CIHM 
 Microfiche 
 Series 
 (Monographs) 
 
 ICIUIH 
 
 Collection de 
 microfiches 
 (monographies) 
 
 Canadian Instituta for Historical IMicroraproductiont / institut Canadian da microraproductions hittoriquas 
 
Technical and Bibliographic Notai / Notes techniques et bibliographiques 
 
 The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original 
 copy available for filming. Features of this copy which 
 may be bibliogrH>hically unique, which may alter any 
 of the images in the reproduction, or which may 
 significantly change the usual method of filming, are 
 checked below. 
 
 L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il 
 lui a M possible de se procurer. Les details de cet 
 exemplaire qui sont p«ut-4tre uniques du point de vue 
 bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image 
 reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification 
 dans la mithode normale de f ilmage sont indiqu^ 
 ci-dessous. 
 
 Coloured covers/ 
 Couvcrture de couleur 
 
 Covers damaged/ 
 Couverture endommagte 
 
 Covers restored and/or laminated/ 
 Couverture restaur^ et/ou pellicula 
 
 □ Coloured pages/ 
 Pages de couleur 
 
 n 
 
 n 
 
 Cover title missing/ 
 
 Le titre de couverture manque 
 
 Coloured maps/ 
 
 Caites giographiques en couleur 
 
 Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ 
 Ercre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleuc ou noire) 
 
 Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ 
 Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur 
 
 Bound with other material/ 
 Relie avec d'autres documents 
 
 Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion 
 along interior margin/ 
 
 La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la 
 distorsion le long de la marge interieure 
 
 Blank leaves added during restoration may appear 
 within the text. Whenever possible, these have 
 been omitted from filming/ 
 II se peut que certaines pages blanches aiouties 
 tors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, 
 mais, lorsque cela etait possible, ces pacies n'ont 
 pas ete f ilmees. 
 
 
 
 Pages damaged/ 
 Pages endommagies 
 
 □ Pages restored and/or laminated/ 
 Pages restaurees et/ou pelliculies 
 
 Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ 
 Pages decolortes. tacheties ou piquees 
 
 □ Pages detached/ 
 Pages detaches 
 
 □ Showthrough/ 
 Transparence 
 
 □ Quality of print varies/ 
 Qualite inegale de I'imf) 
 
 n 
 
 impression 
 
 Continuous pagination/ 
 Pagination continue 
 
 Includes index(es)/ 
 Comprend un (des) index 
 
 Title on header taken from:/ 
 Le titre de I'en-tCte provienti 
 
 n Title page of issue/ 
 Page de titre de la I 
 
 □ Caption of issue/ 
 Titre de depart de la h 
 
 ivraison 
 
 n 
 
 Masthead/ 
 
 Generique (periodiques) de la livraison 
 
 7 
 
 Additional comments:/ 
 Commentaires supplementaires: 
 
 Pagination is 
 La pagination 
 
 as follows: p. 28-40. 
 est conune suit: p. 28-40. 
 
 This Item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ 
 
 Ce document est filme au taux de reduction indique ci-dessous. 
 
 10X 14X 18X 
 
 22X 
 
 26 X 
 
 nx 
 
 V 
 
 n 
 
 12X 
 
 16X 
 
 20X 
 
 24X 
 
 28 X 
 
 32 X 
 
The copy filmed h«r« hat b««n raproducad thanks 
 to tha ganaroaity of: 
 
 L'axamplaira filmi fut raproduit grica i la 
 ginirositi da: 
 
 Victoria University, Toronto 
 E.J. Pratt Library 
 
 Tha imagas appaaring hara ara tha bast quality 
 possibia eonsidaring tha condition and lagibility 
 of tha original copy and in kaaping with tha 
 filming contract spacificationa. 
 
 Victoria University, Toronto 
 
 E.J. Pratt Library 
 Las imagas suivantas ont At* reproduitas avtc la 
 plus grand soin, compta tanu da la condition at 
 da la nattat* da l'axamplaira film*, at an 
 conformity avac las conditions du contrat da 
 filmaga. 
 
 Original coptas in printad papar covars ara filmad 
 beginning with tha front covar and anding on 
 tha last paga with a printad or illuatratad improa- 
 sion, or tha back covar whan appropriata. All 
 othar original copiaa ara filmad beginning on tha 
 first paga with a printad or illustrated impraa- 
 sion, and anding on tha last page with a printed 
 or illuatratad impraasion. 
 
 Las axamplairas originaux dont la couvartura tn 
 papier eat imprimie sont filmAs en commencant 
 par la premier plat at en terminant soit par la 
 darniire page qui comporte une empreinta 
 d'impression ou d'illustration. soit par la second 
 plat, salon la cas. Tout las autres axemp*airas 
 originaux sont filmis en commen^ant par la 
 pramiAra paga qui comporte une empreinta 
 d'impression ou d'illustration at an terminant par 
 la darniire page qui compone une telle 
 empreinte. 
 
 The last recorded frame on eech microfiche 
 shell contain tha symbol — ^ (meaning "CON- 
 TINUED "). or tha symbol V (maening "END"), 
 whichever epplies. 
 
 Un dee symboies suivants tpparaitra sur la 
 darniAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le 
 cas: le symbols — »' signifia "A SUIVRE", la 
 symbols V signifie "FIN". 
 
