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Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmds d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Stre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 d partir de I'angle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images n^cessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 4 5 6 f.. <-f EXTRACTS FROM THE SYLLABUS. The followrng extracts from the recent Syllabus of the University of Toronto define the scope and character of the examinations in English literature and composition : POETICAL LITERATCTRE. author txDresseahhmplf ^^^ja'^ej"! ."tudy of the from in which the ENGLISH OOMPOSITION AND PROSK LITERATDRK C f J ^aoe^-Co/eDiteniture^ ene0. rs. 18 of the er of the ! to deter- e author's which the ns, proper paragraph from this ry of the 3tion only the texts orized the THE PRISONER OF CHILLON ▲NO SELECTIONS FKOM CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE WITH LIFE OF BVJWN, CnmcAL WTRODUOTION AND NOTKS. ' 'agraphs ; passages ; of style ; study of lerits and On this the pass :ult uhar- Vt J- E. WETJKKELL, B.A., trincip^l of Strathroy ColUyiaU I.Jtuf. TORONTO : W. J. GAGE A: COMPANY 1889. Kntered according to Act of I'arlianifi.t or Ca.,acl;i, in tlio year of our r,o,d «ilfhteen hundred and eighty-nine, Ijy W. J. Oaok & Co., in the office of the Minister of Agriculture. PllKFACE. r of our r.oid Co., .avo l,ee„ prescril.cl l.v U ^ u^l,*,^^ '7 «f '^yron'H poetry that at.o„ oxa,nin«tio„. a.ul adopt T.yti,;:|/;r"/" ^"' ^''" »"-'-^ '"-tricu In th H e.!iti„n of ..elections fro.n { *, , '" ' "'^''' "«'-ti«cat..s. ant year un.ler tl.o mn,m i«o,nffT^',''''"" •^' ^"^t^"« "Lay," issue 1 t..n.i«he.l to the t.acl' e a h, . ''I'/'^-'^tio" l^-partinent/We a kls enjoy the full eff.ots of io L T Vo 7 . ■l',*'' * "•«-''''«'. «« wc cL^n Hutlior 8 message », of coursn fl, ■ "',•"'' <•'' ^^ i'V ii<-' says it Tl... we ,voul,l KHia\ fuirapn^St^in oHI '""« ^"'' ^"'-'''-ati^, |.ut f he striking feature.s Jl!{;^£Zui^:i^T''^'\^^ '""^^ '^"- ' 'to to us, and we inu.st not nc,-]oot tL aitrstic medunn that conveva it that developed or influenced the ant.,r'"rr '^"^* *'"^ i'"n.edia?" eauses the cast and coloring of his Ines'a 1' " ^'^^''^''^ e^'""«> *''"« allecUng heT^:M^ tl;;iSv;^""Lt^:^lft"^ -^'' ''^ '^'^ P"PH before chapter, wlienever an exanunlj «„ « , "\"'" °^ ^''« biographS liglit on the text. **"""ation of the poet's environment will throw ^r^lSS^S^^Z "^ '"^^"^^^ ^- t'^^ -e of the pupil i„ ,,3 te^trf^Kj3S;3tal^ >:?1;^r ^"'^ ^'^ - of the the various topics considered h, the trnT' P'*''''^^'*'^ "^ *'"« poems auction wdl need to be discussed ^'Wf '"^J-two sections of this Intro see the poet's art in the po^S ihem dve,' ^"?'^ ^'' ^'^"^ broug To introduction will serve to hV I ; V fives, a reference to tlie PrifL i the rhetorical nonTendat^.^e" When" l"'^'?"/' *" ^-"1'-*^ un wS completed, the pupil's critLal knmv In '" ''"''^, °^ *''« P°cm ha" Ki ••eadmg the IntU.ction in ciurse ^" "^"^ *''^" ^^ Bystematked by ^erT^t i:^:l:^te'X;^,;t^"''^^^^n- to Miss E. M of the Critical Introduction. '""= ^''^"^"^ ^^^^ i" the preparation Strathroy, June 22ud, 18S9, KEATS ON POESY, "A d rainless shower Of light is fioesy ; 'tis the 8Hi>reine of power : Fresher than ijerries of a inountaiiitree ; More stranjfe, more beautiful, more smooth, more reifal, Than wind's of swans, than doves, than dim-seen ca^le ; What is it? And to what shall I compare it? It has a glory and nought else can share it : The thought thereof is awful, sweet and holy, Chasi ig away all worldliness and folly : Coming sometimes like fearful claps of thunder; Or the low rumblings earth's regions under; And sometimes like a gentle whispering Of all the secrets of some wondrous thing That breathes about us in the vacant air ; So thai, we look around with prying stare. Perhaps to see shapes of light, aiirial limning ; And catch soft floatings from a faint-heard liynuiin({; No one who onco tiic glorious Sun has seen, And all the clouds, and fell his bosom clean For his great Maker's presence, but niu-t know What 'tis I mean, an;', feel hia being gluw." I LIFE OF BYROINf. :| .nrl 1 ' ''^' "''"' " »"fl»enced by his character, and no n.i.is diaracter was .ver more influenced by his crcums :nu..s. Rather fro.n things without than from things w,thm did tl.esp.nt of Byron assume color and shape." H hen, we would fully understand and appreciate the poetry of yron we must have a fair knowledge of his varie^d career and of the powerfu political and literary impulses that had sway during the earlier years of the present century. Ihe life of Byron is a story sad and dark. No work of hction can furnish us a record more melancholy and pathetic f^ethe has truly said that Byron was inspired^y th? Gen u^ ot Pain for the march of his literary triumphs was ever over the waste and rums of his personal happiness Januarf-nd^^Trlf '"r" ^'T '" ^f^'' ^'''''' ^^°'^^«"' <^^ .January _nd, 1<88. He was descended from the Byrons of Normandy, who accompanied William the Conqueror into Eng land, and of this to the last, lie continued to be prouder than of having been the author of "Childe Harold." In liis n v-ent" he was doubly unfortunate. His father, Captai« Byro wa a man of dissolute and extravagant habits, who died^whenTl son was three years old, leaving his widow only a pittance Tf £1.5.) per annum. His mother was Catherine, sole child and .eiress of George Gordon, of Gight, in Scotland, ^e was total stranger to English manners and English society Her opinions, her hab ts, her speech, all smacked of th7North Her violent and intractable temper, her lack of mentai cultivation, and her ill-balanced nature, unfitted hei for tra n ing up so precocious and so imperious a son During the greater part of his childhood Byron lived with his mother in seclusion at Aberdeen. Here the sea and A 1 mountains took a firm hold upon his imagination, Td ^o these LIFE OF BYRON. early years we must trace that love of natural scenery which is apparent in all his poetry. These years at Aberdeen were years of freedom, but of freedom tinctured with unhappiness. His mother's treatment of him was strangely capricious. She alternated betucen paroxysms of rage and paroxysms of tenderness. At one time she would smother him with her endeai-ments ; at another time she would insult him for his lameness — for he, like his great contemporary, Scott, was lame from his earliest boyhood. In 1798, at ten years of age, on the death of his grand-uncle, he became Lord Byron and the owner of Newstead Abbey, in Nottinghamshire. After receiving the rudiments of his edu- cation at the Aberdeen Grammar School he went, in 1799, to Dulwich, to attend the school of Dr. Glennie. From there he was removed to Harrow in 1801. Byron's four years ^t Harrow had much to do in determining the course that his life was to take. While here, he devoured all sorts of learning excepting only what the regimen of the school prescribed for him. As he himselt tells us, he read eating, read in bed, read when no one else read, all sorts of reading. The list of works in all departments of literature which he hastily and greedily perused, before the age of fifteen, is enough to startle crediljility. As we might expect, his favorite literature was romance and history. As he possessed a most retentive memory, he early gained complete mastery over the resources of his own language. At Harrow young Byron soon became the leader in all the sports, schemes, and mischiefs of the school. He here displayed many of those traits of character which clung to him through life. He was sensitive, passionate, sullen, and sometimes defiant of authority. He was, however, ardent in the few friendships that he formed ; and he was always singularly ti-actable under the in- Cuence of kindness and persuasion. It was in 1803, during the Harrow days, that Byron conceived an nttachment which influenced all his future life,- his love for ]\liss Chaworth, the heiress of a family near Newstead. In his youthful imagi- nation he thought this lady the ideal of feminine perfection, — "As the sweet moon on the horizon's verRe, The maid was on the eve of wonianhnod ; The boy had fewer suniniors, but his heart H.".ri far oiitvrov.'n his yrars, atvi tr-- his oyn There was but one beloved face on earth, And that was shining on him." nery which is jerdeen were unhappiness. I'icious. She aroxysms of lim with her him for his 3tt, was lame grand-uncle, ad Abbey, in 3 of his edu- ;, in 1799, to I'om there lie determining he devoured [imen of the us, he read , all sorts of of literature .ge of fifteen, expect, his he possessed lete mastery arrow young schemes, and ny of those fe. He was of authority, ips that he :inder the in- 1803, during iinient which haworth, the thful imagi- perfection, — LIFE OP BTRON. « ''^^'=ti tr'u^iixrr t^^^^ > -' ^'^ natural melancholy of lisTttn^ In/ T- '^''?'^"^ *^" -I'ich it retained through life!- ^''^" ^'' 'P'"*^ ^ ^^^« Ca^gf^Se"tr'h;?^7.T^^-'^ ^"-^^ ^«"«^^. -d rei^ied ^"t^^utwi ^^^ta ';,[;;: t'^' ''i'' of a passion ft htetshrV" ^»*° P««*^y "^ the eI>ullition who died a year or tw^afte^ iri^o;'?'' " ^"^^*'^^"' ^'^' he printed for vriv-itTcZ^T,- ^^^6, then at Can.bridge, lu 1807, still at' a ,i\h 'trp.:;,,iS r'^'T ^^ p"^"^^- "Hours of Idleness" r\^i ^ P"''^>«'»f-'d Ins first work,— •"^tung to the quick bv tli^ l,^.! -i ^ , '^ following year. year^fpreplu^„:'e?i;::S^S!ll:^PS^^ ^:^2:^'''2 1'''-' '^ p'"-^^'^ the ptts of Tht z' ludgmel "Ikr th; W of "P"^'^' °V"^"^ ^^ '"'^ ^'-^^^ "A^miserable ecoivi ofenl r ^'"'^ ^' ''^^'^ '^^ -«''k acrimony." Early n ISOrthl T^"' ^^^ indiscriminate his seatL the iJuJ^ of SrS iSVadT '' Tl ^^^^ *°°'^ parliamentary distinction W J ?"^ ^^^ ^ ^^^i^e for chill his aspiLiot D Lpp^^ «-h as to reception of his poetry, 3'weaSd bv .T ''''''f ^^ '^' pated living, he left En"LY7 ^ 1°"^' '""""'^ "^ dissi- college friend HoblousP ^f. Z % fo'-eign tour with his la.uWl at LisbJ:^1a ;\^'^Xtd ^^^ ''""*^^*^"- ^hey Portugal and Spain by 4ay o ^Sevill 'J -^'T'^'^ ^''''^^g^' Thence they went by sea tTM.U 1 Tn ^''''^' ^'^ Gibraltar, to Ali Pasha, the AJblnian dpl VT,"^ ^"'^''^'^- ^^^'' « ^i«it and Acarnan a to M sdonl}^ ^-1 ' 7 '"'''' '^'^''^^ ^pirus later). The traveller tSfisit,?riT:^'"Vi'^ ^^^^«" ^'^^^ LIFE OF BYRON. of "Childe Harold." The poem had been begun at Yanina, in Albania, on the 31st of October of the preceding year. In April, Byron and his companion went through the Troad to Constantinople. Here the friends separated, Byron returning to Athens, where he remained till the summer of the followiiig year. In July, 1811, he returned to his native land. In a letter to a friend, written during his homeward voyage he thus expresses his melancholy condition : — " Embarrassed in my private affairs, indifferent to public, solitary without a wish to be social, — with a body a I'ctle enfeebled by a succession of fevers, but a spirit I trust yet unbroken, — I am returning home, without a hope and almost without a desire." To add to his gloom numerous afflictions awaited his return. Fie was plunged into profound sorrow by learning of the loss, either before or shortly after his return, of five relatives and intimate f 1 lendf. and also of his mother, whose death affected him deeply, iiotwithstanding the little genuine affection he had for her. It is to this period that the lines in "Childe Harold," ii. 96, refer : — " All thou could'st have of 'nine, stern Death, thou hast, The parent, friend, and no . the more than friend 1 Ne'er yet for one thine arrows flew so fast. And grief with grief continuing; still to blend. Hath snatched the little joy that life had yet to lend." Byron had brought back with him to England as the fruits of his two years of wanderings two poems of a very different nature, — "Hints from Horace," and the first two cantos of "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage." Of the latter he had a poor opinion, but the former he submitted to his friend Dallas and urged him to have it published. It was some time before the poet's obstinate repugnance to the idea of publishing "Childe Harold" could be removed. Says his biographer Moore : "Among the many instances recorded in literary history of the false judgments of authors respecting their own productions the preference given by Lord Byron to a work so little worthy of his genius over a poem of so rare and original beauty as the first cantos of " Childe Harold " may be accounted one of the most extraordinary and inexplicable." In February, 1812, the first two cantos of "Childe Harold" were given to the world. The success of the poem was immediate and signal. It was receiveu everywhere vvith a burst of enthusiasm. From loneliness and neglect the poet emerged suddenly to become the idol of society. As Macaulay it Yanina, in ig year. In the Troad to on returning the followiiig land. In a i voyagp he ibarnissed in thout a wish succession of ,m returning " To add to •n. He was B loss, either and intimate I him deeply, 1 for her. It •old," II. 96, 8t, as the fruits ery dirt'erent ivo cantos of had a poor i Dallas and le before the ling "Childe )her Moore : listory of the I productions little worthy )eauty as the i one of the ilde Harold" i poem wa3 here vvith a ect the poet A.S Maoaulay 1 LIFE OF BrRON. it says: "There is scarcely an instance in history of so sudden a ..se to so dizzy an eminence." ''His fau,e had not to wait^or any of the ordmary gradations, but seemed to spring up like dtSritl.^'"''^ '''' ''\ " '''^'''- ''' '- h'i-elf Trieit dcsciibed It 1 Ins memoranda: 'I awoke one morning and found n.ysel tan.ous.' Childe Harold and Lord Byron bl-ame the then,e of every tongue. "-(Moore.) What was it in i^ ew poem that so dazzled and captivated the world? l" he poet s biographer speak : "There are those who trace t the peculiar character of Lord Byron's genius strong fe. ures of relationship to the times in which he Hved • who think tlnf the great events which marked the close of the k c itl by giving a new impulse to men's minds, by habituating them o the daring and the free, and allowing full vent to 'theflash and outbreak of fiery spirits,' had led naturally to Uieproduc Jon of such a poet as Byron; and that he was as much the clnld and representative of the Revolution in poesy s Napoleon was in statesmanship and warfare. Without /oin' the full ength of this notion, it will at least be concededTf eneigies of the human mind in the great stru-..]e of that nerin^ ogether with the constant spectacte of sucht toundtg S' udes as were passing almost daily on the theatre of thfwodd had c-eated in all muids and in c ery walk of intellect a taste tor strong exciten.ent which t. e stimulants supplied from ordinary sources were insufficient to gratify --that a tan « deference to established authorities ha^d falfen into disrepuT should'/" f-ture than in politics; and that the poe Tl should breathe into his songs the fierce and passionate so ril of the age and assert, untrammelled and unawedfthe h gh do" nion of genius, would be the most sure of an aud ence toned fuH sympathy with his strains." Other causes nf fl,o i . i peisonal history and character, hi. rankfand his handsome ad nteresting appearance, all contributed to the tide o succe U a now flowed in upon him. (2) Many of the pLes cele bratedin the poem were at that time prominently in men'.' thoughts, especially Spain, as England was IZlZZin the Jrcninsular War. " -'o^o«" m A few days before' the publication of " Childe Harold," Byron ^ LIFE OF BYRON. attracted consideral.lo attention by his 6rst speech in the House of Lords. Tliis effort was much commended by such distmguialied authorities as Sheridan an.l Grenville He appears to have liad oratorical powers of a hii,di order, even at llarrow being distinguished above his fellows for liis ability in dedaniation. At the very juncture when his liead was likely to be turned by his success in oratory came his unexpected and more gratifying success in poetry, wliich fon ver decided the course whicii Ins life's ambitions were to follow We can however, detect in many of his animated and fiosving periods a Jatent force of rhetorical energy wliich, if it had been employed m oratory, with the seductive accompanim.Mits of his pleasing presence and musical voice, would have thrilled and moved the souls of his hearers as much as his poetry has charmed his numerous readers. The next three year's were spent by fJyron in alternate seasons of dissipation and literary industry. Tn 1818, appeared "Ihe Giaour," a wild poetical fragment founded on an event that had occurred in Athens while he was there. Tn December 1818, appeared "The Bride of Abydos," written in a week' At the beginning of the next year appeared " The Corsair " written in ten days,— a poem of higher merit and greater popularity than the two preceding. "Lara," the sequel of "The Corsair." appeared in August, 1814, And now occurred an event wliicli proved the turning-point of his life. In January, 1815, he was married to Mi.ss Isabella ^hilbanke. the only daughter and heiress of Sir Ralph :\nTlbanke. This lady appears to have been attractive and accomplished, but her union with a man of such wayward notions and unrestrained passions could not help proving disastrous. After a few months of apparent happiness a cloud came over their domestic life. In Deceinl)er was born their only child, Augusta Ada, and in January Lady Byron left her husband and went home to her pai ents. A deed of separation was signed shortly afterwards, but the causes that led to the estrangement and separation have always remained a mystery There can be no doubt that Byron was much in fault, but the punishment meted out to him by his enemies and even by his former admirers and friends was out of all proportion to his deserts. "Such an outcry was now raised against him as in no case of private life perhaps was ever before witnessed ; nor ch iu the I by such illo. He r, even at ahility in ivas likely )ectod and soided the We can, periods a employed 3 pleasing id moved limed his alternate appeared an event *eceml)er, a week. Corsair," I greater- sequel of ing-point i Isabella r Ralph tive and svayward provini; 3 a cloud )rn their I left her paration d to the mystery. but the n by his n to his m as in ied ; nor UPE OF BYROK. i, ot'rse">f^;L^^LT W v'/ '^"^ t"''' ^« ^'^^ ^^^^^^-^ - *»>« obloquy that we e nowf^tL"^" '''7"^f '^' ''^''^'"^ ^^<^ upon him " '^Phe noln '^^'^?/ * ^^^ ^^^^s showered theatres siiook w h ^ ^^Ton^'H ""'' "^'1^ '^"'P^^'^ '^^^- where he had iately^rrie^::;^o1 ^ottvt^^^^^ J^hKTw;^^^;;;? zirT^^ ^^- =-'^ ^^^^ ^- I was unfit fo Eu>r f al"rF 7^'""'-"'"-^ was true. In April. 1816, ^^^njlt^^'ttZ .""^^ ^«^ ™-" »-eturn. What an i.itense feelL If , ' "^^'^« l^'^d "^ver to I'ad at this tin.e forShnd in? f 'ntterness he must have inw'vginewl.en.afteraS ltntertuf"f^^^^ "^'^''^i "^ '^"^ thus:_"I am sure my bones wo^Id ^ot^^^^^ grave, or my clay mix with the earfh ^f !il 1 English the thought would drive nT T i ^* T""*^'"^" ^ h«'»eve suppose tLt any o?m;7riendsw:uld"be7 ^'^'''-''f' ^^"^^ ^ my carcass back to your soi T 1 i^'\'^^"^^ ^'^ ^°'^^«:^ worms if I could helpT" ""^"^ "°*^ "^"" ^^^^ your as those that had preceded Them ™' '"'"^"^^^ ^3^P« tra^rVelsfw^tTBru'^ef "^' ^ V'^"^'^^^ ^^ f--> where the great bat L .S bS S ;'^lt\\'^'' ^^ ^^1*^^-' His journey down the Rhh!e m.^^ Z ^*" ^ y^*'" b^fo'-e- traced in his own m^!chle" v.? ^' ^l^J"^'^ «ays, be "best their glory on J f^^tSZJJT ^i"f^>«^^« ^ portion of clothefl wfth i.^loit ity iVn^rrnVrvVV'T^ ^^^^^^^ durable associations of undjin. son„^. r^ hjstory the no less he established liimself for fh^=?, ^" .-^^^^'^I'^S Switzerland Shelley was at tlStime 1 v „! nr'' '" ^'"^" "^^'' ^«"°^- and the two poets rrrmuor .'J'"''''!" "^^^^'^^^ho^ Shelley's idealfsm shows itTe" in all Jr* ^^ '"^"^"^« ^^ composed during this pe Tod thf fJ !, P"'*'^ *^^^ ^^''"'^ Havold," .< The Prisoner oSiv' '' Da;^:^ ?Thl ^^'"'^ and part of " M.mfred," ■L'arKness, ihe Dream," " u'il'?'!? 'fT'?-'" ™"'" "■•• Byron wrote in the y™r TS17 . ..ween n,et.;hX";t!=. X^ ,^.:"=S:^ LIPK OP BYRON. able, thoughts unutterable, and the nightmare of mv own delinquencies." From Switzerland Byron proceeded to Milan and Verona, and thence to Venice, where he lived from November, 1816 to April 1817, during this time completing " Manfred." In tlie'sprin<^ of 1817 he visited Rome and other places of fame in Italy, but soon returned to Venice, where he remained till 1819. It was at this time that he wrote the fourth canto of " Cliilde Harold." Byron continued to live in Italy until tlie middle of the year 1823, residing in succession at Venice, Ravenna, Pisa, and Genoa The most notable of the works he composed durin" this period are " Don Juan," and the tragedy of " Cain." After engagin.^ in several revolutionary intrigues among the Italians, his attention was turned to Greece by the outbreak of the Greek War of Independence. His earlier lamentations over the Greeks "Trembling beneath the ..courge of Turkish hand, From birth till death enslaved, in word, in deed, unmanned," now received a practical outlet. His earlier aspirations expressed in the fiery lines •' Oh ! who that gallant spirit shall resume. Leap from Eurotas' banks, and call thee from the tomb?" now seemed about to be realized. After the insurrection had been in progress for two years, with ^ome promise of ultimate success, he crossed to Greece in July, 1823, and at once lent the whole strength of his active and impulsive nature to the Greek cause. Joined by other adventurous spirits he went to Missolonghi in Aetolia in January, i824. A'l'ough he materially aided the cause of the revolutionists, lie was not destined to take part in throwing off the yoke of the Turks from the land he loved so well. In April, 1824, he died of a fever in Missolonghi, at the early age of 36 years. Public honors were decreed to his memory by the authorities of Greece, where his loss was keenly felt and deeply lamented by all. Thus he, whom his own country had eight years before with unbridled fury driven into dishonor- able exile, now, after a life the most troubled and cliequered in literary history, laid down in peace his honored head beneath a foreign sky. of my owu Verona, and 16, to April, he spring of n Italy, but 19. IL was de Harold." of the year and Genoa. this period engaging in is attention ek War of eoks lanned," s expressed tomb?" action had if ultimate once lent ure to the le went to materially ed to take d he loved )longhi, at eed to his i'as keenly 'n country dishonor- quered in beneath a LIPB or BYRON. BYRON'S PREFACE. The following is the author's preface to the first two cantos of "Childe Harold" as published in 1812 :— "The following poem was written, for the most part amidst th« scenes which it attempts to describe. It was begun in 111^1,^—1 the parts relative to Spain and Portugal were coniDosed from l ht „f f\ V' observations in those ^ountries. ThL I'uch T^^X ne^Zyt^Utl for the correctness of the descriptions. The scenes attemntp.l f«T A nctitious character is introducpd fm- tho „mW^ „* ■ • incur the suspicion of having intended some real nersonLo Si tT^ variations in the following composition • satisfipd tLfif f^^ * ^""''^'' cessful, their failure mustl^e inS rcutTot rather^^^^^^^ sanctioned by the practice of Ariosto. Thomson! anS Beat^fe." ^'''«"' The preceding Preface deals with two subjects that require further consideration,-the identification of Byron with Childe Harold, and the nature of the Spenserian stanza. Mr Tozer's treatment of these subjects in his excellent Introduction is here given. 10 LIFB OP BYRON. Byron and the Character of Childe Harold. mulfdeb^te'cTwhetS ByronVoTn^e^jLf" ^^^^ *he question wa. person of Chil.le Harold ffeDuhHrnnHn'" T*^'■^P';^■*'^"t«^ 'n ^^^ the case on account of the unmSi, iV^''^^^''^^'^^' *'"it this waa between them, whi"e tl e a,!f hoT 1'''''^ P?'"*« ''^ correspondence know that in throrigiil S?aft thrti'i?«':"''pV^-,'/'T' '*• ^^^« "°^ the earliest form of K poet's famifl *' ^u*"''''? ^"'■""' ^''^^ being probably keeping withi^ K boS^nf r'.i. *?"* J•°^^^' *^'^t he was Childe was Ao doubt 7ntLfir=f ° ^"**' '" '^'^ 'i'savowal. The exaggerated and darkened in its Svora Z^ ^ ^^'^Tr*™'*'"'*'- ^ut love of notoriety even in what was ivH^n *'"^;/«- P'^'-t'y ^rom Byron's at his former life. But IhTlllZ ' 1^ P'v">' ^'■""' *<'^""'»« "'i^gust diflFerent from the original or it to h«'' *^-u 'Y"'^'''^ ^^' sufficiently it. In all probabili y a the Up- -- ' '^ u^" ^"^^^ *« ^'■«<="^i'» the personality he ho rthiliE.PJf "'''"''' ^'^^ ^^'■'*«'- ^O""^! that central figure to which hs elnpr ^as serviceable to him as a attributed! and that his presencf SSteT'lhf r'""-|"" T^""' ^^ sub ect to another, and prevented th« tnn f ^^ t'ansit.on from one pure and simple. In the Ih rd P.n Jn *K ^'^q/'ent use of description are treated as distinct peol vet Ihil"^^ *'" P,"'*. f "'^ his crektion represents Harold as the oM^nflf.^ are clearly identified, for he wfiich Byron addressed t^ mT • . ?"' "'*''^ " ^""^^ and the lines (C. H. .1 5?), ar'eTut" nt t mouV^lnlhlTr T'^"" ''^'' «*° Canto IV. the author states th^t v?„ V,„ i t , dedication prefixed to 7%e Spenserian Stanza. the couplet. Though it doe. n^tS« .u ^"n*','^ P°"'*«'l brevity of the concinnity of the othi vet to^s^^^^^^^ l" '^'^"'^^ "^ ^'^^ °"« "'• avoids the disadvantages of both Vr^^ f • "*, '* "'''*"' *he merits and than the couplet it can exnrp.« «; ,•? ^'°^ longer and more complex illustrate it ^more elab^ra'tely and devefon? ? '^''l""''' '""^ ^""^ pletely; while, on the other han^f>,o ^ description more corn- definite intervals imparls a unitwn^ r"'^""«"'=.« ^^ ^ barked pause at of the poem, and Khe same t^me Zf successive step in the progress which i's un^voidabl in' cont Luous ver'e Thri*"'" "" '^' ""^"*^«" well suited for Byron's purpose in 'Ph.-M; R , J .^u^^ ^^^ especially is constantly shifting, an^d requires that th.r^ ,]? "''i^u'^"'" *^" ^"hject of the least stringent kind ^Thf=f„ ® ^''°"''^ ^° continuitv, but chain, as beads ofa string" " '*'°'*' ^'^ "°* '^ '""^h the links of a the last of which is an Alexandrine ^tZJ^-* '"""'*' "^ "'"« ""^8' Ss S.t]?''?,? = ri^- 'i^- '■ «°S^^^^^^^ ine stanza which rhyme with one another are, 1, 8; 2, 4, 5, 7; 6, 8^9?" juestion wu mted in the lat this was 'espoiidence VVe now I tliat being hat he was owal. The litiire, but oin Myron's line disgust sufficiently to fliaclaim found that > him as a might be from one lescription is creation ed, for he the lines crag,' etc. lefixed to )t to draw ontinuous Drevity of he one or lerits and i complex fully and ore com- pause at progress attention specially e subject Liity, but inks of a stanzas, ne lines, e iambio hile the 'llables ; lines of 6, 8, 9." Lira OK UVHON. J, BVRON AND THE KKVOLUTIONARY SPIRIT. was affected by the rovoluW;^;/;.'^^ '' what extent Byron the; ^:^s t:^:;: :S::t/'^s Vv^. '^-^^^^ ^-- *•>« mode,s of Hntmuanans The^novem Sin tiS J r """'"'•%■"*« ^ museum of out by two classes of great wr ors t7 ''''P"'?"'^ Burns was carried to formality , in substitutiniTfo, th„ m ^ "^'^^'^ '» 0PP0«i"g free E •egulated; their favorite ;ht"y„,,T''" ^"^^''^^ things setTled a^d ,^orm.ty toestablisbed in:tS; 'oS "sTirbr'!s"'f '""''' ^ ' ^^^ -« Ihe others were the Radicals of fl,„ " °^ * "^"' Conservatism acknowledged no law but tS own .'""V^^'^ent : they pract^alTv "Byron and the leaders nf t-u starting, common heirs of tlerevJfl-r"''"'M^'^k«' School were at their social views or persoS 7eet«rto'I f''^^ they were, eith'V ?n .nnd 'l"""'^'''' th«"gh in some resnect« fl. ^^'^f**'^"* influenced bj "^";^^::!:}!e.:^^ ^?« rKr^^r^-??^^ genius ^ ', the ./ ^cott, contributed so much t unwillingly, and with constant llf '* ^'"''^ ^^'■"^ ^ontributS to tastes and inclinations ledTm to tS« 7?'"'^*"'' '^^'^^- AH his ut'^^T ^°'"S out against the school .vh*^' '"*'' *'''^ ^'^^^^^ of poetry himself he spoke with ZVl scnool which was comin? in nf p ^ praised Wor^wort^ a„d Co3"* T'""''''*'""- He fow and Sn cordiality wu " . *"° toleridge, but xm"y^ci^,,.h Z^^- *"®° poet.,. B« po„o^ ^,.. , , „^ .„'l«tS;l?S S^p'Si.".' If trr*! OP BYRON. 4tB the latter ; his talents were equally suited to both. He was the representative, not of either literary party, hut of both at once, and of their conflict, and of tlie victory by which that conflict was tunninated. His poetry HUb and meaHures the whole of the vast interval through which our literature has moved since the time of Johnson. It touches the Essay on Man at the OLa extremity, and the Excursion at the other. "—Macaulay. BYRON'S INFLUENCE ON LITKRATURE. "It is remarkable that the influence of Byron's poetry has been far greater on the (Jontin( iit than it lias been ia England. No En' lish poet except Shakespeare liaa been so much read or so much admired by foreigners. His works, or part of them, have been translated into many European languages, an''«" ''"-'"'"''y or ;;omn.enoed. it is not to" b wo vle.e at T'dT;, ''"^'"'" "'" *'''^'' ^^•«" between them. Dnrii.L' th.- i, to va in ' •'!"^"'f"^,^Va'« tmccabb, matured, and the circ m.' n, s wl?i I **''"■'"? '?'' ''-^velope.! and K-.ghu.d hud in.Iuce a .'u .mis^^t ' ^ Iuh jlepartuV. ^ron, I'is verses, while at the mn in^^ 1 .. .'T 'l'^ ' "s ,s reflected in struggle for expression, and to rebe a.. Lt •'*-'■. •''^'''''' ''"'"" *" Htrict rules of art. The result olhT 1. •'".'."' .'"'P"«'''' ''y ^^e Htylo is n,ore vigorous, more ,na8s5ol'„ 1 '" *''f '^t*"- ^'^"t"'^ ^'e versification is laoro v^r^Un imn^.^rr .'.fl '"T ••'''-'*°'''-''^l. a.ul th. the change was progre.s c o i is . m 1 "° ^o say careles. ; a„ i o. tMmiles are verv rarp ill tiio «...>* i f"<="i lUNances. CRITICAL INTRODUCTIOISr. The purpose of this Critical Introduction and the mode in which it is recommended tliat it should be employed in tuition have been indicated in the Preface. The principle that has dictated the order in which the topics have been introduced may be easily seen. The Vocabulary of the poet is the subject of Section I. ; Poetic Grammar, of section II. ; the Sentence in its various aspects, of sections III. -VII.; the Paragraph, of VIII. The commonest of the Figures are explained and exemplified in IX.-XIII. Some of the Qualities of Style receive attention in XIV. -XVII T. Sections XIX.- XXX. deal with the princii):il devices, characteristics, and themes of poetry. Sections XXXI. and XXXII. give a brief treatment of Taste and Beauty. It will be noticed that the sections are not mutually exclusive. There is necessarily much overlapping, especially in the later portions, the same things being tonclied upon in more than one place, but from different points of view. Vocabulary. At the outset of studies in style it is well to consider the nature of the poet's vocabulary, — (1) As regards origin, (2) As regards the employment of archaisms and of words having a distinctively poetical cast. (1) Our best writers use about eight words of classical origin in every forty. Wherever there is any marked variation from the normal usage in respect to the proportion of classical words, the cause of the variation should be ascertained. Compare in Canto III. of C. II. the iiiat loiu' lines of the let stanza with the first four lines of the 17th stanza. r. ! mode in in tiiitioji the topics ibulary of of section [TI.-VII.; igures are i Qualities lis XIX.- stics, and ve a brief exclusive. the later I than one isider the as and of St. ical origin tion from cal words, ampare in i with the I OBITIOAL INTRODUOTION. m^^':^i^ l^tr'^V" '^^ -. "The. i3 ! prose." Colloquial terLs and LcTneved""''^^^ ''' ^^^^^^^ place in poetry ; but words tlnf ^^''^''^y^'^^ expressions find no of the vulgar ^.4 ulx,ra\'ti;' npH^^' "i^' 'V""' ^^"^^^^ 'Kllesso '-for ''idleness,-' or "27' Lu^'^ the poet uses for "never," he enhances our plS ure hi 11"""!^''' "^' "''''''" ion that such archaic or unusuaT wnH ^ ?'^"'^^ "' «^<^^^^- ^y the glamour of associat^n wh clTsuo . ''''' " "'' ''^^•'' ^"'^ yom having been habitually uredbv' ' ''^""'^'^ f^'irther, many of these iZtio a^ """^ generations of poets effective than'the ^::s^:^^^:^:^'^^ ^^ '^"^ '^- An examination of fhi , every-day utterance. «"bse,uont seSrJ wi iXw^thalhT^^T^' '' ^^'^^ ^ ^^e poetic diction. ^''''* ^« ^^^kes a copious use of annce," "pleasaunce " ""^'"ome, "withal," "albeit," "joy. ^'^J'^i^£^^'^^^,r''^ -int,-"3ooth," "twain " twixt." "weiV' "yt; " "woTt " '^'\ "^''^^''" "phantasy,'' "S;. " fan," " recked." ''uncrrate'' " f'' '7'"'" "^'"^«^'" "athwart," ;;;ll"(evil). ''dale." '!g:f.^<^,7;?;.(^^^^^^^^ "rife." "lave/' «re." "aught." ''maCrs." <'ette '' "'V r^ff^^'" "'^''^^•*^^V' "thereon," "therefrom," "vvherpon"./ u ""^K '''" "^ire," (0) Words altered for a nw? ' i ''^'''''°' ^'^^''ithor." '-gainst," "'twas." '/ol," Cr" .rTA-''^--^' "eve," 'n„xt.""fixt,»"'s,voln." ' ^'''^' "«taid," "dipt," (^) In the case of proner jianio« fi, ^".^ical are selected' by tl pot'^' more unusual or the more 'Saxon" ''Albyn,"'' "^he while" (P c 285^ ^ ^^ "' "^' hi/wLA^« tr^trH^t^y;^^-^ '^h the accent of ^^^^'^^ Two other questions m-n. he" ]J'u -.u , poets vocabulary pure? (b) Ui\ , *^ ^ere : («) ig the what themes does he dsplav th. ?''^ '"^ '" ^^«^l'"g with ne aispiay the greatest verbal wealth t 16 ORITIOAL INTRODUCTION. II. Poetic Grammar. The same causes tliat lead the poets to differentiate their vocabulary from that of prose frcMpieutly lead them also to deviate from the grammar of prose. All the ileviatious noted heloAv may l)e referred (1) to a desire for agreeable variation from prose structure, or (2) to a desire for brevity, or (3) to metrical convenience, or (4) to melodious collocation. In the earlier examples of poetic structure cited below the grammar is quite irregular ; in the later examples it is simply unusual and so poetic. (1) The adjective used for the adverb : — " My own \\&»full as chill."— (1'. C. 222.) "If it late were free."— (P. C. 27:> ) (2) One part of the verb used for another :— "As gently sw«tawa.v."-(P, C. lOi.) "Where my walk heijun."—{y. C. 311.) (3) Pendent participial clauses : — "Awakinij ivitlt a atart. The waters heave around Mie."--(C. H. in. 1.) " Unlauffht in i/uulh mi/ luar/ in tame. My springs of life were poison'd."— (C. 11. in. 7.) (4) The anacoluthic subject : — "He that is lonely hither let him roam."— (C. II. ii. 02.) (5) Omission of the relative : — " V. l,.it want these outlaws conquerors should havo?" - (C. H. iii. 48.) (6) Attraction in the concord of the verb : — ".^h ! then and there was hurrying to aiid fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress."- (C. H. iii. 24.) (7) Condensed expressions: — "For daring made thy rise as fall."— (C. H. in. 36.) A special form of condensation is zciu/iiia : — "Banners on high, and battles ^)a«sc(i below."— (C. H. in, 47.) (8) The anticipatory pronoun : — "This must he feel, the true-born son of Greece."— (C. H. 11. 83.) (9) Poetic uses of 7ior : — " Which heeds nor keen reproar.h nnr p.%rt!a! praise."- (C. H. n. 04.) "There sunk the njreatest nor the worst of "-(C. i-) itiate their Mil also to ions noted iation from io metrical below the t is simply 48.) ORITIOAL INTRODUCTION. 1* Biigl;^'^ "" «^ ^"«-'^-n« of the 2nd and 3rd persons ,,,''"'*''''''''''''••• ^''t^st/'.