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STRANG, B.A., AM) A. J. MOORE, B.A., GotUrich Hijh School TORONTO: THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED. 1887. €ncilish ^ittfatttrc for 1888. COWPER'S TASK BOOKS III & IV. THE GARDEN AND THE WINTER EVENING, WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES, «kc. B/ H. I. STRANG, B.A., AKD A. J. MOORE, B.A., Ooderich High School. TORONTO: THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY. LIMITED. 1887. Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada in the year one thousand eight hundred and eighty-seven by Thk C^>-t, Ci.akk Company (Limitkd) in the Office of the Minister oi Agriculture. PREFACE. In preparing this edition of the Eng^isli Literature prescribed for next year's examinations for First and Second Class Teachers and Univer- sity Matriculation, the editors have kept in mind that the majority of those for whose use it is intended have neither the time nor the oppor- tunities to consult good works of reference, and copy from them what they need. They have accordingly endeavored to provide in the intro- duction and notes sufficient information of a biographical, explanatory, and critical nature to acquaint students with the life and character of the authors, as weU as the influences that surrounded them, and to enable them to understand, appreciate, and profit by the works While, however, much has been done for candidates, more—and that the most important part —has been left for them to do, and it is hoped that the hints, suggestions, and questions will have the effect of leading them to observe, investigate, and form opinions for themselves. The text of the prose has been taken from Bohn's edition, that of the poetry from the Globe. Free use has been made of the excellent life of Cowper, prefixed to Griffiths' (Clarendon Press) edition of his poems. In annotating the prose, while tlie construction of the paragraphs has not been overlooked, special attention has been paid to the struc- ture of the sentences, the editors believing not only that this is a most important matter for students to attend to, but also that direct teaching can do more for them in this respect than in regard to the proper construction of paragraphs. A carefully selected, but by no means exhaustive, list of subjects for written exercises on the prose has been appended to the notes. The editors have tried to profit by experience, and they hope, there- fore, that the work will be found to be a distinct improvement on last year's edition, and that teachers will find it on examination — if not all they would like — at least worthy to be recommended to their classes. Lastly, it should be said, as last year, that while the editors' names appear jointly on the title page, the great bulk of the work has been done by Mr. Moore, and that, with the exception of a few alterations and additions, both introduction and notes appear substantially as they were written by him. Goderich, June xz, 1887. LIFE OF COWPER. William Cowpbr, the household poet of England, was born in the year 1731, at Great Berkhamstead in Hertfordshire, on the 15th Nov., O.S. On both sides he was of good family, tracing his father's back to the reign of Edward IV., and that of his mother, who was a Donne, and a connection of the celebrated poet of that name, to the time of Henry IH. His father. Rev. John Cowper, D.D., Rector of Great Berkhamstead, and one of the Chaplains of George H., was the second son of Spencer Cowper, a Judge in the Common Pleas, and a nephew of that William Cowper who was Keeper of the Great Seal in the coalition of 1705, and was created Earl Cowper in 1706. The poet's mother, Anne Donne, died at the early age of thirty-four, when he was just six years of age. " In what sacred remembrance the gentle child held her love and care of him, we find in more than on^ passage of his life. The gift of her picture, which he received fifty-t:iree years after her death, gave him the occasion to pour out all his love and gratitude in what is probably the most touching elegy in the English language." In 1738 he was sent to a private school kept by a Dr. Pitman, and he spent there a miserable two years. He was always delicate in health, and being of a nervous and sensitive organization both of mind and body, the bullying to which he was subjected by the ruder and healthier boys was a perfect torture to him. After being under an oculist's care for two years, he was sent by his father, at ten years of age, to Westminster School. There he spent seven of the happiest years of his life. With his masters he gained some reputation for his scholarship, and his kindly disposition, joined to his skill in cricket, football, and other games, secured him the attachment and respect of his schoolfellows. In his " Review of Schools," which is mainly a rather one-sided invective against the educational systems of those days, he yet describes lovingly its games and amusements, and expresses " His fond attachment to the well-known place, Where first we started into life's long race." Besides Cowper, there were then in attendance at Westminster several other boys, who afterwards became distinguished in the world ii. LIFE OF COWPER. of letters or of politics, such as Churchill, the poet ; F> . ve nature, already weak from previous agitation. " A thunder -bult,' le says, " would have been as welcome to me as this announcement." It was near vacation, and he fled to Margate. But his terr ' . only inrre ied ; he was beyond the hope of mercy; he had comuiitted th* unpardonable sin, and he longed for madness tc give him release uom his horrible thoughts. This soon came, and he made several attempts on his life. He went to the Thames embankment to plun^^e in, twenty times he raised the phial of laudanum to his lips, twice he pointed the Vnife at his breast, and thrice he attempted strangulation. But in all his courage failed him. His friends took the only course open to them , they removed him to a private asylum at St. Albans kept by Dr. Cotton. Some have supposed that his pecuniary difficulties, or the love affair with his cousin, may have unsettled his mind ; but the truth is, that he inherited from his family, along with his poetical ability, a tendency to melancholy or depression of spirits. And this was probably the reason why Ashley Cowper, who was not likely to be ignorant of the family taint, had set his face so firmly against the union of the two cousins, a union undesirable also on the score of poverty and consanguinity. He had had a previous attack of melancholy when in the Ti^mple, but a visit to the beauties of Southampton and the New Forest had dissipated it. la this connection we may notice the frequent assertion that religion drove him mad. It would be much nearer the truth to say that religion restored him to reason. In July, 1764, at Dr. Cotton's, his brother John, now a clergyman and fellow at Cambridge, intimated to him that his settled assurance of sudden judgn^ent was all a delusion, and recommended him to study the Bible. Cowper eagerly caught at the suggestion. He opened his Bible, and the first verse his eyef IV. LIFE OF COWPER. rested on was Romans iii., 25: "Whom God hath sent forth to be a propitiation through faith in His blood, to declare His righteousness for the remission of sins that are past through the forbearance of God." •' Immediately, i' says Covvper, "I received strength to believe, and the full beams of the Sun of Righteousness fell upon me." And now, where before was gloom and despair, all was joy and peace. It would be grossly uncharitable and irreverent to doubt this change. He solemnly believed it to be the moment of bis conversion — the turning point in his spiritual and moral life. His cure was effected in three or four months, but he stayed on for a year and a half, the excellent and godly Dr. Cotton assisting to bring him back to complete mental and spiritual health. Then he took lodgings at Huntington, to be within easy distance of his brother at Cambridge. Here he was soon visited by Joseph Hill, an old London friend, who had been both a Westminster boy and a member of the Nonsense Club. Hill was an attorney, and took charge of Cowper's finances, and their correspondence chiefly relates to such matters. Here, too, a few weeks after, William Unwin, a young man fresh from Cambridge, sought him out, perhaps from knowing his brother John, and introduced him to his family, consisting of his sister, a girl of eighteen, his father, the Rev. Morley Unwin, and his mother, Mary Unwin, whose name will never be forgotten while Cowper's poetry and letters are read. She was ' often his nurse,' was • his kindest friend in a thousand adversities,' ' was of a very uncommon understanding,' 'had read much to excellent purpose,' and * was more polite than a duchess,' and, better than all, they were of one faith, and had been baptized with the same baptism. A month later, Nov. 11, 1765, he became resident with them as lodger and boarder, one of Mr. Unwin's pupils having vacated his rooms. His life here flowed on easy and tranquil, with walks and talks, music and a little gardening. He allowed his friends, with too great facility, to provide for his expenses with the Unwins. It never occurred to him that it was unmanly. He was indeed too read; to give, and although his tastes were simple to an extreme, yet money inexplicably slipped through his fingers. In this pleasant and pious life his mind recovered its former tone. His letters to Mrs. Major Cowper. Hill, Lady Hesketh, and others, display that cheerful, and even playful spirit that always marks Cowper at his best ; and this, united to their prattling, although easy and graceful style, have made them perhaps the most charming letters in the language. LIFE OF COWPER. V. nth lent /ing lith Inds, /ins. too yet )ne. kers, /per land IS in Mr. Unwin was killed by a fall from his horse in July, 1767. It was his desire that Cowper should still reside with the family, and in September of the same year they removed to Olney, in Buckingham- shire, their sole motive being their desire to be under the pastoral care of the Rev. Mr. Newton. This intensely evangelical and energetic divine had been a sailor of the most vicious habits, had been flogged for desertion, had been a slave in Sierra Leone, and, after his release, had been shipwrecked on his way home, barely escaping with his life. He thought this a special interposition of Providence. He was a changed man, and he resolved to lead a new life. He became the master of a vessel, and made several prosperous voyages, for which he never forgot devoutly to thank the Lord. This was about the year 1750, and one can form some idea of the deadness of public opinion on the subject when we say that the trade in which he was engaged was the slave trade. The character of Newton was intense, but narrow ; his friendship was, no doubt, sincere, but it was not always discreet or beneficial. He dragged Cowper, to wnom retirement and quiet were necessities, into parochial work, visiting the poor, attending the sick, and praying by their bedsides. A year or two after, Newton induced him to join in writing the Olney Hymns, which took eight years for their completion, on account of the recurrence of his peculiar malady. Sixty-eight are Cowper's. That beautiful hymn, " God Moves in a Mysterious Way," was composed on the very eve of his second insanity. The old con- viction returned that God had doomed him to perdition. Newton and Mrs. Unwin were unremitting in their attention ; but he remained in a state of semi-imbecility for some years, occupying himself with his carpentry, his hares, his gardening, and some light literary labor. In 1780 Mr. Newton moved to London, having shortly before published the Olney Hymns; but the times seemed unpropitious for much notice to be taken of them, and Cowper remained comparatively unknown to the world of letters. As his health improved he became more addicted to reading and writing. Some of his pleasant trifles, such as the Report of an Adjudged Case, date from this time, the beginning of 1780. These were followed, at Mrs. Unwin's suggestion, by the Progress of Error, Truth, Table- Talk, and Expostulation, in which the social and moral abuses of that age are censured with more sharpness of wit and abundance of invective than one would expect from such a timid and nervous recluse. These, with other poems, composed his first volume of 178a. Tht VI. LIFE OF COWPER. critical journals spoke with disapprobation, or with faint praise, of the book, and, what hurt Cowper most of all, some of his friends, as Thurlow and Colman, completely ignored it. Its style was in general vigorous and trenchant, and sometimes polished ; but it was too decidedly grave in tone. It was not popular, and the volume would not sell. It was reserved for another lady to bring him into fame. In the summer of 1781 Cowper had made the acquaintance of a baronet's widow. Lady Austen. The poet was delighted with her sprightly and agreeable disposition, and she seems to have been besides both generous and sensible. She suggested to him the first subject of The Task, viz.. The Sofa, also the translation of Homer, and told him the story of John Gilpin, whom Cowper afterwards immortalized in his ballad. She is said to have conceived a fondness for the poet, to have expected a proposal, and to have been jealous of Mrs. Unwin, who, we know, would have been married to him but for his third attack of insanity. But Cowper was merely platonic in his friendship, or else he loved his retirement and his literary work too well to exchange them for worldly gaieties.