 Mapa, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at 
 different reduction ratios. Those too large to be 
 entirely included in one exposure are filmed 
 beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to 
 right and top to bottom, as many frames as 
 required. The following diagrams illustrate the 
 method: 
 
 Lea cartes, plenches, tableaux, etc., peuvant atre 
 filmis A das taux de reduction diffirents. 
 Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre 
 reproduit en un seul clich*, il est film* * partir 
 de Tangle supirieur gauche, de gauche * droite. 
 at da haut an bas. en prenant le nombre 
 d'imeges n*cessaire. Les diegrammes suivants 
 illustrent le m*thode. 
 
 1 2 3 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
'■, /^'^ 
 
 h 
 
 rloCo^rU, \y>n-^^<' Cy>>^//(< -7.^^ 
 
 \n 
 
 ENGLISH POETRY 
 AND ENGLISH HISTORY 
 
 BY 
 
 GOLDWIN SMITH 
 
 REPRINTKli FROM THE 
 
 ^immcan ^iistotifal ^pvim* 
 
 VOL. X NO. 
 
 OCTOBtlf. If/ 4 
 

 ;>"! 
 
 ^.v^^4 Bi^ 
 
 THE UBRARY 
 
 of 
 
 VICTORIA UNIVERSITY 
 
 Toronto 
 
[Kqiriiilvil Iroiii 
 
 IPII- .\MHlh AN IllMoKh 41 K>\lfW. Vl.l X, N.i I, l>tl , l'M'4. ! 
 
 ENGLISH POKTUY ANH F.N(,1 ISII IllSn^UV 
 
 Mv subject is not KiirHsIi poetry or ilic history <f I'-iiRlish 
 poetrv, but the coiimTtioii of luiRhsh (Hictry with Kn^Iish history. 
 What is i»etry? IVsidi-s reason, of which tlie liighest manife~!ation 
 is science, man has sentiment, (hstinct from reason tiifmtjh bnnml 
 to keep terms with it on ))ain of becoming nonsense, as it not very 
 seldom <loes. .Sentiment seems tn imply a eravinn for soiiutliinR 
 beyond our present state. Its supreme expressif)n is vitm'. music of 
 the mind connected witli the music of the voice and ear. 'I'here is 
 sentiment without verse, as in writers of fiction and orators; as there 
 )■ verse without sentiment, in didactic poetry, for example, which 
 
 •retius redeems from prose and sweetens, as he says himself, to 
 ... taste bv the interspersion of sentimental ])assaKes. Sentiment 
 fuels its fittest expression in verse. The expression in its origin is 
 nattiral and spontaneous. Then poetry becomes an art l.Mikini; out 
 for subjects to express, and sometimes lookimj; rather far afielil. So 
 painting and sculpture, in their origin }ipi>iitaiii.v"s imitation, become 
 arts looking for conceptions to enibom-. Wc'are here tracing the 
 indications of luiglish sentimen^;aiul^-liara^eij at succesvive epochs 
 of the national history finding their e\))res>ion in poetry. 
 
 thaucer is the first ICnglish poet. He was preceded at least only 
 by some faiiU awakenings of poetic life. It was in .\nglo-Saxon 
 that the luiglislur.an 1 efore the C'on(|ue.st chanted his song of battle 
 with the Dane. It was in I'reiich that the troubadour or the 
 trouvere relieved the dulness, when there was no fighting or hunting, 
 in the lonely Xorman hold. I'rench was the language of the 
 Plantagenets. even of I'.dward 1. that truly Ijiglidi king. .\t last 
 the English language rose from its serfdom shattered, adulte.ated. 
 deprived of its intleclions. its cognates, and its power of forming 
 compound words, unsnited for philosophy or science, the terms for 
 which it has to borrow from the (jreek, but rich, apt for general 
 literature, for elo(|uence. for song. Chaucer i> the most joyous of 
 poets. His strain is glad as that of the skylark which soars from 
 the dewy mead to pour forth its joyance in the fresl morning 
 air. He is at the same time thoroughly redolent of his a;.., . In the 
 Knight of the " Prologue " and in the tale of " Palamon and .\rcite " 
 we have iiiat fantastic outburst of a i)oslluimous and artificial chivalry 
 of which I'roissart is the chronicler, which gave birth to the ( >rder of 
 
 (28) 
 
ca;iaoi,'-:« 
 
 29 
 
 (iolih^'iu Smith 
 
 the (iartir and a luiinlicr of similar fraternities with fanciful „anics 
 and ruks. and after plavinR stranjri an.l too often saiiRninary pranks, 
 as in the wicked wars with I-rancc, found its immortal satirist in the 
 author of Ihm Qmxoh: In the si«.rtinK Monk, the sensual and 
 knavish !• riar. the corrupt Sompnour. the Pardoner with his pig s 
 bones shown for relics, we have the Catholic chr h <.f the middle 
 ages with its once ascetic priesth.Kid and orders, its spiritual characte. 
 lost, sunk in worldliness. sensuality, and covetousness. calhnR aloud 
 for W vclitTc. At the same time in the beautiful ix)rtrait of the Go<id 
 Parson we have a picture of Kemiine reliu.-n an.l an earnest ot 
 reform Here Cli.wer hol.ls out a haml to Piers PlouRhm.'in. the 
 ,K)et-preacher of reform, social and relisious. if poet be can be called 
 who is the rouRhest of metricJ pamphleteers, thaucer's (,oo.l 
 Parson is a fiRure in itself an.l in its connection with the history of 
 opinion not unlike Rousseau's " \icaire Savoyar<l -. C-losc at han.l 
 is Wvcliffe. and behin<l WvditTe c.wie John P.all and the terrible 
 insurrection of the serfs. Chaucer's debt to I'.occaccio an.l the Italian 
 Renaissance is m.-mifest; yet he is F.iiRlish an.l a perfect mirror ot the 
 
 KuRland .)f his thr.c. 
 