< n.,.ain,.f ],,'-<< Hoothoth." (11) Poetic use of suhjunctives :— " '■""' *"""«''^' °' "'t'"' /"') ''Km.w ye not ?''=='< J>,,,„,t know? ''--(C H i, 7fn ';>"lv there no hearts?"— (C ]I t, «'>) <' n u '^ lurk?" ^ ^^' "• »-)="J)o no hearts ^^ W ^"Nor rise thy .sons » = "And thy sons do not rise. "-(C II. (13) Unusual use of nominative absolute :— "Which uttur'cl."_(c. H. ii. gy.) (U) Poetic inversion : Th. .ea.h.h.t. ..e.,„est .He thillitl^r.U^::;;::^,.^, ,, ... .« , (J 5) Old u.se of .y.' as object :~ "WllOaulorMMsoov,h.r.,.,iress,/.V"_(u. H. „. 7(> ) (16) An interchange of eon.structions {h,„ntncu,e):- "To Hhrive from n,an hi. weight of n.orta! sin."-(c. H „ 7s ) „ " To shrive man from," etc. III. 24.) i.i III. O/r/ero/ WoT,h : Met H ml Emphasis. Order plays an important part in poetic diction lowing passages will nerve as studies in or.ler : i ''LmHl was the lightsome tumult of the shore Flung from the rock, o.'o'^eau "jir^r/ali.- " * *">"'«> Msay a» / Aa le sung to ting. " The fol- 18 CRITICAL INTRODUCTION. In prose the positions of emphasis are the beginning and the cna 01 tlie clause or soiifptifo in ..i>, ■ o "'""o anu me "alureotd miniv ,r a dii=".t, or '•^•' '^ 'P^^"doi' ^vhen it is once shattered. ^^^ Hfs'bSLn t*r'"''"P »'''•'' ^"1 beat U, the bird wi,eu itLw7,,r"'"'' ""■ """•" Ti.is is i;:iv:i:rr"ov:':r*"*"''-''."-'"- »■ ■■■»■' f • -r. V stiiring effects, there arf very f e^ ^iSs t'tllf £f "^^^ ^ ^^^^ that Harold": in the later cantos there .i el T'' '^ "^^^^^^ source from M-hich hynm draw it's ' Wf !i ^" ''^"^'^ *« ^he ^^ we find, that nature is h s un aHii " "l"'' ''' '"'g'^te-^Peet, •'U'e usually short and forcibl bu we fi'f '"?; ^^'' «'^"^^^ ^^•veral fuUy elaborated, notabW n C IT %^i'' ^'^'^' *^^'^^«« broken mirror;" and in C. H if u-.S' '"■,,^^- "^venas a falcon." Sometimes the poe c imukt^f '^'^ '' " ^"'^-'^"rn pleasing effect, using two or more tn i I '''. ««"M^arisons with as m C. a III. 44 .-L *° ^""^trate the same thing, No less tl ""^'^^^'""-^^^ffl^^." No less than six similes are crowded together in C. H. x„. 32. M CRITICAL INTRODDOTIOW. Contrasts. As another great function of the intellect is discrimination, or the appreciation of difference, we are prepared to find contrasts everywhere in speech. In contrasts, as m similitudes, the emotional element may be present in a greater or in a less degree. The effect of contrast when employed as a rhetorical device arises from the well-known fact that anything is more clearly seen and its characteristics more keenly felt when it stands side by side with its opposite. Contrast is a feature peculiarly Byronic. It is a device that Byron was very fond of using, it being in fact the natural pro- duct of his si^irit " antithetically raixt." The following varieties of antithesis should be noticed :— (1) In the arrangement of the subject; e.g., the transition from the joyous revelry of the ball at Brussels to the trembliny terror aroused by "the cannon's opening roar." (2) In the description of changes of fortune, as ii- the fine stanzas on Greece in "Childe Harold," ii. 73-90 Tie poet's pessimism revels in descriptions of this kind. These famous stanzas contain an additional contrast— between the outward aspect of Greece and her political condition_a contrast that makes the original one more impressive. (3) In the heightening of pathos, as in in. 27, " Ere evenincr " See "'etc"" ^^' " ^^^ ^^^^^'" ^^^^ i" "^^ 30, "The fresh gre°eu (4) In pictorial opposites, as : — "Thy vales of evergreen, thy hilU of snow."— 4 , •• And burning with hi.jh hope, shall moulder cold and low. "-(C. H. in' ar. ) Here may be noticed the frequent use of oxtimoron and "other epigrammatic structures, as :— "Immortal, though no more ; though fallen, great I"— (0. H. ii. 78.) " PixeJnesa witlioufc a place."— ( P. C. 244.) "Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou !"— (0. H. iii. 37X 'nation, or contrasts udes, the in a less rhetorical ; is more when it vice that Ural pro- d:— ransitioii rembling ! the fine :e poet's ! famous outward ast that vening," h green I. n. 76). •-'4.) I. 27.) d other 1.^ \ ORITIOAL INTROD0OTION. Ag ;;Vltalityofpoi«on.--(c.H.m.S4.) by '•.r"dtor':/s:'„:jt:' '' °"™ "?<"" ■"- p--»t»d xr. Contiguities. -d^as. The devices of ir'lLZ I,, °' "'" "^^-'iotion of C"imrity of „,e,„„rj, are tlV' Set " f ''i'l^f'?"'! '» this pe. of fce^gures are numerous, as !! ~°''e''"J'- Examples (synecdoche). ° "'^'"^^ ^y an important part n^ijip tc'is^ d^sr r ' v^- ^- -• ^ ^) his^body is composed r^^WoX; ^ "^'"'''■'^' «^ ^'"«'» insteTdlalVsr^rtrdlg^^^^^^^^^^ -« employed a vivid way of desTriC 7'"^ '''■"•"~^'- "• "'• ^^•> striking attendant eScuti^^^^^^^^ ^""'^''^ '^^ — of a (6) "^'i''*«'-'«"'• interest in humanity s ^^^t, Z'"'"'^''^'" "^°^««' synpathies tJie poet att^.ila.t^^ ll ,'!^*^'■■^*^'■ ^« «"'■ ''".nan creations. This process in ,«/ .*''''^"^' *° *^''« lower '•"^'"''- More freuuontlvi,; "•'•'' *"!','" '^ «*>''^^' ^-'•--■/'•- witl, personality. ^Vln m • ' "'" 'l"f ^''■' P^^^''^ teen,.s apposite exa.npL '' P'^-^''^'^'^" -^ %''on will furnish ^^:AZ^:i:j::::;:^ -tr'r' ^^ --^^ ^^ -^-«^ value of the poetic device " II ''•'., • ^^'^T '^ "°^ ^^e whole 1 26 CRITICAL INTRODUCTION. is to furnish an aid to the mind as well as a stimulus to th* emotions. When the poet says : — • " And then there wtis a little iiile, Which In my very face did »mi7*,"-(P. 0. 341.) both the feelings and the understanding are affected. XIV. The Suftjecfive Qiialitieff, The Subjective Qualities of style are (a) Significance, (h) Gontinnnnsness, (c) Naturalness. (a) By sujuifvance is implied that the words which an author employs are actually the vehicle of some thought which he has to communicate. As I'he Nonsnmcal has no place in serious poetry, this quality need not be illustrated here, (/>) '^Continuonsness of style is its quality of being con- nected." This quality requires that the thoughts expressed should be in their proper relations, and that there should be a regular sequence from the beginning of the composition to the end. The requirements of style in this regard are well observed in "The Prisoner of Chillon." "Childe Harold," however, makes no pretence to unity, the personality of the poet being almost the only bond that holds the pai ts together. Whatever continuity the poem has, resembles that of the old epic poems, in which the sequence is frequently broken by the introduction of episodes. The poet displays considerable art in the various methods that he uses in marking his transitions when passing from one part of his sul)ject to another. The apparent abruptness with which C. H. in. 17 begins serves a rhetorical purpose. (c) ^^Naturalness of style is its representing *he peculiar mode of thought and manner of expression of the particular writer." It need scarcely be said that very few writers exhibit this (juality in a more mai'ked degree than Byron. " The style is the man," is applicable to Byron if to any English poet. XV. Simplicity and Clearness. A consideration of the Objective Qualities of style must begin with those that relate to the understanding. The mnst essential of the intellectual qualities are simplicity and clea,r' § bimulus to thr ted. 'jjiiificancp, (/>) ds which an hought which 3 no phice in \ here. if being con- lits expressed •e should be a osition to the ^rd are well Ide Harold," nality of the fir ts together, at of the old )roken by the isiderable art is transitions nother. The jgins serves a jeculiar mode ;ular writer." exhibit this " The style is 1 poet. if style must y. The most ity and clea,r' CIUTICAL INTHODUOTION. 27 II. Si-nplicitv rLn-,^! t ■; '''r '^"'';'«"'^y "'• -'fusion, however, sl,nu|,| |,h noticed ,__ ^^- -^^'^ tollowing passages, I- («) "Till ( have ,lont. with thin „ow da.v."-,!.. C. 41.) {(>) "Thu ,Mir,)el,.,n<3ntgoffarth."-rP C R7 ^ («) C. II. n. 77. ^ ^^ (rt) " And HO perchance in sooth .lid .MiMo.-'-(P. c loo ) l>) "And that forhade a selfish death. "-(,.. c. 230 ) " {'') C. H. ir. 97. ('/) •' Why t.,o„Kht «eeII a .^. till ''""^'«»'^' -rt'^^'t as well, intense imp,e.s.siv,.Mess of theVe' Tt n^^rf V""f^'''^'''^"- The the treasure.s of our Ian. a'e o ' ^"' ^^'"'" '-^'"O"^' that produce the al.idi,';/ Jkir.-,.^^'^''"^^ ^he various means th-:.:S'^e^-iiS;f!:?r^-t '-'--^- ^^ 'nerrimentofthe''fairwoM°en''anrM<. '"*'''^'^ ''^"'"' th« I'vrgely to the effect produced AT'""" '"'" '^^"tril.uting style at the poet's call are su Lmit W \'"P'-««sive devices of abundant usLf interro^atira |'^^^, ,^, '"' ^'^- ,^<>t-« the between the .sounds of joy and thp J'^^T^^^'^ "^"trast 28 CRITICAL INTUODUCTION. the periphrasis, "Belgium's capital," for Brussels,— the appeal to our sensuous emotions in the many words describing colors as a marriage-bell," and sounds, — the striking similitudes, "like a rising knell," "to chase... with iiying feet,"— the cumulative energy of the three comparatives, "nearer, clearer, deadlier," — the nervous force of the double epizeuxis, "Arm! arm ! it is— it is .'"—the use of the personified abstracts, Beauty, Chivalry, Youth, Pleasure, for emotional elFect,— the touches of fancy and imagination in the expressions, "To chase the glowing hours," and, "As if the clouds its echo would repeat."— The two stanzas receive a kind of impressive unity by gradually proceeding from the merry "sound of revelry" to the terrifying "cannon's opening roar." Furtlici, there is a pleasing melody in all the lines descriptive of joy! and a terrific harmony in all the lines descriptive of tli< thunder-peals of battle. XVII. Strength. An examination of the qualities of style that relate to feeling will begin with strength. Under the general name of strength many variations find a place: -animation, vivacity, liveliness, rapidity, brilliancy; nerve, vigor, force, energy,' fervor; dignity, stateliness, splendor, grandeur, magnificence' loftiness, sublimity. Between animation and sublimity there is a vast difference, but they all agree in describing a quality of style that produces active pleasurable emotions. The voca- bulary of strength is made up of words that name powerful, vast, and exciting objects, effects, and qualities. Certain conditions are necessary for genuine strength ; (1) There must be originality; the thoughts should not be commonplace, nor the figures trite. (2) The language and the subject should be in i»eeping, one not being above the other. When this condition is not ol)- served,— when the 'anguage is more elevt. ed than the thought, — the result is bombast. (3) There should be no idle redundancies. Superfluous language always enfeebles. (4) There should be variety, as — in the use of terms; in the nature, structure, and length nf sentences; in the alternation of bold figures with those of a milder kind. 3els, — the appeal describing colors I. marriage-bell," ^ing feet,"— the ■'nearer, clearer, aizeuxis, " Arm ! iiified abstracts, )nal effect, — the xpressions, " To clouds its echo id of impressive erry "sound of ;-oar." Furtlu i , scriptive of joy, scriptive of tli( CRITICAL INTRODUCTION. 29 that relate to general name of lation, vivacity, force, energy, r, magnificence, sublimity there ribing a quality ons. The voca- name powerful, strength : — 3 should not be in keeping, one ition is not ob- lan the thought, I. Superfluous )f terras; in the the alternation p,l™;:!^* '' ""'" 8"^">' ™'--y brevity and condensation XVIII. Pat/ios. style that produces tZinl.' ^''^,""' '"""» "«> l^^litv of that »„,p„sPe rather tC::eit,:r;:rd »7'r^'-rr''°"^ pathos includes all words tb.f !. .t! ^^ vocabulary of love pity, benevolencerititityTeT ^'^ *^"'" ^^^""^'^ «^ ^if l^Si^tZ:^ — :::^J- P^s as for strength, of harn.ony is not obse ved -w e,/'thp "" ''' '°"^^*^'«" elevated than the situation ' del red%ir^'"'»T •' '"^''^ senhmentaliti/. uescrioed,— the result is mere thi^^v^ W?;S;;if i:;::^!!?' P^^-.^^ --t be observed to help or reliefof a\Td's icr^f T'^"'''^"^''«f--«« assuaging influences co.l/^'i L'to^' 1.'' *^^ ^^^«' *^« tender feelin<^ * "'^ ^'^^'^ ^^^^^ expression of cie^^iL^of ^hfi;;i:5.^?'^ ^" ^- ^^ 1^^-230,-the '■» C.H. Ill 24---''«"ngPsfc brother; and fro," etc. "^^^ • ^'^'^ ^'^^ *^''«r« was hurrying to and XIX. The Redemption of Pain The%ai„f„i sirof ,; ,r' ,:r, ," '°""' ""^''- ■■'"''«■"-'■ poetry, else our feelings ,™,;i'',°'> ">iP"rt8 a tills should be felt rathertlZ' °'."'° '<"" '»■'" demands that likely that the poet use Ms '^ reeogni^ed. Nor is it oolloition that*^ h pie" ZlTl " "■''"' f '""'■'"'' allowed, a nnisical ear or aswiJiorwillT "l '™* '' -iousiy to employ the ^nS::tzj:^s:^""' "'■" — Some of tlir :';::!''"'' """='-^"°" -™u.esara numerou,. (a) Alternatiiiij Alliferatinn— " But Mo'er will /reeclom .eek this/ated ..oil," ^^;^ /^.»/ / °;;.f ^''^ '"^"'^■'' '"'" °'-' "opes dostrovod." ^.A 'A. ■ 7 1' ,^''!"^' ''°""^"'-'''^' '"»''' -^nd motionless." (^-•} /'rj^j/e All it, 'ration— " How do they loathe the daughter idly loud " lrf\ n 1 ^':^,r ''''■""''^"*'<='^'«'"°' the, word - {(l) Complex Allitevatinn— (P\ nun J "T'lu. '""^" *'' "is/ragr«nt/ortreM 6„lldg » (e) Quadruple Alliteration-- Alliteration ' ha^'ofir ''^'1'' T' ■'^-"-* ^'«''''"^. ./^".•' accentuates a balance, or n' om^o.i P"'"*'- " '^''^'^''^' meaning:— ' "'''"^ ^^h^'' ^^7 impresses the (a) Contrast marked b>/ Allit>'rafio,i- ;;^eath in the front, /,e.trnotio„i„ the rear." To fc„„ the ,;leas»re or concoal the ;,ique.» \- ; ifnpre8siveiieH-< QMut^A Uv <-i,,^ n-^ ding with the lieatstf the veie-!! ^'^'^^^'^'■'^^'^'^ ^^''-f^les coin- ciding with the heats of the veU- " U ever w.ore should ,«eet those ,»„tual eyes." 32 CRITICAL INTRODUCTION. Alliteration elaborately pursued will be found in the follow- ing passages : — //j\ •' Preserves alike its ftounds and ftoundless fame, ^ ' The Battle-field, where Persia's victim horde First bowed beneath the brunt of Hellas' sword." /;,\ " As eagerly the 6arred-up bird will beat ^ / His breast and beak against his wiry dome Till the blood tinge his plumage, so the licat Of his impeded soul would through his bosom eat. (c) C. H. II. 92. In some of these passages we have covroahd allitn'at!()% «'.«., the recurrence of the same letter not in the initial place, or the crowding together of letters of the same order. Example {b) above will show that alliteration is often a powerful aid to impressiveness. Harmony is of various kinds : — (1) The sounds of words niny echo natural sounds, aa : — ln\ " ^^® heard it ripple night and day ; \ ' Sounding o'er our heads it knocU'd." /A'\ "And then the very rock hath rock'd, \ ' And I have felt it shake, unshock'd." lf,\' " And then the sighs he would suppress V ' Of fainting nature's feebleness, More slowly drawn, grew less and loss." (fj\ " I heard the torrents leap and gush \ / O'er channell'd rock and broken bush." (e) " The gentle murmurs of the main."— (C. H. ii. 82.) (/) C. H. III. 26. (2) The movement and the metre may imitate slow or rapid motion, easy or difficult labor, variations of mood, etc., aa : — /^\ " A thousand feet in depth below V ' Its massy waters meet and How." /;,\ " I've seen it on the breaking ocean V / Strive with a swoln convulsive motion." (f,\ "I know not why V / I could not die." (What do the short lines express V) (d) («) (/) i9) {h) And up and down, and then athwart, And tread it over every part ; And round the pillars one by one, Returning where my walk begun." " My breath came gaspingly and thick. And my crush'd heart fell blind and sick. "The darkness of my dim abode Fell on me as a heavy load." " Awaking with a start, The waters heave around, and on high The winds lift up their voices." " Once more upon the waters, yet once morel And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider." F i] r P \ d n the foUow- if prat Ion, i.p., tial place, or )n is often a is, as: — [. II. 82.) I slow 01' rapid etc., as : — CRITICAL INTRODUCTION. 03 (0 In the first four lines of C. H. iii. 25. (,/)•• The Jay .Irajjs throuKh, though storms keep out the sun " (The ponderous monosyllables expre.^s tedious delay.) (''■) A '^J?''""^"'^>"ar8 scarce serve to form a statP- ^ / A., hour may lay it in the dust." ' ' (The long monosyllables of the first line correspond to slow ness, the short ones of the second to rapidity.) ^ ( /) " He rushed into the field, and, foremost fightin,,', fell '• motion followed by a .ujden sLT) ' '^ adlpLJ';: re':;!,!tr:,:„t'ar. *= "■^"™ ■» °"" "-—--'^ "^ ^'o? s-H. v,"'85/rd™;:7 '1/°""" '" '"^ «'^' ^°" »- (e) The »|".".lar.t .« of tl,e li,,„id letter., especially ,„ and n, hl'indet";";;;:;'; ;;!:'sr™'"'""^ """ ""' «'-■ fri£ tn,e1;14Li'™r °' '"'^^ ^""'-^ -■'• (/) In C. H II,. 27, the employment of the liquid letter, especially ,„ a„d „, l,arra„„i„« ,,,„y ^™ '«'"=-^ thetic beauty of the stanza. -"^ P"' m poetry in many different 'pTroL ^^1:1^%'''^?^ rival a painted picture by " vVordM^untim. " fn . ''"''\*" picturesque. a.<, in the vkhu-r^Z ^ "", '" *°. ^^'^ single-stroke We hav^ in the "P^S^Sii, l^^^^^sSo^S^rr ^^"'^• description methodicallv nnrc,,,.. ('^<^--3o5) a fine scenic description methodically pursued :— 34 CRITICAL INTRODUCTION. "I saw them— ciiid they were the same, They were not chanjfed like me in frame ; Methought he never flew so fast As then to me he seemed to I'ly." Picturesqueness may be studied bust under the heads of still- life and action. Studies in still-life will include: (1) nature, including all living creatures below man ; (2) man, his por- traiture and ai)pearanco ; (3) the products of man's hand. Studies in action will include : (1) nature, as in the raging of the elements; (2) man in activity. The vocabulary of the pictures(pie makes up a very large part of language. It includes the luimes of concrete objects and all words indicating form, size, position, light, and color. The words indicating motion, resistance, sound, and odor, may also be said to belong to the vocabulary of the j)icturesque. Sound and odor, however, are only suggestive of the picturesque. To the vocabulary of the picturesque, it has been said, belong words indicating light, color, and sound. This class of words merits separate consideration, as they make up a very large part of the interest of description. Whether the higher senses, sitrht and hearing, furnish intrinsic sources of pleasure apart from their emotional associations, or the < harms which these senses impart are entirely due to the association of ideas, is a question that cannot be determined here. The two higher senses are, in whichever way, copious sources of pleasure, principally in nature, and secondarily in the arts of painting and music respec- tively. Even the imperfect medium of language is capable of conveying to us the effects that these senses arouse. Byron makes abundant use of the vocabulary of color and of sound. For studies in sound see C. H. in. 25, 26 : in light and color, II. 87 ; III. 13 : in light and sound, ii. 80 ; iii. 21, 22 : in color and sound, P. C. 332-355, — ^^the passage quoted in Section xxi. above, to illustrate the Picturesque. The word-picture in the "Prisoner of Chillon" referred to above may be used to illustrate the advantages and disadvantages of verbal description as compared with painting. As the pic- torial art is the art of space-continuity, and as the literary art deals with time-succession, the former gives us the harmony of things as they actually exist at a given moment, while the latter can give us things only in succession, thus failing to give a complete impression of actual co-existence. A progressive ac- cpunt, however, may be linked into an impressive unity by OniTICAL INTUODUCTION, 35 lie heads of still- lule : (1) nature, ) nuui, his por- of man's liaiid. tlie raging of the a very large part 3 objects and all md color. The I odor, may also iresque. Sound icturesque. teen said, belong class of words i very large part her senses, sight Hire apart from ich these senses las, is a question ler senses are, in principally in ad music respec- ige is capable of arouse. Byron r and of sound. light and color, 21, 22 : in color in Section xxi, on" referred to d disadvantages ig. As the pic- the literary art the harmony of while the latter liliiig to give a L progressive ac- 3ssive unity by various devices nf «trii,.f I,, i i> n>-k..da.iv:n;:^^'r;;;i;:"^ .so,it n.or.. vividiv th. f, '. ",^ '''!'^ "' '^ ^''''''^.V *« repre- '>" the. other hand tlu-Z^il Ss T ' '""^ "^'•"' "^ ^^jects. "- P-nter. H. can a,: t^JZ^i^I'T '"^^-^J'^^- over t" -P'--t adequately' /notion a„o "'h"""' '"""/^'" impress by the voca nihirv of H T , '^'''^ powerfully abundantly in his desen l^o^ . ^'h 'h';:^ JI ^^'^ ^e emplo^ ■'" the charms of p,„.ti ' stvle ..m II f. '^«"i'"a"d, too, further, what the p.et ,■] s , f/'"' r''^'™'^ ^^ "'^tre. h^ HlnH,st makes up^in th ' r tiv ?" . ' """■^' "^ ""Pression alwa^'s possesses. AndU^i^li^'TT" "'f ' 'T''''''^ ''^'^'^''^^^ the expositor of his ov. i ( ' '^' "'^''^"' '''''^ ^he poet is whereas the painter ha t i ' '^"'"V''° """"".'^' to escape us nation of the^sp'lto;; '^ '""'^ '""^^^ '' ^'-' '^^'^ and iniagi: XXII. Nature Studies. (1) The descriptive method, as i„ P. c 33-. 355 ._ ^-.;.. .. a„d i,; ^^.zc:^i^::::^^^j^^^ (-) llie expression of the «inml. that IS produced in everyone bv ou lot L^'IT "f"" P'""™'" A fe. st'i "i™ r:;rs-.srH -r- •■ quoted:— ^ "'" ^^hilde Harold" may be <^) ThtSw;vVch.t'[''''?^V»°'her still. From"h«r ba,^ bosom J ,'" \". '^'f ^<=' '"'W ! 36 ORITIOAL INTRODUCTION. (^) w^*'®'® yP'® ^^^ mountains, there to him were friends • Where rolled the ocean, thereon was his home • Where a blue sky, and kIoh in^ clime, extends, Me hail the passion and the power to roam."— (iii 13 ) ,,,.... " True wisdoms world will be Vyithm Its own creation, or in thine, Maternal Nature ! for who teems like thee, Ihus on the banks of thy majestic Khiiie''"- -{III. 46.) (d) ''^"^ "°' t^"-' mountains, waves, and skies a uart ' Of me and of my soul, as I of them ? Is not the love of these deep in my heart With a pure passion','"— (m. 75.) (4) Nature is frequently employed as a background or setting tor human action or emotion. Jii this connection may be viewed the illustration of actions and emotio).s l.y strikiug similes from nature. C. H. ii. 80, and in. 30, will serve to Illustrate the former. A few similes from nature are :— (a) " ^^ lio«'' tints as fjently sunk away ^ ' As a ilepartini,' rainl)0w's ray." (h) "And was scarce conscious what I wist, ^ ' As shrubless crags within the mist." (c) "Life will suit ^ ' Itself to sorrow's most detestey .striking will serve to e are : — ;h the light of have become stanzas 85 to le hues of his arinouy with moods, as in id movements nd interprets (d) 87.) <"> Fro.,, peak to peak, tho r'luri^,^.'";'^'^^ „„o„„ .uaps the l.ve thunder I not f.o.n one Tone Houd li t evfiy mo..„tai„ ,.ow hath found a toL?e ' ac k to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud !'-(„, 90 1 And this is in the ni^ht : -Most yloiious niirht , ' Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let . e b« ' A sharer in thy fierce and far .leli^.t - A p(,i-Hon of the tempest and of thee ' A I'.u"'.'!' '"'^'^ ■'""«8. a phosphoric sea And the in^ rain conies da,.cin^. to the earth ' And now a..a n 'tis black, -and^.ow the X ' As t ov': 'ii •" '"."'''"J'''' «i'h its mountain >nirth /ON « ! ' "'^°""' "" * ^■"""" «"th,uakes l,i'rth."_(„, ua ) (9) Sometimes nature's movements are nresfM.flrl' 1 i • outsule of and heyoiul man's control an^com , J nl" ^^l"-^ ^") /'rl'l^lIlT*^'^"' 9. tempests, is the ^'oal? Are ye like those within the human breast ' (*) Tp^ h""' **'?'i'>'-'eP and dark blue ocean- roll ' ' Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain • ' Man niarks the earth with rui,._W8 "o, tro ' Stops with the shore," ete.-(iv "79 ) °""°' (10) The poet sometimes ministers to our sniritual .,■..,• by making nature symbolize the eternal L J^nwli: 3! GSs?sern%trsts"'"'' ''^ ^"""''"''^•« '-«» Theima.eofSSi::ra-^-^"— 0( the Invisible".— (IV. 183.) XXIII. Studies of Man. Studies of man will include portraiture dres. anrl . . ments modes of action, character, and feelings '''°"'^'- In the selections from Bvron tJi«,.^ „ * three brothers in the ''^riWr of ChiHon""' P^'''"^?- '^^^ only one or two picturesque torches each "" '""^'^' "^^'^ ^or IS man in action strikingly illustrated in fi, ections. In "Childe Harold" n/24 25 ffi 1?. f f '"," the most vivid description of this kind ' ^^ ^°""^ iB usually develoned IncidentX b^- , ''''^°^ '^' "'^*°''« speeches." The descriDtion .f 5 A """^ ^^ ^''^^'O"^ and pu^ed With .rrra ?^ a aTlLfa.'Ti,; 38 CRITICAL INTHODUUTION. all of Byron's poetry the description of the feelin-s plays a prorn.nont part. In the "Prisoner of Chillon" this is tlu'Tery centre of interest Tn « ni,;i.i„ tt....-i.i,, ., ^ ^" ^*"y centre of interest. In " Childo Harnlrl" Vl^ ,' "'"'^ „« 1 /. 1. «^iui(io naioia tlie many out nirt^Ka of personal feeling and the ahnost cou.plete id.mtiSi of the least of the many attractions of tha poem. are not JCXIV. Poetic Uses of Epithets. T'lere is nothing more ch,•u•acteris^,io of poetry than the pro- rhets'fl ^^^'1^'^--- «f the epithet ^Eiiu.inll ^the epithets from any hue aarrat ve or dcsciintive n'is^n<,f> ..„rl f main elements of force and beauty J^^ 'in pfctu esc uc! passages sometimes all the salient featu.'^s are in th ep tlX Besides the ordinary {.rose use of the epithet as qmdifyint or limiting a noun, we find several uses peculiar to poet y Already haye been noticed the co-ordinating epithet, th^at^" thetical epithet, the transferred epithet, and the u- tst ve ep. he of pictor al descriptions. vIe ha;e the a tic ^^t'ory or pdeptic epithet in,--«Then tore with bloody taloif the m. wou?d 2 '"^^ '^'' ^^^PPy ""'^ ""' •-'' ^Pitl'et idealizes what would otherwise be an ordinary expression and thus giveslt an attractive dignity, as "the gloiciny hours" for . t^nie o happiness and exciten.ont. A passage is often made imp e si ye beloyed!" ^^^ °"'^ "^' '''' ^°^"^«" l-ely,'and XXV. Concreteness and Comhination. As objects in the concreta are more easily conceived thin their^aj>stract properties, we find co.cre^..i. a charactris;" Cumulation, or combimtion, is another poetic device as connnon as concreteness and often accompanying it IsXtion IS as rare m poetry as abstraction is. Tife pLt mu tiplTes Z combines objects, situations, characters, incidents, ima" s o produce a harmonious and effective whole The following passages of " Childe Harold" wJll .•I]„c:f,„t8 taese two devices: ii 87; iij. 13; m. 32; m. 46." ""^^ lings plays a is is tli(^ very ■ny outljursts ntifluation of iiself are nofc ClUTlt'AL INTHODUCTION. S9 han the pio- iniinate the sage and tJie picturesque ;h(' epithets, s qualifying to poetry, et, the anti- suggestive icipatory or on the rent alizes wliat lius gives it ' 1 time of impressive ie root, as ; ovely, and Jived than -racteristic device as Isolation 'iplies and images, to illustrate XXVI. l>tanKific Dfivicps. ;li<^ position of d.a„.atic act rs ^ "T"'" *'' •'*"""' ^•^^''"t ""-•'>■' a siM.ilar result is ,;..„, ", T^' f"*"'"^ ^« "C'i"l«i" serve to iM.part life and va e v 'm \ ""•""•' ^«^'^'^« ^hat the n.odcs a,e :- ^ ^" *-'"' descriptions. 8o,„,. „f (1) The sul.ject is apr,strophiml, as:- («) ;i;airO,eu.e; .a., relic of .Ic,,.,,.., worth!" -(„ 73) ■ Co„nno,.or .,„, captive of ti.o earth art thou I"-,,. 37 ) y ) 'Thou too art j;oiio."_(„ 9^ ) ^i". d7.) .n ^/'''"'^"'^"'^•""^^"".-no.i.orvr -,.... 1.) (-) The reader or so.ue supposed auditor is addressed, as - beSJe^^rCir;^;:!;::;;^^^^^^^^^ " iJid ye not luur if Vr. . •».. 1 Or the car >attli, .. oVr th,', . '"' '"" ""-' "'""l. (3)Thed;;;: i;:::z:;:-7--''>-.ore...-o.....) been noticed in Sectiolr;^ 'a tT'^'^^u ""' ""«^-'- ^as device is found in C. H. n. 98-!. """»' illustration of this "What is the wor.t Of wooH that wait onager X.WII. Poetic Uaniinnij. The very essence of fine-art efiects is to n i . The various kinds of m,i,iral I...... . P''Of'"ce harmony e-red to in Section xx Ct , 'Trn r^' ^'T"'^ '^^'^ - J,'eneral inipressiveness are in"'k;enin., fin {, "'""^ '"^^'^^'^ ^"^ .l«cts of the stanzas, - the hem v f . *'" ''^■^P^'^'tl^H suh- animation of the ball; in ,n o^kI 'f "'"? ^"^ ^'^'^ b"lliant level, not much ahove the an'tJiS^l^r oV^l^^^ J 40 CRITICAL INTUODUCTION. Hul^jeol not being on.* that nujuires th« sauio elevation of (2) Nature is made to harmonize with human actions and sent.ments,-th.s boing, in fact, one of the fundan.ental in- stHicts of poetry. This has been referred to in Section xxii. « rurther examples are : (a) " Tho yuoen of tlilex on hiRh connentlnjf »hone. '— (C. H. ii. 80.) /Ij\ "Thu llsli 8Hnm hy the .astlc wall, And tlii'.v .st'onied Joyous eiicli unil all."— (I', of C.) (3) In the development of character there should l>e no want ot liarmony, no inconsistencies. In "Childe Marold " as the hero is almost identical with the poet, harmony of char- acter IS not wanting. j «i 1 ^'^Mi""'," ^'^^^^ °^ artistic cumulation (section xxv.) there sliould be harmony amon-/ the parts. The harmony of C H III. .32, IS somewhat doubtful. Are the similitudes in keepinc with one another ? ^ ° (5) In a whole poem unity of plan is a kind of harmony. Every detail should have a suitable ph.c,. and a definite relation to the whole work. ![«,,, ,„ay be examined the relation which stanzas 94-98 of Canto u. of "Childe Harold" bear to the mam part of the poem. XXVIII. Idea/if)/. One of the most attractive features of poetry is Ideality Poetry would be spiritless indeed without hyperbole and un- reality, as the human mind delights to get away from the tameness of actual things, and to contemplate the hvAwv creations of its hopes and fancies. There are two distinct lorins of ideality : — (1) The representation of things that have little or no re- lation to actual life, and (2) The representation of things in an exaggerated form Some examples of the latter are these :— (a) The ideal glories of G reece — " And yet how lovely in thine age of woe Land of lost gods iuul godlike men, art thou ! Tnv vaie'' ^f ^\f'' i-h-- k;>«- -r i- . 'a.e- — ,.M , _ ^ rr,j tiiiia yf sirjv.' froclaini thee Nature's varied favorite now." iiue elevation of man actions and fundamental in- 1 tSeution xxii. «). -(C. H. II. 80.) ) e should be no iild(! Harold," as it-mony of char- tion XXV.) there irmony of C. H. ;udes in keeping nd of harmony, definite relation e relation which id" bear to the Jtry is [deality. perbole and un- away from the late the highcn- re two distinct little or no re- erated form. i CHITIUAr. INTHUUIC'TION. 41 (/>) The ideal happiness of the ball-room— "A thousand hi,arts beat happily," etc. ('•) Ideal melody — " The sweutogt sonjr car ever heard."~(p c 2fi4 ) XXIX. ^" reify. The highest form of N„vulty is Ori-inalitv WJH * • vention or originality ; poet can ti, pT ^" .^^''''""^ i"" rank. The selections fro. Rv^. . i5'', "^''^ '"*« ^'"^ ^^^^ reference to oriJnll v n h, tl 'll^ '*" examined with a In melodious and other metrical eflects {'() In hgui-ative efft'cts (e) In the interest of the whole composition. XXX. f'anc}/ and Imagination. "P the topi. r„ Cx:t'r',";jTr"e;„i"Sr " "-^ Coleridge deals with it in h;« «R,v lu,- V !''" "".^ his poems. in Part III. Section 2, of ' <'MoXrn Pa^nr'^'^T ^"^^^"' question at considerable len.^ 7t ^^'i.^:^^: 4^ ORITICAI. INTnouUCTlON. expressions a„d ertfe* """«' '■""""■ """' 'l'""' l..,a,.i„ati„n. Ho»e' e „ ve „ ti.-fm!,,;""' /''^ '"""''. °' wi be found in Hip «.!».( t , = *^ °^ nnasmiit on voiuine. I ^?o lute ," ;■% r" ."'" *""" °""*'"<"* "> "''» "Childe Harold ' , ,,' ' ' f °T'° '"■ ''""' "' •'»""' '"• <>' Slowing with ta,.i,: ve fe,r . ^X r"""''' M '"'""«"» on Clare,,. (,„. ,,1,02), and'o^rE Sa' ;. ' r'lT f "'""^''" (a) " nim with a dull imprmmed rav ^ ' A sunbeam which halh loxt its m,V."-(In, ) \^) wk"! V"^" there was a little isle, Which in my very face ,/«,< 6m,7^."--,I,n ) ^^'^ Tii-!^/''?. "; '''*'''V'^' ''•°"' ^""^ heavenly throne ^j" '."/'''■'• tfia,,,,. A,.,-./b,m reflected v«;v."-(K (^) Ah^r ■T'"""'^ '"""^ ^o"**---^' column ,„„„r«.s' ^ Above Its i-rostiate brethren of the cave. ' -(f„,.) (e) "Where a blue sky and i/lotoiui, clime extends. "-(P.) (/) " Nature's pa^es i/lassed by su.ibeams on the lake."_(P.) (^) Pn,,.., f« *i, 1, "And thesprinff xvT 'ut^' '""' """''' "flMliiess to contrive With all her reckless Uirl upon the w"'""l' (i,,,) {h) " And chiefless castles breathing stern /arewelU"-^irn.) XXXI. Taste. "Taste is the kind of artistic excellence that cives fh« greatest amount of pleasure to cultivnfprl nuurh " Tl^f judgment t.xt produces this quality" has alsj the sa^^rdeS^ 10 \ he uses of the notion of the >-«ulty. It is It cleo=l element tliere is an eleme, f H°V • ™, """ Pe'n'»nent and individuals. It is lar~lv vl. T™! "■'"■ "8"'' "■>"»"■«». 'live,^ity in literary judSel^ '" "^*^ """ ™«=» '""l- tast-"""" ""'^*^' ^^"■' -« violates these canons of (a) Mannerisms should be avoided M ■fb'*''T',f r" '"'™ "° P'"°« '» " «ood style sa^l^'"^ *™" "» -'*er prolixity no"; violent conden- /) Lucd.ty IS a pr,me requisite in literary style (?) Tawdry ornamentation should be avoided ' e.p'i^Son^^Btits^lS'--:::""- - -' - "> (o) Ihe discursiveness of "Childe Harold " V c« K^. a. III. 1, note, and ii. 95-98.) xxxn. ception of wLt constitutes the beautiLr''''! ''''^^' '^' «°'^- to the taste of f!,e individuni ^'^"*^'^"' "^"^^ vary aonording copious sources of the p eas^es of"n2 '' ""' '^ '^'^ '"^^^ pait of the vocation of v;:::,:'^::^c:\:\::i::^ ^«H 44 ORITIOAL INTRODUCTION. that 18 m the world around him, and to the noble thoughts and affec xng sentiments that give us pleasures of a plac^ kind eve anTthr; *^ '' Fff,' "^f °"^^ '^ objects that please the eye and the ear, and to thoughts and sentiments, but also to the artistic language that gives a vivid and attractive ex pression to all these things, and even to the melody and har- mony that accompany these graces of writing A brief study of the scene viewed by the Prisoner of Chillon with a "loving eye »-(<«! saw them . . I f.u theteni ^T "'T '"^ ^""^*^'-^*^ ^°"^« ^^ ^^e applica^ons; ZJ ru "''"*''*'' '"''-'^ '' ^'^'^ ^«^^"^«d ^i^h some ful- ness .-Ihesnow-capt mountains; the far-extending lake: the blue river; the gushing torrents; the rocks and bushes- the white-wal ed town ; the sails of passing ships ; the small careen sle, with Its three tall trees, its flowing" waters and its flowers the' n^^r".