pictures of his.
129. Wilton, a sculptor of some repute.
129. Westminster Abbey— See "Wash-
ington Irving," page 183.
138. Marlborough . . . Wellington -See
Greene's or Thompson's History of ling-
land.
139. Sir William Howe (1729-1814) had
served under Wolfe at Quebec, and on the
breaking out of the war with the colonies,
succeeded General Gage in the command
of the British forces at Boston. He com-
manded at the battle of Bunker Hill, con-
ducted the withdrawal of the British from
Boston (1776), and in the following year took
New York after the battle of Long Island,
where he remained till superseded by Clin-
\on in 1778. He was a brother of the cele-
Xirated admiral Howe.
John Burgoyne had obtained some dis-
tinction a;4ainst the Spaniards before being
appointed to the command of the army in
Canada (1777). He was ordered to pene-
trate southward, by way of Lake Champlain
and the Hudson in order to cut off New
England from the other colonies. Neglect-
ing to keep op'jn his communications with
Canada, he was surrounded at Saratoga and
captured. This event led to the alliance of
France with the colonies. On returning to
England ho resigned all his appointments,
entered Parliament and opposed the further
prosecution of the war. He devoted the
latter part of his life to literary pursuits.
151. Note the proper meaning of "the
boast of heraldry."
151. Found . . . wreaths— For explana-
tion of this treatment, see " Discoverer of
Canada," p. 24, H. 13-22-
i52.i53_See note on 1. 8, last clause.
155. Louis XV. (i7io-i774)-The great-
grandson and successor of Louis XIV. His
reign was one of almost continual disaster
for France ; he was sunk in sensuality, self-
ishness and baseness, and cared nothing for
the interests or honor of his kingdom. His
favorites disposed of revenue and offices
alike; even in the most critical times the
generals were appointed by lluiii. During
his reign the people were most cruelly oi>.
pressed, and, when he died "his funeral
was a kind of popular festival."
156. delighted to honor— See Book of
Esther, VI., C.
163-165. with all ... . England See
Greene's History of Ens-'Uuid, Chap. X., sec.
I, "The Conquest of Canada."
166-167. So ... • continent — Montcalm,
as an observing man, was fully aware of the
spirit animating the Knt^lish colonies; the
spirit of liberty among them was such that
th(;y would not submit to the exactions im-
posed by the British government.
166-167. that old vantage-ground is sim-
ply a synonym for Quebec.
167-169. And though . . . assumption —
When the rivalry ceased, owing to the tri-
umph of the English, the colonies became
in a short time independent: so long as
France held the country north of tlic St.
Lawrence, the English colonists had to rely
on the mother country for protection or aid.
England has now practically willnlrnvn;
Canada alone, with her different form of
government, is brought into rivalry with
the United States.
170. Has still a lesson for ourselves-
The conquest of Canada led to the disrup-
tion of the British Empire. The dream of
the union of all the states of this continent
under one flag is impossible of fulfilment.
Should such a dream be partially realized,
a disruption would inevitably soon take
place, such as succeeded the conquest of
Canada in 1759. All dreams, then, of a vast
republic, coextensive with North America,
should be laid aside as contrary to the ex-
perience of the past.
170-175. The . . . England-See McGee's
" Speech on Confederation," with Notes, etc.,
showing differences between the Canadian
Constitution and that of the United States.
178-180. Should . . . disunion -Note fur-
ther that the larger the nation and the more
numerous and varied the elements that
■i"
r^
I ! ■
'!)
n
52|
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
form .t. the greater is the risk of disruption.
For an account of the causes of the dis-
rupt.on of the Kon.an ]:n„.ire and of the
Prankish i;„,,,iro, sec Schmitz's Ancient
History and iMoenian's General History,
at the conquest of Quebec to disappear in a
fcehngofthankhdnes.."
i8.j. NouveUe France - noo-vcr - New
France.
181-184. Our . . . future -The history of
most of the original Stales of the Union
presents similar cliaractcris(ics. Canada's
past lias been quite <h-stinct from that o/<he
States. Hence while these States miKht
read.ly unite into one country, our history
■nd.cates that we should be a distinct na-
•on; and no a.lvocate of the Monroe doc-
tnne could n,ake i, otherwise by any process
of rc^uiomng, or statement of so-calle.I f;,c.s.
(Seen :«5.,6,, j,,.„„„^^^_^,.^^ .J
of the Un.ted States (,8,6-8.5), announced,
n 1823, as the policy of the United States,
"lat as a prmciple. the American conti
trt'L^'l"" '■"'"'' ""''^P-''-" position
hat they have assumed and maintained, are
henceforth not to be considered as subject
for colom,at,on by any European power-
and that any attempt by the European pow-
ers o e.x,end their system to a.fy JZ
of tins hemisphere," would be regarded by
t'.e Un„ed States as '.dangerous ,0 our
"^es.sted. The powers of the Old World
New. Th s ,s the famous " Momoc " doc-
trine. Mex.coand the Spa,n-sh South Ameri
can colonies had. shortly before, become i-"
dependent The phrase "chroniclin^s-
doctnna.rc •'- -refers especially to writers for
the press of the United States
2oa.ao5. For the... did -See Greene's
H.Story of England. The passage refers
especial y to (he "rights" won by the colo-
nies. The success of Lord North and Geo.
HI. in the war of American Independence
would have been a serious blow to the
cause of liberty in the colonics, as well as
■n England. The right of self-govennnent
I'at we, ,n Canada, possess was, after a
hanl battle, fully conceded in ,841. Since
tlien the policy of English Ministers has
been to grant to colonies the fullest amount
"f control possible in the management of
tbeir local affairs. Further, a victo" for
trecdom in one country helps the same
cause,,, another; the successful lesistanee
of tyranny by the American colonics taught
the Unt.sh government to lespect the wishes
and rights of other colonies.
'85-193. The . . . memories-As a sneci
-en of what is expected in answer to Lch
questions as those on 11. 16,-165 iS, TrTa
;5-:96. he following p.,,,pbff;e'on/;t
192 ,s here inserted:-" The French r
dian who cherishes pleasat „:!;£' o^
tlie past of his Province has no r
/Kr:,:^;:tAs-----
ous revolutions that have since marked 'he
history of that country, combined wilh the
knowledge that a better form of gov^ltt
has been accorded the French p ™^"'
Mu can^e «ny regrets
216. Reign of Terror-A period of French
historyf ,^.,3 a„. .,,,,, „^
o the Revolution. The government was in
^.= hands of men who used their powi
most inhumanly. All, of whatever age or
sex, who were suspected of sympathy wi.l
he roy.aHamily or the nobility; a„ if
put to death. No man's life or pr;per !
was safe; scarcely a single accused pe, so
escaped; arrest was nearly equivalent ,;
sentence of death ; trial was only a mocUrl
Nothing like this occurred during Z^Z
Iut,ons ,n England and her American cZ
n,es, although the adherents of the ro yd
cause had to suffer many hardships.
222. Washingrton bureaucracy -The
members of the Executive of the UnSd
States are not responsible to Congress as
the Canadian Executive is to our Parlia
ment; they are responsible to the Presfdent'
alone Hence the management of thlsej
eral departments, or bureaus, partakes I
the nature of an autocracy. P^"^'^«=^ °f
241. Rajah .... Ocean-The Rajah of
Ko ap re , protected state 130 miles south
of Poonah, gives a cup to be comnpt^- r
on Wimbledon CommL,Pu;:rSj:nS;
'I .J ' ,
EXPLANA TOR Y NO TES .
525
to disappear in a
— noo-vd' — New
by m.irksincn from all parts of tlio Uritish i
dominions.
243. Macedonian Alexander— Alexander,
kiiii4 of Miiccdon (h.c. 350-323), overran the
wliole of the vast Persian ICmpirc and then
entered India, His advance eastward was
stopped at the Sutlej by the refusal of his
troops to go farther. (See Schniitz's Ancient
History.)
244. Olympian Games— At these games,
which took place every iiith year, only
those of Greek nationality— whether livinj;
in Greece itself or in the colonies,— wet o
allowed to take part. They were con
tests in all kinds of athletic sports — run-
ning, boxing, wrestling, etc. The victor
was crowned with a garland, and his statue
placed in the gtove at Olynipia, while his
city and family felt themselves hoiiortd by
the victory obtained. The scene ol the
games was at Olynipia, in the coimtry ot
Hlis, in the western part of the Pelopon-
nesus.
SANGSTER.
Our Norland.
The measure is ^a in alternate lines with 3,V(i (9, III.). Occasionally a syllable is to be
slurred over, as in "Nereids" (line 3); "Genii" (line 16); or these maybe taken as .r^rt,
since this foot is frequently found in xa measure. The stanza is an eight-line one, with
alternate single terminal rhymes.
I. Dryads — Nymphs or divinities of
groves, or of single trees, especially of
oaks, as the name implies (Gr. drys, an
oak). Old Greek mythology peopled every
grove, spring, mountain, and river with a
characteristic divinity.
3. Nereids— »t'-ct-trfs — Sea nymphs.
4. Undines- (L. uiuia, water, a wave) —
Female divinities of the water, who sought
marriage with the human race ; if successful,
they were endowed with a soul. Undines
are a fanciful creation of the Cabalists.
5. Satyrs— (L. 5«/>'n/s)— Sylvan deities,
with brutish natures, represented in my-
thology as half men, half goats.
6. The gentle Spenser— See Primer of
English Literature, pp. 68-72.
7. Dream of Chivalry— Spenser's "Faerie
Queen," in which he introduces characters
from Greek mythology among his mediajval
creations.
I • . Ouphs— or " oafs " — Fairies.
15. Sirens — In Greek mythology, sea
nymphs who had power, by their singing,
to charm to destruction all who listened to
them.
19. Echo— In Greek mythology Echo was
an Oread, or mountain nymph, who could
not speak till others had spoken, or be silent
afterwards. On finding that her love for
\:cissus was unrequited, she pined away
.11 , rly her voice was loft.
35-36. Coeval .... hand— Equivalent to
Longfellow's " Forest Primeval."
37. Deep— This is the object of "hav^;,"
1. 25. A similar construction occurs further
on in the poein.
40. lusty days of old— In the oi'a'on of
geologists, volc.mic and oiiier forces of Na-
ture were more active and potent in earliei
than in later times.
48. granite-belted— This epithet is to be
taken in a general sense, equivalent to
"rocky;" at Niagara the rock is limestone.
54. peers — Literally "equals" (L. par).
The early prevalent theory was that the
king ranked btit first among his equals.
55-56. The poetic license of construction
here is sometimes found in connected ideas.
See Milton's Paradise Lust, Book II., 1. yoo.
57-64. We .... day— As these two sen-
tences stand, the contrast is between the
ideas in the principal clauses ; whereas the
1 '■ 4
526
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
contrast intended is between the idea in the
. nu-ndent Cause of „.o first sentence a,^
tliat u, the pnnc.pal clause of the second.
8o A continent of graves I- 1„ Canada
•••o bur.al-placcs of the Indians are fre- 1
•lucntly met with; .hey are usually i„ , he
form of mounds, and. besides bones, con- 1
tain implements of warfare, pottery, orna-
ments, etc. In .ho valleys of the Mississippi
M.ssour,. and Ohio these mounds are often'
to bo met with. an,l not infrequently are of
I huge proportions.
89-9.. Stand .... Sea-The reference is
to the confederation of the Provinces.
The Voltigcun of Chatcauguny.
\mm\
Voltigeurs— i'o/-<f.;/,«„ (" » - 1;^^ .< ^ „ ;„
"-"'•'■)— Light infantry.
Chateaaguay-shah-lo-^ec ("g" hard) or
TO-the forii.cr is a local pronunciation.
A town, on the River Chateauguay. in tlie
county of the same name, in the Province of
Quebec. The river empties into Lalte St
Louis on the St. Lawrence.
24. abattis-«6'-a/.,s or ab-at-tc'-A de-
fence consisting of trees felled and ph. -ed
Side by side, with their branches sliarpened
and pointing outward. De Salaberry. at
Chateauguay. had three lines of abattis, 200
feet apart.
26. at .
10.
heels— Compare Judges IV.,
33. Tirailleurs - iccrah-cd-yur' - Marks
men advanrcl as skirmishers to harass the
e^i^emy. The singular form is used in ,he
33. chasseurs -s;,as.s»^_Light troops
cavalry or infantry, organized for rapid
movement. P"
36. De Salaberry entered the British
army when quite young. He served in the I
wars arising out of the French Revolution
being present as aide-de-camp in the VVal
cheren expedition. On returning to Can-
ada, he raised a regiment of light infantry
among the French Canadians, which proved
a body of highly efficient soldiers. For his
Kallant dee<i at Chateauguay, he received the
flanks of Parliament and honors from the
Prince Regent.
35. SchiUer-5/„V-/..,. Du Chesnay-s/,«-
"".V ; Bruyere— >'a>-(;.
41. No brief .... brave-Referring to a
emporary repulse of the Voltigeurs at the
ford. '
48. Thrice armed -See Shakespeare's
King Henry VI., part II., act III., sc. 2.
49. Who ... . sea -The enemy were
again driven back and met the reinforce-
ments under De Salaberry coming to the
assistance of the repulsed Voltigeurs.
51^ ford-About half a mile in the rear of
De Salaberry 's own position; a few troops
guard the ford, but were driven back by a
force of 1 ,500 Americans.
""i^fi
warfare, pottery, orna-
llcys of the Mississippi,
hcse inoiiiuls are often
not infrequcnlly are of
Sea— Tlio reference is
f tlie Provinces.
re. Sec r j on tlie
Du Chesnay— s/iM-
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
C. KANT.
Tke Discoverer of Canada,
527
i i
3. but In ... . outfit— The metaphors of
a people or an a(,'e arc most eflcctivc (13,
II., 1), wlien drawn from its leacliiiK pursuits
.iiiil liarmonizing with its special character.
;. Parktnan-
-Sec " Parkman," p. 13<J, et
9. Le Molne-J. M. Lc Moinc, a native
of Quebec, where he was born in 1H25, and
the historian of many episo<les in the an-
nals of French Canada and of its provincial
capital. He is the author of a work on
J'icturesijiic (Jiicbcc, and of a scries of anti-
quarian and n.itural history sketches pub-
lished under the title of Maple Leaves.
10. genius loci — lu'-si — ■" The (genius or
guardian spirit of .he place," and hence
supposed to be partial to it. See note on
"Our Norland," 1. i.
11. Boswell — James Boswell was the
noted friend and bioRrapher oT Dr. Johnson ;
he kept a diary in which he recorded with
the Kfcatest minuteness everything that
Johnson said or did. The " ISiography" is
largely a transcript of this diary.
14. "'/oitaire (1079-1778)— The well-known
Frencli philosopher and poet. His philo-
sophical writings exerted a great influence
both at home «..,! abroad, cgntributing in
no slight degree to bring on the French
Revolution.
14. La Porapadour— /rtA pome-pah-door'—
A celebrated lady of the Court of Louis XV.,
of France, whose influence over the king
was unbounded. She disposed of places
and revenue; and declared war and made
peace. The king was accessible only
through her ; and she endeavored, as far
as possible, to withdraw his attention from
affairs of state, and tcf keep him in a cease-
less round of pleasure and dissipation.
15. "successors" — Those who think that
Great Britain would be better freed from
her colonies.
18. Juifs miserables — z/iMCf/ mee-ser-abl
("j" like " z" in flri/re)—" wretched Jews."
20. Philosophes — /ee-h-sof — "philoso-
phers."
21-22. S<(! not«! on Louis XV., I. ijj,
" Wolfe and Old Quebec."
22-44. Notice ..I this passage the .idiuiriiblo
manner in which sevcr.il deiails are wr )ught
into one harmonious whole. Hut seo(ia,
II., 2./;.)
33. poetic significance— The solitary city
at the entrance of a vast unknown and mys-
terious region; the enthusiasm, daring and
devotion of its early inhabitants; the many
associations connected with it, th.it ki'idle
the imagination— all belong to the domain
of poetry.
39-42. Norman .... nineteenth — The
greater part of the early colonists of Lower
Canada ca'ne from Normandy and Brittany,
and still preserve, in a great degree, the
manners and customs they brought with
them.
43. have .... statesman— The antiipic
customs and manners, since they lifler frc.i
those of ordinary modern life elsewhere, arc
subjects lor the artist; and the statesman
may study the effect on modern legislation,
of character and modes of thought belong-
ing to a by-gone day, when the pcoi>le were
governed, not sharers in government.
45. Francis L— King of France from 1515
to 1547. His warlike propensities and his
impulsive and generous nature were fos-
tered by his i)assion for the old romances
of chivalry. He failed in making good his
claim to the imperial crown of Germany,
and in his repeated attempts at the con-
quest of Italy. At Pavia, in 1525, he was
taken pr. jner by his rival, tho Emperor
Charles V.
49. Jacques Ciurtier—Zhak Cart'-te-ay—
See Primer of Canadian History,
55-56. Lutheran and Calvinistic heresies
—Martin Luther (1483-1546), a monk of the
Augustine Order, and noted as a powerful
and impressive preacher. Having attacked
some of the abuses in the Church, he was
I
52«
;iiili
Hf
'¥.
hLi
EXP LAN A TOR Y liOTES.
mark. Norway aiul Swclou embraced his
Joctnno. Hi, followers were called "Pro.
testants ■• because, at tho diet of Speicr
(1346), WxL-y pn,tc,Ud a«ainst a decree order-
MB them to rctun. to tho teachings of (he
Catholic Church.
55. John Calvin ( 1 509.1564), founder of the
Calvm.stic branch of the Protestant Church.
Ho was Kr.ul„ally led to embrace and preach
tlie new doclri.ics. Heing compelled to flee
fron. his native I'-ance. he settled at Geneva
where he exercised a wide-spread influence.
He differed from Luther it. his views of the
bacrament of the Lord's Supper. Th- Pro-
tostatus of the Netherl.mds. of Swit;=erland.
and of !• ranee embraced his doctrines.
68-69. a large
leans.
. Islaad— Island of Or-
69. Ste. Croix (-S.iinte Croix) -s«;,^
cwa/i— Now the St. Charles.
8y. Cap Rouge-aj/> roozhc ("g" like "2 "
111 (.;://nj -Seel. 246.
lot. Cap Tommentei — toor-mawiW ~ X
high promontory on the St. Lawrence Kiver
below the Island of Orleans.
loy. Laurentides-The Laurentian moun-
tains north of the St. Lawrence,
114-115- white Montmorency -At
tunes only a very small quantity of water
passes over the falls; the appe.uance is
then, in reality, that of a "'wliite riband."
iiS. Bacchus — 6(//v'-/{//s-
tliolojy, iheijod of wine.
i::;. Recollets-/vo-co/-/.os' -A branch of
tlie Augustine monks. .
«5o. ne exeat-rr'-f.fl/_Tho lull lorm is
"Ne exeat regno," that is, "Let him not
depart from the kinguom." It is tho legal
term for a writ issued fo prevent a debtor
from leaving the country.
151. golden .... aide-Tho allusion is
to a fiction which describes a shield, one
side of which was of gold an<l tho other of
silver, being hung up where two cross-roads
met. Two knights, riding from opposite
directions, came to the shield a tho same
time; one declared it was gold, the other
that it was silver. A fight ensued ; and it
was not till both were unhorsed and bleed-
ing that they discovered that "the shield
hid two sides."
-In Greek iny-
128-129. St. Peters Lake-A sh.illow ex-
166. cradle-hills-Littie hillocks supposed
to have been lormed originally by a mass of
earth adhering to the roots of trees when
blown down.
173- Champlain-Sce;V/mfro/C(j«arf(««
I //is/on, Chap. II., Sec. 6.
189. Hercules— /;i-r-cH-/m— In Greek my-
thology a .lero or denii-god, renowned for
his great strength, which was exerted for
tho good of man.
189. .«sop — c'-so/i — An ancient Greek
writer of fables, about whom little is known ;
some have even doubted his existence. It
IS said that he lived in th,« sixth century,
H.c. ; that he was a slave, and deformed in'
person. The fables known by his name are
to be mot with in all IC uropean tongues and
in some of those of .\sia.
The fable referred to says that the wheels
of a countryman's waggon once stuck fast
in a deep rut; the man called on Hercules
for help; but the latter, looking down from
a cloud, told him "to lash his norses well,
Pansion of tl„, c, r • "" ^•^- ••-"•-.'-" """ '" lasn nis norses well,
laiision o the St. Lawrence; its channel and put his own shoulder to the wheel "-in
n„. been dredged to admit vessels of heavy other words, " to help himself "
draught to reach Montreal. '
129- Hoclielaga— /iOi/i.c-/r;/i'-i'«/(_Tho In-
dian village which occupied the present site
of Montreal.
137-138. glowing .... canvas— Tl-e au-
tumn leaves in Europe .ire not so highly
tinted as in Can Ida; hence no artist would
204. seven .... psalms — vf. XXXH
-XX.WHL, Ll„ cn., CXXX., CXLIIL of
the Authorized Version; but VI XX.XI
XXXVII., L.. CL, CXXIX., CXLII.'ofthe
Vulgate.
211. Roquemadour- roke-mah-door',
313. Amhois&—am-bii'ahs'.
I if
RXPLA NA TOR Y NOTF.fi.
529
It fhcin with the colors
>itantb of the Dominion.
'c-at— The lull lorm is
that is, " Let him not
iKUoni." It is the \c^a\
t(i to pri'vcnt a debtor
iitry.
side — The allusion is
liMiibcs a shiukl, one
Kolil an<l the otlitr of
where two cross-roads
riding' from opposite
lie sliield a the same
it was gold, the other
I fight ensued ; and it
e inhorsed and bleed-
ertd that "the shield
ittle hillocks supposed
Kiginaliy by a mass of
! roots of trees when
•c Primer of Canadian
.6.
•u-lecs—\n Greek niy-
ii»-god, renowned for
lich was exerted lor
-An ancient Greek
'horn little is known;
ed his existence. It
n th-3 sixth century,
ve, and deformed in
3vvn by his name are
ropean tongues and
says that the wheels
,'ou once stuck fast
called on Hercules
looking down from
isli his norses well,
r to the wheel"— in
msclf."
ms — VI., XXXII.,
XXX., CXLIII. of
; but VI., XXXI.,
IX., CXm. of the
ke-mah-door',
hz'.
24 (. Roberval-A I'rench m)b!e:ui.i o.
the Province ol I'icardy, and the successor
of Cartier in the colonization of New Trance,
llij connnission was " to discover unknown
1 inds, make settlements, mid toconv( rt the
Indians." Kobcrval was delayed on his
voyage, and, befo.e ho arrived, met Cartier
returning to France, having broken up the
colouy. Koberval pursued his voyago up
tho St. L.iwrence, :uid formed a bCtttetncnt
at C.ip Kouge. A terri'-lu winter (lOti-.!)
was passed amid f.imine, dise.isc, and mu.
tiny. No trustworthy account <xis;s regard-
ing tlio fate of the colony, or of the suliso.
ipient career of Koberval. See I'rimer of
Canadian llizfory.
RORFRTS.
Drotlur Cuthhcrt.
The measure is 4a.vcatalcctic (- incomplete); the linos with double rhymes-such as
2 and 4 -are acitalectic ( = complele). Tlio stanza consists of six line-., the fir.,t four
rhyming alternately, the last iwo a couplet. (See note on tie measure of " The Voltigcura
of Cha*r;auguay.")
" Uroth<:r Cuthbcrt " is of tho author's " own Imagining " " Tho form of tlio poem is a
dramatic lyric, intended to represent a ph.iso in monastic lili' svhich chanced to como
rather vividly before me in the course of some Inirrowiags in Medieval fhurcli History.
... My monk is a native of Ireland, because Irel.aiid at that time was the scene of refined
delights and sudden grievous calamities in strange mixture."
7. it— This is the explctivn use of it
Of.
L'AUesro,\. vi- " Come, and trip il as y« go."
13. Shrive me — An cj.icul.-ition, not an
oath; see also 1. 31. The monk's ejacula-
tions arc derived from wli.it he is familiar
with.
i4-:6. Monks .... looks The belief in
tho appearance of ghosts on Christmas ICve
was wide-spre.ad. Innumerable holiday
stories, both of the present and of former
times, are founded upon this superstition.
38. Iron-mouthed -Having the lips as
firmly closed as if m.ade of iron, in order
that no expression of grief might escape.
65 W) whooe . . . brand l~-/<;cliari,di iii. a.
67 78. Notice that in these two stanzas the
re.jctition of "now" indicat-js ch.inges of
expression on the face of the sleeping; f;uth.
bert, which are interpreted by the monk.
ai-K4. To restore .... wide-That i.s
" eternity may not restore your little world
of happiness— it is too wide for -ou to find
38. The List syllable of this line b- natur.illy
unaccented ; hence there is a break in the | it there.'
rhythm. Dwell in pronunciation on " ring- 1
cj6. Telling .... woe—" Thinking over
your sorrows, as you would count over the
ings."
39. The gray city— Worcester is meaiu
rosary.
The Maple.
Ih, .Tioasur- is ^xa v/ith frequent xxa feet, alternating with ^xa. In scansion the final
rhyme of double-rhymed lines is often not counted.
The rhymes are peculiar ; the even-numbered lines, with the exception of the two final
ones, h.ave double rhymes- in the others, with the exception of the first pair, the middle
word rhymes with the final word : this is termed " Middle rhyme." The Ca:sura is very
noticeable in the lines with middle rhymes.
530
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
ml ^
1. tenderly deepen— The deeper, softer
gloom wliich the new leaves of spring-time
produce.
3. delicately — In verse, any polysyllabic
word may have more than one verse accent,
provided an imacccnted one intervenes.
ji-iz. locust
comer— The locust, a
species of acacia, is not a native of New
Crunswick—whcre the author of the poem
resides.
15-16. towers .... Winter's leg-ions —
An allusion to the beacon tires of former
times built on hill tops to give warning of
nn approaching enemy. See Macaulay's
" The Armada."
GOLDWIN SMITH,
The Bafth- of Liitzcn.
Lutren— 'The Koun<l of « in this word,
like the French «, is not recognized in Eng-
lish ; but it may be heard in the prolonged
sound of iiT in "r.wcct." Lutzcn is a town
in Prussian Saxony. Here also, in 1813,
Napoleon vanquished the combined Rus-
sians and Prussians.
I. Gustavus [Adolphus] (1594-1632), the
grandson of the Swedish hero-king, Gusta-
vus Vasa, succeeded to the throne of Sweden
on the death of his father, Charles IX. He
was an accomplished man, speaking and writ-
ing several languages, skilled in business,
and excelling in all warlike and manly exer-
cises. Troubles at home he met in a spirit
of conciliation, winning the enthusiastic sup-
port of all orders. In times of peace Gusta-
vus exerted himself to advance the pros-
perity of his country, by enacting beneficial
laws, and by promoting conmicrce and man-
ufactures. Not a little of Sweden's glory at
that time was due to the influence that his
high character and earnest piety exerted
over a'.l classes in his kingdom. Before
taking part in the "Thirty Years' War," he
had wrested southern Sweden from the
Danes ; settled, after a short struggle, an old
dispute with Russia, thereby still further in-
creasing his dominions ; and finally, after a
protracted war, concluded an advantageous
peace with Poland.
5-6. His . , . low— Gustavus felt that the
people were trusting in him instead of in a
Higher Power ; and, in the spirit of the He-
brews, he thought that such would not be
suffered to continue. Compare Isaiah xliV 8.
8. Nuremberg: — nur'-cm-bcrj; —(For pro-
nmiciation of tt, see "Lutzcn," above; £*■ as
in "there.") Another form is Nurnberg—
a town in Prussian Saxony, on the Saale.
10. Wellingrton- Arthur Wellesley, Duke
of Wellington (17C9-1852) was born at Dangan
Castle, Ireland. Entering the army in 1787,
he saw active service against the French in
Europe before setting out for India with his
brother, who had been appointed governor-
general. He took a leading part in the
military operations in India, and first won
renown by defeating, at Assaye, with 4,500
men, an army of 50,000 Mahrattas. He re-
turned to England in 1805. (See Greene's
or Thompson's History of England.) His
career in home politics began in 1827, and
closed after the passage of the bill repealing
the Corn Lawr. (184C), which measure he sup-
ported. Honesty of purpose and devotion to
duty were his most striking moral character-
istics.
M. Marmont (1774-1852) — One of Napo-
leon's famous marshals. Sec Greene's His-
tory of England— " Salamanca and Moscow."
1 2. Pappenheim — pap'-pcn-hime — {1594-
1632)— A Bavarian nobleman [distinguished
in the "Thirty Years' War." He served
under Count Tilly, and bore a principal part
in the commission of the terrible excesses
associated with that general's name. He
urged Tilly to fight the disastrous battle of
Breitenfcld, and on the death of his leader
joined Wallenstein, and was killed at Lut-
zen.
14. Halle-
Saxony.
■hal-lay—A town in Prussian
15. Wallenstein — Val-len-stine ~ (1583-
1634) Duke of Friedland and Mecklenburg,
EXPLANATORY \OTES
531
I town in Prussian
belonged to a noble Bohemian family. With
perhaps the exception of Gustavus, he was
the most prominent fiKure in the "Tliirty
Years' War." In offering his services to the
emperor, ho stipulated for, and obtained,
absolute control over the army, which he
had raised and maintained himself. Gusta-
vus being dead, Wallenstein's enemies at
court again accused him of treason— of plot-
ting with the Protestants; his army left him,
and he w.is fin.il!y murdered by the emis-
saries of the emperor.
29. Rippach— n'^'-Ziac/t— "ch" as in the
Scotch loch,
31, Isolani— '•"-o-Zii/t'-iif— An Italian lead-
er of a band . ircenaries.
43. The battle of Inkerm.ann, in the Cri-
mean War, was also fought during a fog.
44-45. sympathy in things — Compare
Scott's Lay of the Last Miiistnt, canto V'.,
stanza i.
50. Luther's hymn— Composed by Luther
and sung by him when entering Worms, to
appear before the emperor, Charles V., and
his Diet.
51. Marseillaise — mar-say-cd-yase' — The
French national hymn, written in 1791 or
1793 by Rouget de Lisle, to cheer a body of
conscripts at Strasburg. It was first heard
in Paris in July, 1792, when a company of
young patriots from Marseilles entered the
city singing it; hence the name. The in-
spiriting words and music of this song
aroused Frenchmen to fight for their coun-
try, as Luther's hymn inspired the Protes-
tants to take up arms for their religion.
; I. militant Reformation -The fighting
period Df the Reformation.
54. Breitenfeld — ft>'t'<i;'-c«-AW— A village
near Leipsic, where three notable battles
took place; one in September, 163T, whca
Gustavus iefeatcd the Imperialist general,
Tilly another in 1642, when the Swedes
again defeated the Imperialists ; and a third
in 1813, when part of the great batt'e of
Leipsic, in which Napoleon was defeated,
took place.
56-59. His ... . day— See Green's His-
tory of England. The student of the Bible
will know that tho Hebrews were impressed
with till' iiliM of the constant presence of
God, and of llis artivc interest ii\ their
afifairs.
61. order of battle-Tho paper contain-
ing the plan of battle.
77. Villeneuve -t'fW-mir' (1763180C)— lie
w.is present at the b.ittlo of the Nile, and
coinmauded tho fleet designed to support
Napoleon's inv.ision of England; f.ailing to
carry out Napoleon's onlei s, he was super-
seded, but wishing to redeem his char.icter
before his successor arrived at 'Cadiz, he
engaged Nelson at Trafalgar: here ho was
taken prisoner. On retmning to France
the following year, he killed himself on
Icirning that an imfavor.iblc --oception
awaited h'wn at P.iris.
77-79. Villeneuve . . . down— Notice the
iutrixlnction .'uid effect of this parallel,— i,
not only supports a previous statement, but
adds to the graphic effect of the narrative
by bringing a well-known f.ict vividly before
the mind.
82. most .... ruffians — They were, as
Prof. Smith elsewhere ;ays, "outcasts olt
every land, beariiir 'he devil's stamp on
faces of every complexion, blaspheming
in all European and some non-European
tongues. Their only coimtry was thecamp;
their cause, booty; their king, the bandit
general who contr.actcd for their blood. . . .
They changed sides without scruple, and the
comrade of yesterday was the foeman of to-
day, and again the comra<le of to-morrow.
The only moral salt that kept the carcass of
their villany from rotting was a military code
of honor."
85. The Walloons are of the old Celtic
r.acc, speaking a French dialect, and inhabit-
ing tl\e south-western pnf of Belgium and
the neighboring districtb of France.
86. The Croats ramo from Croatia, a
southern province of Austria.
87. Magdeburg — "i<i;,''-,/('-fti(/v,'-— A very
important city of Prussian Saxony. Early
in 1631 it was captured by the Imp<^rialists
under Tilly, and given over to tlie soldiers
to be s.ackcd. The most horrible excesses
were committed ; neither age nor sex was
spared. Thirty thousand of the mhabitants
were slaughtered , and great numbers threw
532
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
themselves into the Elbe,
houses were left standing.
Only about 150
92. broken — A species of ininishment
formerly employed in France and Germ.iny.
The criminal was hound to a wheel, with his
arms and legs stretched along the spokes.
The executioner then broke his limbs with
aclub ; this was repeated till death ensued.
Sometimes there was but one breaking, and
the criminal was left to die a lingering death.
104-5. Emperor .
" Lutzen" above.
plains — See note on
ItJli:' I I
106. conscription— During the latter part
of the Napoleonic wars the armies were
filled by levies made on the towns and vil-
lages.
130. Sa.xe-L.a.nenberg—sax-c-lnu'-en-bairg.
139. Bernard of Saxe-Weimar — vi'-mar—
(i6o4-i63g)^Took a distinguished part in tlie
"Thirty Years' War," hastening to join
Gustavus as soon as the latter entered Ger-
many. He is said to have died by poison.
146-147. his , . . hung— The charge of
treason has never been proved. He wished
peace for the empire, with amnesty and
toleration. This policy certainly crossed
that of the Jesuits and Spain, which was
now dominant in the Imperial councils.
171-172. Providence . . . right — The
principle on which trial by combat was
founded was that God would not "buffer the
right to be overcome, and would interfere
in lavor of the weak if the cause was a just
one. Without doubt a bad cause weakens
its defender, while a good cause adds strength
to its champion.
172-173. The stars .... cause — See
Judges V. 20.
180. Te Deum— <c-ifc'-«m— The naine of a
Latin hymn used by the Roman Catholic
Church; an English translation is in the
Episcopalian Church Service—" We praise
Thee, O God."
181-182. Vienna . . . victory — Austria
and Spain were the supporters of the Catho-
lic League.
182-184. For . . . defeat— .\fter the death
of Gustavus "every part of Germany was
repeatedly laid under heavy war contribu-
tions, and swept through by pillage, mur-
der, and arson, . . . When the war began,
Germany was rich and prosperous
At its close, she was a material and moral
wilderness. In a district selected as a fair
average specimen of the effects of the war,
it was found that of the inhabitants three-
fourths, of the cattle four-fifths, had perished.
. . . The villages through whole provinces
were burnt, or pulled down to supply ma-
terial for the huts of the soldiery."
202. Gustavus Vasa (1496-1560), or Gus-
tavus Erickson, the hero-king of Sweden,
belonged to a noble Swedish family distin-
guished for its opposition to the union of
Sweden with Denmark. He was sent as a
captive to Denmark, but escaping, succeeded
after many dangers and hardships in arousing
the peasants of Dalccarlia against the Danes.
The revolt was successful, and the Swedes
gave the crown to Gustavus. During his
reign Sweden adopted the Lutheran doc-
trines, and rose to a high place among the
powers of Europe.