 There was at the same time an exuberance of national life which 
 pave birth to balla.l po.trv. The F-nRlish balla.ls as a class are n.. 
 doubt inferior to the Sctch. Vet there is at least ..tie ImirIisi 
 balla.l of surpassing beauty. How can any c.llection ..f Kiiglish 
 poetry be th.niRbt omplete with.nit the balla.l of "The Xut-i'.r..wn 
 
 ^laid?" , „ , ^ 
 
 There f.illows an aRc ipropitious to poetry and all Rcntle arts. 
 The Rlon.nis filibusteriuR ..f l-.hvard III and afterwar.l of Henry 
 \- in I'rance briiiRS its punisbm.nt in a Rcneral prevalence at home 
 of the -spirit of violence, .nulty. an.l rapine. This, combine.l with 
 arist.icratic .imbiti.m and lacti..n. plmiRes the country into the Wars 
 of the Roses. .\t last the Tu.lor despotism briiiRs calm after its 
 kind. Helm an.l haulnrk are cliauRcd by the cuurt n.ibility for the 
 wce.ls of peace, an.l towar.l the close of the reiRu .if Henry \TII we 
 have the twin p.ets W>att an.l Surrey: .Surrey, the last of the 
 tyrant's victims, produces p.ietry which makes him \v..rthy to rank 
 as a harbiuR. r of the Elizabethan era. 
 
 The tinu- of the Protectorate and of the Marian Reaction were 
 dark and troublous. uncniRenial to i)oetry. P.ut clear en.n-Rh is 
 the connection between the spriiiRti.le of nati.inal life in the Khza- 
 bcthan era. and the outburst of intellectual activity, of poetry Rcn- 
 erally and especially of the drama. The worst of the storms were 
 over. The R.nernment was firm; the reliRious .|uestion had been 
 
 APR 141965 
 
littj^lish Poetry and English History 
 
 30 
 
 settled after a fashion : the ttuTgics which had bt.-cn ill-.N|>cnt in 
 civil war or marauding on I-'rancc were turned to maritime adven- 
 ture of the most romantic kind, or if to war, to a war of national 
 defense aimbincd with championship of European freedom. There 
 was everything to excite and stinuilate without any feeling of in- 
 security. 
 
 The next great jMicm after Ihaucer is Spenser's " Faerie 
 Oueene ", and it is intimately connected with English history. It 
 presents in allegory the struggle of Protestantism, hcided Ity Eng- 
 land, with Catholicism, and embodies that new Protestant chivalry 
 which arose in place of the chivalry of the middle ages, of which Sir 
 Philip Sydney was the model knight, and of which j)erhaps we see 
 the lingering trace in I'airfax. the i,'tiKral of the Commonwealth, a 
 kinsman of the Fairfax who translated Tasso. The leading char- 
 acters of the struggle, Elizahetli, the Pope, Mary Queen of Scots, and 
 Philip of .Spain, under thin disguises, ari all there, .\rtegal, the 
 Knight of Justice, and Spenser's model of righteousness in its conflict 
 with evil is the Puritan Lord Grey of Wilton, the stern, ruthless 
 Lord Deputy of Ireland, whose policy was extermination. Spenser 
 was Lord Grey's secretary and no doubt accompcinied him to the 
 scene of his merciless govcrmnent. There Spenser would ccime into 
 contact with Catholicism in its lowest and coarsest as w '1 as in its 
 most intensely hostile form. .Afterward a grantee of an estate in 
 land con(|uered from the Irish insurgents, he was brought into 
 personal conflict with the Blatant lieast. He was intimate with 
 Kaliigh and r 'ler militant and buccaneering heroes of the Pro- 
 testantism of 111. day. In "The Sheplurd's Caleinliir" he shows 
 by his avowal of sympathy with old Archbishop Grindal, under the 
 faint disguise of " Old Allgrind ", who was in disgrace for couiUen- 
 anciiig tiie Puritans, that he belonged to the Puritan secti" a of the 
 divided Anglican church. I'ul.some and mendacious (lattery of the 
 woman who has been allowed to give her name to this glorious age 
 is an unpleasant feature of Spenser's work, as it is of the other works 
 and was of the court sixricty of that time. It is ])erhaps pardonable, 
 if in any case, in that of a poet who would not be taken or expect 
 to be taken at his word. 
 
 In the drama we expect to find rather gratification f;f the general 
 love of action and excitement, and of curiosity .ibout the doings of 
 the great, prevalent among the people, than anything more distinctly 
 connected with the events and politics of the day. 
 