^ ^'' ; '^^ "^^"= ^^S'«- ^' -i" »- not ced th't the poet makes a strong appeal to our sensuous appreciation but'ilMttl """r" ^°' "^^y ^^ '^'' ^-"« - beautiful one! but all its suggestive associations tend to stir our gentler of time the imaginative joy that the poet puts into the river tend^rill-P '''/" ''' \^^'^'''S ^^^^" *° tenderness our tender feelings are also touched by the mention of the flowers with their sweet scents and hues. The striking contrast be- tween the beauty and joy of nature and the "chLged frame'' and pitiable condition of the Prisoner "To whom the ROodly earth and air Are batin d and barr'd,— forbidden fare," and the effect of the view on his spirits when new tears come to his eyes and he feels troubled,-these powerfully enhance tl tefd "^ '^^"'^'u^ -P^^^^Se, the charming scene, w" th aH ts tender suggestions, being presented in a touchingly pathetic setting. In examining this passage for literary beauty there 18 a more important matter to consider. The poet has chnin a suitable subject for the exercise of his art, and'he has. ouTt various poetic devices to his aid; but he has also clothed hs description and his sentiments in pleasing language and h^ charged the whole passage with an agreeable melody I 3 thoughts and 1 placid kind, hat please the ts, but also to attractive ex- lody and har- PrisMier of . . . I f=!t pplica*ions of 'ith some ful- ing lake ; the bushes; the 3 small green d its flowers ; noticed that appreciation eautiful one, our gentler los of length to the river, the lish, and lerness ; our the flowers, contrast be- ged frame" ■ tears come lly enhance ne, with all jly pathetic auty, there has chosen las brought clothed his ?e, and has THE PRISONER OF ClIILLON. I. My hair is groy, but not with yours -Nor ^M'cw it white ' In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fciirs • My hmbs are bowM, though not with toil. ^ isut rusted with a vilo rei)ose, For they have been a dungeon's' spoil And mine has been the ^f ate of those To whom the goodly earth and air Are bann'd, and barr'd-forbidd,,,, fare : liut this was for my father', faith I suffer'd chains and courted death • That father perish'd at the stake ' For tenets he would not forsak.! ■ And for the same his lineal race' In darkness found a dwellinrn, these Jiinh.s its teeth'ivn.ain ^. I; marks that will not wear aw.;; ' J^ill have done with this new dav, \\ iich now IS painful to these ey,; Mh.chhavenotseenthesunsori.se T n \'7'~} "'''""^^ '"'^"^ them o'er, I ost their long and heavy score ' When my ast brother droop'd and died, And I lay living by his side. il in. Tiiey chain'd us each to a column stone And we were three-yet, each alone: ' A\ could not move a single pace, ' \Vo could not see each other's face, But, with that pale and livid light 1 .at made us strangers in our sight : And thus together-yet apart, " Je t.nd in hand, bu^join'd in heart, Inas still some solace, in the .learth }Jt the pure elements of earth, io hearken to each other's speech. And each turn comforter to each \Vith some new hope, or legend old. ' 'I ■■'"ng heroically bold ; i>iH even these at length grew cold THK PIUSONEK OF CHILI.OIf. Our voices to..k a dreary tone A.I cclio of the dungeon stone, A grating sound-n^«t full and free As they of yore were wont to be : I*. <>",,l.t be fancy-but to mo Alley m'ver sounded like our own. IV. I was the eldest of the three, And to upiiold an.l cheer the rest I ought to do-and did-niy be.t And each did well in his de^J. ' 1Ih3 youngest whun, my father loved. B.rm.e our mother's brow was given To Ium-w,th eyes as blue as h^aveu- For hnn my soul was sorely moved • And truly might it be distress'd ' To see such bird in such a nest: t"V he was beautiful as day— 0\'hen ,Iay was beautiful to me As to you n.,^ eagles, being free)— A polar day, which will not see A sunset till its summer's gone Its sleepless summer of long'lil'God! it is a fearful thin.. To seo tlK- IniiMuu s.,ul tuk.- win-' ;' any sliup.., iu any uumd : "" Ive seen it ruslun,:,^ funi, in blood. I vo seen ,tou the breaking ocean SU.ve with a swoInco„v,,l.ive motion, I je seen the sick an.! ghastly bed |f sin (lelinuiis with its dread • .lit these u;..re iionvrs-this was woo Unnnx'd with such but sure and slow J He faded, an.l so calm and meek, bo soft y worn, so sweetly weak, bo tearless, yet so tender— kind And grieved 'for those he left behind: ^V ith all the while a cheek whose blo'om VVus as a mockery of the tonil), Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainlww's ray • An eye of m.,st transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright. And not a word of murmu!-not A groan o'er liis untimely lot — A httle talk of better days, ' A httle hope my own to raise, ^or 1 was sunk in silence— lost In this ]ast loss, of all the most; And then the sighs he would suppress Of fainting nature's feebleness I listen d, but T could not hear: 1 call d, for I was wild with fear • I knew 'twas hopeless, but my dread Would not bo thus admonished : I calld, and thought I heard a sound- 1 burst my chain with one stron-' l,ound Andrush'dtohim:-Ifoundhim ' / on y stirr'd in this black spot, ' /only hved—/ only drtM" The accursed breath of dungeon-dew : Tiie last-the sole-the dearest link THE PRISONER OP OHILLON. Between me and the eternal brink, Winch bound me to my failing race, Was brolven in this fatui place. One on the earth, and one beneath— My broth.>rs-both had ceased to breathe 1 took that hand which lay so still, A as! my own was full as chill ; 1 liad not strength to stir, or strive, J'lit felt tliat I was still alive— A frantic feeling, when we know iiiat what we love sliall ne'er be 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 angr(cs came hack My senses to their wonted track ; I saw the dungeon walls and floor Close slowly rotmd me as before; I saw the glimmer of the sun Creeping as it before had done, But through the crevice wlicre it came That bird was perchM, as fon.l and tame, And tamer than upon the tree; A lovely bird, with azure wings, ' And song that said a thousaiK? things, And seeni'd to say them all for m"e'! I never saw its lik<» before, I ne'er shall see its likeness more : It seem'd like me to want a mate, But was not half so desolate, And it was come to love me when None lived to love me so again, And cheering from my dungeon's briidc, Had brought me back to feel and think. I know not if it late were free, Or broke its cage to peroh on mine, But knowing well captivity, Sweet bird ! I could not wish for thine ! Or if it were, in winged guise, A visitant from Paradise ; J^m''^^^'''^''^" forgive that thouirht ! tlie while Which made me both to weep and smile— I sometimes deem'd that it might bo My brother's soul come down to me ; But then at last away it tiaw, And then 'twas mortal— well I knew, For he would never thus have flown,' And left me twice so doubly lone— ' Lone— as the corse within its shroud, THE PRIRONKIl OI' fHILLON. Lone — as a solitary cloud, — A single cloud on a sunny day, While all the I'ost of heaven is clear, A frown upon the atmosphere, That hath no Itusincss to appear When skies are hlue, and (^arth is gay. XI. A kind of rhango canie in jny fate, My keepers grew compassionate; I know not what had made them so, They were inured to sights of woe, But so it was :_my broken chain' With links unfasteucMl did remain, And it was liberty to stride Along my coll from side to side. And up and down, and thiMi atliwart, And tread it over ovcsry part ; And round the pillars "oiid by' one. Returning where my walk b'egun. Avoiding only, as I trod, My brothers' graves without a sod; For if I thouglit with heedless tread My step profaned their lowly bed, My breath came gaspingly and thick, And my crush'd heart fell blind and ^ick. XII. I made a footing in the wall, It was not therefrom to (escape, For I had buried one and all Who loved me in a human shape; And the whole (Nirth would henceforth be A wider prison unto mo : No child— no sire— no kin had I, No partner in my misery ; I thought of this, and I was glad, For thought of til. ■Ml had made me mad ; Jjut I was curious to asdond To my barr'd windows, and to bend 68 64 rnv. PiMsovRR op ohillon. |^C« nioiv upon the mountains hi«h The qmet of a loving oye. ^ ' xm. I saw them~aiu( they were the same J M> 1 th. on'ei.Ls l.ap ami gMsl, OorohannemrnckaM.lhn.keV. iMi.h. I.awtH. whiUMvallM distant to n Ami then there was a little i.^l. Wh.c-1. .n my very face did snu'le, 1 Jie only one in view ; A small green isle, it seem'd no more ?'"; " '^ .t'"^''" ^^'ere three tall trees I'e hsh swam by the castle wall. And they seem'd joyous each and all • Tlieeagl,, , ode the risin- blast Metho^^^^^ ■As hen to me he seem'd to fly • And hen new tears came in m; eve fhad'ml^lffr"'^'-^"'^-"'^''' 1 iiaa not left my recent chain • And when I did descend agai.' Th da-kness of my dim abode J^eJl on me as a iieavy load ; ft was as is a new-.lug grav^, Closn,g o'er one we sought t; save,- And yet my glauce, too mucli op,, 'e-t Had almost need of such a rest ' o> It XIV. ni'S'it be monti Ik fpt no count— I took '^ or years, or days, no note. TfIR l>ai,SON|.;il OF (JIIILLON. I had no Iiope my oyoa to laiso, A.Hl clear thorn of their drt.'iuy moto ; At lust men ciime to snt nm fmo, T ask',1 nU wliy, and reck'd lu.l where • t was lit lonj,'lli th,. saniu to me, ' I'otter'd or fottiMlc.-s to ho, J h'arn'd to hiv" a".si,:,ir. An,l thnswhen l.cy ai.)„.',r'd at last, And all my hon h .'sido woo oust, lli.'s.- h.'avy wu.'i .,. me h, d grown A honnitaf,'e— and U >pv own ' And half 1 felt as t! y were come lo tear mo from a second home • With spiders r had friendship m'ade And watch'd them in their sullen trade Hnd soon the mice hy moonli-ht plav ' Aud why should I feel less than they ? VV e were all inmat(!s of one place, And I, the monarch of each race,' Had ijower to kill—yet, stran-e to tell J In quiet we had learned to dwell • My very chains and I grew friends, feo much a long communion tends I'l made us what we are :— even I Kegain'd my freedom with a si to dance at m;)sking l)all. And join the mimic train of merry Carnival. LXXIX. And whose more rife with merriment than thine, U Stamboul ! once the empress of their reie: V) he iid for me what none beside have done Ivor mr,ink from one albeit unworthy thee ^h ic 13 my being ? thou has ceased to l,.p i iSot «uaid to welcome here thy wanderer home ;W ho mourns o'ev hours which we no mo.,, shall see- A\ould they had never been, or were to cn.ue - Would he had ne'er return'd to find fresh cau.se to roan, 1 XCVI. Oh ! ever loving, lovely, and beloved ! How selfish Sorrow ponders on the past, And chngs to thouglits now better far removed ! But Time sha tear thy shadow from me last. All thou could St have of mine, stern deatli ! thou Inst • The parent, fnend and now the more than fri nd ' Ne er yet for one thine arrows flew so fast ' And grief with grief continuing still to blend Hath snatched the little joy that life haxl yet lo lend. XCVII. Then must I plunge again into the crowd. And follow all that Peace disdains to seek ? \\ here Revel calls, and Laughter, vainly loud, ial e to the heart, distorts the hollow cheek, To eave the flagging spirit doubly weak ; Still oer the features, wliich perforce they c'.- ... lo ieign the pleasure or conceal the pique? Sniiles fc ,, the channel of a future ., v Or raise the ■,. Lhing lip with ill-dissem]. .'l suoer nil If CHILDB HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. XCVIII. What sta,n,,s he wrinkle deeper on the brow? To vievv each loved ...e blotted from life' . And be alone on earth, as I am now. ' ° ' Before the Chastener luunbly let me bow, Oer hearts divided and o'er hopes d.stro d • Koll on va.n days ! f„ll reekless may ye^\l ' w Since 1, me hath reft whate'er my soulem- ,v^l And with the Ills of Eld mine earlfer ytrJ'iToyU 63 CANTO THIRD. I. Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child t Ai>A ! sole daughter of n,y hous^e and h rt ? Stirje7';f^eir''^-^^^'"'"^''"''^^' Ti . • , , " ' — '^^^ 3-8 now we niir*- But with a hope.— vepait, TliP v,.nf 1 Awaking with a start, I he waters heave around me; and on hi4 hewuuIshftuptheirvoic.es: I depar'r Whither I know not; but the hour's .^o ne bv ^^ l.en Albion's lessening shores could g.eve iT'glad mine eye. II. Once more upon the waters ! yet once more . And he waves bound beneatif me as a steed That knows his rider. Welcome to their roar ! Swrffc be the.r guidance, wheresoe'er it lead - Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed And the rent canvas fluttering stJew the lale ' Sill must I on ; for I am as a weed, ^ ' VVhereei the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail. HI. In my youth's summer I did sing of One Ihe wandering outlaw of his own dark ni'ind ; 64 OHiLDE Harold's pilgiumaqe. Again I seize the theme, then but becun. And bear it with me, as the rushing wind J^eurs tlie cloud onwards: in that Tale T find he furrows of long thought, and dried-up tears, VV hid, ,.bb,„g leave a steole track behind, Her wn.n all heavily the Journeying years Plod the last sands of life.-where iot a flower appears. IV. Since my young days of passion,_joy, or pain, Peroha.u-e n.y heart and harp have lost a string, And both may jar : it may be, that in vain 1 would essay as I have sung to sing. Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I clin" • ho that It wean me from the weary dream" Ut selhsh grief or gladness— so it tlin" i^orgetfulness around me— it shall seem lo me, though to none else, a not ungrateful theme. V. He, who grown aged in this world of woe In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, ho that no wonder waits him ; nor below Can love or sorrow, fame, ambition, strife, tut to his heart ngain with the keen knife Ut silent, sharp endurance : he can tell Why thought seeks refuge in lone caves, yet rife With airy linages, and shapes which dwell htill unimpair'd, though old, in the soul's haunted cell. VI. 'Tis to create, and in creatin<> live A being more intense, that we endow With form our fancy, gaining as we give Ihe life we image, even as I do now. What am I ? Nothing ; but not so art thou, Soul of my thought! with whom I traverse earth, Invisible but gazing, as I glow Mix'd with thy spirit, blended with thy birth And feeling still with tl lee ill my crush'd feelings' dearth. CIIILDK HAROLD'S l'll,(il{|MAGK. 65 vii. Yot must I think less wildly :-I have thou.^ht loo long anc , Hrkly, till ,ny brain beoan.e. ^ In Its o^vn eddy boiling and o'erwn.i.ght A wlnrhng gulf of phantasy and (lan.e : ' And thus, untaught in youth n.y heart to tame My springs of l.fe were poison'd. 'Tis too late' In t e",fth?''f ' '^r^^'- ^'^" ^"«"«'' ^'- — Jn sttengtl to bear what time cannot abate And feed on bitter fruits without acx-using Fate. VIII. So.n :^hing too much of this :-but now 'tis n-i.t And the spell closes with its silent seal ^ ' Long absent Hakold re-appears at last; He of the breast which fain no more would feel Wrung with the wounds which kill not, but ne Vr heal • Yet lime, who changes all, had alter'd him In soul and aspect as in age : years steal tire from the mind as vigor from the limb; And life a enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim. IX. His had been quafPd too quickly, and he found I1U3 dregs were wormwood ; but he filiVl again. An from a purer fount, on holier ground,' ' And deem d Its spring perpetual; but in vain! Which gall'd for ever, fettering though unseen And heavy though it clank'd not ; worn with pain Winch pined although it spoke not, and c^rew keen l^ntering with every step lie U through mln; a s'ene. X. Secu re in guarded coldness, he had mix'd Again m fancied safety with his kind, And deem .] i^l, spirit now so firmly fix'd And sheath-^ vith an invulnerable mind, ^iuat, u no joy, uo sorrow lurk'd behind • TL.! 5 f °''^' ?'^^'^ '""^^t *he many stand VJnheeded, searching through the crowd to find ■»> 66 '.'HiLDK Harold's pilguimaqe. Fit, speculation; such as in strange land He tound in wonder-woiks of God and Nature's hand. XT. But who can view tl„ ripen u n>.e, nor seek io wear it? who can cuiiously holiold The smoothness and the sJieen of l.eauty's cheek Nor feel the lieart ..tn never all ,m-ow o1,I ? ' Who can conten.plate Fame tlirough clouds unfold Ihe star winch rises o'er her steepfnor clin.h? Harold, once more within the vortex, roll'd On with the giddy circle, chasing Time Yet with a nobler aim than in his youth's fond prime. XII. But soon he knew hims. if the most unfit Of men to herd wvh I\Ian; with whom he held Liittle in conniion ; untaught to sul»init His thoughts to others, though his soul was queli'd In youth by his own thoughts: still uncompHl'd He would not yield dominion of his mind lo spirits against whom his own rebdl'd • Proud though in desolation; which ctihUind A life within Itself, to oreathe without mankind. xnr. Where ■ .« the mounta,,,., there to him were friends • Where roll d the ocean, thereon was his home • Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, extends' He had th . i>. ision and th,. power to . ^am • ' Ihe desert, forest, cavern, In'eaker's foam ' VV ere unto him companionship , they spake A mutual language, cl-are. han the tome Of his land's tongue, uch 1. • would oft forsake For Natures pages glas by mbeams on th, ,ake. XIT. Like the Chaldean, he could watch the stars, lill he had peopled them with beings britrht As their own beams; aad earth, and earth-born jars, And human frailties, were forgotten (juite: OHILDK HAHOLD's P.LaH.MAOK. Could he have kept his spirit to that flight To had heen happy ; hut this day will si k ^^tsspaH.„n,n,.tal..nvyin.^ lo whicli It mounts, us if to hrcak iC linl- i).at keeps us fro. yon he.von whid/tooJ'is to its brink. XV. But in Man's dsvellin-s he l„.,.,„ne a thintr Hestless and worn, and s,..n. a, .^,3., f'''.op'd as a wild-horn fain, with Hi 'Tim. l<-vhonUhe hotUHlless air ,Uon. wAX e ^^^ Ihen ean.e Ins tit a,.u„, which to o'e ,. Z Aseagerly the harr'd-uphird will h,,' Jdi the blood tn.ye his plu,„air,, so U.e heat Of h.s .n.peded soul would throujh' his bosom eat. XVI. Self exiled Harold wanders forth a^ain • at .l7 ^"«^'''''«« that he lived in vain, " ' ^.at all was over on this side tl... .„nb Whir ' ?>!' '' «'»•'•■»«"««« "ssumJ, XVII. An Earthquake . spoil is sepuh-hred below! Is the spot marked with no colossal bust Nor colu.,u trophied for trinn.phal show None; but th. • moral's truth tells sin. pier so As the ground was before, thus let it be _! ' AndwlV'"i"T '^^*^* "^'^^^ t''« harvest grow r And is this all the world has gain'd by thee ' Thou first and la.t of fields ! khrg-n.akilfg vl^ry ? _ XVill. A_ at Harold stands upo,. thrs place of skulls Ihe grave of Prance, th. deadly Waterloo ! 67 68 ' CUILDB HAHoLD's PILGKIMAOB. m Its gifts transforrnig fame as fleeting too In''pn.loofplaco''hon,la.stthe,.afe;^etlew Then torn wjth l.loocly talon the rent p]nlu' Pierced by tl.e shaft of hanrled nations tl.,h • An,lnt.on-.s Jife and labors all wen- va n ''' ' il« wears the shattor'd links of the world's'broken chain. XIX. Fit retribution! (|aul may champ the bit And toani in fetters- l..,f .• K \ Ml r« ecus, -hut is earth more free? ^Oh nations combat to u.ake (>.« submit Or league to teach all kings' tru;'s;;Ve;^,ty ? I reviving Thraldom again be What! shall r,,, , , ,, ■-;■■"•« iinaidom again be Ihepatch'd-up idol of enlighten'd days? ray tJie Wolf homage ! pr„(lering lowly c,a/e And servile knees to thrones ? No; V.. bSre ye praise I XX. In Taint' "T ^f''' ^'■'P°' ^'^'' "° '""••« .' For Furon'l''''' '7''^ ^"'■'-'^^^'d ^i*h hot tears ^or Europe's flowers long rooted up before The trampler of her vineyards; in vain years Have all been borne, and broken by the accord O roused-up millions; all that most endears Sufh Jr' ""^'7 '^l^^y^'^^ -reaths a sword Such as Harmodius drew on Athens' tyrant lord. XXI. There was a sound of revelry by nicrht. And Belgium's capital had gather'd^hen Her Beauty and her CJiivalry, and bright The la„,p3 shone o'er fair women and brave men ■ A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous ;well, ind T f ''^ ^°^' '° 'y^' ^hich spake again And all went merry as a marria^e-beJl • " ' But hush I hark 1 a deep sound strikes like a rising knell I Is i-i" > mn chain. ye praise I rs ing knell I CHILDE HAltUl.D'H PILOniMAUE. XXII. J)id ye not hoar it?-No; 'twas hut the wind, r the oar rattling o'er the stony Htroet; r^n vv.th tho dann, ! let j.y l.e uncnfiued ; No Hleep t.ll ,norn, wh.-n Youth a.ul I'lras.re meet I chase ho «l..w,n. Houns v,-ith (lyin^ foet- - I. U ha,.k .'-that heavy sound h.^aks in ..nre ,nore. As f.|„.,Iouds Its echo wouM repeat: And m-aror. clearer, deadlier than heforo i Arn. ! Arm ! ,t is-it is-the cannon's opening roar I 69 xxin. Within a window'd niche of that high hall hate Brunswick's fat.-d cin-eftain ; he did hear That sound the hrst annMst the festival And caught it.s tone with Death's prophetic ear • And when they sniil.d because he deen.'d it near. Is hear more truly knew that peal too well ' \^ hich stretched lus father on a hlo.uly bier, And roused the vengeance blood alone could .mell • He rush d into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell. ' XXIV. Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro And gathering tears and tremblings of .listress V^\"nt:''^ P-l«. which but an hour agr* Llush d at the praise of their own lovelin.^s • And there were sudden partings, such as press The hfe from out young hearts, an.l choking si-d.s JJhich neer ni.ght be repeated ; who couhfgues If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Smce upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise I XXV. And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed The nnistering squadron, and the clattering car ' Went pouring forward with impetuous spewed, ' And SWlftlv formiP" ^ tV>o ro-' f - And the deep thunder peal on peal afar • And near, the beat of the alarmin" drum 70 OHiLDE Harold's pilguimaob. ii \ Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; Wliile throng'd the citizens with terror dumb Or whispering, with wliite lips— "The foe ! they come ! they come !" XXVI. And wild and high the " Cameron's gatliering" rnso ! The war-note of Locliid, wliich Albyn's hills' Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes :— How in the noon of night that i)il)r(K;h thrills Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills Their mountain pipe, so till the mountaineers With the fierce native daring which instils The stirring memory of a tliousand years, And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in eacli cLiusmau's cars ! i XXVII. And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves. Over the unreturning l)rave, — alas ! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valor, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. XXVIII. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the sigmU-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day Battle's magnificently stern array ! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, Avhich when rent The earth is cover'd thick with other clay, Which her own clay sliall cover, lieap'd and pent. Rider and horse,— friend, foe,— in one red buiial blent I XXIX. Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine : Y"t one I would select from that proud throng, Partly because they blend me with his line, ciiiLUE Harold's pilgiumage. 71 And partly that I did his sire some wroni,', And partly that bright names will hallow^song j And his was of the bravest, and when showerVi' The death-bolts deadliest the thinn'd files alon" Even where the thickest of war's tempest lower'.] Ihey reached no nobler breast than thine, young gallant Howard ! XXX. There have been tears and breaking hearts .■or thee And mine were nothing, had I such to give ; ' But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree, Which living waves where thou didst cease to 'live, And saw around nie the wide Held revive With fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring Come forth her work of gladness to contrive, With all her reckless birds upon the wing, I turn'd from all she brought to those she could not brin^'. XX xr. I turn'd to thee, to thousands, of whom each And one as all a ghastly gap did make In his own kind and kindred, whom to teach Forgetfulness were meic^y for their sake ; The Archangel's trump, not Glory's, must awake; Those whom they thirst for; though the sound of Fame May for a moment soothe, it cannot slake The fever of vain longing, and the name So honor'd but assumes a stionger, ])itterer claim. XXXll. They mourn, but smile at length ; and, smiling, mourn : The tree wdl Avither long before it fail ; The hull drives on, though mast and sail be torn ; The roof-tree sinks, but moulders on the hall In massy hoariness ; the ruin'd wall Stands when its wind-worn battlements are gone ; Tlie bars survive the captive they ^iithral • The day drags through, though storms keep out the sun • And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on : ' 12 CHILDB Harold's pilgrimagb. XXXIII. Even as a broken mirror, whicli the dass In every fragment multiplies ; and makes A thousand images of one that was, The same, and still the more, the more it ],reaks : An(l thus the heart will do which not forsakes Lm„,,n3hatter'd guise ; and still, and cold! ' And bloodless, with its sleepless sorrow aches, Yet withers on till all without is old, bl' Jwing no visible sign, for such things are untold. XXXIV. There is a very life in our despair, Vitality of poison,— a quick root ^^ hich feeds these deadly branches ; for it were As no hing did we die ; but Life will suit Itself to Sorrow's most detested fruit Like to the apples or > Dead Sea's' shore. All ashes o the t.n.ie. j.na ,.nan compute ' Existence by e ,.,>.:.,,,, ar. , count o'er Such liours gainst ye.Ks of In-, -say, would he name threescore ? XXXV. The Psalmist number'd out the years of man • They are enough ; and if thy tale be true, ' Thou, who didst grudge him even that fleeting span More than enough, thou fatal Waterloo t ^ ^ ' Milhons of tongues record thee, and anew Tlieir children's lips shall echo them, and say- Here, where the sword united nations drew Uur countrymen were warring on that day ' »' And this IS much, and all which will not pis away. XXXVI. There sunk the greatest, nor the worst of men VVhose spirit, antithetically mixt ' One moinent .^f the mightiest, and again On little objects with like firmness hxt • Thv'^r '" ;'"/'''':f ' ^'"^'^ "'"'^ becn'betwixt, iliy tiirone hud still been thine, „r never been N CHiLDE Harold's pilgrimage. For daring made thy rise as fall : thou seek'st Even now to re-assume the imperial mien, And shake again the world, the Thunderer of the scene ! XXXVII. Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou ! She trembles at thoe still, and thy wild name Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now That thou art nothing, save the jest of Fame, Who woo'd thee once, thy vassal, and became The flatterer of thy fierceness, till thou wert A god unto thyself ; nor less the same To the astounded kingdoms all inert, Who deem'd thee for a time whate'er thou didst assert. 73 hreescore ? xxxvin. Oh, more or less than man — in high or low. Battling with nations, flying from the field ; Now making monarchs' necks thy footstool, now More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield ; An empire thou couldst crush, command, -ebuild, But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor. However deeply in men's spirits skill'd. Look through thine own, nor curb the lust of war. Nor learn that tempted Fate will leave the loftiest star. XXXIX. Yet well thy soul hath brook'd the turning tide With that untaught innate philosophy. Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride, Is gall and wormwood to an enemy. When the whole host of hatred stood hard by, To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hast smiled With a sedate and all-enduring eye ; — When Fortune fled her spoil'd and favorite child. He stood unbow'd beneath the ills upon him piled. XL. Sager than in thy fortunes ; for in them Ambition steel'd thee on too far to show u CHiLUK Harold's pjlouimagM. That just habitual scorn, which could contonm Men and then- thoughts ; 'twas wise to feel, not s. lo wear it ever on thy lip and brow, And spurn the instruments thou wert to use lill they were turn'd unto thine ovortiirow • lis but a worthless world to win or lose • No hath It proved to thee, and all such lot who rhoo^ so :)os(>, XLI. If, like a tower upon a headland rock, Thou hadst been made to stand or fail alone buch scorn of man had help'd to brave the shock ; Rut men s thoughts were tiie steps which paved thy (h.-one Then- adnurat.on thy best weapon shone • ^ ' liie part of Philip's son was thine, not then (Unless aside thy purple had been thrown) Like stern Diogenes to mock at men • l^or sceptred cynics earth were far too wide a den But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell And there hath been thy bane ; the're is a Hre And motion of the soul which will not dwell in Its own narrow being, but aspire -Beyond the fitting medium of desire • And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire ' Of aught but rest ; a fever at the core batal to him who bears, to all who ever bore. XLIII. This makes the madmen who have made men mad By their contagion ; Conquerors and Kin-s lounders of sects and systems, to whom aljd Sophists, Bards, Statesmen, all unquiet things Which stir too strongly the soul's secret sprin-s And are themselves the fools to those they fool • ^nvied, yet how unenviable ! what stin-s ^^ Are theirs ! One breast laid open werP^n «.],..! vvhicL wouia unteach mankind the lust to shine oi rule : CHiLDK Harold's pilguiwagk. 7fi sc, >y (liroii,. XLIV. Their breath is agitation, and their life A storm whereon tliey ride, to sink at last, And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife, That should their days, surviving perils' past, Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast AVith sorrow and supineness, and so die ; Even as a flame unfed, whicli runs to waste \Vith Its own flickering, or a sword laid by, VVliieh eats into itself, and I'usts ingloriously. XLV. He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow • He who surpasses or subdues mankind, Must look down on the hate of those below. Though high above the sun of glory glow. And far bmeath the earth and' ocean spread, Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow Contending tempests on his naked Jiead, And thus reward the toils which to those summits led. b: XLV I. Away with these ! true Wisdom's world will be Within its own creation, or in thine. Maternal Nature ! for who teems like thee, Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine ? ' There Harold gazes on a work divine, A blending of all beauties ; streams and dells, Fruit, foliage, ciag, wood, cornfield, mountain, vine, And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells From gray but leafy walls, Avhere Ruin greenly dwells. XLVH. And there they stand, as stands a lofty mind. Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd, All tenantless, save to the crannying wind. Or holding dai'k oonmiu'iion with the cloud There was a day when they were young and proud, iianners on high, and battles pass'd below; 7« CHiLDE Harold's pilqrimagr. But they who fought are in a bloody shroud, And those which waved are shredless dust ere now And the bleak battlements shall bear no future blow,' XLVIII. Beneath these battlements, within those walls Power dwelt amidst her passions ; in proud state Each robber chief upheld his armed halls, Doing his evil will, nor less elate Than mightier heroes of a longer date. What want these outlaws conquerors should have But history's purchased page to call them great ? A wider space, an ornamented grave 1 Their hopes were not less warm, their souls were full as brave. ' XLIX. In their baronial feuds and single fields. What deeds of prowess unrecorded died ! And Love, which lent a blazon to their shields With emblems well devised by amorous pride Through all the mail of iron hearts would glide ; But still their flame was fierceness, and drew on Keen contest and destruction near allied, And many a tower for some fair mischief won Saw the discolor'd Rhine beneath its ruin run. L. But Thou, exulting and abounding river ! Making thy waves a blessing as they flow Through banks whose beauty would endure for ever Could man but leave thy bright creation so, Nor its fair promise from the surface mow' With the sharp scythe of conflict,— then to see Thy valley of sweet waters, were to know Earth paved like heaven ; and to seem such to me Even now what wants thy stream ?— that it should Lethe be Th LI. A t.'iougaTiM j^attlca have assail'd thy banks But these and half their fame have pass'd away, )W, w. CHILDE HAROLD'8 PILGrUMAGB. And Slaughter heap'd on hi-h his weltering ranks ■ 1 hen- very graves are gone, and what are tiiey ? ' Thy tide wash'd down the blood of yesterday And all was stainless, and on thy clear stream Giass'd, with Its dancing light, the sunny ray But o'er the i.laclvcn'd memory's blighting dn'am Ihy waves would vainly roll, all sweeping as they seem 77 11 as brave. 5r ethe be. I i/: ^Kjjy^ NOTES ON THE PRISONER OF CllILLON. J e 1«1(., at a siumII ,„n, n, th,. little v.lla^^e „f Ouohy, on tlu. shores of L k.. Geneva near Lausanne, wi.ere Byron hapi.eued to be detained fo two days by stress of Weather. "'itu idi The poem owes its origin to the story of the inearceration of Franeois IJounivard, the great Geneve^e patriot. li,,rn in France in li'M>, Bi.nnivard re'o/rT"' ''*^'''" °^ GenevaTeuding'; lougl;n/useful Ufe io 1570 "at tile brothers to sliare his fate. ' ' —'--^ -.-nnivaixl had no In most editions the following '• Sonnet ou Chillon" introduces the i,oem; "Eternal Spirit of the ehainloss Mind ! Brightest in dui];,'eons, Liborfv, thou art I For there thy habitation is the lieart— The heart which love of thee alone ean bind • And when thy sons to fetters are consi^nied — To fetters, and the damp \aiilt's daylTiss k-Iooiii- And Ch Iheir eountry conquers witli their inartvnloni nd Freedom's fame finds winys on every "wind ' lillon ! thy prison is a holv place, And thy sad floor an altar ; for 'twas trod Unld his very sttjis have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod By Honnivard ! .May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to tjod." This was for my father's faith.-Notiee the odd use of 'this' for ' it.' For tenets, etc. — He was a Protestant, In darkness, etc.— Reconcile this with "One m fi'-e .i-ir! ^n-o i,- ^ -i •• lies 11 mean tile same as " Three were in a dungeon cast '' " " ^ Who now are one- Who is the ' one ' ? Wlio is the ' one iu age ' ? •1 NOTES ON THK PRISONER OP CHH.no.V. 79 s 'r^;etp;;:i;:;:t;^;f iii:\,Seirre;!^;;;;'"« ~-^'-i..-and r.,., u. Chillon.— Tliia famoua Swiss castle on I,»Ua f<>. , ■, . I.y a Cunt ,.f Sav.,-y, aud was ouce au m, ,.? ^*^"7»' ^"^^ »>'"lt '" 121« mountain pass. '^^ important stront^'hold, guarding a What is the difference between ' pillars ■ and ' columns ' '> Crevice.— Is this synonymous witli ' eleft ' ? ■^l^-^'J^^V'^:!i}t;:i:^^ ^^^^A^... popu.any k„own as seen on summer nights over mars liy places "'*'' '""""""^ appearance life, as this was his se,.„nd iZ,,-i", w' t"t'f "'"^. '"^''t^ "f duugeon of the Dui^e of Savoy, spent Z';:^ ^^^iS ^t J^Hl^rS' S^t "^ III. A column stone-Compare witl, " r„ each pillar there is a rin. " The pure elements of earth.-The free air under the open sky?" IV. se!i::!:!^.5:l?-^-« '""«"^' >-« ^ -t ..rce. Originally it had this TolTff ■ ■ '.'r '^'"-^'^*'- "- -'^-"J->t construction. Compir ^^'-"^-Tl^- -e of "below- is a mannerism of the poet's -The Waltz. —Childe Harold, III., v., 3. V. Had stood = would have stood, mfssfbie? *° P^-^^-Supply the ellipsis. Is the present construction per- BCH^t^h'r P«^''^-°«'»-I« there not a conflict between 'perch.ace' and •'"'«.' «til' tl'iH was a mutu-r of iudillerence to thorn,—" What were these to us or him ? " To us or him.— What is the use of adding' 'or liiin '? Had grown = \voiihl hnvc f,'rown. But why delay the truth 1-The ori^^iual MS. had, " I5ut why withhold lliti hlow (" — he died. To rend and gnash.- The original was " To hreak or l,ite." Discuss the coui|)iirative value of the readings. Empty chain.