THE STUDY OF LITERATURE.
inaugural ^ecture
Delivered in the Convocation Hall,
October IPAh, 1889,
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BY
W> J.-ALEXANDER, Ph. D.,
Professor of English in University College, Toronto.
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THE STUDY OF LITERATURE-
This chair, of which I have the honor to be the first
incumbent, is officially entitled the Chair of Eng-
lish, and includes, therefore, two very important and
distinct, though connected subjects, English Literature
and English Language. It is to the former that I in-
tend to direct your attention to-day ; not that I am dis-
posed to undervalue the second of these subjects ; on the
contrary, of such importance do I deem it, that I hope
the day may come when there will be in this Univer-
sity a chair devoted entirely to the English Language.
But in the scheme of that liberal culture which is the
aim of college training, I think it vi'ill not be question-
ed thiit English Literature is the more essential and
more important of the two. If I mistake not, this
chair is regarded primarily as a chair of English Lit-
rature b}'' the University authorities as well as by the
geneial public of this province. As therefore, it is im
possible within the limits of this inaugural lecture
to treat both divisions satisfactorily, I will confine my-
self on the present occasion to the subject which I con-
sider it to be my main business here to teach, viz., to
Literature.
Perhaps there is no subject or study in which there
is a more pjeneral and widely diffused interest than in
literature. All who read, and they in our day and
generation constitute a very numerous and varied class,
are in so far students of literature. It is partly for this
very reason, from the fact that so many ill- trained
and half-trained mirids are in some measure devoted
to its pursuit, that the aims and methods of literary
culture are so generally misapprehended. The pop-
ularizing of a subject brings the cluims of mediocrity
to the forefront, and there follows the inevitable attempt
to find some easy mechanical method whereby the
secret of literary enjoyment and litei'ary culture may be
attained. Men adopt the method, and ignorant of the
true outcome of literary training, are unconscious that
they miss the aim. Perhaps, for example, the aspirant
to culture conscientiously wades through a supposed
authoiitative list of the one hundred best books. He
completes his tale, the incongruous selection of individ-
ual caprice — the Iliad, the Koran, Don Quixote, Sartor
Resartus and so on — without one moment of keen liter-
ary enjoyment, unthrilled by a single passage, with
scarce an iota of permanent result in the shape of in-
tellectual openness, flexibility, and polish which litera-
ture ought to give. He has won only the self content-
ment and self satisfaction of the sciolist, the worst
outcome of that dangerous thing, a little knowledge.
It is not- thr reading of many books, be they one hun-
dred or one thousand, but the manner in which they are
read that is essential. One play of Shakespeare pro-
perly studied and properly appreciated will do more for
literary culture than countless books, however excel-
lent, read as most people read them. I think it very
necessary therefore that, in entering on our work to-
gether, we should come to an understanding as to the
aim of our studies, and the results which we expect to
flow from them, and as to the methods by which these
results arc likely to be beat attained.
The term literature, like most others, is ambiguous
in its use, and susceptible of a wider or of a narrower
meaning. If we take it in its widest sense, in the sense
sanctioned by its etymology, literature is written
thought. Anything written, provided it is not a mere
jumble of words or letters, hut represents some idea,
belongs to the domain of literature. Of the infinite
thoughts which have swept in ceaseless streams through
the numberless minds of successive generations, a few
were recorded, and of these again, a few are still pre-
served in written language. This is our material, be the
nature of the ideas and the form of the expression what
they may. Not merely the stately epic, the e'iborate
philosophical treatise, but the familiar letter, the monu-
mental inscription, the scribbled sentences on Pompeiian
walls, form a part of the literature of the world. So
that we may find ourselves concerned not only with
such works as "The Iliad" or "Lear," but with others like
" Euclid's Elements," or Darwin's " Origin of Species,"
whose claim to the title " "^ literature would be less
6
generally admitted. In periods fertile of books, it is
true, the purely literary student gives such works
scant attention, but in more barren times he is glad
enough to consider them. The historian of Early
English Literature readily admits the baldest state-
ments of facts, and does not scruple to dignify the
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and the Laws of Ine with the
name of Literature.
Since, then, literature includes all sorts of books,
philosophical, historical, scientific, and so on, we must
next ask, how is the work of the student of literature
differentiated from that of the philosopher, or historian ?
It is evident he is concerned with books only in so far as
they are literature, i.e., only so far as they are the ex-
pression of thought. One book may be intended to
enlarge the bounds of philosophical knowledge, another
to teach political economy, and in so far the aim of one
book and one writer differs from that of another. But
this much they all have in conunon, they are all repre-
sentative of certain phases of thought and feeling in
the mind of the writer, and it is his intention to
reproduce these phases in the minds of others. It
is the business of the student of literature to realize
that intention. The written symbols are before him;
it is for him to reproduce within himself the mental
condition to which these symbols correspond. His
work is simply that of interpretation. The scientific
man reads the " Origin of Species " mainly to get at the
truth which it may contain or suggest. The literary
student, as such, stops short of that ; it is his peculiar
business to dotermine what exactly Darwin meant. So
it is, that we students of literature are interested in all
departments of thought, and yet stand apart from and
outside ot all. Let us suppose, for example, that we
are sceptical of the utility of philosophic discussion, as
such, thiid^ metiiphj'sics a fruitless wrangle. Yet that
does not prevent us, in the course of our study of the
literature of England in the 18th century, from being
deeply interested in the works of Locke, Berkeley, and
Hume. We set ourselves to determine just what these
treatises of theirs contain and mean, not necessarily
because we suppose they will afford any substantial
philosophical result, but because we want to know
what men have thought, because of the insight we
srain into the character of these writers, and of the
age and nation in which they lived.