203. Christina (ifi26-i(i8f))— The only child
of Gustavus Adolphus. Having succeeded
her father, she was crowned in 1644, and
ruled with vigor. She was eccentric, but
clever and highly educated. In 1654, tired
of " splendid slavery," she abdicated, became
a Catholic, and went to Rome. Her ex-
travagancies have left the impression that
she was at times insane.
204 Charles XIL (1682-1718) — King of
Sweden, was a descendant of the sister of
Gustavus Adolphus. On becoming king in
1697 he was at once opposed by Denmark,
Russia, and Poland ; but a sudden attack
on Copenhagen forced the Danes to make
peace ; the Russians were overthrown at
Narva, and by a succession of victories he
succeeded in dethroning the king of Poland
(1706). A subsequent invasion of Russia, his
great antagonist, resulted in the destruction
of his array at Pultowa (1709). Fleeing to
Turkey, he remained there five years, and
when Sweden was attacked by Russia,
Prussia, Denmark, and Austria, he returned
and agreed to peace. His last exploit was
an attack on Norway, where he was killed
at the siege of Frederickshald. His abilities
were great ; but his obstinacy, bordering on
insani* , gained for him the name of " Mad-
man of the North."
EX PL A NA TORY NOTES.
533
Character of Cromwell.
6-g. Others . . . come— In the church, in
the army, in tlie civil servico, oltic-e was
conf'ened from litness, not by purcli.ise or
influence institutions and practicos wcro
tried by their merits, and aboiisluxi if found
wantinR, no matter of how long standin;,'
they were ; the spirit of the constitution
was adhered to, while common-sense aiid
justice ruled instead of custom.
12. Qarendon — Edward Hyde, Earl cl
Clarendon (1608-1O74), was the son of a
private gentleman, lie accompanied Prince
Charles in his exile on the continent. During
his exile he wrote the History of the Great
Rebellion. See Green's History of England.
17-18. let . . . revolution — The opening
sentence of this lecture.
21-23. It was .... law — See Green's
History of England, Chap. VIII., sec. 10.
23-30. but there . . . arras— See Green's
History of Englaiul, Chap. IX., sec. 3.
36. Ludlow— An English gentleman who
joined the Parliamentary army in the Civil
War, ultimately becoming a general. In
principle he was republican, and as such
was opposed to Cromwell. On the death of
the latter, Ludlow trieil to restore the Com-
monwealth, and on the Restoration fled to
the continent. He died in Switzerland,
iGy3, leaving three volumes of " Memoirs."
36. Whitelocke (1605-1C7G)— .^n English
gentleman, prominent from 1G40 to 1C60, as a
member of the Long Parliament. He was
chairman ot the commit loe on Strafford's
Impeachment. Though he took no part in
military affairs, he served in other capaci-
ties, under both the Commonwealth and the
Protectorate. Cromwell, he thought, did not
reward him according to his merits. On his
death he left an account of the important
matters in which he had taken part.
38-40. Through . . . truth !— See Milton's
Sonnet to Cromwell, begiuninsj:
"Cromwell, our chief of men, who through
a cloud
Not '^f IV ^r only, but detractions rude,
Gui'i'.ii by faith and matchless fortitude, |
To p".".ce and truth thy glorious way hast i
ploughed." I
43. Fairfax (1611-1671)— The son of Fer-
dinanil, l,ord l'"airfa.\, had served .is a volun-
teer in Holland before joining the army of
the Parli.iment in the Civil War. As cavalry
general under his father, who commanded
in the North, ho highly distinguished him-
self, so th.it on the retirement of Essex ho
was made lieut.-t^cMoral of the Parliamentary
forces, Cromwell's influence ovir him was
very great. Having refused, in 1^50, to
march against his fellow-Presbyterians, the
Scotch, he resigned his command, and
retired into priwile life. He warmly cn-
uporatcd with Monk in bringing about ilu;
restoration of Cliarles II. altur the deposi-
tion of Richard Cromwell.
43^ Mrs. Hutchinson— (1620-1659) — Wife
of Col. Hutchinson, a soldier in the service
of the ParliauKMit, wrote " Memoirs " of her
husband. It was published in i8<j6, and is
said to be one of the finest biographies in
the language.
62-G4. not like . . , statecraft— As Na-
poleon l.iy unconscious, on his death-bed,
the words " head of the army " escaped his
lips.
66. The
i. 8.
ways— See Epistle of James,
67-G8. his course . . . nature — Crom-
well's whole career shows his earnest wish
to have the "state of the country settled."
It was this desire to have a state of con-
fusion reduced to settled order, that led him
into so many uncoustitution.d acts; when
Parliament refused, or was unable, he took
it upon himself to carry out his wishes. See
Green's History of England, and Carlyle's
Life and Letters ofCromiotll.
102, Of . . . devotee— The reference is to
Heroes and Hero Worship, a book by Car-
lyle. See " Carlyle."
106. Timour, or Tamarlane (1336-1405)—
The great Tartar contpieror, who extended
his conquests west to Moscow, south to the
Ti^^ris, east to the G.mges, and then over all
western Asia, including Asia Minor. He
was on his way to the conquest of China
when he died. His empire fell to pieces
■shortly .iftcr his death,
mT.'
Ii . M
\r, \
I I
534
^EXPLANATORY NOTES.
io6. Attila — In A.D. 43+ Attila bocainu kiut,'
of thu Huns, a race allied to the Turks. His
domain was the region to the north of Asia
and Europe. In a short time his conquests
extended froin China to Gaul (France), and
the Roman emperor was compelled to pay
him tribute ; but his defeat at Chalons in
Gaul (451) saved western Europe. He died
in 453. His followers w<>re rettiarkable for
their barbarity: they spared neither age
nor sex, and destroyed all the cities they
captured. Attila himself was called the
" Scourge of God."
107-108. The author refers to the American
War of Sucessiou.
READE.
Madeleine de Verchcres.
vuth-de-lanif de vare-shar^.
This poem belongs to the ballad class. As arranged here, the measure is Sax, with
one syllable wanting (catalectic) ; by making the first foot of the 7th line a Dactyl, and the
first of the 8th an .Vmphibrach, these lines conform to the prevailing measure. The
stanzas consist of four lines (quatrain), rhyming in couplets. The caesura in most of the
lines is strongly marked: hence each couplet is often printed as a quatrain, the 1st and
3rd lines being 4.1.*-, and the 2nd and 4th ^ax catalectic. This poem is an imitation of
Tennyson's Locksley Hall.
3. They . . . die — The hostility of the
Iroquois (see note under " McGee," 1. 333)
was directed against the Christian Algon-
quin Indians, near Montreal, as well as
against the French. Towards the latter the
feeling had been aroused by Champlain's
expedition. See " Parkman."
6. Grecian . . , divine — "Divine" was
employed by the Greeks to indicate a high
degree of perfection.
10. Frontenac— See Jeffers' Prim, of Can.
History, Chap, III., sec. 12.
20. Maiden, fly I— A poet often drops the
narrative style, and takes, as it were, a per-
sonal part in the events he is describing,
45. The close repetition of a word in differ-
ent senses should be avoided.
Agricola,
The measure is ^xti, blank verse. The poem belongs to the Elegiac class. Julius
Agricola (a.d. 37-93) took an active part in Roman affairs, especially in the government of
the provinces. He was governor of Britain for seven years, and endeavored to intro.
duce among the inhabitants the civilization and language of Rome (see Thompson's
or Green's History of England).
Tacitus — This historian was born a.d.
61, but the date of his death is uncertain.
He held several high offices under the em-
perors. His chief extant works are Life of
Agricola; Histories— a. great part of which
is lost; Annals; Germany — an account of the
customs and people of Germany. T;jcitus
lived in the most affectionate intercourse
with his father-in-law, Agricola.
If.
survive — Agricola and Taci-
tus were not Christians, but the Romans
believed in a place of future reward and
punishment. Hades, the place of the de-
parted, contained Tai tarus, the fearful abode
of the wicked ; and lilysium, or the Elysian
Fields, the abode of the good,
10-13. We . . . self—" If we act as thou
didst, thy spirit will be with us always ; only
t!iy bodily prr-irnro v,-i!! ho a memory, the
rest will be ever present,"
EXPLANA TOR Y NO TES.
535
McGEE.
The Union of the Provinces.
ers to the American
i8. lost unity — The numerous Central
Ainericau States were formerly a colony of
Spain.
19. new Emperor — Disagreements with
Mexico led the French emperor, Louis Na-
poleon, in 1862, to interfere in the internal
affairs of that country. In the followins;
year an assembly of leading Mexicans de-
cided to establish a monarchy, and offered
the crown to the Austrian Archduke Maxi-
milian. He accepted it, and with the assist-
ance of a French army, set about reducing
the various States to order and submission.
The hostile attitude of the United States,
however, compelled the withdrawal of the
French troops, and Maximilian, refusing to
accompany them, shortly afterwards fell into
the hands of the Mexican army, and was
shot, July 19, iSfj;. (See note on " Monroe
Doctrine," under "Wolfe and Old Quebec,"
11. 181-184.)
20-23. On the election, in i860, of Abraham
Lincoln as President of the United States,
South Carolina withdrew from the Union,
and was followed by the other Southern
States; all united in a confederacy, with
Jefferson Davis as President. War fol-
lowed, in consequence of the determination
of the North to restore the old Union. After
a conflict of four years, from April, 1861, to
March, 1865, the Confederacy was overcome.
Note the date of McGee's speech,
30. seats in Congress — The United States
cabinet ministers, unlike those of Canada,
have not seats in either branch of the legis-
lature. The President is elected for the term
of four years. See sketch appended of the
Canadian Coustitution.
31-35. For a long time Mexico has been
subject to civil wars ; the election of one
leader to the presidency being the signal
for armed rebellion on the part of his rivals.
This state of confusion was one of the ex-
cused for the occupation of the country by
the French. (See note on 1. ig.)
40. Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865), a native
of Kentucky, but afterwards a resident of
Illinois, h.id a rough experience in early life ;
but his firm will and natur.il ability overcame
•ill diffiuUies, and soon after entering public
life, in iHj::, he began to take a le.uling p.ut
in the political affairs of his adopted St.ite,
of whose legislature he was a member.
Meanwhile his popularity spread beyond
Illinois : he received the nomination for
President, of the Republican party at the
Chicago convention in May, 1H60, and was
elected to the office in November. In the
war with the South that followed, it was
largely owing to his energy and determina-
tion that the North triumphed. He was re-
elected in November, 1864, and assassinated
on April 14 of the following year.
40. Jefferson Davis (1808) was the Presi-
dent of the Confederate States. He had
always t.iken an active part in politics, espe-
cially in those of the general government.
In 1853 he became Secretary of War, and was
the most influential man in the cabinet. On
retiring from office, Mr. Davis entered the
Senate, remaining there until the secession
of his State, Mississippi, from the Union.
As President of the Confederacy, he showed
military skill as well as administrative ca-
pacity. At the close of the war he was taken
prisoner, and confined for two years. Since
then he has retired into private life.
54-55. Unlike .... raise — Before their
union the various States of the United States
were independent ; on uniting, each gave up
some of its powers to the central government.
The question then arose, where the supreme
or sovereign power lay ; the Democratic
party, before the war at least, said it lay in
the various States ; their opponents said it
was in the central government : the Demo-
cratic party maintained that any State had a
right to secede from the Union ; this was
denied by the others. The secession of
the Southern States from the Union was
the practical carrying out of the Democratic
doctrine; the result of the war has settled
tile question of sovereignty.
\)l
,1"
JM
fi
536
EXPLA NA TOR V A'O TES.
909'- Some .... new— Such as the es-
tablishnieul of Local Legislatures, with con-
trol of local affairs,
98-101. by the concurrence . . . plan— If
a change in the original constitution is de-
sired, a bill to that effect must pass the Local
Legislatures and the Parliament of Canada,
and receive the assent of the Imperial Gov-
ernment.
105-iofi. Alluding to the numerous "con-
stitutions" given to f ranee between i7Sy
and 1804.
128-130. the elder Adams .... Davila—
The elder Adams was John Adams, the se-
cond President of the United States, called
the elder, to distinguish him from John
Quincy Adams, his son, who was the sixth
President. The elder Adams distinguished
himself as a jurist both before and after the
Revolution. He i etired from politics to his
estate of Quincy, near Boston, on being
beaten in 1801, v/hen he was a candidate a
second time for the Presidential chair. Da-
vila, a celebrated Italian historian (1576-
1631), was born at Padua. When seven years
of age he was taken to France for his educa-
tion. At first he entered the service of
France, under Henry IV. This he after-
wards exchanged for that of Venice. His
great work is The History of the Civil War
in France: this comprehends the eventful
period from the death of Henry II. (1559) to
the peace of Vervins (1598).
131-135- In the United States the chief
magistrate is elected, takes an active part in
the government, and uses his power of veto.
The cabinet ministers have not seats i n either
branch ofthelegislature; they are responsible
only to the President, but are not responsible
''or his acts ; the ministry may be at variance
with the dominant party in the Lower House.
The Senate is elective. The powers of the
Central government are enumerated ; those
of the State governments, reserved.
the descendants of Indians and Spaniards,
or other mixed races
155 • kingdom of Canada— This was the
name at first proposed to be given to the
new Confederation.
162-16+. We . , lost— Such as the nomi-
native Uppur House; it was elective for a
time previous to Confederation.
170-171. Next . . . World— In the United
States every man of the age of twenty-one,
or upwards, has a vote. For qualification of
Cauiidian voters, see sketch appended of the
C^.nadian Constitufion.
177' conservative— Because it represents
property more than the Connnons does.
" Property is conservative."
185. spoils principle — In Canada, on a
change of government, only the heads of de-
partments vacate office ; in the United States,
on a similar occurrence, every person in gov-
ernment employ is liable to dismissal. "To
the victors belong the spoils."
198-201. The Federal .... languages-
It prevents the people of a larger state or
province from interfering in the local affairs
or local peculiarities of a smaller one.
214, special representative — Mr. (now
Sir) A. T. Gait.
222-223. educational rights— The Consti-
tution secures to the individual provinces
thos*> educational and religious privileges
en ed by them previous to entering the
Union.
142-144. We . , organizations— A fede-
ral union leaves local affairs to the control
of local governments j a legislative union
abolishes local governments, and gives full
control in all matters to one ruling body.
150-152. A large proportion of tlio inhabit-
ants of Mexico are enfranchised Indians, or
258-261. weoiFer . . . tons!— In the year
ending 30th June, 1881, the total exports of
the Dominion v;ere $98,290,903; and the
imports $105,330,840. The total lake and sea
tonnage was 1,311,218 tons.
280-281, a character .... people— After
their conquest of Britain the Enghsh seem
to have lost their maritime character, and
caimot be said to have recovered it till the
days of Queen Elizabeth.
297-300. All . . . neighbors— At this time
Rome was the mistress of the known world ;
every other nation had been subdued ; and
all countries with the exception of Greece
were regarded as barbarian, and so had
nothing worthy of imitation or comparison.
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
537'
ns and Spaniards,
tive — Mr. (now
300. Cicero-Tliu cc'i^br.Utd Kom.m ora-
tor (B.C. 106-4J) was rciuai kalilf, .ih a public
man, for his pusillanimity and political ter-
t;ivcrsation.
302. Tacitus -The rufc-reiicc here is pro-
bably to tlie Gennania of Tacitus, wbicli by
some is regarded as a satire on Rome couched
in the guise of an innocent ethnological trea-
tise. See note under " Agricola," in selec-
tion from John Rcade. This reference of
the author's cannot be considered a VJry
liappy one. It is not pointedly true, and was,
at any rate, beyond the appreciation of liis
hearers,
332 Six Nations — This confederacy,
which ori',inally occupied much of central
and western New York, consisted at first of
five nations— the Moliawks, Oneidas, Onon-
dagas, Cayugas, and Senecas; these were
afterwards joined by the Tuscaroras. In
general tliey sided svitli the English against
the French, but asserted their independence
of action ; duving the Revolution they took
part against die colonists. They liave now,
for the most part, emigrated to other portions
of the country ; the Mohawks and Tusca-
roras at present reside on a reservation near
Brantford.
334. Brant— Joseph Brant, or Tliayenda-
nega (1742-1807), was a chief of the Mohawks.
He early attracted the attention of Sir Wil-
liam Johnson, the English Indian agent, who
sent him to school in Connecticut. During
the Revolution he actively supported the
English, and, notwilhstaudiag assertions to
the contrniy, exerted his iiiflueuci! on all
occasions to check needless iruelly. At the
close of the war he and his tribe came to
Canada, the latter settling along the Grand
River, near the present town of Uraiittord.
The rest of his life was passed in promoting
the welfare of liis people, liiaiit tlied at Bur-
lington, where he had been living since 1800,
having received from government a largo
tract of land in that neighborhood.
334. Pontiac (1720-176.J) — A cliief of the
Ottawa tribe, .md a'.firm ally of the French.
On the overthrow of the French in .Vmcrica,
lie formed a confederacy of Indians for tho
purpose of driving the English east of tho
Alleghanies. Having suffered defeat after
capturing a number of English posts, ho
made a second attempt to arouse the In-
dians farther west ; but failing in this, he
shortly afterwards made peace, Pontiac w as
murdered near the site of the present city of
St. Louis.
335. Tecumseth— The great chief of the
Shawnees in Ohio, For some time previous
to 181 1 he had been maturing a plan for
driving the whites from America, through
the instrumentality of a confederacy of all
the Western Indians. He showed great skill
in all his undertakings ; but a premature en-
gagement with the United States troops at
Tippecanoe, brought on in his abnenee,
broke up his confederacy. He joined the
English m the W.ir of i8ia, and was as dis-
tinguished for his upriihtness and humanity
as for his valor and deiermination. He was
killed at the attle of the Thames, in 1S13.
HALIBURT-ON.
Metaphysics.
This selection satirizes in a mild and humorous fashion metaphysicians and meta-
physical studies, and at the same time exhibits, by an apt and truthful illustration, the
difficulty experienced by philosophers in endeavoring to explain their theories to untrained
minds. Metaphysical themes are proverbially difficult to grasp, even by minds accus-
tomed to close and accurate thinking: what then could be expected of Uncle Tim and his
friends? From beginning to end. Doctor Sobersides fails to cast even a gleam of light
upon his train of tliought ; and nothing could be more natural than the persistent obtuse-
ness of his hearers. Whilst a semblance of truth and reality characterizes the Doctor's
teaching, his representation and explanation of the views of metaphysicians partake
strongly ot caricature. This however but adds to the humor of th.e dialogue.
53^
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
I. whatever is, is right— That is, what-
ever (jxists is right. Tliis formula briefly
expresses the views of a class of think-
ers called " Optimists." An Optimist con-
tends that whatever exists or occurs is the
best possible— that at any given time tlie
state of the world cannot be improved.
Those who take the opposite view arc
called "Pessimists." There is also a play
upon the word is, which, in the language of
metaphysicians, expresses actual, indepen-
dent, .-uid objective existence — tliat is, an
existence apart from our sensations and
thoughts.
3. Master Parson is really Master Par-
son— Here Ilaliburton insinuates that meta-
physicians deny the objective independent
existence of material things. (See preceding
note.) He would represent a metaphysician
as saying that appurcntly \faster Parson
exists, but really he does not.
9. sheer nobodies -A pun on the word
"no-body." As metaphysicians deny the
existence of matter, they must necessarily
deny that they enjoy a bodily existence.
Haliburton here, as throughout the selec-
tion, endeavors to burlesque and turn into
ridicule the views of metaphysicians like
Berkeley and Hume, who held that ma-
terial objects, such as horses, houses, etc., I
have no independent existence apart from
the mind perceiving them; that what wo
call color, figure, etc., are not in bodies, but
are sensations in our minds. But Berkeley
did not deny the existence of so-called ma-
terial objects— he simply denied that they
exist a^ irt from our sensations.
who flourished during the Middle Ages. A
Nominalist held ttiat general ideas, notions,
or conceptions have no separate existence
apart from individual objects. A Realist
held that such conceptions have a separate
existence, and are not mere products of the
mind. " Free-will au<l Necessity " are terms
used in connection witlj discussions on the
nature of the Will. The controversy has
found its way into the theological arena,
the ground of contention being man's ac-
countability for his actions.
29. could not syllogize — That is, could
not reason according to tlio rules of logic.
3S. Metaphysics is the science of ab-
straction— Rather the science of the first
principles of all knowledge. " Abstraction "
is a logical term denoting that operation of
the mind by which wo separate the qualities
common to all individuals of a group from
those peculiar to each individual. For in-
stance, the notion of a " circle" is the result
of abstraction, as we can reason about circles
without regard to any particular circle.
11-12. some folks were really some folks
—A play again upon the technical meaning
of the word really, as well as an allusion to
the supposed dogmatism and conceitedness
of metaphysicians.
16-17. entities and quiddities, nominalism
and realism, free-will and necessity—" En-
tities" are tilings which have an indepen-
dent existence, such as the soul of man,
which is believed to exist independent of
the body. A " quiddity " is that which makes
a thing what it is, as distinguished from
other things, "Nominalism and Realism"
are names expressive of views held by
what are called Scholastic Philosophers,
80. stands upon nothing, etc. -Notice
the play upon the word " stands."
99- principle of whirligigs — Descartes
theory of vortices is here referred to. A
I "vortex," in the Cartesian system of philoso-
phy, is a mass of subtle particles— fluid or
ether — revolving rapidly round an axis.
On the hypothesis of such vortices he ex-
plained to his own satisfaction the forma-
tion of the universe and the motion ot
planetary bodies. It is scarcely correct I0
say that Descartes explained perception ol
external objects on the "principle of whirli-
gigs."
115. Doubt is the beginning of wisdom-
Descartes laid the foundation of modern
metaphysics, and began with doubting every-
thing that could admit of a doubt until he
arrived at something that it was not possible
to doubt— this he took for granted. What
Descartes could not doubt was his own con-
scious existence— hence his famous prin-
ciple, "Cogito, ergo sum," which may be
rendered, " I think, therefore I exist."
137-13S. spirituality and corporeality-
Some systems of metaphysics strongly em-
phasize the distinction between mind and
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
539
body— between tho spiritual, or thinkinfi
part of a man, and the material botly, by
moans of which tlic spirit acts. Recent
metaphysicians mclinc towards an oblitera-
tion of the distiuttiou between mind anil
matter.
144. Notice the play upon " spiritual" and
"corporeal" in Malachi's remarks.
159. an abstraction— As an abstraction
is but a conception of a bundle of qualities
common to a «roup of thiui^s, it cannot have
any of the characteristics of individual ob-
jects actually existin;?, such as smell, taste,
color, etc. Tho Doctor's explanations and
illustrations of abstractious are sufficiently
grotesque; and it is no wonder that Uncle
Tim and Aunt Judy felt rather disgusted
with the uselessness and out-of-the-way na-
ture of an abstraction.
:88. eidolon— <irf-o'-'<»«— An imane, a re-
semblance.
189. fantastical -nelonnin« to the fancy,
but here used in the sense of a production
of the imat^ination.
192. positive qualities are those which a
ihint; has: "Negative" qualities are those
which a thinu has not. "Accidental" pro-
perties are tho qualities peculiar to iii.li-
viduals of a group, as <lislii\'4uished from
those q ;alities which are ioinmon to the
group.
HEAVYSEGE.
The Dark Huntsman.
The Dark Huntsman is an ingenious adaptation of the German legond of tho Wild
Huntsman, who, on account of his impiety and reckless cruelty in the inirsuit of game,
was condemned to be hunted forever by dogs of Hell-in the daytime, mulerground ; n|
the night, through the air. The Wild Huntsman's presence was her.ildcd by storm and
upro.ir, and woe to the man who saw and hailed him I Sir Walter Scott h.is given a
spirited English rendering of a German poem embodying the legend of the Wild Hunts-
man. The Dark Huntsm.an is Death ; the " hunger hounds " are his ministers.
The measure in the long lines is generally xa, followed by a.v.va; in the short ones it
is xa, followed by xxa and a hypermetric syllabic, except where there is no double rhyme ;
some of the short lines, such as 21 and 22, may be taken as 2xax. If, however, we scan
continuously two short lines and the following long one, no irregularity will occur. Each
stanza, with one exception, opens with a rhyming couplet ; elsewhere the author indulges
his fancy. For ononiatopoetic purposes there are but two rhymes in the second stanza ;
and in the third, all the long lines have the same rhyme.
11. sphere— According to an ancient be-
lief the earth was the centre of the universe,
and the moon, sun, and other pLanots were
set in hollow spheres, each of which in re-
volving carried the planet with it ; the stars
were all in one separate sphere.
12. Symbolical of the swift movement and
certainty of death.
13. Fire burns most brightly in frosty
weather.
36. wont^ - , . . fill— This is a mere con-
ceit—a rt ion of the word wit>- a partial
personification, to emphasize the ..-oa.
44. numbers— Verse: because of the h»w-
bering of the feet in a line.
50. miserere— miz-er-e'-re — The Latin ver-
sion of the 51st Psalm begins with the word
misenye (have mercy). It is one of the
"penitential" psalms.
54. Hades — /i«'-(i«s— In Greek Mythol-
ogy, the abode of disembodied spirits.
6,t. crescent— According to old stories the
pow.!rs of evil were most active during the
wane of the moon.
" A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was
haunted
By wouiaii wailing for her deraon-lovcr."
I CoLEKiDGE, Kublu Khan.
11
k
,,™,.4iB"'
54©
EXPLANATORY NOTl-H.
kMm
:,li
!i:^^
r>7. tired twUlght-"Tirc.l" by anticipa-
»'on. (Sec u, IV., J,.) The echoes were so
continuous that they tired the twih«hf.
08-138. The whole of this passage is a
h.«hly wrought vusiouofthcol.l belief that
storms, especially of a terrible an.l .lesfruc-
tjve cliaracter, were the work of demons of
the air. This is, prob.ibly, a remnant of the
P.iKan linKlish worship of the god Thor or
riuinder. whoso hammer hiring thunder
storms was hear.l smiting tl:. Toes of gods
ami men. See Burns' Tarn O'Shantcr for
the same idea.
82. maelstroom- Literally, mnl-raco, or
<">H-stream; an expanse of water L.tweeii
two of the Loffoden Islands, render,.! dan-
gerous to vessels during hi,;h tides or
storms by the numerous and rapid cross
currents then existing; at other times it is
perfectly safe even for open boats. The
stories about the existence of a terrible
I whirlpool and the liorrors connected there
with are mere fabrications.
90, margent-Tlie same as "margin •
rarely used.
97. niKhtmare-Tho latter part of this
I wonl is the Anglo-Saxon mara, a night-
I horror, or nightmare; it is quite a different
word from mere, the feminine of mearh a
horse. '
iz\. Cerberus-In Greek Mythology, the
111. ee-headed dog guarding the entrance to
Hades.
127- Gehenna-" The ])lace of burning."
128. Scylla-In Creek .Mythology a se,v
■noi.ster. h.df wom.m, half fish, begirt with
howhng dogs, aiKl dwelling under a rock OE
the Italian side of the Straits of .Messina.
She devoured all sailors that came withio
her . each.
^11
k
Ml
i lii
IS, '
Saul.
PART I.
endin,); see 11. 4, :o, „. ,, etc hi t",;! "", """^"^'^"•-» ^^''^l^ie (called a jcnnnine
require to be shir,;! ^ve to ;ec re t " ' o," ''"' °^ ' '"°'- 0'=<=--"ally syllables
becomes ..emissVy^ "fane °n;:r";a:t„^^^^^^
by the writings of Shakespeare. ' ''"'' ^^^^ '^ inspired
1-2. The word "Zepho" of Zaph'sinterro-
gation is needed to complete the line in
^epho's speech. Such division of a line
between two or more speakers is common
in dramatic poetry.
8- spirit, so-This monosyllablic ending
with a pause preceding is more characteris-
tic of Shakespeare's later, than of his earlier
works. '
16. And . . . heaven - Referring to tlio
expulsion of the rebel angels from heaven
See 3 Peter ii., 4; J„de vi.; also 7^,.ra,/u.
Lost, Books I. and VI.
17. vein-" Humor," "state of mind."
_ 20. The slurring of ,„ before a consonant
IS common in Elizabethan writers.
25. Compare Gray's Elegy, 1. loi.
27. An Alexandrine line-6A:fl; occurring
occasionally in Shakespeare. Such lines
may be scanned with ^xa by slurring two
syllables.
29. The Lelief that toaus feed on poisonous
substaaces and exude poison from their
skin ha-, no foundation in fact ; it arose pro-
bably from the forbidding appearance of the
ammal. Shakespeare and Milton both utilize
tins vulgar belief, which is widespread and
oflong s^tanding. The sp vn of toads, like
tnat of frogs, is deposited in wafer • the
inimature young of both being known as
tadpoles.
35. Sometimes a hypermetric or extra syl-
labia occurs before the c.xsura as wel! u.s at
the end of the line. Here the final syllable
of alcove " and •■ bower " is hypermetric.
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
54 T
samo as " margin •
36-38. \V!»li this feature of M.il/.ili'i char-
acter coiri,)are I'iu'i<'s esciiwulo in Shako-
spcare's Muhummcr-Nit^hl'i D;cam, Act
!I., sccni; I. (first part).
37. Pilgrir.i . . , Idol— "An idol drawing
crowds of l)il^;rilns." Tin; rnmhlnalion Is
quite Shakspearian iti character. Tlie first
two fool are almost spondaic (aa) ; slow, la-
liorc'd movcn.unt b<;in>j rt!i)ri!senl< d tliinhy.
30
. Tholast (cot is (i.r-^"si;airl' for'iii."
43. Hosidcs the slurrint! hero in the sccoml
foot, ihc li 4 foot is III, roiuuTlinU closely
this lino with thf oru foUowinj;.
PART II.
pl.'ico of burning."
4.7. Our sympathy for the tortured kinn is
aroused by this reference to .t sleeping
ihild.
g. "My desire to escape from slavery is
so great that I am desperate and would do
anything to t;et free." Hero at least M.ilzah
is an imitation of Shakospearo's Ariel. Sec
The Tempest, Acts I. and V.
15. Miike the first foot monosyllabic, and
the second xxa; so also '. 18.
21. The time of this line is completed by
the action of Malzah in breathing 01 Saul.
26. swept and dispersed are verbs, not
participles.
30-31. These are names of Saul's children.
In 1. 31 " Gone ! " constitutes the third foot—
the pause following takes the place of the
other syllable.
35. Carmel "A mo\mtaiii on the coast of
I'.ilestinc.
41. trample— Nowhere is the mad thirst
(if Saul better indic.ited tli.in by this worn,
44-55. T le influence of Shakespeare is
(•vidcut ill this passage. See Machclh, Act
III., scene IV.
56-61. Hero the influence of Milton is
notice.ible. See opening of /'(i>.i(//sc Lost.
56. Gilead~.\ mountain east of the Jor-
dan and directly north of the Dead Se...
5.S. Hinnom -A deep valley on the south
side of Jerusalem.
PART III.
The measure is 4.vrt; the verse is in rhyming couplets.
r.x
3. Hath . . stream — One who has seen
the sun sinking below the horizon across a
body of water, will appreciate i'-.e beauty
of this figure. According to the belief of the
old Greeks the earth consisted of a plain,
having the Mediterranean for its centre, and
surounded by the River Oceanus.
II. Compare this with 1. iC, Part I., and
see note thereon.
13. boon — A rather uncommon use of this
noun.
ig. night-argent— /I >'?f«'«»> is the Latin
word for silver.
DAWSON.
The Laurentian Rocks.
70. Darwinian . . . Evolution— See note
on 11. 54-55, Introductory to " Wolfe and Old
Quebec."
For outline of Geology, See Gcikie's Primer
on that Science.
2. beds— A bed or stratum (pi. strata) is a
layer of homogeneous rock of similar matc-
ri.il ; it may be of any thickness.
.}. Azoic — a'-:a' ic — From the Greek a,
without, and zo'-c, life.
i.'l
542
I'.XPLA SA TOR Y NO TES.
imili :. i
|! :■
K'''X
4 M containing:— Sro Abbott's How to
/'line, section 407.
6. Eozoic -f'-o-so'-ic — Vrom tho Greek
e'-os, dawn, and zo'-c, life.
8. Sir William Logan (179H-1H7J)— This
indefaliKablo Cmaili.iu t;coloKi^t was born
iti Montreal, and cdncatcd in lOdinburnh.
For ten years ho was manager of a mining
company in Wales, after which, in i8.(i, he
was appointed chief of tlio GcoloKical Sur-
vey of Canada. For his eminent services in
this capacity ho was knighted in 1836. Up
died in Wales.
I ). thi-Dwn up— This was caused by sub-
terranean volcanic action,
15. have .... waters — Caused by the
gradual subsidi'iirn of tho land, as may be
seen on the coast of CrecnIanddurinH recent
times, where in some places the ruins of tho
houscsoftheraJvinissionariesaredistinctly
visible many (cot beneath flic water.
16-17. have .... them— When land that
has sunk beneath the seals exposed to waves
and strong currents, everythin^' but th(- most
comp.ict material will be washed away and
deposited elsewhere. The same effect is
produced by the action of rivers on land
above water; mountains are denuded by
rains and torrents.
31. Newfoundland — ;re«//;i/a)irf" is the
only pronunciation heard in the Maritime
Provinces.
34- age— An U. mense period in the history |
of the formation of the earth, character' ( ' ;
by distinctive features— such as the A^oic
and the Eozoic ages mentioned in the text.
40. restore— That is, " to reproduce."
41. " Physical geographers have taught us
that the great continents, whether we regard
their coasts or their mountain chains, are
built up in lines, which run north-east and
south. -vest and north-west and south-east ;
ano' i.. js also observed that these lines are
great circles of the earth, tangent to the
Polar circle."— Z)ati'so».
46. James D, Dana (i8i3-i882)-An emi-
nent American scientist and author. Profes-
sor of N.itijral History .ind Geology in Y.ilc
College, Hartford.
49. meetlngr . . . lakei-Tho Laurentian
belt sends a branch terminating wil'i ^U^.
Adirond.icks, .icross tho St. Lawrcn':c b, I )w
KfUHslon, the "Tliousan.l IsUmds" .e . ,g.
ing to that formation. It wi'! be .b.erv 1
>" the diagram (p.,go 105), (),,( thi: lightly
shaded portion represent', thr .rcc- conti-
nent of NorUi America; tho d.uk, is tho
present w.iter- urfacc
59-O0. Otherwise tiu, ,0 rocks would also
be " crumpled and folded."
8i-8a. The "days" of the Creation, men-
Honed in Genesis, are now universally ro-
garded as geological ages.
85-87. but ... . attraction-Tho English
astronomer Ad.uus, in 1841, attributed to the
attraction of an undiscovered pl.met irregu-
larities, which h.id long been noticed in tho
niotton of the pl.niet Ui.inus. Tho result of
his and other investigations was tho dis-
covcry of tlie planet Neptune.
89. Sterry Hunt (.825-)-An eminent
scientist. From 1847 to 1872 ho was chemist
an<i mineralogist to the Geographical Sur-
voy of Canada. His contributions to scien-
lific res(.irch have been numerous and
valuable. Subsequently ho filled the chair
of Geology in the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology, but he is again a resident of
Montreal.
0'.-93. organic, organlsms-An organ is a
part or member of an organism or living
, body or set of organs. Animals and plants
I :'i. , th'. efore, organi'Qis.
O-' m- phite-Also called plumbago, and
ulack-lead." though containing no lead.
106-107. one . . . fossil-That is. "having
its peculiarities clearly distinguishable."
108. Eozoon Canadense-«-o.w'-o« Cai'o-
defuse,
109. low forms -Simple, as opposed to
complex organisms.