— How can a chain be called ' empty' ? vni. His mother's image.-Coi.ipare "Our mother's brow was given to him " The infant love, etc. most beloved of all. Who yet, etc.— 'Yet ' = 11 p to this time. Was struck —By what blow? nln^T V*' "--ff,^ellind._Observe th.. exquisite delioaoy in the use of the nf l,«=„ ' '""Z "", ? '\^"'",*'' ntioting: " By such a fanciful nuiltiplymg of the Rurv..,.,,.. toe elder brother prevents self-intrusion ; himself and his lonelr.F.-. .,,. , «„ ,t were, kept out of sight, and forgotten. There is a not unhke «,,;«; ,a.;.ess in the Scotch T-hrase 'them tlm's awa ' of some shi" e plural"'" •''" '' '°f'^"'''^ '^y vagueness. So, too, the Greeks used the the l!il*c^tl'i?e7^°*^ *^® accumulation of I's, and the climax of emphasis in But faith.— Compare i., U : " Rut this was for inv father's faith I suffered chains and co'uteil doath." .<,tlfi!}!^-^^"^®^*^'~'^^'r ^h">"a« ^'^i^'' forbade a „eif-intlieted death. Selfish may have reference to a death in the interests of self, as o„„osed to a death m defence of principles, or for the good of others. ^'osea IX. Wist.-The past of an old verb ' to wit '= ' to know ' ; present tense, < wot.' z. Alight broke in.-The description of the awakening of the prisoner from his torpor at the carol of a bird is very like the passage mThelm^Z Marmer, descriptive of the breaking of tlie spell that boulTd the mariner in " happy living things I no tongue Thtir beauty might declare : A spriiijr of love gushed from my heart. And I blessed thein unaware." Had made=would have made. xn. »0TK8 ON THE PRISONER OF OHILLON ei xm. oir hntitci-'s iiilereiice Uj ly witlilidld Discuss the en to him " id was the use of (lie iiultiplying lelf and liis ire is n not ome single [s used the nphasia in ed death. IS opposed nse, 'wot.' Thousand year, of anow.-The A! . are covered with perpetual snow. Wide long lake.- Lake Geneva. T,,„ original MS. had here : Distant town.-Vevay or Villeneuve. XIV. A hermitage. -Compare Lovelueo's lines: HUmu wallH do not a prison make, ."Her irorj ImrnaoiiKe ; ' Mii](Ih innocent and .juiet take llmt forahortnitajje" Sullen trade.-Silent, aditary, gloomy. oner from e Anuient aariner in ^ai^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I ^ us 110 11.25 U 11.6 ?r y. Photographic Sciences Corporation \ ^q ,v f>>^ •1? \\ "Ci^ ...^ O^ <^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 A •i I <^ ^ v^^* <^A U. 'A NOTES 0^ cmiDE HAROLD'S PILGItlMAGE. CANTO VlllST. Portngnl and Spain. I.-Tnv(,cation t„ tlu, Muse. Spain ayaiust the Moors and ^^i^C^'''^'''''''''^^^ Lisbon. SjiKin. ■^'"''^'"'^e resumes his Pii„rim„„„ . XXXV.-XXXVIII T. c. '' ■^''°'^™^ge, and passes into against Nai>oi;„n.^~^ ^tn.f,'<,^lps of XLV.-XLvI-Se;.ilfe'"^' '" ''''''^"•>' Ambition. LX-LXIV T. ^/'"'^» "^ ■'^l'""'. n..ua the^H-^"^"-'-" '" ^^^-'" i^u-n.ssus-(a di...ossion f . J^gXr^■ -^iS;j--H-Id's LOV.S .nd D,sa,,,ointn.onts. • ACIlI.-ciose of the Canto. ' "^^^"^ °^ '"« Mother. CANTO SECOND. J. Gi-eece. xrt V" ■'f'-fe'Oim.l.u Jove. °°'"' ■" NOTES ON CHILDE HAROLD's PILGRIMAGE. ii'6 XXII.— Gibraltar. xiv"xvvTY-?'^'^*'^*Sea. X will Th 'T.^''^'''"""" °" Solitude. XYfY — Voyage. ^J^-Y'\;;XLI-Lfnicadia and Sappho. tinouyrAltS."''' ^'''^'^^"' ^""^^^ *•'« «"lf "f Arnbracia: Journey LxTLSlV.-Kf ^ =,£« ^'^^'^^•^ "^ '^" P-"- '- People. SxieS;-Sr';^S:-^*'^e Albanians. Lxxrii,— Lxxvn. The Downfall and Degradation of Greece. 73. ?on 'rnVa'Jf-G;;; ';'";f' "'^" *^ ^•^^ ^''^"^ «^ -*'"-l unity. ance, brutality, ivranuv and „r^lA \a "^^ annoyances that icnor- Turkson the mu^-SVhl, Greeks.'" ^ '"^^"'*' ^"^« P'-*''"^'^'^ ^TZ. Whilome = fonnerly,— an arcluu'iH, tu t many archaisms, but as the , oet Xfl^ JJ •f.'"'}'''" P*""*" "* *^« P°em have " M.'.lf w » " ^ 7f 'P, '?>'■ ^"^-vs niofe blest ? Farfh I . i"* J'"«l> .'-Oiu- fathers bled. Earth! render b.ick from out thv breast ^ A ;'«n>"ant of c.r Sparta,, .ie.a.i ! Eurotas' banks. - This river flows past Sparta, the cuy of Leonidas 74. Byron obtained his first view oYAthen« ''"'' ^'"'^ ^^^y^® "'»t Carle.-Churl. A common rustic. In word,— See ' idly rail ' above. 84 NOTES ON OHILUE HAROLD's PILCiUIMAGBi. I 76. Gaul or Muscovite.— French or Russians. Shades of the Helots.— The Helots were a class of ancient Spartan slaves. The descendants of the old masters of tliese bondsmen liavc now thi'inselvea become slaves, and the shades of the old Helots ari' called ii[)>,.i to cnjo}- the revenge which time has brought them. Change thy lords. -The imperative is equivalent to a conditional clause. 77. The city.— Constantinoiilc. Won for Allah.-Won by the Mohammedans for Allah,— th of God. Arabic name Giaour.— An infidel. A contemptuous epitliet applied l)y tlie Turks to Christians. One of Byron's finest poems bears tlie title,—" The Giaour." Othman's race.— The Ottomans, or Turks, of whose dynasty Othman was the founder. Serai's impenetrable tower.— The Sultan's palace, or seraglio, which can- not be entered by ordinary mortals. The fiery Frank. -Tlie Latins, who held the city from 12.M to 1261 A.D. "Frank is used in 'lurkcy as a collective expression for all persons from Western Europe. It originated in the extensive use of the French lan"uuge throughout the ^gean in the 13th century subsequently to tiie capture of Constantinople by the Latins in 1204." Wahab's rebel brood.-" The Arab Sheikh Waliab was the founder of the sect of the VVahabees, the Puritans of M;ilioriietanism, who captured and sacked Mecca in 1803, and M.-dina in 1801." Mecca is noted as the birth-place of Mohammed, and Medina contains " the prophet's tomb." 'ious spoil.— The spoil won from the nations in the name of Allah. LXXVUI.— I The Carnival at Constantinople. 78. To shrive from man = to shrive man from. Joyaunce.— This and pleasaunce are archaisms from Spenser. Secret share.—' Secret' is explained by ' masking ' in the next line. Mimic train.— The costumes of the revellers imitated different characters. Carnival.-A personification of the feast or festal season which is cele- lirated with much merriment in Catholic countries, and especially in Venice and Bcme, during the week preceding Lent. 79. Whose more rife with=whose (days of joyaunce), or whose (carnival) more abounding in. ' Stamboul.— The Turkish name of Constantinople. Empress of their reign.— Cn,pital of the Greek empire. ' Their reign ' may, however, mean the reign of the ' days of joyaunce.' Sophia's shrine.— The famous mosque of St. Sophia, which was originalb a ^iiristiau church, erected b^ Justinian, ° ^ rtiiii slaves. thi'iiisclveH to ciijiiy the ual clause. Liahic name le Turks to 3 Giaour." 'thinan was which can- 1) 12(il A.D. ■rsous from •li language i capture of founder of o captured utcd aa the tonil)." llah. lue. charaoters. icli is cele- y in Veuico I (carnival) leir reign * s originally NOTES ON CHILDE HAROLD's PILGRIMAGE. 85 Greece her very altars, ptc— The QrefKs have lost even the liberty of wor8hi{)i)iiiji; in their ancient temples, and now look longingly towards them. Like all mosques, St. Sophia ii closed against Christian visitors except upon Rpccinl firman. As woo'd the eye, etc—' Eye ' refers back to ' sight,' and ' thrill'd ' to 'song,' — an example of what is called the cross-construction. Bosphorus.— This connects the Black Sea with the Sea of Marmora, joining tlie latter opposite Constantinople. 81. Caique,— A light boat common on the Bosphorus. Bound, etc.— When we are bound. Lxxxn. — LXXXIV. Will Greece rise again ? 82. Searment= cerement. The word is here used figuratively to denote a close covering for concealment. 83. Wield.— This word, which regnlar'y accompanies ' sword,' becomes keenly ironical when applied to ' sickle.' Byron frequently avails himself of this device. Compare in The Isles of Greece: " Leave battlfs to the Turkish hordes, And shed the blood of Scio's vine." Eecord.— The word is often pronounced with this accent in early writers, as in Chauc.)'. 84. Lacedemon's hardihood,— When Sparta's hardy sons arise again as under Leonidns. When Thebes Epaminondas rears again.— Epaminondas was a great Theban general and statesman. In tlie famous battle of Leuctra, ,'}71 B.C., he defeated the Spartans. In 302 B.C. he gained another brilliant victory over the same foe at Mantinea. ' Rears ' refers to tlie fact that Epaminon- das raised Thebes to the supremacy of Greece, which she lost immediately after his death. LXXXV. — XCIII. The Eternal Beauty and Sac7-ed Memories of Greece. 85. Thy vales, etc.— Byron says: "On many of the mountains the snow is never entirely melted; but 1 never saw it lie on the plains, even in winter.'' Nature's varied favorite,— In his History of Greece Curtius says : "Tliere is not on tiie entire known surface of the globe any other region in wlii('h the different zones of climate and flora meet one another in so rapid a succession." Fanes,— sanctuaries; temples, the grander edifices. 86. Brethren of the cave.— That is, they were dug from the same quarrv. Byron says: "From Mount Pentelicus the marble was dug that constructed the public edifices of Athens. An immense cave formed by the quarries still remains, and will till the end of time." 86 NOTES ON criILDE HAROLD's PILGRIMAGE. I i! !i 5 flJ ,n f ^ ?^"°«'-The ruins of the ancient tomple of Minerva on t i,j.n,niontory of Sun.iim or Cape Colonna (from the round columns Compare bumuni's marl.led steep " in The, Isles of Greece. '=°'"°^"«J- ddvin.""*'"""^" ^"^' *'°'°''' *' '° IV., 135,-" And o,dy not to desperation 87. Thine olive.- According to fable the goddess Minerva gave the olive to Hymettus -A mountain near Athens noted in ancient times for its bees Cmnpare Mik.m's -Flowery hill Hymettus, witli the sot.nd of bees^ incltistrious inurmur." Apollo. -The sun god. ab?ve.^*^''' marbleB.-Mendeli is the modern name of Pentelicus, mentioned 88. Muse's tales.— The tales of ancient poetry. Athena's tCwer.-The Parthenon. Age did much in the downfall of this Rlonous temple and man completed the ruin. Again nnd again in his poetry IJyron attacks Lord E gm for bringing the remains of Grecian art from the Parthenon to Eng and "The Curse of Minerva " in many a hurni "l Je brands Llgm for his alleged sacrilege. In tins very canto of Child" Har Id (11-15) tlie poet laments the fact that one of All.ion's sons -i^aiom "Tore down those remnants with a harpv's hand Which envious Eld forbore and tyrants left to stand." Oray Marathon.-On the plain of Maratlion was fought the celebrated battle betNvceii the Persians and the Athenians under Miltiades in 490 1 C The tumulus raised over the Athenians who fell in the battle is still to' be seen. Byr,.n tell us that the plain of Marathon was offered to him for sale wUh"n,I mor^'^ ^^ '^ exclaims, " was the dust of MilMades ' Gray ' is uii expressive epithet often used by the poets of anvthing that has venerable associations. •> c ., uuiug mai, 89. First bow'd, Greece? Hellas.- country. 90. Mede.-Here, as often in Latin poetry, a synonym for 'Persian.' Mountains above.-The plain is enclosed on tlnee sides by Parnes and Pentelicus. while the fourth side faces tlie sea. Cmi, nv in The 71^ > Greece: ■* '^ ".' "The niountaina look on ."ll uiiihon — And Mai-iUlion looks on tlie seu." Asia's tear,— The mourning of tlio Persians, Violated mound.— lixcavators had been recently at wf)rk seaii barrow for relics. 91. Ionian blast.— The wind from tlie Idninn sea, comiu" 'w did Childc H- nl/l from the west. " imiom Annals and immortal tongue. -The history and the language of Greece. -On what subsequent occasions was Persia defeated by -The name by which the inhabitants of Greece designated their hiiig ill tlie NOTES ON CIIILDK IIAROLD's PILGKIMaGE. 87 ihe olive to mentioued UUhe^K^a^^pf.-ff "'^''' or Minerva, the fjoddess of wisdom, unveils her lore (C79 abov;.) ^"''' ''"' *° "'^ ''^"^^' Notice the cr'o8s-conBtruct!o[. 92. ..S^e?;^t:^t;! S".o' '''""'^ "''' '•" ^^-^^ "f ^"^ "-^^'^ °f Apollo, the 93. «ptei;u''o7S'f artre^.^n'!^^ '"" ^"'''"^- *"-«* ^' ^-'d Elgin for his XCIV.— XCVIII. '^ Lament for Lost Friends, 94. Idlesse.— An archaic form = idIeness None are left to please.-None are left for me to desire to please. re&t ^ni^]:z:xi^Sr^:^ "^'"r.-^^ *" *■- p^-" written at Newstead i . "o ■ . be/ LS U 1^* ,fj^'r '"pk"^ '*''"'''^" ^^'^'•« this and the following year is lll^) Llmhlv vf /", -^''^^' 'V'""' »' Parker, and she mafhl th.! one ^^^:^^^::::^^''^^^^' written by Byron to his friend Dallas from Newst, 'a^A Z ' OotoI^Vfl h'' 1811, noutams some lines probably referrin-r to the .iJ,?!.' ^? f ^^"'' person: '' I have been agnin sh<,cked witl a ./. /; f, 1 f ^^'^ ^»'"^ f-.:;;,^:dt;iTC±r--:^^^ have no resource but my owr^r'fl^.ttL^'ndlle "p-^t^nt t'pr "."^rh ' ' or hereafter, except the selfish satisfaction of s„r^fvinrinv°,et ers T t""^ indeed very wretched, and you will excuse mv s«vi ,„ .0 II '"^" '^'*- \ ^m not apt to cant of sensibility." ^ ^ "^ ''°' '^^ y°" '^"o^^' I am In another of Byron's letters of this nprinrl ho oii„,i t xi ■. !StSi::ii!„r''^-' ^'-"- '-^ -- " SviS tt: XKLJtl;!^ by^S^SS'^j^KJ/S^Sff'^nr'^o^^ *° *'l^-th whom Byron says: " This makes the s,xth':;^'t]^i,P;!S tZ'h'^of f^l'^f '/ and relatives that I have lost between May and the "end < f Tm ^isf .- Th^ hddlestone IS the young man of whom Byron in 18U7 had said "T tamly love him more than any human being " ^ '^ ' ^ ''*''■'■ m Notes on childe hauold.s iiriOniMAGB, 96. The parent, friend, etc.— His motlior had died on Aii(,'U8t Ist, and liPBidew young Eddlestone he had lost tliree otlier friends of liis youth, Lonjf, Winj,'- field and Mattliews, and also the lady mentioned above who.se name the poet nowhere reveals. 97. That Peace, etc. — The things that do not tend to preserve peace of mind. False to the heart,— Not portraying the actual feelings. To leave, etc.— Only to leave. Still o'er, etc. — The punctuation of the latter part of this stanza is very doubtful. The present punctuation would lead us to interpret thus ; ' Still i.iK, despite wearint>ss) in tlie counteniince which they (Revel and Laughter) force to look cheerful, they (R. and L.) distort the cheek so as tf) feign,' etc. (3r ' still ' may mean ' ever. Some editions have [!] at the end of the fifth line, and [,] at the end of the seventh line : ' they ' will then refer to ' sniib^s.' With [!] at the end of tlie lifth line, and [;] at the end of the seventh, the passage will bear either of the preceding interpretations. 98. The ills of Eld.— The woes incident to old age. CANTO THIRD. T. — XVI. Ada : The Second Pilgrimage and the Experiences that led to it. ]. The poet goes back in thought to the time when he left England, and conceives of liimself as sleepiug on shipboard and dreaming of his daughter. My fair child.— His daughter was born on the 10th of Decemlier, 1810. Her name was Augusta Ada, the second l)eing an old family name. Lady Byron left her husband in the middle of Jiinuiuy when Ada was only five weeks old, and the j)oet never saw his daughter again. As this canto begins with an address to his daughter, so it ends: — " My dany:hter ! with thy name this sotit; Iwirun — My dau^rhtm- ! witli thy name thus much shall end — I see thee not, I hear thee not, but none Can be so wrapped in thee; thou art the fiieTid To whom the shadows of far years extend : Albeit my brow thou never should'st beliold, My voice shall with thy future visions blend, And reach into thy heart when mine is cold,-- A token and a tone, even from thy father's mon d. To aid thy mind's development, to watch Thy dawn of little joys, to sit and see Almost thy very irrowth, to view thee catch Knowledjje of objects, — wonders yet to thee I To hold thee lichtly on a gentle knee, And print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss,— This, it should seem, was not reserved for me ; Yet this was in my nature ;— as it is, I know not what is there, yet somethini; like to this. Yet, thonjjh dull hate as duty should be taught, T know th.it thou wilt love me ; thonirh my name Should be shut from thee, as a spell still fraught With desolation, and a broken claim : Though the grave closed between us, — 't were the same, ^ 11 Lce of mind. NOTES ON CHILDK HAUuLD's PlLGUIMAaB. 89 I know that thnit wilt love me ; thoiiKh to drain J/.V blood from out tli.v l.uJMjr weru an aim And an attaitiniunt,— all would bu in vain,— Still thou would'st love mo, still that inoro than life retain. The child of love, though born in bitterness. And nurtured in convulsion. Of thy siro These were the cloments, and thine no loss As .vft such are around thee, but thv (ire Shall be more tempered, and thy hope far hi^'her. Sweet be thy eradled slumbers ! Our the sea And from the mountains where I now respire y lun would I waft such blessing upon thee As, with a si-h, I deem thou init,ht'st have been to me !" I depart.-Byron left En(,'laud the Hecoud time on Ai)ril 2i5th, 1816. 2. Fluttering.~The original MS. has ' tattering." Strew the gale.-Be swept along in tatters on the gale. 3. Youth-s summer.-When he wrote the preceding cantos of Childe Harold on?:ute'j:.:;r;:Ly' "^ ^"-^^ ^-''> ^^--^P^-e of the Childe";TarfLnd rr^Xn?i^a;iLS.:dr£-sird?r^-^3-here 5. ^^Kercing the depths of life.-x-'athoming the mysteries of human experi- Below. —In this world, view below." The keen knife, etc.— The keen knife that must he . i.,.^^ • •. '^''■.uuh the suffering is acute. • '■^'^®^ ^^ silence Compare P.of C, iv.,-" Which he abhorr'd to filth. Lone caves.— The ideal world is meant. Yet "fe, etc.-' Yet ■ marks the opposition between ' lone ' and ' rife ' 6. 'Tis to create, etc.— It is in order that we may create anrl «r. i- ,■■ o greater intensity, that we invest our conceptions wTth realitv lilt,f '"' ideal life while imparting life to our fancies leality, living an Not so art thou, etc.-Thou art a living reality, creature of my fancy Thy birth.— Thy nature. ^ •' 7. Phantasy and flame.— 'Phantasy' is the earlier unH ,i.,^ * ^ ■, . 'Tis too late, etc.— Altliough it is too late to undo Htp ,>n -i * -^ ^ upon me must not be ignored. ° ^^'^''' >^' '*" effects 8. Something too much of this. From Hamlet, III. ii §9 90 NOTKS OX CHILDK nAlloMt'lS PILdRlMAOa ^ I I I The spell closes, (!tr.-The seal of Hilence is put upon ft subject of which " siiiiuiliiiiK too much " has been said. 9. A purer fount.-Tho love of nature and classical aiitiquity evoked and foftcrcd hv his travels, espcciallv in Grccc See h,.low : ' Wonder-workr, of God and Nature's hand." There is no reference here to his marrmKe. Pined although it spoke not.-Silently wasted him away. 'Pim-d' is here lran>ili ve Entering with every step-Like fetters chafing the ankles. 11. Curiously.— With close scrutiny. Within the vortex.-The vortex is regarded as driving ti ;ie before it in its heudlon- cunvnt. In III., '>■>, we have a similar "na«e - ' lo chase the plowing Hours with flying feet," where time is imiiellcd by the celerity of the dance. Fond.— Self-indulgent. Untaught to submit, etc'.— The passage is somewhat obscure. I* may mean; Although his springs (,f life had been poisoned beeanse he had not been taught in youth to tame liis heart (see 7 al)ove) altliough all the better feelin"s of his soul had been overmastned (quell'd) m youth by his own impedous and erring resolutions, he was still unwilling to I ike counsel (to submit his tlioughts to others), ho was still independent (uncompelled). A mutual langua^e.-A language intelligible to him. He and they were companions and und(.'rstood each otlier. Clearer than the tome, etc.— Clearer than what was found in the literature of his native l;ind. . , . , ., i i Tlie thought embodied in this stau/.a we tind in many places throughout the poem. Some of the most striking passages are these : " To 8it on rocks, to iimse o'er flnoil and frll, To slowlv trace ila' forest's sliadv ^iceIlc', Where thim;s that own not man's lioininion dwell, And mortal foot liath ne'er or rarely been : To eliml) the tricUless niountiiin all unseuii. With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o er steeps and foiimin';- falls to lean ;— ■ This is not solitude ; 'tis hut to hold ^^ Converse witli Nature's charms, and view hi^r stores unrolled. — (11., 2.^.) "Tome lli(,'h mountains are a feelinjj the soul can flee An(i with the sky, the peak, the heavini; plain Of ocean, or the stars, mingle, and not in \ ain. —nil., 7-2.^ " Arc not the mountains, wav cs, and skies ii part Of me and of mv soul, as I of them? Is not the love of these deep in my heart With a pure passion '.'" —(111., ~r>.) "There iri a pleasure in the pathless woods. There is a rapture on the lonely shore. There is society, where none intrudes, ^^ By the deep sea, and music in its roar :_ —(IV., 178.) NOTES ON OUILDE llAHOLD'a PJLGIUMAQK. 91 )ject of whicli ty evoked and Woiidei-workii in iiiarrirtKe. y. 'I'iiu'd' is IK! beforo it in " To cliiiHe the the celerity of scure. It may insfi he had not ;h all tho bettrr ith by his own ,:ike cdUnHcl (to L'onipi'llcd). ■ und they were in the litcratuic ices throuRhout ollcil." -(n., 2n.) 14. The Chaldean. -The Chaldoana were noted as astroloj^prH. The poet reluiMn to his adoration of tho Htam in III., US; " Vo stars, wliicli aru the (joutry of lumen ! If in your brJKlit loaves we would ruad Ihu fiite «K men iinii ini|iiies,— 'tisi to be fm-ixen, Tliut in our aM|iiriitloii3 to lie u'rcat Our destinies o'orleap our mortal .state, And rlaiii) a kindred with you ; for ve arc A l)eauty anil a myHtery, and creale In Us such love and reverence from afar That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star." IB. Self.exUed Harold. ^" These stanzas, (l-ir,)-i„ wide}, the author, adoptiny noro d.stin.. ly the .■hara,.ter of Childe Harold ti>an in tlie .,ri^;.„al .e m antoH I.. n.),assiKns tiie cause why he has resumed liis luli-riniV siafT vhe It was h-.ped ho had sat down for life a denizen of his nativv eom t-v- abound witli inueii moral interest and poetical l)eauty. 'J'he eonnnentarv throiiKh wh.eh the meaning of this melancholy tale is rendere.l obvious is still in vivni renu-mbrance; for the errors of those who t^xcel their follows m Kifts am aecomphsiiments are not so„n forgotten. Those scen..H ever mostpam ul to the Iwsom were rendered yet more bo by public discussion • ami It IS at least (.ossible that amongst those who exclaimed nu.st loudly on this unhappv o,...asion were some in wliose eyes literary siiperitfrity exaggi'i-atid Lord Byron's offence."— Sir Waltku Scott "oiiiy ab^imToS*^ wreok.-On the wreck of a vessel plundered by pirates and XVII. — \xvrii. Wtiterloo, 17. This stanza and the next were written at Brussels, after a visit to the belon .in Ao'a 'lad'"' '"'^""^ transcribed by Byron next morning in an album The reader, wiio is supposed to accompany the hero on his ioiirnev is battle ""'''■""^''' '''''•' Waterloo. A year had barely elapsed since tlie The student ah u.a read in this connection Byron's famous Ode t„ Ntipolron, tilW'a"^"' marked, etc.-The colossal " Lion of Waterloo " was noterected ^"FXl lTr*.'*"i^ " ^i'""'"' ^"estion over Marathon,-" What sacred trophy marks tlio hallowed ground."— (ir., 00.) ' •' The moral's truth.-That the battle is of little account in human history King.making Victory. -The European monarchs were now more firmly establislicd on tlieir thrones. •' 18. Pride of place-In a note Byron says: " Pride of place is a term of fal- conry, and means the highest pitch of flight." Tho original reading of tiie passage was : " Here his last fliifht the hauirhty easrle flew Then tore with hloody heak tlie fatarplain."' Hearing that a clever artist on seeing th-se lines had drawn nn eaelfl grasping the earth with his talons, and reinymbering that all birds of i.rey 99 NOTES ON CUILDR HAKOI.d's PILaiUMAOB. t! attack with their talons and not with their bealca, Byron made the nenefisary emendation. • "The eagle" in Napoleon, as is shown by "Ambition's life and labors" below. The last line of this stiinza and the first of the next would seem, liowaver, to identify Napoleon with the land for which he fought. 19. The patohed-up Idol.— There is here a probable reference to the Holy .\lliance, — a league formed after the fall of Nai)ol(;on by the sovereigns of Russia, Austria, and PrusHia, nominally to re^'uiate the relations of the states of Christendom by the principles c* Christian charity, but really to preserve the power and influence of the existing dyiniHtics. Most of ti.-i other European nations joined the alliance, but subHc(|Uently both France and England seceded from it. Tlio " banded nations " had thrown down the image of slavery in the |)erson of Napoleon, but they were now setting up its l)roken fragments in the shape of tlio alliance. Prove before ye praiBe.— Before praising Waterloo, discover of what value it has been to tlie world. 20. Europe's flowers long rooted up.— A striking metaphor describing the d«>solation caused during tiie years (' loi'g ') of the Napoleonic wars. Harmodius.— A young and bea- ^iful Athenian who, with his friend Aris- topeiton, killed Hipparchus, the tyrant (514 B.C.). The two selected for their purpose the day of the great festival of the Panatheneea, their daggers being concealed in the myrtle-branches which were always carried on the occasion of that festival. 21, The poet now passes to the description of the eve of Quatre-Bras, a battle fought on Jnne 16th, 1816, two days before Waterloo. A passage from Miss Marlineau's Introduction to the Hislori/ of Peace is worth (juoting here ; " It was on the evening of the 15th of June tliat Wellington received the news at Brussels of the whereabout of the French. He instantly perceived that the object was to separate his force from the Prussians. He sent oft orders to his troops in every direction to march upon Quatre-Bras. This done, he dressed and went to a ball, where no one would have discovered from his manner that he had heard any remarkable news. It was whispered about the rooms, however, that the French were not far off; and some oflBccrs dropped off in the course of the evening, — called bj their duty, and leaving heavy hearts behind them. Many parted so who never mot again. It was about midnight when the general officers were summoned. Some- what later, the younger officers were very quietly called away from their partners: and by sunrise of the summer morning of the 16th all were on their march." Voluptuous swell,—' Voluptuous ' has its original signification of ' full of pleasure.' 32. To chase the glowing Hours.— See note on 11. As if the clouds, etc — Like the rumblings of thunder. 23. Brunswick's fated chieftain.— The Duke of Brunswick was killed at Quatre-Bras as his father had been at Jena in 1806. ' Fated ' tells us that he was doomed to die. 26. Cumeroo's gathering.-Tho slogan of the Cameron clan. and labors" would socm, ht, to the Holy lovereiRiift of tiouH of the but really to Most of tij-i both France irowu down now setting f what value scribing the 'ars. friend Aris- selected. for heir daggers tried on the Jras, a battle ;e from Miss loting here: received the ily perceived He sent ofi Bras. This 3 discovered 18 whispered '; and some lir duty, and r met again, ned. Some- j from their I all were on on of ' full of as killed at tells us that NOTES ON CIIILDB HAHOLD's PlLORIMAfJE 93 Ml irV,. I)„,.Hl,l w^s a' V :..(: L , ''7"'i/. who auled the Pretender • u. niy.e« of the iii«hl:n:N:'''wi:o'hvi;i'f;r iiiiij^iv^""'"'--' ""^"^ Albyn. The Gaelic name of Scotland. Saxon foes.-The linKli^h. ..M >t ';™ir.'i.te,v'/,;;:s „i".',',;.^,;'?°"""' '»' ■ »" ■ ■»'"■»"«,; 28. Thunder-clouds.-Tho smoke of battle. XXIX.— XXXV. The Death of Howard and Reflections on Waterloo. 29. p.'.:*'- ThXfJ^o? C.^;roo:''^ ^^'"-^""^ '^ ««P--"^ *° Scott, brilliant Blend me with his line.-Make n,e a connexion of his Earfol ar. ''nZr^Zli^S^^ZF^^^^^^^^ T' V^« -" "^ the Hards and Scotch Reviewers." ^ aatinzed in the " EngliHh 80. inaigenfa.fJZn*r:tr^l^;^rnrc?:w'fe^^^ ^ '^"'S "^«^*!?«. ^^'^^ --^d from two tall and solitary trees uhi'ls and ^f^'" T'^*^ '^" ^*« »"' f"**- a pathways side. Beneath "these he died'anS w^sCl^d " " '"'' """' ''^ 31. One aa all.-One like every other, ».«.,all alike. .oSyaMS"'"'-'^'^'' '"* '^ *'^ '"°'« ^---' *«™. referring to For their sake.-For the sake of the dead 32. The roof-tree.-The beam supporting the roof Massy hoariness.-The beam is crusted with mould. 33. All without.-The external appearance. Such thingg.-The sorrows of the heart. 34. lon^tg ^r '^"P"'--^« i^ d^^P-^- bas the power of supporting and pro- d4 NOTES ON CIIILDK HAKOLD S PILGRIMAGE. A quick root.— 'Quick' has its original meaning of 'living,' Compare '((uiok and dead.' It were as nothing.— Death would i.ot be an evil. Like to the appleS) etc. — "The (fabled) apples on the brink of the lake Asjihaltes were said to be fair without, and within ashes." (Uy ion's luiU'.) The "apple of Sodom " is a kind of gall-nut growing ou dwarf o.'il- s. Count o'er such hours,— In the poet's " Euthanasia " we have a similar sentiment : " Count o'er tho joys thine hours h;r i' soon, Count o'er thy days from anguisli .e, And '..now, whatever thou hast been, 'Tis aomething better not to be." 35. The Fsalmist.- " The days of our years are three-score years and ten."— Ps. xc, 10. They are enough.— Seventy years is surely putting it high enough. If thv tale be true.—' Tale ' here seems to have its unusual signith-atiou of 'numbering': 'If thy enumeritiion be the true one'; 'If we are to number man's days as thou wouldst have us do.' To be sure, wo can get this meaning from the ordinary use of ' tale ' : 'If we can judge l)y what thou hast to tell us of the duvi+ion of life.' United nations.- England and Prussia against France. This is much.— The renown that the battle will have with posterity is much. 21XXVI. — XLU, Napoleon. The poet now engages in reflections on the fate of Napoleon. The student should compare Byron's estimate of Napoleon as contained in the " Ode to Napoleoii," written two years previously, with tho estimate of the hero in the present passage. The poet returns to the fate of Napoleon again in IV., 90-92: " The fool of false dominion -and a Ivind Of bastard CKsar, followinjj him of old With steps unequal—" 36. Whose spirit.— The construction of this clause limps; ' spirit' has no verb. Antithetically mixt.— Made up of opposing qualities. J Had'st thou been betwixt.— An odd expression meaning, if thou had'st followed a middle course. The Thunderer.- An allusion to a title of Jupiter, — " The Thunderer." 33. More or less.— At ona time more, at another time less. The loftiest star.— This language is peculiarly apt when used of Napoleon who was a Arm believer in his destiny or ' star.' 40. Just scorn.—' Just,' because he says below " 'twas wise to feel " it: it is the expression of the secern that the p.-^ot d.-prccatrs. Spurn the instruments.— It is well known that Napoleon wa» brutally rude to his subordinates NOTES ON OHILDE HAROLd's PILGRIMAGE. 95 41, tho poet is describing his own Not then.-Not while wearing tl,e purple of a ruler. betx\e..n Diogenes and Alexander thlr.w? i ^ famous interview comparison l^^^tween ■ V^i^^tZ ' L^ul'^'SnTogenrs. "^^"""''^ '''' *'^^ 42. This passage is intensely subjective; spirit iis well as Napoleon's xLiri. — xLv. flections 0)1 Ambition. ^^. All, unquiet things.-Men who a^'active forces in the production of Bigoted to strife.- Attached to strife with all the obstinacy of a bigot. solitary on account « the jIai,l^lvo?^t Situation L n-st, he is left crowned with glory an liistK'i »>« i*^ peril rage about him? "^ ''' ''" ^'''^' ''^« «to"'» of unrest ai^d 46. 47. The crannying wind.-Penetrating the crannies shSVrrbTtr.^;-^S;d •? ' '"■' ' •"'^"" ' "^^«'---.' - ^°es it refer to the Banners on high-Supply ' waved.' 48. In proud state upheld.~Mftintain.'d in grandeur Herc-s of a longer date.-TIu.se whose fame lasts lon-er .i^tma,^T''"'''" "^^^ "^'''^ ' ' ^^'''- ^^'^ °^ -«;; - ;r • a more e.ten- 49. And Love, which lent, etc.— A luiitht snm,.timo= i honor of his lady, some-device exS?nrw;ilJras"rb^^ 96 NOTES ON CHILDB HAROLD'S PILGRIMAQE. Through all the mail, etc. — Love was wont to penetrate even their hard nature 3. Their flame, etc.— Their love itself partook of their fierce nature. Destruction near allied.-Since destruction was nearly always the result of tlie contest. Fair mischief.— Mischief-making fair one. 50. Thy bright creation.— The fertile shores are regarded as the creation of tlie river. That it. should Lethe be.— That it should make me forget the past. 61. Olass'd.— Was reflected. We have the transitive use of the verb in xrn., 9, above. But o'er the blacken'd memory, ^tc— Although oblivion is everywhere at work, it is unable to blot out Harold's past. Here must be quoted the poet's beautiful adieu to the Rhine, stanzas 59-61 of this canto ; " Adieu to thee, fair Rhino I How long deliKhted The stranger fain would linger on his way I Thine is a scene alike Where aoula united Or lonely Contemplation thus might stay ; And could the ceaseless vultures cease to prey On self-condemning bosoms, it were here, Where Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay. Wild but not rude, awful yet not austere. Is to the mellow earth as autumn to the year. Adieu to thee again ! a v. in adieu I There can be no farewell to scene like thine ; The mind is colored by thy every hue. And if reluctantly the eyes resign Their cherished gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine, 'Tis with the thankful glance of parting praise : More mighty spots may rise— more glarin;.' shine, But none unite in one attaching maze The brilliant, fair, and soft,— the glories of old days. The negligently grand, the fruitful bloom Of coming ripeness, the white city's sheen. The rolling stream, the precipice's gloom. The forest's growth, and Gothic walls between. The wild rocks shaped as they had turrets been In mockery of man's art ; and these withal A race of faces happy as the scene, Whose fertile bounties here extend to all. Still springing o'er thy banks, though empires near them fall." 1 their hard OPINIONS, QUESTIONS, AND SELECTIONS. ClSlIon " *^ °^ *'''' statement as apphed to the "Prisofer of iJt'nV^' 'Prisoner of Chillon • is the only poem in which Byron is to'hielf??^'"" "'^''" ^'■"^^ ^^^^^^'^'^ «°°^« -«^«rence. direct or indirect, Comment on these statements. Explain this. d'Alembert (Sept. 7, 1776) ^ —Lettre du roi de Prusse d ^Translate the motto and show its bearing on the latter part of "Childe Apply this to Byron. ^' £;;kin\;hat is"'^e^ant"' ^^^^ °' *^" '^'^ "^'^"^^ ^^o is also European." . anS^voS"" "^' *^° ^'"^°* ^y^"'^^ interpenetrative blended in his life Develop this view. (9) "His writings do not reflect Nature in all its infinif. „i climate, scenery, and season. He i)ortrav,,rl JiTh t, • .'"""1*6 change of only such objects as weie adantid t„ fhf ^'''^.^"rprisiug truth and force The mountaii>,the Lrara'tS^ttcLYh^^^^^^^ coloring of his pencil, and melancholy.-seemed morrconSl to T '"--objects insj-iring awe those which led to joy or gratitude" Vo^t^o&l disposition than nof !^Th '' *'^ '^' "i'tT °^ ''^"^"" ""^"^ " Childe Harold." hiSlenSrhThl^^^^^^^ the range of those of the theatre and the tale, nothing g eater Jr more " "^^'^''^^ <«« Was Byron hke or unlike his poetic confempor^ie'S this respect? 