It must not, however, be granted that, because the
v/ork of the student of literature is thus limited to in-
terpretation, it is thereby adjudged to be unsatisfactory
or superficial. Interpretation in its fullest sense gives,
as 1 hope to show before I close, abundant scope for the
highest exercise of our faculties, and leiads.to the pro-
foundest investigation of human nature. At times,
indeed, our task is comparatively easy. Euclid writes ;
"Two straight lines which are parallel to the same
straight line, are parallel to one another," and this is a
proposition whose terms we have merely to compre-
hend, in order to attain Euclid's point of view in writ-
ing i . But if we turn, for example, to the works of
Herodotus, we find numerous stories whose terms in-
8
«lec(l arc not less ensily comprehended than tliosc of
Euclid, but which strike us as childish or incredible.
In merely understanding their iMirporthave we repro-
duced ITerodotus's state of mind in writing them ? Did
.the stories seem childish or incredible o him? The
question calls for lit(Mary investigation. The student
must examine the whole work of Herodotus, and deter-
mine its general scope. He finds that it professes to
be a serious history,and comes to the conclusion, perhaps,
that Herodotus gives the narratives under considera-
tion in all seriousness and good faith. Still he does
not understjind the author's state of mind in writing the
passage. How came a man of evident intellectual
power and culture to believe fables whose absurdity is
manifest to the school boy of to-day ? To answer this
question the student betakes himself to the study of
Greek history and Greek modes of thought : and until
he has thrown himself into Hellenic life of the iifth cen-
tury and grasped Herodotus's relation to the civilization
of his time, he will not have attained the aim of liter-
ary stud}'', the reproduction in one's self of the writer's
state of mind. Or again, before we can be said to under-
stand the Dialogues of Plato, we have many problems
to solve. In the Socrates here represented, did Plato
intend to give a picture of the historic Socrates? In
how far are the opinions put in Socrates's mouth held by
the author himself ? What is the explanation of the
manifest fallacies which occasionally mar the reasoning
of the dialogues ? In answering the last question the
student learns how the intellectual power even of a
Plato is subjocb to tlio limitations of his time, and un-
able, without the assistjiiuM) of a Ibrmulntocl loijic, to
escape the snare of siniple fallacies, and how the study of
a laniruairc other than the native tongue was needful to
enable men to distinu^uish between the thinLj and its
nauie. Such eixjuiries as these give the positive results of
literary work. How necessary these preliminary deter-
minations are in order that the works of Heiodotus
and Plato may be used by the historian and philosopher
respectively, is sulHciently app»Vient. So in all depart-
ments of study, written authorities nuist be submitted
to the crucible of'hiohci- ci-itieism (as it is called) before
they may be safely and profitably employed. We
may realize the importance of such work by recalling
the fact that the most interesting and one of the most
active provinces of the higher criticism in our day is
the canon of the Old and New Testaments. The
revision of the Authorized Version is an attempt by
literary students to determine more exaetlv what the
various sacred authors actually said ; whiles the recent
discussion between Professors Wace and Huxl(;y has
drawn popular attention to the un])recedented activity
of scholars in determining the authenticity^, dates, and
relations of the various books of the Bible.
With the increasing of these positive results, however
we, in our course, have but little to do. Literature is
with us an instrument of culture, and culture comes
not from the results of investigation, but irom the pro-
cess. In the process of literary investigation, as we
have seen, it is sometimes necessary for us to grasp the
10
spirit of a nation or of an age. At other times, we
must find our solution in the individual character of a
writer. It may be, for example, that on comparing
the works of Thucydides with those of the almost con-
temporary Herodotus, we should conclude that the pecu-
liarities of the latter's history are due, not so much to he
times, as to the personal character of the author hita-
self. Thus the study of literature becomes the study
of human natui'e under varying conditions, Its fun-
damental requisite is, that the student should escape
from himself, his own narrow conceptions and sur-
roundings, that he should sympathize with, so far as to
understand (for understanding postulates S3^mpathy)
men of very different character, in times and countries^
perhaps, remote from his, with feelings and modes of
thought even more remote. In no other pursuit is he
in contact with such a variety of ideas, in no other
study has he to make them so thoroughly his own.