113. the modern seas-Seas of thepresent
as opposed to those of form.^r geological
periods.
1 17. Foraminifera —for-am-in.i'f-er.a — ..
Latin plural form, meaning "having pores."
i5a-iii. Iron is so plentiful in the crust of
the earth, that naarly all sands and clays
i:XPLAXAT()RY A'PTES.
543
—e-o-to'-on Cana-
», as opposed to
.vlicn first produced, on iho incllins of rock,
aro »laiiu-il with it. VVluui iho inciting, t.ikos
y\,\co ill lliu iiir tlu; iron is always in the form
(if rust or iioroxido of iron. Orn.mic in.iitfr
(■oniinK in cont.Kt with this oxide, l.ikos
nxjurn (roTn it, and loducos llio peroxidi: to
a lower oxide, tin; protoxide, turnint; tlie
carbon o( the organic matter into rarbonic
arid. It is assumed, ilierefore, that whore
there is a lar^o amount of iron ore, tlieie has
been a l.lr^!c amount of or>;.inic. m.ittcr.
i88, dredgo— This is a kln<l of baK fur-
nished with iron jaws, for the purpose of
dratj'gini; .iloiin the bottom of the oce.in and
bringing; to the sinface anytliin^' tb.it ni.iy
como in its way. It has been used in water
nearly fivo miles deep.
196. swarmed — " Hrouiiht forih abun !
dantly" is the language of the Authorized I
Version of the Bible.
205. This opinion is now held by few
naturalists.
221. SirWyville Thompson (died 1H82,—
An I'liiineiil n.ilur.ilisi, who iiccompanied
H. M. S. C7i(i//i'iA,'iT on tlie expedition for
the exploration of the beds of the Atl.uitic
and Pacific ; he is best known by liis Report
of the rcs\ilts of this expedition.
■ 227. residual carbon — The carbon left
after chemical action has taken place. " The
animal life in the sea was no: sutficient to
consume and assiiiilato the vegetable mat-
ter ; the remainder, or residue, appears in the
strata in the form of carbon."
233. graphitic limestones — Limestones
containing graphite.
240-241. See Tsalm CIV., 29.
261. Sir Roderick Murchison (i79i-i'!7i)
—An eminent geographer and geologist. He
discovered and defined the great Silurian
system of rocks, and made important re-
searches in reference to other systems. He
explored the mountain system Europe
and Ausiialia, conducted, in 1841'. oologi-
cal survey of Russia, and, in 1844, lour years
before gold was worked in Australia, an-
nounced that gold would be found there,
|ia~ing hi'; '-.."iir} r.n the ^imibirity of the Aup.
tralian mountains to the Urals. Murchison
is th« author of several works on Geology,
ar.i. Adam Sedrwick, LL D.(i7f<5-'^'
\ I'elobi ltd >;ii(ilogist, the author (it »i'V r.il
works on (. ology. Ilo traversed Scotland
in the pursuit of bin favorito nclcncr, and
in 1821J visited several parts of Kuirop*', in
couHMuy with Mini bison, with whoso 01 u-
ioHH, however, hu did not always agtco.
261. James H»ll tiHii— ) A disti
guisheil .\iiu I II .111 geologist and 1 vtnBontol.
gist. He lu.idc .1 series of geolo^: d explm
ations in Now York St.»io, and on tiecoiiiing
St.ito I'alajonlologist, prepared a number ol
voluiiu in connection with his Department.
He has ilao written largely on Gec.ogy.
i(>i Isarrande(Jo.ichini)—.\ distinguished
]:iUA)p(M; I'.ileontologist, and author ;>f an
elaboratr work on the Fossil Cephalopoils
of HoluMi I, rontributed to the " Systimo
Sibirien a Centre do la llohCuie "
263. Silurian— A vast wide-sproa.d system
of rocks, tn which our fossilifcrou'^ Niagara
limestone bi nngs. No remainsof 'lants or
of land aiiiiii b.ive been found ir it, or of
any vertebr.i marine aiiiiu.ils. Tlu^ name
was given b\ Murchison, because ho first
studied the vstem in South Wales, the
hoiiieof theS ureS|an ancient Uritish tribe.
263. Cambri.tu -The rocks comprising the
oldest part of i e lower <livision of the Silu-
rian system, ni.d at one time supposed to
contain ihe ear est traces of organic life.
The name was tven by Sedgwick, on ac-
count of the exi isive devi !.jpincnt of the
rocks in North NV iles. The Laurcntian sys-
tum lies below tli Cambrian.
271. primordial Trilobites— fH'-/o6-i<« —
That is, "the tb cc-lobed animals of tTio
Cambrian series." The trilobife is an ex-
tinct crustacean, ot varying size, somewhat
resembling our k» -ler, but with a head
shaped like a hor i>shoe. The covering
consists of three c. visions or lobes, and
is articulated like t le tail of the common
crayfish.
280. Eophytic — f'-o-/i/t>'<-ic — From the
Greek e'-oi, dawn, and phy-ton, a plant—
" the dawn of plant life."
284-286. to rain . . . ground— See Gene-
sis II., 5.
292. infiltration .... matters—" Its ca-
nals, or tubes, were filled up by the minute>
U\
544
'EXPLANATORY NOTES.
!^tony particlps in the wafer, thus preserving
the (onn ot the animal in a petrified state."
293. successors and representatives — ]
"Those ot the same kind tliat cainc after,
and those liavinj,' affinity, but not of the
same kind," !
305. Foraminifers-The Anglicised form
I of the Latin " foraininifcra."
! 32.3. depauperated-" DeRcnerated."
izC). types— are individiu.ls possessing or
exeinplifyii:g the essential cliar.icteristics of
a species or (,'roup. Sometimes the term is
applied to such an ideal representation.
SKETCH OF THE CONSTITUTION OF CANADA.
Adapted fron, O'Sullivan's Manual 0/ Government in Canada, with additions to date.
l)y the Author.
I. Thk Constitution of Canada.
The Constitution of Canada is in principle
simiKir to that of Great Hrit.iin. The Ivn-;-
lish constitution is, for tlie most part, un-
written; the Canadian is written, I)ut is not
confined to what is written.
It is usual to speak of the British form of
government as being a Limited or Constitu-
tional Monarchy -that is, the power ol the
British Monarch or Sovereign is limited or
defined by the terms of the Constitution. The
term Constitution in this connection means
the agreement between the ruler and the
people as to the mode of government: it
defines his rights and their duties. To
effect tills, the people are represented in an
assembly called a Parliament, in which the
Sovereign also has a voice. As both ruler
and people are represented they can, and
usually do, settle all questions of government.
In England, if the Parliament is determined
upon any course, the Sovereign or Queen
does not now oppose it ; nor can the Queen
adopt any course in opposition to Parliament.
From this it appears that in reality the
people govern the country, because their
representatives are free to do what tliey
choose. In theory the Queen is the ruler,
but in practice the two Houses of I'arliameiit
rule the country— the Queen merely adopts
their views.
In Canada the same theory and practice
prevail ; the Queen is the Sovereign or
Monarch for us as for the other subjects of
Great Britain. The agreement between the
people and the Queen, or the Constitution, is
embodied in an Imperi.U Act called The
British North America Act of 1867, This
provides for the government of Canada by
machinery similar to that of the Government
of Gre.it ]5ritain. Caiwda, however, is a
union of provinces and territories, and these
are permitted to legislate for themselves on
certain specified subjects; on all others the
legislation is provi^ied by the Parliament of
the Dominion of Canada. Such a union is
kncnvn as n Federation or Federal Union.
Hence the British America Act of 1S67,
uniting these provinces, is often cited as'
The Confederation Act.
The United States is also an example of a
confederation ; but, whereas the Provinces
of Canada in forming their union gave up to
the Central (or Dominion) Government all
their powers with the exception of certain
specified ones, the various States of the
Union gave up to the Central Government
certain specified powers, reserving to them-
selves all others.
II. The Privy Council or Ministry.
In Great Britain the Parliament is the
supreme ruling power. In Can.ada the su-
preme power is divided among the Imperial,
the Canadian, and the Provincial Govern-
ments. In Great Britain Parliament is the
highest authority on questions of law. In
Canada this power rests with the Courts:
they can pronounce on the constitutionality
of an Act of tho Canadian Parliament, and
refuse to be guided by it, if found to be un-
constitutional.
The ParHament of the Dominion pro-
vides for the peace, order, and good govern-
mcnt of Canada in all inatterB not specially
assigned to the Legislatures of the Prov-
inces.
< '• \
^•K^«rtfTO^i^n)?i-fii
EX PL A XA TOR Y XO TES.
545
' Degenerated."
iie Dominion pro-
In both Kngland and Canada Parliament
entrusts the governnjunt of the people to a
select few —usually not more than twelve or
thirteen persons — and so Ion?; as these (»ive
satisfaction they are retained in office,
rhey are known as the Ministry, Privy
Council Cabinet, Government, oi Admin-
istration ; in Canaila their jnoper {li.sinn.i-
tion is the Queen's Privy Council for
Canada. Uach member of the Ministry
must bo also a member of either the Com-
mons or the Senate, so as to be answerable
to Parliament for liis conduct of jjublic
affairs. Whenever the Ministry docs not
satisfy the people in the manat,'ement of
affairs, it is turned out of ofPce, and another
body of Ministers takes its place.
Parliament, therefore, especially the Com-
mons, always presents the spectacle of one
body of men in office called the Ministry or
Government, who are managing the affairs
of State, and are supported by a m.ajority of
the House; and an opposing number who
have lost that position, and are striving
to recover it with the aid of their support-
ers. The latter are called tlie Opposition,
and it is the differences of opinion between
these sections of Parliament that give rise
to Political Parties, The Constitution
knows nothing of " party" or " opposition " ;
it governs through Ministers of the Crown.
Tlie Ministry or Government can do noth-
ing unless supi>orted by a majority of the
people's representatives, and so government
on these terms is called Responsible Gov-
nerment, that is, the Ministry is responsi-
ble to the people for the conduct of public
affairs.
The Privy Council or Government of tlie
day has in its hands the whole task of govern-
ing the people. It can "overn only according
to law. True, it can, with tlie consent of
Parliament, make laws; but the laws must
be in force before they can constitutionally
be acted upon. The Government is not
only answerable for any new legislation, but
responsible for such laws as are in force.
Every Bill passed tl'.rough Parliament,
whether introduced by the Government or
the Opposition, becomes an act chargeable
to the administration of the day. This is the
Legislative function of the Government.
The carrying out of the laws is called the
Executive functions of a Government.
These are of two kinds,— ist. Judicial, and
2nd. Administrative. The Ministry is re-
sponsible for the pr()i)er interpretation of the
laws, and so establishes Courts It also
appoints the jiulges, who hold office during
giHiil Inh.iviour and cannot be removcsd
unless by petition lo I'.uliament. These
duties eoMsiitutc the Ministry's Judicial
functions,
riio third duty of the Government is to
see that the laws are projierly adminis-
tered. This is done either by tin; offi-
cers of the Courts or by the olfiiers of the
various departments of State. In the Do-
minion Government there are thirteen
departments, presided over by .Ministers of
theCrowu. — Departments lor Public Works,
Railways and Canals, Agriculture, Militia
and Defence, the Post Office service, and
others ; so that no part of public affairs is
overlooked.
The Ministry or Government thus fulfils
its task of making laws, explaining them,
and carrying them into execution; tliese
being the legislative, judicial, and execu-
tive functions of the Government. In Eng-
land the Ministry performs these duties in
their fullest signification, but it is different
in Canada. Here the Courts arc constituted
by the I'rovincial authorities, and the Pro-
vincial Legislatures have a share in the
Legisl.itive or law-making function. They
have also an Executive witli Administrative
functions.
III. Thk P.vrliamknt oi' Canada.
The Parliament of Great Britain is com-
posed of the Queen, the House of Lords,
and the House of Commons, though it is
usual to speak of ParliaiiuMit as denoting
these two bodies. In Canada, Parliament
is composed of the Queen, the Senate, and
the Commons. In both countries these re-
inesentative bodies form a very large num-
ber, and are altogether too unwieldy to
assume the task of governing the people
directly.
The Queen is represented in Canada by a
Governor-General, who is appointed by the
Imperial Government, and holds office dur-
ing pleasure. He performs similar functions
to those which by the Constitution of lingland
devolve upon the Queen, such as summon-
ing and dissolving the Commons ; though for
■
54^
EXPLANATORY NOTEfi.
these and otlior duties liis name is used by
the Goveniineiit of iha day for tlic jjiirposes
reqiiiied. When lie chooses :i new Minis-
try, or appoints Senators, or tho Speaker of
the Senate, or t,'ives or refuses assent to any
Dill in the Queen's name, he does so upon
the ulvice of his Ministry. In the same
way he appoints Judtjcs and Lieutenant-
Governors, disallows Provincial Acts, and
performs other duties. The Queen has the
power to veto measures passed by the Lords
and Commons, but the power has fallen into
disuse. The Governor-General theoretically
possesses the same power in reference to the
other branches of the Canadian Parliament ;
but it is equally unused. Sometimes, how-
ever, he reserves doubtful measures for the
Queen's consideration. The President of
the United States takes an active part in
le.^islation, and frequently uses his power of
veto. But a measure may become law with-
out his assent, if, after haviuf,' been vetoed
by him, it again passes the Senate by a vote
of two-thirds of the members. When Cana-
dian Ministers resign office on a vote of want
of confidence by the Commons, tho Gover-
nor-General usually sends for the leader of
the Opposition to form a new Cabinet ; and
even then it is the person so selected that is
responsible to the people in case he attempts
the task of forming a new Government. It
would seem to be well settled now that a
Governor has no other course to pursue than
to follow the advice of responsible Ministers.
There would otherwise be no free govern-
ment.
The Senate, or second House in the Cana-
dian Parliament, corresponds in some re
spccts to the House of Lords in England.
Thenumberof members fluctuates, but must
not exceed 78. Ontario and Quebec were
supposed to have each one-third of the
original number {yz), the other one-third
being taken from the remaining provinces. A
Senator must be at least thirty years of age, be
a British subject, worth .Si.ooo or upwards,
and reside in the province for which he is
appointed, unless he is a Minister of the
Crown. He may forfeit his seat for not pos-
sessing any of these requirements, or upon
being convicted of crime, or for absence
from Parliament during two successive ses-
sions. The first members of the Senate, as
at present constituted, were appointed by
the Governor-General in 1867, and any
vacancies that have since occurred, h.ive
been filled by the Ministry of the d.iy. The
members are appointed for life, but m.iy
resign. They are styled "Honorable," but
neither their seat nor their title is trans-
missible by descent. Their duties are en-
tirely legislative : they can initiate any Hill
except a money Bill.
The House of Lords in England is very
differently constituted. The number is not
limited, and the Government can create new
Peers when it deems it expedient. This
course is not open to the Canadian Cabinet.
If our Commons and Senate should persist
in a dead-lock, legislat\.n would be stopped,
for the Constitution jii^vides no remedy.
There would probably Lo an appeal to Eng-
land. The majoriiy of the members are
hereditary nobles, and transmit their right
to the seat as well as to a title. Committees
from their number form the highest appel-
late Courts for suitors in Great Britain and
Ireland, and they have all legislative powers
except those pertaining to money Bills.
There are five orders of Peers in the House
of Lords— Dukes, Marquises, Earls, Vis-
counts, and Barons.
The Commons is the important constitu-
ent of Parliament. It really rules the other
two elements— the Crown and the Senate.
It is the people's assembly, and its member.-,
must be returned by a popular vote every
five years at least. The acting Ministry arc
chiefly, if not altogether, members of the
Commons.
The number of members of Parliament
varies. Until the taking of the census of
18S1 the number was 20G— Ontario sending
88 ; Quebec, 65 ; New Brunswick, 17 ; Nova
Scotia, 20; Manitoba, 4 ; Prince Edward Is-
land, 6; British Columbia, G. Until the
census in 1891 the numbers will be Ontario,
92 ; Manitoba, 5, and the other provinces as
above.
A member need not possess property quali-
fication, nor need he be a resident of his
constituency or province, but he must be a
British subject. He must not be a contrac-
tor with the Government, a salaried o.Ticer-
except when a Minister of the Crown— an
officer in the army, navy or militia, a Sena-
tor, or a member of any Local Legislature.
The members are elected by those entitled
EXPI.ANA TOR Y XO TES .
547
to vote at Partiainentary (;lt.ctioiis, but lu.iy
bo UMsoatc'd f(jr bribi ry, undue influences,
or other like causes.
A voter must possess certain tpialifica-
tions. Unless prevented by law, a person
twenty-one years of a:;e may vote if he is
entered on the voters' list as the owner of real
estate of spccifu-d value, or if he is assessed
on his income for at least •'?4oo. Those ex-
cluded by law from voting; arc women, judf^es,
clerks of the peace, county attorneys, regis-
trars, sheriffs, deputy clerks of the Crown,
Crown Lands agents, custom house officers
and excise officers, rostmasters in cities and
towns, and certain officers concerned in elec-
tions. Farmers' sons, if living on the farm
ai\d rated for a sufficient sum, may vote.
Parliament is summoned annually to
Ottawa for the despatch of business. Pre-
vious to this the Ministry prepares an Ad-
dress, which usually foreshadows any in-
tended legislation. On the day appointed
for the opening of the House, the Governor-
General roiuls the .\d(lress from the Throne
in the Senate Chamber, and it is afterwards
debated in both Houses. The procedure is
very similar to that of the Commons and
Lords in ICngland. Each House has its own
Speaker, who presides over its delibera-
tions ; fifteen members form a quorum in
the Senate, twenty, in the Commons. Any
member can introduce a measure, but a Bill
must be passed by both Houses, and as-
sented to by the Governor-General, before
it becomes law ; and every Hill is read four
times in each House, and must be passed
by a majority, before the Queen's assent is
asked to it. Should the Governor-General
refuse his assent to a Hill passed by both
Houses, the Commons could refuse to vote
the supplies. At the close of the Session
the Governor-General again attends in the
Senate Chamber, summons the Commons,
form.'iUy assents to the Bills or reserves
them in Her Majesty's name, and then pro-
rogues Parliament. The Bills then become
Act* of Parliament, and are laws of the land.
The great majority of the Members and
Senators are relieved from duty till the next
Session, but the work of government is, of
coiirse, carried on in the meantime by the
Ministers of the Crown.
IV, TiiK Provincial Institutions.
Eichof the provinces has its own Legis-
lature, or P.uli.iment, as it is inrorrecily
called, ami these I.egisl.itu'.e-i de.il with
certain subjects spicifiiil in the BriliNli
North .\merica .Vet. Thesi' subjects m.iy
be said gener.Uly to In; .ill matters of a
merely local or priv.ite n.iture in the prov-
ince, including those relating to property
.111(1 civil rights. Within these limits the
Local Governments are supreme: with .ill
other matters the Ceiitr.il Government at
Olt.iw.i deals. The Provincial Legisl.it ures,
in Quebec, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia,
and Prince Kdw.ird Island, ;ire composed of
two Houses— .1 Legislative Assembly and
a Legislative Council— in Ont.uio, M.mi-
toba, and British Cohrmbi.i, ol .i Legislative
Assembly only. The .\sseinlily corresponds
to the Commons ; the Legislative Council to
the Senate. The members of the Legislative
.Assemblies are elected every four years by
votes of the peoi)le, and with the members
of the Legislative Council (where tlu'ie is
such), form the Local Legislature of e.icli
Province. In each province there is a Lieu-
tenant-Governor and a Ministry or Gov-
ernment, as at Ottawa, with deii.irtmcnts
presided over by Ministers, for Public Works,
Crown Lands, ICducation, etc. The Ivxecu-
tive Council for Oiit.irio consists at present
of six members, the .\ttorney-General, the
Minister of Education, the Commissioner
of Crown Lands, the Commissioner of Pub-
lic Works, the Provincial Tre.isurer and
Commissioner of .\griculture, and the Pro-
vinci.il Secretary and Registrar. The Lieu-
tenant-Governor is an officer of the Domin-
ion Government, but acts on the recom-
mendation of his provincial advisers. He
holds office for five years, and bears the same
relation to the Provincial Legislatures as
the Governor-General does to the Parlia-
ment of Canada. A vote of censure on his
conduct by the Commons and the Senate is
sufficient to cause his removal by the Gover-
nor-General.
Each Provincial ICxecutive Council pro-
ceeds with the task of government on the
same theory .as the Privy Council of Canada.
The Lieutenant-Governor, with his Legisla-
ture, is the Executive for the Provinces, as
the Queen is for the Dominion. TIk; Local
Legislatures meet at tlu; cipit.ils of their
respective Provinces, when an address is
read by the Lieutenant-Governor, and a
m
r •
■ .■p | ttft » wj i .{i ">' y «> w * j «w ^ *W * ii fM.'^
548
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
Speaker appointed ; the same formalities as
to Bills are observed as in Ottawa; the
House is prorogued when the Su.-;;ion is
over; and the Assembly is dissolved when
tlie term of oirico of the members has ex-
pired, or sooi.er, if the Lieutenant-Governor
is so advised. The North- West Territories
have their affairs administered by a Cover-
nor and a Council, under the direction of tho
I )<)ininion authorities. The District of Kee-
w.itin is imder the control of the Lieutenant-
Governor of Manitoba, (b'or tlie Constitu-
tional History of C.m.ida, see Primer o/
CaTiuilian History.)
"M
Books of Ri^fkricnce on American LiTERATUR.c.-Underwood's '■ American Authors " •
Richardson s " Pnmer of American Literature"; and an "Appendix to the Primer of
uietl ^'^'■'""'■^' P"'^"'^'*'-''! ^y Appletoa & Co. Richardson's Primer is the most
LONGFELLOW.
The Fasting.
INTRODUCTORY.-Edda-A name given to two collections of Scandinavian compositions
one cons.stmg oi n.y.hological and heroic songs, the other of pro.e narratives dealing
wall mythology and with the language of the old bards and their modes of composition
Tlie measure employed in "Hiawatha" is 4«., blank verse; it is the first Ion- poem
ever written .n this measure. The subject is a legend of a primitive people, whose^simple
language ar.d frequent repetitions the author i-nitates. The latter peculiarity is found
in the early ballad poetry of most countries from Homer downwards
Accordh.;, to some interpreters of "The Song of Hiawatha," tho story is that of
Christianity in the form it assumed after long ages of traditional corruption, and through
the poetic embellishment of a highly imaginative people. Accordingly, Hiawatha is
tlie Indian Christ. Those who hold this view assume that in some waV the elements of
Christianity had been introduced into America before the arrival of Columbus, possibly
by the ni.ssionaries of the Nestorian Church, who in tue early days of Christianity
penetrated to the coasts of China, and proclaimed the reign of Shiloh on the shores of the
-Mvt" ^"r ^°"7'"« '^ ^ statement of the interpretation so far as the text is concerned .
- When Hiawatha was exhausted through fasting there came one to him to test his
powers of physical endurance. Nothing is more plausible than that the event recorded
in the gospel narrative should take this form in the mind of a partially Christianized race,
rrue, in the Indian legend it was not an enemy but a friend of man who came to test him.
It IS not difficult to see how this change of complexion was given to the Bible story.
Trials endured and temptations resisted develop the nobler powers of the soul and are
thus blessings though they come in disguise. It was a fierce contest between Hiawatha
and his tempter, but in the end the Saviour of liis people triumphed." It is, however well
to remember that, although there is a resemblance between incidents in the career of our
Saviour and in that of Hiawatha, this view of the case has no foundation on fact
13- Moon of Leaves— The month of May.
Primitive nations liave usually named the
seasons from the natural phenomena that
characterize them. The bursting forth and
growth of leaves specially mark our month
of May.
46. wampum— A name given by the In- ^_ ^..
dians to small shells or pieces of shell, used { pursuing U
as money, or strung on thread to be worn
round the neck, or wrought into belts.
62-67. Note that ieveiiing is the best time
for meditation.
95-102. The earnest endeavor after an ob-
ject always gives new strength and hope in
g^g^ssjTOtsaEar ja g B ' u a g q t .'t i
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
Kiitrr Robert of Sicily.
Tho measure is sxa, in ihyming couplets, with the usual occurrences of ax feet..
549
; is the best time
1. In scanning, shir a syllable of " Sicily "
and " brother," or take the 3r(i and 4th feet
as Anapaests.
2. AUemaine — Gormany ; from the old
German tribe Alleniauni,
5. St. John's Eve— Commemorates, in the
Roman Catholic Church, the birth of John
the Baptist, but tho popular practices con-
nected with it point to a heathen origin.
6. Mag:nificat— A musical composition
sung in the evening services, or vespers, of
the Roman Catholic Church. The words
are taken from Luke I, 4^-55.
9-10. De po's-u-it po-Unt'-ccs de sc'-dc, et ex-
alt-a'v-it hu'-mil-ees. In scanning, the last
syllable of "potentes" and "sede" may be
slurred.
17-20. These lines are the key of the story.
The King, as it were, challenged the Al-
mighty, and was instantly taken at his word.
He was to be taught the lesson of humility
however unpleasant the experience.
3^ stalls— Niches, or standing pLaces, in
the walls jf chapels: sometimes the em-
balmed or coffined remains of eminent prel-
ates were placed in these stalls.
49-62- The "irony of fate" is seen in the
lofty pretensions of the man in contrast with
his actual condition.
82. Jester— A person formerly kept by
nobles and kii<»s, for the purpose of creating
mirth by his buffoonery, and by his witty or
sarcastic remarks on persons or things. He
wore a parti-colored dress and a peculiarly
shaped hat, having long points to which
bells were attached, and furnished with ass's
ears and a cock's comb. He carried in his
hand a kind of sceptre, one end of wh'ich
was carved into a grotesque head ; this was
called the "fool's bauble." The circus
clown is his modern representative.
104 The "Dead Sea fruit" is said to be
.eaiitiful to the eye, but filled with bitter
asting dust
106. According to Cfreck mythology, when
Saturn was the supreme gnd of ilu^ universe,
peace and h.ippiness, innocence and abun-
dance reigned on earth. This was termed
the "Golden Age."
no. Enceladus — at cd'-a-dun — A giant
whoni Jupiter conlinod biMiealh Mount
.Ktna, and whoso struggles c.^use the erup-
tions of that volcano with its attendant
earthquakes.
T30. King Robert might hope for recogni-
tion by his brothers, and the sumuious to
Rome gave the opi>ortunity ; the f.iilure
reduced him to despair.
132- Holy Thursday— The day of Cur
Lord's Ascension.
1C9. Holy Week— The week which pre-
cedes L.i.^.cr Sunday, and nliich the church
devotes to s[)t!cial fasting, almsgiving, and
religious services.
170. A common belief affirmed that the
sky is supernatiirally bright, and th.it the
sun dances, on Easter morning. In Suck-
ling's "Ballad upon a Wedding," the fol-
lowing stanza occurs ; —
" 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 I
No sun upon an Easter D.ay
Is half so fine a sight."
175-180. The King at last bereft, broken in
spirit, and completely humbled can now
receive and profit by the divine lesson. He
hears " the rushing garments of the Lord."
189. Angelus— A prayer to the Virgin
Mary, recited three times ,1 day at the sound
of a bell called the .An'-gclus.
196-200. Not only has the lesson of humil-
ity been taught, but the king recognizes his
sinfulness in his Maker's eyes.
199. The reference is to the monks going
barefoot in token of penitence and humility.
55°
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
PARKMAN.
i:'!- n
T/ir Discovery of Lake Oiuiitplaht.
)i I
m 1 ' f
*'i
Critical. — 62. Historical Proportion —
Tlie due observance of tho lolativu import-
ance of events in liistorical narrative.
I. September— In iCoS.
I. Pontgra.ve-pon-gra-vay~no. liad been
given tlio comnumd of one ship liy ]3o
Monts, tlie colonizer of Acaciie, to go in
company willi Cliamplain, wlio commanded
another; tlio former was to collect furs
while the latter was to go exploring and
colonizing. See Prim. 0/ Can. Histow,
Chap. II., 5.
2. Charaplain— See Prim, of Can. History,
Chap. II., 6-14.
6. Tupelo -/»'-/)(■-/()— A tree of the <log-
wood species.
29. shad bush — Other names are June-
berry, mountain whortleberry, service-berry.
It is a shrub having a profusion of white
flowers, and bearing a sweet purple berry,
which usually ripens in June.
36. Marais— »ia;--rt'v.
37- Tadoussac— /rt(;-oos-srtt'— A village at
the mouth of the Ssguenay.
43. La Salle— /rt/j-srt/'—( I C+3- 1 687). See
Prim, of Can. History, Chap. III., 12.
44. See Prim, of Can. History, Chap.
11-, 7-
58. Iroquois -I r-a-ku>ah— Sec note on 1.
332. "Confederation"; also, J'yiin. of Can.
Histo y, Chap. 11., g.
61. Romans— The ancient Romans were
renowned for the extent of their conquests,
and for the organization of tb-'r armies ; in
these respects the Iroquois were supposed
to resemble them.
52-67. " The tribes east of the Mississippi,
between the latitudes of Lake Superior and
the Ohio, were divided into two groups or
families, distinguished by a radical differ-
ence of language. One of these families of
tribes is called Algonquin, from the name
of a small Indian coaiauaiily on the Ottawa. ;
The other is called the Huron-Iroquois, i
from the names of its two principal mem-
bers." (Parkm.m.)
71-72. Montagnais— /;io/i-/a«-va'j'— A tribe
of Algonquins on the Lower St. Lawrence.
loi. La Routte— /a/i-rao/'.
no. Riviere des Iroquois— ;i!-c-<ii';-'-,/(jjs
Ir-a-kwah -The River of the Iroquois.
120. Belaeil-7ji7-i(/i-f'.
170. sheets of bark— From tho white
birch.
184. medicine-man -lie is both doctor
and prophet to the Indians, and exercises
J,'reat influence over them.
257. Ticonderoga— .\ fort at the southern
extremity of Lake Champlain, built by the
French in 1755 ; in 1758 the English were
repulsed in an attack on it, but in the fol-
lowing year it was abandoned by the French.
In 1775 it was t.ikcn by tho revolted colo-
nists, recaptured in 1777 hy Durgoyne, dis-
mantled on his surrender, but re-occupied
in 1780 by the British. On the close of the
war it was abandoned finally.
259- George, Como— These lakes are each
about thirty miles long and three broad, and
renowned for their picturesque beauty and
transparent waters.
262. Fort William Henry-A fortification
at the south end of Lake George, the chan-
nel of communication between Canada and
the Hudson. In 1757, the fort was besieged
by Montcalm at the head of 10,000 men, and
its garrison, after a gallant de.fence, capitu-
lated, and were massacred by tho Indiaa
allies of the French.
271 Crown Point, on the west shore of
Lake Champlain, about ninety miles north
of Albany. It joins the townof Ticonderog.a,
and is noted as the site of Fort Frederick,
now in ruins, erected by the French in 1731!
The fort came into the hands of the British
in 1759, and with its garrison of twelve men
was taken in .May, 1775, by a detachment of
Americans under Seth Warner, forming pan
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
55T
two principal mem-
cl tiie lorce with which Etlian Allen sur-
prised Fort Ticonderoga.
309, cuisses — kurcsfs — Armor for the
iliii;hs
314. landing— In Deceniher, 1620,
315. King Philip— Philip, kinK or sachem
of I'okanoket, in Massachusetts, was for
some timefiicndly to the settlers of Plymouth
and Boston; but in i('i;5 a war broke out
which cost the lives of 600 colonists. The
following year Philip was defeated and killed
at the battle of Mount tlopc.
3f")3. Place de la Gt^wt—plcu-de-lah-Rrave,
363. Ravaillac — i'«'i-'(»'i-'-^'i(' - A Jesuit
who assassin, it(;il lliui y IV. of rraucii, and
was put to death by torture.
375. paladin — Knif;ht.
3IJ3. See I'lim. of Can. // is/oc^, Chap. III.,
5-6,9-11; IV., 1,3.
-From the white
WHITTIEK.
Skipper Ircson's Ride.
The poem is narrative, of the ballad class, but contains too much description, and is
too highly wrought, to entitle it to be called a pure b.iUad. Simplicity of language and
verse, lack of poetic ornament, with the interest centred in the story itself, are tlie leading
features of the pure ballad. Also in a ballad the story is entered on at once, without any
prefatory remarks.
The measure is ^a, with frequent ax and xxa feet ; often a smoother scansion is
obtained by making one foot in the line an a followed by an xxa, as in !1. 2, 5. The last
line of each stanza is 2xxa and xa.
The refrain or burden of a song or ballad is usually the leading thought, expressed or
implied, repeated at the end of each stanza.
3. Apuleius — ap-n-lc'-e-us — A satirical
writer born about a.d. 130. .Vmoug hi .
works is one entitled the "Golden Ass,"
which is supposed to satirize the various
priesthoods, together with the vices of the
age.
4. Calendar— Referring to the story of
Agib in the "Arabian Nights."
5. A witch's favorite steed was said to oe
a broomstick.
6. .\rabian legend says that Mahomet
made a journey from earth to heaven on the
back of a strange animal called Al-Borak.
10. .Scan "c.irri(-d" as one sy'lable.
11. Marblehead— .\ small fishing hamlet
near Gloucester, Massjichusefts.
26. Bacchus — See note on 1. 118, "Dis-
coverer o'' C.uiad.i." Ancient v.ises often
bear representations of fem.ile devotees of
B.-icchus dancing and indulging in various
frantic motions.
30. Maenads — The frenzied devotees of
Bacchus ; here applied to " the women of
Marblehead."
The Bay of Seven Islands.
This poem contains too much poeti'-nl ornament to be called a pure ballad, though it
more ncMrly appro.aches that characte lan does " Skipper Ireson's Ride." Tennyson's
" Lady Clare" is a fine modern illustration of the pure ball.id. See remarks on preceding
poem.
The measure is xa, with frequent ax and xxa leet ; the first two lines have four feet each,
the last two three each. The stanza is a qii.itrain {fcnr lines) in rhyming coup'ets.
The numerous instances of repeated words and forms of expression in " Skipper Ireson's
Ride" and "The Bay of Seven Islands" would seem to prove that the author does not
possess an extensive poetical vocabulary.
m
,m
[ill;
552
EX PL A NA TOR Y NO TES.
2. apple-bloom-An instance of the poet-
ical ornament referred to above.
6. Newbury- In New Hampshire.
9- Northern Gulf-Gulf of St. Lawrence.
10-11. Isl.mils in the Giilfof St. Lawrence.
36. heretic-Equivalent hero to Protes-
tant.
65 Compare with 11. y.^t "Skipper Ire.
son's Ride."
98. Moisie -wwrjA--f'-Near the Bay of
Seven Islands.
16. Oil tlu; norlli sliore of the St. Law
rence, north of Anlicosli.
17-24. These stanzas are not in balWd , T'^''. '^I'T ''''""'' ""^ '
style. '•^' ""' j ''a^t coast of New Brunswick.
32. Provencal-/»-o-iaii)«-s(i7i/— Provence
is a southern province of iManco. PrcMich
colonists, however, generally came from the
noi th of France.
140-141. These places are on the north-
ast coast of New Brunswick.
146. Montagnais -See note 1. 71 " Dis.
covcry of Lake Champlain.
147. kyack— A small boat covered with
undressed hide.
HAWTHORNE.
David Swan.
5-6- or even . . . minds-Hcnce to us
such events never took j)lace and so could
have no influence on our lives.
43. whose . . . scorn— Those whose de-
light it is to speak ill of others without
cause. Cf. Psalms cxl. 3 ; James iii. 8.