* So the proposal did not take place, probably was never thought of ; the relations between them became strained ; a rupture took place, and their intercourse entirely ceased. In 1784 yohn Gilpin had attained to immense popularity, and through it Cowper's name had become well-known. Thus The Task in 1785 was accorded a favorable reception, but by its own intrmsic merit secured and still maintains its position as one of the finest poems in the English language. The causes of its immediate success will be stated farther on. It is sufficient here to say that the condition of English poetry was such that Cowper had the field almost entirely to ♦ The editor of the Globe Edition seems to think that Cowper did respond to her affection, but that gratitude to Mrs. Unwin for her psst care forbade his marrying her, and to retain his old friend it was necessary to break off in'ercourse with the new. " He wrote a farewell letter to Lady Austen with a resolution and delicacy which did the highest honor to his feelings." Perhaps some readers may take a different view of these circumstances His treatment of Theodora, who remained in virgin cons'Micy to him till her death, while often relieving his necessities through her sister (Lady H ), his tame acceptance of these pecuniary helps, and others from his relatives, somewhat qualify our admiration for him, and remind us of the admixture of good and evil in human nature. Lady Austen showed Hayley some verses which seemed hardly capable of any construction but an amorous one. Mrs. Unwin might naturally be jealous, seeing Lady Austen was a woman of title, younger and more accomplished than hersel'. It is due to Cowper to say that in his letter to Lady Austen he seems to have unbosomed his real motives and feelings, and so satisfied her. LIFE OF COWPER. Vll. himself. That such success was due to his poetical power, and to bis excellence in treatment and choice of topic, is proved by the fact that his poetry is well-known to thousands to whom Dryden and Pope are familiar only as names, and to whom the minor poets of the artificial school are even by name completely unknown. The admiration drawn forth by the publication of The Task had the effect of renewing his intercourse with his relatives, for some years almost entirely broken off. Lady Hesketh, his cousin, was the first to write. In June, 1786, she paid him a visit, and discovered his weari- ne^aaof Olney and his longings for a little more intercourse with fellow- beings of the world to which he formerly belonged. Accordingly a house was taken at Weston-Underwood, belonging to the Throck- mortons, a Roman Catholic family whom Cowper had lately come to know, and to whom he became attached. Mr. Newton was highly displeased at their removal, and warned them of the danger of theii godless and gay company (the Throckmortons and Lady Hesketh). Cowper was very justly indignant, but remembered Newton's friend- ship and care in the past, and his reply breathes the very spirit of gentleness and Christian courtesy. They were scarcely in their new abode when William Unwin died. Of all Cowper's friends he seems to have been the nearest. During all these years they had been faithful correspondents. The grief occasioned by his death brought on a return of insanity, and for six months Cowper's mind was in such a state that he again attempted suicide, and this time nearly succeeded. But in June, 1787, he suddenly recovered, and immediately resumed his Homer, and his correspondence. While this was going on, he was also, by way of relaxation, composing some small pieces at the instance of Lady Hesketh. and others, as, for instance, those on the Slave Trade. The Homer appeared in 1791, and was received with great favor. But time has shown that although he may be more faithful, yet his bold and rugged version gives a less correct idea of the power and harmony of the original than even Pope's. His publisher now proposed an edition of Milton, but the labor of annotation was uncongenial, and after finishing the first two books the work was indefinitely postponed. Cowper began to show signs of a fresh attack; he had strange dreams; he heard voices in the night. Mrs. Unwin, too, was in failing health; she had already had two attacks of paralysis. In August, 1792, he and Mrs. Unwin paid a visit to Sussex to a Mr. Hayley, afterwards his biographer. After their Vlll. LIFE OF COWPER. return in September, Mrs. Unwin rapidly grew worse. Cowper was unremitting in his devotion to her ; the more exacting and petulant she became, the more tender and attentive he was, remembering, as he well might, the many years of faithful care she had given him. What a depth of sorrow he felt may be seen from his little poem entitled To Mary, full of the sweetest pathos and tenderness. Amidst these trials his own mind again gave way. While in this state a letter arrived announcing a pension from the Government of ;f 300, but he was kept in ignorance of the fact for some time. In the summer of 1795 .both were removed to Norfolk, in order that they should have the personal care of some of Cowper's maternal relatives, and finally to East Dereham, where Mrs. Unwin died on the 17th December, 1796. After the first paroxysm of grief was over, Cowper became calm and never afterwards referred to her by name. He in a feeble way went on revising his Homer, which he had begun in 1796, but did not com- plete till March, 1799. His letters to Lady Hesketh during this time show the gloom and despair settling down upon his mind. He was growing less and less capable of work. He still liked being read to, and would listen to his own poems, with the exception of yohn Gilpin. The Castaway was his last original poem ; only a few translations came from his pen afterwards. This was in January, 1800, and on the ist of February signs of dropsy made their appearance. A physician was called in, but the poet resolutely refused to take any medicine. He seemed in unutterable despair. When spoken to of the goodness of God, and of death as a happy release from misary, " he passionately entreated that no more such words should be spoken." Thus he lingered on, betwixt life and death, till April 25th, when the summons came. " From that moment," says the relative who loved iiin so well, •'until the coffin was closed, the expression into which his countenance had settled was that of calmness and composure, mingled, as it were, with holy surprise." Surprise, we hope, at finding in the eternity beyond, instead of the judgment and torment his timid soul had feared, a haven of rest and peace, dearer and more beautiful than even his beloved Olney. THE ARTIFICIAL SCHOOL. Pope was the head of what has been called the artificial, the classi- cal, and also the correct school. His verse had greater smoothness and regularity than Dryden's, and he brought the heroic couplet to such perfection that for didactic, satiric and argumentative poetry if THE LIFE OF COWPER. IX. has ever since remained the chief vehicle. The terms classical and correct do not here imply excellence, or conformity to rules founded in truth and the principles of human nature; for in the portrayal of character and the description of visible objects, the poets, both of Elizabeth's and of our own age, are far more correct than those of the times we speak of, either English or French. But by correctness is meant agreement with certain laws, narrow and irrational, which critics laid down for the government of poets. There must be a strict adherence to the dramatic unities; a line with a redundant syllable is proper only to the drama ; some pause or other must close each couplet ; a full stop is not admissible in the middle of a line ; and so on. Pope had hosts of imitators as to form, and Cowper, although admiring him, complains that he had ** Made poetry a mere mechanic art. And every warbler has his tune by heart ; Manner is all in all whate'er is writ, The substitute for genius, taste, and wit." But they imitated poorly his polished antithesis, his biting sarcasm. his stinging and pointed wit, his wonderful command of choice and vigorous English. The thirty or forty years that follow the death of Pope, the period of DECAY OF THE CLASSICAL SCHOOL, are, as regards poetry, the most deplorable of our literary history. " They have indeed bequeathed to us scarcely any poetry that deserves to be remembered. Two or three hundred lines of Gray, twice as m" ny of Goldsmith, a few stanzas of Beattie and Collins, a few strophes of Mason, and a few clever prologues and satires were the masterpieces of this age of consummate excellence." Poetry was every year becoming feebler and more mechanical, and the monotony of the rhyming couplet, which Pope had redeemed by his brilliant wit and compactness of expression, was rendered still less endurable by quaint allusion, by the constant recurrence of the same images, and by absurd periphrases. The sun was " Phoebus," or the "orb of day ; ' the moon was *' Diana," or the "lamp of night ; " the sky was "the blue immense." "Naiads" and "nymphs" and " swains " were the stock-in-trade of the poets. The north wind was "Boreas," the west was "a gentle zephyr;" tea was "an infusion of China's herb," and coffee "the fragrant juice of Mocha's kernel gray." Again, the subjects chosen were unfavourable to the cultivation of the true poetic spirit. Satires were common, but displayed more bitterneu X. THE LIFE OF COWPER. and party rancor than virtuous indignation. Moral essays, sentimental reflections, translations, and dissertations were common enough in verse. But of aught that might be called good description, or thai would stir the emotions, there was almost nothing. At last the evil began to abate. People began to weary of a standard of criticism not derived from nature or reason, of the dead level of dull uniformity which was in all the volumes of the Pyes, the Pratts, and the Hayleys.' The publication of Warton's History of Poetry, and especially of Percy's Reliques, helped forward the REVIVAL OF THE NATIONAL TASTE for the poetry of passion and fancy, for the romantic and natural rather than the artificial. The plays of Shakespeare were again being studied. Carefully edited editions had been published, and the acting of Mrs. Gibber and Garrick was also assisting to make them popular. The success of the forgeries of Macpherson and Chatterton sufficiently indicates the trend of the new interest that wa^ rising. In this con- nection Taine says, speaking of the influence of the French Revolution on England: "English Jacobinism was taken by the throat and held down, yet the revolution made its entrance. It was not social ideas that were transformed, as in France, nor philosophical ideas, as in Germany, but literary ideas. The great rising tide of the modern mind, which elsewhere