He has not done with them, as the scientific student,
when he ascertains that they are false; he must com-
prehend their genesis, and how, though false, they once
seemed true, whether the explanation lies in the writer
or in his age. He becomes at home and at ease among
ideas, as is the man of the world among men. As those
qualities which characterize the man of the world are
acquired through intercourse with men of various types^
and not through intercourse simply, but through being
obliged to use and to manipulate them ; so the analog-
ous discipline of literature gives the analogous qualities
of intellectual openness and flexibility, which in turn,
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11
beget u tolerance and coolness of judgment especially
characteristic of thorough culture. The student of
science conies into contact witli facts ; interrogated
nature suys that a thing is so or not so. The student of^
literature comes into contact with ideas, moulded to the
mind which formulated them, intermixed with error
and modified by emotion. He is under the necessity
of comprehending how the form of a concei)tion is the
result of character and surroundings. He learns to do
this in books of a more or less remote past, often treat-
ing questions in which he has no immediate interest,
and vvliich he can therefore view with coolness and im-
partiality. Having acquired this habit of mind in a
remote sphere, he is rendered capable of maintaining
it in examining the burning questions of the day.
Here, too, he analyses and makes allowance. He
comprehends the relativity of truth, the inevitable
limitations of the human intellect, the common obli-
quity of mental vision w^hich afflicts whole generations.
The novelty or apparent absurdity of an idea does
not repel him. He is ready to investigate the grounds
of an opinion with which he does not agree, and the
residuum of truth w'hich forms the basis of most errors,
will not improbably serve to render his own concep-
tions more just. His comprehension of his opponent's-
position enables him to attack it more effectively, and
to hold his own more surely. Were we absolutely
fixed in relation to all objects, the visible world would
appear to us a flat surface. Not less necessary is it that
in the intellectual world we should be capable of assum-
(yi
12
ing different points of view. To the man of undisci-
plined mind, nothing is more difficult. The presentation
of the other side of a question causes him an uneasy
feeling of insecurity and irritation. To him moral obli-
quity seems the necessary source of opinions differing
irom his own. The men in Gay's fable who disputed
about the color of the chameleon, afford a typical ex-
ample of the state of mind from which literary discipline
tends to set us free. Not chameleons alone, but political
questions, social questions, religious questions, present
different aspects under different circums;tances. Here,
then, are two great results which may be expected to
flow from all genuine literary training — first, openness /
of mind, that is, a readiness to admit ideas however
strange, and to comprehend and accept whatever of
truth they contain : secondly, flexibility of mind, the
capacity to seize a point of view not our own, to under-
stand other men and other times, — what, in short, we
may call intellectual sympathy.
You will note that these qualities of mind are
developed by the intellectual gymnastics of seizinof the
ideas of others, of putting ourselves at their standpoint.
Hence they are results that ibllow from the study of
. everything that can be called literature, however little
inherent excellence it may possess. But we have fur-
ther to consider the study of literature in its narrower,
higher, and perhaps more usual, sense. All presentation
of thought which has maintained permanent vitality,
possesses a certain power, fitness, or beauty of ex-
pression ; for, as thougTit when once expressed becomes
13
common property, mankind naturally cares to preserve
the words, not of him who expressed it first, but of
him who expressed it best. In these treasured utter-
ances we have not the mere colourless presentation of
an idea, or of an objective fact ; there is an additional
element of form impressed by the writer, and the liter-
ary student finds here wide scope for the interpre-
tative function. The entering completely into the
thought of an author was in the case of purely objec-
tive statements, such as those of Euclid, a simple matter.
In Herodotus the interest and difficultv of our task
were increased by the introduction of a subjective
element. And, in general, it is true that the less purely
objective the thought is, and the more the author im-
presses on it his personality, his emotions, — sets it
before us, not exactly as it is, but as it appears to him,
the more does the student of literature find himself
concerned with it. This subjective factor in literature
makes itself generally felt through the manner, the
form ; and the most pervading manifestation of form
is style Style is that in the written thought which
corresponds to the personality of the writer, and is
the outcome of that personality. Two narratives may,
as you are well aware, affect the reader very differently,
although the framework of fact in each case may be
the same. The difference in effect cannot result from
the matter ; it arises from the manner or style ; and
that, in turn, comes from the attitude of the writer to-
ward the facts, an attitude which he reproduces in his
reader. As that attitude may be analyzed into two
14
-elements, the permanent element of character, and the
transient element of mood ; so style, reflecting the
varying mood of the writer, is pathetic, or humorous,
or indignant ; and yet, behind all that, there is a con-
stant element of individual chai acteristics which serves
to distinguish one author from another, and to which
we refer in speaking of the style of Demosthenes or of
Virgil, of Burke, or of Milton. "Ze style" says the
adage, ** c'est rhomr}ie." The genuine stylist depicts
himself to the competent literary critic, with uncon-
scious fidelity, in lineaments adequate and unmistake-
able.
Through style, then, we come in contact with that
which is greatest in man, character, — that unity of ten-
dency and impression which springs from all his moral
and intellectual forces. Those who have been fortunate
enough to encounter in life a great and noble person-
ality, know that it is the most inspiring and marvel-
lous of spiritual forces. As the chord in one instrument
responds to the vibrations of its fellow in another, so the
emotions of the human soul vibrate under the influence
of a great and ardent character. But in the limitations
of time, and space, and circumstance, by which our lives
are bound, such encounters must needs be rare ; and
fortunate it is that through literature we are able to
feel the kindling spiritual presence of the mighty dead.