98 OPINIONS, QUESTIONS, AND SELECTIONS. (11) "The splendid and imperishable excellence which covers all his offencoa and outweighs all his defects is the excellence of sincerity and Hlrenglh." Ajiply Swinburne's remark. (12) "Ryron often atTcctcd gloom and played with minanthropy, and his (loenis reflecting Iheso mooila an; all more or less in a falsetto tone." Discuss this statement witli respect to "Childe Harold." (13) "It is eiear tliat many of his verses could not have been written if he had really possessed a sensitive oar." liefer to passages which show this. (14) "He wanted both good taste and that critical discrimination which has so much to do witli personal dignity as well as with exc Uenco in art." "He liad little of the artist's love of form, and cared more for the thoughts ho desired to express than for the mould into which lie cast them." "No such great poet has had so narrow an imagination: he could not metamorphose himself into another." Examine the trutli of these strictures. (15) "As the result of all my reading and meditntion, I abstracted two critical aphorisms, deeming tiiem to comprise the conditions aiul criteria of I)oetic style ; first, that not the poem which wi' have read, but tliat to which we return with the greatest pleasure, possesses the genuine jxnver and claims of essential jKietry; secmul, that wliatever lines can be translat(>d into other words of the same language, without diminution of their signifi- cance, either in sense or association, or in any worthy feeling, are so far vicious in their diction." — Colcridijv. How does Byron stand these tests ? (lf>) " Scott had created the public taste for animated poetry, and Byron, taking advantage of it, soon engrossed the wliole field." Wiiiit poems of Scott's l.ad preceded "Oliildt^ Harold"? What effect had Byron's [lopularity on Scott's subseipient career? (17) "The two primary and essential qualities of poetry are imagination and harmony." — Swinburne. To what extent are these qualitio? found in Byron? J li CUILDK HAROLD. The following selections from Canto I. describe Childe Hai'oH and his departure on his jiilgrimage : — " Wtiilome in Albion's islo there dwelt a joiith, Who no in virtue's ways did tivkc deliffht. Hut spent his days in riot most luicoiith, And VHXed with mirth the drowsy ear of Mj;lit. Ah me ! in sooth ho was a shameless wiyht, Sore fjiven to revel and lui^odly jjloe." "Childe Harold was he hifjht :-but whence his namo And lineau'e lona:, it suits me not to say ; Sutlice it, that iierchance they were of fame, And had heen iflorious In another day : Hut one sad losel soils a name for aye, However miifhty in the olden time ; Nor all that heralds rako from coltined clay, Nor florid prose, nor honeyed lies of rhyme Can blazon evil deeds or consecrate a cihne." " For he thvou^h Sin's long i.ibyiinth had run, Nor made atonement when he did amis-;, Had sighed to many thou(,di he loved hut ono,, And that loved one, alas I could ne'er be his," i' OPINIONS, QUESTIONS, AND SELECTIONS. 99 m written if imagiuatiou nH and his And now Cliilde Ilarolil was scno xuk at heart And fmiM his follow Imci^lianiiLs wuiiM Hue • Tissaid at times tliu siillun tcNir wonlil start, iiut pridu cont^pali'd tli,' dioj) withifi his uc • Apart ho stalkod in jdvK^s rovorie And from his native land resolved to go And visit seurehin^ elinies lioyond the sea • VVitti ploas.iro drn-ncd, he almost longed for woo And eon tor change of scene would seek the shades' below." ''Chihio Harold had a mother— not forgot Ihoiigh parting from that mother ho did shun ■ A sister whom he loved, Init saw her not Before his weary pilgrimage begun : If friends he had, ho hade adieu to none Yet deein not thonee his I, least a breast of stoel • Yo, who have known what 'tis to dote upon A fow dear objects, «il| in sadness feel Sueh partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal. •'His liouse, his home, his heritage, his lands, Ihe laughing dames in whom ho did delight. A .''''! 'I'i''^'"'"""^''' "'I'' "^^L'ry costly wine And all that mote to luxury invite W itliout a sigh he left, to cross the' brine And traverse I'aynini shores, and pass Earth's central lino " OBKECE IN KUINH. " The Giaour," referred to iu a The following is the famous passaRe from note, page 87 :— "He who hath bent him o'er the dead Kro the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress (Before Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the linos where beauty lingers) And marked the mild angelic air The rai)ture of repose that's there. The fixed yet tender traits that streak The languor of tlie placid cheek, And— but for that sad shrouded eye, That fires not, wins not, weeps not now And but for that chill, changeless brow' Where cold Obstruction's apatiiy Ap^)als the gazing mourner's lieart, As if to him it could impart The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon • Yes, but for these and these alone ' Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour. He still might doubt the tyrant's power- So fair, so calm, so softly sealed, The first, last look by death revealed 1 Such is the aspect of this shore; Tis Greece, but living Greece no morel So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in death That parts notcpiito with parting breath' But beauty with that fearful bloom, ' That hue which haunts it to the tomb. Expression's last roeeding rav, A gilded halo hovering round decay, The farewell beam of feeling jiast away • Spark of that flame, perchance of heavenly birth Which gleams, but warms no more its cherished earth I" >. • > .11 f r «M I. J. ©age & oro.'g literature ^erie0 ADDISON SELECTIONS FROM ADDISON'S PAPERS CONTRIBUTED TO THE SPECTATOR EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES, AND CRITICAL CHAPTER BT F. H. SYKES, M.A. 0/ Parkdale Collegiate Imtitute, Toronto "Tf=^=5* TORONTO W. J. GAGE & COMPANY 1880 ) Kntorod [iccordinff to At't of i'lirliaiuuiit of Canadii, in tliu jear of our r.onl ii|;lii(H!i\ Imiuiivil ami ci^lity-iiiiit., I),v W. J. Caok & Co., in till' oltioo of tlic Minister of Ajfricultiiru. PREFATORY ISTOTE. aal^mtilof S'-' *i *■'•'"'* ^r^ l^"*^" '''f*^ ^^'t'"^"* annotation. The Urn it H ohv.ouH To .Icivc boneHt fion. the stu,ly of sty e It n ust ho pursuc.l .n a n.etho.lioal way an.l in an ii.ve.ti.^iti.iLr S t' «;=';;:.-;i\];;r'erpSi'Ls' '■■■ '"- ■"^■■■'- "' i-- ■'- '» diunois le t It. It has been felt that to nioilernize tiiu text vvn.iM mean to yne „p so.ne of the ,|„,unt eharn, of the essays and to To e ■rart.-rr t!sr i;s:-f £;:!s- ^SH The partial bibliography of A.hlison, it is hoped, will be helnful to those who -Icsn-e to study Ad.lison thoroughly. ^ ' Se!tirMr"\V,"'\l'" ::''''ti'''^l ^'';^Pt'^'' I'^^v'' l)e,.n submitted to Mr. J. htatii, Mr. \\ ni. Houston, and Professor MacMechan, whose favorabl, ont,cisni renders the editor less difli.lent in h.ping also ^tl ^a n 7 bationof h,s e low-teaehers. May the >,eu- edition be some Tn how"ltft '"• ""f 1 *'':! ^'•"''^"^* P'-'^^''"" «f ^o-nposition tea ,ing!i'- Toronto, July 6th, 1889. I } 'True ease In wrltinir comos from art, not chance." -Pope. .ty2-S!"' """" ""' '" ""'"'*'' '"" " '*'"""'"'^' """ 'he principle, of '•Whoev-er wishes to attain an English Btyle. fan>iliar. but not course, and ele'' ^"^ ^^'^ he applied owX Halifax he had sought in vain. Halifax sug..ested \ddiso i^'^ ■" '^"^Ject.-- Addison was found willin-^ to imde- teke the poem, and the Campaign was accordin<.ly wr tten It was not a great poem, b„t ia the excited state of^p u tffeelin! Its success was immediate. One passage in the poem ompt ^f w I I; H * INTRODUCTION. Jailer-""""'' *" *" ^""^^^ guiding the whirlwiml, was especially '.' ?o when an aiipel by divine command With risinjr tempests shakes a (luiot land, bneh as of late o'er pale Britannia past, Calm and serene he drives the furious blast ; And pleased th' Almighty's orders to perform, Kides in the whirlwind and directs the storm." The Whigs were jubilant. The author rose in the eyes of his contemporaries to a level with the greatest poets of our knguage. And "that angel, that good angel, flew off with a""' ells » ' "^'"'^ ^""^ '" *^'^ P'''''^ °^ Conunissioner of " Les lettres sont plus en honneur qu' ici," wrote Voltaire on earning the long list of official positions held during this age by Addison, Steele, Prior, Tickell, Congreve, and G^w. But ot all these none rose higher than Addison. The elections of 1705 were a victory for the Whigs. Somers and Montague were made members of the Council. Addison became under their patronage Under-Secretafy of State. Three years later he entered Parliament, and on the appointment of Lord Wharton as Lord Lieutenant to Ireland, he joined him as Chief Secretary. To relate the varying fortunes of the Whi.' party and the political life of Addison is beyond the scope ol the present sketch. Let it suffice to say that, aUvr a career of honour and integrity, he attained shortly before his death the position of Secretary of State, "a post, the highest Chatham or Jjox ever reached." The year in which Addison went to Ireland (1709) marks the beginning of an important era in the history of English hterature. It was the year of the foundation of Steele's Tatlcr To understand the importance of the Tatler we must review the then short history of English newspapers. T?v^t Pfintiiig.of news was begun in England in the reign of Elizabeth, but it was not till the reign of James that the news- paper was issued under a fixed title and at regular intervals. Ihe Weeld;/ News, m 1622, was our first real newspaper The press laboured under many difficulties, and none greater than the severity of government control. So far did this control go that after the Restoration all right of publishing news became the monopoly of the Crown. Ln 1861 the official paper, the London (^a^e^e, commenced publication under the immediate control of an Under-Secretary of State, a Gazetteer. But INTRODUCTION. - r.ice„si„g Act, a„;twrref„S'trr Sfi^r" "-^ Mice of the Posts, Reviews Int,in„ * , ""* appear- of "Grub street." Iron J the ill ""''' ""'' ^" ""^ "'^'"^ daily, the Oa.V, Co,™" (1 709) "™Wer» was the first t'^rtEcie-Lz^-if^'f^^^^ Paris. Even if the c;:ZC"colertot7th'''r' ""•■ to save the Publick at least h^lf fV,. t . the Compass News-papers," there wasTttle l^f Iniper inences of ordinary intellectual c^-avings of the "ge ^^ '"^ '^'"^ '° ^^"^^^^ *!'« anfsUlCss^-f^SoJ^:!. ^^Ihe ^'^'^^'^r *^^ ^^^-S but witty, n-Iodiour lia t Ue.S.e"\"t f'/'"? ^' '''^^^"' instructed, but to be amuled In To , i .1 ''°^ '^'^"^ ^° '^« to the coffee-houses, to it th .t t * ^ ^f ^^^ ^^'^^^^^'l country the squires and tb^?,/;' *,^ "'^ '^^'^^s. In the the newsdettrtrt "ave th n ti;.; cb' f^^^l^^^^ together to hear new world of readers°was ad i . . 1 u ^' ^''^'''''^- ^nd a land and where peonirmeM n^ '""^, ^'^' ^'^'^^^l^^ «f i^>'g- women, patron^ 'ofttoZe e^eTshJe"' Fo^" T^f -'"-"- osophy had to be brou^'^^^^ poem. And throu^dioutTt a^l ttf '"'aginative charm of a taste our ancestors C of .v,^^^^^^^^ i.^"'-^ f «tory, the Hrst l^een the n.o.st powerful of To 't? ^^^''^"•^'«'^"'« '-ovols, has Honeycomb. boLti, go hi co^;7,/;^";-^"^''^%, ^e follow \Vill of thirty years to hi^n.an age^^^tTn'" '^' ''"^"'"^ ''•'"- and see kindly Sir Eor., ,S f ^^. '*,'''' ^''"'"''•^ 'daughter, Westminster, on his fel-bt, "' '' ''^ '''''''' ^'^ ^-e, at io%lid;::^Ss;!i^'^t'r' ^" ^^^-^^^- "-- ^^ ^ and only end of the^'e specu " on " t ^'''V' "^''' S^'^^ vice and ignorance out of I.?.'- 'I '''"'^*^' " ^« to banish this he strove e^ett I'^d^^r rd^^':.? ^^^''^-^^T ^^-^ with political contest the Tnf/2 \ i o . ^' """'^^^ Seated and more inoffensive reflctk^^s Tl^ f "^''' '"^'^'^'^^^ ^^^^l^'' upon the conversation of t^^i1.^^^'f''''''•'^''' '^^^'^^ tlje gay to unite merriment h'ET'-'^.'Fl^ \''^ ^^i?^^^ ^^^ ^racaulay, "tau-dit that tho f.,-fi 7" Addison," writes Tillotson mi;ec^a#o>- him- Xn 1713 Addison reached the climnv nf i.je. ^ ^- , production of his tra-edv of r^/ i if' "P""*'^*'^'^ ^^ the «. and ... <^^i^^^j:^'%;i^'\::s4'z:^^i 8 INTRODUCTION. ^ V, make an unprecedented success. The following year he revived the Spectator, which, though containing some of his best pieces, lasted only four months. Two years later his "grand but dismal" union with the Lountess of Warwick was celebrated. In 1719, at the arre of torty-seyen, Joseph Addison was borne to the Abbey in Avhich he loved to meditate, to wait for " that great Day when we shall all ot us be Contemporaries and make our Appearance togetlier " buch IS the life and literary work of the greatest of the essayists. ® For his character, let his actions and the actions of his con- temporaries speak. When the Tories swept the country in the elections of 1710 Addison 8 election "passed easy and undisputed," wrote Swift' and I believe if he had a mind to be chosen king he would hardly be refused." When on the accession of George I. the lories were in disgrace and Swift "pelted in the streets of Dub- lin, Addison was the first to hold out his hand to him When Pope bitterly assailed him, he calmly praised Pope's tmnslation ot tlie Iliad. When he was on his death-bed, he asked pardon of Gay for an unknown offense, and called his dissolute step-son, Lord Warwick to him, that he might "see in what peace a Christian can die." " When he turns to Heaven," writes Thackeray of one whose character was so like his own, "a Sabbath comes over that man s mind, and his face lights up from it with a glory of thanks and prayer His sense of religion stirs through his whole being. In the helds, in the town: looking at the birds in the trees • at the children in the streets: in the morning or in the moon- light: over his books in his own room : in a happy party in a country merry-making or a town assembly, good will and peace to Gods creatures, and love and awe of Him who made them, till his pure heart and shine from his kind face. If Swift's life was the most wretched, I think Addison's was one of the most enviable. A life prosperous and beautiful— a calm death— an immense fame and affection afterwards for his happy and spot- less name. ' ^*^'' ^ (iVO ear he revived lis best pieces, ion with the at the age of bey in Avhich wlien we shall nee together." reatest of the ns of his con- ions of 1710, wrote Swift, :ing he would George I. the ;reets of Dub- him. When ?/s tmnslation dit of them is enough to make a Man serious, for we may lay it^down as a ^[axim, that When a Nation abounds in Physicians it "rows thin of People. Sir William Temple is ver/ much puzzfed to find a Reason why the Northern Hive, as he calls it, does not send out such prodigious Swarms, and over-run the World with Goths and Vattdals, as it did formerly ; but had that Excellent Author observed that there were no Students in Physick amon.r the Subjects of Thor and Wode?i, and that this Science very much flourishes in the North at present, he might have found a ESSAYS PROM THE SPECTATOR. 11 his Species of 'e more or less -I allow their e Fee which the Reader, 1 among the ' Hcarfs, and at the Bar. ly arise, they v tliciiiselves hall be Occa- mauy of the in to be the 3se Qualifica- iuler, than a tions, Eating lour of their irs, are those t in order to ■House more Assemblies, those Silent )(iors in the hose greater Pretence to of Physiek, lie Sight of lay it down Ills, it grows 1 puzzled to it, does not World with t Excellent sick among iience very ive found a use .otter Solution for this Difficulty, than any of those he has made r 1" A v! \. '''^^ ""^ ^^*'"' '" «•"• o^^'i Country, n.av be shyln CI ul,tr ^f ' ^""^'Z" ^"'^'' ^'•"- «oLof t'hen s -ly in Chariots, and some on Foot. If the Infantry do less K^xecution than tlie Charioteers, it is, because they cLnot be carried so soon into all Quarters of the Town, and dispatch Z much Business in so short a Time. Besides tin,.' Body of K ' d Loops there are Straggleivs. who, willu.ui In-iug duly lisfed a ;;;S£i^{ya;;ds'^^-^'^^^ '- '-- ^^*"^ -^ - -'^-^^ ^-' to Phvs';']-'''' 'f ^'^^'^f t'^« '^^^'^^f »i"ntioned, innumerable Retainers w tf th iifH ' 'n 7'"' "^ f''' ^''''''''' ■■""••■■^'^ themselves with the stifling of Cats in an Air Pump, culling up Do-^s alive scoSf 01,.; /r-"'^ upon the point 'of a Needle foi" mI:: ! ■scopical Observations; besides tho.se that are employed in the Sthe'r^o l7T'n' ""' f" ""''-•''' "^ ^'••tterflies:^X^t to met tion the Cockleshell-merchants and Spi.ler-catchers. •P',? I consider how each of these Professions are croudod with Multitudes that seek their Livelihood in t e, and 1 many Men of Ment theiv are in each of them, who ay rather said to be of the Science, than the Profession ; I ve v much wonder at the Humour of Parents, who will not rathi «;huse to place their Sons in a way of Life where au 1 Industry cannot but thrive, than in Stations where the ..'e e Probity, Learning .uid Good Sense may miscarry. How ma ' Men are Country-Curates, that might have made tiiem e v s Aldermen of Mou by a right Improvement of a smaller Sum of Mony than what is usually laid out upon a learned Kducatio A sober, frugal Person, of slender Parts and a slow App, Zi sioii, might have thrived in Trade, tho' he starves upon PI s c • as a Man would be well enough pleased to buy Silks of one whom he would not venture to feel his Pulse.^ Var,elii^\: oiiretul, studious and obliging, but withal a little thick-skuU'd • Cus ome" %f"e?7^^' '^"^ '"'^"'^ 1'-^" '-' abundance of Cu, toraei. The Misfortune is, that Parents take a LikinSister, who, before the Promotion of her Brother was in thosp mean Circumstances that Pa.,uin represen e 1^ As h os^tv 1 .1 ^•'''' '''^^'"'S "P*^» his Holinese's Gener- osity, as also on some private Overtures which he had received 14 ESSAYS FROM THE SPKCTATOH. from liiin, made the Uiscovory himsolf ; ui)on which the Pope j,'avn him llic Kcwaid hi; hud [nomisL-d, ])iit at tlie siiino time, to disable the Satyiist for tiie fiituie, onh-rcd liis Tongue to bo cut out, and botli hia ) iids to bo olioi»i)('d off. Ar'tine is too trite an iiistunco. Iweiy one knows tliat all the Kings of Europe w(;ie hi.s tributaries. Nay, there is a Letter of his extant, in winch lie makes his JJoast that he had laid the Sophi of Persia under C(jntiibution. Though in the various Exam])les which I have here drawn together, these several great Men behaved themselves very dill'crently towards tlie Wits of the Age who had reproacheJi them, they all of them plainly showi.'d ihut they wore very sensible of theii' R('[)roaches, and consecpiently that they received them as very great 1 njuries. For my own part, I would never trust a AFan that I tliought was capable of giving these secret Wounds, and cannot but think that he would hurt the Person, whose Keputation he thus assiltdts, in his Body or in his Fortune, could he do it with the same Security. There is indeed something very barliaious and inhuma)! in the ordinary Scriblera of Lam- poons. An Lmocent youi.;^ Lady shall bo exposed, for an unliappy Feature. A Father of a Family turned to Ridicule, for some domestick Calamity. A Wife be made uneasy all her Life, for a misinteriJKited Word or Action. Nay, a good, a temperate, and a just .Man, shall l)e put out of Countenance, by the Repre- sentation of those Qualities that should do him Honour. So liernicious a thing is Wit, when it is not tempered with Virtue and Humanity. I have indeed heard of heedless, inconsiderate Writers, that without any ]\lalice have sacrificed the Reputation of their Friends ami Ac(piaintance to a certain Levity of Tempm-, and a silly Ambition of distingui.shing themselves by a Spirit of Raillery and Satyr: As if it were not infinitely more honourable to be a (Jood-natured Man than a Wit. Wliere tlicre is this little petulant Humour in an Author, he is often very mischievous without designing to be so. For which l^.ason I always lay it down as a Rule, that an indiscreet Man is mon; hiu'tfid than an ill-natured one j for as the former will mdy attack his Fncmics, and those he^ wishes ill to, the other injincs indiil'crently botli Friends and Foes. I cannot forbcir, ii this oc(;asion, traiisorili- inga Fable out of Sir Jioger VEslmtii, 'tis Ihntli to IIS.' S..,tn"TI ^^n''' i\'",;\"';^"»^''' --^'t "I'^i'i and dedicated to M V '."""". ' \''"" ""'"'"" "'>'-^'-''^ •"•^•"^'' Speculations as Mi.iy n..t I.,, ailugether unsuitable to the Srasnn ; and in th.- mean Uin. as the settling in our selves a Charitabh, Kraiii.. of Mind IS a \ ork very pmp.,. f,,,. the Time, J hav., in this Paper ••■'d.'avoiired to expose that j rth.ilar Iheaoh of Chaiitv which as been generally over-looked by J)ivines. because they are but tew wiio can be guilty of it. q No. I'd FuiDAY, March 30, 1711. /'a//ula mors w.quo pulsat pede paiipn-inn (uherms /utjinii'/ue turff'.i, O lieale Sf-vf!, V if'f xiimma tmiuM sptm ,/o.s ,;/>,/ hir/ioair loiinam. '"im te premat iiox, fabulw,pie maiifx hi itoiniiH ciiUs P/utonia .— Hor. seiJ^'u'l'l''/'"' /' \m''""' ^!""'"'"'' ^ ^'"'T Often walk by my 1 1 IJ J. ///r «,s7.. Abbey ; where the (Moominess of the Places 'l; , ; ^''^^^•'"■'".'•^'^'^''iPl'Ii*^'', with the Solemnity of the to il 'l?: 7 ^'^h""^';^.^«•; ^l ^'-^ people who lye in it, are apt oil] the A lu.l with a kind of Melancholy, or rather Thoughi- iu n-s.s, that IS not disagreeable. 1 Yesterday pass'd a who!.. Afternoon ,n tjie Chureh-yard, the Cloysters, and the Church 'UuiLsmg myself with the Tomb-stones ami Inscriptions tlu.l I met with m those several Regions of the Dead. Most of then, >v...rded nothing else of the burie.l Person, but that he was born upon one Day and died upon another: The whole History of his l.itc', being eomprcdiende.! in those two Circumstances, that are ;;"".",on to all mankind. I could not but look upon thesl Registers of I.xistence, whether of Brass or Marble, as a kind of Sa .yr upon the d.'parted Persons; who had left no other Memorial 01 Liiem, hut that they were born and that thev died. They nut uie in mmd of several Persons mentioned in the Battles of Heroic oems, who have sounding Names given them, for no other ^S;;,^:: .!^!^^.;^^^ '-^ ^^ ^^^^ -^d are ^elebrateclt; nothing hut being knocked on the ifoad. T?iavKuv re, Meddvra Olaucurnque, Medontaque, TJiersUochum, -Hum, 'iue.— Virg. 16 R88AY8 PROM THE aPECTATOU. The Life of tlicsn Men is finely ilesciiljinl iii Holy Writ by ///'' /'((/// of an Arroii) which Ih ininindiiitcly (.'loscil up iiinl lo.st. Upon my K'>iii<,' into the ('iiiirch, I cntfitivinM my self with tht^ ip, the l''riiL,'nient of a I'one or Skull intcnnixt with a l,/rh, whom W3 are apt to despise for want of Genius, shew an mlinit.'ly greater Taste of Anti-iuity and Polite- ness in their IJuildings and Works uf this Nature, than what wo meet with in those of our own Country. The Monuments of their Admirals, which have been erected at the publick Kxpence represent them like themselves; and are adorned with rostral Lrovyns and naval Ornaments, with beautiful Festoons of fSea- weed], Shells, and Coral. '■ But to i^tiirn to our 8ul))ect. I have left the Repository of our English Kings for the Contemplation of another Day, when 1 shall find my Mind disposed for so serious an Amusement. I know that Kntertainments of this Nature, are apt to raise dark and dismal liiuiights in timorous Minds and glooiuy J magiiiations; but for my own Part, though I am always serious, I do not know wnat It IS to bo melancholy; and can, therefore, take a View of Nature m her dee[) and solemn Scenes, with the same Pleasure as in her most gay and delightful ones. By this Means, 1 ca'. improve my self vvith those Objects, which others consi,iful every inordinate Desire goes out; when I meet with the i.rief of Parents upon a Tombstone, my Heart melts with Compassion; wheii I see the Toml) of the Parents them- selves, I consider tiie Vai.l'y of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow: WIumi I see Kings Iving l>y those who • leposed them, when I consider rival Wits placed Side by Side or the holy Men that divi.led the Worhl with their Contests and J)isputes,_I reflect with Sorrow and Astonishment on the little Competitions, Factions and Debates of .Mankind. When I read the several Dates of the Tombs, of some that dy'd Yesterday ami sniiip «Iv liii.,.l..<.,l V,,.,.. T „-, : 1 ,1 . "^ . ,. . •'' ' i-'ars a' I consider that great Day wh we shall all of us be Contemporaries, and make our Ai Tf\tfni I I nt» * len together ppearance 18 ESSAYS FROM THE SPKCTATOU. :i if i No. 47.] Tuesday, April 24, 1711. Bide si scqns . — Mart. Mr. Hohhs, in his Discourse of Human Nature, whicl> in my liumble Opinion, is much the best of all iiis Works, after some very curious OV)servation3 upon Laughter, conchiilcs thus : 'The Passion of Laughter is nothing else liut sudden Glory 'arising from some sudden Conception of soiiu^ Kminency in 'ourselves by Comparison with the Infirmity of others, or witli ' our own formerly : For Men laugh at the Follies of themselves ' past, when they come suddenly to Remembrance, except they 'bring with them any present Dishonour.' According to this Author, therefore, when wo hear a Man laugh excessively, instead of saying he is very Merry, we ought to tell him he is very Proud. And, indeed, if we look into the bottom of this Matter, we shall meet with many Observations to contirm us in his Opinion. Every one laughs at some I?ody that is in an inferior State of Brolly to himself, it was foi'merly the Custom for every great House in EjKjIawl to keep a tame Fool dressed in Petticoats, that the Heir of the Family might have an Opportunity of joking upon him, a,nd diverting himself with his Absurdities. For the same Reason idiots are still in Request in most of the Courts of Germani/, where there is not a Prince of any great Magniticence, who has not two or three dressed, distinguished, undisputed Fools in his Retinue, whom the rest of the Courtiers are always breaking their Jests upon. The Dutch, who are more famous for their Industry and Application, than for Wit and Humour, hang up in several of their Streets what they call the Sign of the Ihipe.r, that is, tlie Head of an Idiot dressed in a Cap and Bells, and gaping in a most immoderate manner : This is a standing Jest at A itixfcvdaiu. Thus every one diverts himself with some P(M'son or other that is below him in Point of Understanding, and triumphs in the Superiority of his Genius, Avhilst he has such Objects of Derision before his Eyes. Mr. Dermis has very wc^ll expressed this in a Couple of liumourous Lines, which are part of a. Trans- lation of a Satire in INEonsieur Roileau. Tims one Fool lolls I'is Tongue out at nnothrr, And Kh(ike» his emjn A''oddle at his Jirnf/icr. Mr. Hohhs's Reflection gives us the Reason why the insig- nificaut People above-mentioned are Stirrers up of Laughter ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. 19 which ill my s, after some ■hiilcs thus : uldcn Glory Kniinency in lioi's, or with f themselves except they lieiir a Man ry, we ought ook into the Observations b some P>ody vas formerly keep a tame amily might ting himself s are still in there is not :wo or three tinue, whom Jests upon, idustry and in several of that is, the gaping in a Aiiisfi'rdaiii. ^on or other triumphs in 1 Ohjeots of !il expressed ; of a Trans- y the insig- }i Laughter among Men of a gross Taste : But as the more understanding Fart of Manknid do not find their Risibility affected by such ordmary Objects, it may be worth the while to examine into the several Provocatives of Laughter in Men of superior Sense and Knowledge. In the first Place I must observe, that there is a Set of merry Drolls, whom the common People of all Countries admire, and seem to love so well, that they could eat them, according to the old Proverb : I mean those circumforaneous Wits whom every Nation calls by the Name of that Dish of Meat which it loves best. In Holland they are termed PicMed Hevnngs ; in France, Jean Pottages ; in Italy, Maccanmies ; and in Great Britain, Jack Puddinys. Tliese merry Wags, from whatsoever Food they receive their Titles, that they may make their Audiences laugh, always appear in a Fool's Coat, and commit such Blunders and Mistakes in every Step they take, and every Word they utter, as those who listen to them would be ashamed of. But this little Triumph of the Understanding, under the Disguise of Laughter, is no where more visible than in that Custom which prevails every where among us on the first Day of the present Month, when every Body takes it in their Head to make as many Fools as they can. In proportion as there are more Follies discovered, so there is more laughter raised on this Day than on any other in the whole Year. A Neio-h- bour of mine, who is a Haberdasher by Trade, and a very shallow conceited Fellow, makes his Boasts that for these ten Years successively he has not made less than an luindred Ainil Fools. My Landlady had a falling out with him aljout a Fort- night ago, for sending every one of her Children upon some Sleeveless Errand, as she terms it. Her eldest Son went to buy an Half-penny worth of Inkle at a Shoemaker's ; the eldest Daughter was dispatch'd half a Mile to see a Monster; and in short, the whole Family of innocent Children made April Fools Nay, my Landlady herself did not escape him. This empty Fellow has laughed upon these Conceits ever since. This Art of Wit is well enough, when confined to one Day in a Twelvemonth ; but there is an ingenious Tribe of Men sprung up of late Years, who are for making April Fools every Day in the Year. Thftp.e Gentlemen are commonly distinguished by the Name of Biters; a Race of Men that are perpetually employed in laughing at those Mistakes which are of their own Production. 20 ESSAYS FllOM THE SPECTATOR. Thus we see, in proportion as one Man is more refined than another, he chooses his Fool out of a lower or higher Class of Mankind : or, to speak in a more Philosophical Language, That secret Elation and Pride of Heart, which is generally called Laughter, arises in hira from his comparing himself with an Object below him, wliether it so happens that it be a Natural or an Artificial Fool. It is indeed very possible, that the Persons we laugh at may in the main of their Characters be much wiser men than ourselves ; but if they would have us laugh at them, they must fall short of us in those Respects which stir up this Passion. I am afraid I shall appear too Abstracted in my Specula- tions, if I shew that when a Man of Wit makes us laugh, it is by betraying some Oddness or Infirmity in his own Character, or in the Representation which he makes of others ; arid that when we laugh at a Brqte or even [at] an inanimate thing, it is at some Action or Incident that bears a remote Analogy to any Blunder or Absurdity in reasonable Creatures. But to come into common Life ; I shall pass by the Consid- eration of those Stage Coxcombs that are able to shake a whole Audience, and take notice of a particular sort of Men who are such Provokers of Mirth in Conversation, that it is aipossible for a Club or Merry-meeting to subsist without them ; 1 mean, those honest Gentlemen that are always exposed to the Wit and Raillery of their Well-wishers and Companions ; that are pelted by Men, Women, and Children, Friends and Foes, and, in a word, stand as Butts in Conversation, for every one to shoot at that pleases. I know several of these Butts, who are Men of Wit and Sense, though by some odd Turn of Humour, some unlucky Cast in their Person or Behaviour, they have always the Misfortune to make the Company merry. The Truth of it is, a Man is not qualified for a Butt, who has not a good deal of Wit and Vivacity, even in the ridiculous side of his Character. A stupid Butt is only fit for the Conversation of ordinary People: Men of Wit require one that will give them Play, and bestir himself in the absurd Part of his Behaviour. A Butt with these Accomplishments frequently gets the Lau^h of his side, and turns the Ridicule upon him that attacks him. Sir John Falftajf \vi\s an Hero of this Species, and gives a good Description of himself in his Capacity of a Butt, after the following manner; Men 0/ all iSorts (says that merry Knight) Essays from the spectator. 21 sfined than er Class of Language, i generally niself with > a Natural s, that the -racters be d have us i Respects y Specula- augh, it is Character, arid that e thing, it Analogy to he Consid- ce a whole n who are mpossible ; 1 mean, o the Wit ; that are Foes, and, ry one to f, who are Humour, bhey have rry. The has not a us side of iversation give them Jehaviour. ;he Laugh acks him, -X'S a good after the Y Knight) take a pride to rjinl at me. The Brain of Man is not able to Xo. 50.] Friday, April 27, ITIL Nunqunm aliud Natura, nlhul SapmiUa rfmV.-Juv. When the four Indian Kings were in this Country about a vvelvemon h ago, I often mixed with the K.bble, and' followed them a whole lay together, being wonderfully st uck with The >S,ght of every thing that is new or unco.nmo... I have, since heir Departure employed a Friend to make many In.u.iriesof U,e Landlord the Upholsterer, relating to their Maniei'm Conversation as also concerning the Remarks which they made m thts Country : For, next to the forming a ri^ht Notion of such Strangers I should be desirous of learning wha Idet th^y have conceived of us. ^ the^e hiYT of ^''' 1 ^''^i'l^ -"^ ^''''"-^ ""^'y inquisitive about these his Lodg:ers, brought him some time since a little Bundle ot Papers, which he assured him were written by King Sa Ga Yean Qua Eash Tow, and as he supposes, left behind by some Mistake. These Papers are now translated, and contain abund- ance of very odd Observations, which I find this little Fraternitv of Kings made during their Stay in the Isle of Great Britain. I shall present my Reader with a short Specimen of them in this aper, and may perhaps communicate more to him hereafter In the Article of London are the following Words, which with- out doubt are meant of the Church of St Paul '()n the most rising Part of the Town there .stands a lui-e House, big enough to contain the whole Nation of which I am King. Our goo.l Brother E Toiv Koam, King of the River, ^ IS of opinion it was made by the Han ; but as I am not versed in the Mo.lern CojM,onr Conferences go no further than a Bow and a (Jrimace. ihis grand Scene of Business gives me an infinite Variety of solid and substantial Entertainments. As I am a great Lover of Mankind, my Heart naturally overflows with Pleasure at the sight of a prosperous and happy Multitude, insomuch that at many pubhck holemnities I cannot forl^ear expressing my Joy with lears tliat have stolen down my Cheeks. For this R.ason 1 am wonderfully delighted to see such a IJody of Men tlirivin- HI their own private Fortunes, and at the same time proinotin" the Pubhck Slock ; or in other Words, raising Estates f.n- their own families, by bringing into their Country whatever is wantin-r and carrying out of it whatever is superfluous "' Nature seems to have taken a particular Care to disseminate her Blessings among the diflferent Regions of the World with an Eye to this mutual Intercourse and Trallick anion- 'Man- kind, that the Natives of the several Parts of the Globe micdit have a kind of Dependance upon one another, and be nnited together by their common Interest. Almost every JMnre pro duces something peculiar to it. The Food often grows in one Country, and the Sauce in another. The Fruits of Portuml are corrected by the Products of BarhadoPH : The Infusion of a Chiua Plant sweetned with a Pith of an Indian Cane The JJnhpinrk Islands give a Flavour to our European Bowls The single Di-ess of a Woman of Quality is often the Product of a hundred Climates. The Mufl'and the Fan come together from tlie different Ends of tha Earth. The Scarf is sent from the iorrid Zone, and the Tippet from l)eneath the Pole The Brocade Petticoat rises out of the Mines of Peru, ^nd the 4;iamond Necklace out of the Bowels of Indost^n 26 ESSAYS FROM THE 8PE0TAT0R, If we consider our own Country in its natural Prospect, witliout any of the Benefits and Advanta^^es of Conimorce wiiat a barren unoomfortal.l," Spot of Eartli falls to our Share' Natural Historians tell us, that no Fruit ^'rows Oriy were wholly neglected by the Planter, and left to the Mercy of our Sun and Soil. Nor has Trailick more enriched our Vegetable World, than it has improved the whole Face of Nature'among us. Our Ships are laden with tin; Harvest of every Climate^ Our Tal)les are stored with Spices, and Oils, and Wines- Our Rooms are filled with Pyramids of 0/>nia, and adorned with the Workmanship of Japan: Our IMorning's Draught comes to us from the remotest Corners of the Earth: We repair our Bodies by the Drugs of Ajuprica, and repose oui-selves under ImhaJt Canopies. My Friend Sir Andrew calls the Vineyards of France our Gardens; the Spice-lslands our Hot-beds- the Persians our Silk-Weavers, and the Chii/e.