overturned the whole edifice of human con- ditions and speculations, succeeded here in only changing style and taste." In addition to these causes we must add the vivifying power, the earnestness and directness which the great religious revival infused into the literature of that day, and especially into Cowper's poetry. Cowper broke boldly through the conventions and usages of the versifiers. He announced his principles as to style and versification in his own poem, Table-Talk, and expressed his contempt for that " creamy smoothness " in which sense was often " Sacrificed to sound. And truth cut short to make a period round." " Give me," he says — " Give me the line that ploughs its stately course ^ Like a proud swan, conquering the stream by force, That, like some cottage beauty, strikes the heart, Quite unindebted to the tricks of art." * Wm. Hayley, Cowper's biographer. T THE LIFE OF COWFER. XI. 4 M M Thomson had been fortunate in his choice of The Seusvns as his subject ; but even his great power of description, and his grand pictures of natural scenery, are disfigured by bombastic commonplaces, by classical allusions and method of treatment, and by absurd manner- isms, showing the influence of the age upon him. The Night Thoughts, although containing some passages of gloomy grandeur of imagination, and not written in the conventional form, was too religious for the popular taste, and besides is not free from the faults of excessive declamation, of a style evidently studied for effect, and of a mingling of classical and Christian ideas that is sometimes a little ridiculous. Collins and Gray, both possessed of exquisite genius, and the first poetic artists of their day, were also unfortunate in a choice of subjects that awakened little interest. Goldsmith had written little, and even that little, although sweet and natural, was too timid in its originality to constitute him the head of a new school. Robert Burns, indeed, full of nature and imaginative fire, the greatest peasant-poet of any age or country, issued his first volume in 1786 ; but his dialect was unintelligible to Englishmen, and his influence for good con- sequently small. Thus it was reserved for the shy and melancholy recluse of Olney to become the pioneer of the new taste. And the direct simplicity of his style, the earnestness of his convictions, and the noble aims of his poetry, gave an impetus to that revolution in taste which in the next twenty years after his death was fully consummated. THE STATE OF SOCIETY. The morality of this period was essentially low, for English society had not yet recovered from the taint of the Restoration. It is true the open profligacy of former times was somewhat abating, and the stage was becoming more decent, thanks to the vigorous onslaught of Collier. In comedy the plays of Cumberland (1732-1811), the elder Colman, Cowper's schoolmate, and of Brinsley Sheridan, pay this homage at least to propriety that the dialogue is less gross, and without a moral outraging every principle of virtue paraded at the close. But the tendency still was to make heroes of their profligates, and in the Rivals and the School for Scandal, some of the characters are evidently copied from Smollett and Fielding. In the political world Walpole had con- trived, by his unblushing bribery, to sear the public conscience; power and place must be obtained, honestly if possible, but at any rate obtained. It was an age of venality, of open profligacy or thinly Xll. THE LIFE OF COWPER. veneered vice among the upper classes, and the lower classes were sunk in ignorance. The writings of Pope satirized the fashionable follies of the day. The essays of the Tatler, the Spectator, the Idler, and the Rambler countenanced virtue and discountenanced vice. They, no doubt, banished by their wit and sarcasm many a fashionable folly. But although their purpose was as noble as it was novel among polite ftuthors, yet their influence was comparatively superficial. It fell infinitely short of what was necessary for the regeneration of this age ; it was moral, but not religious. It lacked those great evangelical truths which constitute the vital force of Christianity. Most of all, the Church was spiritually dead. The English Deists, like Collins andTindal, had pronounced Christianity to be mere priest- craft, and had perhaps imparted the first movement to the irreligious tendency in France. Even among the orthodox clergy, ignorance in the lower, and indifference in the higher, was the rule. Engaged in the pleasures of the table or the field, reading moral essays, or dis- cussing the origin of religion, the saving of souls seldom entered their minds. Cowper was particularly severe on the parson of those days (Winter Evening, 595), and he well deserved the severity. The upper classes sneered at piety as fanaticism or cant ; they prided themselves on being above it. Among the middle classes, the moral forces, which had been sub- merged in the flood of licentiousness which came over with Charles II., were not completely extinct. Among them chiefly took place that great revival which was begun by the Wesley s and Whitefield, and which had, as the result of its influence, the inception of the Sunday School, the reformation of our prisons, the abolition of" slavery, the freedom from religious disability, and the elevation and education of the working classes. THE RELIGIOUS ELEMENT IN COWPER is decidedly evangelical. He shared his pastor's interest in the move- ment, he defended Whitefield,'* the Calvinistic champion, at a time when the current literature and the theatre were holding him up to ridicule. He did not disguise his religious principles,. He was the first English poet (not a mere hymn* writer) to tune his lyre to such sentiments. In *" Leuconomus (beneath well-sounding Greek). I slur a name a poet must not speak, Stood pilloried on infamy's high stage. And bore the pelting scorn of halt an age." —Hope, 554, et %eq. THE LIFE OF COWPER. XIU. fact Cowper has been called the poet of English household life, and also of English Methodism. In The Task we find his religious convictions put with less vehem- ence and passion, and although no essentials are given up and no principles evaded, yet the doctrinal strain is not so long sustained as in his first volume. His colloquial freedom of style, and the occasional kindly satire, lend a lightness to his deeper shades of thought. The serious nature of Cowper 's poetry, and the loftiness of its aim, have tended to make poetry popular among those classes that seldom read it. The religious world has found him a powerful ally. Milton's poetry was religious, but was too grandly imaginative for the popular mind ; but the serious and downright character of the average English- man finds something intelligible and satisfying in the pages of Cowper, enlivened, as they are, with occasional humor as a seasonable sauce to the graver parts. CHARACTERISTICS OF COWPER. 1. Cowper is intensely English and national. One would scarcely discover from his writings the existence of a world beyond the Channel. There is a certain insularity of tone which charms English and (not so much) Scotch or Irish readers. He is not a great favorite with foreigners, because the vices, laws, customs, institutions, and scenes he discusses are so distinctively English and local, eg., the lines on bribery, the parson acting as magistrate, the postman's arrival, the beershops, the Biblical allusions, and his delightful topography of the Olney neighborhood. Besides, he has often a positive and dogmatic manner, a John Bullishness, which characterizes too many upright downright Englishmen. See his remarks on the militia, and on the astronomers, though the latter may be due to the somewhat narrowing influence of his religious associations. 2. Note hib minuteness and faithfulness in description, e.g., the waggoner's cot, the robbery of the hen-roost, the newspaper's contents, and the cucumber frames. Wilson says, contrasting Thomson and Cowper: "Thomson's genius does not so often delight us by exquisite minute touches in the description of nature as that of Cowper. Cowper sets nature before your eyes, Thomson before your imagination- Thomson paints in a few wondrous lines rivers from source to sea, like the mighty Burrampooter. Cowper, in many no very wondrous lines, brightens up one bend of a stream, or awakens our fancy to the murmur of some single waterfall." XIV. TIIK LIFE OF COWPER. 'li;. 3. His poetry must be called subjective, because we gather from it a knowledge of the writer's mental character, and his attitude on various points. There are some poems, like the Iliad and the Lady oj the Lake, from which we get (unless indirectly) no idea of the person- ality of the author. But in Cowper the ego is apparent throughout, and always with a manly and independent spirit that we admire, but sometimes with a want of charity for others' opinions, due to his hermit-like life. If, however, he had come more in contact with the world, the natural kindliness of his nature would have considerably lessened the gloom and asperity of some parts of his poems. The student however, must not hastily conclude that Cowper was an egotist merely because he sees him use the pronoun / frequently, and make statements somewhat positively. Such is far from being the truth. He never makes himself the hero of his poetry, and although he is present to the mind throughout, yet one is conscious that he is not thinking of himself, but only anxious to convince and benefit his readers. 4. Cowper is original and individual. In his earlier poetry, to avoid the smoothness and tricks of the artificial school, which he scorned, he had imitated Churchill's vehement invective, and to a less extent his rudeness and ruggedness of expression ; but in The Task he trusts no longer to mere force. He himself speaks of " The shifts and turns, The expedients and inventions multiform, To which the mind resorts in chase of terms." litr' Consequently The Task, although in a manner as distinctively his own as Milton's or Thomson's, is possessed of great artistic merit. Thomson had the same inflated style for a winter storm or a fox-hunt ; but notice the grace and ease with which Cowper descends to a more sarcastic, colloquial and idiomatic style, when speaking of the sage erudite, the Frenchified lass, the frequenters of the pot-house, etc He read little, only a few books of travel and biography. He tells William Unwin that he had read no English poet these thirteen years, and thinks himself fortunate. It was, therefore, impossible he could be either copyist or imitator. No poet is freer from affectation, from abstruse classical allusion, and from vain conceits of style. Cowper was one of the earliest to discover that there is other material for poetry than that of ancient superstitions, of wars and knight-errantry, and middle- age romance. The commonest objects and the humblest condition of life can be made, and ought to be made, the subject of ennobling and ! i! I ft THE LIFE OF COWPER. XV, t^levating verse. There is not much of the picturesque or poetical about the ordinary postman, or waggoner ; but Cowper has managed to make them the subject of some beautiful and interesting lines. It is true that when he attempts the extraction of poetry from cucumbers, we feel he is less successful on such an unpromising and indigestible theme; but we must view leniently such occasional failures, recognizing them as part of a great and good work, the mutiny against the arti- ficiality, the falseness, and the affectation of the previous school. 