It is true that but few can thus transmit themselves
through the ages ; but these few are among the greatest
spirits of our race. The power of style in the highest
degree is the prerogative of genius alone. When style
15
in that highest degree is present, we are not merely
told how the writer felt, but his feelings are com-
municated to us; not how he saw, but we are enabled to
see as he did ; not what manner of man he was, but we
are introduced into his very presence. In the sphere
of studies, I know nothing comparable to this. History
and biography tell us about men, we see them imaged
in a more or less imperfect medium ; but here we feel
the thrill of their emotions, the power of their presence.
So that, not only does literature bring us into contact
with ideas, the higher literature brings us into contact
with men, the choice and master spirits of all ages.
Here is a society ever open to us, the best and most de-
sirable we can conceive, the truest aristocracy of the
human race in their happiest moods, with their wisest
and deepest thoughts on their lips.
It is in no figurative sense, but in sober truth, that I
call this "society." From what has been said of style,
it is manifest that the influence of a great work on
a competent literary capacity does not differ in kind
from the influence of personal contact. If somewhat is
lost in vividness, many of the limitations of personal
converse are absent. But if in the best literatuie we
find, in no merely hyperbolical sense, "societ}'," it is
like all good society, difficult of access. Not much of
worth in this world but is the reward of merit, of toil,
of patience. The gardens of the Hesperides stood
ever open, but to fetch the golden apples was the
labour of a Hercules. The books are waiting on the
shelves, but he is far astray indeed who thinks to win
the secret of Goethe, of Shakespeare, of him —
16
" Who saw life steadily and saw it whole,
Tho mellow glory of the Attic stage,"
in the same easv fa.shion in which he skims throujjh the
last populur novel, or an ephemeral essay of the period-
ical press. To experience the power of literature, to
appreciate style in its fulness, to feel not merely the
main emotion but the whole complex of emotions with
which a writer regards his sul»ject, is the outcome only
of constant and careful study, combined with a large
innate susceptibility to literary art. Though the
capacity for the highest literary appreciation is not com-
mon, in most men a measure of innate capability is
dormant. To rouse this dormant capability, to guide
it aright when roused, to teach the proper spirit in
which to approach the masterpieces of literature, and
to keep the mind in contact with them, this should form
a main part of every course of literature ; and I claim
that, excluding the other benefits of college work, it
would be no inadequate return, should the student gain
this alone, the appreciation of what is noblest and best
in books, and a love for that august company of whom
we have spoken.
Style is the most pervading manifestation of form.
We find it present when the literary structure is not
otherwise elaborated. Thucydides's History, for ex-
ample, has the simple mould of a chronicle of events
narrated year after year, as they occuvred. Its style,
however, is very marked ; the character of the writer is
felt throughout, and, with consummate skill, he bathes
such narratives as those of plague at Athens or the
17
Sicilian Expedition in a certain emotional atmospliero.
But an author may not merely impress his character
and mood upon his matter, he may shape that matter
itself to the production of certain ettects. Here we
reach liteiaturc in its purest form, — literature which is
literature tii'st of all, not history, or science, or philoso-
phy. In it the writer's aim is primarily artistic, the
embodiinent of a beautiful cone ^.tion in ap])ropriRte
language. Of this species, there are several varieties,
but we may take poetiy as the best and highest repre-
sentative. The poet is in the fullest sense creative ; the
subjective factor reaches its maximum ; and hence poetry
is, in an especial degree, tlu5 subject of the studejit of
literature. In Euclid we have, as near as may be, the
colourless presentation of fact. In Thucydides the
main object is still the presentation of fact, though it
is colored by emotion. Poetry, on the other hand, is
differentiated from these in that the production of
<.imotion is here the chief aim, in subordination to which .
the facts themselves are chosen and moulded. As by
its form, then, so by its aim, poetry is the highest
species of literature. For the higliest manifestations of
human nature arc emotional. Emotion raises morality
to religion. Nay more., the work of Christianity itself
was to introduce the reign of emotion, to substitute |
for the tribunal of an unchanging code, the arbitrament
of an inner and over progressive emotional state.
The stimulation of noble and pleasing emctions is
the aim of the poet. But emotion cannot exist by
itself; it is merely the form, the garb in which s'^'ne-
18
tliinsf more substantiMl is clotlied l)V tha mind : ancl this
suhstaiiC'c, in tlie caso of all i;roat and altidini,^ artistic
work, is truth. No art, no heaiity of expression can
give more than a temporary hold on the minds of the
rap(? to what is fundamentally untrue. Enduring- works
or inia!j;inati()n are not fiction in the sense of hein^-
false ; on the contraiy, ihey are truer emhodiments
of observation and insijiht than the vast niaioritv of
inaTdvind can arrive at for themselves. 'J'here is nuich
false fiction in the world, doubtless, giving misleading
ideas of men and things, — enough to afford .some ground
to the old, fa.shioned prejudice ngainst reading nov( Is.