^r our Potters Nature indeed furnishes us with the bare Necessaries of Life but Traffick gives us greater Variety of what is Useful, and at the same time supplies us with everything that is Convenient and Ornamental. Nor is it the least Part of this our Happiness, that whilst we enjoy the remotest Products of the North and South, we are free from those Extremities of Weather fwhich'^] give them Birth ; That our Eyes are refreshed with the green Fields of Britain, at the same time that our Palates are feasted with Fruits that rise between the Tropicks. Eor these Reasons there are no more useful Members in a Commonwealth than Merchants. They knit IVIankind together in a mutual Intercourse of Good Offices, distribute the Gifts of Nature, find Work for the Poor, add Wealth to the Rich and Magnihcence to the Great. Our Unglinh Merchant converts the Tin of bis own Country into Gold, and Exchanges his Wool for Rubies. The Mahometans are clothed in our British Manu l(Uiwe Fruits, in their present State, as well as our] i[that] i ESSAYa FROM THE SPECTATOR. •♦ Ihf i^s.r'oJt/s!;::;;^"^^ -' ''- ^--" ^-« -^^d with ono^or'our o|7k'"'" T\'^'''' '^^'^"^''' ^ ^'^^« ^^^en fancied of Peon" i7;'h . ;r^'''f.;'•^^''^ "t^"*^ ^^^^ ^^'-''^'t'"- concourse I xt.( j)H, uiui Winch that Place is evorv Dw tPr/.,! t. *i • infinitely .noro V ual 1, tt, ! ' "''•^^%«'"- L-'"J^'l Estates 0. No. 93.] Sat'Jrday, Junk 16, 1711. -SiHtlio lirevi .Spem lomiam resects: dum loquimur, fuqerit invidn. -Hor. We all of us complain of the Shortness of TiniP .aiH. y and yet have n.uch naore than we know wit rdrwhS Lives, says he, are spent either in doiuij nothinrarn ' . doing nothing to the Puruose or in .1 . °^"^"= ^^ ^11, or in Philosopher has described our InconXtencv wTh \ ""^^ this Particiilnr Iw all +1 ^'i^on.sisteiicy with our selves in urns jraincu ar, by all those various Turns of Expression anH Thought which are peculiar to his Writin-s "^''P'^^'''"^ ^^^ in a PdntTlnTl"' ^^^^^"^^'"^^ ^ -^^^"y inconsistent with itself in a roint tiiat bears some Affinity to flip fnrr»^>. rp. , seem grieved at the Shortness of Life n iZal ^^""»^T" ing every Period of it at an end. t1 S^ L^s T b'^'^- Age. then to be a Man of Business, then to make up^L Estte wirorrTf: t ^^^:^^ - -^-- Tifu?aKu?hn£ Divisions of i; apptTongrdSirs."^Va\r^^^^^^^ mg our Span in general, but would fain cl'r::: tVplto^f 28 ESSAY8 FROM THE SPECTATOR. iii wliich it .3 C!omposod. Tho Usurer would bo very well satisfied to have all tlw. Time annihilated that lies between tho present Moment and tho next (Quarter-day. The Politician would J)e content to lose three Years in his Life, could lie place things in the Posture which he fancies they will stand in after such a Revolution of Time. The Lover would be glad to strike out of his Existence all the Moments that are to pnss away before the happy Meeting. Thus, as fast as our Time runs, wo should be very glad in most Puts of our Lives that it ran much faster than it does. Several liours of the Pay hang upon our Hands, nay wo wi.sh away whuie Years: and travel through Time as through a Country filled with many wild and empty Waste.s, which we would fain hurry over, that we may arrive at those sev(M'al little Settlements or imaginary Points of Rest which are dispersed up and down in it. Tf we divide tlie Life of most Men into twenty Parts, we shall find that at h-ast nineteen of them are nieer Gaps and Chasms, which arc neither filled with Pleasure nor Business. I do not however include in this Calculation the Life of those Men who are in a perpetual Hurry of Affairs, but of those only who are not always engaged in Scenes of Action ; and 1 liope I shall not do an unacceptable Piece of Service to these Persons, if I point ouv to them certain Methods for the filling up their empty Spaces of Life. The Methods I shall propose to them are as follow. The first is the Exercise of Vir^^ue, in the most general Acceptation of the Word. That particular Scheme which com- prehends the Social Virtues, may give Employment to the most industrious Temper, and find a Man in Business more than the most active Station of Life. To advise the Ignorant, relieve the Needy, comfort the Afflicted, are Duties that fall in our way almost every Day of our Lives. A ]\Ian has frequent Opportunities of mitigating the Fierceness of a Party ; of doing Justico to the Character of a deserving IVIan ; of softeninc the Envious, quieting the Angry, and rectifying the Prejudiced ; which are all of them Employments suited to a reasonable Nature, and bring great Satisfaction to the Person who oan busy himself in them with Discretion. There is another kind of Virtue that may find Emi^lovment for those Retired Hours in which we are altogether left to our selves, and destitute of Company and Conversation ; I mean m ESSAYS FROM THE SPECT VTOR. 29 [• left to our tlmt Tutoroourso iiiiu timso of otiier Men are the most unactive : Tfe no sooner steps out of the Workl hi.t hin Jleart hnrns vvitii Devotion, swells witli Hope, and triumphs in the Consciousness of that I reseneo which every where surrounds him ; or, on the contrary, pours out Its Fears, Its Sorrows, its Apprehensions, to the great Supportul.les upon us, for putting in Practice this Method of pass- nig away our Time. ' When a IMan has hut a little Stock to improve, and l^as opp(.rtuni(i,.s of turning it all to good Account, what shall we thnik of him if he sutlers nineteen Parts of it to lie dead and p(Mliaps employs even the twentieth to his Ruin or Disad- yiuitag,.? IJut because the Mind cannot he always in its I'ervours, nor strained up to a Pitch of Virtue, it is necessary to find out proper Employments for it in its Relaxations The n.'xt ]\rethod therefore that I would propose to fill up our i nne, should he useful and innocent Diversions I must (onfess 1 think it is below reasonable Creatures to be altogether le Kind, taiidard of the same with our 3 it makea u" Manner as it sets lishos him Jhaiactors. upon this et 1 entertain Character, aised upon r; C. aSSATS PROM THE flPEOTATOB. i\ No. 169.] Thursday, Sept. 13, 1711. Sic vita erat : facile omnea per/erre ac pati : Cum ijuihn. erat cuuqiw una, his se.ie deUere, horum ohmini sftidiia: advor.nis nemini ; ^utiqiia III pra-iionens se aliis : Ita facillime Ame tnvidia invenias laudern.— Tor. And. Man is subject to innumerable Pains and Sorrows by the very Condition of Humanity, and yet, as if Nature had not sown hvils enou<;li m Life, we are continually addin- Grief to Grief ami a-ravatin^^ the common Calamity by our cruel Treatment oi one another. Every xMan's natural Weight of Afflictions is still made more heavy by the Envy, Malice, Treachery, or Injustice of his Neighl)our. At the same time that the Storm another^"" ^^ Species, we are falling foul upon one Half the Misery of Human Life might be extinguished, would Men alleviate the general Curse they lie under, by mutual Offices of Compassion Benevolence, and Humanity. There is nothing therefore which we ought more to encourage in ourselves and <.thers, than that Dis])osition of Mind which in our Lanf it wliere lore it does iippy Con- uce. whom lie ratini;,' the tell us he ernarkable be several 3es him a& '] made it, [ill things, ^'or which irine it in i Life was , such an into the ith great and Cato Cccsar's ed it self Servants or Cato's :'ms most Man. . A U'd every i Actions 00 mild, lonstrous 3r indeed iper ill a s in tho 1 only in Dmmerce ations of M8AT8 FROM THE 8PE0TAT0B. 48 mv„ „,„v,.,s,»l with „r. Men e,„i„..„t f„r Ihcir Hm, Litv I t 'S^w' d,,n '^T" T' ,P'™""" Companion. ;;!,«; i'"ii.i 2p;ll;H:^Lrnr;;fz;;t.w^ A»...n,.n,.vn.,iatin«ni,hurgb.t«e^';:,l^^ n, vM viii r "J"""'"™/ «, perhaps, because l.e is apt to be w A „, ,1 C-ii'Passioi, for lliose Misfortunes of Inf irniitie" e,na, tarts, ^ive^hltlf ?L^ "'i'Sd't 'Sp Ji'^f '"."L' " , ' , °""' '""«'"' "' ^'«' >'liicli tl.o other eilbor cvcnses 0, n.ncoa .,B,vos nttemnce to E,.fl,.„ti„„, „hie,, the ol,er stifle, u': thai;;;'?:™;:'" "' ''"""''■ '^ "'"« "^»'/'" «»» s No. 195.] Saturday, Octouer 13, 1711. ^fmot, ovd' laamv bc

tlitui liiinsclf triiiiients, ory ^roos, to Wood, thiit they us li(i liad i Kil?ropsie.s beavers and Lethargies, with other innumerable Di ' tempers lying in Ambuscado. among the Dishes Nature delights in the most plain and simple Diet. Everv Aninial, but Man, keeps to one Dish. Herbs are the Food of tins Species, hsli of that, and Flesh of a Third. Man falls upon every thing that comes in his Way, not the smallest Frui o escafTldm' ' """'"" " ''""^ '^ ' ^I^^hroom, can It is inipossible to lay down any determinate Rule for Tem- ^noTher'- bnT'tl '' '%^''''V' \" ""^ "^'^^ ^"^ Temperance in a othei , but there are few that have lived any time in the World, who ar,. not Judges of their own Constitutions, so far as to know what Kinds and what Proportions of Food do best agree with them. Were I to consider my Readers as my Patients and o pi.scribe such a kind of Tempe-Lnce as is accomnSed fnd Wxvt^"?'- T "'/i I^="'^'''^"1'^'-1.V «"il^^We to our Climate an Way of Living, I would copy the following Rules of a very eminent Physician. Make your whole Repast out of one Dish If you indulge m a second, avoid Drinking any thin- Strom?' ti 1 vou havp fini'dind vf^nv \f ^oi . r ^n t' ■ ""'"o i^trong, ■ I - , ju Hd.e nn...aoa 3,0m Meal ; [af] tne sa me lime abstain from 1 [and at] i6 ESSAYS PROM THE SPBOTATOR. ill Sauces, or at least such as are not the most plain and simple. A Man could not be well guilty of Gluttony, if ho stu.k to those few obvious and easy Kules. In the first Case there would be uu Variety of Tastes to sollicit his Palate, and occasion IX-cess • uor m the second any artificial Provocatives to relieve Satietv' ami create a False Appetite. Were I to proscribe a Kulo f,,; rinkn.jrit should be formM upon a Saying quoted by Sir II i/ham remple; The first GIom fur nu/,el/, tlw mumd for „n, hneivh, the third far good Hnmour, and the fourth for vdm w""/f'!" ,1* u '"'"f.^ '* '' impossible for one who liv"es in the \V orld to diet himself always in so Philosophical a niaunor, I think every Man should have his Day of Al)stinence, acconlin- as his Constitution will permit. These are Rreat Reliefs to Nature, as they qual.he her for stru-ling with Hunger and Thirst, whenever any Distemper or Duty of Life may put her upon such Difficulties J and at the same time give her an Oppor- tunity of extiicating her self from her Oppressions, and recovorin" the several Tories and Springs of her distended Vessels. Besides tha Abstmence well timed often kills a Sickness in Embryo, and destroys the first Seeds of an Indisposition. It is observed bv two or three Ancient Authors, that Socrates, notwithstan.lin" lie lived in Athens during the great Plague, which has ma Doatlis lUit the most remarkable Instance of the Kllioacy „f Temporanco towards the procuring of long [.ife, is what wo meet will, in a ittle Look published by LewU Cornam \\u> Venetian: which I the rather niention, because it is of undonbtod ( Vo.Iit. as the late Vei.ptian Ambassador, wlio was of the same Family, attested and simple. i(;k to these •0 would be on lOxcess ; vc! 8ati(!ty, a Kulo for tod liy Sir nitl for vnj h for iniiia lives in the niaiinor, I , according Reliefs to tinger and ay put her ' an Oppor- recovering Is. Besides nbryo, and worvcd by .Hiding lie s made so it different ng that he viiv caught ascribe to vcd. ch I have •hers, and 'on of the ,'r(!iit Part l».sl('tniou3 )pher aii(l find that IkmI Mian ths. 15ut Miporancc with in a which I s the latfi attested ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR 47 more than once in Conversation, when he resided in Enalan / Cornaro, who was the Author of the liftl« T.TT \ ^''"'^^"'' tioninB wa, „, an !„«„„ Co" Mt.'li™ ' J ' j', Z:^^ ol«tn,ate y persisting i„ „„ exact Course o^ TemJiwe \l and after having passed his hundredth Year, .lie.l w tl pVi ! wr,tlen with such „ Spirit o'f CI-e'linZ^E* '„ "Sd lod sSt; TLXtrs'tifeTSt tJ^—^ mendation than a Discredit to it *' ^''''"'- ..e^Tartn^-e^ t,Xo^f i't' ."raM--, No. 225.] Saturday, I^ovember 17, 1711. NuUum numen abest si sit Pruden/ia.~Jnv. I have often thought if the Minds of Men were laid nnp,, we should see but little Difference between that of t le wt M ! and that of the Fool. There are infinite /e^.v-^Vsnun berl^ Extravagancies and a perpetual Train of Vanitie wh eh nts hrough bo h. The great Difference is that the first k ow how to pick and cull his Thoughts for Conversation, by suZes 3 some, and communicating others; whereas the other hfts the ? all indifferently fly out in Words. This sort of Disc ret o FSr^ri^ch o" P"-^^,^— ^ion between i^l-S rriends. Un such Occasions the wisest Men very often talk like the weakest; for indeed the Talking with a Friend i. nothing else but ^/mhA-% a/owf?. i<^n a j^nend is miy has therefore very justly exposed a Preceot deliverpd by some Ancient Writers, That a Man should Tve w h ht Enemy m such a manner, as might leave him room to become l;i!jj;;fjCel^^-' f fr^-\^-^^ - -nner, that i?"" ■.,_.m. . 111. Ji^nemy, ic should iio U^emJiis_Pnwp^^^^ ^^^^ i[TheSim Way] ^ ' 48 lilSSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. n K The first Part of this Rule, which regards our Behaviour towards an Enemy, is indeed very reasonable, as well as very prudential; but the latter Part of it which regards our Behaviour towards a Friend, savours more of Cunning than of Discretion, and would cut a Man off from the greatest Pleasures of Life, whicli are the Freedoms of Conversation with a Bosom Friend. Besides, that when a Friend is turned into an Enemy, and (as the Son of Sirach calls him) a Bewrayer of Secrets, the World is just enough to accuse the Perlidiousness of the Friend, rather than the Indiscretion of the Person who confided in liitii. Discretion does not only shew it self in Words, but in all the Ciicumstances of Action; and is like an Under-Agent of Providence, to guide and direct us in the ordinary Concerns of Life. There are many more shining Qualities in the Mind of Man, but there is none so useful as Discretion ; it is this indeed which gives a Value to all the rest, which sets them at work in their proper Times and Places, and turns them to the Advantage of the Person who is possessed of them. Without it Learning is Pedantry, and Wit Impertinence ; Virtue itself looks like Weakness ; the best Parts only qualify a Man to be more sprightly in Errors, and active to his own Prejudice. Nor does Discretion only make a Man the Master of his own Parts, but of other Mens. The discreet Man finds out the Talents of those he Converses with, and knows how to apply tliem to proper Uses. Accordingly if we look into particular Communities and Divisions of Men, we may observe that it is the discreet Man, not the Witty, nor the Learned, nor the Brave, who guides the Conversation, and gives measures to the Society. A Man with great Talents, but void of Discretion, is like Polyphemus in the Fable. Strong and Blind, endued with an irresistible Force, which for want of Sight is of no Use to him. Though a Man has all other Perfections, and wants Discre- tion, he will be of no great Consequence in the World ; but if he lias this single Talent in Perfection, and but a common Share of others, lie may do what he pleases in his particular Station of Life. At the same time that I think Discretion the most useful Talent a Man can be Master of, I look upon Cunning to be the Accomplishment of little, mean, ungenerous Minds. Discretion I r towards rudential; V towards jtion, and life, which 1 Friend. y, and (as he World lid, rather liiiu. but in all -Agent of Concerns i of Man, lis indeed 1 at work m to the k'^ithotit it tue itself dan to be I dice. if his own 3 out the ' to apply particular that it is , nor the res to the .•retion, is lued with if no Use ;s Discre- d ; but if , common aarticular )st useful to be tiie .)iscretiou BSSAYS PROM THE SPKOTATOIt. 49 points out the noblest Ends to us, and pursues the most proper and laudable Methods of attaining then, : Cunnin.^ has onW C:S"^S s^lSrf 'T ''' "f "'« ^^^"^^^ ^'^^ ^^^ succeed. r>isc;ietion has large and extended Views, and like a wel-fonned Eye, commands a whole Horizon: Cunnim a Kind of Short-sightedness, that discovers the minutes Obiets winch are near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a U.stance Discretion, the more it is discovered, gives abater Authority to the Person who possesses it: Cunnhi-. wh?n it is once detected, loses its Force, and makes a Man iAcaprble of bringing about even those Events which ho might laTdre had he passed only for a plain Man. Discretion is tlie Perfec! t on of Reason ana a Guide to us in all the Duties of Life • Cunning IS a kind of Instinct, that only looks out after our mimediate Interest and Welfare. Discretion is only found in Men of strong Sense and good Understandings: Cunn" is often to be met with in Brutes themselves, and hi Pe sons wi o are but the fewest Removes from them In short cZ only the Mimick of Discretion, and ma^ pa^^ ^^o weT M^e" G^Z TS^Z:' ''''''''' '' ofteif iSistakL for W^t^ The Cast of Mind which is natural to a discreet Man makes him 00k forward into Futurity, and consider what w be his Condition Mil ions of Ages hence, as well as what i^ is a present. He knows that the Misery or Happiness wh L are reserv'd for him in another World, lose nothing of their ReaHty by being placed at so great Distance from hiin. Tlie ObSctsdo not appear little to him because they are remote. Se considers that those Pleasures and Pains which lie hid in Eternitv approach nearer to him every Moment, and will be p.e ent with him in their full Weight and Measure, as much as those Pains and Pleasures which he feels at this v^ry Ins ant For tins Re.^on he is careful to secure to himself that which is the proi^er Happiness of his Natu.e, and the ultimate De i n of his Leing. He carries his Thoughts to the End of eve. v Action and considers the most distant as well as the n.nJ immediate Meets of it. He supersedes e. ery ttle Pro pe of Gain and Advantage which offers itself here, if he does not find It consistent with his Views of an TbMeaft^- iVa wnv 1 his Hopes are full of Immortality, his Schemes are lar Jand glorious and his Conduct suitable to one who knows hfs true Interest, and bow to pursue it with proper Method^ m III 60 ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. I have, in this Essay upon Discretion, considered it both as an Accomplishment and as a Virtue, and have therefore described it in its full Extent ; not only as it is conversant about worldly Affairs, but as it regards our whole Existence ; not only as it is the Guide of a mortal Creature, but as it is in general the Director of a reasonable Being. It is in this Light that Discretion is represented by the Wise Man, who sometimes mentions it under the Name of Discretion, and sometimes under that of Wisdom. It is indeed (as described in the latter Part ot this Paper) the greatest Wisdom, but at the same time in the Power of every one to attain. Its Advantages are infinite, but its Acquisition easy ; or to speak of her in the Words of the Apocryphal Writer whom I quoted in my last Saturday's Paper, Witidom is glorious, and never fadeth away, yet she is easily seen of them that love her, and, found, of such as seek her. She j)reventeth them that desire her, in making herself knoivn unto them. He that seeketh her early, shall have no great Travel.' for he shall find her sitting at ht Doors. To think therefore upon her is Perfection of Wisdom, %i whoso watcheth for her shall quickly he without Care. Fo she goeth about seeking such as are loorthy of her, shewefh her self faoourably unto them in the Ways, and meeteth them in every Thought. C. :( No. 381.] Saturday, May 17, 1712. Mquam memento rebus in arduis, Servare mentem, non secus in bonis Ab insolenti temperatam Lcetitia, moriture Deli. — Hor. I have always preferred Chearfulness to Mirth. The latter, I consider as an Act, the former as an Habit of the Mind. Mirth is short and transient, Chearfulness fixed and per- manent. Those are often raised 1 + • greatest Transports of Mirth, w^ho are subject to th' ^r- .st Depressions of Melancholy : O/i the contrary, Ohet*. -umess, tho' it does not give the Mind such an exquisite Gladness, prevents us from falling ir to any Depths of Son ^w. Mirth is like a Flash of Liphtnino'. that breaks thro' a Gloom of Clouds, and trlif.f-.Ara -■•-3 — a- - — - - — '-7 --'--- n UT a Moment; Chearfulness keeps up a kind of Day -light in the Mind, and fills it with a steady and perpetual Serenity. ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOB, 51 it both as therefore lonversant Existence ; as it is in this Light sometimes sometimes the latter same time re infinite, Words of Saturday's yet she is s seek her. ielf known at Travel: k therefore th for her eking such hem in the 0. ?he latter, the Mind, and per- ?ransports jssions of . does not s us from I Flash of id yli tiers ly-light in renity. Men of austere Principles look upon Mirth as too wanton ^ .ssolute for a State of Probation, and as filled witl. a e, U.n Inuniph and Insolence of Heart, that is inconsistent with a Life which IS every Moment obnoxious to the greatest Bang^ers^ Writers of this Cou^plexion have observed, that the sacred Person who was the great Pattern of Perfection was never seen to Laugh. Chearfulness of Mind is not liable to any of these Excep- H,? M- y' i ^ 'r"''"r '-'"^ ««"^Po«ed Nature, it does not throw the Mind into a Condition improper for the present State of Humanity, and is very conspicuous in the Characters of those who are looked upon as the greatest Philosophers among the Heathens, as well as among those who have been deservedly esteemed as Saints and Holy Men among Christians ^ If we consider Chearfulness in three Lights, with regard to our selves, to those we converse with, and to the great Author of our Being, It wd not a little recommend d self on each of the.se Accounts. _ The Man who is posse.ssed of this excellent Mastei of all the Powers and Faculties of his Soul : His Iniag, nation is always clear, and his Judgment undisturbed- His Temper IS even and unruffled, whether in Action or in N ; n-f 1 '°"r 1 'r'\ ^ ^'^'^■^'^ ^° ^" ^^'°«« ^oods which Natuie has provided for hnn, tastes all the Pleasures of the W IT Ti\' '""'^ ??""^'' '■'''""^ h""' ^"^1 does not feel the full Weight of those accidental Evils which may bctal him If we consider him in relation to the Persons whom he con- verses with It natumlly produces Love and Good-will towards h n. A chearful Mind is not only disposed to be affable and Ob iging but niLses the same good Humour in those who come wi hin Its Influence. A Man finds himself pleased, he does lot know whj with the Chearfulne.ss of \h Companion : It is Idee a sudden Sun-shine that awakens a ..oret Delight in tl . Mind, without her attending to it The Heart rejoices of its own accord, and naturally flows out into Friendship and Benevolence towards the Person who has so kindly an Effect upon it. •' When I consider this chearful State of Mind in its third ReJat^on, I cannot hut look upon it as a constant habitual Gratitude to the great Author of Nature An inward Cliear- tulness 18 an implicit Praise and Thanksgiving to Providence mM 62 ESSAYS FROM THE SPE( .' \TOR. under all iti Dispenfaticus, It is a kind of Acquiescence in the State wlic/ ein we iuc placed, and a ho" ret Appro^^ation of the Divine Will in liis Couduri towa* Js Man. There are but two thini;o wl ich. in my Opinion, can reason- ably deprive us of this Chearfuluts of Heart. The first of these is the Sense of Guilt. A Man who lives in a State of Vice and Impenicence, can have no Title to that Evenness and Tranquillity of iMiiid which is the Health of the Soul, and the natina! Effect of Virtue and Innocence. Chearfulness in an )li Man deserves a harder Name tiim Language can furnish us with, a!)d is many degrees beyond what we commonly call Folly or Madness. Atheism, by which I mean a Dir,'. olief of a Supreme Being, and consequently of a future State, vinder whatsoever Title it shelters it self, may likewise very reasonably deprive a J\Iaii of this Chearfulness of Temper. There is something so particularly gloomy and offensive to human Nature in the Prospect of Yon Existence, that ] cannot but wonder, with many excellent Writers, how it is possible for a Man to out-live the Expecta- tion of it. For my own Part, I think the Being of a God is so little to be doubted, that it is almost the only Truth we are suie of, and such a Truth as we meet with in every Object, in every Occurrence, and in every Thought. If we look into the Characters of this Tril)e of Infidels, we generally find they are made up of Pride, Spleen, and Cavil : It is indeed no wonder, that Men, who are uneasy to their.selves, .should be so to the rest of the World ; and how is it possilde for a Man to be other- wise than uneasy in himself, who is in danger every Moment of losing his entire Existence, and dropping into Nothin"? The vicious Man and Atheist have therefore no Pretence to Chearfulness, and would act very unreasonably, should they endeavour after it. It is impossible for any one to live in Good-Humour, and enjoy his present Fxistenee, who is appre- hensive either of Torment or of Am '. .. tion; of being miser- able or of not being at all. /^:::er having mention'd the -e ar*-' :; stiuctive of Chearfulne.si- r. in Right Reason, I cannot thi. banish, this happy Temper fron- ; Sickness, Shame and Reproach, 'km > great Principles, which tlifjij- own Nature, as well ar --f any other that ought to '• h-ruous Mind. Pain and ;i i-y and old Age, nay Death it self, considering the Shorlr,:',^; of their Duration, and r#'ik teSSAVS i KOM THE SPECTATOa 63 escence in o^^ation of m reason- 10 first of a State of nness and 1, and the less in an furnish us call Folly ne Being, sr Title it a a\liin of rticulurly ;tof Yon excellent Expecta- God is so h we are 31)ject, in c into the I they are 3 wonder, so to the I he other- Moment hing? ■etence to iv\](\ they o live in is appre- ng miser- es, which a,s well ar i ought to Pain and Age, nay ition, and xl.tlr;;! -f "^ "^'^^. ':^^P ;^«- t^--. ^o not deserve th Sood Mind may hear up under them with Name of Evils, A Iv iS,.-",;!'' T"'°"""r, """ """ ^'"""'"l"ess of Heart. A Alan, who uses his best endeavours to live accord in., to Nitn r ^'^^'7,^''^"fr«; in the Consideration of his own Na u,e, and of that JJe.ng on whom he has a Dependance J he ooI•" Si^ht; on thfcoiii'tv ,,''';:' ^^'''''' which are emplo. d give "the' ani, a Sp its'^'a' "ffi, , ^' T "^^^ ''•— ^o not Rays that pn>duce^n us the M F^:^'''''' ' ^h«'-«^^« the EyeinsuchLluopropoi" on th. H •^''T' ^''^'^ "P'^'^ *h« their proper Pl.y^3 , ' L ^'^ ^'^ ^^'' '^•"'"^' ''^P'"*^ Ballance, exciS a^Ve V nle..i ^'"". "^ ''^" '*''"-'•' "^ ^ J"«t the Caus; be what It vvill t r.'"":'-'""''"'^'"'^''' Sensation. Let the Poets ascribe o his ".^ 1 '' T.'t'^^"' ^^'^ ^^'"^^h reason Chearnd. Particular Colour tl,e Epithet of J\zt:; ^fa^'the': '^"';^^ ^t' ^r ^'^^ ^^-- ^^ ^^^--^ ini?, we find thnT H, f ^ *""^ ''^*^'' "^^^"^ ^"d en; ,,S,„ Seeds .,y which ti:™ ^170??^':'- ^'^^ ^^^ *^^^ continued, and which are ah^v. I i ,^"*^,f''« Propa-ated and Nature seems totde her ;;^.e ^aft "• ""^'? "' ^'«^■^«"^■^• trious in making the Ear t^lTn ?'?'?" V?f ^^ '^^ "^d»«- carrying on her °reat Wont ^ T i"' flehghtful, while she is • i^ :^.i..g ou^S':£;rc:;::;r^ira "sv-cT^-' Laudskip, and makino- pvppv ti.; ■. , * <'arden or reality he thinks of ^otl , 7but S R ""J ''".' ^^'"'^^' ^"^ which is to arise from it. ' ^''''''^''^' ^"^ increase We may further observe how Providence h«. f.I k-P up this Chearfulness i. the MiS'^f ^SL^'l^^ ^rl^ 66 ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. formed it after ,ner, as to make it capable of con- ceiving Dt'lif,'ht trora several OVjjects which seem to have very little use in them ; as from the Wildness of Rocks and Desai ts, and tlu! like grotesque Parts of Nature. Those who arc versed in Philosophy may still carry this Consideration higher, by observing that if Mutter had appeared to us endowed only with those real Qualities which it actually possesses, it would have made Imt a ery joyless and uncomfortable Figure; and why has Providence given it a Power of producing in us such imaginary Qualities, as Tastes and Colours, Sounds and Smells, Heat and Cold, but that Man, while he is conversant in the lower Stations of Nature, might have his Mind cheared and delighted with agr eable Sensations? In "hort, the whole Universe is a kind of Theatre filled with <.. locts that either raise in us Pleasure, Amusement, or Admiration. The Reader's own Thoughts will suggest to him the Vicis- situde of ])ay and Night, the Change of Seasons, wiUi all that Variety of Scenes which diversify the Face of Nature, and fill the Mind with a perpetual Succession of beautiful and pleasing Images. I shall not here mention the several Entertainments of Art, with the Pleasures tf Friendship, Books, Conversation, and ot' iT acoii'' atal I) <>rsions of Life, because [ would only take notice of such Incitements to a Chearf jI Tempi >', as offer themselves to Persons of all Ranks and Conditions, and which may '■.;f^i;iently shew us that Providence did not design this World siiould be filli u with Muiiiiursand Repinings, or that the Heart of Man should be involved in <^-'!')om iind Melancholy. I the more inculcat" l^is Chearfuluess of Temper, as it is a Virtue in whici' our »Jountrymen are observed to be more deficient than other Nation. Melancholy is a kind of Demon that h ics ir Island, and often conveys her self to us in an East; y \\ ii;d. A celebrated French Novelist, in opposition to those who begin their Ro' ances with the How'rv Season of the Year, enters on his Story thus: In the {//onrny Month of November, w/iefi the People of England hain/ and drown tlieinnelms, a diaconsolnte Lover iialked out into thf Fields, &c. Every one ought to fence against the Temper of his Climate or Constitution, and frequently to indulge in himself these Considerations which may give him a Serenity of Mind, and ble of con- have very d Desalts, arc versed liij;lier, by I only witli /ouUl liave and wliy n us such nd iSiiiells, ant ill the eared and the wliole hat either the Vicis- Ll» all that re, and till d pleasing its of Art, ition, and only take •, as offer' md which esign this ;s, or that plane-holy, as it is a be more I kind of ler self to jvelist, in he How'i' he (jlncniiy havg and into the s Climate ;cl£ those ilind, and ESSAYS PROM THE SPKCTATOB. fnalde him to 1 iMisfortunes whicl I'car up chearfully against those little li I art) coniiiion to hun 57 vils and •y a right Improvement of the »yi and an uiiinterrui lane Nature, and whid lent ot them will produce a Satiety pted Happiness. ' of - ; v,f,^,;« •liippiness. ■"any Kv I w neht.tSv ^'^^'''^ ' "'"■'^^' "^^'^ *''"- '-'- m.-.U that are prov ied : L'^^^^ "•"'^' ''" Knl-rtain- dostroying that Chearfulne.ss of Temper whiT h'^,' "'" reconnnending. Th.s Jnterspersion of Fv^ vM n'""! ""J Pain with Pl.-asure in the VVo..L 7 vr . ^^' ^'"'"'' '^"f' a-n-ibed by M, Sr n hit V ^*„N'^<^»''«. i« very truly -> a .noral^l,..i:t'u;e 1 1^:^ ^:;r:'^" ^"^-^^'-'i"^ with whom there is Fulness of Tot I T ^'''"-/"'"'^f '>f him, are Pleasures for evermore. •^' ''^"'^ ^^'"'"^ ^'•^"'' L. No. 468. Friday, August 15, 1712. -Pitdor maltiH- -.— Hes.] Hor. """•' -.-nor. 1 oould not Smile at the Account ti..,f ^r •;,'« of a modest yonng Gent en 'u w T" ^'- '''•''''^^ «''^«" Knt.Ttuinmcnt, tl.: ii^h he v T 2 ' ! '"'"'V?'^""' ^" "•' Conlidonce to refuse i(M, " V ^ ^'^ '''''"''' ''^"^ ""t th. 1.0 K..-W ., flusfrid^,!: h: ;; ':> u j^:iL:^^;;"v\r"''^" 111" own l[„„ds, ,l,„sed evom n„„ i ?: " '^"'''« ""■•> Botll,, «l tl„, (^,.„ eWs K ^^ , ^""T"^' »"'l H""!! a Kiv«n ... o,.ca,i.,:,"S";*„r „";t 'ill-; .';'•% ^'".^'■»' ^ iri^^'C;^; ^x/i:is; "-".^--r"* 68 B88AYS FnoM THE SPECTATOR I- "IP • 10 iiK)st a1>andone(l rriipiidcn ViM^U IS ptiUcno', and is the more inexcusable to 11, li'-rause it acts to gratify otlicr8 rntlier tl.an itself, and vicious punished with a kind of Kiuiicrse, not only lii'>mp/,aHes'] was called timorous, because he would not venture his Money in a Game at Dice: / con/>Hs, said he, that I am e.m;',l,mj hiimrmis, for I dare not do any III thing. Uii the contrary, a Man of vicious Modesty comp'lies with every thincr and IS only fearful of doing what may look singular in the Company where he is engaged. He falls in with the Torrent and Jets himself go to every Action or discourse, however unju'stili- able ill It self, so it ])e in Vogue among the present Party. This tho one of the most common, is one of tin; most riiliculous Dispositions 111 Human Natui. *hat Men should not be ashamed ot speaking or acting in a dis.olute or irrational Manner, but tliat one who is m their Company should be ashamed of <'overn- iiig himself by the Prir.ciples of Reason and Virtue I [Xenojjhon) B88AY8 FROM THE SPECTATOR. sd Jilt' "'T^ f''' 7' "'' *° ^°'^-^''^«r f'^I^O Morl..t,y as it '■''"'. "Iiirl, I cannot irnl . \v .1 / c^ ^ ' '" "'"'" ""^ K.-flec- .n i,'.v/a../ a pa c 1 P 'l""^ ^^"'^'"^ ^■•"•■"'"- ^o have ■Senti„>ent of this ^'atur .%'eMon t^ ""^ ^"'''^"^ f^ilHTtine than he is that h L! 7 i to appoar a -roater a;-n« the M.n ,of mI''^ ^ ^;i;^';rif i" C-ntenance sh.Huefac.Ml in all the Exoivises of PuL ^'^^^.V .'"'^kes us Hum.nir prevails upon us S • h.«n ^"'l ''''"'^"•"- ^''''^ bred Tables, the Master of 1 Tr ""'' ""^''' that at many well- that h. has no he Cunfid ." ""'' V '''^ ^'''^''^ •'' ^^n, A Cnsto,„ Xh is not o Iv ''?' i''.' '' '"'^ '^"'" ^able '^b.mt us, hut wa n ver on Sd'r; ;h:^^M"" 'V ^^'^^•""^ £''i/lishGont]omeny^]ZirTi , Z ^ Hoatho.is themselves, are not a ii tie surnrTz d to nil ".f';!.""';^^'^''"'''^'^ Cour.tries. kneeling iu the r Thu cle. .f ' ^?