5. Eminent as Cowper is for piety, and for the beauty and clearness of his pictures of natural scenery, we find he often exhibits a quiet sarcasm, and a vein of humor which lightens and relieves the general gravity of the poem. In The Task, cheerfulness is the prevailing trait, and he far less rarely drops into the gloom and pessimism of his earlier poems. Even the satire is good-natured. It is not the Horatian satire, but satire that becomes a Christian poet, who hates the sin, but loves the sinner. Note the cheerful opening to the Garden, the neat witticism, Gari6Mr^A Revitw. Thomson is sometimes sublime. But he knows less of his subject than Cowper, and is often vague, indistinct, and untrue. Cowper never is. Every picture is clear and minute. As he says in one of his letters, he describes only what he sees, and takes nothing at second- hand. Ignorance of any other language is said to give a great reader unusual command of his own, and Cowper's was a case like this. — Pref., Qlohe Ed. If in Thomson you are sometimes offended with the slovenliness of the author by profession, determined to get through his task at all events, in Cowper you are no less dissatisfied with the finicalness of the private gentleman, who does not care whether he completes his work or not, and in whatever he does is evidently more solicitous to please himself than the public. There is an efTeminacy about him, too, which shrinks from and repels common heart-sympathy. He has some of the sickly sensibility and pampered refinement of Pope ; but then Pope prided himself in them, whereas Cowper affects to be all simplicity and plainness. He had neither Thomson's love of the unadorned beauties of nature, noi Pope's exquisite sense of the elegances of art. Still, he is a genuine poet, and deserves all his repu- tation. His religious poetry, except where it takes a tincture of con- troversial heat, wants elevation and fire. — Haxhtt's Lectures. Impressions small to us were great to him ; and in a room, a garden, he found a world. In his eyes the smallest objects were poetica* ; he discovers beauty and harmony in the coals of a sparkling fire, or the movement of fingers over a piece of woolwork. Is the kitchen garden poetical ? To-day, perhaps ; but to-morrow, if my imagination be barren, I shall see there nothing but carrots and other kitchen stuff. It is my feelings which are poetical, which I must respect, as the most precious flower of beauty. Hence a new style. — Taine. These great men (Cowper and Aliieri) were not free from affectation. But their affectation was directly opposed to the affectation which XVIU. THE LIFE OF COWPER. generally prevailed. Each of them expressed in strong and bitter language the contempt which he felt for the effeminate poetasters who were in fashion both in England and in Italy. In their hatred of meretricious ornament, and of what Cowper calls 'creamy smooth- ness," they erred on the opposite side. Their style was too austere, their versification too harsh. It is not easy to overrate the service which they rendered to literature. The part which they performed was rather that of Moses than that of Joshua. They opened the house of bondage, but they did not enter the promised land. — Macaulay. It is simply the fact that women did greatly admire him. And herein we have a striking evidence of the force and manliness of his character. No woman ever admires an effeminate man. Though it be but in the matter of physical strength and muscular development, there must be some point in which the woman feels herself constrained to look up to the man as her superior, before she will yield to him her worship and her love. And women like an Unwin, an Austen, or a Hesketh, must meet with an exalted type of masculine superiority ere they become sensible that they have found their master. — Griffith, PASSAGES SUGGESTED FOR MEMORIZING. GARDEN. LI. I-20, 108-120, 180-209, 235-247, 290-292, 352-360, 662-6601 835-848. WINTER EVENING. LI. 1-22, 36-56, 88-97, IO7-II9, 120-143, 243-266, 302-310, 333-340. 374-390, 534-552. 623-658, 731-747- CHARACTERISTICS OF POETIC DICTION.* I. It is archaic and non-colloquial. (a) Poetry, being less conversational than prose, is less affected by the changes of a living language, and more afifected by the language and traditions of the poetry of past ages. (b) Not all words are adapted for metre. (c) Certain words and forms, being constantly repeated by suc- cessive poets, acquire poetic associations, and become part of the common inheritance of poets. 2 It is more picturesque than prose. (a) It prefers specific and vivid terms to generic and vague ones. (b) It often substitutes an epithet for the thing denoted. Note.— Distinguish between ornamental epithets, added merely to give color and life, and essential epithets, necessary to convey the proper meaning. 3. It is averse to lengthiness. (a) It avoids the use of conjunctions, relative pronouns, and auxiliaries. (b) It substitutes epithets and compounds for phrases and clauses. (c) It avoids long commonplace words. Note. — Sometimes, however, for picturesqueness or euphony, it substitutes a periphrasis for a word. (d) It makes a freer use of ellipsis. 4. It is more euphonious than prose. 5. It employs inversions not allowable in prose. 6. It employs figures of speech more freely than prose. CHRONOLOGICAL PARALLEL. Author's Life. ii^ Cowper b. Nov. 26. . • • • • • • • • • .... I His mother d., sent to) a private school , j ^*^» • • • • • 39 j '731- 32- 33. 35- 37. 38. At Westminster School 40. 41. 42. 43- 44. 45. 46. 48. At the Middle Temple 49. 50. 51- 53- 54- 56. 57- 58. 59- 60. 61. 62. 63 64. 65- First attack. . Called to the Bar. His father d. At Inner Temple At Dr. Cotton's Asy- lum . * • • * At Huntingdon with the Unwins . Events, Literary and General. Defoe d. Gay d. Essay on Man, Walpole's Excise Bill. Wesley's ace. Oglethorpe to Georgia, Pope's Moral Essays. Hume's Treatise on Human Nature, Porteous Riots. Whitefield in America. Wesley's real conversion, begins the itinerary, War with Spain. Wesley and Whitefield separate, Pamela. The Schoolmistress, Hume's Essays, yoseph Andrews. Pelham in office, Dettingen. Pope d., the Night Thoughts. Swift d.. Walpole d., Fontenoy. Ode on the Passions, Culloden. Thomson d.. Castle of Indolence, Clarissa Harlowe, Roderick Random, Tr. of Aix-la-Chapelle. Vanity of Human Wishes, Irene, Tom yones. The Rambler, The Elegy. Reform of the calendar. Fielding d., Hume's History. Colonial wars with France begin. Plassey, Adm. Byng shot. Johnson's Idler. Robertson's Hist, of Scotland, Tristram Shandy, Quebec taken. Poems of Ossian, Churchill's Rosciad. Richardson d., Citizen of the World Bute premier, Wilkes and theN. Briton. Literary clubs founded, Grenville Minis- try, Tr. of Paris. Horace Walpole's Otranto. Percy's Reliques, Young d., Rockingham in office, Stamp Act. XX. !;;■ CHRONOLOGICAL PARALLEL. XXI. CHRONOLOGICAL PARALLEL- Con/wiM^rf. Author's Life. 1766. 67. Settles at Olney 6g. . . • 70. . . « . 71. .... . 72. Coleridge b., 21st Oct. 73. Cowper's 3rd derange ment . 74' * * * *• * 76. . . • • 79. Coleridge's father d.,) Events, Literary and general. Vicar of Wakefield, Mosaic Ministry. Letters of yunius, Robertson's Hisiorj of Charles V. Deserted Village. Scott b., Beattie's Minstrel. She Stoops to Conquer. Warton's Hist, of Eng. Poetry, Clive d. Wealth of Nations, Decline and Fall. Decl. of Independence by U. S. ,, , „ \^ r Carrick d. Olney Hymns pub. j 80 iGordon Riots. 81. Coleridge's mother d. jCrabbe's Library. 82. Cowper's ist vol. poems! j I Independence of U. S. acknowledged, ^3- • . • • \ Tr. of Versailles. 84. 85. The Task 86. Cowper at Weston 87. Cowper's 4th derange-] ment ... J 88 89. .... go. ..... 91. Coleridge at Jesus Col-1 lege, Cowper's trans- lation of Homer. \ Q-2. Cowper again deranged 93. Coleridge enlists 94. Cowper's ;^300 pension 95. Coleridge marries, , Cowper removed to Norfolk 96. Coleridge's ist vol., death of Mrs. Unwin 97. ist part Christabel written, Ode to France 98. Coleridge visits Ger- many, Anc. Mariner published, with Johnson d., Pitt's India Bill. Burns' Poems, Hastings' trial began. French Revolution. Burke's Reflections. Wesley d. The Pleasures of Memory. Wordsworth's Evening' Walk, Reign of Terror. Gibbon d. Macpherson d. Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads, Irish Rebellion. XXll. CHRONOLOGICAL PARALLEL. CHRONOLOGICAL PARALLEL— Continued. Author's Life. 1799. 1800. 2. 4- 5. 7. 8. 9-10. 12. 13- 14. 15- 16. 17. 18. 25- 27. 28. 29. 30. 32. 33- Cowper d. at Dereham, 2nd part Christabel written, Wallenstein In Lake District j At Keswick At Malta, as Secretary Lectures on Poetry ) and Fine Arts | The Friend At Mr. Oilman's. Christabel pub. , Lay Sermons Sibylline Leaves, Bio- graphia Liter aria Lectures. Aids to Reflection, ) pension of /105 ) Complete ed.of poems 34. Coleridge d. 25th July Events, Literary and General. Campbell's Pleasures of Hope. Moore's Aruureon. Southey's Thalaba, Union of British and Irish Parliaments. Tr. of Amiens. Lay of Last Minstrel. Trafalgar, Austerlitz. Hours of Idleness, Crabbe's Parish Register, Irish Melodies begun. Shelley's Queen Mab, Curse of Kehama. Childe Harold, 1st two cantos. Southey's Life of Nelson. Crabbe's Tales of the Hall, Waverley, The Excursion, Tr. of Ghent. Waterloo. • Lalla Rookk. Childe Harold complete, Endymion. Macaulay's Milton. Independence of Greece. R. C. Emancipation Bill. Tennyson's ist volume. Reform Bill. Tennyson's Lady of Shalott, and Lotos Eaters, ^artor Resartus, Emancipa- tion of slaves. I i '1 THE TASK. BOOK III. THE GARDEN. The Poet Returns to his Favorite Theme. As one, who, long in thickets and in brakes Entangled, winds now this way and now that His devious course uncertain, seeking home ; Or, having long in miry ways been foiled And sore discomfited, from slough to slough Plunging, and half despairing of escape, If chance at length he find a greensward smooth And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise, He cherups brisk his ear-erectmg steed, And winds his v/ay with pleasure and with ease ; So I, designing other themes, and called To adorn the Sofa with eulogium due, To tell its slumbers and to paint its dreams, Have rambled wide : in country, city, seat Of academic fame (howe'er deserved) Long held, and scarcely disengaged at last. But now with pleasant pace, a cleanlier road I mean to tread. I feel myself at large. Courageous, and refreshed for future toil. If toil awaits me, or if dangers new. Since pulpits fail, and sounding-boards reflect Most part an empty ineffectual sound, What chance that I, to fame so little known. 10 2 THE TASK. Nor conversant with men or manners much, Should speak to purpose, or with better hope Crack the satiric thong ? 'Twere wiser far For me, enamoured of sequestered scenes, And charmed with rural beauty, to repose. Where chance may throw me, beneath elm or vine, My languid limbs, when summer sears the plains ; Or when rough winter rages, on the soft And sheltered Sofa, while the nitrous air Feeds a blue flame and makes a cheerful hearth ; There, undisturbed by Folly, and apprized How great the danger of disturbing her, To muse in silence, or at least confine Remarks that gall so many to the few, My partners in retreat. Disgust concealed Is ofttimes proof of wisdom, when the fault Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach. ao * 4^ Domestic Happiness the Great Safeguard against Vice. Domestic happiness, thou only bliss Of Paradise that has survived the fall ! Though few now taste thee unimpaired and pure, Or, tasting, long enjoy thee, too infirm Or too incautious to preserve thy sweets Unmixt with drops of bitter, which neglect Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup : Thou art the nurse of Virtue. In thine arms She smiles, appearing, as in truth she is, Heaven-born and destined to the skies again. Thou art not known where Pleasure is adored, That reeling goddess with the zoneless waist And wandering eyes, still leaning on the arm Of Novelty, her fickle, frail support ; r THE GARDEN. ne, :£iinst fiO For thou art meek and constant, hating change, And finding in the calm of truth-tried love Joys that her stormy raptures never yield. Forsaking thee, what shipwreck have we made Of honor, dignity, and fair renown ; Till prostitution elbows us aside In all our crowded streets, and senates seeni Convened for purposes of empire less, Than to release the adult 'ress from her bond. The adult'ress ! what a theme for angry verse ! What provocation to the indignant heart That feels for injured love ! but I disdam The nauseous task to paint her as she is, Cruel, abandoned, glorying in her shame. No. Let her pass, and charioted along In guilty splendor shake the public ways ; The frequency of crimes has washed them white, And verse of mine shall never brand the wretch, Whom matrons now, of character unsmirched, And chaste themselves, are not ashamed to own. Virtue and vice had boundaries in old time, Not to be passed ; and she that had renounced Her sex's honor, was renounced herself By all that prized it ; not for prudery's sake, But dignity's, resentful of the wrong. 