 .Shakespeare himself is too thoroughly dramatic to retk-ct the 
 controversies of his time. Like all those about him he is Royalist, 
 conforms to court sentiment, and pays his homage to the X'irgin 
 
3» 
 
 (ioldwin Smil/i 
 
 nuet-n. Prolmbly lie |>ays it also to W. lariiol succrssor iimUr the 
 name «>f I'rospcro in " Die TcnitHst ' Ka'.iiKh treats the (Ireat 
 Charter as a democratic aRRression on llu- riulits of royalty. Shakes- 
 peare in " King John " does not allinle to the (ircat Charter or to 
 anythinK connected with it. In " foriolanus " an.l in •* Troilus and 
 Cressida" there is stroiip antidemiK-ratic sentiment, dramatic no 
 (lonl)t. hut also with a personal ring- It is notable that Shakespeare 
 nowhere alludes to the great strugRle with Spain. But here again 
 he is prohably in unison with the court, which though forced 
 into the conflict, was not lu'artily anti-Spanisli and certainly not 
 anti-desiK)tic. In religion .Shakespeare was a Conformist. He 
 (|ui/.zes Noni'Miforniists, Ixrth Papist and Puritan; but probably he 
 did no more than conrorm. When he touches on the mystery of 
 existence and on the other world, as in the solilo(|uy in " Hamlet" 
 and in " Measure for Measure", it is hardly in a tone of orthodox 
 iKlief. In the tl(jwer-market at Rome, not very far from the shrine 
 of Ignatius U)yola. now stands the statue of Giordano Ilruno. with 
 an inscription saying that on the sjwt where Uruno was burned this 
 statue was erected to \\\m by the age which he foresaw. liruno 
 visited England in Shakespeare's time, and was there the center of 
 an intellectu;.! circle which sat with closed doors. Was Shakespeare 
 perchance one oi ihat circle? 
 
 Though not political in any j.ar;. cnse, Shakespeare is full of 
 the national and patriotic sp'.it ev( ked by the circumstances of his 
 time. He shows this in the battle scene of " Henry \ ". He shows 
 it in the speech of the I'.astard of Falconbridge in " King John ", 
 which is at the same time a complete confutation of the theory that 
 Shakespeare was a Catholic, for no dramati motive could have 
 sufificed to call forth or excuse such an affront to his own church. 
 
 Xo person of sense, it may be presumed, doubts that Shakespeare 
 wrote his own i)la\s. Cireeue and P.en Jonson and Charles I and 
 Milton thought he di.l. lUit. say the llaconians, how came a \eo- 
 mati's son. brought up among bumpkins, and educated at a country 
 graniniar-scliool, to actjuire that imperial knowledge of human nature 
 in all its varieties and ranks? This is the one strong point in their 
 case. l>ut Shakespeare, in London, got into an intellectual set. 
 Several of his brother playwrights were university men. The sub- 
 ject of the " Sonnets " was evidently not vulgar. I'.ut much may be 
 explained by sheer genius. .Among poets, two are preeminent : one 
 lived in tile meridian light and amidst the abounding culture of the 
 Elizabethan era ; the other in the very dawn of civilization, as some 
 think before the t ion of writing, sang, a wanderin"- minstrel, 
 
 in rude -Tiolian or lonian halls, and the inHuence of Hon.er on the 
 
f 
 
 I:ni;lis/i IWtry and liiii^li. History 
 
 33 
 
 world's iinaRiiiatioii, tlmuKli li^s iU«ji, lias Inin wiiKr than that of 
 Shaki'siHirt. Shakrspcari' tlimiKli piirliss, was not alone; perhap* 
 he woultl i.ot ivcn -c Jk' peerless had Marlowe lived and worWcd, 
 for in the last seen. •• of ' ."aust " and " I'.dward II " Marlowe rises 
 to the ShakesiK-arian neiRht. The thoroughly national and jx>pular 
 cinraeter of the Ivn^lish drama is enil)lia?.ized hv c ast with the 
 court drama of I'rance. 1 nfortunalely, it also sliow> itself in oeca- 
 sional adaptations to coar-c tastes from which the divine Shakcs- 
 jK'are is not free. 
 
 The remarkahle comieciion of literary and |M)etie life with the 
 life of action and adventure which marks the KlizalHthan era is seen 
 espnially in the works of .'•"\dney a!iil KaleiRh. The close of the era 
 is pathetically marked hy the death song of KaleiRh. The l.aiulian 
 reaction has its reliptious jioets, or^e Herlnrt ^ auRhan. and 
 Wither; the hi'st of whom in every Miise was ( iei Ilerln-rt. his 
 
 quaint and mystical style nofwithstaiidinR. ! ;,-orRe hert was the 
 ptKtic ancestor of the author of ' Tlv ''l'n?!i '.n Vear ". One who 
 spent a day with Kehle mi his Hampshire v .fniRe niiRht feel tliat he 
 had hecn in the society of (iei ■■. Ikiliert '<■ its Rcneral character 
 and prc'Mctions the Catholic r ' on in tin .\iiRlican duirch at the 
 present (uiv is as nearly .is possihle a repetition of that of the seven- 
 teenth century, and its nltinuite tendency is the s;.mc. The only dif- 
 ferences are that the iH)etry of the present movement has not the 
 quaintiKss or the conceits of that of the l.audian hards and that its 
 architictnre is a revival of the medieval (iotliic. wheroas that of the 
 Laudians was ralladian. 
 
 The political side of the reaction also produced its ]X3etry. very 
 unlike that of the reliRioiis side, poetrv written hy lavaliers— 
 
 *M)ur carelc!is heads wilh rn>- > ImiuiuI 
 Our hearts with loyal t\r ..os." 
 
 ( )f this school Lovelace was the best, though it was Montrose 
 that wrote the famous lines 
 
 " I ciiulil not love thee, ilrar, so much, 
 l«v'(l I not honour more " 
 
 On the Puritan side comes one greater than all the Laudians and 
 Cavaliers. Xothing else in poetry cipials the sublimity of the first six 
 books of " Paradise Lost ". Their weak jxiint is theological, not 
 poetic. The hero of the piece and the • >ject of our involuntary 
 admiration and sympathy is the undaunted and all-daring majesty of 
 evil. In Milton classic fancy, the culture of the Renaissance, and 
 
35 
 
 GoMu'hi Smith 
 
 even a toucli of medieval romance were blended with the spiritual 
 aspiration of the Puritan. 
 