^^' ?^ *^^« '^^'^^ Q'-^''^; tions, tho' it be noLt he H .?'''•?' p^m''*;'' l"ivate Devo- Offi.:;r of the lly, t f]^^";; W,/"'t P, ^^^'^'■•^•'M'- An Countries, would he afinid of n.^. 1 ""^ ^ ^"'^'^"'^ "' tl'^«« but an ill-bred Man, "id L'Siir to '"'f 'p f ""^*»'''"«' at Table, without off.Hru hi! n ^'" *° ^'-*'' '^^ ^^^ down nat„™, to „,, b,U the t^eat LZn" f it't ^ [j/"" 1 " Those Swarms of Se'aaries thnf ^von..o *i V .'''^"'""^y this, of the great Rebellion "arrfthJrW ' ^^"^'"" ^" "^'^ t'™« they had convorteir;vX.e'i^^^^^^^^ '" ^'8^' ^bat siasm : insomuch that nno tl ^''""f y" nto a Jargon of Enthu- could 'not re ed too a from tt T?'f "^^ ""^^ ]^"'«^^ ^^^y those Per.on, who^^r/ ^:^ R liStrSL^^'to''"^"" '' Villanies. This led them into the otlfer Evfr«! '". "'^"^ ance of Devotion was looked uoon ..P > ' 7"'^ ^I^P^'*''- ii^to the Hands of the Rid 'll" "".';! J 1"""""''^' f^ ^'^^''"° and attacked every thin<' thatwT^ iZl ^^""".""r'" ^° "^bat Keign, out of Countenance amonlu Bv S^S ^'' '^-''''^^^^ ^^«° "ioiio us. ±jy this means we are gradually 60 feSSAtS PROM THE SPECTATOR. , IT m falling into that Vicious Modesty which has in some measure worn out from among us the Appeiivance of Cliristiiiiiity in ()r] llyiKKirisie cannot indeed be too much dutosted, hut at the sumo time is to be preferred to open Impiety. Tliey are both etiimlly destructive to the Person who is possessed with them; but in reganl to others, Hypocrisie is not so pernicious as bare- fiu'cnl Irreligion. The dms Mean to be observed is to be sincerely Virtuous, and at the same time to let the World see wo are so. I do lint know a more dreadful Menace in the Holy VV^ritings, ihau that which is pronounced against those who have t)\is per- verted Modesty, to be ashamed before Men in a Particular of such unspeakalde Importance. C. No. 483.] Saturday, Sept. 13, 1712. Nee Deus intersit nisi di lie about ua.] 0. ESSAYS FUOM THE SPI'XTATOR. 61 i An old Maiden Gentlewoman, Avhom I shall conceal under the Niinic of Neuiei^i.'^, is the ,t;reiitest l)iscack-Swor<1, rather than with any other kind of Weapon. She has a Crime for every Misfortune that can bef;d any of her Acquaintance, and when she hears of a Robbery tJiat has been made, or a Murder thai has been committed, enlarges more on the Guilt of the suffering Person, than on that of the Thiei, or the Assassin. In short, she is so good a Christian, that whatever happens to her self is a Tryal, and whatever happens to her Neighbcnirs is a Judgment. The very Description of this Folly, in ordinary Life, is sufficient to expose it; but when it appears in a Pomp and Dignity of Style, it i§ very apt to amuse and terrify the Mind of the Reader. Herodotus and Plutarch very often apply their Judgments as inqiertinently as the old Woman I have before mentioned, though their manner of relating them makes the Folly it self appear venerable. Indeed, most Historians, as well Christian as Pugan, have fallen into this idle Suiierstition, and spoken of ill [Success,'] unforseen Disasters, and terrible Events, as if they had been let into the secrets of Providence, and made acquainted with that private Conduct by which the World is governed. One would think several of our own Historians in particular had many Relations of this kind made to them. Our old E7i_.;:u-jt to the Nature of a Being who appears inliiiit'-^ . wise •wA .; od in all his Works, unless we may suppose that such u laimifi'.uous and undistinguishiug Distril)ution of (lood and Lv.! . Inch was necessary for carrying ou the Designs of Providence in this Life, will be reclitied and made amends for in another. We are not tlierefore to expect that Fire should fall from Heaven in the ordinary Course of Providence; nor when we see triumphant Guilt or depressed Virtue in particular Persons, that Omnipotence will make bare its holy Arm. in the Defence of the one, or Punishment of the other. It is sufficient that there is a Day set apart for the hearing and requiting of both according to their respective Merits. The Folly of ascribing Temporal Judgments to any particular Crimes, may appear from several Considerations. I shall only mention two: First, That, generally speaking, there is no Calamity or Affliction, which is su[)i)osed to have liappened as a Judgmisnt to a vicious Man, which does not sometimes happ(;n to Men of approved Religion and Virtue. When Dia{/'ira>i the Atheist was on board one of the Athenian Ships, there arose a very violent Tempest; upon which the Mariners told him, that it was a just Judgment upon them fm- having taken so im[)ious a Man on board. DInijoras begged tliem to look upon the rest of the Ships that were in the same Distiess, and askM them whether or no Dia'joras was on board every Vessel in the Fleet. We are all involved in the same Calamities, and subject to the same Accidents : and when we see any one of the Species under ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. 63 huiches any particular Oppression, we should look upon it as arisin- from the common Lot of Inniian Nature, rather than from the built ot the l'(MSon who suii'ers. Another Consideration, that may check our I'lvhumptiun in putting such a Coiistructidii upon a Misfortune, is this, Tliat it IS impossible for us to know what are Calamities, and what are B essings. How many Accidents have pass'd for Misfurlunes winch have turneu to the Welfare and Prosperity of the Person, in whose Lot they have fallen? How many J)isappointmenls have, in their Conscpieuces, saved a man from Kuin ? U we could look into the KiWtvAs of every thing, we might l)e allowed to pronounce l.oldly upon Blessings ami Judgments; hut for ,-. .Uan to give his Opuiion of what he sees but in part, and in it. Hrginnings, is an unjiistiliable Piece of Rashness and Follv ihe Story of Bitoti ami Clifubas, which was in great Reputation among the Heathens, (for we see it .pioted by all the ancient Authors, both Gro'k and La/i», who have written upon tlie Immortality of t^e Soul,) may teach us a Caution in tlds >ratter These two Brothers, )),.ing the Sons of a Lad\ who was Priestess to Juno, drew their Mother's Chariot to the 'Temple at the time uf a great Solemnity, the Persons being absent who by their OHice were to have drawn her Chariot on that Occasion. The Mother was so transported with this Instance of filial Duty that she petition'd her Coddess to bestow upon them the greatest Gift that could bo given to Men ; upon which they were both cast into a d.'.ep Sleep, and the next Morning hmiul dead in the Temple. This was such an Event, as W(Hild have been construed into a Judgment, had it happen'd to the two Brothers after an Act of Disobedience, and would doubtless have been represented as such by any Ancient Historian who had given us an Account of it, Q No. 574.] Friday, July 30, 1714. Non posmlentem mula vomivris Recte Bficitum, rertiim orriipnt Nomeu Bcali, qui iJfonnn Jilunerihils najneiiff-.r nil Duramque callet paitpi'vli-in /m/i.—llor. I was once engaged in Discour-u. with a Ri,sicrusiau about the great Secret. As this kind of Men ([ mean those of them who aro not professed Cheats) are over-run with Enthusiasm and 64 ESSAYS PROM THE SPECTATOR. Philosophy, it was very amusing to hear this religious Adept descanting on his pretended Discovery. He talked of the Secret as of a Spirit which lived witliin an Emerald, and converted every thing that was near it to the highest Perfection it is callable of. It gives a Lustre, says he, to the Sun, and Water to the Diauiond. It irradiates every Metal, and enri^ies Lead with all the Properties of Gold. It heightens Smoak into Flame, Flame into Light, and Light into Glory. He further added, that a single Ray of it dissipates Pain, and Care, and Melancholy from the Person on whom it falls. In short, savs he, its Presence naturally changes every Place into a kind of "Heaven. After he had gone on for some Time in tins unintelligible Cant, I found that he jumbled natural and moral Ideas together into the same Discourse, and that his great Seci'et was nothing else but Cnnfent. ^ This Virtue does indeed produce, in some measure, all those Klfects which the Alchyinist usually ascribes to what he calls the PhilosoDJier's Stone ; and if it does not bring Riches, it does the same tiling, by banishing the Desire of them. If it cannot remove the Disiiuietudes arising out of a Man's Miml, Body, or Fortune, it makes him easie under them. It has indeed a ki'ii'dly Influence on the Soul of IMan, in respect of every Being to whom he stands related. It extinguishes all Murmur, Rephiing, and Ingratitude towards that Being who has allotted liiin his Part to act in this World. It destroys all inordinate Ambition, and every Tendency to Corruption, with regard to the Comin'miity wherein he is placed. It gives Sweetness to his Conversation and a perpetual Serenity to all his Thoughts. Among the many Methods which might be made use of for the acquiring of this Virtue, I shall onl^r mention the two following. First of all, A Man should always consider how much he has more than he wants; and Secondly, How much more unhappy he might be than he really is. First of all, A Man should always consider how much he has more than he wants. I am wonderfully pleased with the Repiv which Aridippus made to one who coiidoi(!d him upon the Loss of a Fiuin, Wkij, said he, I haiK three Farm-^- dill, and ijoa hare hut one ; so that I our/ht rather m be affUete I for i/ou, than i/ou for me. On the contrary, foolish Men are more a"pt to consider what thuy have lost tlian what thay possess : and to Kx their Eyes upon those who are richer bhan tluMuselves, rather than on those who are under greater Difficulties. All the real Pleasures )ns Adept the Secret converteil !tion it is lid Water ■lies Lead to Flame, led, that a lioly from Presence After he ;, I found the same t Content. nil those . lie calls 3s, it does it cannot P>ody, or a kindly to whom iin,<,'. and s Part t(j ion, iind niniinity ersation, .36 of for the two der how »w much \\ lie has ic Reply the Loss ina ham lian ijou consider ix tlic.ir than on 'leasures feSSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. 65 and Conveniences of Life lie in a narrow Compass ; but it is the Humour of Mankind to he always looking for^^^vrd, and strainin' after one who has got the Start of then, in Wealth and Honou." J^or this Reason, as ohere are none can be properly calle.i rich, Who liave not more than they want; the.e are few rich Men m any of the politer Nations but among the middle Sort of People, who keep their Wishes within their Fortunes, and have more Wealth than they know how to enjoy. Persons of a h.^dler Rank live in a kind of splendid Poverty, and a,e perpetu- ally wanting, because instead of acquiescing in the soli.i Pleasures ot Lite, they endeavour to outvy one another in Shadows and Appearances Men of Sense have at all times beheld with a gi'eat deal of Mirth this silly Game that is played over their Heads, and by contracting their Desires, enjoy all that secret Satisfaction which others are always in quest of. The Truth is this ridiculous Chace after imaginary Pleasures cannot be suffi- ciently exposed, as It is the great Source of those Evils which generally undo a Nation. Let a Man's Estate be what it will he IS a poor Man if he does not live within it. and naturally ;ets himself to Sale to any one that can give him his Price. When Pittaa,,, after the Death of his Brother, who had left him a .'ood Estate, was offere, is artijidal Poverty I shall therefore recommend to the Consideration of those wlio are always aiming after superfluous and imaginary Enj ,yments and will not be at the Trouble of Contracting their ^Desire. "„ excellent saymg of Bion the Philosopher ; namely. That no 'ban has so much Care, as he who endeavours after the most Hapjnnes^ In the second Place, every one ought to reflect how much more unhappy he might be than he really is. The former Considera- tion took in uU those who are sufficiently provided with the Means to make themselves easie; this regards su.-h as actually he under some Pressure or Misfortune. These may receive grea{ Alleviation from such a Comparison as the unhappy Person ma v make between himself and others, or bfitween the M-^f- --"- which he sutlers, and greater Misfortunes which might have befallen him. ° ee ESSAYS PROM THE SPECTATOR. ^: tR" I like the Story of tlie lioiiost Dutchman, who, upon breakiiK^ his n^,j by a Fiill from the iMain-inast, told the StaiHler.s.])y, It was a great Mercy tliat 'twas not his Nrck. To which, since I am got into Quotations, give me leave to a.ld the Saying of an old Philosopher, who, after having.' invited some of his Friend'^ to dine with hira, was ruffled by his Wife that came into the li(H,ui in a Passion, and threw down the Tahh; tliat stood before I licni ; Ercnj one, says lie, has Ms Calnviihj, ami he is a hap)>ii Man that has 710 gn'aier than this. We find an Instaiic to the same Purpose in the Life of Doctor Hamviond, written by jlislioi) Fell. As this good Man was troubled with a Complication of J)istem]iers, when he had the Gout upon him, he used to thank God that It was not the Stone ; and when lie had the Stone, that he had not both these Distempers on him at the same time. I cannot conclude this Essay without observing that there was never any System besides that of Christianity, which could efrectually produce in the Mind of Man the Virtue I have been hitherto speaking of. In order to muke us content with our present Condition, many of the ancient Philosophers tell us that our Discontent only hurts our selves, without l)eiiig able to make any Alteration in our Circumstances ; others, that what- ever Evil befalls us is deriv-d to us by a fatal Necessity, to which the Gods themselves are subject; whilst others very gravely tell the Man who is miserable, that it is necessary that he should be so to keep up the Harmony of the Universe, and that the Scheme of Providence would be troubled and perverted were he otherwise. These, and the like Considerations, rather silence than satisfy the Man. They may shew him that his Discon- tent is unreasonable, but are by no means sufficient to relieve it. They rather give Despair than tuiisolation. In a Word, a Man might reply to one of these Comforters, as Augustus did to his Friend who advised him not to grieve for the Death of a Person whom he loved, because his Grief could not fetch him again : It is for that very Reason, said the Emperor, that I grieve. ° On the contrary, Eeligion bears a more ■ tender Regard to humane Nature. It prescribes to every miserable Man the Means of bettering his Condition; nay, it shews him, that the bearing of his Afflictions as he ought to do will naturally end in the Removal of them : It makes him easie here, because it can make him liappy hereafter. on breakiiiy ii(I(;rs-l)y, It lich, since I ayiiif,' of an his Friends ne into the itood before ?-« a happn iuici' to the 1 by ISislioj) lilicalion of hI to thank tiie Stone, same time. that there iiich could luive been t witli oui' tell us tliat ng able to tliat wliat- ecessity, to thers very essary that i verse, and I perverted ons, rather lisDiscon- relieve it. )rd, a Man did to his f a Perjion I again : It 'e. Regard to Man tlie 1, that the illy end in mse it can ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. gy N". 583,] Fmdat, August fp»e thym 20, 1714. 71!:!!T:'"''-^'''''^' ''^ ^nonlibm altis ■rat lat <■ ((iruii), cui t„ hi (' Tecta 15-Ksiness, are indn.! n ore ir m^ ? '"^ Particnlar kind of by Necessitv, but lo -tre . . 1 '" *^'"'f ^''" ''^''^ detern.ined on Em,.loyn;;,ts, which i nv be ?' T^T^^ ^^^''-'yation of fixing to others. No one „ th Sn,?« Ta''} ^'^ *''""''^'-'^ves or beneficial exempt fron. that Lab ,r ttT ''"f'^^ '^ ^^^''''^ '''--If to our first Parent, and / i„/ ' 'n f' p'^' ''''' ''«"-""oed whom Birth or F,, tm e .v " .?. f ^'-><\^niy. Those to unnecessary, ou.d.t to fin onf "?")?■ ''"''' •'^" ^Pr'ication themselvesf'that"^ Ly m V "^ 'C! "^^''^ «'" ^'-^^^'on for and be the only uselLJ'S^^f ^L";^^^" °" ^^« «P-'-' themS:: whonrtrth^^'ciir^'^ '\"^- "'^--^^^ ^^-- ^^.-ly which they find if the F Id?; ,d Wo ,""t,'^""^ ^'^^^^^"^ to one of our most en.inen i;t L^r''-!- ^'"'^ ^'^^'^ "'=^'''«i'>» one of then, as iyin-^u Xr a kbi nf r ' ''" '" "'P^'^''^'^"* "^^^ry in the Words of6W/S /^^^^ to then' a../ to the Beads of Zk^f ^''"' '^''' *' "'' ^''^'"^"^ «/ ^^"^ ^^>, -''h:^:t:i1:!i;:,|;;-'|,j;J- i";lul^ with Moderation, Country afFortls n,any o ler aTuL enJ' of "^ '"^ ^'•^'' ^''« aXol)len,an whose Fortune his nl'.l l i • ^ '^""^ »'«ntion Enqland, and who has Ih nJ . '""" '" ''^-^'^'•^1 ^^''^'ts of I'im, whid> show he has b'b 'pf "''^^^ ^^'"■'^^ ^•^''^"^1 his Life. wifj..u.t.^n. \^^'''''- .^^f "'^^•^'' '"'-^'^l a House in bestowing L..g„„ e ™ t P„i X'„f H '^n* "* ^'"''"'- »'"' Ge.,e.. „r^„,,,„, -d!r 2:'i:,:';°r;C„,;'';>.'' lie eir 68 ftSSAYS FROM THE SPEOTAtOtt. It In m Estates, our whole Country would have been at this time as one great G.irclen. Nor ought such an Employment to be looked upon as too inglorious for Men of the highest Rank. There have been Heroes in this Art, as well as in otliors. We are told in particular of Cyrun the Great, that he planted all the Lesser Asia. There is indeed something truly magnitioent in this kind of Amusement : It gives a nobler Air to several Parts of Nature: it fills the Earth with a Variety of beautiful Si.'cnes, and has something in it like Creation, For this Reason the Pleasure of one who Plants is something like that of a Poet, who, as Aristotle observes, is more deliglited with his Productions than any other "Writer or Artist whatsoever. Plantations have one Advantage in them which is not to be found in most other Works, as they give a Pleasure of a more lasting Date, and continually inijjrove in the Eye of the Planter. When you have finished a Building or any other Undertaking of the like Nature, it immediately decays upon your Hands ; you see it brought to its utmost Point of Perfection, and from that time hastening to its Ruin. On the contrary, when you have finished your Plantations, they are still arriving at greater Degrees of Perfection as long as you live, and appear more delightful in every succeeding Year than they did in the fore- going. But I do not only recommend this Art to Men of Estates as a pleasing Amusement, but as it is a kind of Virtuous Employ- ment, and may therefore be inculcated by moral Motives ; particularly from the Love which we ought to have for our Country, and the Regard which we ought to bear to our Posterity. As for the first, I need only mention what is frequently observed by others, that the Increase of Forest-Trees does by no Means bear a Proportion to the Destruction of them, insomuch that in a few Age.s tlie Nation may be at a Loss to supply itself with Timber sufficient for the Fleets of Em/land. I know when a Man talks of Posterity in Matters of this Nature, he is looked upon with an Eye of Ridicule by the cunning auiI selhsh part of Mankind. Most People are of tlie Humour o,hod. It IS the Phrase of a Friend of mine, when anTusefuI Country Neighbour dies, that i/on man trcve him: which I look upon as a good Funeral Oration, at the Death of an honest Husbandman, who hath left the Impression, of his L.dustry behind him, in the Place whore he has lived. LJpon the foreg..ing Considerations, I can scarce forbear renre- senting the Subject of this Paper as a kind of Moral Virtue- U liich as I have alrea 1^ I ^ °^ °""'"^ Pe"P^« '" the andhasa-Miabitation^frn'riLfe^gr^^^^ CharleTIL^'s"eS^^SsTh^a^uS^^^^ °' ^'^V*"""^ .^"P^« ^"--e of style. The essaV o/Uro Lfe'/"! Zrl ThT'^'^"^'^^ ^"^ "^^"'^ «»« Sc^'thia in its whole northern Stent I t«k» f^t^^ *^ '""!J '"^'hiB Parf of of which issued so manrmkrhtv swarms f^ 17^ *'^^" *''? ^^«* Hive out attributes the abatiS of ™feir 3^1^' °^'','''^^'"""« "*"«"«•'' temple Christianity. ^ ^"^ '^^'^''''^ restlessness to the influence of thetti7.''ln?he''t?;ird?eXv\'hlf.'' ^'l ^''' '^^^^l °^ '^'^ *he shores of defeated the Romans ravaged LSCn'r^ t^ "Tl^^'^ ^'•^^'^ S«*- '^hey settled in Spain. ' ^ •■^^"* ^"'°'^' ^^Ptured Rome, and in A.D. 412 counu';a;o~;.?d^henefoftzof^S Baltic f thence they swept dlvfstatiuithrn.tl r *^«. '^"""^'-y south of the 74 NOTES ON ESSAYS PKOM THE SPECTATOR m Of slender parts.— Of little ability. He would not venture to feel.— Ventnrp = trust. Vagellius.— A piirticular unme is here taken because of the effect produced l)y tlic cijiuTete. Ciapman — merchant, customer. The word is from A.S. ceapia», tobuy. Tlie colloquial rhup is an abbreviation of rhdjiman. C— Steele writes in the* last number of his Sjifctator Che following explan- ation of the siftnatures to Addison's contributions: "All the papers marked with a C, an L, an I, or an O, that is to say all the papers which I have distinfruished by any letter in the name of the Muse, CLIO, were given me by tile (4entleman,of wliose assistance I formerly lioasted in tlie Preface and concluding Leaf of my Tatlrr:s." Tiie essays in the Addison Spectator (see Nos. 483, r)74, .583, 598) liear no signature. Virgil, ^n. ix. 420: Essay No. 23. " Kiuice Volscena foams with ruse, and ga.z\ng round, Descry'd not liitn who ^ave the fatal wound, Nor knew to fix reveh{{e," —Dryden. A passage in Socrates's Behavior. -Socrates (B.C. 469-399) was the most origirml of the great |)hiIoso|ihers of Greece. Spending his time in cross- questioning 7neii to convince them of their ignorance, he drew upon himself many enemies, and was condemned for impiety. The pas"- i.Uuded to is found in Plato's FIncdon: " I r( ckon that noone who h» \e now, not even if he were one of my old enemies tlie (>oinic poets, c^ ocuse me of idle talking about matters in which I have no concern." Aristophanes (B.C. 441 nS'i) was the great Greek comic dramatist. He ridiculed Socrates and other iihilosophers in th(> Clouds. Catullus,— Catullus (B.C. 87 47J was a Roman writer of lyrics and epigrams. Mazarine- Quillet.-Of Sicilian parentage, Mazarin (lf.02-1661) became, through his great talents, cardinal and chief minister to Louis XIV. Claude Quillet in hiB poem Calli/ia'dia complained of the power that Mazarin, a foreigner, had attained in France. For omitting the reference to the cardinal. Quillet received " une jolie Abbaye de 400 pistoles." Sextus Quintus.-Sextus V. rose from the position of swineherd to be one of the greatest of popes. His administration was severe to the extent of cruelty. Thougli it does not seem that his sister was a laundress, his aunt was, a fact that lent point to tlie satire. The authority for this story in the essay is not good. Leti's work, from which it is taken, is said to be "full of silly tales, of contradictory state- ments, and of palpable falsehoods." Pasquin.— Pasquin was a tailor in Rome to-mrds the close of the 15th century, who by his sarcastic humour drew many to his shop. After his death a mutilated statue was dug up near his shop, and as it was in sport named after the tailor, the practice arose of secretly affixing to it witty comments on affairs of the day, or satire on the cardinals or pope. Hence we have the word ' pasquinade,' ^ Aretine.— Aretine (1492-1567) was an Italian writer distinguished by his •wit, impudence, and talents." By his satire, often most ribald, he won the name of the Scourge of Princes. i n iffect produced eapian, to buy. owing exjiliiu- )apers marked which I have vere given me :ie Pretiice and Spectator (see NOTES ON ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. 75 was the most time in cross- upon himself illuded to is \e now, not jcuae me of ramatist. He f lyrics and 1661) became, XIV. Claude at Mazarin, a rence to the ineherd to be to the extent iiuiidresK, liis 's work, fruni idictory stute- e of the 15th )p. After his i was in sport ig to it witty pope. Hence lished by his [bald, he won Sophi.--A title of the king of Persia. Scriblers of Lampoons.— Addiscn's stand is noteworthy, as he lived in a tiiJir 'A hen new spHpeis indulged in the most violent personal abuse. Young lady shall be exposed.-' Sliill ' Ijis a peculiar idiomatic force that ui y bfi rendereil, not so well, by ' lias to' or 'must.' ■Roger I'Estrange.— Sir Eoger I'Estrange, an ardent Royalist, translated /l''-op's Failles, And still as any of 'em.—' Still ' has here its earlier meaning, 'ever.' As this Week is set apart. -Tiiis essay wns publislied Mareh 27th. In IMl Ivisler Diiy fell on April 1st. The week preceding Easter Sunday is one of peculii.r solemnity in Anglican i>,nd Komau Catholic Churches. Essay No. 26. Horace, 2 Od. iv. 13 ; " With equal foot, rich friemi, impartial fate Knocks at the cottage and the palace fjate : Life s .span forliids thee to e.Muiid thy cares. And Ktretch thy hopes beyond thy year.s, Nisflit smn will seize and yon must quicKMy go To storied gliosts, and P'uto s house Ijclow." —Creech. Heroic Poems.— Poems such as the Odijssey or the ^neid, narrating the e.Npliiiis ol leg.-ndary heroes. ThePathof an Arrow.-This e.Kiu-ession the editor cannot find in Holy V\ ril. Addison possessed an exlraordiniiry memory, but was sometimes, as in Essay '18:!, tempted to trust to it ioo much. Several of the Monuments Iwhich'l.— The change from the first reading ' lliat ' to tlu, revised reading • which ' is an interesting sign of the contes't that was going on in Addison's time among the relatives wliu, ir/i/c/i, iind that. Nowadays we are tolerably agreed on taking i/int as the relative of the purely adjectival clause— " iilessings on tlie man that invented sleep." \\'/iu of persons, and irliirh of things, introduce clauses not purely adjectival but somelinies co-oi(liii,ite,wil/i or >i(lvi rbicil to tlie main clause— •' I saw .lohn ii'liu (and he) told me," etc.; "I diii not ask Jolm who (for he) knows imtliing,," etc. In Addison's time, however, that had almost entirely supplanted who and wh/cli,a,n6i the effort of the Spectator to revive the Use of ihem may be seen in the revision of the text, as well as in the " Humble Petition of Who and Which " in Essay 78 of tiie Spectator: "We are descended of ancient Families, and kept up our dignity many years, till tlie Jack-sfirat Th.\t supplanted us," etc. In the poetical Quarter southern transept. Monuments which had no Poets.— There is, for example, a monument eiLeted in the .\bbey to Shakespeare, whose body lies in Stratford. Plainsof Blenheim.— The War of the Spanish Succession lasted from 1702 until 1713. In the battle of Blenheim, fought in Bavaria, Marlborough won a great victory over the b'rench. Politenessof a Nation,—' Politeness' was used in Addison's time to sio-- nily 'familiarity with refined learning.' 'Culture' takes its place to-day. Sir Cloudesly Shovel.-Cloudesly Shovel became, from a cabin boy, one of England's greatest admirals. He was a commander pf the naval forces iu the capture of Gibraltar in 1704, -The Poets' Comer is in the eastern aisle of the 76 NOTES ON K83ATS FROM THE SPECTATOR. Beau=man of dress, dandy. Rostral Crowns. -Tlit^ Romans made great use of crowns as rewards of viilor: tlip corona ohnidionalin for rcsciiiiifr a hesipged city, the corona civica for saving the hfe of a Roman citiziMi in battle. The corona rostrata, the rostral crown of the text, was pn)hal)ly given to the commander who destroyed the fleet of the enemy or gained any special victory. *' } Essay No. 47. Martial : " Latiph if you are wise." Mr, Hobbs.— TlidiiiKs Ilohlie'^ (ir)H8-lG70) was the author of many important philosopliical workn, widfly iiifliu'Mtial, such as De Cive and Leviathan. Ho based liis system of moral philosophy on self-interest. Mr. Dennis,— John Dennis (lt).")7 17;)4) was one of the sihxil of English critics whose master was Hoileiiu. He lias won immortality not by writing but by lieiiig written about. Pojie's treatment of liim in the Dunciad and in the " Narrative of the Frenzy of John Dennis" is savage Monsieur Boileau. -Boileau (Klliii-nil) was one of the greatest of French piiets. He iiiC vd English literature mainly by his L'Art Poitique, which gave ri ,c to I'ope's Essaij on Criticism and furnished the principles of the French school of critics before mentioned. Ciroumforaneous. — A rare word (from circum, around, and /oj-mw, the market-piiX(e) = going from house to liouse. April Fool's Day.— "The custom of sending one upon a bootless errand on the first day of April is perhaps a travesty of the sending hither and thither of the Saviour from Annas to Caiaphas, and from Pilate to Herod, because during the middle ages this scene in Chriet's life was made the subject of a miracle-play at Easter, which occurs in this month. It is possible, however, that it may be a relic of some old heathen festival." Inkle = broad linen tape. Conceits = notions, freaks. The Name of Biters.— A 'bite' in eighteenth century parlance was mani- festly the 'sell' of to-day. Of. Swift: " I'll teach you a way to outwit Mrs. Johnson: it is a new-fashioned way of being witty, and th'ey call it a bite. Yon must ask a bantering question, or tell some — lye in a serious manner, and then she will answer or speak as if you were in earnest: then cry you, Madam, there's a bite. I would not have you undervalue this, for itis the constant amusement at court, and everywhere else among the great people; and I let yon know it in order to have it obtain among you, and teach you a new refinement."— Austin Dobson. Humour.- The word is derived from the Latin humere, to be moist. The original meaning of the English word is near the root meaning, denoting fluids (of the body). " In old medicine a humour was a fluid of which there were four kinds— blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile. On the condi- tions and proportions of these humours the bodily and mental health was supposed to depend; hence the secondary meaning of 'disposition,' or 'peculiarity of disposition.' The adjective ' humourous ' often meant 'fan- tastic,' 'whimsical.'" Cast in their Person or Behaviour.— Peculiarity in personal appearance Qr roauqerp R. iH aa rewards of he corona civina na rostrata, the ommauder who iry. many important and Leviathan. li x)l of Enf,'HBh y not by writiiif,' le Dunciad and iat(>st of French [j'Art Podtique, d the priucii)lea and forum, the bootless errand Ting liitlier and i'ilate to Herod, 3 was made the a month. It is n festival." an'^e was mani- y' to outwit Mrs. ey call it a hiti\ serious manner, ;: then cry you, ills, for it is the lie great people; and teach you a I be moist. The ■aning, denoting 1 of whicli there On the condi- ntal health was disposition,' or ten nieaot ' fan- )Dal appearance NOTES ON K8.S.VYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. 77 Sir John Falstaff.— For this, the most famous of Shakespeare's humorous cliiUiict.i-s, see Uenrij IV., Hi-nr,/ V., Merry Wives of Windsor. The auo- tation IS from Henry IV., Part II. Act i. § 2. To gird = to sneer, utter scornful jests. ESBAY No. 50. Juvenal, Sat. xix. 321 : "Good taste and nature always speak the same." Swift wrote t > Stella of this essay: " It was made of a noble hint I gave him (Steele) long ago for his Tiue's Rei<,n, Oh Nee Yeah Ton Now Prow is described as "the Ganajoh-hore sachem." " Ganaioh-hoie" sigiiihes Cauajohara, an Iiulian village iu New York State. Granuah is no doubt Addison's corruption of the name. ! could not see any Circumstance of Devotion.- The behaviour in St Paul s during the century may he further lUustrated by Gi.ldsniiib's .satire in Letter XL. of the Citizen of the World: "I now looked about me as he directed, but saw notlnng of that fervent devotion that he promised • one of the worshippers appeared to he ogling the compiny thron:;li a glass- another was fervent not in his addresses to Heaven, hu't to his mistress -'a third whispered a fourth t,,„k snuff, and the priest iiiniself, in a drowsv tone, read over the duties of the day." uiowsj Animals called Whigs- Animal called a Tory. -The i,'/,«c<^/or',, position while the la terest party .strife was raging, may be judged from these ex pres.sions. "I have all along declared this to be a neutral paper," saya Addison in Essay 463. ^ ^ ' ' Withal ^likewise. Little covered Rooms = Sedan-chairs. MonstrousBushy Hair "You have undoubtediv heard of the Jewish chain|.,„u wliose strength lay in his hair. One would think that the E ish were for placing all their wis.loiu there: to appear wise, notlii g m re 18 rejpusite here han lor a man to borrow hair from the ii^ads o ll lis neighbours and clap it like a bush on his own.'-Goldsmith Little black Spots -Essay 81 of the Spectator KMimn devotes tosatiriz ng the patches so plentifully worn by women of his time. So Golds nitl writes: 'They hke to have the face of various colours. J ^nvnT£ iarlars of Koreki. tre-pieutly sticking on witli spittle, l.tUe black patches on every part ol it, except on the tip of the nose " Morley mentions that "there was among other fancies, a patch cut to the pattern S a coach and horses." Stars and half-moons were also in fashion. *" "^ " coacn ana 78 NOTES ON RSSAYS FROM THE SPEUTATOR. Essay No. 69. Virgil, Geoi't,'. i. .54: "This (frountl with Bacchus, that with Ceres suits; I hut other loads the trees with happy tnuiA, A finnth with jrrass, unbidden, decks llje "round: Thus Tniolus is with yellow saffron crown'd ; India black ebon and white iv'ry hears ; And soft Idunie weeps her od'roiis ttars : Thus Pontus sends her beaver stones from far : And naked Spaniards temper steel for war : Epirns for th' Elean chariot breeds (In hopes of pahns) a race of rnnninir steeds This is th' orijfinal contract ; tlieso the laws Imposed by nature, and by nature's cause." —Jbrijden. Royal Exchange.-Tlie Royal E.Kchan-e was founded in the leiKn of i'.l./ihetli by Sir llioinas Gresliaiii, and marks tlie rise of Enirland's com- iiicrciiil sujirfmacy. High-Chanoe.-Tlifi time wlien business on C'lianee was at its heitrht. ■ Subject of the Great Mogul.-Tlie Gnvit Mosul was a title of tlie Emperor of linidost.n wiuh empire Inid been eatablislied in India during the Ifitli century by the Mongols. ^ Muscovy.- Great Russia, tiie central and northern portions of Russia in i'jurope. .-.vuooiai lu Armenians.- Armenia is the country in Asia Minor to the south-east of the Hlack Neil. o<»ou ui Like the old Philosopher . . . Citizen of the World.-In a work bv Ltuian, called B.u,.. iipaiorjeni;s. -Vrom all countries. Buyer. - What do you mean ? Diuyenes.~You see in nie a citizen of the world. So Diog.'nes Laertius, in his chapter on Diogenes tlie Cynic, tells us that the phil..,sopher, when asked what countryman he was, replied, 'A cosmo- polite. — Arnold. ' ■"■ ^"''"'" My Friend, Sir Andrew.-This is the Sir Andrew F.epriorti of the imae-i nHry Spectator Club. He is described in Essay 2 as "A ii.en.hant ofSt eminence in the city of London. A person of indefuti^.able industry strone reason, and great experience. . . . He abounds in several frugal maxims^ amongst winch the greatest favourite is, 'A penny saved is a penny got ' " ' Remitted me some Money to Grand Cairo.-Tiie ivfeivnce is to a vova-e of the Spectator to Lgypt, descrilied in Ess.'.y ] : "I „i:.dc a voya-e to Grind Cairo, in purpose to take the measure of a i)vramid; and ass,",,, as I had set myself right in that particular, returned to my native country with great satisfaction. ■ Coptick.