'Twas hard, perhaps, on here and there a waif Desirous to return, and not received ; But was a wholesome rigor in the main, And taught the unblemished to preserve with care That purity, whose loss was loss of all. Men too were nice in honor in those days. And judged offenders well. Then he that ''harped. And pocketed a prize by fraud obtained, Was marked and shunned as odious. He that sold 80 't THE TALK. His country, or was slack when she required His every nerve in action and at stretch, Pairl with the blood that he had basely spared The price of his default. But now, — yes, now, We are become so candid and so fair, So liberal in construction, and so rich In Christian charity, (good-natured age !) That they are safe, sinners of either sex, Transgress what laws they may. Well dressed, well bred, Well equipaged, is ticket good enough To pass us readily through every door. Hypocrisy, detest her as we may, (And no man's hatred ever wronged her yet,) May claim this merit still — that she admits The worth of what she mimics with such care, And thus gives Virtue indirect applause ; But she has burnt her mask, not needed here. Where Vice has such allowance, that her shifts And specious semblances have lost their use. 100 The Wounded Deer and its Healer. 1 was a stricken deer that left the herd Long since ; with many an arrow deep infixed My panting side was charged, when I withdrew To seek ri tranquil death in distant shades. There was I found by One who had Himself Been hurt by the archers. In His side He bore, And in His hands and feet, the cruel scars. With gentle force soliciting the darts, He drew them forth, and healed and bade me live. Since then, with few associates, in remote And silent woods I wander, far from those My former partners of the peopled scene, With few associates, and not wishing more. lU 190 THE GARDEN. 100 110 190 Here much I ruminate, as much I may, With other views of men and manners now Than once, and others of a life to come. The Vanities and Vain Pursuits of Life. I see that all are wanderers, gone astray Each in his own delusions ; they are lost In chase of fancied happiness, still wooed And never won. Dream after dream ensues. And still they dream that they shall still succeed, And still are disappointed ; rings the world With the vain stir. I sum up half mankind And add two-thirds of the remaining half. And find the total of their hopes and fears Dreams, empty dreams. The million flit as gay As if created only like the fly That spreads his motley wings in the eye of noon, To sport their season, and be seen no more. The rest are sober dreamers, grave and wise. And pregnant with discoveries new and rare. Some write a narrative of wars, and feats Of heroes little known, and call the rant A history ; describe the man, of whom His own coevals took but little note, And paint his person, character, and views. As they had known him from his mother's womb. They disentangle from the puzzled skein. In which obscurity has wrapped them up, The threads of politic and shrewd design That ran through all his purposes, and charge His mind with meanings that he never had, Or having, kept concealed. Some drill and bore The solid earth, and from the strata there Extract a register by which we learn ? m ( m i 6 THE TASK. That He who made it, and revealed its date To Moses, was mistaken in its age. Some, more acute and more industrious still, Contrive creation ; travel Nature up To the sharp peak of her sublimest height, And tell us whence the stars ; why some are fixed, And planetary some ; what gave them first Rotation, from what fountain flowed their light. Great contest follows, and much learned dust Involves the combatants, each claiming truth. And truth disclaiming both : and thus they spend The little wick of life's poor shallow lamp In playing tricks with nature, giving laws To distant worlds, and trifling in their own. Is't not a pity now, that tickling rheums Should ever tease the lungs and blear the sight Of oracles like these ? Great pity too, That having wielded the elements, and built A thousand systems, each in his own way, They should go out in fume and be forgot ? Ah ! what is life thus spent ? and what are they But frantic who thus spend it all for smoke ? Eternity for bubbles proves at last A senseless bargain. When I see such games Played by the creatures of a Power who swears That He will judge the earth, and call the fool To a sharp reckoning that has lived in vain, And when I weigh this seeming wisdom well, And prove it in the infallible result So hollow and so false — I feel my heart Dissolved in pity, and account the learned. If this be learning, most of all deceived. Great crimes alarm the conscience, but it sleeps While thoughtful man is plausibly amused. m IM liSBwa THE GARDEN. " Defend me therefore, common sense," say I, "'From reveries so airy, from the toil Of dropping buckets into empty wells, And growing o'-! in drawing nothing up I " im Sympathy for Humanity not Learned. Confined to the ** 'Twere well," says one sage erudite, profoumi, Terribly arched and aquiline his nose. And overbuilt with most impending brows — '* 'Twere well could you permit the world to live As the world pleases. What's the world tp you ? " Much. I was born of woman, and drew milk As sweet as charity, from human breasts. I think, articulate, I laugh and weep And exercise all functions of a man. How then should I and any man that lives Be strangers to each other ? Pierce my vein, Take of the crimson stream meandering there, And catechise it well. Apply thy glass, Search it, and prove now if it be not blood Congenial with thine own ; and if it be, What edge of subtlety canst thou suppose Keen enough, wise and skilful as thou art. To cut the link of brotherhood, by which One common Maker bound me to the kind ? True , I am no proficient, I confess, In arts like yours. I cannot call the swift And perilous lightnings from the angry clouds. And bid them hide themselves in the earth beneath I cannot analyse the air, nor catch The parallax of yonder luminous point That seems half quenched in the immense abyss : Such powers I boast not — neither can I rest ano 210 8 THE TASK. A silent witness of the hcadloufj; iafi;e Or heedless folly by whieh thousands die, Bone of my bone, and kindred souls to mine. Science and Philosophy Should be Guided by Piety and Reverence for God's Word. God never meant that man should scale the heavens By strides of human wisdom. In His works, Though wondrous, He commands us in His word To seek Him rather where His mercy shines. The mind indeed, enlightened from above, Views Him in all ; ascribes to the grand cause The grand effect ; acknowledges with joy His manner, and with rapture tastes His style. But never yet did philosophic tube, That brings the planets home into the eye sso Of observation, and discovers, else Not visible. His family of worlds, Discover Him that rules them ; such a veil Hangs over mortal eyes, blind fiom the birth, And dark in things divine. Full often too Our wayward intellect, the more we learn Of Nature, overlooks her Author more ; From instrument a i causes proud to draw Conclusions retrograde, and mad mistake. But if His word once teach us, shoot a ray tio Through all the heart's dark chambers, anil reveal Truths undiscerned but by that holy light, Then all is plain. Philosophy, baptised In the pure fountain of eternal love, Has eyes indeed ; and, viewing all she sees As meant to indicate a God to man, Gives Him His praise, and forfeits not her own. Learning has borne such fruit in other days if! THE GARDEN. On all her branches. Piety has found Friends in the friends of science, and true prayer Has flowed from lips wet with Castalian dews. Such was thy wisdom, Newton, childlike sage 1 Sagacious reader of the works of God, And in His word sagacious. Such too thine, Milton, whose genius had angelic wings. And fed on manna. And such thine, in whom Our British Themis gloried with just cause, Immortal Hale ! for deep discernment praised, And sound' integrity, not more than famed For sanctity of manners undefiled. ttO SUM All is Fleetingr but Virtue and Truth. All flesh is grass, and all its glory fades Like the fair flower dishevelled in the wind ; Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream ; The man we celebrate must find a tomb. And we that worship him, ignoble graves. Nothing is proof against the general curse Of vanity, that seizes all below. The only amaranthine flower on earth Is virtue ; the only lasting treasure, truth. But what is truth ? 'Twas Pilate's question put To Truth itself, that deigned him no reply. And wherefore ? will not God impart His light To them that ask it ? — Freely — 'tis His joy, His glory, and His nature to impart. But to the proud, uncandid, insincere, Or negligent inquirer, not a spark. What's that which brings contempt upon a book And him that writes it, though the style be neat, The method clear, and argument exact ? That makes a minister in holy things tio 10 THE TASK. II The joy of many, and the dread of more, His name a theme for praise and for reproach ? That, while it gives us worth in God's account, Depreciates and undoes us in our own ? What pearl is it that rich men cannot buy. That learning is too proud to gather up, But which the poor and the despised of all Seek and obtain, and often find unsought ? Tell me, and I will tell thee what is truth. Praise of Domestic Life. Oh friendly to the best pursuits of man. Friendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace, Domestic life in rural leisure passed ! Few know thy value, and few taste thy sweets, Though many boast thy favors, and affect To, understand and choose thee for their own. But foolish man foregoes his proper bliss. Even as his first progenitor, and quits, Though placed m paradise, (for earth has still Some traces of her youthful beauty left,) Substantial happiness for transient joy. Scenes formed for contemplation, and to nurse The growing seeds of wisdom ; that suggest, By every pleasing image they present, Reflections such as meliorate the heart. Compose the passions, and exalt the mind ; The Barbarities of Sportsmen. Scenes such as these, 'tis his supreme delight To fill with riot, and defile with blood. Should some contagion, kind to the poor brutes We persecute, annihilate the tribes That draw th:i sportsman over hill and dale aw SOI THE GARDEN. 11 »o 300 no Fearless, and rapt away from all his cares ; Should never game-fowl hatch her eggs again, Nor baited hook deceive the fish's eye ; Could pageantry and dance and feast and song Be quelled in all our summer-months* retreats ; How many self-deluded nymphs and swains, Who dream they have a taste for fields and groves. Would find them hideous nurseries of the spleen, And crowd the roads, mipatient for the town ! They love the country, and none else, who seek For their own sake its silence and its shade ; Delights which who would leave, that has a heart Susceptible of pity, or a mind Cultured and capable of sober thought, For all the savage din of the swift pack, And clamors of the field ? Detested sport. That owes its pleasures to another's pain, That feeds upon the sobs and dying shrieks Of harmless nature, dumb, but yet endued With eloquence that agonies inspire. Of silent tears and heart-distending sighs ! Vain tears, alas ! and sighs that never find A corresponding tone in jovial souls. Well, — one at least is safe. One sheltered hare Has never heard the sanguinary yell Of cruel man, exulting in her woes. Innocent partner of my peaceful home, Whom ten long years' experience of my care Has made at last familiar, she has lost Much of her vigilant instinctive dread, Not needful here, beneath a roof like mine. Yes, — thou may'st eat thy brer^d, and lick the hand That feeds thee ; thou may'st frolic on the floor At evening, and at night retire secure rst Km m 12 THE TASK. To thy straw-couch, and slumber unalarmed ; For I have gained thy confidence, have pledged All that is human in me, to protect Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love. If I survive thee I will dig thy grave. And when I place thee in it, sighing say, I knew at least one hare that had a friend. 