103. This scene is quite natural : the
elderly couple coming suddenly upon the
sleeper, whose appearance strikes them,
listen only to the promptings of a kindly
nature, bestowmg no thought on the dis-
parity of their stations in life. The sound
of the servant's voice breaks the spell ; they
are the rich people again, and the youth is
an unknown wanderer with whom thry can
have nothing to do.
132-I35. She . . . meet-The author refers
to a behef at one time hel.I that in a prenatal
existence certain souls had become closely
associated, and that true love could exist on
earth only when such souls became reunited.
210. When we are only partly awake, a
noise IS confused and indistinct, thus resem-
bling an object rendered obscure to the eye
by being enveloped in mist.
217-223. Had he known them, his life would
have been "too full of hope and fear, exul-
tation or disappointment," 11. C-g.
BRYANT.
To A Waterfowl.
The poet gazing up into the evening sky, marks the flight of the bird .nH
Its destinat on. He feels that an >,„=„„„ , • . ,. ^ "° ''"^"> ^"" muses upon
air, and takes comfort St e .1" "hat ;!'[ " '"''"^ '^ ,'=°""'^ ""°"^" "^ I"^">'--
of the wilderness of life! ^^t^^'^^ ''"' ^'""^^'^ '^'''^' ^'^^^'^ '^^ -zes
of^tZSiZi'StC^j::^!::^;:::"^'^ ini.s descriptions, by .,. natura, character
full of poetFc beauty. ' " °' ''"'""^'^ "'^"'^ ''^ ^"--' ™ - i'^ simplicity, but
"To A Waterfowl '■ is a lyric with a didactic purpose.
The measure is 3 vrt in 11. I audi sfrt in II ^ >n^ , c
per ireson's Ride." The stanza il 'a';ar n ^^^h ^ert^tl^Cr ^^^^"^^ ''"'''''■
11. Any one who has stood on the sea-
shore and watched the motion of the water
—not the dashing of the waves against the
rocks-will recognize the perfect accuracy
n! this description.
lent hero to Protes-
5'-5i " Skipper Ire.
-Near the Bay of
boat covered with
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
Thanatopsis.
553
This na me " Thanatopsis " is a compound of two Greek words " thanatos," death, and
"opsis," view— a view of death.
Tliopoem— a meditation on the thoughts associated with deatli -bel<m;;s to the lyric
class; it first appeared in the North American Review in 1817; sinco tlien it has been
extended and repe.itedly revised by the author.
The measure is 51(1, blank verse.
17. Comes . . . voice — Cf. i Kings, xix.
11-12; Psalms xix. 1-3.
42-43. poured .... waste— Amongst the
early Greeks it was believed that the e.irth
was a plane, the Mediterranean bein;; in
the centre, and the river Oeeanus " poured
round all."
50-31. Take
morning:— Cf. Ps.alms
cxxxix. 9. Wings are symboliral of swift-
ness.
SI. Oregon— -Now the Cohind'ia River.
Two kinds of wilderness are rerirre<l to by
the poet.
75. caravan — .\ caravan does not move
forward in one ni.iss, nor with an extended
front, but in a long hie.
v'lih whom they can
WASHINGTON IRVING.
Westminster Able]
5. Westminster— "Minster" and "mon-
astery" are derived from the same Latin
word moiiiisteriiim; but the former came
into the English language at an earlier
period than the latter.
10. Westminster School — One of the
greai schools of i;a;;l,uid ; the buildings
formerly belonged to the Abbey.
40. in relief— That is, raised above the
surface of the surroundini; stone. This
elevation, when slight, is termed bas-relief,
low relief, or basso relievo ; when very
marked it is termed alto-relievo, or high
relief.
44-45. Vitalis— Abbot:
rentius — Lawrence.
Gislebert : Lau-
50. exact . . . ashes— Sec Gray, 11. 91-92.
66. handiwork— The " i " of this word was
originally "ge," an Anglo-Saxon prefix de-
noting completion.
86. Poets' Corner— A section of the Abbey
where authors of note are buried. It is said
that it derives its name from the fact that
the poet Chaucer was the first litenary man
buried there. The busts of some poets find
a place in the Abbey, while their bodies lie
^Isewber^,
128-129. See Arabian Xights' Entertain-
ments, Sixty-fifth night, where we find: " On
the last d.iy of that year, at four o'clock
in the morning, all the inli.d)itants were
changed in an instant into stone, every one
in the condition and posture he happened
to be in."
135. crusader— " Soldier of the cross;"
each wore a cross on his right breast. The
iirst crusade took place in 1096 ; the last, or
sixth, in 1270.
136-I39- The crusades, being undertaken
from sentiment and not for gain, resemble
the deeds of romance, of fiction, or of fairy-
land, rather than the deliberate actions of
rational men.
141. Gothic sculpture — "Gothic" was
first used as a term of contempt applied in
niediaaval times to architecture differing
(rom that of Greece or Rome, its chief char-
acteristic being the predominance of the
pointed arch.
144-146. This is especially true of the
Jerusalem Liberated (Girusalemma Libe-
rata), a poem by the Italian poet Tasso.
celebrating the capture of Jerusalem by the
1,
M
ii
mmttnnim^l^.
554
KXPLA SA TOR Y No TES.
Christians. The s,,,,cniatuial clciucnt per-
vades the whole boolt.
ifis. Roubmac-rno-bce-yac'-itCoi-tTCi].
A .scli.tor. born i„ I.^nce .u.il e.lucale.l at
Pans. Ho executed a.staluoolSh.ikcs|)eirc
now in the Uritish Museum ; oueof Newton,
now in Cambrid-c, ami nioniiuients to oth.T
celebrated personaKes. The monument
spoken of in the text was erected in ,758, to
commemorate the promatuie .lealh of the
wife ot Josei-li Gascoigno Nightingale.
I75. gibbering: (akin to gabble ami jabber)
"fl"""?''"""''?.""'' '''"'■'•• ""'i'^'i'i"S rapid
,„.„ i._ ... The i' is liard.
but senseless talk.
198- Henry the Seventh's Chapel-In
reality a continuation of the choir of the
Abbey.
214. Knights of the Bath - Itt c.irly
times sovereigns, at the ck ,nony o. ( pro-
nation, were accustomed to create a number
of kniglits, who, on the eve of tlioir receiving
knighthood, took a bath in token of the
purity which was to characterize their
lives. The name aj-pcars first in the time
of Henry IV. Since 1839 no banners have
been added to those already hung in the
chapel.
221. mausoleum — mau-M-le'-um — The
word is said to be .lerived from Mausolus
a king of ancient Caria, in Asia Minor, in
whose memory a magnificent tomb was
erected by his widow, at Ilalicarnassus.
266-267. I . . . . rest-See " Piers' Plow-
man " " I was wery forewandred.and went
me to reste." This poem is Alliterative.
280-300. Besides the harmonious effect of
the passage the author has a higher aim,
moral as well as artistic. He seeks to call
the mind away, but not too abruptly, from
from the objects he has hitherto been con-
j tcmplaling,-tho triumph of death over
cveryihing human, and the vanily and iic-
tmcss of human pursuits. The burstin >
I lorth of the muMc was like the song of th,.'
, 'mmc.rtal soul exulting :a its victory over
death. See also (ij, H., 1,9,)
J08. lidward the Confessor founded the
Abbey.
317. cl IT of coronation-A chair made
by order of ICdward I. 1„ it all the English
sovereigns since Ivlward's time have been
crowned. It encloses the famous coronation
stone of S.;onc, brought from Scotland by
1-dward. Legend says that this is the stone
used as a pillow by J.icob at Bethel. See
Genesis xxviii. n,
338-339. effigy . . . headless -Tho nead
was of silver.
374- Sir Thomas Browne— (1(05-1682)—
Noted for the wide extent of his k lowledge,
arul the thoughtful chancier of his writings,
AV/iV,o MciUci (Religion of a Pavsician), is'
his most in ..oriant production.
382- Alexander the Great—See note on
1. 243, " (leneral Wollo and Old Quebec."
384. In the sixteenth and seventeenth cen-
turies pieces of a mummy enclosed in a
little sack were worn round the neck as
amulets ; and mummy powder was esteemed
a cure for many diseases.
385. Cambyses — frtw-fiy-sM — A king of
Ancient Persia, who conquered Egypt in
525 U.C., and treated the people with great
severity. He showed liis contempt for their
religion by sl.iying the sacred bull and pro-
faning whatever they regarded as holy.
3S6. Mizrahn— A son of Ham. See Gen-
esis X, 6. His descend.'jits are said to have
settled in Egypt.
w
EXPLAXA'fnRY NOTES.
555
nfessor founded the
Mdless — The nead
Hooks of Ricfkpijncp. on F.Nr,i,isii Litkratukf. — Morley's "A Tirst Skrirh of F.iiMlish
Literaliiri!" ; Cr.iik's " r.itrr.itiiro and Li;arnin>; iit ICiiKl.md" ; Lliainbers' " Cyclop, I'dia
oflCnulisli I.itcralurc"; Hallaiii's " Litt-raluro of Kiiropo"; Tainc's "History of ICtiHlisli
Literature"; and Adams' "Dictionary of ICn^lish Literature."
TENNYSON.
Books of Ri-FFirr.NrK. — Sfedraan's "Victorian Poots"; Ilnlton's "Hsisays"; Roiro^'s
"Kssays"; T.iinsli's " Stiiilics in Tnnnyson"; Konnan's " Livin^; I'oct;"; Austin's
" I'ootry of tlic IVriod"; \V. C. Roscoe's, anil Uaynu's "lissays"; Kiii(;.sluy's " Misccjl.
lanics."
Tlw PasshifT c.f Arthur.
Tennyson has fonnded his i:iylls on tlic " Mortc Oarthur" of Sir Tlininas Malory, but
he sc1don\ follows him closcily. Malory lived in tin; rcinn of ICilwanl IV. and driw the
material for his book from the mcdia'val, chiefly I'"rench, rom.mres. The lirsl edition was
published by Caxton in 1485 (see Vrim. of Eiif;. Lit., pp. 45-46) ; a cheap modern one is
published by M.acmillan & Co. On the question of the Arthurian R-^mance , consult
Green's Short History 0/ JCni;!anil, Chap. III., sec. 1, " Geoffrey of Monmouth ; " I'rim. of
En);. Lit., pp. 24-25, and Saintsbury's Short History of I'rcnch Literature, Hook L
Chap. IV.
Tf.nnyson's adai'tation of the Arthur-
ian Romancks.— In" The Comin^of Arthur,"
the first of the idylls, Kinj; Arthur is a suitor
for the hand of Guinevere, dauRhter of Lco-
dogran, Kin;-,' of Canieliard, whom he helps
aS'ii'ist a heathen horde that have reddened
the sun with smoke and the earth with bloo(L
Victorious over them, Arthur sends from
the field of battle three of his new-made
knifihts to King Leodogran, s,aying, " If I in
aught have served thee well, give me thy
d.air liter, Guinevere, to wife." One of them,
Sir Hediverc— for " bold in heart and act and
word was he, whenever slander breathed
against the King " — indignant at a doubt cast
upon the royalty of his master's birth, tells
Leodogran that " all before his time was
Arthur born ; that, when born, he h.ad been
delivered at a secret postern gate to Merlin
" to be holden far apart uniil his time was
come"; and that in due season Merlin
brought him forth and set him in the hall,
proclaiming to Uther's Knights, "Here is
Other's heir, your King." Dellicent throws
more light on the mystery that enshrouds
the King. While the King debated with
himself, she came to Cameliard, and told
Leodo -r.an, that she had been near Arthur
when he .^at crowned upon the dais, and
bound his warriors to him by so strict vows
thai -.vhe:! they rO:ie ktiighieJ frotil kneeling,
" some were pale as at the passing of a
ghost, some flushed, and others dazed, as
one who wakes balf-blindcd at the coining
of a light. When he spake an<l chceriMl
his Table Round " with large, <livine, and
comfortable words " she beheld, "from eye
to eye thro' all their Order flash a momen-
tary likeness of the King." Thereat Leodo-
gran rejoiced ; but, to sift his doubts, asks
still further, and Belliccnt further tells that
Merlin, the magician, and Bleys, his master,
on the night that King Uther died, had gone
forth by the sea si<le and beheld high on the
dreary deeps a ship, the shape thereof a
dragon winged " and all from stem to stern
bright with a shining people on the decks,
and gone as soon as seen." They watched
the great sea fall wave after wave, each
mightier than the last,
"Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the
deep.
And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged
Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame;
And down the wave and in the flame was
borne
A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's feet.
Who stoopt and caught the babe, and
cried, ' The King 1
Here is an heir for Uther I' ....
And all at once all round him rose in fire.
So that the child and he were clothed in
fire.
And presently there followed calm,
Free sky an<l stars : ' And this same child,'
ho said.
Is he who reigns.'"
.^fler much ntut;iilg, " Sliitll I answer yuu or
nay ? " Leodogran had a dre.im in which "the
King stood out in heaven crowned," and
l^w
55(^
EX PL A NA TOR Y NO TICS.
when he awoke, he sent back Arihurs an.-
bassadors, answcriiiK yea.
Tbo s»cr,.e.|itiK i'lylln show the gradual
cornipii,,,, of the Tabl,, Koinul till th.l.u.li-
some opposite of all the Ki.iK's hr.nt had
dcst.nrd did obtain, and all ihrouKh G.iinc-
vero's shameful sin with Lancelot,
In "Garrcth and Lyncttc," the "noble-
natured " Garreth, full of lofty aspirations.
IS eager in spite of maternal affection an.l
other obstacles "to sweep in ever hiKhorin«
circles up to the Great Sun of Glo.y, an.l
thence swoop down on all iImmks bas^ in.l
dash then, dead -a KniKlu o( Arthur's work-
in*,' out his will to cleanse the world "
Loyally he submits to the hard conditions
impose.l upon him by his mother, an.l
supported by the nobler sj.irits of Arthur's
Court, me.kly cn<lures the disdainful treat-
ment ho receives from others, and answers
Kracionsly the roviliuKsof the damsel whoso
sister's wrongs he is redrossinu. In this
his first kingly service, ho overcomes Sir
Morning Star, Sir Noon.lay Sun, Sir Star of
Kvening, and Sir Death, (or Night, for "he
names himself the Night and oftener Death')
out of whose skull "issues the bright fare
of a blooming boy, fresh as a flower new
born."
In " Enid " the third idyll, Knid, the wife
of the brave Gcraint, "a Knight of Arthur's '
Court, a tributary prince of Devon," docs
not tell him " how men slur him, saying all
his force is melted into mere effeminacy."
In her meekness and self reproach she
deems herself all unworthy of her noble
husban.l's love, and is by him overheard,
exclaiming "O me I I fear I .i no true
wife." Rumors are abroad of Guinevere's
guilty love for Sir Lancelot : the taint of
suspicion has infected the Table Round, and
Geraint fears that Knid, the Queen's favorite,
also loves another. Then follows a severe
trial of the obedience, truth and loveliness
of the gentle wife; till, overcome at last,
Geraint remorsefully cries out " Hencefor-
ward I will rather die than doubt." Good
influences still predominate in Arthur's King.
dom, and Geraint, no longer forgetful of his
knightly duties or " molten down in mere
uxoriousnoss,"
Iliil, " the tiino is hard at han.l " " thodolor-
ous .lay" dr.iws near.
In " Vivien." the wily, lustful Vivien, who
l"Ve.l to t.irnish the f,,„,e of others, slolo
from Arthur's Court to avoid the laughter
at her failure when she "wouM f.iin h.ive
wr.Might upon his cloudy nioo.l with d irk
sweet hints of some who i-riz,,! him more
than who shoul.l prize him most." After-
wards she set herself to gain the secrets of
Mcrlm, "the most famous man of all these
times." Her wiles and protestations of love
are only loo successful; for Merlin, over-
talked an.l over-worn, yiel.ls an.l tells her
all his charms and sleeps. Tl-.en crying " I
have ma.le his glory ,„i„c," an.l shrieking
out "O f.,oli" tlio harlot leapt a.lown the
forest.
" Klaine " follows. In it wo have further
evidence of the bitter fruit of Guinevere's
lawless love. While owning h.ilf-disdain-
fully the w.Hth of Arthur, she tells Lancelot,
" I am yours, nc: Arthur's, as ye know, save
by ih.. bou.l." As f(,r Lancelot, " some sort
of kiiighthood and pure nobleness " grew
roun.l his sin.
" The great an.l guilty love he bore the Queen
.. battle with the /ove he bore his lor."
tiln'e""''' ■'' '' '"""^ "'■I'-ked it ere its
His moo.l was often as a fiend, and rose
.\ud diove him into wastes and solitudes
hor agony, who was yet a living soul "
A l,.'l,^®^r? '" A^"" ^5'*'*y' "" he crowned
A happy hie ..v.th a fairdciiih, and feii
f.f k".^! *•'/ heathen of the Northern Sea
In battle, fighting for the blameless King "
Klaine, " the lily maid of Astolat," gives
him her virgin love. " Him or death " stie
mutters, "Death or him;" an,: innocently
exten.ling her white arms, " Your love," she
said, " \our love-to be your wife." But
this Lanc.-lot cannot grant, and Elaine,
the fair, dies broken-hearted.
"The Holy Grail" is the title of the sixth
Idyll. (See Introductory, p. 215). King Arthur
disapproves of this quest on the part of his
Knights; for they are not Galahads, pure
men, but "men with strength and will to
right the wronged, of power to lay the sud-
den h.ands of violence flat." Yet kinglike
he bids them go, since they have taken the
oath, telling them that " the chance of noble
deeds will come and go," while they " follow
wandering fires," and that many of them,
yea, most, will return no more. Arthu '
himself nUnxfo tu^ j:_*_,_ ,- ,
^ ii, J.. ,n.,- a.^.ates o( duty, not oi
impulse, and so does not go on this Quest
of the Holy Thing. On some of the Knights
EXPLA.WATORY S'OTES.
557
latli,in(l""tliodolor-
com" niiuiilKss and phaillasips , Id all como
iiu^ailvt'iiliiK: : Sii itiiis, Sir L.tiuclnl, Sit
I'tTcivalc, siu!, ur lliiiik tlit'y liavu SL-uri, Tliu
iloly Grail; but to Sir (lalihad -to thu
iiiaidt.'ii KriiMtit alouu— in graiitud thu sight
111 all its Ml"ry.
" Pelluas ami Etarrc," tho seventh idyll,
relates tliu story of a youthful Kiii»;ht who
at a tournament wins the prize lor his lady,
but who after wards receives from her nothiii);
but cold and insulting; treatment, and most
foul dishonor, in which Gawaine, one of
Arthur's best loved Knights, bears ashanie-
hil and treacherous part : so deadly is the
blit;hting iullueiicc of Guiuevero's foul ex-
ample.
The deceit and treachery, and faithless-
ness, and the mockery uf the holiest ties in
"The Last TouriiaiiiiMit," show that the
storm of corruption has ciilininated, and
that the nlory of the Table Kouad has
departed forever.
In "Guinevere," the ninth idyll, "the
subtle beast," Sir Modred, discovers and
discloses the nuilly lovo of Lancelot and
Guinevere. The latter flies to the Convent
at Alniesbury. After waKing war on Lance-
lot, who has withdrawn to Urittany, Arthur
seeks his Queen to take a last farewell before
he sets out as^ainr.t the traitor Modred, who
has proclaimed liimself Kiiit^, and made a
lea^jue with the heathen and the Knights of
the White House. The liiiest passages ' i
the idylls — probably in any of Tennyson's
works — are to be found in " Guinevere."
The strain rises to sublimity in the inter-
view between .\rtluir and his remorseful
wife. There is nothing loftier than the pas-
sai^e beginning ; —
" Lo ! I forgive thee, as Eternal God
Forgives: do thou for thine own soul the
rest.
But how to take last leave of all I loved ?
golden hair, with which I used to play
Not knowing 1 O imperial-moulded form,
And beauty such as never woman wore
Until it came a kingdom's curse with tine—
1 cannot touch thy lips; they are not mine,
But Lancelot's : nay, they never were the
King's 1"
The last idyll, " The Passing of Arthur,"
portrays the failure of the King's hope, the
final disruption of the Table Round, and
the closing scenes of his life on earth.
Malory's Account OF the Passing.— On
the discovery of the Rui't of Queen Guine-
vere, L.mceliit ri'liredtoliisownl.ind,anil .\r-
lhi:i, persuaded by Sir G.iw.iiii, his lU'pluw,
In iilc war on him, and " biirnrd ,itid w.islnl
lhMiii|.;h the venge.mcu of Sir Gaw.iin, all
that they might overrun." Lancelot believ-
ing that " belter is peace lli.m always war,"
sent a messenger to Arthur to lugoli.itu a
treaty; but he, though willing to C(M1io to
terms, still followed the ailviii! of G.iwain
and refused 'ho "lair prulfers." King Ar-
thur then besieged Beiiwick, where L.incclot
had shut himself up. " So thus they i ndiired
for h.ilf a ye.ir, and miu h sl.iui:liter was of
people on both p.iities." During this time
Sir Gaw.iin slew m.ii.y knights, and in tho
end provoked to battle by his insulting lan-
guage Sir Lancelot, who on his sidu was
loath to engage In thu struggle Sir G.i-
wain was overthrown and hurt, but Sir
L.mcelot " withdrew him from him." Dur-
ing the King's absence in Fr.mce, Sir Mod-
red, whom hi. had appointed chief ruler
and the custodian of the Queen, " presumed
and took on liiin to be King of Hngl.md,"
and, having spre.id a report of Arthui'i
death, wished to marry Guinevere against
her will. When Arthur li.id tidings of tli ;,
he returned to Brit.iin an<l fought a battle
at Dover with Modred, who attempted to
prevent his landing. In tl'is engagement
Gawaip was mortally wounded, and for him
the King " iiiai! ^ sorrow out of measure."
Amongst tlii, people the coinmoi. voice was
that with .\rtliur was none other lilt- but
war and strife, and with Sir Modred was
great joy and bliss, " and many t!'.iTe were
that King Arthur had made up of naught
and given them lands, might not then say
of him a good word." So tli.it, though
beaten at Dover, Sir Modred had a large
following, and after the burial of Sir Ga-
wain there was another great battle in which
Arthur's party stood best, and Sir Modred
and his party fled to Canterbury. " .\nd
there was a day assigned between King
.\rtliur and Sir Moored, and they should
meet upon a down beside Salisbury and
not far from the sea-si<le, whereof Kin;;
Arthur was passing gl.id, that he might be
avenged on Sir Modred." The night be-
fore the d.iy appointed, King Arthur dreamed
a wondeiful liream. It seemed he fell into
a hideous black water in which were a'l
manner of serpents, and worms and wild
m
55^
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
beasts, foul and horrible ; aiid every beast
look hin, by a limb. And then the King cried
Htlii , as he lay in his bed an<l slept. And
l"^-. kniyhts and squires and yeomen awaked
luni, and ho was so amazed he wist not
where he was. Then ho fell a slumbering
ngani, and Gawain appeared to him with a
number of fair ladies. •• All these arc those
• hat I did battle for in righteous quarrel.
And God has given them that grace at their
Rreat pr.iyer that they should bring „,e
luiher^ unto you for to warn you of your
death." He then warned the King not to fight
.igani, but " make a treaty for a month and a
day till Lancelot came from Hrittany to
las aid ; for before his death Gawain had
repented of calling Lancelot a false traitor
and had written humbly to liim, begging
hnn " to see his tomb and to say some
prayer more or less for his soul," and urg-
ing lum to come with all haste to rescue that
noble King that made him knight from tlie
false traitor Modred. On consultation with
his noble lords and wise bishops, Arthur
followed }iis advice and sent two bishops
and two of liis knights to Sir Modred. who
on beu.g entreated a long time, at last agreed
to have Cornwall and Kent during King
Arthur's days-but, all England, after the
days of King Artlu.r. King Arthur and Sir
Modred, with fourteen persons each, met
between their hosts an<l agreed and accorded
thoroughly, but an accident led to a battle.
" And never was there seen a more dolefuller
battle in no Christian land. For there was
but rushing and riding, foining and striking
and many a grim word was there spokeii
either to other, and many a deadly stroke
And ever King Arthur rode throughout the
battle of Sir Modred many times, and did
/ull nobly as a noble King should ; and at all
times he fainteti never. And Sir Modred
that day put him in devoir ;Mid in great peril
And thus they fought all the long day and" !
never stinted, till the noble knights were laid '
to the co:d ground, and even they fought
still till it was near night, and by that time
was there an hundred thousand laid dead
upon the down. Then was Arthur wroth
out ol measure, when he saw his people so
Slain for him. Then the King looked about
him, and then was he ware of all his host
and of all liis g<,.,d knights wore no man
alive but two knights, that was Sir Luc^n
de Butlere, and his brother, Sir Dedivere,
and Ihuy fell even sore wounded.
Then w.is Arthur ware where Sir Modred
leaned upon his sword among a great heap
of dead men. ' Now give me my spear,' said
Arthur unto Sir Lucan, 'for yonder I h wo
espied tho traitor that all this woo huh
wrought.'" Sir Lucan tried to dissuade
lum, on the ground that Modred was un-
l'api>y, an<l that if the King passed this
unhappy day he should be right well re-
venged on him. He reminded him also of
his dream, and showed him that he had
won the field, as Modred was now the o.ily
one left of the opposing hosts ; but the King
was not to be dissuaded, and gat his sword
and ran toward Sir Modred, crying, " Trai-
tor, now is thy death day come." Modred
was run through the body, but before he
fell he smote the King so that the sword
pierced the helmet and the brain pan. " And
the noble Arthur fell in a swoon to the
earth, and there he swooned oftimes; and
Sir Lucan and Sir Bedivere oftimes heaved
him up, and so weakly they led him betwixt
them both to a little chapel not far from the
sea side. And when the King was there he
thought himself well eased." Becoming
■ aware of the noise of robbers who had come
to pillage the corpses, the knights deter-
mined to bring the King to some town, but
in the effort to lift him up Sir Lucan died.
Now knowing that his time was at hand, the
King told Sir Bedivere to take Excalibur
and go to the waterside and throw it into
the water, and tell him what he then saw.
Tennyson's account of what followed is
almost precisely the same as that given
by Malory ..." And as soon as Sir
Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge,
he wept and wailed, and so took the forest.'
and in the morning was ware betwixt two
holts hoar of a chapel and an hermitage."
j Sir Bedivere found that at midnight King
I Arthur had been buried in the chapel by the
hermit at the prayer of a number of ladies
who had brought thither die corpse. Here
he resolved to spend all the days of his life in
fasting and in prayer for his lord Arthur.
" and then Sir Bedivere put upon him poor
clothes, and served the hermit full lowly."
Malory states that the hermit " knew not in
certain that he was verily the body of King
Arthur : for this tale Sir Bedivere, Knight
EXPLA NA TOR Y NO TES.
SS9
of tlie Round Table, made it to be written." whirliii!; tliu sweet waters of young love out
He r.oes on to state also that me" say he of their inuiKir cli.iiiueK, sweeping them
sliall come ajjaiii and win the holy cross, into mist, ami castiu}; them iu hail upon
His own opinion, however, is that King the l.uul. Then eomes the dismdl aiitumn-
Aitlmr "chant^ed his lile." | drippinx gloum of the ' Last Tournament,'
The differences between Malory's account
and Tennyson's adaptation should be care-
fidly noted. Nothing will show more clearly
the poet's artistic power.
TiiK Allegory. — Of the Faerie Quceiie,
li.ulitt says, that, "if the readers do not
meddle with the alle{;ory, the alle^jory will
not meddle with them." This criticism is
also a[)plic.ihle to tliu Idylls, but the thought-
ful reader will find an additional source of
pleasure in the interpretation of the poet's
hidden meaning. It must be carefully re-
membered that King Arthur represents a
pure conscience — the divine voice of the
soul (see Introductory, p. lycj). E.ich knight
may be regarded as representing loosely
that peculiar faculty or quality which is his
most marked characteristic. As, liowever,
the woik is above all a poem, it will not do to
press the allegory too closely ; and as Tenny-
son has not forced the realistic narrative,
and has given us only the hint contained in
the lines quoted on p. lyj, dilForent inter-
pretations of some passages may suggest
themselves to different readers. In his poems
generally Tennyson dwells on the elevating
influence of pure wedded love and happy
domestic life: to Guinevere's sin all the
evils that came upon .\rthur's kingdom are di-
rectly traceable, After stating that the body
and its passions gain continually greater
sway over the soul in spite of the Divi'ia
voice, a writer in the Spectator of January,
1870, thus poetically develops the author's
meaning :— " From the sweet spring breezes
of ' Gareth ' and the story of ' Geraint and
Enid,' when the first gush of poisoning pas-
sion burns for a time, and yet passes and
leaves pure a great and simiilo heart, we are
led through 'Merlin and Vivien,' where,
early in the storm, we see great wit and
genius succumb; and through 'Lancelot
and i:laine,' when the piteous early death
o( innocence and hope results from it ; to the
Holy Grail, where we find religion itself
under the stress of it, and, despite the ear-
nest efforts of the oul, blown into mere fan-
tastic shapes of superstition. In ' Pelleasand
Etarre' the storm of corruption culminates,
with its awtul and portentous close. And
then in 'Guinevere' the final lightning
stroke, ami all the fabric of the earthly lile
falls smitten into dust, le.iviug lo the Soul a
broken hc.ut for comiiauy, .md a conviction
that, if in this world only it had hope, it
were of all things most miserable. Thus
ends the Kound Table and the life-long la-
bor of the Soul."
1-3. Sir Bedivere, the "first m.ulo and
l.itest leftofall the knights," m.iy bo taken
to represent the " Will," which as " inQu-
ence" survives the owner. Note particu-
I.uiy the adaptation of 1. 3.
6. Tho battle symbolizes the awfulness
.lad confusion of dc.iih. The wurds " weird"
and " west " harmonize with the idea o( the
soul's departure, tho "wet" representing
the close of life, as the sun sets in the west
at tho close of day.
7. Gawaia is a man of the world— a " man
about town "-light-hearted, fickle, volatile,
pleasure-loving, flashing into tr.uisient fits of
nobleness, and tumbling into pita of selfish-
ness.
8. Poetic truth— Truth is adherence to
fact or re.ility. Poetic truth is adherence to
unity of representation in poetry or inuigina-
tive writing. The author must ob.serve the
consistent interdependence of events that
might be expected if the occurrences were
actual, and the actions of the persons repre-
sented nuist h.irnioni/e wi;h their character
as delineated in the composition.!
27-55. Apply here the Allegorical signifl-
cance, of Sir Bedivere.
29. glamour— .\ charm on the eyes which
makes things seem different to them from
what they really are.
30-32. See Introductory, p. uy), 11. ij-16.
Such as " Arthur's -Se.it " at i;diidjur ;h, md
"Arthur's oven" near Falkirk.
36-41. Modred -The le-end makes Mod-
red som-jlinies th'j son and sonictimos the
nephew of Arthur. He symbolizes the moan-
w
Mi
M
F ill! Hi 11
iM si;
■if
Id,.
560
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
nesses of human nature. " A subtle bca.sl '■
'« "lay couchant with his eyes upon the
throne, ready to .sprin-, waiting for a
chance"; he 'Mulle.l tlie popular praises of
the king with silent smiles of slow di.par-
a."enient"; he "tampered with the lords of
the Wlute-horse, a heathen brood"; he
sought to make disruption of the Table
Round"; "all his aiuis were sharpened by
strong hate for Lancelot "-and he had "a
narrow, foxy face, a hcart-liiding smile, and
^ fe't'^yi persistent eye."
45-48. According to the Romances, Kin-'
Arthur, who is supposed to have flourished
m the sixth cemury, defeated the Romans in
Gaul, subdued all Britain, Irel.uui, and even
Norway and Russia. The Romances paid
little attention to time or place: their heroes
and heromes, no matter of what a-e or
country, were always represented as mediae-
val knights and ladies.
50-51. The Anacoluthon here emphasizes
tlielea.lingideu. The Allegorical meaning
IS evident.
58-60. Lyonesse — Said to be a tract of
country between Land's Lml and the Scilly
L.lcs, now submerged. Probably it re.Uly is
St. Pol de Leon, in Hrittany.
61-62. Conquered races take refuge in re- |
mote or inaccessible places: the Celts, con- ^
qiiered by the Germans, occupy the extreme
west of Europe ; the Basques defended them-
selves in the Pyrenees a-ainst the Celts-
Cornwall might in its turn be the pl.ace of
refuge also for a race conquered by the iji-
vading Celts. It is said that the skeleton re-
ni.uns found in some tombs in Britain belon.'
to a race older than the Celts. See Morlcy's
Ftysi Sketch of Eng. Lit., pp. j-4.
64. It must be remembered that 11. 1-146
were written in 1870, many years after the
rest of tlie idyll (1842), an<l after Tennyson
had lelt Lincolnshire ; but unity of treatment
requires the same character of scenery as
that described in the eariicr portion of the
poem,
70146. The thoughtful reader will see that
this battle-piece has subtle meanings, and
admirably portrays the struggle between the
Eo;iI and death.
145' Excalibur— la the Romance;, each
hero has a swonl, bearing a particular name
andpossessingiii:,.;icali)ioperties. In "The
Coming of Arthur" we are told that the Lady
of the Lake g.ave the King liis huge cross-
hilled sword, whereby to drive the heathen
out. She is described .is being " clothed in
white samite, mystic, wonderful," and as
knowing a ina:;ic subtler than that of ma"e
Meriin. As Arthur sat crowned 011 the dais,
„f. "a mist
Of inceiise curled .about her, and her face
W. s we,, nigh hidden in t!ie minslemloom-
But there w.as heard among tl,e holy ,y,„„s
A voice as of tlie waters, for slie dwells
l)own in a deep, calin, wliatsover storms
r lis ^^° ' ^""^ ^^''°" "'° surface
^^'"Lorf""'^ to walk the waters like our
Excalibur is described in the s.une idyll .-js
having risen from out the bosom of the
lake: —
" m" u Ar'l'ur rowed across and took it- rich
VVith jewels, Jdiin Urim, on the hilt,
bri 'ht'"'^' '"'' """' •'>''-'-"'" •^'•"•'^ "^
That men are blinded by it-on one 'Mv
Graven in the old-t tongue of all iliis
world,
'Take me,' but turn the blade and you
sHall see, '
And writ ten in the speech ye speak your ;e! f
Cast me away I' And sad was Arthur's
t.'ice,
Taking it, but old Merlin counselled him,
Take thou and strike I The time to cast
away
Is yet far off.' "
94. voices Of the dead -Ghost-like sounds
heard on the batilc-ljv.ld.
In the Allegory Excalibur represents Justice,
the Lady of the Lake symbolizing the
Church, which Kives the soul its sharpest
and most splendid earthly weapon.
149- King Arthur's Table-" The Table
Round," according to the legend, was con-
structed in imitation of the one which
Joseph of Arimathoa himself established in
imitation of that used at the Last Supper.
There were thirteen scats round it, and one
was alw.iys vacant, in allusion to the tre icli-
ery of Judas Isc.ariot. Other account , put
the number at fifty, sixty, or more, and, ac-
cording to some, the vacant seat, " the sice
perilous" (see Introductory, p. 215), was
intended for the Holy Grail. The Round
Table came into the possession of Arthur as
the marriage portion of his wife, whose
father got it from Uthor Pendragon, for
who:n i; had been made by Merlin. Taa
£A'/7,. I .v.i roR Y xo rrs.
561
the waters like our
the blade and you
Knights of thoRoun.l Tabic th.it apiioar in
the Idylls are Lancelot, Hohort (or liors),
Gawain, Kay, Modrcd, IVicivalc, Garetli,'
Galahad, I'c'.leas, Bodivero, and Tristram.
153-154- The Britons were Christians at
the time of the English invasion.