 " Hut Ifi my Hue ftet never fail 
 To walk the studious cloysters jiale, 
 And lo i the hi|{h emlwwered roof, 
 With antic pillars massy priH>f 
 And storied windows richly di^ht 
 Casting a dim religious ii^ht." 
 
 The most classic tliinps in our language are the " Conius " and 
 the "Samson Agonistes " ; but "Paradise l^st " and "Paradise 
 Regained " aie also cast in a classical mold. 
 
 A noble monument of the Puritan movement, though of its polit- 
 ical rather than of its religinis element, is Marvell's ode to Crom- 
 well. Again we see the influence of tlie classics, which was not 
 only literary but political an<l entered henceforth deeply into the 
 political character of luigland. 
 
 The counterblast of Royalism to " Paradise Lost " was Butler's 
 " Hudibras ", the delight of Charles II and his courtiers, whose 
 mental elevation may be n;easured thereby. It is a very poor travesty 
 in verse of Don Quixote, with a Presbyterian Roundhead in place 
 of tlie Don. Its principal if not its sole merits are the smart sayings 
 of which it is a mine and its ingenious rhymes. There follows the 
 riotous reaction of the tlesh after the reign of the too-high soaring 
 spirit under " our most religious and gracious King Charles II ", as 
 the Act of Parliament styles him. The poetry and drama native 
 to that era are in keeping with the social life of the time and con- 
 genial to the seraglio of Whitehall. The poetry was in fact largely 
 the work of the court set of debauchees. Dryden and Waller were 
 originally the oflfspring of the bygone era and craftsmen of a higher 
 and purer art. I'.oth of them had written eulogies on the Pro- 
 tector. Hut if spiritual life was at a low ebb, the tide of political 
 life was running high. It presently took the .shape of a fierce and in 
 the end sanguinary conflict between the two parties known afterward 
 as Whigs and Tnries. Drydeti's " .\bsalom and .\chitophel " is the 
 offspring of that conflict. It is about the best ))oIitical satire ever 
 written, and its excellence depends largely on its dignity and modera- 
 tion: for while Shaftesbury is ])oliticaIly the object of attack, his 
 jutlicial merits are recngnized. in fact greatly overrated, and the 
 portraiturt' is true. The next episode in luiglish politics, the attempt 
 of James II to make himself absolute and force his religion on the 
 nation, is likewise mirrored in Dryden's verse. The poet became a 
 sudden convert, let us hope not wholly from mercenary motives, 
 to the court religion, and we have a singular monument of his con- 
 
 AM. HIST. RKV., Vill. X. -Z. 
 
Endish Portrv and En^^Ush History 
 
 34 
 
 version in •' The Hind and the I'antiicr ". wluTcin one beast strives 
 l)v a lonsj arsunuiit in verse to persuade another heast to rest its 
 rehpoiis faith on a pope and council. Hallani, iiowever, is riglit 
 in reniarlvin^' that l)r> den's special Rift is the power of reasoning 
 in verse. 
 
 We have now come to a period in which poetry most distinctly 
 wears the character of an art. It is the period between the I'.nglish 
 Revolution and the premonitory rund)lings of tlie j;Tcat social and 
 political earth(|uake which shook luirope at the end of the eigh- 
 teenth century : a period of comparative calm and. generally sjieaking. 
 of spiritual torpor, the Church of hjigland dozing comfortahly over 
 her pluralities and tithes. Dryden. I 'ope, and Addison are not the 
 tirst pojts of this e... ^: before them had been Waller, Denham, and 
 others of whom it might clearly be said that, feeling in themselves a 
 certain poetic faculty, they cultivated it •• ''s own sake and for 
 the praise or en\olnment which it brougl. i. Their characteristic 
 
 is skill in comi)osition rather than height (ji aspiration or intensity 
 of eu'.otion. The greatest of them are Drvden and Pope, though 
 Drvden was a child of the Puritan era. The most consummate 
 artificer of all is Pope. .Vothiug in its way excels '" The Kape of 
 ti' Lock", or indeed in its way the translation of the lUnd. little 
 I iomeric as the translation i>. In the " h'ssay on Man " however and 
 "The Tniversal Prayer", wh: h is the hymn of a free-thinker, we 
 meet with the sceptical philosophy which was undermining the found- 
 ations of religious faith and jireparing the way for the great polit- 
 ical revolution. The inspiration is that of Pope's friend and philo- 
 sophic mentor, the \oltairean I'.olingbroke. Pope rellects the 
 fashion.ible sentiment of the time, which in Knghsh or in Parisian 
 salons was a light scepticism, as Horace \\'alp"le"s writings show. 
 In a u-.ore marked and truly astounding form does the growing 
 sce])licism present itself in that tremendous ixieui. .^wilt's " Day 
 of ludgement ", How must X'oltaire have chuckleil when lu' got 
 into his hands lines written by a dignitary of the Anglican establish- 
 u-enl and making the Creator of the Iniverse proclaim to his ex- 
 IHCtant creatures that all was a delusion and a farce I It is needles.s 
 to sa\ that Swift's works generall\. including his \ irses, poems they 
 can hardlv be c illed. speak of the irreligious jiriest au<l the coming 
 of a sceptical age, 
 
 I-"ew now look into the minor poets of tlio>e times or read John- 
 son's criticism of them, the ro])ust criticism of an tnisentituental and 
 imromantic school. Yet there is a certain pleasure in the feclini; 
 of restfulness produced by the total absence of strain. Their poetry 
 marks the same era which is marked by Paley's theology and philoso- 
 
o5 
 
 iiol(h^'in Sinttit 
 
 l)h\. an ira of calm licforc a gr.at convulsion. In Gray and Collins 
 wc kcl tlic RrowiiiR inlluoncc of sentiment, which is one, though the 
 mildest, of the premonitory signs of change. In (ioldsmith's "De- 
 serted \illagc " the social sentiment is miUlly democratic. 
 