8U M A Life of Retirement need not be an Idle one. How various his employments whom the world Calls idle, and who justly in return Esteems that busy world an idler too ! Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen, Delightful industry enjoyed at home, And Nature in her cultivated trim Dressed to his taste, inviting him abroad — Can he want occupation who has these ? Will he be idle who has much to enjoy ? Me, therefore, st. pilous of laborious ease, Not slothful, happy to deceive the time, Not waste it, and aware that human life Is but a loan to be repaid with use. When He shall call His debtors to account, From whom are all our blessings, business finds Even here ; while sedulous I seek to improve. At least neglect not, or leave unemployed The mind He gave me; driving it, though slack Too oft, and much impeded in its work By causes not to be divulged in vain, To its just point — the service of mankind. He that attends to his interior self. That has a heart and keeps it ; has a mind That hungers and supplies it ; and who seeks A social, not a dissipated life, aio sro I THE GARDEN. 13 35U Has business ; feels himself engaged to achieve No unimportant, though a silent task. A life all turbulence and noise may seem To him that leads it, wise and to be praised ; But wisdom is a pearl with most success Sought in still water, and beneath clear skies. He that is ever occupied in storms, Or dives not for it, or brings up instead, Vainly industrious, a disgraceful prize. m 8dO S70 Social Converse, his Book and Garden. The morning finds the self-sequestered man Fresh for his task, intend what task he may. Whether inclement seasons recommend His warm but simple home, where he enjoys. With her who shares his pleasures and his heart, Sweet converse, sipping calm and fragrant lymph Which neatly she prepares ; then to his book Well chosen, and not sullenly perused In selfish silence, but imparted oft As aught occurs that she may smile to hear, Or turn to nourishment digested well. Or if the garden with its many cares, All well repaid, demand him, he attends The welcome call, conscious how much the hand Of lubbard labour needs his watchful eye. Oft loitering lazily if not o'erseen, Or misapplying his unskilful strength. Nor does he govern only or direct. But much performs himself; no works indeed That ask robust tough smews, bred to toil. Servile emplby — but such as may amuse. Not tire, demanding rather skill than force. «m Ml i ui r m 1 m HI 14 THE TASK. Pruning and Care of Fruit Trees. Proud of his well-spread walls, he views his trees That meet (no barren interval between) With pleasure more than even their fruits afford, Which, save himself who trains them, none can feel. These therefore are his own peculiar charge. No meaner hand may discipline the shoots. None but his steel approach them. What is weak, Distempered, or has lost prolific powers, Impaired by age, his unrelenting hand Dooms to the knife ; nor does he spare the soft And succulent, that feeds its giant growth But barren, at the expense of neighboring twigs Less ostentatious, and yet studded thick With hopeful gems. The rest, no portion left That may disgrace his art, or disappoint Large expectation, he disposes neat At measured distances, that air and sun Admitted freely may afford their aid, And ventilate and warm the swelling buds. Hence Summer has her riches, Autumn hence, And hence even Winter fills his withered hand With blushing fruits, and plenty not his own. Fair recompense of labor well bestowed And wise precaution, which a clime so rude Makes needful still,- whose Spring is but the child Of churlish Winter, in her froward moods Discovering much the temper of her sire. For oft, as if in her the stream of mild Maternal nature had reversed its course, She brings her infants forth with many smiles, But, once deliver'd, kills them with a frown. He therefore, timely warned, himself supplies Her want of care, screening and keeping warm 110 m ISO m» ^ m l-M «30 THE GARDEN. 16 The plenteous bloom, that no rough blast may sweep His garlands from the boughs. Again, as oft As the sun peeps and vernal airs breathe mild. The fence withdrawn, he gives them every beam, And spreads his hopes before the blaze of day. t Cucumbers. To raise the prickly and green-coated gourd, So grateful to the palate, and when rare So coveted, else base and disesteemed — Food for the vulgar merely — is an art That toiling ages have but just matured, m And at this moment unessayed in song. Yet gnats have had, and frogs and mice, long since Their eulogy ; those sang the Mantuan bard, And these the Grecian, in ennobling strains ; And in thy numbers, Phillips, shines for aye The solitary Shilling. Pardon then, Ye sage dispensers of poetic fame, The ambition of one meaner far, whose powers Presuming an attempt not less sublime. Pant for the praise of dressing to the taste m Of critic appetite, no sordid fare, A cucumber, while costly yet and scarce. Hotbeds; Planting and Transplanting. The stable yields a stercoraceous heap. Impregnated with quick fermenting salts. And potent to resist the freezing blast ; For ere the beech and elm have cast their leaf Deciduous, and when now November dark Checks vegetation in the torpid plant Exposed to his cold breath, the task begins! Warily therefore, and with prudent heed m ! ti 16 THE TASK. I "4 iilii hi He seeks a favoured spot, that where he builds The agglomerated pile, his frame may front The sun's meridian disk, and at the back Enjoy close shelter, wall, or reeds, or hedge Impervious to the wind. First he bids spread Dry fern or littered hay, that may imbibe The ascending damps ; then leisurely impose, And lightly, shaking it with agile hand From the full fork, the saturated straw. Wh^t )r "'^est binds the closest, forms secure The shapely side, that as it rises takes By just degrees an overhanging breadth, Shelteruig t)ie base with its projected eaves. The uplifted frame compact at every jomt, And overlaid with clear translucent glass, He settles next upon the sloping mount. Whose sharp declivity shoots off secure From the dashed pane the deluge as it falls. He shuts it close, and the first labor ends. Thrice must the voluble and restless earth Spin round upon her axle ere the warmth. Slow gathering in the midst, through the square mass Diffused, attain the surface ; when behold ! A pestilent and most corrosive steam, Like a gross fog Bceotian, rising fast, And fast condensed upon the dewy sash, Asks egress ; which obtain'd, the overcharged And drench'd conservatory breathes abroad, In volumes wheeling slow, the vapor dank. And purified, rejoices to have lost Its foul inhabitant. But to assuage The impatient fervor which it first conceives Within its reeking bosom, threatening death To his young hopes, requires discreet delay. 480 400 THE GARDEN. 17 Experience, slow preceptress, teaching oft The way to glory by miscarriage foul, Must prompt him, and admonish how to catch The auspicious moment, when the tempered heat Friendly to vital motion, may afford Soft fermentation, and invite the seed. m The seed, selected wisely, plump and smooth And glossy, he commits to pots of size Diminutive, well filled with well-prepared And fruitful soil, that has been treasured long, And drunk no moisture from the drippmg clouds : These on the warm and genial earth that hides The smoking manure, and o'erspreads it all, He places lightly, and, as time subdues The rage of fermentation, plunges deep In the soft medium, till they stand immersed. &» Then rise the tender germs up starting quick And spreading wide their spongy lobes ; at first Pale, wan, and livid, but assuming soon, If fanned by balmy and nutritious air. Strained through the friendly mats, a vivid green. Two leaves produced, two rough indented leaves. Cautious he pinches from the second stalk A pimple, that portends a future sprout, And interdicts its growth. Thence straight succeed The branches, sturdy to his utmost wish. Baa Prolific all, and harbingers of more. The crowded roots demand enlargement now And t' msplantation in an ampler space. Indulged in what they wish, they soon supply Large foliage, overshadowing golden flov^ers, Blown on the summit of the apparent fruit. These have their sexes, and when summer shines The bee transports the fertilising meal $4 18 THE TASK. From flower to flower, and even the breathing air Wafts the rich prize to its appointed use. Not so when Winter scowls. Assistant art Then acts in nature's office, brings to pass The glad espousals and ensures the crop. / Its Difficulty and Uncertainty. Grudge not, ye rich, (since luxury must have His dainties, and the world's more num'rous half Lives by contriving delicates for you,) Grudge not the cost. Ye little know the cares, The vigilance, the labor, and the skill That day and night are exercised, and hang Upon the ticklish balance of suspense. That ye may garnish your profuse regales With summer fruits brought forth by wintry suns. Ten thousand dangers lie in wait to thwart The process. Heat and cold, and wind and steam. Moisture and drought, mice, worms, and swarming flies Minute as dust and numberless, oft work Dire disappointment that admits no cure. And which no care can obviate. It were long, Too long to tell the expedients and the shifts Which he that fights a season so severe. Devises, while he guards his tender trust, And oft, at last, in vain. The learned and wise Sarcastic would exclaim, and judge the song Cold as its theme, and, lijce its theme, the fruit Of too much labor, worthless when produced. The Greenhouse. Who loves a garden, loves a greenhouse too. Unconscious of a less propitious clime, There blooms exotic beauty, warm and snug, 640 B8D MO THE GARDEN. ID While the winds whistle and the snows descend. The spiry myrtle with unwithering leaf Shines there and flourishes. The golden boast Of Portugal and Western India there, The ruddier orange and the paler lime, Peep through their polished foliage at the storm, And seem to smile at what they need not fear. The amomum there with intermingling flowers And cherries hangs her twigs. Geranium boasts Her crimson honors, and the spangled beau, Ficoides, glitters bright the winter long. All plants, of every leaf, that can endure The winter's frown if screened from his shrewd bite, Live there and prosper. Those Ausonia clauns, Levantine regions these ; the Azores send Their jessamine ; her jessamine remote Caffraria : foreigners from many lands, They form one social shade, as if convened By magic summons of the Orphean lyre. Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass But by a master's hand, disposing well The gay diversities of leaf and flower. Must lend its aid to illustrate all their charms. And dress the regular yet various scene. Plant behind plant aspiring, in the van The dwarfish, in the rear retired, but still Sublime above the rest, the statelier stand. So once were ranged the sons of ancient Rome, A noble show ! while Roscius trod the stage ; And so, while Garrick, as renown 'd as he, The sons of Albion, fearing each to lose Some note of Nature's music from his lips, And covetous of Shakespeare's beauty, seen In every flash of his far-beaming eye. r.7() 680 rm «oo 20 THE TASK. Nor taste alone and well-contrived display Suffice to give the marshalled ranks the grace Of their complete effect. Much yet remains Unsung, and many cares are yet behind And more laborious : cares on which depends Their vigor, injured soon, not soon restored. The soil must be renewed, which often washed Loses its treasure of salubrious salts. And disappoints the roots ; the slender roots, Close interwoven where they meet the vase. Must smooth be shorn away ; the sapless branch Must fly before the knife ; the withered leaf Must be detached, and where it strews the floor Swept with a woman's neatness, breeding else Contagion, and disseminating death. Discharge but these kind offices, (and who Would spare, that loves them, offices like these ?) Well they reward the toil. The sight is pleased, The scent regaled, each odoriferous leaf. Each opening blossom freely breathes abroad Its gratitude, and thanks him with its sweets. 