16C. Camelot — Arthur's cai)ital on the
Eske, in Wales.
i63. Merlin is tlie prophet and magician
of Arthur's court —
" whose vast wit
And hundred winters are but as the hands
Ot loyal vassals toil Ug for the King."
He represents allcgorically human wisdom,
which, before it faUs beneath the power of
lust (Vivien), is a " loyal vassal " of the soul.
For centuries the people of Brittany and
Wales believed that Arthur would return to
rule a;^ain. When asked as to the (ruth of
the story of " the shining dragon and the
naked cloud descending in the glory of the
sea," Merlin answered in "riddling triplets
of old time," the last of which runs thus:—
" Rain, sun, and rain ! and the free blossom
blows;
Sun, rain, and sun! and where is he who
knows ?
From the great deep to the great deep he
goes."
Th is phase of the Arthurian legend may have
been suggested by the idea ot the millenium
and of Christ's second coming. The alle-
gorical reference is evidently to the immor-
tality of the soul.
169-183. As death draws near, the soul in-
spired by the divine voice, desires to cast
aw,ay every earthly attribute ; but the Will
is weak. Not till Excalibur is thrown away
do the three queens appear,
185. A king as well as a noble had to be
created a knight.
284. Aurora Borealis literally means the
"Northern morn."
I ol Anluir's (-orouitioM ic lis liow, cie "the
luouirut.iry |iUeu^^■,^, nl til.' King" lelt the
f.icesof hi , knights,
"lliro' the cross
.\nd those around it and the crucifK d,
IJown iroin the c.isement over Arthur,
suiote
Flame-color, vert auil azure, in tlircorays,
One tailing upon each ol three I'.ii r iiuccns,
Who stood in silence near his throne, the
friends
Of Arthur, g.izing on him, t.ill, with bright.
Sweet f.aces, who will help him at his
need."
In the Allegory the Queens represent Faith,
Hope, and Charity— "and the greatest of
these is Charity." See i Corinthians xiii. 13.
Observe how admirably in this description
the poet carries out the conception of the
Christian virtues.
399-400. In Book II. of "Paradise Lost,"
Milton describes the empyrean Heaven as
"extended wide
In circuit, undetermined sijuare or round.
With opal towers and battlements adorned
Ot living sapphire ....
And fast by, h.mging in a golden chain
This penilant woi id, in bigness as a star
Of smallest magnitude close by the moon."
And in another passage in the same book,
when describing the creation of the earth,
the Anarch addressing Sata.i, says:--
" Now lately Heaven and Earth, another
world
Hung o'er my realm, linked in a golden
chain
To that wide Heaven from whence your
legions fell."
The thought is adapted from Homer's
"Iliad," Book VHI., where Jupiter defies the
gods to hang a golden chain from Heaven,
and drag him down, whereas he can with it
raise earth and sea. Tennyson employs the
myth to symbolize prayer; Milton, God's
relation to Creation.
413. Referring to the old belief that swans
sing melodiously just before death.
H^
43. Bellicent in her account 'o Leodogran I 43J. See i Corinthians xv. 54, et seq
Sir Galahad.
According to the legend. Sir Galahad was tlie son of Sir Lancelot. In the idylls ho is a
•• wild, unearthly, cometary knight; the monk in armor; slave of his own illusions ; deaf
3nd blind to cvorythin- be .i<!o-, ; a ; :::nnr.tnt of the world ai GaWaln of the soul , a p.'eudo-
MM
562
EX PL A NA TOR Y .VO TES.
-1 s
Curlius, who makes the Riilf he leaps into, and draws clown afler him those who might
else have 'fuliUle.l the boiuulUiss purpose of the king,' and served and saved the com-
monweal with 'crowning common sense.' "
15-16. The oath of knighthood required
the knight to detend the weak and helpless,
especially women and children.
4«. Sir Percivalo describes the Grail is
"The cup, the cup itself from which our T.ord
Drank at the last sad supper with his own.
This troni the blessed land of Aroniat -
After the day of darkness, when the dead
Went wandering over Moriah— the good
saint
Arim.ithean Joseph, journeying brought
To Glastonbury, where the winter thorn
Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our
Lord.
And there a wliile it abode; and, if a man
Could touch or see it, he was healed at
once
By faith of all his ills. But then the times
Grew to such evil tiiat the holy cup
Was caught away to heaven, and dis-
appeaied."
By some it was said to have caught the
blood of our Saviour as He hung on tlie
cross ; and by others to have been brought
down from he.iven by angels and committed
to the ch.uge of knights wlio guarded it on
the summit of a lofty mountain. If ap-
proached by any but a pure and holy person,
it vanished from sight. This led to the
(lucst of the Holy Grail, which was to be
sought on every side by a knight who was
chaste in thought, word and deed. The
tull form of the name is Sangrcal, which is
supposed to be a corruption for Sangtits
n-alis (real blood); but the word ^'ma/ or
grcal in the Langue Romance means a dish.
Allegorically this Quest seems to represent
monk-like or uuu-like devotion to religion.
HUXLEY.
The Scientific Spirit in Modern Thought.
8. the plag:ue — The imperfect sanitary
regulations of olden times, and in many
cases their entire absence, rendered the
plague a chronic source of trouble. In
Elizabeth's time it was very severe, and
before the great Plague there never had
been a time when the large cities were en-
tirely free from it. Only favorable condi-
tions were needed to make it destructive.
13- Defoe— Daniel Defoe (1661-1731) was a
Dissenter, and, as a pamphleteer, took an
active part in the political and religious
questions of his time. His Journal of the
Plague was for a long time regarded as a
true history, so vivid are its descriptions
and so truth-like its general character. His
best known work, however, is Robinson •
Crusoe. While in i>rison for a bitterly ironi- i
cal attack on the enemies of the Dissenteis
in another of his works, he planned The j
Review (1704-1713), which may be regarded
as the predecessor of The Taller and Spec-
tator. (Soe " .\ddison.")
18. mad prayers of fanatics There were
also, Dcfoc tolls us, the prayers cf those.
who, while recognizing the plague as the
result of natural causes, believed in the
existence of a sovereign ruler of the uni-
verse, whom in the calm confidence of faith
amid evils which they could not control,
they besought to avert the dread calamity.
19. madder . . . profligates— One of the
most terrible sights of the time was the
carousing of the profligate class. They car-
ried out faithfully the sinner's injunction,
"Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-
morrow we die."
34- within the city walls— See note on
I. 18, " Wolfe and Old Quebec."
40. Papists — A commemorative column
was erected on the place where the fire
broke out. That part of the inscription
which states that the city had been burned
by the Papists has since been removed.]
91. Royal Society— Sec Green's Short
Hist. 0/ the ling. People, Chap. IX., Sec. L,
"The Royal Society."
94. An event depends for its importance
ill liislory on the number of people ■<•/
RXPLANATOFY NOTES
563
fluences: it may influence a laryc niiinbt,r
for a sliort time, or a comparatively small
nu.'ubur for a long time.
103. spinningr-jenny — This machine for
spinning cotton was invented in i;(i4, by
James Hargreaves, a cotton spinner of Lin-
colnshire. Before then only one or two
threads could be spun at a time : the jenny
spins a very large number
110, possessing . . . value— Useful only
for a special purpose ; useless otherwise.
1 14-128. Throughout' this lecture Huxley
applies the principles of Evolution, a doc-
trine which has influenced every department
of thought during t!ie present century. Ac-
cording to it, all t/ueuomeua of the mind as
well as of matter are but manifestations of
continually active, indestructible ( uergy
which have been evolved acci rding to law
from previous conditions, traceal.e thrcugh
successive steps to the ampler terms from
which they originated. Further, it obliterates
the distinctien between matter and spirit:
matter and orce have produced and can
produce everyt.iing aat exists or may exist.
All our knowlediie it asserts, s derived fro.
experience, which includes not only he
direct impressions on our senses, but such
results from these as may be verified by
science. And further, our h.'.bits, our morals,
our instincts, our language, and even the
faculties of our mind, arc simply transmitted
experience. The statements in the text ')ro-
ceed entirely upon the doctrine of Evolution
in culture. It must be lemembered, how-
ever, that ihis is merely a theory, and is as
yet unproved by any scientific compar.son
of archaoology with history. The Hebrew
Scriptures, our oldest historical record, in-
dicate that man was not left altogether un-
aided in the development of his faculties and
knowledge by contact with nature, but that
he received special instruction fiom nature s
Divine Author. Such is still the belief of
the great mass of Christendom.
128-149. The Jewish Theology, which as
far as it goes, is identical with the Christian,
and is thus entitled to rank, at least, amongst
" the highest theologies," had no such origin.
It was from the beginning a system not
natural, but miraculously revealed. Man's
CQRse of insufficiency with its attendant sad-
ne.ss, is made by Huxley the oriijin of the
conception of Divinity insle.ul of ;i feeling,
an instinct divinely implanted tor the pur-
pose of le.iding man to cast himself upon
the care of a really existing God. Neither
Homer nor any oilier ancient exponent of
religion, favors the subjective origin which
Huxley advocates. They all assert revela-
tion as its source. The passaue (luoted ia
the text is an extract from a " Specinun of
a translation of the Iliad," by Tennyson.
(See "Pope," p. 481.)
164-173- The only revelation of Deity pos-
sible is one comi)rehensible by man, the
highest being of whom man has any contin-
uous knowledge ; hence theology must con-
tain anthropomorphic elements : in other
words, man must understand the nature of
God by means of illustrations borrowed from
ho nature of man. Yet our conception of
d:v.ne causality is distinct from that of the
so-called " Laws of Nature," which nic forces
operating blindly. Divine causality is power
such as man freely exercises over natural
Joyces, making them obedient to his will, but
as inl.'.Mtcly transcending human power as
,',c Divine transcends tne human. It is now
•enorally allowed by the students of ancient
relr'jions tnat the earlier creeds were mora
monotheistic than the later, thus pointin;,' to
an original worship of one supreme being
pervading the universe.
192. beliefs of their fathers— As that the
earth is the centre of the universe, that it is
a plain, etc.
207-208. But .... ideas— The original
study of the phenomena of the seasons and
of the heavens was at first solely for the
purpose of promoting man's welfare —
'bread;" but this study led to the science,
of Astronomy— to " ideas "—to the theory of
the formation and government of the uni-
verse. See Matthew vii. 10.
an. Nature's . . . vacuum— Before the
discovery of atmospheric pressure it was
supposed that water rushed up of its own
accord into the vacuum created by the mo-
tion of the piston in a pump.
226. Count Rumford (1753-1814)— Benja-
min Thompson, was a native of Massachu-
.setts, U. S., who before the outbreak of the
Revolution, studied medicine uad phy^iict
f^\\\m
m
5C4
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
while earnint,' I'is own livelihood. Hav;im'
joined the royal army, he did t;o.-)d service
for the King in various capacities. At the
close of the war he went to liavaria, and
soon rose high in royal favor, exerting liini-
sclf to brin^; about reforms in many direc-
tions, but continuing his investigations in
physics. In the meantime he was created a
count, clioosing his title from Rumford, near
Concord, New Hampshire, where his suc-
cesses had begun. In lyg^ lie visited r.ng-
land, where lie was well received. Various
economical ai)pliances of heat engaged his
attention; but he is especially remarkable
for the experiments on which he founded
the modern theory that heat is a mod.- of
motion. Having observed the heat produ ,1
in the metal of a cannon while it was being
bored, he found that, by rotating rapidly a
metal cylinder in water, sufficient heat was
produced to boil the water. From the con-
ditions of this experiment he inferred that
heat is not matter but motion. (For details,
see Appendix to Chap. II. of Tyndall's Heat
as a Mode 0/ Motion.) This conclusion paved
the way for one of the greatest discoveries
of the nineteenth century—" The conserva-
tion of energy." Count Rumford founded a
professorship at Harvard, and died near
Paris in 1814,
333. "Physick"— See Green's Short His-
tory 0/ Eiiglaiid, Chap. IX., Sec. I., "Begin-
nings of English Science."
240-243. practical eternity— By this Hux-
ley means th:.t the origin of the universe lies
so far back in the past that we can assert no
date for its commencement. Through faith,
however, we understand that the worlds
were framed by the word of God.
249 and 269. man no centre of the living
world . . . man one of innumerable forms
of life- By this Huxley means that man was
not created by God to be the centre, or as
he is more generally called, the head, of the
animal world ; but that in the natural and
general evolution of living iorins. proceeding
from the lowest organisms up to the highest,
he h is been at last produced. This doctrine
of the descent of man from the brute has
been combatted by many even in evolution-
ist ranks; it has no sufficient scientific
evidence ; it is directly opposed to the
Scriptures and all tr.adition ; and utterly
fails to account for man's intellectual, moral,
and spiritual nature.
255 et scq. It is true that animal and vege-
table life, the only life whose manifestation is
patent lo our senses, depends tor this mani-
festation on molecular arrangements. But
the school wliich Huxley represents would
make life a mere arrangement of molecules,
or assert that the laeans of manifestation
are the same as the thing manifested. The
peculiar form of the boiler, with its attend-
ant engine, may be necessaiy to the mani-
festation of steam and its power, but they
are not the steam. The wire or other con-
dition of the manifestation of inyisible elec-
tricity is not the same thing as the electricity.
2;6. loosen men's belief in spontaneity
—Spontaneity, freedom of thought or will,
is the highest attribute of humanity. Phy-
sical science may have caused some men
to doubt it theoretically. Practically, the
whole world of individuals and communities
invariably acts upon a belief in human free-
dom. What is highest in himself, man
naturally attributes in a higher de„'ree to
Divinity, as the absolutely free and sponta-
neous in act. The uniformity of nature,
therefore, is no matter of necessity, but a
benevolent order imposed upon it by its
Creator, for the sake of rational creatures
who depend upon the constant recurrence
of its phenomena for their plans of action.
While belief in free will remains, belief in
spontaneity, extending to miraculous inter-
ference with the ordinary course of nature
must accompany it.
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
565
*•■
BKOWNTNG.
M}' Last Jiiichiss.
"My Last Duchess illustrates Drownins's habit of taking his subject from a forcii-n
espccnily an Italian, source. '
3. Fra Pandolf— /»(i/( Pandulf.
54. Neptune — In Greek mythology, the
god of the sea.
55- Claus of Innsbruck— r/ows of Jims-
brook.
HcrvJ Rill.
Herve Riel-diV-i'n' re-yelt', sometimes in the poem, w/_The measure is xxa in lines of
varying length ; xa feet occur, and occasionally syllables must be shirred. The lollcnviii"
is the scansion of the first stanza:-ist 1., .y,xa; ?nd I., ^xxa; 3rd 1, .,vi<,,- ,th I., 4,v.ivi^
5th l.,jrrt, followed by 3.r.vrt, 6th 1., 2iv,i. The stan/as vary in length. The rliynuM are
irregular, but in most stanzas there will be foun.l at least three lines with the san.o
rhyme; in some, as II. 54, 55, there are no rhymes.
I. Hogrue— See Green's and Thomson's
Histories of England.
8. Da.m(reville—ciahm-fre-veel'.
12-14. Notice here and elsewhere the bal-
lad style— the use of what purports to be the
very words of a speaker, suddenly brcsiking
out in the midst of a narrative, and giving
vividness to the story.
18. Formidable— /())-wic-i/rt/i'6/.
22. slackest -It is " slack tide" when the
water has reached its highest or lowest point
—a quarter of an hour or so before it begins
to turn.
43. Tourville — <oor-t;«/' — (1042-1741) — A
famous French admiral who, before the wa'-
with England in 1688, had distinguished
himself in the Mediterranean and against
the Dutch. In 1690 he defeated the Dutch
and English fleet off" Beechy Head. The
fight endi:i; -.a La Ilogue lasted five d.iys.
His final exploit was a successful attack, in
1693, on an English Uierchant fleet, occasion-
ing great loss to the ICnglish merchants, and
perpl(!x;ty to Willi.iiii III.
4t. Croisickese
of Croisic.
-fC7;'ii/i'-ri<--ccsc— Natives
4^5. Malouins— "i«/-oo-rt»'— The people of
Malo.
4'J'
Grave-
129-130. Referring
the bows of vessels.
to the figure-heads on
132. bore the bell -Piobab'y referring to
the practice of putting a bell on the neck of
the best cow or sheep, making it the leader.
135. Louvre — /c)o!(- — A palace in Paris,
now used as a picture gallery.
CARLYLE.
Friedrich Then and Fricdrich Now.
Bn.oK', OF RFFPRKN-CE.-Brimley's " E'otiays," Morlcy's "Critical Miscellanies," Minio's
••Piose Authors," and Lowell's " My Study Windows,"
PI
566
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
irj
!i| ;!! '
; !
'. 1
2. Sans Souci--S(i/i(ii) soo-sc— A country
palact: niMi- I'oisdam, belonging to the Kinn-s
of Prussia,
6. amphibious Potsdam— Potsdam, a fine
city, is l)iiilt (111 ,111 isl.iiiil at the junction of
the Ncuthe and Ilavel rivers. The neigh-
boring district is low.
10. Viter—fah'-tcr.
13-14. Spartan simplicity— The Spartans
of ancient Greece, especially before the
fourtli century b.c, were noted for the sini-
pHcity of their manners.
16. Agamemnon — Greek legendary his-
tory says that Agamemnon was kin)- of
Mycena9, in the Peloponnesus, and leader
of the united Greeks in their expedition
against Troy (about n.c. 1200). In primitive
times the staff (Greek, skcptron) was the sign
of office.
30. Olympian— In Greek mythology the 1
residence of the Gods was on Mount Olym- I
pus, in north-eastern Greece, between Thes-
saly and Macedonia. The gods were sup-
posed to resemble men, but to surpass tliem
in stature, and majesty and form of feature,
as well as in power.
45. Mirabeau— w«>--rt/i.6o' — (1749-1791)-
Though belonging to the nobility, Mirabeau,
on the breaking out of the French Kevolii-
tion, espoused the popular cause, and was
elected a representative in the National
Assembly, where he soon acquired great
influence by his ability and eloquence. He
desired a constitutional monarchy, and thus
had to oppose both the advocates of des-
potism and the extreme revolutionists,
60. Dr, Moore— The author of " Views of
Society and Manners in France, Switzer-
land, and Germany," published in London,
1779-
65. Just . . . ago-
17, 1786; the "Life"
-Friedrich died August
appeared in 1856.
79-106. See Green's History of England,
" Seven Years' War."
82-91. See Freeman's General History, last
edition.
112. Samson Agonistes — ag--o»-»s'-(««—
Samson, the wrestler, the title of Milton's
drama. See the story of Samson, Book of
Judges, Chap, XIII. ct saj.
Hi. Samuel Johnson (1709-17H4) was horn
at Lichfield. Af;er a life of great hardships,
which hj bore with sturdy indepeiuhnce,
he became literary dictator of his time. His
principal works aic Lives 0/ the Pnets, Lon-
don, a poem, Kussclas, and a series of weekly
essays entitled The Rambler. But his most
famous work is his Dictionary. His Life by
James Doswell is the best biography in our
language. See Prim, of Eiii;. Lit., p. 137.
116-118. The rather . , . wheel— That is,
not dispirited and overcome by his difficul-
ties.
128. meteoric .... coruscations— IClec-
trical phenomena frcqueully precede the
shocks of an earthquake or the eruptions of
a volcano. (For historical references, see
Green's Short Hist. ofthcEnf;. People, " The
French Revolution.")
130. Gabriel Honore Riquetti, Comte de
Mira.bea.u — Kithb-re-ycW on-or-u' re-ket-tc'
coante dc — See note on 1. 45.
I32-I33. the last .... Osiia— In Greek
mythology the old gods Ouranos and Ge
(Heaven and Earth) were dethroned by their
offspring the Titans, the chief of whom,
Chronos (Time), became supreme ruler ; he
in his turn was deposed by Zeus (Jupiter),
his son Zeus afterwards had to sustain a
struggle with the Titans (or Giants) who, in
order to scale heaven and reach their enemy,
piled Mount Pelion on Mount Ossa. Car-
lyle's meaning seems to be, that the old
heroic kings li,id passed away, and that their
place had been taken by able commoners
before the fierce struggles originated by the
French Revolution.
149-150, real , . , . indispensable— This
is, in reality, the leading idea in Carlyle's
" Heroos and Hero Worship."
165, shilling gallery— This has reference
to that part of the theatre, admission to
which costs a shilling. Carlyle means the
common people at large, not the thinking
class.
165-170, This passage is a humorous com-
parison of the character and conduct of the
leaders in the French Revolution, with those
of a burlesque hero in a farce.
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
5^7
167. strength of windpipe— The Rcnerals
and tiovcniiiu lU used Id issue bombastic
biirictiiis ami inoclamations,
169. Jove— The same as Jupiter, the chief
Ro<l in tlio Roman and Greek niytlioloKy;
he alone luirled tlic Ihiindcrbolts.
170. Drawcansir- -"A boaster and a bully
In the Duke of lUickiiiKhani's burlesque of
'/7/c Rehearsal (16^1) ... a urcat hero who
frights hi!; mistress, snubs up kings, baffles
armies, and docs what ho will, without
regard to number, good sense, or justice."
176. Friedrich- See Green's Short His-
tory, and Freeman's General Ilisic^ry,
Gustavus— See note on 1. i, "The Great
Duel."
Cromwell— See "Character of Cromwell,"
pp. 40-5J, and Green's Ilislory 0/ ICiii^laiul.
William the Conqueror — See Green's
Short History of England.
Alexander the Great— See note on 1. 243
of "General Wolfe and Old Quebec."
184. Austerlitz— o»s-(iT-/!7s— A smail town
in Moravia, near which, in 1805, Napoleou
with 80,000 men defeated the combined Rus-
sian and Austrian forces of 84,000 ; the former
lost 1 2,000 and the latter 30,000.
Wagram— A village near Vienna where,
in ihixj, Napoleou with an army of about
iHo.cKX), fought a drawn battle with the Au3-
triaus.
1S7, Rosbach eh as in loch—\ viUaRe in
Prussian Savoy, near which, on November
5, '757. Frederick with an army of 22,ixx)
men ro\itc<l the Trench and Austrlans with
f)0,cxx); only about half of Frederick's troops
were in action. Of the Prussians 165 were
killed, 376 wounded; the French and Aus-
trians lost 3,000 killed and wounded, and
5,000 were taken prisoners.
189. Leuthen—/oi-/i.'/r— A village in Silesia,
Prussia. Ai this pl.icc, on December 5, 1757,
Frederick with 33,000 men defeated an Aus-
trian army of g2,0(X), inflicting a loss of 7,(kx)
killed and wounded, and 21,500 prisoners.
The Prussian loss was about 3,000.
198-200. defended .
Green's Short History.
205. Dick-Turpinism— That is, robbery.
Dick Turi)in was a celebr.ited highw.iyman
in the early part of the eighteenth century.
manage — See
The Taking of the Bastille.
For a concise account of the French Revolution, see Prim, of French History, pp.
102-115.
1-2. thought . . . history— The siege w.is
the first effort of the French when armed
in the cause of freedom. See note on 1.
94 of " The Scientific Spirit in Modern
Thought."
5. Rue Saint Antoine— sawt antwahn'—
St. Anthony Street.
6. Louis Tournay— /oo-«' toor-nay'.
13-14. Pygmies and Cranes— In Greek
legend the pygmies were a race of diminu-
tive people that carried on almost incessant
war with the cranes.
14. Elie— rt-/e' — An ofRcer in the army,
who did his best to save the prisoners at
the BastiJ'e. He left the French Guards in
the attack on the Bastille.
lO. Hulin— oo-/(j/>'(h)— A Gcnevese clock-
maker, who headed the citizens in the attack
on the Bastille; he tried to save De Launay,
but was unsuccessful.
16. Gardes Francais— ffiw/ frahn-saiz' —
French Gu.irds.
17. Place de Greve—plass dc grave' —
Scpiarc of Gr.ivo.
19. Hotel de Ville-o-^7' de vccl'— Town
Hall.
19. Paris . . . burnt— Words supposed to
be uttered to the rulers of Paris at the Hotel
de Ville, on the conclusion drawn by the
mob from the state of the shot.
■ 20. Flesselles— y^cs-sW — The provost or
I mayor ot Pans at the outbreak ot the Revo-
Sli
1' 11
11
|.',;
568
EXPr.AXAroRv xotes.
luflon; hpwns shot in tlic rrowd niter Iho 1
Cipliireof the Hastillc.
24. Tlin I'.irisians iiro very fond, in rases '
or tumult, of crectin,' birriradrs in tlio city.
2fi. Maelstrom-Sou note; on "The Dark
Iluntsuian."
V' Cholat— ■ill o-l„ It'.
2«. Georgret — :/i()»--/,rtv (1; liko r in
"aznro.")
39. Invalides — Old soldiers, pensioners
and inmates of lli,, Invalides llospital-a
liuiidiiiK erected in the roit^ii of I.ouis XIV.,
for the worn-oiit servants of noMi^s, but the
privilege of residence was afterwards ex-
tended to old soldiers,
51. De Launay— rfc lo-tiay —The gover-
nor of the n.istille. On its capture he was
killed by the crowd, notwithstanding the
efforts of Hnlin to save him.
53' Aubin Bonnemere— o-i!irt/i()))6o;i-mrt!>.
57. Raole— rrt-o/c'.
61. Rue Cerisaie— stT-ff::-<iV — Cerisaie
Street.
65. Abbe Fauchet— rtft-6av/o-s/in'— A lib-
eral-minded priest, who took an active part
in the Revolution, exerting himself on the
side of mercy.
74-75. individuals .... catapults — The
catapult was a machine used by the ancient
Romans for throwing heavy stones.
75- SAnterre—sa(ii)-tare'.
83. Maillard-()i(?/i-f-jrt,^_A leader of the
populace in some of its worst acts.
93- Brog:lie—6ra/t-vf' — Occupied several
important positions in the government and
army. He escaped from France.
Besenval — bez-en-va'l - Commander in
Paris for a time, at the breaking out of the
Revolution.
03. Quals -Aviv.
Pont Neuf-Z-.r/i; /u//-New bridga.
in:;. Marat -HKiifi/i'—A native of Swit-
zerl.iiiil, who led an unsettled life in various
countries. On the l)reakin,s' out of iho
French Kevohition he gained yre.i' indiuMice
oyer the lower orders, and .ncited them to
hideous massacres. His newspaper de-
manded the death of htmdred-; of thousands.
Robespiern-, D.mton, and M.irat forniid llu.-
terrible triunivirato whoso ndo was cilled
tlio Re!;;ti of Terror. In April, 1793, Marat
was killed by Charlotte Corday, an event
that caused wholesale bloodshed.
loj. Avis au Peuple — rt-iir« o pu/>! —
"The passionate printed ailvice (to the i)eo.
pIc) of M. Marat, to abstain, of all things,
from violence."
1 10. like . . , Senator- When the Gauls
captured Rome about ii.c. 400, they found
no one in ti.e city but some old senators
sittting quietly in thci. usual seats in the
Forum.
111. Thuriot— <i/-n'-o'— A man of the Marat
stamp, exceedingly cruel, who took an
active part in the Revolution and the Reign
of Terror.
117. canaille— f(j;(-rt/i-f'— Riff-raff, basest
of the people.
120. Basoche— /?rtj-os/('.
I20. Cure— cH-ra^-- A curate.
130. Kaiser — Ai'-rar — German for em-
peror.
143- Chimara— A(m-t'-w — In Greek my-
thology, a fabulous monster that breathed
fire.
146. chamade— s/irt/i-mrtArf'— A parley.
147- Swiss - Swiss mercenary soldiers
were ip the pay of the French king.
152- Dove . . . Arlc— SeeGenesisviii.il,
The dove is the emblem of peace.
I . I
EXPLANATORY XOTES.
5^'9
—Now bridRQ.
-A nativi! of Svvlt.
;ttlc(l lilc ii\ various
■ikiiijj out of iho
iiioJurpa' iniliionca
nd ■ncitej Ihcm to
[is newsp.-iper do-
(Irett-^ of thousands,
(i Marat foriiicd iIk-
)so rule was ciiliid
» April, 1793, Marat
Corday, an event
oodshcd.
— a-vcis o pup! —
advice (to the jx-o.
;tain, of all things,
—When the Ganis
c. 400, they found
some old senators
usual seats in the
Amanoflho^^arat
el, who took an
lion and the Reign
— Riff-raff, basest
irate.
German for em-
'■ — In Greek my-
ler that breathed
h(i'~A parley.
srcenary soldiers
nch king.
26 Genesis viii.ir.
f peace.
GEOKGl-: la.lOT.
Thr Kry to Human I[iif>f<iHt'::s.
Rooks ok Riifrrkntk.— Ilulton's " Kssays" ; Turkcrnian's " Knglisli Proso Fiction."
15-17. she . . . nature- M.i^nic, with her
iinimlsive disposition, rould not endure the
ordinary inatter-of-faot life and the unsym-
pathetic jieople she s.iw around her.
iM. hammered .... Fetish— " This was
the trunk ol a large wooden doll, which oiico
stared with the round("st of eyes above the
reddest of checks; but was now entirely
defaced by a long career of vicarious suffer-
ing. These nails <lriveii into the head com-
ineinorated as many crises in Maggie's nine
years of earthly struggle ; that lu.xury of
vengeance may have been sug'jested to her
by the picture of Jael destroying Sisera in
the old Bible."
35-36. with their .... spirits— Compare
"The music yearning like a god in pain." —
Keats' Eve 0/ St. Agnes, Stanza VII.
44. Telema.que—tay-lay-mahk'—The name
of a book written by the celebrated Fenelon
for the instruction of the Dauphin, son of
Louis XIV., King of France.
72. Smithfield— The place, now included
in London, where those condemned for
heresy were burnt.
77. Eutropius— A Roman historian, who
lived in the fourth century.
78. Virgil — (d.c. 70-19)— The celebrated
Roman poet. His chief works are the
" Georgics," a series of poems relating to
husbandry; and the "iEncid" (c-hc'-iV/), an
epic commemorating the capture of Troy by
the Greeks, the escape and wanderings of
iBneas the hero, and his achievements and
final settlement in Italy.
156. Spectator— See " Addison."
157. Rasselas -Sie note on I. 113, "Fried-
rich Tlu 11 .lud 1 1 ii'druh Now."
139. Christian Year— Or, "Thoughts in
vcrs(!f(U the .Sund.iys anil Holidays tlu()Ut;h-
out the Year," by John Kebia, publishi<i in
1827. A deep a td tender religious feeling
pervades the poems, and .111 intense 1ov(! for
all that pert.iins to home.
iCto. Thomas a Kempis -(13H0-1471)— A
monk in an .\ugustiiie convent in the iliucese
of Utrecht. He is tlu' supposed author of a
work called " On the Imitation of Christ."
26j-2f)V not written . . . stones— Thomas
a Kempis Jilt what he wrote : he was a fel-
low-suffer, not one who, at ease himself,
counselled patience to those who wore in
sorrow.
271-310. The satiric tendency here mani-
fested has been attributed to the influence
exercised over the author by Thackeray's
works. G<!orge Kliot expresses her scorn of
those people who think it vulgar to hold and
express deep convictions.
28a. Faraday— (1791-1867)— Michael Fara-
day from the humbh-st position in life rose
to be one of the foremost chemists and
natural philosophers of the century. His
discoveries were many and important, and
his works on scientific subjects arc of the
highest value. His lectures, attended by
all classes of society, were singularly clear,
even when dealing with the most abstruse
matters.
296-311. The life of toil and hardship and
suffering needs some offset, some relief; one
finds it in the excitement attending the use
of intoxicating liquors ; another, in enthu-
siasm for doing good.
u
'\i'>'' III
57"
EX PL A AM TOR y Xo TES.
.'•■=..!
DICKENS.
TlitJ Last of the spirits.
Books OP Referencb.— Driinlc-y's "livvavs"- Tucket rn„.'- "P„, I- 1 n ,- .
4- gloom and mystery— These, foKcilier
withilioahsoliiia silcnco pruservod by the
Phtuitoin on all occasions, aro fypic.il of tlu'
future it tells us notliitiK', hut I.mv<>s us to
ima«iiie what m^o' ho ; the j.ist may speak,
hut is beyond recall ; the fuluro is in out-
own Inn.is, wo ran shaiH! it as wo will, as
far as depends on ourselves.
37 '' s<?. Dickens is .i perfect master in
his control over our emotions ; by the enu-
meralion of these loatlisotno sights our dis-
Kust is fjr.adually aroused fill it reaches its
hei'ht in the hideous scene in the shop,
where the almost diabolical talk and lauKli-
ler of the woman who brought the shirt and
curtains aro parti.illy excused by li<;r refer-
ence to the character of the plundered, dea.l
ni.an. The same sK II is shown in each of
the transitions to o, 1. or scenes- the s(,m'',m1
cry of Scrooge (11. iS; 184) on finding hunselt
infhedim, 'eserted room of the dcd man,
prepares us for the horror of the sr ue with'
the n: ulliuKly suggestive sound made by
the 1 ai at the door and the rats beneath the
hearth ; the first word of introduction to
Boh Cratchifs house puts us in a mood for
the full appreciation of the exquisite tender-
ness of the scene in that bereaved home.
! a.»r. See Mark ix. 36. Tiny Tim's sup-
I pose<l death is inteu(h-.l to he a contrast to
j that of Scioog('.
27,1-273. They .... wife -Tho reference
I IS, no doubt, to the bu, I of Tiny Ti,,, ,,u
I Sunday -Iho father had been to order the
digging of iho grave.
284.290. Tiny Tim's body was lying in the
room.
201-335- Dickens was a keen observer c(
life; ho knew well how closely merriment
borders on grief,
388. Laocoon-Za-o'-co-on-The Greek le-
gend of tho s.icking of Troy, relates that
I.aoroon, a priest of Neptune, was kiiied
with his two sons by being crushed to death
in the folds of two huge serpents.
221-225. The reference is to the. not well
founded belicfth,at cats and rats readily dis-
cover the presence of a dead body, and arc?
eager to get at it.
^r,r,. Walker -A slang word expressing
utter incredulity.
476. Joe Miller -An actor of low comedy
m the c.uly part of List century, noted for
Ins wit off tlio stage .as well .as on it. A col.
lection of jokes attributed to him was pub-
lished in 1739,
^^ 401. Camden Town-One of the numerous
"suburbs" forming a part of London.
5I4-52I- The benevolent man can find a
source of pleasure in anything; it is but a
rcfl. X of his own wish to give pleasure to
others.
THACKERAY.
Charity and Humor.
.,°°°?,''L'';"':;'''''"=^:-^''^'^-'« "J^'-ay^"; Senlor-s "Essays on Fiction". Tucker.
Z^^:J2'1:' "ThoW^v""' fw'^l'"^"'' ' "• "^"^'''*^ ^'•^" °f Letters Series";
1 lie VVi itmgs of W. M. Thackeray."
l,e->lie Stepheas
EXPLA SA TOR Y XOTIuS .
57J
ish Prosn Piction"-
"; "Monograph" in
. Tiny Tim's sup-
to 1)0 ;i coairast to
rife— Thu rcf(!ronro
I I of Tiny Tim on
been (o Older the
Jy was lying in the
I keen obsorver of
closely luuiriment
»'«— The Greek le-
Troy, relates tliat
ptiine, was kliied
g crushed to death
:rpcnts.
word expressing
or of low comedy
;entury, noted for
1 as on it. A col-
I to him was pub-
e of the numerous
af London.
man can find a
hiuK'; it is hut a
give pleasure to
:tion " : Tucker,
.etters Series";
4). Rev. Laurence Sterne -(i7i3-i7''S) —
Was Netliod iiH a cierKyinail in Yorkslilrc,
but nrver obtaliird any di itinction in tliis
r.ipacity. In 1759 appiMrcd the first two
viiluuicsof his first book -I'li^tram Shandy
—which was nimpli'led in i;*")'. It attaintil
Krrat popularity. Some volumes of scMinons
followed, and then his other work, The Sen-
fimcntitl Joiiritty, Unelo Toby in Tristram
Sluiiiily is one of the finest rompliments ever
p.ild tothehum.in rare; he is the most uii-
affcndiiii; of Ccxl's rrcitures ; hi) is "the
.■juinicssenro of the milk of liuman kind-
ness." The story of Lefevre, another ch.ir-
leter in tho same book, is told with extreme
pathos. Sco Literature Primer, Chap. VII.,
pp. I23-I2(.