 The stream of luiropean history is now approaching the great 
 cataract. In luigland, notwithstanding Wilkes and I'.arre. there is 
 no serious tendency toward political revolution. The movement 
 there rather takes the form of religious revival. Methodism, evan- 
 gelicism. social reform, and philanthropic ettort. I'.ut if Engl.i'ul 
 had anv counterpart to Rousseau, it was in Covvper. through whose 
 '■ 'lahle-Talk " with its companion essays in verse there runs a mild 
 vein of social revolution. Xor did Cowper look with dismay or 
 horror on the early stages of the Revolution in 1 "ranee. He speaks 
 very calmly of the storming of the I'.astile. He showed a distant 
 sympathy with i'.urns, whose democratic sentiment 
 
 " .\ 111.111"^ a iiuin for a tli.ii *' 
 
 has lieen nut the least of the sources of his immense iwpularity, 
 though by his own confession he was willing to go to the West 
 Indies as a slave-driver. We may recognize Piunis as one of the 
 foremost in the second class of poets, unsurpassed in his own line, 
 without allowing ourselves to have his character thrust upon our 
 svmpathv. The union of high-poetic sensibility with what is low 
 in character has been seen not in lUirns only, but in llyron, in lulgar 
 Toe. and in many others. If we are to pay homage to such a char- 
 acter as that of r.urns liecause he was a great Scotch jxx't, why 
 should we p,iv it to that paragon of pure-miuiled and noble-hearted 
 gentlemen. Walter Scott ? 
 
 The luiropean crisis jirepiired by the teachings of \'oltaire. Rous- 
 seau, and the Encyclopedists, combined with the decay of institutions 
 and the accumulation <u' i>olitical abuses and ecclesiastical insinceri- 
 ties, had n<iw come. It came unfortunately in :m eminently excitable 
 and impulsive nation, full of the vanity which Talleyrand notes as 
 predominant in the Revolution. I"or .some time, in spite of the 
 weakness of the king, the meddlesome folly of the (piecn, and 
 the demagogic eln(|uenee of .Mirabeau, fatally repelling the indis- 
 I)ensal)le coiiperation of the court with the Assembly, matters 
 went pretty well. I'.ut at last, through a scries of disastrous acci- 
 dents and blunders, the Revolution fell into the hands of the vile 
 nob of Paris and its Terrorist chiefs, .\obody could be blamed for 
 being hopeful and sympathetic at first or despondent and disiiirited 
 after the September massacres. 
 
English Poetry and luiglis/t Ifistory 
 
 36 
 
 Poetic natures, such as those of Coleridge. Wonlswortli, and 
 Southc) . at first were naturally fired with enth\)siasni and hope. 
 
 " pleasant exercise of hope ami ji-y ! 
 For mighi) were the auxiliars which then sl4i()il 
 Upon our side, we who were stronn in love ! 
 liliss was it in that dawn to be olive. 
 Hut to he younj; was very heaven '. — ' > limes 
 In which the mcaj;re, stale, forhidding ways 
 I ( )f custom, law, and statute, tm>k at once 
 
 The attraction of a country in romance ! 
 When Reason seemed the most to assert her rights, 
 When most intent on making of herself 
 A prime Knchantress — to assist the work. 
 Which then was going forward in licr name." 
 
 In C'oleridpe. the great I'antisocrat. rather curiously, the recoil 
 seeius to have come first. I'.efore Wordsworth and Southey. he had 
 discovered that 
 
 " The Sensual and the 1 >ark relicl in vain, 
 
 Slaves liy their own < ompulsion '. Ill mad game 
 Thev hurst their manacles and wear the name 
 < >f Freedom, graven on a heavier chain ! " 
 
 He presently became a most philosophic hiemphaiU of ortliod<ix 
 ])olitics and of the doctrine of the estahlished church. In his pecu- 
 liar wav. in fact, he mav he said to he about the i;re:ilest of Anslicati 
 divines. Wordsworth, it is needless t.. say. jireseutly shared the 
 recoil. The spirit of his poetry, whenever he t<iuches on institutions, 
 civil or relijrious. is thoroughly conservative, (hi the other hand, 
 nehher of these two men can be said to have turned Tory. '1 hey 
 simply fell hack on attachment to the national polity and i)riiiciples. 
 The I'rench Revolution had ended natural!) by Riving birth to a 
 niilitarv desjiot and coU(|ueror, the struggle against whom was a 
 strugle for the liberty f)f all nations. Southey became more decidedly 
 Torv, and though he was one of the best and most amiable of men, 
 drew upon hhuself Whig hatred and ;d)use. He lives chielly by his 
 lAjc of Sclson. Yet he is no mean iioet. " The Curse of Kehania "' 
 is a splendid piece, full of the gorgeous imagery and the fantastic 
 mvthologv of the East. Kehania. the impious rajah, whose career 
 of insatiable ambition, after coii(|uering earth and storming heaven, 
 ends in his plucking on himself a miserable doom, is evidently Na- 
 poleon, whom as the arch-enemy of his kind. Southey regarded with 
 the intense anil righteous detestation, vented in the spirited oile on 
 the negotiations with I'.onaparte. 
 