But falsity is neither a noces. iry characteristic of
fiction, nor a consequence of the unreality ot the per-
sons and events which works of imagination usually
])resent. Falsity can no more be invariably attributed
to what is called fiction, than truth to what is called
history. Indeed, I know not if the .sum total of truth
contained in Enorlish lictio)i be not greater than the sum
total of truth contained in Enolish history. The greatest
English novelist of the last century mockingly called
his works hi.stories, and in the introductions which he
prefixed to the divisions of one of them, humorously
vindicates their claim to truth in comparison with
works usually so denominated. And the claiiii is not
without justification. In the eighteenth century,
Fielding attempted to give a picture of English social
life as it was, Hume of English political life as it had
been ; beyond question Fielding's is the truer work,
as timo has shown it to be the more enduring. Each
19
<Teneration of En^dishmen finds it necessary to re-write
the history of England ; each generation of scholars
the histories of Greece and Rome ; for each sees the
inadequacy of its predecessors* attempts. That inade-
(juacy lies not in the incompetence of the writers,
but in the complexity of their subject and in the
insufficiency of their data. That an historian should
give us in detail an absolutely true picture of the
actual Bi'utus, on existing data, is an impossibility.
But Shakespeare, like the oeometrician, makes his
own hypothesis. He ascribes a certain character to
Brutus, and represents him as influenced by certain
men and certain circumstances, so that the assassina-
tion of Cfxjsar is the natural and inevitable outcome.
The representation is absolutely true, not as a picture
of the historic Brutus, — that it is not tlie business of
the poet to give — but of universal human nature, of how
certain characters would have acted under the influ-
ence of certain surroundings. Tlie truth of the picture
comes from the poet's control over his facts, as the
unvarjdng exactness of geometrical deductions comes
from the arbitrary nature of the fundamental assump-
tions. In a certain sense, truth may be denied to the
results of geometry, inasmuch as they have no exact
correlatives in the real world ; while in another sense
they possess the highest truth, and when applied to the
concrete universe, as in astronomy, give results the
most accurate attained by science. There is a certain
analogy to this in the work of the poet. The truths of
history and biography are at best particular ; to apply
20
them to life, we must generalize them. The representa-
tions of poetry, on the other hand, have an element of
universality. Shakespeare's men and women are, as-
Coleridge says, emboiliments of the universal, indi-
vidualizations of the type ; and eonsecpiently posse.ss
validity everywhere and for all time.
But it is not merely truth of the historic type, —
pictures of human action and character, — that poetry
presents. It presents also truths of a scientific or
philosophic nature. Unlike science and philosophy,
however, poetry, aiming mainly at emotion, confines
itself to a certain range of truths fitted to kindle
this, and is more concerned with the maimer in which
they are expressed than with their novelty. Indeed
they are the old fundamental truths, the patrimony
of the race, intertwined with all our inherited in-
stincts, that poetry treats by preference ; for these
are most deeply rooted in our emotional nature-
Novel truths, on the other hand, it rather shuns;
the intellectual effort in grasping them, and the lack
of unquestioned certainty which attends them, are
fatal to emotional absorption. The novelty of ))oetry
therefore lies in its form, rather than in its material.
Poetry owes its powei to its manner, in virtue of
which it transmutes dead terms a[)prehended by the
intellect only, into living convictions grasped by
the wliole moral nature, which vibrates respon.sive to
them. The difference is illustiated by the analogous
contrast in the sphere of religion, between the cold
assent of reason and the warm embrace of faith. Ac-^
,./
21
cordinpfly, tlio (liffcrenco between the poetic and scicn-
iifie presentation of truth, thouf^h merely one of man-
Jner, is inimeaHurably ^reat. To ^'ive a glimpse of this,
allov^ ine to present an example or two of the same
faets stated scientifically and poetically. In a scientific
work, you mii,djt perhaps find some such statement as
this : " The extin( ,;on of man and of all that ho has
produced is assure<l by the action of certain forces on the
terrestrial globe, which must ultimately result in the
destruction of that body and its return to its primi-
tive nebulous condition." Shakespeare expresses the
same idea ;
"And, like the baseliiss fabric of this vision,
'I'he cloud -capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself.
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
■
And like this iiisu))8tantial pageant faded
Leave not a wrack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep."
Again in the closing chapter of the First Book
of Samuel, we find an historic statement of certain
facts :
"Now the Philistines fought against Israel; and the men of
Israel fled before the Philistines, and fell down slain in Mount
Ciilboa. And the Philistines followed hard iipon Saul and upon his
son ; and the Philistines slew Jonathan, and Abinadad, and Mel-
chishua, Saul's sons," and so forth." :./.