5(). Rennes ->(j(i.
fit. Swift— Jonathan Swift (i(j<)7-i745) w.is
born in Dublin, but of English parents. Tho
dependent position of his yontli exerted a
b.incful inflii ■ i)i:o on his n.itur.illy proud dis-
po ,1. Oil lc.ivin>4 collek'O ho became
secretary to Sir William Temple,— another
position of dependence. Diss.ilislied with
his treatment by the Whites, he joined tho
Tories in 1710, and took an active part in the
political war of the <lay. He was buried in
St. I'atrick's Cathedr.il, Dublin. See Liter-
ature Primer, Chap. VI., Sees. 115, 116, 117.
6(. he chisels .... tombstone — Swift
composed an inscription for his own tomb-
stone, the first sentence of wliirli runs :-~
" III re is pl.iced tf boily of Jonath.an Swift,
Dean of this Cathedral church, where tierce
indignation can no more rend his heart."
76. Stella— The pet name sivon by Swift
to Miss Ksthcr Johnson, whom he married
privately in 1716.
77. Lady Masham — Sec Green's or
Thompson's History of England,
90-91. Addison . . . spoken— See " Addi-
son." Thacker.iy had delivered a lecture
on ,\ddison previous to delivering the pre-
sent one.
96. use .... gentleman— "Wha; is it to
be a gentleman ? Is it to have lofty aims, to
lead a pure life, to keep your honor virgin ;
to have the este-rn of yc.:-,r frllo-.v-.-it-^.'^n';
and the love of your friends ■ to bear good
fortune meekly; tosufferevilwithconstancy ;
and thrcuKh evil or tSPcA to maint.iin truth
.ilw.iys? Show nie the happy ni.ui whoso
life cxhiliits these ipi.ilities, .md him we will
s.tluto a Kciilhinan, wh.ilever his rank m.iy
be." -Th.arker.iy, Cmnxe IV.
J07. Broadway
street 111 New Vol k.
Tliiii the f.ishionabli!
io,S. Pall-MttU -/x//-"!.//— A fashi..n..ble
street in London, tlie homo of thi; clubs.
1 1 2. Sir Roger dc Coverley— See " .Nddi-
I15-127, The scene of Thackeray's iiovi I,
Ihiiiy Eimond, is laid in the times of (,)ueen
.\nne.
1 2S. Steele — Richard ' teelo (1671-1729)
was horn in Dublin. Hi, father w.is of an
ICnglish family, his mother of an Irish one.
Steele's disposition w.is impulsive, tender,
and hearty ; Ms fancy wiis bright ; his humor
most gcni.i' and his wit had no bitterness in
it: ho loved all mankind. Unforlun.ilely
for himself, his reckless improvidence
brought on him much misery, and nioro
th.m once he w.as in a debtor's prison or in
hilling from the bailiff. His wife preserved
his letters, and it is in these that his Uue
character may be seen. He was at various
times in the army, in tho civil service, and
in parliament ; but ho was always a writer.
His defencQ of the House of Hanover and
tho Prnlestant Succession led to his expul-
sion fi 1 im the Commons by the Tory major it;- ;
but ho was again a member after the acces-
sion of George I., by whom ho was knighted.
He wrote The Chriitian Hern ; tho comedies
Grief a la Mode, The Tender Husband, The
Conscious Lovers, and The Lying Lover. See
Primer of Literature, Chap. VII., Sees. 115,
116, 121.
133. Captain Coram — Thomas Coram
(1668-1751), an ICnglish philanthropist, who
began life as a -eam.in, rising to be cap-
tain of a men ntinan. After living for a
time in America, he returned to ICnHlanil,
and succeeded in establishing an hospital for
foundlings (1740). On this .TJid other similar
charitable institutions he spent all his for-
tune.
137-159. Before . . . Nature— Sec I,t<era-
ture Primer, Chap. VI., Sec. 109.
h
t !
572
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
\i
142. cothurnus -The cothurnus, or bus-
kin, was a kind ot half boot lacing tight to
the let;, often with thick soles for the pur-
pose of increasing the height of the ..-earer.
It was also worn by ancient tragedians, and
hence "cothurnus" is often used for "tra-
gedy," as the " soccus," or low-heeled light
shoe, is for "comedy."
161. motley disgruise-In the old
dramatic representations the "Vice" or
clown was a character that made sport for
the audience, often by satirical remarks on
persons and things. The clown of the mod-
ern crcus, in dress, at least, is the successor
^ of the "vice." SeePrm.o/E„s.Lit..p.fS.
162-166. mingling: .... increased -By
means of ordinary literature, the humoris.
would have a wider audience and be more
generally understood than if he expressed
himself m plays, or in disguised satire.
167. Don Quixote-The famous work of
the Spanish author Cervantes (,547-16.6),
one of whose intentions in writing it was to
put an end to the taste for romances of
chtvalry then regarded as true pictures of a
former age.
168. GuUiver-Pce " Swift," above.
169. Jonathan Wyld-A novel by Field-
ing, published in 1743, and founded on the
hfe of a notoiious highwaymen. "In that
strange apologue the author takes for his
hero the greatest rascal, coward, traitor
tyrant, hypocrite, that his experience in this
matter could enable him to devise or depict •
he accompanies this villain through all the
actions of his life, with a grinning deference
and a wonderful mock respect, and does not
leave him till he is dangling at the gallows
• • . A satire like this strips off the spurious
ornaments of hypocrisy and shows the
beauty of the moral character."_r/,«f*^m;..
177. AUworthy — A country squire of
amiable and benevolent character in Tom
Jones, the most famous of Fielding's novels
(I749).
Dr. Harrison-A character in Fielding's
Amcha (1751). "Amelia pleads for her hus-
band, Will Booth: Amelia pleads for her
reckless, kindly old father, Harry Fielding-
It IS from his own wife that ho (Fielding)
drew this most charming character in Eng-
lish action."— Thackeray.
178. Parson Adams— A curate in Field,
mg's yoscph A ndreu>s.,"\The worthy parson's
learning, his simplicity, his evangelical
purity of heart and oenevolence of disposi-
tion, are so admirably mingled with
pedantry, absence of mind, and the habit of
gymnastic and athletic exercise, that he
may be safely termed one of the richest
productions of the Muse of Fiction. "-Sco//.
184. Blifil-A hypocritical character in
Fielding's Tom Jones.
187. Sophia-Sophia Weston, the lovely
and charming heroine in Tom Jones.
188. Fielding:-(i707-i754)_ Harry Field-
ing, though connected with the aristocracy
of England, had to win his own way in life
He first tried writing for the sta-e, but
abandoned it for the law. This failing, ha
wrote political pamphlets, till the appear-
anceof Richardson's "Pamela" turned his
attention to novel-writing. Joseph A ndrcws,
his first book, was intended to ridicule
Richardson. His position as Justice of (he
Peace, as well as the scenes and associates
of his own wild life, furnished him with
many of the characters he so vividly de-
scribes. See works, etc., mentioned above ■
AhoPnmero/ English Literature, pp. 128-129!
196. Olivia-The eldest daughter of the
vicar in the Vicar of Wakefield.
198. Moses-The second son of the vicar
m The Vicar of Wakefield.
213-214. whUe each neighbor's -
While singing A utd Lang Syne.
236. fons lAchrymnrum-lac k-re-ma'r-um
—"The fountain of tears."
236-237. strikes . . . sparkle-An allusion
to the striking of the rock by Moses in the
wilderness.
239-240. pompous old urn-The urn, used
in ancient times to hold the ashes of the
dead, is the emblem of mourning or death
In tragedy, the issue is generally fatal ; and
such themes are more earnest than those of
other varieties of the drama. Hence the
epithet applied Ij Thackeray to Tragedy.
264-266. As for monstrous-Refer.
ring to the statement of phrenologists that
the inequalities on the surface of the skull
indicate certain features of character— the
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
573
"bump" at the back of the head indicatMiR
" philoprogenitivcnuss," or love of children.
269. Nicholas Nickleby — See p. 278.
Squeers is the Yorkshire schoolmaster;
Crummies is the theatrical manager ; and
the Phenomenon is the young son of Crum-
mies.
306. The Marchioness and Swiveller are
characters in Dickens's OU Curioiity Shop.
See p. 278.
307. Oliver Twist— See p. 278.
310. Sairey Gamp— Sec p. 270. " She is
coarse, greedy, inhuman, jovial — prowling
around young wives with a hicr, and olil men
with a look, that would f.iin l.iy them out."
She makes continual reference to her mys-
terious friend, Mrs. Harris. " There ari^ not
many things of their kind so living in fiction
as this nightmare."
314. Micawber A character in Dickens's
DcniU Coppcrfnlti, who has firm faith in
" something turning up." See p. 279.
I son of the vicar
neighbor's —
MACAULAY.
The Impeachment of Warren Hastings.
Books of Reference. — Monograph in "English Men of Letters Series"
" English Prose Writers" ; Trevelyan's " Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay."
Minto's
19, The Semitic nations write from right
to left ; the Chinese and Japanese in columns
from top to bottom ; the ancient Mexicans,
from bottom to top.
20-24. according . . . Oude— See Green's
Short History, Chap. X., Sec. IL," Warren
Hastings," and " India in the American
War"; Sec. IIL, " Trial of Hastings."
28 Bacon— See Green's Short History,
Chap. IX., Sec. i, " Lord Bacon."
29. Somers — John, Lord Somers (1651-
1716), a celebrated Ei;„lish statesman, prom-
inent in the exciting times in which he
lived. He was counsel for the seven bishops
in 1688, and subsequently filled several of
the highest offices in the state, becoming
lord chancellor and a peer in 1697. In 1700
he was removed from the chancellorship,
and arraigned before the House of Lords for
his share in the Partition Treaty, but the
charge was withdrawn. He afterwards re-
covered his influence at court.
29. Stafford— See Green's Short History,
Chap. VIII., Sec. III., IV., V.
32. High Court of Justice— See Green's
Short History, Chap. VIII, Sec. IX— "The
King's Death."
37. king-at-arms— The principal heraldic
offi "{ir : hs re"ul.i*e'^ *h'j arms of '?ccrs and
the Knights of the Bath. The garter king-
at-arms attends upon the knights of the
garter at their solemnities, marshals their
funerals and those of royal personages, and
performs other duties of a ceremonial char-
acter.
41-42. earl-marshal . . . The office of earl-
marshal, in feudal times, was one of great
importance. At present its duties are con-
fined to matters relating to pedigrees, coats
of arms, etc. The office is hereditary in the
family of the dukes of Norfolk.
43-44. Prince of Wales — Afterwards
George IV.
55. Siddons— (1755-1831)— Mrs. Sarah Sid-
dons, the renowned actress, was the daugh-
ter of an actor named Kemble, who look
her on the stage when she was a mere
child. Previous to 1782 she had been only
one season on the London stage. In that
year she returned, and henceforth was re-
garded as the greatest actress of her time.
In tragedy she has never been equalled in
Great Britain. Her great impersonation
was Lady Macbeth.
57. historian . . . Empire — Edward Gib-
bon (1737-1794) passed his early life partly in
England and partly in Switzerland. He
was a very close student an<l his retentive
memory enabled him to store up an almost
ni
mim
i'j
! I
' I'!, 'i I .
5H
Explanatory notes.
incredible amount of knowledge. His great
work is the Decline and Full of the Jioman
nmpne, wliich appeared in 1776, and was
completed in 1787.
58. Cicero— See note on line 300, " The
Union of the Provinces."
59- Verres-i^n^-ms_Thc infamous Ro-
m,-in governor of Sicily (n.c. 73-71). it is
-said tliat his extortions and plundering did
more harm than two wars. On tlie expira-
tion of his office lie was accused by the
Sicilians, who employed Cicero to cvAnci
Ihe prosecution. Verrcs was condemned
and spent the rest of his life in exile.
59-60. before .... freedom- For the
position of tlie Roman Senate after the
establ.ihment of the Empire, see Schmit^'
A iicient H:story.
77-iiu- And there . . . Devonshire —The
reference is to the celebrated election can-
vass, when the Duchess of Devonshire and
other ladies bribed with a kiss some of the
electors to vote for Fox.
78. Fox — See Green's
Chcip. X., Sec. III.
Short History,
60-61. Tacitus . . . Africa-T.icitus was
appointed one of the prosecutors of Marius
Roman governor of Africa (a.d. 99). See
note on " Tacitus » under " Agricola," p. 59.
63. Reynolds-Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-
1792) early manifested a decided taste for
pamting, and was put by his father under
the best portrait painter of the time. He
spent three years studying the mastor-
pioces in various cities of Italy. In 1752 he
returned to London, and his reputation was
soon established. When the Royal Academy
was founded (1767) he was elected president.
He lived on intimate terms with the leading
men of the time.
C6. Parr-Samuel Parr, LL.D. (1747-1825)
was a noted scholar in his day, though he
has left but little trace of his influence. His
conversational powers were great, and his
reputation is said to be largely owing to
this gift.
70-72, There . . . faith-The allusion is
to Mrs. Fitzherbcrt, to whom the Prince of
Wales (Geo. IV.) was devotedly attached.
Had the prince been permitted to marry
her, his private and public life might have
been vastly better.
77- Mrs. Montagne(i72o-iSoo)— ..wealthy
lady of literary tastes who became a leader
in London society, and made her home the
resort of literary men. She is best known
by her volumes of " correspondence,"
112. Pitt— See Green's Short History.
118. Lord North— See Green's Short His.
lory.
124. Great. . . eloquence— This age may
be said to have begun with Pericles aoout
u.c. 450, and reached its highest develop,
ment with Demosthenes (died b.c. 322). See
Schmitz' Ancient History.
125. Sheridan— Richard Brindley Sheri-
dan (1751-181C), one of the greatest orators
of his day, began his literary life with the
comedy The Rivals, which after a time
establislied its author's reputation. The
School for Scandal (1777) is liis chief work,
and still keeps its hold on the stage. Of
his other dramatic works. The Critic (1779),
a clever farce, is the best. In 1780 Sheridan,'
through the influence of Fox, entered parlia-
ment, and did good service for the Whig
party and its great leader.
125. Demosthenes— rf(;-mos'-//i<r».«— (B.C.
385-322) An Athenian, the greatest of the
ancient orators. His life was passed in
constant endeavors for the good of his coun-
try. Tlie history of his life is the history of
Athens at that period ; so intimately was he
associated with public aflFairs. His charac-
ter is v^orthy of all praise ; he was able,
brave, pure, and disinterested.
125. Hyperides-^t-/ic>-.t'-As— A renown-
ed Athenian orator, contemporary of Demos-
thenes. Like the latter, he exerted himself
in the cause of Greek freedom, exciting the
Athenians, both by his eloquence and by his
example, to oppose the designs of the Mace-
donians. His mai'erpiece is the funeral
oration he delivered over his countrymen
who fell in the "Samian" war. He was
killed by Macedonian emissaries.
126.138. ignorant .... hearers — Burke
was termed the " dinner-bell " of the House,
owing to the dep.irture of so many members'
when he rose to speak. See " Burke." pp.
4(3-44'!-
•yf^
EXPLAXA TOR Y NO TES.
575
Short History,
134. Windham — Tlie RIkIu Hoiioniblo
William Wiiuiliaiu (1750-1810), oil ciitcrijit!
political life, opposed tlie adii\inI.stnition of
Lord North, but became a nioinbcr of thu
famous" coalition govcrnmont." Aftenvai'ds,
he joined Burke and Pitt ia opposing the
French Revolution. At a later time, wlieil
a member of Pitt's governmt^nt, he brought
forward a measuri: of radical reform in the
army, which was passed after a severe
struggle. Windham was an excellent
speaker, " his eloquence was the most insin-
uating that was ever heard in the Mouse of
Commons." All parties held him ia high
esteem.
150. Charles, Earl Grey— (i764-i845)—Kn-
tered parliament in his twenty-second year,
and from th.it time forw.ud ttx)k an active
part ia all ixjlitical, and in many social,
movements. His exertions on behalt of
reform, good government, and liberty, can
hardly be over-estimated. The Reform
bill of 1831-3, and the great measures follow-
ing its adoption, were largely due to his far-
seeiug statesmanship and his philanthropic
character. " .\ more honorable man never
tixititod. Amoral ilignity stamped his every
.ictioti, and over his truthfulness no cloud
ever passed."
173. hostile Chancellor— Lord Thurlow.
i7*-'73' for . . . defendant -Thiswastha
confession of Hastings himself.
i
WORDSWORTH.
Books ok Ricff.rence.— Shairp's "Aspects of Poetry," "Studies in Poetry and Philo-
sophy," and "On Poetic Interpretation of Nature"; Monograph in "English Men of
Letters Series"; Hutton's " Essays " ; Brimley's and Massou's "Essays"; Main's"Trea-
sury of English Sonnets."
The Ode.
The metre is irregular, and varies in character according to the poet's mind. By
observing the accents, each line may be easily scanned. Thus with the first stanza:—
The ist lino is s.va,- the 2nd, ^xa; the 3rd, 2xa; the 4th, 4.m; the 5th, 5.1(1; the 6th, s.vit;
tho7th, 3.vrt; the8th, 2.va; and the 9th, 6v(i.
4-5. In regard to this ode Wordsworth
says:—" Nothing was more difficult for me
in childhood than to admit the ide.i of
death as applicable to my own being. I
have said elsewhere :
' A simple child
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb.
What should it know of death ? '
But it was not so much from the source of
animal vivacity that my dilficulty came, as
from a souse of the indomitableness of the
spirit within me. I used to read over the
stories of Enoch and Elijah, and almost
persuade myself that, wh.itpver might be-
come of others, I should be transl.ited in
sonething of tho same way to heaven.
Wi h a feeling congenial to this, I w;is often
unable to think of external things as being
cxtci-nal existence, and I communed with
all that I saw as something set apart from,
but inherent in, my own immaterial nature.
Many times while going to school Iwive I
{jrasped a wall or tree to recall myself from
this abyss of idealism to the reality. At
that time I was afraid of mere processes.
In later periods of life, I have deplored, as
we have all reasons to do, a subjugation of
an oi)posite character, and have rejoiced
over the remembrances, as expresse<l in tho
lines 'Obstinate Questionings, etc' To
that dreamlike vividness and splendor,
which invests objects of sight in childhood,
everyone, I believe, if ho would look b.ick,
could bear testimony, and I need not dwi'll
upon it here." Referring to the Platonic
doctrine of prenatal existence, ho adds,
" ' Archimedes said that ho could move the
world if he had a point whereon to re^t his
machine.' Who has not felt the same aspira-
tions as regal I i the world of his own minil ?
Having to wield some of its tienuii s whim
I was comixlled to write this poem on
' The Immortality of the Soul,' I took ': ' '
hi
fir
ii:
f' I
576
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
of the notion of pre-existence as Iiavint;
sufficient foundation in humanity for author-
izing me to make the best use of it I could
as a poet."
25. Even the "cataracts" share in this
general joyousness.
a8. fields of sleep— The sleeping country
that surrounds him.
36. The " shepherd boy" feels his kinship
to the Spirit that pervades Nature.
41. coronal — (Lat. coro'ita) — At feasts
among the Greeks and Romans the guests
were often crowned with garlands.
59. An interval of nearly two years inter-
vened between the writing of what follows
and the preceding stanzas. Our birth . . .
forgetting -Since we have no recollection
of our prenatal existence. Observe that
in I. 63 we are told that there is not "entire
forgetfulness."
61. Setting — The end of the prenatal
phase of existence.
72. the east— The metaphor is taken from
the sun's course.
73. Nature's Priest -The boy has a closer
connection and more direct communication
than the man with the Spirit that pervades
Nature.
86-108. The poet now describes the con-
duct of a child which anticipates in its play
some scene from what it expects its future
life to be. In the next stanza he asks why
it should thus " provoke the years to bring
the inevitable yoke," when its childhood is
attended by the " vision splendid,"
104. "humorous stagi"— The stage in
which are exhibited the "humors," or odd
fancies and caprices of mankind.
105. Persons -(Lat. perso'na)— The char-
acter in a play. The poet refers to the fact
that children often imitate in play the con-
duct of their elders.
m. best Philosopher — Cf. 11. 1:6-117-
The blind are those who, when grown up,
do not see the " celestial light." The child
is the " eye," for he can sec it ; but the sense
employed is sight ulunc ; uor do his feelings
find vent in wirJs.
114. haunted qualifies " that "— cf. p. 337,
II- 35-39-
115- Mighty Prophet I — Observe that
"prophet" means here simply one "in-
spired."
123. thy being's height— The child's con-
dition is the highest phase of its spiritual
existence.
130. The glow of the celestial fire has de-
parted ; its " embers " only are left.
142-148. See quotation in note on 11. 4-5 —
The " .allings from us, vanishings" occur in
those conditions of mind in which everv-
thing seems unreal, v.'hcn life seems but "a
dream within a dream."
162-168. Man's life is compared to a jour-
ney from the sea-coast into the interior.
The ocean is the other world which the
child has left. At the o\itset he sports upon
the shore. He still recognizes, but without
realising its value, his kinship to the spiritual
world. When in earnest moods, the man
has glimpses of this higher world — ho Is
transported, as it were, to the shore of the
oce.in, where he sees " the children sport
upon the shore," that is, he experiences the
same feeling as children to whom every
common sight is "apparelled " in " celestial
light."
187. The reflections in 11. 176-187 show
" the philosophic mind."
191-200. The " one delight " he has relin-
quished is that childhood's "heaven that
lies about our infancy " and makes all nature
lovely. But instead of that, he now lives
under the habitual sway of Nature, not in
reality inanimate to him (11. 78-85). Hence, he
says, that while he can still enjoy the " inno-
cent brightness of the new-born Day." yet
also has he learned by experience to read
the lesson of mortality which the close of
day with its setting sun seems to teach.
According to some, 1. 200 is to be interpreted
thus : " We have thus been pr ceded by an
elder generation, or by a previous stage of
existence, and it has won its own triumphs."
Better paraphrase it thus: "After my first
joyous experiences of childhood, with all its
heaven-born triumphs ; other palms are
wo!i also in this later stage of life, in which
I .'^sr.hrsni'c. the lessons of the bright dawn
for the soberer teachinjs of the dying day."
EXI'LA NA TOR Y A'O TES.
Yarrow Vtivhitcd.
577
Yarrow is tl... subject of n.any old ballads ol ^reat b.a.i.y an.l ..xquisilo pathos, such as
Willie's Drowned in Yarro,. ; The linu, o Yarnnc ; and ..si-ccially the ouo bc,'.nni.:w,
" Husk ye, busk yo, my bonnic, bounio bride,
Uusk ye, busk yc, my winsome Marrow.
6. "winsome Marrow"-" Lovely swuct-
Uoirt."
33. holms— The wooded lands adjoining
the banks of the river.
35. Fair
old b.lll.ld.
rock- -A quutation fion; an
8. Braes— Steep banks. The places men-
tioned are all in the Border-land.
17. Leader Haughs — Low, small mea-
dows on the Leader.
21 Teviotdale-This place was the scene 3.-1. iuuioub..-. —. • • ...
of niany of the old legends a.ul stories of] but variations of the sau.e word: compatc
Border life. \ thoroughfare.
37. strath -.\ n.irrow valley.
3S. thorough-TVioroior/i and through are
m
176-187 show
Sonnets.
BOOKS or REFEREKCE-Leigh Huttfs •• Book of th. Sontu^t " ; Dentus's " l^ntj;;;*; S^^;
nets •• and " Studies in English Literature " ; and Main's '• Treasury ot Lnghsh bo.utets.
The invention of the Sonnet is attributed to Fria, Guittonc, of Arezzo, in 102, but
Petrarch (■,04-1374) was the ftrst poet to use it largely. It has always been a favor, e
form with talia. poets. The Uarl of Surrey, or. according to sonu., the poet Wyat .
° od" d it into England. Shakespeare also wrote sonnets, but the only po.nt m wind
ey r .-^ble the Italian is their consisting of fn.rteen lines. Milton's are m str.ct
accoulance with the Italian model. The Sonnet consists of two parts, an oetave and a
,,stette] each line bei.tg ,xa, the octave (or eight lines) consisting of two luat^^"^ ••;"'!
the ses ette (or six lines) of two tercets (three lines). The > ubject .s supposed to be stated
the first quatr,aiP, illustrated in the second, applied in the first tercet, and the whole
suntnted up in the second. In the octave there should be but two rhymes : .„ the ses ette
r o n,ay be two or three. The rhymes should be arrange.l so that there are two outs.de
1 ., two inside, thus, abba, and abba. The rhytne in the sestette .nay be '"l-^ «*;-;'
ahc, or ababab, or ababcc. Of these arrangements the first is the most usual. I-or detim-
lion, see (4. II., 3)
Sonnet I. is descriptive.
4-5. Like .... morning
civ., 2.
• See Psalm
6 8. lie ... . air— London, owing to its
Sonnet II. is a " single phase of feeling."
2. Getting .... powers -The struggle
for wealth, or power, or fame, so absorbs us
that our ability to perceive a.ul enjoy the
beauties of nature is destroyed.
9-13. To idealize Nature as the Greeks
did is better than to have no love whatever
for Nature,
itninonsc size and innumerable factories,
seldom has a clear atmosphere: were it
otherwise the city would be always "open
to the fields and sky."
Proteus
NN
-pro'-tiicc—Ux the Greek .ny-
thology Proteus was a sea-divinity having
an aln'ost unlitnited power of transfort.ia-
tion. He is an idealization of the ceaseless
changes of the ocean.
14. Triton — Tn'-foii — An itiferior sea-
divinity, usually represented as blowing a
i hor.i consisting of a curled sea-shell. He is
i an idealization of ocean storms.
■i .
- 1
f -i r
'5 t}
Hi! i
m I
^ 1
111
578 E-YPL/IiV^rOiii' NOTES.
COLERIDGE.
r/»<: /?/;»f 0/ the Ancient Mariner.
Books of Reference.— Swinburne's "Essays and Studies"; Shairp's "Studies on
Poetry"; and Hazlitt's "English Poets."
The stanza is usually a quatrain (four lines), rhyming only in the second and fourth
lines; middle rhyme (see note on "The Maple") is, liowever, very common, especially in
the third line of the stanzas. It adds much to the melody of the verse, and is often used
with startling effect, as in 1. 6i.
8. May'st— In this case the " st " is really
the second personal pronoun, though its
force as such is unfelt.
36. Minstrelsy— This is tl e old meaning
of the word— a number of muLicians.
55. clifts = clefts ; but it m,- y mean cliffs.
57. ken— See or perceive ; now usually
employed in English as a noun.
6z. Like .... swound !— Persons in a
swoon are said to hear :oud and even terri-
ble noises. The form " swound " is common
in Norfolk and Suffolk.
76. vespers— By Meton. = evenings.
91, Sailors are even yet very superstitious
regarding the killing of an albatross or a
stormy-petrel.
98. uprist— " This is a weak preterite form
= up-rised." Chaucer uses upriste as a
noun— "the sonnn upriste " = the sunrise.
"A common provincial [English] form of
the preterite of the simple verb is m, short-
ened from rist." In America housekeepers
sometimes talk about " riz bread."
103-107. The fair . . . down— The weird,
mysterious character is kept up by these
lines, representing a rapid advance and a
sudden breaking into a charmed region
where all motion at once ceases.
109. break— A provincial pronunciation is
breek.
1II-II2. All . . . noon— The peculiar haze
of a hot atmosphere gives to the sun and
sky the appearance here described.
123-126. The very .... sea— Allowance
must be made for poetical exaggeration in
this horrible description, but it is a well-
known fact that winds and storms are im-
portant agents in keepinij the ocean pure ■
in the hot latitudes a long period of dead
calm gives opportunity for the development
of innumerable gelatinous marine animals,
many of which are phosphorescent ; their
frail substance cannot resist the force of the
waves, but is broken to pieces. See note oa
11. 273-281.
127-130. About . . . white— See note on
11. 273-281.
128. death-fires —Among the superstitious,
this name, as also " corpse-candles," was
given to certain phosphorescent lights that
appeared to issue from houses or rise from
the ground. It was believed that they fore-
told death, and that the course they took
marked out the road that the d-'iad body was
to be carried for burial.
152. I wist -The pres. inf. is to uiit, obso-
lete except in the sense of " namely " ; the
pres. indie, I wot; past, I wist (older form,
wiste).
164. Gramercy 1 = " Thanks " ; a com-
pound of the two French words grand =
" great," and merci = " thanks."
184. gossameres— Said to be a corruption
of "goose summer," from the downy appear-
ance of the threads— possibly a shortened
form ot "goose summer thread." — Skeat,
"A legend says that the gossamer is the
remnant of the Virgin Mary's shroud that
fell away in fragments as she was taken up
to heaven. It is this divine origin which is
indicated by the first syllable, i.e., God-sum-
mer." — Wedgwood.
185 et seq. Following this stanza in the
original edition was the following ghastly
description of Death, subsequently omitted
by Coleridge : —
" His bones were black with many a crack,
Are black and bare, I ween ;
Jet black and bare, save where with rust
Of mouldy damps and charnel crust,
They're patched with purple and green."
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
579
aoo. Within (he tropics the twilight is very
short.
226-227. This comparison was suggested
by Wordswortli.
334. This reference to the guardianship of
saints is an element in the weirdness of the
poem, as it carries us back to a reuioter
time whose customs arc indistinct to us
now.
245. or ever— "Oc is the Anglo-Saxon
car, ^ ere" — before. It is probable that
or ere arose as a reduplicated expression, in
which ere repeats and explains or; later,
ere was confused with or e'er ; whence, or
ever." — Skeut. " Or = before, and ere stands
for ever, lience or ere = before ever ; and is
almost always found at the beginning of a
clause."— Ha/es. See Daniel vi. 24 ; Psalm
xc. 2; also, Hamlet I., iii., 147.
257-258. An . . . high- In the Bible, op-
pression of " the fatherless and the widow "
is denounced as one of the greatest of sins.
273-281. water-snakec — " Captain King-
man, in lat. 8 deg. 46 min. S. long., 105 deg.
30 min. E., passed through a tract of water
2.5 miles in breadth and of unknown length,
so full of minute (and some not very minute)
phosphorescent organisms, as to present
the aspect (at night) of a boundless plain
covered with snow. Some of these animals
were "serpents" of six inches in length, of
transparent, gelatinous consistency, and very
luminous. . . . The phosphorescence of the
ocean prevails largely through the whole
extent of the tropical seas, and proceeds
from a great variety of marine organisms —
some soft and gelatinous, some minute Crust-
acea, etc. They shine mostly when excited
by a blow, or by agitation of the water, or
when a fish darts along, or oar dashes, or in
the wake of a ship when the water closes on
the track. In the latter case are often seen
what appear to be large lumps oflight rising
from under the keel, and floating out to the
surface, apparently of many inches in diam
cter. . . . One of the most remarkable of the
luminous rreatures is a tough, cartilaginous
bag or muff-shaped body, of more than an
inch in length, which, when thrown down on
the deck, bursts into a glow so strong as to
appear like a lump of white hot iron. One
of the moFt curious phases of phosphores-
cence ... is the appearance on the surface
of calm or but little agitated water of lumin-
ous sp.iccs of sever.d square feit in are.i,
sliiiiin^ fitfully, and bounded by riitilineitr, or
;if(iW_v n't (i/nitar,o»//iiiis,\)resenting angular
forms, across which the light flashes as if
propagated rapidly along the surface." —
Herschel's Physical Qeography.
zHzctseq. The calamities that befell the
Mariner were caused by his indifference to
animal life, and by his wanton cruelty ; the
punishment continues till he takes pleasure
in the animals and loves them.
290-291. The albatross .... sea— The
falling of the bird from the Mariner's neck,
and its sinking " like lead into the sea" are
emblematic of the forgiveness granted to
him. Henceforth his language changes ; it
is joyous often, or in the solemn tones of
one g' ving advice from dear-bought experi-
ence—there is no longer anything horrible
in it.
297. silly — Oiiginally this word meant
"happy," the meaning here. It is one of
those words — such as coy, simple, innocent
—that have suffered degradation. See
Abbott and Seelcy's Eng. Lessons for Eng.
People, pp. 48-53.
320-321. And the . . . edge— The contrast
between the one black thunder-cloud and
the bright moon beside it produces a most
striking effect.
339-335. The idea of navigating the ship
by dead men was suggested by Wordsworth.
337. 'gan--In the old ballads and other
writings this abbreviated form is followed
by the infinitive, as here, without the sign
to.
359. Spirits usually do their work in the
dark.
394- I
declare— I do not know.
397. Two voices — Possibly intended to
represent ji'stice and mercy ; the one speak-
ing angrily ; \hc other soothingly.
419. For . . . grim -Referring to the in-
fluence of the moon's attraction on the
ocean, causing tides. A tidal wave follows
the course of the moon over the oce m.
i r
k^inm
580
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
424-425. The air . . . behind-A vacuuni
bcinn thus created in front.
455. in shade— The apparent shade, pro-
duced by the minute ripples caused by a
slight breeze passing over tlie water.
501. cheer — Hail, to ask if a pilot was
wanted.
552-553. Like . . . afloat— It is said that
the bodies of the drowned rise to the surface
of till! water after seven or nine days.
582, it sfi;— The wandering of the Mariner
is doubtless imitated frouj tliat of the " Wan-
dering Jew," who, legend says, on account
of refusing to allow Christ, when on His way
to Crucifixion, to rest on a seat belonging to
him, was doomed to perpetual wandering on
earth. He often tells his story, and preaches
Christianity to the nations through which
he passes.
'I- [ V
LAMB.
Dissertation on Roast Pig.
Books of REFERENCE.-Monograph in "English Men of Lette.s Series"; Alexander
Smith's "Last Leaves"; Hazlitfs "Table Talk," "Plain Speaker," and "Spirit of the
Age": Leigh Hunt's "Autobiography"; Talfourd's "Life and Letters"; " Dublin After-
noon Lectures on Literature and Art " ; and Mrs. Oliphant's " Literature of the Nineteenth
Century."
6. Confucius— (551-479 B.C.)— A celebrated
Chinese philosopher and reformer, who
strove to direct the attention of men to the
social and political duties of life. He taught
universal charity, impartial justice, rectitude
of heart and mind, and conformity to cere-
monies and established usages. Universal
education he inculcated as a necessity;
sacrifices to the genii and spnits he recom-
mended as an old established custom ; but
he taught nothing regarding them. Obedi-
ence to the emperor was enforced by his
system. The ruling and literary classes of
China are still followers of Confucius.
7. Golden age— See note in 1. 106, " King
Robert of Sicily."
126. Locke— John Locke (1632-1704) the
English philosopher whose great work, the
Essay on the Human Understanding, is said
to be the most influential in modern philo-
sophic literature. (See Green's History of
England, Chap. IX., Sec. I., " Hobbes.")
140. mundus edibilus— )ni(» -rfi/s edib'-il-is
•< The edible world " = " everything eatable."
141. princeps obsoniorum— />n«'-C(;/>s ob-
son-i-or'-um =- " Prince, or chief of viands."