 On the other side, we have in different lines P.yron, Shelley, and 
 Tom Moore. Keats may perha])s be regardeil as one of he circle, 
 though he wrote nothing distinctl} in that sense. P.yron is perhaps 
 
37 
 
 Goldioin Smith 
 
 more European than English. Ik left England at an early age. 
 ami though he revi.sitcd it did not settle, but spent the rest of his life 
 mainly in Italv. Still more was he idiosyncratic. The self-pres- 
 entation and self-worship which 1^11 his poems are unparalleled, and 
 considering the character of the man who thus pours out upon us his 
 lacerated feelings and .sentimental woes, one finds it difficult now to 
 read the first cantos at all events of " Childe Uarol.l " with much 
 respect or pleasure. But the novelty of Byronisni. its attractions for 
 weak egotism, and the poetic dress which the writer's unquestionable 
 genius gave it, helped perhaps in some measure by his rank and his 
 personal hcautv, made it the rage of the hour. .\s an Englishman, 
 Hymn was not a political revolutionist: in fact he always remained 
 an aristocrat: but he was a social iconoclast. Mis great work, as 
 his admirers probably say with truth, is "Don Juan", with its 
 affected cvnicism and unaffected lubricity. :\lacaulay sneers at 
 liniish moralitv for its condemnation of llyron. British morality 
 niav be prudish, fitful, and sometimes hollow, i'.ut it has guarded 
 the' family and all that depends thereon, as Byron had goo.l reason 
 to know. Italian morality, however poetic, did not. 
 
 The connection of Shelley is rather with European history than 
 with the history of England, though he could not shake himself free 
 from the intluences, attractive and repulsive, of bis birthplace. His 
 interest in the French Revolution is proclaimed in the opening of 
 " The Revolt of Islam " and makes itself felt generally through the 
 poem. A revo'utionist Shelley was with a vengeance In every line, 
 religious, political, social, moral, matrimonial, and even dietetic, 
 wanting us to be vegetarians and marry our sisters. He was in fact 
 an anarchist, though --.s far as jjossible from being a dynamiter; 
 resembling the gentle Kropotkin of our day. who believes that we 
 should all be goofl and happy if we would only do away with the 
 police. It is curious to see the story of Prometheus, the great rebel 
 against the tvrant of the universe, half .vritten by .lischylus and 
 finished in the same spirit, after the lapse of all those centuries, by 
 Shelley. .Vn Anglican college could not in those days help expelling 
 a rampant propagator of atheism, tlmngh it has now adopted his 
 meniorv and built him a strange and incongruous shrine within its 
 courts. Nor could Eldon, as the legal guardian of the interests of 
 Shellev's children, have left them in the ban<ls of a father who would 
 have brought them up to social ruin. Shelley, however, like Rous- 
 , "au, was cosmopolitan. He withdrew from English citizenship to 
 speml the rest of his days in Italy. Moreover, he was a being as 
 intensely poetic and as little allied to earth in any way as his own 
 skylark. He is not the first of poets in mental power, but he is, it 
 
English Poetry and English History 
 
 ;>« 
 
 seems to me, the most purely and intensely jioelic. What could lead 
 my friend Mattluw Arnold to disrate Shelley's poetry and put it 
 below his letters, I never .niild understand. " A beautiful but inef- 
 fectual angel, beating in tlu void bis luminous wings in vaui " ; such 
 was Arnold's description of Shelley, and true it is that so far as any 
 practical results of his poetic preaching were c<incerned. the angel did 
 beat bis wings in vain; but if he v.-is luminous and beautiful, be 
 fulfilled the idea of a poet. 
 
 Tom Moore clearly belongs to the history of his age. He is the 
 bard of the Whigs in their tight with the Tory government, and 
 of his native Ireland, then struggling for emancipation. He is a 
 thorough Irishman with all the lightness and brilliancy of his race, 
 with all its fun and with all its pathos. The jiathos we have in 
 " Paradise and the I'eri ", as well as in ■ Irish Melodies ". The fun 
 takes largely the form of political satire. \'ery good the satire is, 
 though like almost all satire and caricature, it loses a part of its 
 pungency by lapse of time. To enjoy it thoroughly you must have 
 lived at least near to the days of the Regency, I'.ldon, Castlereagh, 
 and Sidiuouth. 
 