In the following chapter this narrative is fused into
form and beauty by the glowing emotion and imagi-
nation of the poet David :
22
"And David lamontcd with tluH lamontattoii over Saul and over
Jonathan hin Hon. 'r|i«« iHuiuty of IhiiicI is Hlain upon thy high
placua ; how arc; the nii^iity falloii ! Ttill it not in (}ath, piihliMh it
not in tho HtioctH of Ankuh)!! ; IcHt th« daughtoi-H of tho IMiiliHtinen
rejoice, lest the daughterH of tlio uncircunicisud triumph. Yo nioun-
tains of (lilboa, lot there bo no dew, neitlier let tiiere \ni any rain
upon you, nor tiehlH of ofl'eringH ; for tliere the Hhichl of tho mighty
is vilely east away, ti>e sliicld of Saul, as though he had ii(»t boon
anointed with oil. Saul and , Jonathan were lovely and pI'eaHant in
their lives, and in their death they were . »t divided ; they were swifter
than eagles, they were stronger than lions. How are the mighty fallen
in the midst of battle I Oh, ilouathan, thou wast slain in thy high
places ! I am distressed for thee, my brother .Jonathan : very pleasant
hast thou been t(t mo ; thy love to me was wonderful, passing t\\e love of
women. How aro the mighty fallen and the weapons of war perished ! "
Thus in j)()utry vvc do not .stand outside the thouglits
and characters presented, we enter into them ; not
merely the range of our knowledge is widened, but
the range of our experience, thiough that sympathy
with emotion which it is the essence of poetry to
kindle. To us in the somewhat narrowing conditions
of our daily lives, such stimulus and ex|)ansi{)n are
especially necessary. Our surroundings and education
are wont to leave neglected the aesthetic side of our
nature, and except in literature, we have scarcely any
means for its cultivation. In this h\rd, the young
and ardent spirit cannot find food for ideal a -spiration
in the masterpieces of Phidias, or of Praxiteles, of
Raphael, or of Titian. Our College towns are not
Oxfords ; nor can we feel the serene and mnjestic calm
which clings about the Cathedrals of England and ,
Normandy, or the towers and basilicas of Tuscany.
In our native Province we grow to manhood un-
23
touched by, and for the most part, i<jfnoraiit of, tho
leducatinj^ ])ower of plastic art. Perhaps tho very
huildiiio- in wliicli we stand, lias been the first to waken
'in us that elevating senso of beauty and repose which
|archit(;eture can give. The more need then, in the
dearth of other means of aesthetic culture, that we
should have I'ecouise to literature, which i.s fortunately ,
at onc(^ the widest, most erficient, and most easily
api)reciated of artistic forces. Our aesthetic sensibil-
ities form a part of our own nature which liberal
culture; can by no means afford to overlook. On
the individual or nation which neglects or re|>res8es
them, tliey exact vengeance in narrowness of intellect
or morals. The world's history lias more than once
shown, that when the higher emotions are stifled,
the lower assert themselves, and plunge society into
an orgie of sensuality, such as followed the iron
rule of Puritanism in England. Anil not merely
for itself is beautiful emotion desirable. Aristotle,
long ago, noted its purifying effects on the mind. It
cannot, of course, be denietl that aesthetic sensibility
may co-exist with weak moral chai'actcr, and tUat fine
feeling does not necessarily leail to noble action ; yet
its general elevating tendency is none the less real.
The soul vibrating in sympathy with the great deeds
and lofty character, the soul touched with the sense of
human sorrow and human guilt, whether in nature or
art can, for th«i time at least, find no pleasure in any-
thing that is ignoble or degrading. And if the study
of poetry is an emotional discipline and a moral force^
24
it is no less an intellectual discipline and practical aid.
" The highest poetry," Matthew Arnold says, " is at
bottom a criticism of life, and the greatness of a poet
lies in the beautiful and powerful application of ideas
to life, to the question — how to live." It is the busi-
ness of science to attain truth, of poetry, to seize that
truth in as far as it is applicable to life, and to give it
perfect expression. Hence Wordsworth has called
poetry *' the impassioned expression wdiich is the coun-
tenance of all science;" and again, "the breath and
liner spirit of all knowledge." It is in virtue of this
side of his work that the poet is a philosopher and
comes to the assistance of the thoughtful spirit craving
an answer to the great problems of life. PhilosopAjy
or metaphysics attempts to solve these, but studies
so profound and technical require special intellec-
tual endowments, and must ever remain the sphere of
the few. Yet any solution to which the unaided
individual can attain, will inevitably be narrow and
eccentric. It must be broadened from everv source at
command ; and not least, in literature is to be found a
treasure house of aid — suggestions, the more stimulat-
ing that they are but suggestions ; partial solutions the
more enduring that they are but partial, and sometimes
where we least expect it, a complete philosophy im])licit.
So that in poetry we find not ordy a fountain of beauty,
whence we may drain perpetual draughts of joy, but a
store houf-e of wisdom, whence we may draw treasures
new and old, and arm ourselves with weapons for the
battle of life.
25
Thus far we have considered the results — the discip-
line, the knowledge, the enjoyment — which we are to
look for in the study of literature. It remains tlmt I
indicate succinctly the method by which these results
are to be attained. It has been made sufficiently evi-
dent, in the previous part of this address, that our
studies must primarily and chiefly have to do with the
great works of literature themselves, not with facts
about them or their authors, nor with the judgment of
critics concerning them. If we wish to cultivate our
musical taste, we must hear good music ; if we wish
to understand and enjoy painting and sculpture, we
must see good painting and sculpture. And it is both
logical and natural to acquire some interest in, and
acquaintance with literature, before we enter the
history of literature. Yet it is no uncommon practice,
in the teaching of this subject, to begin with the
names, dates, and authors of books of which the student
has perhaps not read a word, and in which conse-
quently, he has no intelligent interest. He is made to
recite glibly criticisms of whose justice he can form no
possible judgment, lacking the first of all requirements,
ac(iuaintance with their object. On the other hand,
if we follow the natural method, we cannot be wrong ;
and it is a fact that men of aptitude for literature all
acquire their love and knowledge of literature in the
same way. They become interested in certain books :
then their curiosity is awakened with regard to the
. , 26
authors, and the circumstances amidst which the
hooks were produced. They are led from the study
of particuhir works to the study of writers, and periods.