145. amor immunditioe— am'-or im-mtin-
dit'-i-e— Love of uncleanliness.
148. proeludium — pre-ln'-di-um = " Pre-
lude."
176-177. Lines from an epitaph by Colo-
ridge,
180-182. he hath . . . die— A reference to
Milton's Sonnet on Shakespeare.
508-209. few . . . kind— Lamb's salary was
at first only a hundred pounds a year ; when
lie retired it was about seven hundred, but
he had been in the service thirty-three
years.
217. Lear— In Shakespeare's play of Xing'
Lear, the old king divides his dominions
between two of his daughters, reserving
nothing for himself.
265. per flagellationem extreinam-/>H>'
flag-gel-la-ti-o'-ncm cx-ire'-mam — " By ex-
treme whipping "—whipping to death.
Note on Questions.— An Essay is a prose
composition treating of any subject. It is
usually shorter and less methodical than a
f0rm.1l treatise. Essay originally meant an
attempt. Another form of the word is Assay,
which is now used in the sense of a trial of
the composition of a metal. " The character
ot tlio essay has been various in various
hands — with Swift, political and b'lior'y
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
58 1
satirical; witli Addison, Steele, and Gold-
smith, a composition of pathos, humor, and
polish; with Johnson, a solonni sermon;
with Coleriiltjc, a metaphysical treatise. In
onr day it has become the vehicle of per-
sonal experiences and mild egotism." See
Prim, of Ell f^'. Lit., pp. 12J-125.
Montaigne— A Frencli writer (i533-i592)-
His Essays were published in ICuKland in
1685, by Charles Cotton. They are of a
gossipy nature, the thoughts being expressed
with engaging confidence. " He was the
first to give the word Esiay its modern
meaning, tiiough he dealt with his subjects
in a spirit 01 audacious shallowness, which
many of his successors have endeavored
to imitate, but which few have imitated
successfully. Abundant citation from the
classics is one of his chief characteristics;
but the two main points which differentiate
him are (i) the aud.icious egotism and
quaintness with which \w. discourses of his
private affairs and ixhibits himself in un-
dress ; (2) the flavor of scepticism which
diffuses over his whole work."— Saintsbury's
Short History 0/ i'rciuli Literature.
Most so-called American humor is really
burlesque, characterized by extravagant lan-
guage, maudlin sentiment, and, in many
cases, grotes(iue spelling. Some of it, how-
ever, is of a higher cast, resembling that of
its British prototypes.
!»
litaph by Cole-
SCOTT.
The Tournament of Ashby-dc-la-Zonchc.
Books of REFERiiNCE.-Lockhart's "Life of Scott"; Monograph in " Knglish Men of
Letters " series ; Jeffrey's " Essays " ; Carlyle's " Essays " ; Senior's " Essays on Fiction'";
Masson's "Novelists and their Styles"; Stephen's " Hours in a Library "; and Tucker-
man's " History of English Prose Fiction."
7. burgesses— Inhabitants of the cities.
yeomen -The word yeoman was used in
two senses — one "a servant of the next
degree above a groom; the other, people in
middle rank, not in service ; in more mod-
ern tiiiifs it came to signify a small land-
holder." Sonic etymologists derive yeoman
from the Anglo-Saxon ffiwitft' man, "young
man," a term often applied to servants;
others connect it with the Germanic word
ga, or go, a village, etc. ; hence a " village
man."
merry—This word in olden times meant
"brave, or valiant."
24. cap-a-pie— cfl/i-a-ZK:*— Literally " head
to foot."
43. a contemporary— Coleridge.
49-50. the place .... more — See Job
VII., 17.
62-63. It was .... Land— The crusades
h.ad introduced into Europe very many of
the customs and practices ol the East.
74. arms of courtesy— That is, to a trial
of more skill.
81-82. Brian de Bois-Guilbert — /?"»<«(»
Gilbcr'-Om: of the leading characters in
Ivanhoe. He belonged to the Knights Tem-
plars, a military and religious order founded
at Jerusalem in the early p.art of the twelfth
century, for the purpose of protecting that
city and the pilgrims coming thither. At
first the Knights affected great poverty, but
ultimately they bccam;i very wealthy; this,
together with their arrogance and luxury,
aroused the hostility o* the French kings,
one of whom, Philip IV., induced Pope
Clement V. to join in a plan for suppressing
the order. This took place throughout
Europe in 1312.
88. Reginald Front-de-Boeuf— ft"#-This
character holds a subordinate place in Ivan-
hoc; the others mentioned seldom appear
again in the story.
98. Knights of St. John— After%vards of
Malta. A famous military and religious
order that originated A.i). 1042 in connection
with an hospital dedicated to St. John the
Baptist for the relief of pilgrims visiting the
Holy Sepulchre. Hence known .is Ho=pi-
582
EXPLANATORY NOTliS.
tiillers. They were afterwards established
in various parts of Europe, especially in
niaritiiiiu towns.
126. attaint ut-ta{ii), "aim" — I-ilerally
"reaching."
137. Cedric— A Saxor. noble, father of the
hero of the novel ; he is siippoMil to rei)re-
sent the character and aspirations of the
English at that time.
143. Athelstane— In Ivanhoe, the repre-
sentative of the Saxon claims to the crown
of England.
155. melee— »irt>'-/(i>'--The second day of
the tournament, in which the combatants
fought in two opposing bands, not man op-
posed to man, as in the fii st day.
t I
160. Wamba— The jester of Cedric.
note ou 1. 82, " King Robert of Sicily."
See
i-j. downi— The lower class of people.
1H4. Saracenic -The name Saracen w.is
given by mediojval writers to various Mo-
hammedan peoples of Palestine, and also to
the Arabians generally.
ir^. Desdichado~i/«-rf^-cAafc'-rfo — Liter-
ally " toin up."
203-20). Hospitaller — See note on
" Knight of St. John" above.
224. Graraercy— See note on 1. 164 of" The
Ancient Mariner."
250. Gare le Corbeau -i'rtfcr* U cor-bo'—
" Hewarc the crow."
330-331, Cave, adsum— ca'-f*, ad'-iunv~
" Ueware, I'm here 1 "
396. Lady Rowena ■— Ward of Cedric,
connected with the old Saxon royal fatuily,
and beloved by Ivanhoe.
i k ■! '1
Rosabelle.
The poem is a pure ballad in form, and shows how deeply Scott had imbibed the spirit
of the old popular poetry, which he had studied so long and so carefully.
if 1}
I. The opening of the poem is character-
istic of the old minstrelsy. See note on 1.
31, "Skipper Ireson's Ride."
5. The direct address to others by an
unknown speaker is very characteristic of
old ballads.
7. Ravensheuch signifies " raven's crag ; "
heuch being the same as " Haughs" in Lead-
er Haughs— 1. 17, " Yarrow Unvisited."
10. inch— .'Vn island.
II. Water-sprite— Old superstition peo-
pled every stream and lake, grove and hill
with spirits, many of which were ill dis-
posed towards mankind.
18. Roslin— A ruined castle situated on
the banks of the Esk, and the ancient seat
of the St. Clairs or Sinclairs.
21. ring they ride — A ring, lightly fas-
tened, was suspended from a beam between
two upright posts; the tillers dashed full
speed at the ring and endeavored to carry
it off on the point of their spears as they
passed beneath.
25. The vividly -descriptive powers of
Scott are nowhere seen with greater effect
than here; though the elaborate character
of the description is foreign to the natural
simplicity of the old ballad.
32. Hawthornden — A mansion-house
beautifully situated on the banks of the
Esk, near Roslin. The poet Drummond
(1585-1649) lived there.
34. The barons of Roslin were buried in
their armor in a vault beneath the chapel
floor.
38. sacristy — now called a vestry— An
apartment in a church in which the sacred
utensils, vestments, etc., were kept.
39. pillar .... bound — The pillars in
Roslin Chapel were ornamented with sculp-
tured foliage,
43-44. Legend says that in many other
Scottish families the death of one of their
number is foretold by some supernatural ap-
pearance. The apparition of an old man,
Scott says, foretold death in the family of
Bruce.
50. Alluding to the burial rites practised
in the Roman Catholic Chnrch.
ii
li!
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
583
I'-rfo— Uter-
note on
BYRON.
Tin- Prisoiiir of Chillon.
Books ok Rkkkrknck. — Trclawncy's "Shelley and nyron"; K.irl KIso's " IJfo of
Hyron"; Moiionraph in " KiiKlisli Men of Luttcrs" series; Swinburne's, Koselti's, and
Matthew AnioM's I'rofares to Ivditions of Hyron's Poems; and Mrs. Oiiphant's " Litera-
ture of the Nineteenth Century."
Chillon is situated at the eastern extremity of I.ako Geneva,
The inoasuro is 4,irt ; II. 2, \, and 227, 2i.S are i\a; 11. 17-25 are ^(jr, ralalertir ; the
rhyme is somewhat capricious, Imt varying iti the main between couplets and alternate
rhyme. The poem belongs to the Romantic class.
10. banned— The original meaning of ban
was a proclamation ; hence " to outlaw hy
proclamation;" also " to c\irse." Another
nieaning in Middle Rnglish was "to pro-
hibit" — the meaning in the text.
35. marsh's
tern.
lamp— The Jack o' Lan-
55. Fettered — " Fetters" properly refers
to bonds for the /<■<•<.
57. pure . . . earth— Freedom, open air,
beneath the sky.
71. ought— This word is properly a past
tense.
107— Lake Leman — Lake Geneva; the
ancient name was Lemannus.
108. Byron's prose account says 800 feet
(French).
109. meet and flow^ — The Rliciie flows
through Lake Geneva.
117-118. We . . . knocked So in the tin
mines of Cornwall extending under the
ICnglish Channel, the sound ot the w.ilcr is
heard overhead.
179. Hyron is thinking of th<! deeapit.ition
of some criminaU which he witnessc'd at
Rome.
237. wist— Past tense of "to wit," to
know ; present tense " wot."
318. I . . . wall—-" In the pavement the
ste|)s of Ronniv.iid h.ivo left their traces."
— (Uyrnii )
336. blue Rhone ~ This is not quite cor-
rect. When the Rlione, which has its
source in a glacier, enters the lake, it is
charged with imul from the grinding down
of the ro.id over which the glacier moves.
The river, on issuing from the lake, is blue,
for the still water of the lake allows the
sediment to fall to the bottom.
337. There is a torrent close behind the
Castle of Chillon.
341. little isle— This was the only island
that Myron saw in his voyage round the
entire lake.
1
■I
BURNS.
tes practised
The Cotter's Saturday Night.
Books of Reference.- Monograph in "Env'ish Men of Letters" scries; Chambers'
Life; Carlyle on Burns; Alexander Smith's Introduction to Burns's Poems; and Shairp's
" Aspects of Poetry," and " On the Poetic Interpretation of Nature."
The intricacy of the stanza chosen has forced the poet to a more careful elaboration
than would be necessary in his more familiar measures ; but at the same time it trammels
his imagination.
5H
EXl'LANATORY NOTES.
'1 '■
The s,an.a is ,.,.. Spenscian. ro„.iH,in« of nine lines, ,h« fir.. -«"' '-'"« ^^ ::'^^;i
„i„,h f,,va.- .1.0 rUytn.. luiu. .h-c only, vi/,.: II. ., 3 ; i. 4. 5, 7 ; 6. H, ,j. H- » -'tr.c
yueen" an.i "Childe Humid" aro written in this Ineasur.^
Cotter — "In its orl»;in.il acceptation
the word Cottier <lesiKnates a class of sul)-
tcnants, who rent a cottane and an acre or
two of land from the small farmers. Hut
tlicusaKe of wriK rs lias loim since strctcliod
the term to include those small farmer-
themselves, and Kcnorally all peasant far.i^
crs whose rents are determined hy compc
tition."— Mill's Voliikal Econony.
2. No mercenary bard-Poeta were ac-
customed to dedicate works to some one
who was wealthy or inlluential, with the
hope of securinR his favor, ami of thus ex-
tending the sale of their hooks.
15. moil-Growing dirty by toiling through
dust and sweat. The word is used now, tor
the most part, in connection with toil : " toil-
ing and moiling."
17. morn .-'.nd mormn are different forms
of the same. Middle English word morurn.
Morning is the same with the noun-suffix ing.
21. toddlin'-It must be remembered (hat
the Scotch dialect is not a corruption of
the classic English ; of the two the former
is much the purer English. Three well
marked dialects existed in England-the
Southern, the Midland, and the Northern ;
modern English developed from the second
of these, and the Scottish, with but slight
change, is the third, having very little in-
termixture of foreign woids. The present
participle, in the writings of the fourteenth
century, ended in and, end, inde, inge; in
Scotland the "d" was gradually dropped
leaving "n" the final letter; in England
the form " ing " is the one that has survived.
26. carking cares-These two words are j
of the same meaning; in Anglo-Saxon care
= care.
27, toil— At present the sound of oi does
not rhyme with tlie long sound of «; but it
seems to have done so last century. Com-
pare the often-heard pronunciation of broil
and soil as brile and iile.
30. tentle rin— Icwfic is said to be a cor-
ruption oi attentive; the Anglo-Saxon word
for run is irnan; by the loss of the termina-
tion an, and by the very common transpo-
sition of r, the form rin is produced, still
heard in some dialects of Ivngland as well
as in Scotland.
31. canny here means requiring care, or
f-arelul ; but the context often determines
I he precise sense.
34. braw is the same as brave in tlie senso
tAfine, so used in Shakespeare; also in the
Hible— " the bravery of their tinkling orna-
ments."
35. penny-fee— The latter part of the com-
poun(i in<ilcat(s the pay; the former, tho
kind, i.e., tnoney-l'iiy or wages.
40. uncM-News, i.e., things uncouth, un-
known.
44. Gars- A Norse word found in the
northern counties of England as well as in
Scotland. Six user uses it in his Shepherd's
Calendar.
52. gang-Our nouns gang and gang-viay
preserve the old form.
'/). kens — We still hear in English the
noun ;,i)i, as in " beyond my k(!n.'" It is the
same word in reality as can.
57. cam- The Scottish form is the more
correct ; final e should not be in the English
word.
62. hafflins-The tins is an old English
adverbial termination; it is the same as
ling in darkling, grov/iiig.
64. ben-A shortened form of the Anglo-
Saxon binnan, within ; it is the inner room
of the house as opposed to the room next
the door, called but; this latter being a
shortened form of butan, without.
65. no— This is the simple negative, tho
Anglo-Saxon na' ; not Is a compound of na'
and rt'/if, ought, anything.
69. laithfu'— Our word loth.
yz. lave— Anglo-Saxon is la'f, remains,
leavings— what is left.
92. halesome-An older spelling than the
English x^'holesome; the Anglo-Saxon simple
form is hal, which is seen in heal, health.
im IStd .111(1 lilt'
Tliu " I'acrie
produced, still
[inland as well
\iiriii>; care, or
ell dctcrniines
iir ill the Hcii'-tJ
ire; also in llio
■ tinkling orna-
part of the coin-
he former, tho
s,
igs uncouth, un-
\ found in tho
lid as well as ill
n his Shepherd's
g and gang-viay
in EnRlish the
y ken." It is the
arm is the more
)e in the Eniilisli
an old English
is the same as
rm of the Anglo-
s the inner room
;o the room next
s latter being a
without.
pie negative, the
compound of na'
oth.
is la'/, ramains,
■ spelling than the
nglo-Saxon simple
in heal, health.
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
5ft5
94. hallan— " In houses where there is hut
one room the hattait is ,i low p.iriiiiim w.ill,
or screen running between the door and the
fire-place."
loj. ha" BlbJe— The Bible kept in the
principal r<K)in.
106. Thoi' • glide -Referring to the
Scottish I ii irlcil ^ersion of the Psalms of
David.
lu-ir D adeo, M rtyri, and Elgin arc
names oi lu ts In Sr' itish psalmody.
113. beet. ' ;r. » .vilh fuel; said to be a
shortenet' lonu of the Anglo-Saxon betan, to
make better.
119. See James II., 43; i Chronicles XX., 7
l20-m. See Exodus XVII., 15, ifi.
iaa-123. See a Samuel XII.
ia5-ia6. The .Hook of Isaiah is largely
poetical, and shows mori: sublimity and
power of vivid imagination than any other
in the Bible. Several of the other Prophets
are poetical in part.
iji. tped Tared. 131. precepts sage.
The "Epistles" of the different apostles.
133-135. See Revelations I., y; XVIIl. ;
XIX., 17.
138. Quoted from Pope's Windtor Fortil.
143. lu the company of those they love,
and of Christ, who is "still more dear."
148-149. The rhyme of these two lines Is
peculiar; heart may lia' a the sound of hurt,
a pronunciation heard in Scotland ; or desert
may have the soun ' . ! deutrt, as in the Eng-
lish pronunriation of clerk, clitrk; Derby,
darby; some old people still say desart,
showing that such was once the pronuncia-
tion. See the same rhyme, 11. 185-187.
165. See " Deserted Village," 1. 53-
166. Quoted from Pope's Essay on Man,
IV., 247.
1H2. Wallace — See Green's History 0/
England, " Conquest of Scotland."
To a Mountain Daisy.
This poem was composed by Burns at the plough, on his farm at Mossgiel.
The measure is 4Ara in four line- .". . la in two.
The stanza has six lines and only kv.o rhymes; the long lines have one rhyme, and the
two short ones the other.
I. The rhyme-sound of lines i, 2, 3, 5 »s
that of oor in poor.
6. bonny- This is not tho French ban
(bonne), good, but an Anglo-Saxon word.
39. card— Compass.
Robert Bruce's Address to his Army at Bannockburn.
"There is a tradition," says the poet, in
a letter to a friend, enclosing this ode, " that
the old air, ' Hey, tuttie taiti.,' was Robert
Bruce's march at the Battle of Bannock-
burn. This thought, in my solitary wander-
ings, has warmed me to a pitch of enthusiasm
on the theme of liberty and independen-v
which I have thrown into a kind of ScottisU
ode, fitted to the air, that one might suppose
to be the gallant Scot's address to his heroic
followers on that eventful morning." Car-
composed on horseback; in riding in the
middle of tempests, over the wildest Gallo-
way moor, in company with a Mr. Lynn,
who, observing the poet's looks, forebore to
speak -judiciously enough, for a man com-
posing Bruce's Address might be unsafe to
rifle with. Doubtless this stern hymn was
singing itself, as he formed it, through the
soul of Burns; but to the external ear it
should be sunt; with the throat of a whirl-
wind."
lyV
his Essays says that this ode "was
586
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
[ 'I
COWPER.
On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture.
Books OF Referencf,.— Soutiiey's " Life of Cowper "; Monograph in " English Men of
Letters " series.
Cowper says that, with one exception, the writing of this poem afforded him more
pleasure than did any of his others. Tlie poem was written in 1790.
5. fails— "Is wanting" or "lacking"— the
original meaning of the word.
16. as -We now use as if instead of simple
as; formerly tlie subjunctive following was
deemed sufficient, but now the force of the
subjunctive is almost lost.
19. Elysian— See note on " Agricola."
46. Cowper's father died in 1756,
56-57. Still .... traced — "I can truly
say," said Cowper, nearly fifty years after
his mother's death, " that not a week passes
(perhaps I might with equal veracity say a
day) in which I do not think of her; such
was the impression her tenderness made
upon me, though the opportunity she had
of showing it was so short."
98. consort— The use of this word here is
not happy: it may be taken in a figurative
or in a literal sense; the language ef the
context is figurative.
108. On his mother's side Cowper was
descended from several noble families, and
from Henry IIL, King of England,
';, ■ ii i
I ; ••
! ..is
?,i
BURKE.
The Spirit of Liberty in the American Colonies.
Books of Reff.rf.nce.— M.-icKnight's "Life of Burke"; Monograph in "English Men
of Letters " series ; Morley's " Edmund Burke : a Historical Study."
Criticai..— 107. The right of publishing parliamentary debates had substantially been
established in 1772.
Li..
21-26. First . . . your hands— Read care-
fully Ch:<p VIII., Sec. IV., Green's llisiory
ofthvEiii;iish People. The spirit of liberty
in the English was aroused to its highest
pitch in the struggle against the Stuart
tyranny.
25. took .... direction — In America
everything was new ; there were no tradi-
tions of the past, or established customs or
institutions to interfere with the full develop-
ment of the principles of freedom inherent
in the English constitution.
V30. Liberty . . . object— That is, it is
not a m -e idea, but counccleil with some-
thing pt clical; such a.i the liberty claimed
by theluiglish, of taxing themselves through
their rcnrcsentatives.
32. It happened, etc. — See in Green's
Ilistoiy 0/ liiifiland, the struggle with King
John, Henry III., Edward I.; Wat Tyler's
rebellion; Jack Cade's rebellion; Wolsey's
administration; and the struggle with
Jamt'i I. and Charles I.
34-35. Most of the contests — See in
Schmidt's Ancient History the struggle be-
tween the plebs and the patricians at Rome
regarding magistrates: and at Athens be-
tween the Aristocractic and Democratic
parties.
39. On this point, etc. — Such as Sir
Thomas More, ICliot, I'ym, Hampden, St.
John (Bolingbroke). See Green's History
of Eni;land,
M
! .i'
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
587
46. in ancient parchments— Sec Green's
History ()//;»;,'/rt)i(/— MaKuaCluirta, Kdward
I. and the Baronage (Chap. IV,, Sec. V.),
Petition of Right, etc.
47. blind usages — Tlic custom of the
country, though not existing in delinite
statute.
52. delivered this oracle -An a: sion
to tlu; helicf of the ancient Greeks and
Romans, that the gods gave responses to the
inquiries of the people in very important
matters.
59-61. Liberty . . alarmed— This is not
quite correct ; the question of religion was
prominent during tlie reigns of James I. and
Cliarles I.; under James II. the question at
issue was wholly religion, at least in ap-
pearance.
140-141. such in . . . Poles— In T 772, after
the first, dismemberment of their country by
Russia, Prussia, and Austria, the I'oles be-
came aware of their (l.intrer, and made great
chauKos in their con '.itution ; among others
they granted civil rights to the peasants,
who had till then been in a state of serfdom.
158. Blackstone-Sir William Dlackstone
(1723-1780) is best known as the author of
the Commcntarifs on the Laivi of England.
I These were originally delivered in the form
1 of lectures at Oxford, where he was a pro-
fessor, and are an exposition of English law
in popular language.
159. General Gage was appointed in 1774
governor of Massachusetts ; his stern char-
acter only hastened the outbreak of the
war. After the battle of Hunker's Hill he
was recalled to England.
73. merely popular - That is, purely
popular— as in New England, where the
provinces were purely democratic; Penn-
sylvania and Maryland were proprietary
governments— \\\c former owned by the
Penns and tlic latter by Lord Baltimore ;
New Jersey, Virginia, North and South
Carolina, and Georgia were royal govern.
mcnts. Virginia was, perhaps, the most
violent in language against Great Britain.
77. Aversion from— We say, now, usually,
"aversion to." The former is preferable! 011
etymological grounds, the word aversion
being formed from a, from or away; and
vertere, to turn.
83-85. The people . . . opinion— Congrc-
gationalists, Presbyterians, etc.
130. as broad . . . air -See Shakespeare's
Macbeth, Act III., scene IV.
139-140. ancient commonwealths— All the
ancient republics, e.g., Oreece, Rome,
Carthage, had numerous slaves.
Gothic ancestors-If taken literally this
is incorrect ; the descendants of the Goths
are in Spain, and Northern Italy, and
Sweden ; the ancestors of the English were
Low Dutch, like the Hollanders and the
German tribes along the North Sea.
Probably Burke meant "Gothic "as a gen-
eral term, equivalent to " Germanic."
167. mighty— This use is now somewhat
colloquial, but the wor.l in Burke's time
was common in this sense.
167-168. honorable friend— Attorney-
General Thurlow.
174. Abeunt studia in mores-d?''-''-""'
stu'-di-a in inor'-ees — " Studies influence
manners."
177-178. judge .... grievance— It has
been said that the lawsof ICngland have no
symmetry, being merely a confused jumble.
This arises from the f.ict stated by Burke;
no scientific or symmetrical body of laws
was drawn up, but when a grievance was
felt a Law was made to meet it- an evidence
of the decidedly practical character of the
Englisli people.
191-192. winged .... sea— The British
men-of-w.ir. pounces {l"r. /'oiia'; Lat./iKjf-
m/s, " a fist ") ; claws or talons.
199-200. In large bodies, etc.— The allu-
sion is to the circulation of the blood.
208. Spain . . . provinces— Spain's pro-
vinces an; now only insular ; she has lost all
her South American colonies.
219. accession of power -See Green's
History of lln^tanJ, Chap. X., Sec. 11., " The
Stamp Act."
588
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
"The Age of Chivalry Is Gone.
Ill
i 1
if ■
ii '
* <
im i.'i
1-2. For a concise account of the French
Revolution, see Primer of French History.
For a more detailed account of the events
referred to in the text, consult Michclet's
French Revuluiion, B. II., Chap. IX. After
the destruction of the Bastile, the French
mob found out its power. On a report that
the Guards had shown enthusiasm for the
King, the whole populace poured out of
Paris into Versailles, and, after threatening
the life of the queen, brought the royal
family bi^ck with them to Paris, Oct. 6tli,
1789, and kept them almost prisoners while
the Assembly was deliberating on the pro-
posed new constitution. Dr. Price in his
sermon had described this leading of the
King and Queen to Paris as a " triumph," and
under this name Burke frequently refers to
the event with sarcastic emphasis.
18. On the 3rd of January, 1789, an address
had been presented to the King and Queen
by a deputation of tio members of the
Assembly, in which they said, "They look
forward to the happy day, when appearing
in a body before a prince, the friend of the
people, they shall present to him a collection
of laws calculated for his happiness, and the
happiness of all the French ; when their
respectful affections shall entreat a beloved
King to fight the disorders of a tempestuous
epoch," etc. In the preceding part of this
letter Burke remarks in regard to this
address—" A man is fallen, indeed, when he
thus flattered. The anodyne draught of
oblivion, thus drugged, is well calculated to
preserve a galling wakefulness, and to feed
the living ulcer of a corroding memory.
Thus to administer the opiate potion of
amnesty, powdered with all the ingredients
of scorn and contempt, is to hold to his
lips, instead of the balm of hurt minds the
cup of human misery, full to the brim, and
to force him :o drink it to the dregs."
21. Marie Antoinette was the daughter of
Maria Theresa, the celebrated Empress of
Gi'rmany, who by the Pragmatic Sanction
succeeded to the throne of her father, Karl
VI. She bravely maintained her disputed
right to the throne, and throagho\it a long
rei'iii hhowed a reniiutr ,ind mascuiinc
character, raising Austria from deep de-
pression to a height of power it had not
reached before.
23. Roman matron— Burke probably re-
fers to Arria, the wife of Caecina Pactus.
When in a.d. 42 her husband was ordered
by the Roman Emperor Claudius to put an
end to his life, and hesitated to do so, Arria
slabbed herself, and handing the dagger to
her husband, said, " Pactus, I feel no pain."
24. An allusion to the queen's carrying
poison concealed about her person.
26. Burke saw her first in 1774, before the
Revolution had broken out.
27. dauphiness — Marie Antoinette had
been married to the grandson "f Louis XIV.,
while the grandson was still dauphin (heir
apparent) of France.
34. Titles of veneration when she became
queen.
42. This lament for the day of chivalry, a
favorite theme with many writers, is prob-
ably the most famous passage in this letter.
53. ennobled .... touched— A reminis-
cence of Johnson's epitaph on Goldsmith,
" who left scarcely any style of writing un-
touched, and touched nothing which he did
not adorn."
86. this scheme— The scheme of the politi-
cal theorists concerned in the French Revo-
lution.
103. Academy— The Academy was a piece
of land near Athens, originally belonging
to the hero Academus, and subsequently a
gymnasium adorned with groves of planes
and olives, statues, and other works of art.
Here the philosopher Plato taught, and after
him his disciples, who were hence called
Academic philosophers.
106. mechanic = " mechanical."
in-115. The "wise man and great critic"
is the Latin poet Horace, who in his " Art
of Poetry," uses the words in the text, " Non
sat-is est pul-chra esse po-em-at-a, dul-ci-a
sun-to": "It is not enough that poems bo
bfatiliiui ; ret tliciH be al?0 -'A'CCt-
1 deep de-
it had not
irobably re-
;ina Pactus.
vas ordered
IS to put an
do so, Arria
le dagger to
el no pain,"
I's carrying
;on.
I, before the
oinette had
Louis XIV.,
iuphin (heir
she became
if chivalry, a
;ers, is prob-
n this letter.
-A reminis-
1 Goldsmith,
f writing un-
which he did
jofthepoliti-
'rench Revo-
y was a piece
ly belonging
bsequently a
^es of planes
works of art.
ght, and after
hence called
al."
great critic "
> in his "Art
he text, "Non
-at-a, ilul-ci-a
liat poems be
EXPLANATORY NOTES. 5^9
GOLDSMITH.
The Deserted Village.
Books of REFERENCE.-Monograph ir " English Men of Letters" series ; Forstcr's and
Irving's "Life of Goldsmith"; Masson's "Essays"; Thackeray's "English Humorists ;
Macaulay-s "Essays"; Ha.,..fs "English Poets"; De Quincey's "Eighteenth Century";
Wufd's " Poets."
2. wain— A very common last century
word, but little used now except in sportive
language.
6. Seats .... youth— Home of my boy-
hood. We still speak of a " country seat."
13-14. The hawthorn .... made I— See
"Cotter's Saturday Night," 11. 79-81.
15. coming day— Some village holiday.
16. remitting— Used in the sense of ceas-
ing.
16. its- Referring to the noun play — a.
somewhat unusual constru:;tion.
17. train— Another last century word,
common in Goldsmith. Cp. 1. 2.
25. simply— "Merely"; or it may bear the
meaning " innocently."
27. mistrustless-" Unconscious."
40. And half .... plain— In Goldsmith's
eyes cultivated fields were the most beauti-
ful, as affording evidsnc t of a numerous and
prosperous peasantry ; when the area of
cultivatiori was reduced, the beauty was
stinted.
44. The hollow
neil— Cf. Scott's
" Well rest thee, for the bittern's cry
Sings us the lake's wild lullaby."
—Lady of the Lake, Canto IV.
46. unvaried cries — The bird is often
called the peewit, on account of its peculiar
cry.
5:. Ill— The use of the same word in differ-
ent senses in close proximity is an error.
52. Where . . . decay— This is Gold-
smith's mistake ; since his day Great Britain
has vastly increased in wealth by means of
trade, and the population is over three times
as great as when be lived.
54. Compare "Cotter's Saturday Night,"
1. 163 ; also Burns's lines—
" A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke and a' that ;
But an honest man's aboou his might."
55-56. Everywhere the farming class is
regarded as the strength of a country. His-
torians attribute the overthrow of the Roni.in
Republic to the destruction of tenant fanners
and of the free proprietors of small farms.
57. This is but another form of the com-
mon expression, "the good old times"; it
merely shows dissatisfaction with the pre-
sent state of things. Goldsmith's ideal
country was one possessing a numerous
and contented peasantry; and he looks
back to the time when a larger proportion
of the English people were peasants.
63. The unhappy state of things which
the author thinks exists in England, e
attributes to the great development cf trade.
66. Unwieldy .... cumbrous — Exces-
sive wealth displayed in vulgar, tasteless
ostentation.
67-68. The satisfying of one want gives
rise to another; and foolish people suffer in
obeying the dictates of vanity.
74. manners — Customs.
79. Goldsmith never returned to Lissoy
after leaving it for Edinburgh.
104. Trade compels men to engage in the
most dangerous occupations
154. Claimed kindred— A fellow-man in
need. Cf. Shakespeare's "One touch of
nature makes the whole world kin."
162, His pity , . . . began-Charity gives
to a worthy object ; pity appeals to the feel-
ings without regard to worth in the object.
59<3
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
Hi' Hi '
I .'!
' i 1
! J I
164. Cf. 11. 149-150. Indiscriminate giving
out of pity would foster idleness, but pity is
a virtue.
J70, Perhaps Goldsmith is imitating, con-
sciously or not, Chaucer's character of the
"poure persoun" in the Prologue to tlie
Canterbury Tales —
"Benigne he was, and wonder diligent . . .
He cowde (could) in litel thing han (have)
suffisaunce . , .
This noble cnsample to his scheep he yaf,
That first he wroughte, and afterward he
taughte . . .
He was to sinful man nought despitous
(merciless) . . .
He waytede after no pompe and rever-
ence . . ,
But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve.
He taughte, but first he folwedtf (followed)
it bimselve."
Goldsmith had probably read only Dry-
den's version of the Canterbury Talef . Ad-
dison, Wordsworth, and Crabbe have also
delineated the character of the good pastor.
209. terms— Periods during which courts,
etc., are in session.
2og. tides— Seasons, such as 'Easter-tide;
not the periods of ebb and flow of the ocean.
Auburn was not on the coast. Perhaps the
words are the same as in "time and tide
wait for no man," where tide means seoion.
220, et seq. Goldsmith draws from his own
experience in the description of the ale-
house. On leaving college he returned to
his mother's house, and spent about two
years doing little or nothing ; but he used
to meet regularly at the inn a club of merry
young fellows, over whose carousals he pre-
sided.
232. The .... rules — These rules are said
to have been drawn up by King Charles I.;
they are as follows :—
1. Urge no healths. 2. Profane no divine
ordinances. 3. Touch no state matters.
4, Reveal no secrets. 5. Pick no quarrels.
6. Make no companions. 7. Maintain no
ill opinions. 8 Keep no bad company,
g. Encourage no vice. 10. Make no long
meals. 11. Repeat no grievances. 12. Lay
no wagers.
232. the royal game of goose— Some say
the game called " Fox and Goose"; others
that a much more elaborate game is meant.
243. barber's tale— "The endless garru-
lity of barbers is a perpetual matter of joke
or disgust with the novelists of George ll.'s
time." — Hales,
244. woodman— A wood-cutter. His song
or ballad would evidently be about the
forest.
POPE.
Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot.
Books of Reference.— Monograph in "English Men of Letters" series; Ward's
"Poets"; Johnson's "Lives of the Poets"; Hazlitt's "English Poets"; De Quincey'8
"Leaders of Literature " ; Saint Beuve's "Causeries"; Taine's "EngUsh Literature";
Stephen's " Hours in a Library"; Lowell's " My Study Windows."
3. Dog-star— Sirius, the brightest of the
fixed stars; it is above the horizon in the
day time during the hottest part of the sum-
mer, in the months of July and August.
Madness was supposed to be more frequent
during this period than at any other.
4. Parnassus — A mountain in Grevice
(Hellas) ; in Greek mythology the resort of
the muses. The word is here used by Melon
U>i IhoiC who affect poetry.
13. Mint—" Suffolk House in Southwark
(London) was converted into a mint for
coining. This was afterwards pulled down
and its site covered with cottages. The
whole district, containing several streets
and alleys, vras a sanctuary for debtors."—
Pattison. On Sunday debtors were free
from fear of arrest.
23. Midas— A mythical king of Phrygia in
Asia Minor. He offended the god ApoUo,
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
591
who thereupon bestowed on him ass's ears.
For a time he concealed them under his
cap, but a servant who used to cut his hair
observed them. The secret so harassed the
man that being afraid to betray it to any
human being, he dug a hole in the earth
and whispered into it, " King Midas has
ass's ears." The story goes that a reed
grew up on the same spot and by its whis-
pers divulged the secret.
39. Codrus— A traditional name for a pool
poet. So likewise Bavius, 1. 51.
47. Throned, etc.— Referring to the posi-
tion of the spider in the centre of its web.