-Coptic is the Irmguage of the Copts, or descend mts of an old ligyptian race. Barbadoes.— The Barbadoes produce sugar. Philippick Islands.-The PliilIi;.iMe Islands are ccleb,-,ted for tobacco. _ The Muff and the Fan come together.-The mn2 was ofteu made from iifJ^'V ,7""''"*'/'"'." "'I'''" ''''" ''" ■•'''*' cats' fur." Addison in his'paper mthe lutlerreters to other materials: "I consider woman as a beautifS^ 1 the reign of nglimd's com- at its bftisrhf. ' ' tlie Emperor ia during the s of Russia in I south-east of 1 II Work by 'ollowing dia- , tells us that ed, 'A cosnio- of the iuiagi- haiit of great ustrj-, strong i{,'al maxims, enny got.' " c) a Voyage of ige to Grand OMii as I had oiiiitrv with ts of an old f tobacco. made from n his paper a beautiful NOTES ON ESSAYS PROM THE SPECTATOR. 79 "ISIk oi'tS^fik?^' -f^/f^rl li"^ !"^r r' ^•■'^^'-"- 1'-^'^ -"^ her n tinnef H. i " '^"'^ "'''*" ''*«' '*^>< «1< » 'it her feet to make her^a tippet, the peacock, parrot, and swan shall pay contnbutl^.M to i'Sr ma'JSe ?':'"'' '''" ^"" ^^'''^' ^'^^^ "^ '^ P-^''^'' of "this little modish " The Fan shall flutter in all Koinale Hands For this shall i:i,.,,hants their Iv'rv shed • Ami pohslu.l sticks the waving. En-ine spread • His clouted mail the Tortoise shallresi..-,, And loiind *}■.« Kivet pearly Circles shine.' On his shall li,ili,ui.i all their art einpluv. And with hnght Colours Htain the ^'audv' toy " Ihe tippet was made of otter, lynx, and other furs an^/.°r.t.'''""°"* • • • ^""-Brocade is silk st.iff, variegated with gold ''2e!i::t^S!"'".'^^S.!:J^S^«;^>';'-nies=dainties. Cf. Steele: and MaWowe: delicates to the feast of a good conscience "; "And search all corners of the newfound world For pleasant fruits and princely delicates " Pyramids of China.-Files of chi.-a. by ti^':,i;;^rg^[ir:;^1i^,S\,i'!t'S, •*""^^.'^ ■'r'"-^'>' '"-^-^'^d brackt'ts folU.witig th^S. e. r J^M <^'V"°'«« will, ,i„ai, titles of small each of which stands a ma 1 cup su/^er ' IV"'"" n^''"^?' '^'"^ ^'' '^'^- "" The plays of this date hav cnnH ' i ii ^' ''*'} '"; "**'"'■ '^•""^ orniment. cups jars, r.io sters mandaH is 1 "''T *" H'-'' P^^cliase of china tea- anS folding soree„rCe"l"hri.,^ieZn1.3"^ ""^P"""*^ ^"'"■"■'^ ^Workmanship of Japan=porcelain, filigree work, bronze a„<3 lacquered ^^'S^'^IS^^I-^^^ was Chocolate, of JtpiSfin.^--^ .ie to .an,V;S^— a^-nnUl^e^rkof^ 80 NOTES ON KSSAYH FUOM TIIR SPECTATOlt. Ebsay No. 93. Horacp, 1 Od, xi.: "Short in the span of life. On distant hopes rely not. Even as wn speak, envious tlnio is fled. Seize the passing day, trusting not. at all the morrow." Seneca.— Seneca (B.C. 5 to A.D. 6.5) was a Roman philosoplier, aiitlior of various \v()ilf Mind, A H'.ipjuj Lifi\ mid Tlir Slmi-hirsH of Life. Tlie allusion in the text is from Dial. X. Df. Hrmntate Viler, § 1. "Sfiifcii's style is antithetical, and apparently laboured." The Quarter-day.— The day looked upon as finishing a quarter of the >■ Ml-; lifiicc, one on which rent and intorest become due. The Politician to lose three years. -The allusi(m is to the hope of win- ning' a new election, the act of William III.'s reign limiting the duration of |i irliiiiiieiit to three years. Eternity is to take its colour.— Colour bears here an older meaning, ' cliaracter. ' I Essay No. 115. Juvenal, Sat. x. 356 : " A healthy body and a mind at ease." Ferments the Humours.- See note to Essay 47. The Vapours." .An old name for a nervous hypochondrical or hysterical affection: tlie blues." Earth must be laboured.- Must bo cultivated, worked. My Friend Sir Eoger.— Sir Ro;,'er de Coverley is the most famous and tlie most lovable character of the S/jectator f-i^ayn. The character was sketched to some extent by Steele but filled in bv .Addison's more tender liand. He is pictured to us as a model of the old English country-gentleman, with all the prejudices of his class, but loved by his servants, generous to the poor, faithful in the duties of liis position, cherishing for tlie ' perverse widow ' the secret hopeless passion that wrought such havoc among the foxes of liis neighl)orliood. The perverse Widow.-Steele devotes Essay 113 to a description of the perverse widow and her treatment of Sir lioger. " You must understand, Sir, this perverse Woman is one of tiiose unaccoutitable Creatures, that secretly rejoice in the Admiration of Men, but indulge themselves in no further consequences." During the forty Inst years of his life, without ever being really rejected, Sir Roger followed this beautiful widow, her tantalized but willing slave. Dr. Sydenham.— Thomas Sydbiiham (1624-1(;80) was one of the greatest l)liysicians of liis time. His research and acute observation won him a name that is preserved still in the title of the Sydenliam Society. Medicina Gymnastica.— The book referred to is entitled Mrdicina Gym- nasfica, or a Treatise Concerning the Power of Exercise, by Francis Fuller, M.A. Latin Treatise of Exercises. -.-IWis Gymnastica: Apnd Antiques, Libri vi., by an Italian, calling himself Hisronymus Mercurialis, who died 1C06.— Morley. 6iitui.iax.M — Etymologically the word denotes ' fighting with a shadow,' 'a mock fight ' I vn apeak, envioiii )her, antlior of illiti/ iif \fiiiil, .111! text in from quarter of the e liope of win- .lie duration of Ider meaning, .1 or hysterical imous and tlie • was sketclied ler li;ind. He inmii, with all iH to the poor, •verse widow ' ;? the foxes of ription of the ■it understand, reatures, that inselves in no life, without il widow, her f the greatest n won him a ety. fdivina Gytn- •!, hy Francis ■tiqtios, Libri o died 1000.— ith a shadow,* NOTBS ON ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. 81 „, ., , Essay No. 169. Virgil, .Kii, ii. (J04: the s.-ene „f this East' n^ vision ^^"'^■'•<"""««"''- '« naturally chosen as Three.8:ore and ten entire Arches.-- See Psalm xc. 10 Bridge ( ons.sted at first of a thousand Ar/.ii«. c ,. A g,«. F,..d ,„.p. .,., .h„r s™"?.,!' ;f " ^'"""" •• ''■ l'n...tells how tlie soldier with h" BwordlT/d uVT\ *"'^-^l"' ^'^"'' ''''"■« aid in destroying their fellow-nien. '" '*"''''"' '^'"' '»» ru.dicine Harpyes liiizzard.s. _ Essay No. 162. Horace, Ars Poet. v. 126 : "Keep one consistent pir -Thissho 1 m end to end." ' ''*^'® ''een printed, "the greatest As the greatest of Mankind Part of ,M,,ii|(i„a." . __„ „. Age often leads us back to our former Infanov a whole |,.tssage see Shakespeare's As Fom S f/7 f '■ '-'"""'^."t^'ry on the A cloudy Day. or a little' Sun-shine -See ktay 38^ "' "' '' "• " "^''' y^^:^^ ^"^^ ^^-'^-'^ 0^ r-^ection, i.lsee Janu. i. 17 ,...d f!^^^^^.^^t,;^^-. °^^?- I^ature.-Cont..st \yhat yon think now in hard wmls a H ^^ ^ """""« '" ''"• «)"■, k «.u._^, „,„ ..„a ™,. .,,„, ';i;;;,:. -t t;=;:r^;:?;ii;:vy;,:r;J Sardus habebat, etc.- ^"""*" ^^"'^ P''^*^- m. II' ■'ust such a one Tigellms was, S.ardinia's famous" on Caesar, who could have for.ed Wm to obev B^ h« sire's friendship and his own mijh^'pray, 82 NUTKH ON ESSAY'S FKOM THK 8PK(!TAT0B. Y«t not draw forth ii u«U' : fhftii, If the whim Toiik hliii, he'll irdl ii llacihuimlinii hMiiii, Kr'iil top to hottiiiii lit the titiuchnnl Till thi' li>»t foiiisc was set ii|)oii the lioard. One iiiusH of inoDiiHisteiu'f, oft liu M tly Am if the foe were followiiiif in full cry, While oft he'd stalk with ii iimjeetic truit, Like Juno H priest in cereinoiiiiil Hlute. Now, he woiilil keep two liiiiidii d •.erviii;{-nien, And MOW, u h^ire tslahliHhiiiei.l if ten. Of kinic'H a?id tetrarchs with an eipial'M air He'd talk, -next day he'd hreiithe Die hermit's prayer: ' A taUle with three U'lfi*, a Hliell to hold My salt, mill clothes, thmiuh eiiarse, to keep out cold. Yet irive tliii man, ho fiii^'al, ho eonlent, A thiiiiHiiMil, in a week 'I would all he spent. All iiinht he would sit up, all day would snore: So strange a jumble ne'er was seen before." —Coninntrm. Dryden. -Diydeii (1()31-1700), in lii« Ahsahim ami ArhiUwhel, from wliicli i\\v line-i lut! quoted, satirizes, under the title Zimri, Villiers, Duke of Bucluni'liiun. Ebbay No. 169. Terence, Andr. Aot i. sc. 1 : "His manner of life was this: to bear with overyhody'a humours; to comply with the ineliiiatioiis and pursuits of those he eonverscd with ; to ooiitradiet nobody ; never to assume a superiority over others. This is a ready way to gain apphuise without exeitin); envy." The general curse they lie under.— Genesis iii. 17. Xenophon.-A Greek liislorian (B.C. 4'1.") S-OT) of grra. .nerit. In the Ciiropadm (Training of Cyrus), Bk. viii. ch. 6, he describes Cyrus as addressing his sons at his deatli-bed: " When I am dead, diildren, do not enslirine my body in gold, nor in silver, nor any thing else, but lay it in th«^ earth as soon as possible; for what can be laore Impjiy than to mix witu the earth, which gives nourishment to all things excellent and good? And as I have always borne an affection to men, so it is now m<)st pleasing to me to incorporate with that which is most beneficial to men," Cyrus is called Xenophon's Imaginary Prince, because the historian took advantage of ctirrent faliles about the Persian king to m.ihe a picture of an ideal jirince and an ideal state, witli little or no regard t* historical fact. Passage of Salust.— Salhist (B.C. 86-34) was a great Roman historian. The passage referred to is in his Catiline, ch. 54. Cato (B.C. 95 46) was the great-graiiilson of Cato the censor. His life was that of a the .rist, up- ri'^'ht and h;)noralile, but lacking in a practical knowledge of the condition of the Roniiin state of his time. The tragedy of his suicide at Utica, after the victory of Ccesar, furnished Addison with the finest scene «f his Oato. In the ordinary Commerce of Life.—' Commerce ' has the somewhat rare meaning of ' intercouise.' Bringing his Wit in Question = make people doubt that he possesses wit. The Ill-nutured Man of equal Part8 = of equal ability, natural gifts, I, from whicli iers, Duke uf to comply with nobody ; never iphuiHe without erit. In the l)es ('yrus as lildren, do not it lay it in th« n to mix witii d good ? And )st pleasing to hiKtarian took I ;)icture of an orical fact. nan historian. ..C. 95 46) \vii8 a the irist, U|)- tlip condition at Utica, after ! «f his Oato. somewhat rare possesses wit, al gifts. Haiiod: NOTES ON aSSAVa FKOM THE ai'EOTATOR. EggAY No. 196. •'Fool* not to know that half exceods the whole How bleit the .paring meal and temperate bowl |- as fi Mallahammer {cf. mallet). Diogenei.-A Greek philosopher (B.C. 412-823) who nft-r . n/. / ^TZ^'" "•"'°''"' °' - »-^- piilo?o'^7y':f t.ttu.Kd^^^S:. reSk VaKy^feSle'^fef^'Sftr^^ is not a nuotatiou. but a runs: " All exceV isT be aT. L " .ecS irth^""'" "'"' ^"7 ^'f" whereof the first glass may pass for hi! /hVhJ ^* '<'D>inon use of wine. the third for one-s^friend^^brtLtu'rht f<,r on"^t'ei"L«'-''* '"""'"■' frol''E'^^;X^S'^!^^^^^^ * ^-'^i« plague. cc«„i„« popnlati,,n.' Thucydfdes anej^wftne's^ "^ " ''""■".' "' ^^'^ vivid picture of it Lucietius th« iTtin . f P'««"«. f?ivH uh the most accnmt. Plutarch in his lie of ^«r,^?.'i.°^''. ""'."'"^'''^ '"'« l'istorian'8 pestilence. ' * °' i'enkles, likewise gives an account of the Ze?.?!""'^ ^'" "•"" " hundred-Diogenes died at 90. Plato at 81. theTu^hSTa°cTl^"b?aTertr?at^^^^^^^^^^ his long life lent weight. '"''"'^' ^"""V "^ Temperate Living, to which EsBAY No. 226. Juvenal, Sat. x. 266 : " Prudence supplies the want of every itood " orlt'J.r.^''''*'"''"^ ''""'"« ^''=«''° («-C- 106-43). the Boman philosopher and ^,^^'^^^"^0^^^^^^ Wisdom of faithful unto him; but if^h^ou tty^Vt'hif iecrets-ToS^nTlrra'ftl:: by the giant, but the hero bim;:if";scaped CTi„d ng hiS wlt'hT^ '**"' torch, tlius rendering his great strength of no avail ^ ^ * ^"'■■°'"^' As it is conversant about worldlv AfFitira _t»io ™. j • chiefly to persons as "He is To nvefsant wUh l^n^nii^^S"^ ^e?e R means 'concerns,' ' relates to.' snings. Here it Hepresented by the Wise Man.-Solomon. See Proverbs, i. 4; ii. 3, u. Apocryphal Writer whom I quoted.-See the Wisdom nf q,,i /'a crypha). vi. 12. The Essay referred to ig Nn 210. Solomon (Apo- She preventeth them = anticipates them (prcs, venio, come before). 84 NOTES ON B8SAT8 FROM THB SFBOTATOR. Horace, 2 Od. iii. 1 : EssiiT No. 881. " Be calm, my Dellus, and serene, However fortune changfe the scene, In thy moat dejected state, Sink not underneath the weight ; Nor yet, when happy days begin, And the full tide comes rolling in. Let a fierce, unruly joy. The settled quiet of thy mind destroy. Life every Moment obnozions.— Obnoxious has the unusual meaning of liable, exposed. Of this complexions: of this kind. n Essay No. 387. Horace, 1 Ep. xviil. 103 : " What calms the breast, and makes the mind serene." A famous modern Philosopher.— Sir Isaac Newton. Oarden or Landskip.— Landakip is an orthographical variation of land' scape (A.S. landscipe). Imaginary Qualities, as Tastes and Colours.— The qualities of taste and colour are real, but are generally imagined to ba in some external object and not in ourselves. A little thought shows us, however, that such quali- ties are states of tlie se: lient being, — that sweetness is due to our feeling of taste, that colour depends on the affection of our eye. While he is conversant in the lower Stations of Nature^while he is occupied with the common-place things of nature. A celebrated French Novelist.— To what writer Addison refers, the con- t(>mpt into which the French novels of his time have fallen, renders it difficult to say. Locke.— John Locke (1632-1704), by the essay alluded to, made an epoch in the history of philosophy. EssAT No. 4C8. Hesiod: Horace: " Modesty that la not good." "False shame." Brutus.— Marcus Junius Brutus, whom love of republicanism led to mur- der Julius CsBsar. His life is narrated by Plutarch. Plutarch.— Plutarch (49-120 A.D.) was a Greek writer of biography whose merit has rarely been equalled. Xenophanes.— The founder of the Eleatic school of Greek philosophy (B.O. 680-490?). Su it be in Vogue.— Provided it be in inz'aion. Swarms of Sectaries.-" Four years after the war [of the Rebellion] had begun a horror-stricken pamplileteer numbered sixteen religious sects as existing in defiance of the law." NOTES ON ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. 85 mnnuTi®'^ """■ ^»°&^affe into a Jargon of Enthusiasm.-" The Puritan iiiiKhsli lif,., were the most strikins penuliarities of this caut " '^°"'=*^'^"'' °* Dreadful menace in the Holy Writings.-See Matt. x. 33. al meaning of Horace, 1 Sat. ii. 37: Essay No. 483 ation of land- SB of taste and ixternal object lat such quali- to our feeling 3= while he is afera, the con- en, renders it ie an epoch in m led to mur- graphy whose ilosophy (B.O. lehellion] had giouB sects as "Nor let a god in person stand display 'd Unless the labouring plot deserve his aid.'" —Francis. OXrhen Folly or Superstition) strike in w =joins with, sidea with PS the awful being whose duty it wL to carry sw/ft ltSiS - G-ek historian, who has been B^S^f S.J^'^^^S-ii-P-t^-^rwith as little bearing on the arrow-wounds in t ^ICeS- ve7e lo^^^^^^^ ''''"'' ^'"f ^y accidental Providence." « ^ ore.st ^^eie looked upon as special judgments of Btory. See Cicero, i^" kSo J'^l^^^^ iifV" ""'' """ ^"^^^^ ''""^ *^^« nSodotu "1 §litobus.-The story of Biton and Cleobis is to be found in Juno.-Wife of Jupiter and queen of heaven. Horace, 4 Od. ix. 45: Essay No. 574. Not he, of wealth immense possesst, Tasteless who piles his massy cold Amongr the numbers of the blest ' Should have his glorious name enroU'd- Ho better claims the glorious name, who know. With wisdom to enjoy what heaVn bestows' "Who knows the ..vronjfs of ■A.-RSt to bear. Kven in its lowest, last extreme ; Yet can with conscious virtue fear Far worse than death, a deed of shame." —Franeit. ff6 NOTES ON E3SA.TS FROM THB SFEOTATOB. Sosiorusian.— The KoBicnicians were a secret society that sprang up in Germany towards the end of the 17th century. They pretended to a great knowledge of the secrets of nature, holding, for example, that Hght is what produces gold, and that dew is the greatest solvent of gold. The name is derived from ros, dew, and crux, a cross. Philosopher's Stone=the stone or preparation sought after hy the old alchemists that was to have the property of turning all baser metals into gold. Aristippus.— Aristippus (B.C. 424 to — ?) was the founder of the Cyrenaic school of Greek philosophy, a school with an "ethical system in harmony with the gay, self-possessed, worldly, and sceptical character of their master." Pittacus,— Pittacus, who lived in the 7th century B.C., was one of the "seven wise men" of ancient Greece. He has ascribed to him many say- ings of practical wisdom, such as "Know the fitting moment," "It is a misfortune to be eminent." Lydia was one of the ancient divisions of Asia Minor. Bion the Philosopher.— Bion flourished at Athens about fi. C. 256. He embraced the Cyrenaic philosophy, and was noted for his sharp sayings. Life of Doctor Hammond, written by Bishop Fell,— Dr. Hammond was an able writer, chaplain to Charles I. Bishop Fell was Dean of Christ Church. Augustus (B.C. 63 to A.D. 14). — The first Roman emperor. Essay No. 583. Virgil, Georg. iv. 112 : " With his own hand the guardian of the bees, For slips of pine may search the mountain trees, And with wild thyme and sav'ry plant the plain, Till his hard, horny fingers ache with pain ; And deck with fruitful trees the fields around, And with refreshing waters drench the ground." —Dryden. The Sons of Adam.— The periphrasis is, of course, to call attention to the curse pronounced against Adam, — Gen. iii. 19. Words of Goliah.— See 1 Sam. xvii. 44. Cyrus the Great.— Cyrus {? — to B.C. 529) was king of Persia, and con- quered for himself an empire from the Hellespont to the Indus. Aristotle (B.C. 384-322).— The great Greek philosopher. Timber for the Fleets of England.— Addison evidently had no idea of the present steel ships ever taking the place of the old " wooden walls " of England. Epicurus (B.C. 341-274) was the founder of an important school of philosophy that held the pursuit of happiness as the great aim of life. It was in a garden that he held his school iu Athens. Homer lived in the ninth century B.C., writing the Iliad and Odyssey, two of the world's greatest epic poems. Virgil has written a whole book.— The second book of the Oeorgica is occupied with the culture of trees and the vine. Woodof the tallest Oakes.— The reference is, of course, to the reproduc- tive power of the acorn. " One who lived before the fiood " would be able to see the forest, obviously because of the great length of his life. My next Paper.— Essay 584 narrates the loves of Hilpa, an aatediluvian woman. sprang; up in itended to a , that light is gold. The • by the old tals into gold. the Cyrenaic I in harmony heir master." 8 one of the a many say- it," "It is a C. 25d. He •p sayings, mond was an irist Church. mtion to the jia, and con- 3. 10 idea of the en walls " of ut school of m of life. It Odyssey, two 5 Qeorgica is he reproduc- vould be able ie, antediluvian NOTES ON ESSAYS PROM THE SPECTATOft. Essay No. 598. Juvenal, Sat x. 28 : wiJ^i'L''® "°' the pair of sapes praise, Who the same end pursued by several ways? One P.ty'd onecondem.i'd, thewoful times- taugh'd at follieB, one lamented crimes '' 87 statesman in Queen Elizabeth's Days.-Probably Walsi.S" foJfnisf SistTri'"*^"" ^''^'-^''^^ "- -« °f the most eminent of Noncon- BkSraSt^TgslT'XU^^^^ *<},^-k !f gend, the most being a cave in the summit of a m.nm™ ^ ' ^ """'' ^'' ^^"^t'^' '"s oracle Bridewells.-Ho„ses of correction for disorderly persons of therconVcentury .'"' ^*' ""^ ^'"'"«"* ^"^^ ^storian and geographer ■•T I. fc: STUDIES IN PROSE LITERATURE. w I. THE STUDY OF THE MEANING. The Meaning of the Pieoe.-Tlie study of the inemiiiig of tlie author must precede all other study. Not till we hiiV(^ f,'nisi>ed his tliought may we seeii to investigate the form in which the thou^dit lias found expression. Meaning may be subdivided into General Meaning and Particuhir Meaning. I. The Study of the General Meaning will furnish in a concise form the subject treated in the Essay under examination, and the relation of its various parts to the whole. So we may treat Essay 21. The subject-matter of tliis Essay : — The crowded condition of the learned professions, and the consequent advantage of trade as a vocation. The relation of the parts to the whole : — The first paragraph states the first part of the theme. The professions of Divinity, Law, and Medicine are sadly overcrowded. The second paragraph discusses the overcrowded condition of the profession first mentioned. Though the Church is restricted us to the number of its bishops and deans, it has lately been receiving vast accessions of clergymen and deacons. The third, fourth, and fifth paragraphs deal respectively with three branches of the jirot'ession of Law. The lawyers, too, are so numerous that many are in enforced, many in voluntary idleness. The lifth and sixth paragiavhs treat of the profession of Medicine. Here a most forniidahle body of men are attlictiiig humanity. In occupations comiected with medi- cine there are also inmimerable people. The seventh paragraph contains the aiiplication of these facts to the choice of a pro- fe>.>-iin. Why, therefore, do parent'^ (MUitiiuie to educate their sons for these professions when trade offers easier and safer means of liveliliood? The eighth paragraph shows the advantage of Trade, flourishes by the very numbers of those it employs. Unlike the professions, trade Exercises of this kind pursued with assiduity will aid greatly in the development of method and the power to generalize. The question of the completeness o( the treat- ment, or of the truth and sufficiency of the views advanced, are, perhaps, beyond the scope of a Literature class. II. The Study of the Particular Meaning embraces: — (a) The study of the relation of sentences to the paragraph of which they form part. tlie author Kiiiglit may cxinession. Farticuliir se form the lation of its advantage of 3 of Divinity, rofessioii first ps and deans, inches of tliu nforccd, many Here a most ed with medi- loice of a pro- se professions 'essions, trade svelopment of s of the treat- 3, beyond the h of which 6Tt)DIE8 IN PROSE LITERATURE. Sd (6) The explanation of words or phrases at all obscure or unfamiliar Exercises may take this form :— (c) The study of synonyms. most nearly express the author's meaning ? "'""" '°' muUttwie, etc, ? Which words of s'Seech' '*"'^^' "^ "'' appropriateness of allusions, quotations, and figures a /anc^f^^,'o^ii;-d:roi^''*oT?!>^nn\'c^irrtrthet4^^^^^^ 'olVhf ""•■^ "' ''".r">' '« S?i'h^°Cl'7rSr ''^''■' -•">'• ^-evetse^^';-i^ itrat°e't*h^e^=d ^Z 11. THE STUDY OF STYLE. • We ^"•e enter on a wide field of observation and investigation -th« fnrT« in which the thought has found exnrpssinn 'n,!r« i^^- '7^ , °"" that specially characterise the essays that we ar'e called upon t eZnlLt THE CARDINAL QUALITIES OF STYLE.* inL'^lfJiw'" *^f "^-i""^ ""^y ^^ regarded as literature at all, it must be intelligible If writing were so confused and ambiguous as to be uninfelli gible no literature would be possible. Clearness, then, is a 1 uk .^nt.i !ln&nn A^"- \'^-'^^'' '"°reover, is never satisfied ;imply it ri ,. understood; he seeks m various ways to express himself with «(..,' de"ee of strength or force. Force, therefore, is a second cardinal quali v ,f st^'le Again, things offensive to good Uste,-harshnes8 of expres^s ., v, .u-i v coarseness -cerainly are generally absent from good writing HVml"ra.?« 18 our third cardinal quality. Perfection in these qualities n ay not alwavs be attained: a word may be ambiguous, a construction wealf ust as anv work of art may have blemishes; but in the large mean ng oV le words good writing must have Clearness, Force, and Taste ihese being cardinal qualities, it becomes necessary to investigate the means by which they are secured. ^ investigate tne r. ME.\NS TO CLEARNESS. Clearness, Simplicity, and Abstruseness.— The English laneuatre bv its vast vocal.ulary,-the greatest ever at the command of man -has ^,ast ?^irn7!.i/°l t'^^^^ressiou of thought. Its Anglo-Saxo^vocabXry s ful of simple and fami lar terms, telling of honiely thing's and melv ln'd'?h^!'l,."' ^"'^'^"i ^°'=^b"l"y. replete with the terms of scientific tlZght and the language of sonorous eloquence. As a result of this double vocabu mZv'hZrr '"'^y^?,'^?deer.sy simple, intelligible even t, a chUd? i may be abstruse, erudite, intelligil,le only to the scholar. The former kind ° twr ": '\tZst a?^-'''.'T ^'^''^l- ^"* "^'^'^^^ discouJs^rsiniple oLctigni^s'lllays^bfcztn'^ '^'" ^■"'^"^'°"' ^^^'^-'y' -« periodic sentenceVhe^r Continuity : — An orderly plan is clear. The various thoughts in the paragraph must therefore s„ succeed one another that they may be recognize/ as the "consecutive steps in a progressing thouglit." =rirclfrt^r?/ner.° *'" ""'""•'^^ '" **'*' ''^'^'- •-^- »t^'«-"as ?o*"t'h'e Explicit Reference: — ■nu^^'® expression of relations between sentences is a great aid to clearness These relations may be indicated by :— (rt) Conjunctions and conjunctional phrases. (h) Demonstrative words or phrases ; repetition of word or idea. These means may be illustrated in No. 381. i.:— "I have always preferred Cheerfulness to Mirth. The latter, I consider as an Act the tanner as a Habit of the Mind. M,rth is short and tra.m cnt,X.",?f,.'« Hxe d and permanenr. Those are often raised into the greate-t transports of .1/ 'r / who are subject to the Kreatest Depressions of Melancholy ; On the ennti^ry, Cheer/tU,wT Ihn- It does not gn e the mind such an exquisite Gladness," etc. vnrrr/Ki;it.,«. tn<> prlcodingTentence!'^ ""' °''^"" "^ ''""^'' '" "^ *" "^J"'* "^" "'""g'^* *« "'« This is a subtle but prevalent mode of connection. In the para.aaph iuat auoted we have an instance o adjustment in "The latter I co.isidcr as an Act the fo?mi as a Hab.t of the Mind." The ordinary order would have been " I consider the "att^ An excellent study of clearness through explicit reference may be liivd in No. 21, ii (d) By parallel construction. It is possible, when successive sentences have a common bearing, to secure clearness by forming them alike. An excellent illustration in No. 485, ii. :— "Nothing is more amiable than true Modesty, and nothing is more contemptible than the false. The cne guards Virtue, the other betrays it. True Modesty s ashamed Mham^"^ etc"*^ " repugnant to the Rules of right Reason: False Modesty is Proportion : — We are naturally led to think that part of a paragraph most important about which most is said, or which is rendered most emphatic. Iii order therefore, that the reader may readily see the relative value of tlie different parts, they should have bulk and prominence, according to their imnort ance. ^ Clearness as to the whole Composition.-As with the paragraph so with the whole composition. Unity, continuity, connection from paragraph to paragraph, lend clearness to the whole. e b v -^ This part can be well studied only In connection with an entire essay. n. MEANS TO FORCE. Cleajness as a Means to Force.-If our attention is withdrawn from the thought of the writer fa the obscurities and ambiguities of his language, it 92 STUDIES IN PROSE LITBRATUftB. 18 plain that the thought can make but little impression on us. When the expression is clear tliere are no such obstacles between the writer's thought and our mind: the thought seizes all our attention, impresses itself on us, Iiersuades, rouses, subdues us, with whatever strength it possesses. Every step to clearness is, therefore, a step to force. Simplicity as a Means to Force— A similar argument may be used to Kliow timt simple words and simple structure are, generally speaking, means to force. If our attention is not absorlied in solving the meaning of abstruse terms and intricate constructions, the thought has greater frBedom to affect us.* Simplicity is gained by : — {(i) A simple vocabulary :— Short terms rather than long ones; definite, concrete terms rather than vague, abstract ones. Instatiics of force by simple terms are easily found :— "How nuiM.v Men are Countr;/ Curates [in povertv], that might have made themselves Aldermen oj Landun ["-on high positions in mercantile life]?" "We nreaUvays complaining that our days are Jew" [of the shortness of human III6J1 CuCi (h) The use of simple structure; such as, short bentences. (c) The use of figurative language, illustrative story, etc. Notice the use of the fable from L'Estrange in No. 93. In the Vision of Mirza what simplicity there is in the representation of life, death and immortality, and yet how forcible that simplicity 1 Force by Amplification.-In respect to the number of words used, the great virtue of writing is brevity: to employ just words enough to give full exjiression to the thought. To use more than enough results in the weak- nesses of tautology, pleonasm, verbusitij ; to use too few, in obscurity. Apart from such faults as these, must be kept that amplification or repetition of words and ideas by which thought often becomes more impressive. We dwell on it longer, it affects us the more. Meditating on the dead in Westminster Abbey, Addison naturally thus reiterates the great thought of the common fate of man :— '•What innumerable multitudes of People lay confused together under the Pavement of that ancient Cathedral; how Men and Women, Kriends and Enemies, Priests and Soldiers, Monks and Prebendaries, were cruinl)]ed ainontrst one another and blended in the same common mass; how Beauty, Strength, and Youth, with Old Age, Weakness and Deformity, lay undistinguished in the same promiscuous Heap of Matter." No. 169 affords excellent opportunity for remarking the effects of amplifleation bv means of epithets. ^ — -."n uj Force by Contrast,— The quick succession of opposites affects us forcibly. " This may be Play to you, 'tis Death to us." 'When a Nation abounds in Physicians, it grows thin of People." 'A kind of splendid Poverty." "Nothing is inore amiable than trae Modesty, and nothing is more contemptible than the false. The one guards Virtue, the other betrays it," etc. >'«="ipi.ioie Contrast is frequently employed as a means to clearness. (See No 62 where the disadvantages of inconsistency are made clear by contrast with the advantages of consisloncy.) * "A reader or a listener has at each moment but a limited amount of mental power available. . . . Hence, the more time and attention it takes to rP'Pive and understand each sentence, the less time and attention can be given to the contained idea, and the less vividly will it be conceived . . Whatever force is absorbed by the michine iS deducted from the result."— y/eyftert Spencer. "»v.i"iio w \ STUDIES I\ PnOSE MTERATURB. 93 .-.Sfr iS,.?!i'"*?-~"i''""«'"','^'''' SO rrese„tpcl to us that they come with i.giil.ir iiuaeaK,. of Higiuhcaiic't., they allect us with the gnutest int.'Usity. A fine instance of olhimx ia to be noticed in the closinif I'ara-iaph of No. '26 •- «h!.!^ 1",'" '. '"'^'S'.":"" Jf"' To'iil's of tl.o Great, e»civ KinoUon of Knw dies in me' i", '^;""I'^'""""«. '••"■"""■•' "^Md Leliate. of Manl oLhei ? Can wonln he made forcibly to impress the mind flimnlv by pla.iuK them in certain positions? The parts (.f a se tenee X^ are nalurally en.phatio may be seen from the folldwi.t •_ """' linir!'--' """""' "'""■'''''"'' *''" "'"'«'' Territories, has given us a kind of additicuil j; J/:«a^l^o":'',Z:';,f yj*,^;:;^>^ ^ »"««. ""t— «« Spint. than tke giving of Care must be taken that only emphatic words occupy empliatic Darts- otherwise the strength of the sentence will be lost. t-mp'iatic parts . Euiphasis is often secured by another device. It is „f the nature of mind o not.ce the unusual, the extraordinary. The usual form of "he J, nt e "e is with the subject precca.Mg the verb, the adjective its unun, ll,» v erb i s m(K ifying words. Any unusual form will be found to lend specia emnhas s to the word m any unusual phice ; e.g.: ' empnasis .hr^Kr'^^efld'^^^.^^^iJiS^-fJP-P- '» «" up its empty spaces as "Their Footing failed and down they sunk." "Alas, said I, Man was made," etc. Force by Variation of Sentences.-The length of the sentence has often m.ch to do with the expressiveness of the lan-'ua^e Anirnat;.! m.i^t hnu. ,t natundly discards slow, long-drawn exilre^io.l"""^ ^ ' g t ought loves the digmtv and comprehensiveness of the lou.^ s" tence But no composition is made up solely of one kind or the other '"*"'*"'*=^- Moreover instead of the loose sentence, which we generally use often we iMd the periodic employed. Instead .,f the customary assertive rentenre . 4 cntly the exclamatory, the imperative, or the ii.tern.gatlveform ccurs' J3alance, both in phrase and sentence, is occasionally seen. While each kind of sentence has its special excellence, it will be observed tha. a good writer unconsciously varies the form and emphasis of his sentences by using all kinds. The truth is, an unbroken succe -ion of sen tences o the same kind would be intolerably wearisome and c'ouseauent v weak. There is force, from the variation of the different ^;;;jj;_°"«'^1"«"tly Force from Variety in General.-Tlie force comin- from variation nf Beuteuce it. but one instance of the effectiveness of varlet^. FlgSive 94 STUDIES IN PIIOHK r.lTKflATURH!. I.'ll.'fr'infl""^""'.'' ""'"'""• ^'""'"■' I'*'''""' "^^ 8° *o lend variety, t" pleaHe, inttTPHt, and iiM|prpss us. HI. MEANS TO TASTE. ,. Ju'**; • '^''•' '."" ci>ii«iirT!r!\^ t f ^l"*!'"'''. •^"P"/'^"'""' «"«'^ »« the Balance, may be ^ k 7», 1 * ' r '"Sl'er qualities of melodious language can be attained only tino,,, h f mihanty with the sound of the languaie of our best authors OTHER QUALITIES OF STTLE.-CLASSIFICATION. Melody and Harmony.-A good writer unconsciously changes the char ncter „f the rhythm of his imposition to suit his theme The sound [a made more or less to echo the sense. Such is the quality of Harmon! (Compare No. 21 and No. 2G). Melody treats simply of the mifsic of langS T&'^f I""'"* ''"^ '^ ^^' ''*^eu said as to taste is mostly negative Iheie IS however, a large positive side that constitutes the great and lasting chami m writmg intended merely to please. This positive stde^n te m!V"^v *'"*^ '' "^-*. '""'"'y '""^ "'^'"'^^"1 "^"t 'J"'i"'''^'d Ind charmed is teimed I'^'egance. There can be no b.tter instance of an eWaiit .n- beautiful style than the Vi»o7i of Mirza. The n.,l,ility of the t^mu^rirt the beauty of the suggested scenes, the calm, serene arm phere that .ervades it, the perfect finish that characterises it in tl e ^ dy of its language, and the prop(,rtion of its parts, -an ch-ganrT, in .lu, • th.niUt expression, and form gives to this e^ssay'a charnAvhicii timrcanno! Xe Pathos.-The Ludicrous-Classification of Qualities •- The qualities of Clearness, Simplicity, Ab.stiuseness as inv,.lvi,„r tl,. v^acity as ^Itii as in its g;^;,rori;fu:;;ir,^,;;'i^:;Hi;; i.^ "' c^nnc^u!;! with feeling and termed therefore an Kmoiional Qual I ^ 1, ..,,.' passive feelings of love, pity, friemlship, leveience, are g ouped urt e t ' term Pathos Wit, Humour, and Satire, inv<,lv ni th^/eSi of 1' ludicrous, are likewise ei.iotinnal .HiiyH are lie is tlio Kiuat lil!4 ifhiMCcd at as inoductionH KiiKli.ih example of polite ri