 On the other side we have Walter Scott. When be is named we 
 think of the incomparable writer of fiction rather than of the ixiet 
 Yet surelv the writer of " Marmion ", of the introduction to ' Mar- 
 mion ". and of the lyrical pieces interspersed in the tales, deserves a 
 place, and a high place, among poets. Is not " Marmion " a noble 
 piece and the most truly epic thing in our language, besides being 
 most interesting as a tale? Scott is claimed politically and ecclesiasti- 
 cally by the party of reaction. It is said that he turned the eyes of 
 his generation back from the sceptical and revolutionary ])resent to 
 the reverent and chivalrous past. He has even been cited as the 
 harbinger of Ritualism. The romanee. of which he was the wizard, 
 certainly instils love of the past. So far he did beli mg to the reaction. 
 But his motive was never political or ecclesiastical. < )f ecdesia.stic- 
 ism there was nothing alx)ut him. He delighted in mined abbeys, 
 but a boon comi)anion was to him "worth all the llernardan brood 
 who ever wore I'roek or hood ". A Tory, and an anient Tory, be was. 
 An intense patriot he was in the struggle with revolutionary I'rance 
 and her emperor. A worshiper of monarchy he was-. <levout enough 
 . to adore (ieorge \\ . but be was above all things a great artist, per- 
 fectly impartial in his choice of subjects for his art. Welcome alike 
 to hi:n were Tory and Whig, Cavalier and Roundheail, Jacobite and 
 Covenanter, if they could furnish him with character. Happily for 
 his re- e's, be never preaches, as some novelists do; yet we learn 
 f-om him historical toleration and breadth nt vi.w. while we are 
 
 i 
 
■jg (ioMTt-'i// Smith 
 
 always inihibiiif,' tlu' scntinifnts <if a genial, liigh-niindiil. and alto- 
 gctluT noble gentleman. 
 
 We nnist not forget L'rabbe, who though as far as iwssible from 
 being revoluti<inary. perhaps instils a slightly democratic sentiment 
 bv cultivating our social interest in the poor. ICbenezer KUiott, the 
 author of the '• (.'orn-I.aw Rhymes " and no mean poet, is a bard of 
 the liberal movement and especially of free trade. Unless he was 
 greath mistaken, there can be no doubt about the source of industrial 
 miserv in his day. 
 
 linnyson has been called a great teacher. The name is inappro- 
 p'iate, as an\ one who had known the man would feel. He was one 
 of the greatest of poets, almost unrivaled in beauty of language and 
 in mel.Mly. I'.ut he had nothing definite to teach. With fix. d opin- 
 ions he could not have been so perfectly as he was the mirror of 
 intellectual society in his age. " There is more faith in honest doubt 
 
 than in half the creeds. fhere's something in this world amiss 
 
 will be unriddled by and by." That was his mental attitude, and it 
 was perlectlv characteristic of a time in which old beliefs were pass- 
 ing away and new beliefs had not yet been formed : an age of vague 
 spiritual hoi)es and yearn' igs. such as glinnner in " In Memoriam " 
 and wherever Tenny.son touciies the subjects of ( iod and religion 
 and the mvstcry of being. In this sense his poetry is a chapter in the 
 general history of the Knglish mind. We see at the same time in 
 his jioems the advance of science, to which with consummate art he 
 lends a poetic form. The revolt of woman is playfully treated in 
 •• The Princess ". Reaction against the i)revalent commercialism and 
 materialism finds expression in the chivalrous " Idylls of the King' . 
 Tennyson is intensely patriotic and even militarist, though a man 
 could not be imagined less likely to be found on a field of battle. In 
 this also he represents an ecUly in the current of national sentiment. 
 In the well-known passage in " .Maud " welcoming the Crimean War 
 he thoroughly identified himself with luiglish history, th<nigh he 
 lived, like Lord .Salisbury, to find that he had laid his money on the ^ 
 wrong horse. 
 
 The names of .\ubrey de \ere and I-rederick Taber on one side, 
 those of .Swinburne and Mrs. I'.arrett drowning on the other, show 
 that linglisli poetry has been lending its lyre to the expression of all 
 the different sentiments, ecclesiastical, political, and social, of an age 
 full of life and conflict. I'.ut the connection is rather with European 
 than with Mnglish history. :\latthew .\rnold is the arch-connoisseur 
 and general censor, a^jpreciating all varieties and regulating them 
 bv his taste rather than connecting himself with anything national or 
 special, unless it be the spirit of free thought which was consuming 
 
Eiis^/isli Poetry ami /:iio/isli //is/orr 
 
 4C1 
 
 Knglaml in bis day. His poetry is simply IurIi art. ( )f I'.n.wninR 
 I fear to speak. His charac ristic poems <ln not pvi- na- i)li;iMirt.' of 
 that sort which it is supposed to be the special function of poetry to 
 give. He is a pbiloso])ber in verse with r.rovvning six'ieties to inter 
 pret his philosophy. He, again, symbolizes the general tendeneies of 
 an age, rather than any special period or iihase of ICnglish history. 
 
 We seem now to have come to a break in tlie life of poetry in 
 England and elsewliere ; let us hope not to its close, 'riure are good 
 writers. Mr. Watson, for example. .Swinburne witli his revolu- 
 tionarv fer\'or is still with us. Kdwin .Arnold with his singnl.ir com- 
 mand' of luscious language has only just left us. lUit neither in 
 England nor anywhere else does there i.ppear to be a great poet. 
 Imagination has tak.n refuge in the novels.of which there is a dihige. 
 though among them, Ceorge Eliot 'u her pecriar line excepted, there 
 is not the ■ ival of .Miss .\u^ten. Water ScotJ. Ihackeray. or Dickens. 
 The phenomenon appears to be common to ICurope in gener.il. Is 
 science killing poetic feeling? Darwin owns that he had entirely 
 lost all taste for poetry, and not oily for poetry but lor a;i> thing 
 esthetic. Vet Tenny.son .seems to iiave shown that science itself 
 has a sentiment of its own and one capable of i)oetic presentation. 
 Ours is manifestly an age of transition. ( )f what it is the precursor 
 
 an old man is not likely to see. 
 
 GoLDwiN Smith.