i.e., to the history of Hterature. The development of
interest and understanding, however, is the earlier, the
more difficult, and by lar the more' important task.- If
a teacher is successful in making a student conscious
in some adequate measure of the excellence of a single
great work — " Hamlet," or *' Lycidas," or " Waverley,"
or " Tintern Abbej^" he has done infinitely more for
that student than if he had made him a complete ency-
clopa3dia of the facts with regard to all books in the
English language from Cfedi\}on to Tennyson. The
man who has, in any adequ;.te measure, been made
sensible of the beauty and power of any ^reat work,
has had the love of literature kindled in him, and has
learnt the secret of literary interpretation.
It is at this stage, — when we have the works before
us, — that we can first make profitable use of the ci'iti-
cisms of others. Such ci'iticisms are not dogmas to
be adopted, but helps to the directing of our own
eyes, and the awakening of deeper insight into that
which we have already read. In making use of
critical helps we should, however, be on our guard
against the common error of losing sight of the whole
in the study of the parts. Too often the main end —
the enjoyment and comprehension of a great work, is
lost sight of in the excessive explanation of phrases
and allusions. It is of course .essential to accurate
scholarship and honest thinking that the meaning of
^ 27
each word and phraseas used by the author should be
understood. It is not, however, essential that the
history and etymology of a word should be explained,
except in so far as light is thereby thrown on the use
of the word in the passage under consideration. When
the student comes to the Miltonic line :
" Who left untold
The story of Cambuscan Bold"
it is proper that he should know that it was Chaucer
who did this, and that the circumstances of the story
being untold should be explained. It is out of place
and distracting that he should have foisted upon him an
outline of Chaucer's life and works, and a discussion of
Cambuscan, mythical and real. I have heard that a
professor of English, when asked for counsel by a
student as to his reading; during the vacation, recom-
mended that he should read Macaulay's Essays, making,
himself fully acquainted, as he went along, with every
person, place, or thing mentioned. The suggestion as
to reading Macaulay may have been excellent; but
think of the proper names and allusions scattered so
thickly over his Essays, and judge, not how many
essaj^s, but how many paragraphs the student would
have mastereu. At the close of the summer, instead
of knowing anything of Macaulay, or the subject of
an essay, he would have crammed into his brain a
farrago of miscellaneous, ill-digested, superficial infor-
mation. Even this information could not, in most
cases, be lasting. The mature mind prefers that its
28
facts and ideas should be acquired in large masses
of logically connected material. The miscellaneous
knowledsre obtained in notes remains in the student's
mind till the exanunation is passed, and then for the
most part gradually evaporates.
Having warned you against this Scylla of literary
study, let me caution j'ou, on the other hand, against
the Charybdis of slovenliness and innccuracy. The
student of literature, perhaps more than others, is
tempted to dilettanteism, too apt to be satisfied with
a species of passive enjoyment, prone to overlook the
claims of accuracy and thoroughness. Experience in
my own case, and observation in that of others, has
taught me that it is a great mistake to study in a
subject just what we care for and what is pleasant to
us. Thoroughness and completeness lend interest in
time to the dryest subjects, but slovenliness and self-
pleasing are fatal to it. We owe a debt of gratitude
to examinations, much as it is the fashion to abuse
them, for the safeguards they erect against this kind
of study. Remember that we, inside the University,
are scholars, not amateurs, and thoroughness is the
first characteristic of the true scholar.
The enjoyment and understanding of literature —
the fundamental requisite of the literary student — has
accidentally originated in various men through the
perusal of very different books, as tastes and circum-
stances may have determined. In College classes, where
individual preference cannot be consulted, and where
students have attained considerable maturity, I believe
29
thtit in the dramas of Shakespeare we find the best
instruiiieuts for awakening genuine literary taste, and
for the desciplining of that wliicli lias been already
awakened. The wcrks of Shakespeare are to be pre-
ferred, not merely on account of their surpassing
greatness, but also because wo find in them a breadth
of knowledge and sympathy which gives points of con-
tact and interest for men of the most diverse capacities
and temperaments. Other writers appeal to a more or
less narrow circle, Shakespeare to all men. There are
men, not merely of intellectual ability, but of consider-
able literary aptitude, to whom Wordsworth is a sealed
book. One is blind to the excellence of Pope, another
to that of Spenser. Even a man of Matthew Arnold's
pre-eminent literary insight fails to do justice to
Shelle}'-. But if a student has any aptitude for
literature whatever, and even if he has none, he may
usually be made to perceive on some side the greatness
of Shakespeare ; so multitudinous and striking are the
excellences of that most human and universal of
writers. Having acquired some insight into Shakes-
peare, we ought in the same way to make an accurate
study of, and learn to enjoy a considerable number of
our greatest and most typical English writers. The
more diverse these are in genius, the more complete
and adequate will the student's training and culture be.