50. arch'd eyebrow—" In a peer, expres-
sive of contempt."
52. Philips (Ambrose), called by Pope
elsewhere, 'namby-pamby Philips." He
wrote a good deal of very commonplace
poetry, which, however, was highly praised
by Addison. He was the object of a great
deal of ridicule from the wits of the day.
The bishop of Armagh, afterwards Primate
of Ireland, was his patron.
53. Sappho-The name of a celebrated
Greelc poetess of tho sixth century, u.c;
here evidently intended for some female
writer of verses.
63. Grub Street, now Milton Street in
Moorfields, London, inhabited for genera-
tions by writers of various kinds. Bef'^v
Pope's time it had become the home of tno ,
basest of scribblers, who wrote for anyone
that would hire them. Hence the term was
often applied to any poverty-stricken, mer-
cenary writer.
65. Pope ' I utters were carefully written
with a view to being published but wish-
ing to have this done, as it w i surrep-
titiously, he resorted to many coniemptible
contrivances to effect his purpose. On their
publication he would openly abuse the man
who had published them.
66. In Pope's days, and for a long time
afterwards, it was customary for an author,
especially if poor, to solicit subscriptions
for a book not yet published, and often not
yet written. The money thus obtained
would enable him to publish his book.
68. Horace — A celebrated Roman satirical
and lyric poet ; he died a.d. 8. In person he
was short and stout.
69. Ammon's great son— Alexander the
Grcr/ -The priests f4 Jupiter Ammon, in
the O.isis of Siwah, declared he was the son
of that god. See note on 1. 243, "General
VVoHe and Old Quebec."
70. Ovid— A Roman poet, born n.c. 43.
died A.D. 18.
70. Sir) ... . eye— It is said that Pope
suffered from weakness of the eyes. _
Maro— The Roman poot Virgil. See
'The Key to Human ILippi-
7-t'
note on 1. 78,
ness." ^
76. Homer-Tho great epic poet of Greece ;
wrote the Iliad and the Ody<i!.cy. It is uncer-
tain when he lived ; many suppose it was at
least as early as u.c. 800.
79. a fool to fame—" So foolish as to de-
sire fame greatly."
85. Arbuthnot (ifi75-i735) — Physician to
Queen Aii..c; he h.id a taste for literature,
and wrote several works. Thackeray says
he was "one of the wisest, wittiest, most
.accomplished and gentlest of mankind."
Another writer declares, " it is known he
gave numberless hints to Pope, Swift, and
Gay, of some of the most striking parts of
their works." He lived on terms of closest
intimacy with Pope.
87-93. The persons mentioned were friends
of Pope ; all attained at least some eminence
in literature. Granville became Lord Lans-
downe in 171 1; Walsh was ono of Pope's
earliest patrons; Garth was an eminent
physician; Congreve wrote some of the
wittiest comedies in the language, but their
moral tone is bad ; Talbot, duke of Shrews-
bury, was an > .•■^' nt statesman ; for Sotn-
ers, Rochesl- :^t. John-s.<i Green's
History of En^h. ■ ■'coplc; Drydu.'Ud Swift
— see Primer 0/ Eiif^tisk ) "'raturc.
98. Burnet— Bishop ..■■ . 'isbuty, a volu-
minous writer, but kno.va chiefly by his
History of my Otvn Time. Dryden says of
liim —
" Interest in all his actions was discerned,
More learned than honest, more a wit than
learned."
Pot>ii hated him. and so classes him ^vith
writers of a much lower grade.
a':
m^m^
592
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
ni. Fanny— L'fd Hcrvey, % nobleman
of the court of G''.o. II.; by some jtgarded
as a fop, by others ar. a man possfstied of
•'wit, beauty, and gcnue mannrrs." Pope
hated him intensi.'y, and assailed hnn on
several occasions.
103. Gildon, an obscure .?riterof the ■inie, j
who had itfacked Pope in two publications. |
ros. Deu'^is, a dram&tist and critic. Pope
had viiany bitter quaneis with him. He
k'vJ C. '.':r*a uppcr.x 'n the Dunciad.
■s\f. Bei'.ilej' — Richard Bentley, B.D.
(iC< ■. i7.f2'., ii v) great Latin and Greek
SI hoiai' ; well known for his editipns of the
Classics. Ha edited also Milton's Paradise
Lost. Pope knew personally little of Bent-
icy. Macaulay says, " He was the greatest
scholar that had appeared in Europe since
the revi'-'al of letters." See monograph in
"English Men of Letters" series.
116. Tibald— Pope's way of spelling Theo-
bald, a critic and writer of the time, who
edited an edition of Shakespeare, which
Pope chose to regard as a rival to his own ;
Theobald war- placed on the throne as the
hero of the Dunciad in the early editions of
the poem.
120. Cf. note on 1. 116.
127. Ambrose Philips (cf. note on 1. 52)—
the author of " Pastorals," which Pope ac-
cused him of stealing.
138. Nahum Tate (1652-1715) — He was
poet-laureate ; wrote poems, translations,
etc. ; also a version of the Psalms of David
in conjunction with Brady.
136. obligfed — Note the pronunciation.
See section 175, Earle's Philology of the
English Tongue.
157. When "Cato" was first brought out
Steele ■ ' oduced into the theatre a nur
berof on's admirers from the Inns of
Cou. t.
162. Atticus — Addison is intended.
163. Apollo — The god of music and poetry
among the Greeks and Romans.
forked hiii -Mount Pamas:;us, hi Greece,
often referred to by the poets as having two
peaks.
164. Bafi' — C!')arlc« Montap ?, Riiri of
Halifas, at. oiiinent statesman and a liberal
i)atrop of ,iien of letters. Macaulay says
of i)im, that after he became Lord of the
Treasury he gave up writing poeUy bimself,
•lut "wiosly determin'd !<>d''ive f: m the
poeiry of others a g'lry ivhich he would
ne\fr have dorix.ed Trora bin own." He
had Mai5y fa'slis, an Abovs all, he was
iasatuibly grcc;'y of praise, and liked it best
when I'. wu;~ <)i the coarsest and rankest
quality." Sen Green's History of the English
People.
s*): . dedication — Writers rewarded lib-
eral subscribers or sought to gain the favor
of thfi influential, by dedicating books to
them. Of course there were some, such as
Addis^jn, who were not mercenary in their
dedications.
i7i-i7«. seat .... eat — Note the pro-
nunciation. See Earle's Philology of the
English lo.-tguc, sees. 181-183; also sec. 171
for "reserve," 1. 179.
180. " Halifax may have not unreasonably
thought that a Tory poet and Catholic con-
vert, a political convert too, might have had
his wants supplied by his own party."— Pfl«i-
son, Halifax, however, offered to pay the
expenses of Dryden's funeral and to give
£500 for a monument,
188. Gay— Sec Primer of English Litera-
ture. Pope says, " He dangled for twenty
years about a court, and at last was offered
to be made usher to the young princess.'*
This he refused, and soon after went to live
with the Duke of Queensbury, who managed
his money affairs for him. He d-ed worth
f 3,000. There " Gay lived, and was lapped
in cotton and had his plate of chicken and
his sa »' of cream, and frisked and barked
and \ d, and grew fat, and so ended.
, . , . . \ . iferybody loved him." — Thack-
-ray ope wrote an epitaph for Gay's
.. i int.
Other writers of the period coulc say
me ; Addison, Prior, and Steele owed
r-'tions to the vigorous employment
■:■. IS in defence of the Government.
■ party warfare of the time occu-
r... y^^B fjf the ^.ttention of everv
literar> man, But Pope was writing of a
thing of the past; for, in 1735, Walpole's
;98.
♦':■•; :■■
•,! ( if
ofth.
The '
pie
i
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
593
system of bribing members of Parliament |
rather than literary men had been long in
vogue.
Sij. Sir William Yonge, Secretary of
War (1735-1746); a very witty and able
speaker. Bubo— George Bubb Dodington—
Lord Melcombe.
231. Who .... swear— Pope's descrip-
tion of Timon's villa is here referred to.
In the " Moral Essays," 4, 141 and 149. It
is believed that he meant Canons, the mag-
nificent seat of the Duke of Chandos. Here,
however, he wishes to insinuate that the
description was of an imaginary place. The
Duke possessed a very amiable character,
and Pope is said to have tried to escape
from the reproach he thus brought on him-
self by writing him an exculpatory letter.
237. Spoms — Lord Hervey — see 1. loi.
"It seems questionable if the poet's viru-
lence here be not an error in point of art,
as it undoubtedly is an offence against pub-
lic morality. The accumulation of odious
epithets and disgusting images revolts the
imagination and enlists our sympathy against
the writer. Like all overcharged statements,
it arouses mental resistance and prompts
disbelief. .... Every readei feels how
much the picture wants probability." —
Pattison.
251-25J. Sec Book l\.,\.»oo. Paradise Lost.
familiar means attendant spirit. Lurd Her-
vey was the confi<lential adviser of Queen
Caroline, wife of Geo. II.
281. blow unfelt— A story went the rounds
to the effect that Pope was thrashed in tlic
streets of London.
283. Pope's enemies used to publish worth-
less poetry over his name.
285. Pope was extremely sensitive on this
point; he would not allow a full-length por-
trait of himself to be taken ; such are met
with only in contemporary cartoons.
287. friend in exile— Doubtless Atterbury,
bishop of Rochester, who, on being exiled
from England for taking part in Jacobite
plots, joined the Pretender in France.
294-299. " Pope is here expressing a senti-
ment genuine and deep. But mixed up with
this, as seems inevitable in all that comes
from Pope, is a strain of deception. The
lines, as originally conceived, had another
object, and were afterwards altered and
applied to Mis. Pope. When this epistle
was published Mrs. Pope had been dead
eighteen months."— PaMisoH.
ADDISON.
Sir Roger at Church.
Books of Reference— Ward's "Poet«"; Johnson's " Lives"; Macaulay's "Essays";
Jeffrey's "Essays"; Hazlitt's "Comic Writers"; Thackeray's "Humorists"; Green's
" Essays of Addison."
20. churchman— A member of the Church
of England.
27. Common -Prayer Book — The book
containing the Church Service.
55. polite = "polished" or "cultivated."
61. chancel— The part of the church in
which the communion table is placed, and
which is divided from the rest by a railing.
Lat. cancellus. Comment on the meaning of
the other derivatives.
00
63. an one's— At this time "an" was used
before many words where we now use "a."
Probably the initial " u " sound in such words
was not then sounded.
84. tithe-stealers— Amongst the Jews and
early Christians one tenth of the produce of
the land was devoted to the support of the
priest and to other religious purposes. In
later times a tax was substituted therefor.
^li:'
Ihil
594
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
Sir Roger at the Assizes.
17. needs— The s liere is at genitive ad-
verbial ending, of the same origin as the ce
in hence, whence, etc.
18. County Assires — The periodical
courts held by superior court judges in the
different counties.
24. within the grame act— As the law then
stood, no one war. allowed to shoot game
unless possessed of real property producing
£40 a year, or of £200 worth of goods and
chattels. A freeholder with an income of
£100 a year, might take into his own posses-
sion, from an infringer of this enactment, all
the hunting gear found with him.
34. Quarter Sessions— A court held once
every quarter by at least two justices, one of
whom must belong to the quorum.
H i\
MILTON.
Lycidas.
Books of REFERENCE.-Ward's "Poets"; Monograph in "English Men of Letters-
series- Masson's "Life and Times of Milton"; Addison's "Spectator"; Johnson's
"Lives"- Macaulay-s "Essays"; Leigh Hunt's " Imagination and Fancy "; Hazhtfs
"English Poets"; Masson's "Essays"; Macdonald's "English Antiphon '; Brown's
" Milton " ; Jerram's " Lycidas."
The name " Lycidas" was a common one with the ancient writers of bucolic poetry.
The monody, which is eligiac in character, is couched in the form known as the "pas-
toral," which, in its widest sense, may be defined as descr-ptive poetry with the additional
qualities of narrative and dramatic action. Strictly, nowever, "Lycidas" is a poem
descriptive of college life and friendship under an allegory drawn from the life of shep-
herds. Spenser and his contemporaries were especially fond of this species of composition,
which was intended to disentangle the poet from possibly embarrassing local associations
and thus afford him full scope for his imagination. The pastoral disguise is never dropped
except in the digression on fame and in. the passage relating to the corruptions of the
clergy, when another kind of shepherd appears on the scene. The allegory, however,
extends only to King's life, and to Milton's connection with him ; the actual calamity 13
given as it happened. Except the Sonnets, "Lycidas" is Milton's last poem in rhyme.
The apparently irregular metrical system was derived from the Italians,
The prevailing metre is sxa; but this is varied by 3xa lines; the rhymes occur some-
times alternately, but often at longer and irregular intervals.
I. once more— Milton here intimates that,
although he has given up poetical composi-
tion, he returns to it once more, that he may
offer a tribute to the memory of his friend.
This is more probable than to suppose that
he refers to previous elegiac compositions—
On the Death of a Fair Infant, and Epitaph
on Marchioness of Winchester. The plants
mentioned in II. 1-2 are not peculiar to Elegy ;
they are symbolic of poetry in general.
3-7. The term "harsh and crude" refer to
his estimate of his early poetical composi-
tions. Some years before his affection for
his friend impelled him to write this elegy,
he had expressed his resolution not to hasten
the time of his "inward ripeness."— For
"forced,"cf. 1. 6.
6. The "occasion" was "sad" in itfeelf,
but the object was "dear." Dear may,
however, mean " important."
8. dead .... prime — King was only
twenty-five when he died ; he had been
destined for llie chuich, and was noted for
his piety, scholarship, excellent talents, and
amiable characte-.
i
EX PL A NA TOR Y NO TES.
595
10-11. He knew. . . . rime— A Lat. idiom
for " ho knew how," etc. In " build the lofty
rime," Milton imitates also the Latin, where,
however, the word "condere" (to build)
originally meant "to put together." rime
from the O. E. rim is here correctly spelt, the
modern spelling is based on the supposition
that it is connected with " rhythm."
13- welter, "to roll" (u;a/low,Lat. to/t)-o).
14. melodious tear (by Meton), "mourn-
ful strain."
15-16. We have the invocation usual in
poems of this nature. The " sacred well" is
Aganippe on Mt. Helicon in Boeotia; the
"seat of Jove" is the altar to Jupiter on the
same hill. Some talte the reference to be to
the fountain of Pieria, near Mt. Olympus, in
Thessaly.
18. coy— Formerly used of things as well
as of persons.
19-22. The poet's meaning is:— "As the
Muses enable me to honor the memory o*'
my friend, so may some gentle poet record
my praises when I am in my tomb."— my
destined urn—" the tomb destined for me."
Amongst the Greeks and Romans the ashes
ot the dead were placed in urns and kept in
their houses. With lucky words favor has
in Lat. and Gr. a technical sense, meaning
"to speak words of good omen." The old
Roman wish was " May the earth sit light
upon thee." my sable shroud is by some
regarded as being equivalent to " my gloomy
tomb." Possibly, however, it means simply
" grave clothes."
23- the self-same bill = "Cambridge";
Fed the same flock = " were companions in
study " ; old Damoetas (1. 36), = " a poetical
name for some college fellow " ; rural ditties
(1« 32), — " their Latin and Greek verses."
27-28. heard . . . winds = " heard the horn
of the gray-fly at the time when the winds,"
etc. Frequent allusions occur in Milton's
poetry to his habit of early rising, sultry
horn ; in accordance with a classical idiom
an epithet is used instead of an adv. phrase
of time,
32. ditty (Fr.<<tcf«; LslL dictum) -. Proper-
ly means the words j. a song as opposed to
the suL ; applied herd tr me short poems.
32. oaten flute; a flute made from the
stem of the oat ; chosen l)y English poets as
the emblem of pastoral poetry.
34. Milton may here possibly refer to the
less studious spirits amongst his fellow stu-
dents.
45. canker ; a swelling on the blossom of
the rose caused by a caterpillar's bite.
46. taint-worm — According to Sir T.
Browne, the "taint" is a spider of a red
color, supposed by the country people to bo
deadly poison to cows and horses. If this
is what Milton means, "worm" is used in a
general sense.
50-55. This kind of address was a favorite
one with Greek and Latin poets, the steep
is supposed to bo a hill in Denbighshire,
where the ..'. ' uids are said to bo buried.
54-55. Mona ; Anglesey— Deva ; The Dee,
the boundary bet- ~ ngland and Wales.
" ' ,iu changing of his fords.
The future ill or good of either country told,"
56, What is the old meaning of " fondly "?
58-63, Orpheus, a mythical personage—
the son of tho Muse Callipe. Presented
with a lyre by the good Apollo and instruct-
ed in its use by the muses, he enchanted with
his music, not only the wild beasts, but the
trees and rocks so that they moved from
their places to follow him. Various other
fictitious.' '.V -, '? told of his extraordinary
musical pi <. j. Among them is the follow-
ing, which is referred to in the text:— He
followed nis lost wife Euredice into the
abode of Hades, and won her back on con-
dition that he should not turn to look at her
until they had arrived at the upper world.
Unable to restrain his curiosity to see if she
was following him, he looked round just as
they were about to pass the fatal bounds,
when she was caught back into the infernal
regions. His grief for her loss led him to
treat with contempt the Thracian woman,
who in revenge tore him to pieces during
one of their orgies. His head was thrown
into the Hebrus, down which it rolled to the
sea and was carried to Lesbos. Tho myth
probably refers to the introduction aui,
power of music.
?'i
'■ K'i ii
1 1
i
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"^H
"fll
'
■ i r
1 1
t
f
1
596
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
64-84. Wd have now the first digression ;
the shepherd becomes the poet. The
thought is: What does one gain by the
laborious pursuit of I' .''• •' ' ..iialsso
uncertain. I'licebus, uo'vever, reminds hiui
that fame, the reward oi noble deeds, lives
on in Heaven after death.
66. meditate .... Muse =•" to compose
a song by which no recompense is obtained."
67. A reference to the fashionable love-
poetry of his day, Amaryllis and Neaera
being common poetical names.
75. According to the Greeks the Fate,
Atropos, cut off with her scissors the thread
of each man's life. In his indignatioi. Mil-
ton calls her a "blind Fury," the Furies
being properly tti aveut,ing deities.
77. touched .... ears — Among the
ancients the ear was regarded as the seat
of memory.
79-80. The meaning may be—
(1) " Nor is it sei ofl to the world in the
gHstering foil, nor does it lie in being widely
known"; or
(2) " Nor does it Ue in the glistering foil
set off to the world, noi n it being widely
■ . ,\m."
,:, u) "foil" willmeau " metal seuing of
a jewel " ; in (a) " some base metal which
looks well to the eye."
8- Dy- Is this = "neyf" or-^ "by i .«-
son ot ?
Bj. Jove or Jupiter was t^ chief of tlie
Roman and Greek p >ds ; i ^bus, or Apollo,
being the god of L> and music.
83. lastly here
.a ' ally."
85. Tue return : the prevailing strain is
marked by an invocation of the pastoral
fountain Arethusa, and of the Mincius, the
native river of the chief Roman bucolic
poet. The fountain was in the island of
Ortygia, near Syracuse ; and the river, now
the Mincio, in Gallia Transpadana : it falls
into the Po near Mantua, Virgil's birthplace.
In Arcades he speaks of " Divine Alpheus,
who, by secret sluice stole under seas to
meet his .A.r8thuse."
87. mood is here used in a technical sense,
signifying a particular arrangement of parts
of the musical scale. One word " mood,"
" a state of mind," comes from the Teutonic
muth, an "impulse."
88. oat -by Meton— for " Pastoral Song."
89. listens, so that he may be properly
inspired. The " herald " of the sea is Tri-
ton, whose trumpet was a conch.
90. Neptune's plea— Neptune, th king of
the sea, is here represented as senUin^ his
son and herald Triton to make his excuse or
pleading for the death of Lycidas. Milton
evidently intended to represent Nepti uoas
desirous of clearing himself of blame Lv a
strict inquiry into the conduct of his ser-
vants.
95. " They could give no account of biiu."
96. Hip*.. Jes, another name fc I'Rolus,
the god of the winds. The epithet -age"
is probably used merely with referent. the
weight of his responsibility.
99. Panopt—pan-o-pc — A Nereid, or se;.-
nymph. The name means "wide vii ",
hence probabi>- nsed here to suggest a i aim
expanse of water.
loi. The superstition that an eclipse por-
tends evil is a very old one. Here its evil
effects are represented as extending to works
performed during its occurrence.
102. sacred— That is, "consecrated by
my love."
103. Camun, or the river Cam, is, in ac-
corujnce with classical poetic usage, repre-
sented as luourning for Lycidas. The des-
cription given suits the river. The term
"sire" refers to the supposed protecting
power of rivers; thus Horatius Codes in
"The Defence of di. Bridge": "O Tiber,
fathnr Tiber, to whom the Romans pray,"
etc.
105. fip fts dim— Possibly in allusion to
the antiquity of Cambridge, or emblema ic
of the desolation caused by the d th of his
" dearest pledge."
io6. that sanpiine .... wo«« -The Hya-
cinth. Hyacinthus, in classical mythology,
was a youth of extraordinary beauty, beloved
by Apollo ^ad zephyrus (or the west -n-ind).
He returned the love of the former, and
as be was playing at quoits with the god,
ih
'ord "mood,"
the Teutonic
istoral Song."
' be properly
lie '..ea is Tri-
:h.
le, th' king of
s seiiUiiik! his
his excuse or
:idas, Milton
It Nepti.uo as
>f blame Liv a
ct of his ser-
:ount of biiu."
me ft iTJolus,
pithet -age"
ifereni. the
ereid, or ser.-
'wide vie i ",
luggest a calm
n eclipse por-
Here its evil
ading to works
ice.
msec rated by
lam, is, in ac-
; usage, repre-
las. The des-
sr. The term
>ed protecting
ius Codes in
": "O Tiber,
Romans pray,"
in allusion to
or emblema !C
le d' itb of his
roo— The Hya-
cal mythology,
)cauty, beloved
he west Ti-2ud).
e former, and
with the god,
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
597
Zephyrus out of jealousy drove Apollo's
iiuoit with such violence aKainst the head
ol Hyacinthus that he tell down dead. From
his blomi sprang tho hyacinth, in Iho leaves
ol which appeared the exclamation of woe.
AI, AI (cf. I. 511), or the letter Y, the initial
ol the Greek form of the name.
107. pledge -child — As if a pledge of
conjugal love.
109. H' re, as in Paradise Lost, Mi'ton in-
troduci .rred characters amonKst those of
classical luytholoKy. See Luke V., 3. For
the reason of the reference to St. Peter, see
nolo on 1. 8.
III. One metal indicates the advantage of
admission ; tho other the unbending severity
of exclusion.
1 13. 131, St. Peter urpes three grounds of
complaint:— (i) the corruption of the clergy
(11. 114-118), (2) their ignorance ui the divine
truth, (1 19-127), and (3), see note on 11. 128-
119. mouths, by Melon, = "gluttons."
laa. They are sped - " they are provided
for."
123-12) ICven their miserable instructions
are dealt out only when it suits their con-
venience, scrannel, = an onomatopoetic
word, descriptive of the squeakint; sound
produced by a pipe of this description.
125 131. The hungry sheep are the ' ng
lish people, are not fed. Cf. "The swelling
mood of a proud clergy, who will not ser\ •
or feed your souls with spiritu.il food.'
Reason of Church Government, wind sind
rank mist refer to the " windy " and un-
wholesome misleading doctrines of the
clergy.
grim wolf— (a) Dy some, is taken to mean
" Laud," in which case devours apace refers
to tl'.e religious persecutions of the time;
nothing said, to the patient endurance of
the people, an.l two-handed engine, to
Laud's downfall ; privy paw (= secret abduc-
tion), having apparently no point (for Laud
and the High Commission Court were any-
thing but secret in their acts), unless it refers
to the secrecy oft meetings. Thisexplan.i-
tion is vei; itnE':_b:;b:e, fur '"Lycidas" v.-.ir.
written about iG,v, and Laud was executed
in 1645. (*) By uthers, it is with more plausi-
bility supposed to ri n to the Koin.mi/tng
influences of the time, .icling secretly iprivy
paw),.iiul unchecked hy the Court ,uid I'rel-
acy (nothing said), wiiis wliich Milton m.iy
or ni.iy not luvu idcntilic-d Laud; ili(> two-
handed engine -a nut.tphor b.iseil on the
common simile of " the axe laid to ilie root
of tho tree" — being I'le hoii('<l for nlorm.i-
tion in tho relli;ions corruptions of the day,
or the inlhu'iiie of tho Scriptures— old and
new— ttwo-handed)— on which Milton tiilly
relied. Masson supposes a possible refer-
ence to the two houses of Parliament that
were to deliver England.
132. The return from tlu iligrcsslon in II.
64-84 is marked by an invocation of the foun-
tain Arethuso ; here tho rctinii i.i the pre-
vailing mood is marked by an iddicss to
Alpheus, the lover of the nymph of the
fountain.
132-133. Tho reference is to the fall of
Paganism before the power of Christ,
133. The Sicilian Muse is the muse of the
bucolic poet Theocritus, who w.i-; born iti
Sicily. Here, ho\%ever, the term stands for
pastoral poetry in general.
136-151. use ^ " haunt " ; swart star =
" the dog star"; swart =" black," in refer-
ence to the cfTect of heat on vegetation or
simply = "injurious"; sparely — "r.irely ";
quaint-enamelled --" curiously painted a.s
if on enamel"; rathe — "early " ; forsaken
— .1 eference to the modest tlower that
" fi' IS beneath the thorn"; Shakespeare
r.riiU it unwedded ; freaked =" freckled";
amaranthus, a Gr. wor<l — " unfading" ; the
flower is purple; laureate = (i) " decked
with laurel," in reference to King's poetical
abilities, or (2) mourned by " the Umel-
crowned," re, poets, hearse (i) "a
tomb," or (2) "a ilatform decorated with
black hangings, and containing an image of
the departed one." With this passage cf.
what Perdita says in Winter's rate, IV., iii.
According to Ruskin, Fancy s s the out-
side, and is able to give a ponrait of the
outside, clear, bii'liant, and full of detail.
Imagination sees the J.oart and inner na-
ture, and makes them felt, but is often ob-
scure, mysterious, and interrupted, in its
giving of outer dcir.ii , thus ii. 142, 145, and
147 are example of Imagination, and II. 144
and 146 of I-'aucy, 148 being mixed.
598
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
} J
I .j«;t
ti !
■ ■ >■- i, '
ija-iji. For 80— This refers to the pre-
vious mention of the hearse of Lycidas.
" For, to interpose a little ease, lot our frail
thoughts daily so (i.e., by supposing his
body on its hearse before us), with false
surmise." lurmise usually means conjec-
ture ; what is its meaning here?
154-155. shorei— The supposition Is that
the bo<ly is washed to the shore ; shore
being, not the land, but the waters near the
land— those that divide (s'lffr) the land from
the sea. Does far away mean "to a great
distance," or at a great distance?
158. monstrous— The ending om$ has here
its proper force. What is therefore the
meaning of the epithet ?
159. moist vows = " tearful vows."
iCo. fable = " fabled abode." Bellerus, a
name formed from Bellerium, now called
Land's End. Cf. Pope, in Windsor Fomt,
t. 316, " From old Bellerium to the nortliern
main."
161-162. The g^uarded mount is a rock
opposite Marazion, near Penzance. On it
are the ruins of a fortress (hence " guarded ")
and a monastery, with a church dedicated
to St. Michael. The great vision refers to
the tradition that in a seat near the summit,
called St. Michael'" chair, apparitions of the
great archangel liave been seen. Naman-
cos, a place on the east of Cape Finisterre,
with the Castle of Bayona to the south.
163. According to some, the Angel here ad-
dressed is St. Michael ; according to others,
Lycidas himself. T he context seems to favor
the former view, on account of the contrast
in " Look homewards," and " Looks towards
Namancos," etc., and of the inappropriate-
ness of 1. 164 to the other view,
164. The Allusion is to various ancient
stories of the kindness of dolphins to those
who have fallen into the sea. The >t
familiar is that of Arion. There is albo a
legend of a dolphin which used to carry a
boy daily on its back, backwards and for-
wards from Baiae to Puteoli.
165-185. "The common conclusion of a
funeral elegy is the beatification of the
deceased."
i68. day-star— This may 1)0 the sun; but
the ancients often spoke of Lucifer and Hes-
perus in this way.
170. trlcka ■-=' " adorns " ; era = " golden
lustre."
173. Sec Matthew xiv., 32-23.
176. unexpressive =» "inexpressible;"
nuptial long. See Rev. xix., 6-7.
177. meek «»" peaceful." Note this order.
—The Romans used their adj. mitis in the
same way in mitia signa,
i8r. See Rev. vU., 17 ; «i., 4 ; Isaiah, xxv.,
182. See nDte on 1, 108. The transition
hero grates somewhat upon one's feelings.
But we mi: St regard the tre,-»tment of the
subject as purely poetical. Milton's object
is, of course, to return to the prevailing
mood of the poem.
184. In ... . recompense — A classical
construction = "in large recompense to
thee."
186. uncouth here means " uncultivated."
Comment on the present meaning and the
etymology of the word.
188. stops quUls— here = " the holes
in a wind instrument of music " ; properly
' ' coverings for them . " various quills refers
to the irregular style and mixed methods of
this elegy. See digressions and passages in
which various sacred and mythological per-
sonages are introduced,
189. Doric lay = " pastoral poetry " ; Doris
in Greece being the land of Bucolic poetry.
190. The reference is to the shadows of
the hills.
192. twitched — "drew hastily" either
round him, the evening now being chill, or
up, his mantle having lain beside him. blue
—the usual color ol a shepherd's dress;
some have supposed an Allusion to Presby-
terianism.
193. We have here, as Prof. Masson ob-
serves, "a pulling intimation t.tst tiie".~agi»
nar shepherd is Milton himself, and that
the poem is a tribute to his dead friend,
rendered passingly in the Liidst of other
.11
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
599
occiipiitions." The poet i>i,iy, howevor, refer
to his Italian tour, whirJi he was now |>rolv
ably contemplatiiit;. It is iinprobablo that,
at thi date of the composition ot " Lyciiias,"
ho wan thlnkinK of tho part lio would take
ill iiolitical affairs.
SoNNFT— J. Sre Mtitthfw xxv. Milton
inodcsily claims but one talent.
SHAKESPEARE.
The Trial Scene— "The Merchant of Venice."
DooKS OF REFKRENCE.-Dowdcn's Oervinns's. and Hudson's "Con.mcntarics";
Abbott's "Shalcespearian Gramtnar"; Coleridge's "Literary Retnans"; De Qu.nrey .
-Essays"- Hazlitt's -Char-tcferB"; Mrs. Jameson's "Char.tcter.st.cs of Wou.on ;
L.-tmb's Works; Lowell's "Among my Docks"; Mrs. Cowdon CUrko'» "Concordance to
Shakespeare"; and Schmidt's " Shakespeare Lexicon."
The measure is ^xa; but the greater part of the lines show somo vari.ition front this; <1*
Is common at the beginning of a line (see 11. i-.) and. to somo extent. ..f.er the C»sura (sec
1 46) ■ llRht-touchod syllables are frequently suppressed (see 1. 3). and sc.met.mes a heav y
syllable is prolonged into two. At the end of a lino an extra unaccented (Am.mHr)
syllable is very common (see 1. 3) ; the same is occasionally met w.th after the c»sura.
I. This and 1. a form either a trimeter
couplet, or one alexandrine
What— A common exclamation of Impa-
tience.
4. An alexandrine.
5. Uncapable; "un" is often used where
we have " in" ; and vice versa,
6. A line in scansion is often divided be-
tween two or more speakers.
3. obdurate— The accent in Elizabethan
English was often nearer the end of a word
than at present. Note the omission of " that "
and its insertion in 1. 9.
10. «*u i-y = malice ; a common meaning in
Shakespeare.
20. remorse = relenting.
22. where = whereas.
29. Enow— A common spelling in former
times ; sometimes regarded as the plural of
•'enough."
35. possessed = informed ; put into pos-
session.
the omission of the subject relative In the
line.
52. Not an alexandrine— ttiP ending being
light.
56. Note omission of subject.
58. Note tho effect of stress on " will."
43. Not an alcxaadriue.
47. gaping pig— Perhaps " a baked pig's
head on a table " ; or a squealing pig. Note
67. ofifenc.i — Resentment arising from
offence.
6g. the Jew— Evidently a general term,
not merely "the well-known Shylock."
" The Turk" is a common expression denot-
ing the race. Cf. 1. "Jewish heart," 1. 79.
75. Note the omission of the verb "bid"
before "to make." "The Elizabethan au-
thors objected to scarcely any ellipsis, pro-
vided the deficiency could easily bo supplied
from the context." (Abbott.)
103. Upon—" In accordance with."
109-110. The scansion of these two lines is
peculiar ; the first part of 1 . 1 10—' 'Bring .. .
letters "—forms also the latter part of 1. 109,
belonging, for the scansion, equally to each.
The "amphibious section" of Mr. Abbott.
( Shakespearian Grammar.)
118. Note that Nerissa is the companion
of Portia and wife of Gratiano.
8 SI riF,';a|; H
600
EXPLANATORY NOTES.
:|»f3
ii <
130. Pythagoras— An ancient Greek phil-
osopher wlio taught the doctrine of transmi-
gration of souls.
T33. who— Used absolutely with "hang-
ed"; the relative was often used thus by
Elizabethan writers.
15). danger— The old meaning of this
word was " the absolute power of the feudal
lord" (Skeat) ; who may inflict injury, hence
"in danger" is " in a position to receive in-
jury."
1C3. strained -Forced, granted " on com-
pulsion."
193. truth— Fairness, honesty,
227. Hath .... relation— Applies fully.
330. more elder — Double comparatives
and superlatives are common in Shakes-
peare—mainly for emphasis,
234. balance — "The plural and posses-
sive of nouns ending in s, se, ss, ce, ge, are
frequently written and more frequently pro-
nounced, without the additional syllable."
—Abbott's Shakapearian Grammar.
240. do--The sequence of tenses requires
"did."
254. speak .... death — Speak well oi
me after I am dead.
260. Jests in the midst of tr.isjic scenes are
not uncommon in Shakespeare. '' So close-
ly are smiles allied to tears."
262. Which — In Shakespeare's time
"which" had not yet become the neuter
relative.
277. pursue— Accent the first syllable.
280. I-ines having two or three accents
are sometimes met with.
291. See note 11. xog-iio.
299. Soft !— Exclamations are frequently
written by themselves.
307-9, in the substance .... scruple—
" A grain, or the fraction of a grain."
311. confiscate— Verbs ending in "«'■ often
drop the past participle termination.
312. When a word is repeated in a line he
first often has two accents and the second,
one.
347. sbalt— Note the use of future tense
for ihe subjunctive mood.
360. To quit, etc.—" Remit the fine as well
as the forfeiture."
362. in use— To manage for Lorenzo, Shy-
lock's son-in-law, giving hii.i the procef Is,
and when Shylock died, the iiiincipal also.
366. presently— At once. Conwient on
the present nkeaning.
368. all ... . possessed 'In relative
clauses the preposition is often *i'' repeat-
ed."
378, ten more—" To make up the twelve
jurymen."
391. cope— Requite, withal, often usad
merely as " with,"
• ! I
e tho neuter
i syllable,
hree accents
re frequently
. . scruple-
rain."
iR in "/''often
lation.
d in alinu he
d the second,
f future tense
he fine as well
Lorenzo, Shy-
the procer> Is,
iiincipal ako.
Comtdcnt on
'In relative
in 'r> repeat-
up the twelva
d, often used