. But our University studies must not stop here. This
is merely tiie first, though the most important and
most difficult, stage. When we have read a book with
interest, when it has been a source of keen enjoyment
. 30
and stimulus, when it has widened our horizon, we
then naturally wish to know something of its author
and the circumstances of its production. This, indeed,
as 1 explained at the opening, is a necessary factor in
the complete understanding of a hook. We are thus
led from the study of single works to the study of
writers, — from books to men. But again, we find it
is not sufficient merely to master a man's collective
writings and the details of his life. To complete our
imderstanding of the work, or our conception of the
writer, we must know something of the intellectual
atmosphere which surrounded him, of the currents of
thought, and the of spirit of his time. In doing this,
we pass from the stud}' of the individual writer to
the study of the period in which he lived — to the
history of literature. Arrived at this stage, we
find that books and authors, possessing but little in
them.selves to merit our attention, have now, as links
in the chain of literary development, a new interest
and importance through their influence upon greater
wnuters, and through the insight which they afford into
the current thought of the age. Thus, starting from
single authors, with a desire of fully understanding
their works, and of forming a complete and true like-
ness of them as men, we find a new conception and a
new aim dawning upon us— the conception of the .
solidarity of literature, the aim of forming a complete
image of the thought of an age in all its manifold
relations. As a writer unconsciously reveals himself
in his work, so a nation, at each epoch of its history,
reveals itself in its coUeetive literary products. As
one's knowledge and insiglit deepen, nil books, all
writers assume theii* proper places in the picture ;
great currents of thought, obscure streams of influence,
the manifold relations ot thinkers, the action and re-
action of thought become manifest, and the whole
adjusts itself in fitting persi)ective. But this picture
is still incomplete unless we follow backward and for-
ward the lines of development, and see the passing phe-
nomena in their relation to their antecedents and their
results. We thus at ive at our final task, as students
of Enirlish literature at least — the task of tiacino- out
and imaging the development of national thought from
the time when it tiist emerges from the obscuritv of
an illiterate and pre-historic i)ast, to its culmination in
the multidinuous streams of literary activity amidst
which we ourselves live.
You see, then, in brief what practical course we
ought to take. First, we must awaken and discipline
literary taste by the study of indivielual works. !Next,
this taste should be widened by a thorough knowledge
of the best works of the greatest writers. Thirdly
we must make the literature of a period our subject,
study minutely its leading works, familiarize ourselves
with its chief writers by reading, to some extent
their less important works also, and widen our know-
ledge of the literature of the period by a course of
reading among secondary authors. It is impossible
and undesirable, however, that the ordinaiy student
should spend much time on books which have merely
82
fin historical interest. So that, at this point in hi»
course, lit' may profitably make use of abstracts and
criticisms of books which ho himself has not been able
to read. 'J'hese facts and opinions have now a frenuine
inteiest for h'un, throijoh the relations which minor
works bear to the general comse of l''erary develop-
ment. Thus, havinj"' mastered the literatiu'e of one or
two periods, iin(i knowin*,' somethiiio- of the great
literatui'e of all ])eriods, it would be well, in the fourth
place, (if time precludes such detailed examination of
the whole of English Literatui'e,) that the student
should have put before him a brief sketch (>f th(! entire
development of our Literature, so that all that he has
learned, oi' will learn, may fall into its fitting place in
the scheme of the whole.
I have thus completed a brief exposition of the
main results which may be expected to spring from
the study of literature, and a still briefer indication
of the proper method of attaining them. If in urging
its importance, I have maintained its su))eriority in
some respects to other subjects, it is in no spirit of
disparagement to these, for I well know that they in
their turn atlord a discipline which litei-ature cannot
give. The place 1 claim for literature among her sister
studies is a high one, and can be filled by none of
them ; but cultui'e is bioader than literature, and as
the curriculum of this Universitj* indicates, a truly
liberal culture must be many sided. Again, I have
33
represented the results of literary study in their
highest manifestations — have sot up an ideal towards
which we mUst strive. But the laws of the universe
are mostly realized in tendencies, and if our studies
only tend to bring about the results indicated, we must
not be discouraged but work patiently towards a more
perfect realization. Nor have I urged the cause of
literature in any narrow sense. What I have said is
applicable, not merely to English Literature but to all
literature. Especially do I acknowledge here the
claims of classical literature, which seems to me, if
pursued in a proper spirit, especially fitted to produce
that openness and flexibility of mind and soundness of
judgment of which I spoke in the earlier part of this
lecture. Valuable above all is the literature of Greece,
whether we regard its variety, its perfection of form,
its wealth of ideas, its unique development, or its
abiding force in moulding the thought of Western
Europe. On the other hand, the various modern
literatures are much more quickly and easily acces-
sible, and come nearei- to us in thought and iceling.
According to taste and temperament, one student will
feel himself attracted to that of Germany, another to
that of France, or of Italy. But, after all, the wide,
varied and splendid literature open to all of us in our
mother tongue, is a suflBcient instrument of literary
culture, and from it at any rate we must begin.
Literary taste and love of books must be developed
there. None of us will be lisposed, I think, to differ
from Professor Huxley when he gives utterance to the
remark with wliicb I will close : " If an Englishman
cannot j^et litorary cultmo out of his Bihlo, his Shake-
speare, his Milton, neither will the profoiindest study
of Homer and Sophocles, Viryil and Hornce, pfive it to
him."
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