610 69U m ■ The Flower Garden. So manifold, all pleasing in their kind. All healthful, are the employs of rural life. Reiterated as the wheel of time Runs round, still ending, and beginning still. Nor are these all. To deck the shapely knoll That, softly swelled and gaily dressed, appears A flowery island from the dark green lawn Emerging, must be deemed a labor due To no mean hand, and asks the touch of taste. Here also grateful mixture of well matched And sorted hues (each giving each relief, 630 'IJfl ^ THE GARDEN. 21 640 And by contrasted beauty shininj:^ more) Is needful. Strength may vvicltl tlie ponderous spade, May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home, But elegance, chief grace the garden shows, And most attractive, is the fair result Of thought, the creature of a polished mind. Without it, all is gothic as the scene To which the insipid citizen resorts Near yonder heath ; where industry misspent. But proud of his uncouth, ill-chosen task, Has made a heaven on earth ; with sons and moons Of close-rammed stones has charged the encumbered soil, And fairly laid the zodiac in the dust. He, therefore, who would see his flowers disposed Slightly and in just order, ere he gives The beds the trusted treasure of their seeds, sbo Forecasts the future whole ; that when the scene Shall break into its preconceived display, Each for itself, and all as with one voice Conspiring, may attest his bright design. Nor even then, dismissing as performed His pleasant work, may he suppose it done. Few self-supported flowers endure the wind Uninjured, but expect the upholding aid Of the smooth-shaven prop, and neatly tied, Are wedded thus, like beauty t - oid age, m For interest sake, the living to the dead. Some clothe the soil that feeds them, far diffused And lowly creeping, modest and yet fair, Like virtue, thriving most where little seen. Some, more aspiring, catch the neighbor shrub With clasping tendrils, and invest his branch, Else unadorned, with many a gay festoon And fragrant chaplet, recompensing well \ 11 i: I 22 THE TASK. The strength tlicy borrow with the grace they lend. All hate the rank society of weeds, fio Noisome, and ever greedy to exhaust The impoverished eartli ; an overbearing rr ' That, like the multitude made fact ion -mad. Disturb good order, and degrade true worth. Moral and Physical Bleasingrs of a Country Life. Oh blest seclusion from a jarring world. Which he, thus occupied, enjoys ! Retreat Cannot, indeed, to guilty man restore Lost innocence, or cancel follies past ; But it has peace, and much secures the mine From all assaults of evil, proving still m A faithful barrier, not o'crleaped with ease By vicious custom, raging uncontrolled Abroad, and desolating public life. When fierce temptation, seconded within By traitor appetite, and armed with darts Tempered in Hell, invades the throbbing breast, To combat may be glorious, and success Perhaps may crown us, but to fly is safe. Had I the choice of sublunary good. What could I wish that I possess not here ? m Health, leisure, means to improve it, friendship, peace, No loose or wanton, though a wandering muse, And constant occupation without care. Thus blest, I draw a picture of that bliss ; Hopeless, indeed, that dissipated minds, And profligate abusers of a world Created fair so much in vain for them, Should seek the guiltless joys that I describe, Allured by my report ; but sure no less That, self-condemned, they must neglect the prize, m THE GARDEN. 23 And what they will not taste must yet approve. What we admire we praise ; and when we praise. Advance it into notice, that, its worth Acknowledged, others may admire it too. I therefore recommend, though at the risk Of popular disgust, yet boldly still, The cause of piety, and sacred truth. And virtue, and those scenes which God r rda'ncd Should best secure them and promote them most , Scenes that I love, and with regret perceive Forsaken, or through folly not enjoy 'd. Pure is the nymph, though liberal of her smiles, And chaste, though unconfined, whom I extol ; Not as the prince in Shushan, when he called, Vain-glorious of her charms, his Vashti forth To grace the full pavilion. His design Was but to boast his own peculiar good, Which all might view with envy, none partake. My charmer is not mine alone ; my sweets. And she that sweetens all my bitters too. Nature, enchanting Nature, in whose form And lineaments divine I trace a hand That errs not, and find raptures still renewed, Is free to all men, — universal prize. Strange that so fair a creature should yet want Admirers, and be destined to divide With meaner objects even the few she finds. Stript of her ornaments, her leaves and flowers, She loses all her influence. 710 7120 Vices, Misfortunes and Allurements of a City Life. Cities then Attract us, and neglected Nature pines, Abandoned, as unworthy of our love. 730 24 THE TASK. I But are not wholesome airs, though unperfumed By roses, and clear suns, though scarcely felt. And groves, if unharmonious, yet secure From clamor, and whose very silence charms, To be preferred to smoke, to the eclipse That metropolitan volcanoes make, Whose Stygian throats breathe darkness all day long, And to the stir of Commerce, driving slow, And thundering loud, with his ten thousand wheels ? They would be, were not madness in the head, And folly in the heart ; were England now What England was, plain, hospitable, kind. And undebauched. But we have bid farewell To all the virtues of those better days, And all their honest pleasures Mansions once Knew their own masters, and laborious liinds That had survived the father, served the son. Now the legitimate and rightful lord Is but a transient guest, newly arrived. And soon to be supplanted. He that saw His patrimonial timber cast its leaf Sells the last scantling, and transfers the price To some shrewd sharper, ere it buds again. Estates are landscapes, gazed upon awhile, Then advertised, and auctioneered away. The rountry starves, and they that feed the o'ercharged And surfeited lewd town with her fair dues. By a just judgment strip and starve themselves. The wings that waft our riches out of sight Grow on the gamester's elbows, and the alert And nimble motion of those restless joints That never tire, soon fans them all away. Improvement, too, the idol of the age, Is fed with many a victim. Lo ! he comes, — 74(» 760 7(!0 m THE GARDEN. 35 The omnipotent magician, Brown, appears. Down falls the venerable pile, the abode Of our forefathers, a grave, whiskered race. But tasteless. Springs a palace in its stead, But in a distant spot, where more exposed. It may enjoy the advantage of the north And aguish east, till time shall have transformed I'hose naked acres to a sheltering grove. He speaks. The lake in front becomes a lawn, Woods vanish, hills subside, and valleys rise, And streams, as if created for his use, Pursue the track of his directmg wand, Sinuous or straight, now rapid and now slow, Now murmuring soft, now roaring in cascades. Even as he bids. The enraptured owner smiles. 'Tis finished ! And yet, finished as it seems. Still wants a grace, the loveliest it could show, A mine to satisfy the enormous cost Drained to the last poor item of his wealth. He sighs, departs, and leaves the accomplished plan That he has touched, retouched, many a long day Labored, and man}^ a night pursued in dreams, Just when it meets his hopes, and proves the heaveii He wanted, for a wealthier to enjoy. And now perhaps the glorious hour has come, When having no stake left, no pledge to endear Her interests, or that gives her sacred cause A moment's operation on his love. He burns with most intense and flagrant zeal To serve his country. Ministerial grace Deals him out money from the public chest ; Or if that mine be shut, seme private purse Supplies his need with a usurious loan, To be refunded duly, when his vote, 7W ; i I 180 no H' !. I 26 THE TASK. t i .' Well-managed, shall have earned its worthy price. Oh innocent, compared with arts like these. Crape and cocked pistol, and the whistling ball Sent through the traveller's temples ! He that finds One drop of Heaven's sweet mercy in his cup. Can dig, beg, rot, and perish, well content So he may wrap himself in honest rags At his last gasp; but could not for a world Fish up his dirty and dependent bread From pools and ditches of the commonwealth, Sordid and sickening at his own success. London sub an Example. Ambition, avarice, penury incurred By endless riot, vanity, the lust Of pleasure and variety, despatch, As duly as the swallows disappear, The world of wandering knights and squires to town ; London ingulfs them all The shark is there, And the shark's prey ; the spendthrift, and the leech Who, sucks him. There the sycophant, and he That with bare-headed and obsequious bows Begs a warm office, doomed to a cold jail, And groat per diem, if his patron frown. The levee swarms, as if, in golden pomp, Were charactered on every statesman's door, ♦* Battered and bankrupt fortunes mended here." These are the charms that sully and eclipse The charms of nature. 'Tis the cruel gripe That lean hard-handed Poverty inflicts. The hope of better things, the chance to win. The wish to shine, the thirst to be amused. That, at the sound of Winter's hoary wing, Unpeople all our counties of such herds NO fao 8* M •m THE GARDEN. Of fluttering, loitering, cringing, begging, loose And wanton vagrants, as make London, vast And boundless as it is, a crowded coop. Oh thou resort and mart of all the earth. Chequered with all complexions of mankind, And spotted with all crimes ; in whom I see Much that I love, and more that I admire. And all that I abhor ; thou freckled fair, That pleasest and yet shockest me, I can laugh And I can weep, can Lope and can despond, Feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee ! Ten righteous would have saved a city once. And thou hast many righteous.— -Well for thee ! That salt preserves thee ; more corrupted else, And therefore more obnoxious at this hour, Than Sodom in her day had power to be. For whom God heard His Abraham plead in vain. 27 m ;-■■! I END OF THE GARDEN. ^H " =^l p- - ^H ^H '4 1 ^H ^1 ^ » ■ fli i ^^1 : ^^1 < ^^1 ■ ^^H i? :'^| h '^^1 :^H i ' 4^1 i % ■V -.'. ^-m^HIH :1 f I 28 THE TASK. BOOK IV. THE WINTER EVENING, i;;f' 1 i The Post Arrives in the Village. Hark ! 'tis the twanging horn ! O'er yonder bridge, That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright, He comes, the herald of a noisy world, With spattered boots, strapped waist, and frozen locks, News from all nations lumbering at his back. True to his charge, the close-packed load behind, Yet careless what he brings ; his one concern Is to conduct it to the destined inn, And having dropped the expected bag — pass on. He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch, Cold and yet cheerful : messenger of grief Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some ; To him indiff"erent whether grief or joy. Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks. Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet With tears that trickled down the writer's cheeks Fast as the periods from his fluent quill, Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains, Or nymphs responsive, equally affiect His'horse and him, unconscious of them all. But oh the important budget ! ushered in W^ ih such heart shaking music, who can say What are its tidings ? have our troops awaked ? Or do they still, as if with opium drugged. Snore to the murmurs of the Atlantic wave ? Is India free ? and does she wear her plumed 10 •0 1 THE WINTER EVENING. And jewelled turban with a smile of peace, Or do we grind her still ? The grand debate, The popular harangue, the tart reply, The logic and the wisdom and the wit, And the loud laugh — I long to know them all ; I burn to set the imprisoned wranglers free, And give them voice and utterance once again. The News is Read by the Cosy Fireside. Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissmg urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each. So let us welcome peaceful evening in. Not such his evening, who with shining face Sweats in the crowded theatre, and squeezed And bored with elbow-points through both his sides, Outscolds the ranting actor on the stage ; Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath Of patriots bursting with heroic rage. Or placemen all tranquillity and smiles. This folio of four pages, happy work ! Which not even critics criticise, that holds Inquisitive attention, while I read, Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair, Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break; What is it but a map of busy life, Its fluctuations; and its vast concerns ? Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge That tempts ambition. On the summit, see. The seals of office glitter in his eyes ; He climbs, he pants, he grasps them. At his heels, 29 30 THE TASK. n \i Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends, And with a dexterous jerk soon twists him down, And wins them, but to lose them in his turn. Here rills of oily eloquence in soft Meanders lubricate the course they take ; The modest speaker is ashamed and grieved To engross a moment's notice, and yet begs, Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts, However trivial all that he conceives. Sweet bashfulness ! it claims, at least, this praise, The dearth of information and good sense, That it foretells us, always comes to pass. Cataracts of declamation thunder here. There forests of no meaning spread the page In which all comprehension wanders lost ; While fields of pleasantry amuse us there With merry descants on a nation's woes. The rest appears a wilderness of strange But gay confusion ; roses for the cheeks And lilies for the brows of faded age. Teeth for the toothleSvS, ringlets for the bald. Heaven, earth, and ocean plundered of their sweets, Nectareous essences, Olympian dews. Sermons and city feasts, and favorite airs, iEthereal journej^s, submarine exploits. And Katterfelto, with his hair on end At his own wonders, wondering for his bread. ID 10 The World as it Appears to a Literary Recluse. 'Tis pleasant through the loop-holes of retreat To peep at such a world ; to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd ; To hear the roar she sends through all her gates At a safe distance, where the dying sound 00 •0 THE WINTER EVENING. Falls a soft murmur on the uninjured ear. Thus sitting, and surveying thus at ease The globe and its concerns, I seem advanced To some secure and more than mortal height, That liberates and exempts me from them all. It turns submitted to my view, turns round With all its generations ; I behold The tumult and am still. The sound of war Has lost its terror ere it reaches me ; Grieves, but alarms me not. I mourn the pride And avarice that make man a wolf to man, Hear the faint echo of those brazen throats 3y which he speaks the larguage of his heart, And sigh, but never tremble at the sound. He travels and expatiates, as the bee From flower to flower, so he from land to land ; The manners, customs, policy of all Pay contribution to the store he gleans. He sucks intelligence in every clime, And spreads the honey of his deep research At his return, a rich repast for me. He travels, and I too. I tread his deck. Ascend his topmast, through his peering eyes Discover countries, with a kindred heart Suffer his woes, and share in his escapes ; While fancy, like the finger of a clock, Runs the great circuit, and is still at home. 31 im uo Invocation to Winter. Oh Winter ! ruler of the inverted year. Thy scattered hair with sleet like ashes fil'ed. Thy breath congealed upon thy lips, thy cheeks Fringed with a beard made white with other snows Than those of age, thy forehead wrapt in clouds, Hi I'M I 32 THE TASK. I i A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne A sHding car, indebted to no wheels, But urged by storms along its slippery way ; I love thee, all unlovely as thou seemest. And dreaded as thou art. Thou holdest the sun A prisoner in the yet undawning east, Shortening his journey between morn and noon, And hurrying him, impatient of his stay Down to the rosy west ; but kindly still Compensating his loss with added hours Of social converse and instructive ease. And gathering at short notice in one group The family dispersed, and fixing thought Not less dispersed by daylight and its cares. I crown thee king oi intimate delights, Fire-side enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturbed retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted evening know. No rattling wheels stop short before these gates ; No powdered pert, proficient in the art Of sounding an alarm, assaults these doors Till the street rings ; no stationary steeds Cough their own knell, while heedless of the sound The silent circle fan themselves, and quake : IM liO Occupations and Amusements of a Winter Eveningr at Olney. But here the needle plies its busy task, The pattern grows, the well-depicted flower. Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn. Unfolds its bosom ; buds and leaves and sprigs And curly tendrils, gracefully disposed, Follow the nimble finger of the fair ; m ill ' i1 ^^w THE WINTER EVENING. ss A wreath that cannot fade, of flowers that blow With most success when all besides decay. The poet's or historian's page, by one Made vocal for the amusement of the rest ; The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet sounds The touch from many a trembling chord shakes out And the clear voice symphonious, yet distinct, And in the charming strife triumphant still, Beguile the night, and set a keener edge On female industry ; the threaded steel Flies swiftly, and unfelt the task proceeds. The volume closed, the customary rites Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal. Such as the mistress of the world once found Delicious, when her patriots of high note, Perhaps by moonlight, at their humble doors, And under an old oak's domestic shade, Enjoyed, spare feast ! a radish and an egg. Discourse ensues, not trivial, yet not dull, Nor such as with a frown forbids the play Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth ; Nor do we madly, like an impious world, Who deem religion frenzy, and the God That made them an intruder on their" joys, Start at His awful name, or deem His praise A jarring note ; themes of a graver tone, Exciting oft oyr gratitude and love. While we retrace with memory's pointing wand, That calls the past to our exact review, The dangers we have 'scaped, the broken snare, The disappointed foe, deliverance found Unlooked for, life preserved and peace restored. Fruits of omnipotent eternal love. " Oh evenings worthy of the gods ! " exclaimed leo 170 IM n 34 THE TASK. ( 1 1 u U ? M The Sabine bard. Oh evenings, I reply, wo More to be prized and coveted than yours, As more ilhimined, and with nobler truths. That I, and mine, and those we love, enjoy. An Eveningr of the Fashionable World Compared. Is Winter hideous in a garb like this ? Needs he the tragic fur, the smoke of lamps, The pent-up breath of an unsavory throng, To thaw him into feeling, or the smart And snappish dialogue that flippant wits Call comedy, to prompt him with a smile ? The self-complacent actor, when he views wi (Stealing a sidelong glance at a full house) The slope of faces from the floor to the roof, (As if one master spring controlled them all) Relaxed into an universal grin. Sees not a countenance there that speaks a joy Half so refined or so sincere as ours. Cards were superfluous here, with all the tvicks That idleness has ever yet contrived To fill the void of an unfurnished brain, To palliate dulness, and give time a shove. aio Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing, Unsoiled and swift, and of a silken sound. But the World's Time is Time in masquerade. Theirs, should I paint him, has his pinions fledged With motley plumes, and, where the peacock shows His azure eyes, is tinctured black and red With spots quadrangular of diamond form. Ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, Apd spades, the emblem of untimely graves. What should be, and what was an hour-glass once, aao Becomes a dice-box, and a billiard mast THE WINTER EVENING. 85 Well does the work of his destructive scythe. Thus decked, he charms a world whom fashion blinds To his true worth, most pleased when idle most, Whose only happy are their wasted hours. Even misses, at whose age their mothers wore The back-string and the bib, assume the dress Of womanhood, sit pupils in the school Of card-devoted Time, and night by night Placed at some vacant corner of the board. Learn every trick, and soon play all the game. But truce with censure. Roving as I rove, Where shall I find an end, or how proceed ? As he that travels far, oft turns aside To view some rugged rock, or mouldering tower, Which seen delights him not ; then coming home, Describes and prints it, that the world may know How far he went for what was nothing worth ; So I, with brush in hand and pallet spread, With colors mixt for a far diff'rent use, Paint cards and dolls, and every idle thing That Fancy finds in her excursive flights. MO To Bveningr. Come, Evening, once again, season of peace ; Return, sweet evening, and continue long ! Methinks I see thee in the streaky west. With matron-step slow-moving, while the Night Treads on thy sweeping train ; one hand employed In letting fall the curtain of repose On bird and beast, the other charged for man With sweet oblivion of the cares of day ; Not sumptuously adorned, nor needing aid, Like homely-featured Night, of clustering gems ; A star or two just twinkling on thy brow 9M I i f is '"^ 36 THE TASK. Suffices thee ; save that the moon is thine No less than hers, not worn indeed on high With ostentatious pageantry, l)ut set With modest grandeur in thy purple zone. Resplendent less, but of an ampler round. Come then, and thou shalt find thy votary calm, Or make me so. Composure is thy gilt ; And whether I devote thy gentle hours To books, to music, or the poet's toil, To weaving nets for bird-alluring fruit, Or twining silken threads round ivory reels. When they command whom man was born to please, I slight thee not, but make thee welcome still. WM) 3 t 11 H 1^ u A Brown Study in the Firelight. Just when our drawing-rooms begin o blaze With lights, by clear reflection multiplied From many a mirror, in which he of Gath, Goliath, might have seen his giant bulk Whole without stooping, towering crest and all. My pleasures too begin. But me perhaps The glowing hearth may satisfy awhile With faint illumination, that uplifts The shadow to the ceiling, there by fits Dancing uncouthly to the quivering flame. Not undelightful is an hour to me So spent in parlor twilight ; such a Suits well the thoughtful or unthint , mind, The mind contemplative, with some mnv t)icme Pregnant, or indisposed alike to all. Laugh ye, who boast your more mercurial powers, That never feel a stupor, know no pause, Nor need one ; I am conscious, and confess, Fearless, a soul that does not always think. flTO 280 il THE WINTER EVENING. 37 Me oft has fancy, ludicrous and wild, Soothed with a waking dream of houses, towers, Trees, churches, and strange visages expressed In the red cinders, while with poring eye I gazed, myself creating what I saw. Nor less amused have I quiescent watched The sooty films that play upon the bars Pendulous, and foreboding, in the view Of superstition, prophesying still. Though still deceived, some stranger's near approach. 'Tis thus the understanding takes repose In indolent vacuity of thought. And sleeps and is refresh'd. Meanwhile the face Conceals the mood lethargic with a mask Of deep deliberation, as the man Were tasked to his full strength, absorbed and lost. Thus oft reclined at ease, I lose an hour At evening, till at length the freezing blast That sweeps the bolted shutter, summons home The recollected powers, and, snapping short The glassy threads with which the fancy weaves Her brittle toils, restores me to myself. auu son The Ohangeful Scene. How calm is my recess, and how the frost, Raging abroad, and the rough wind, endear The silence and the warmth enjoyed within ' I saw the woods and fields at close of day A variegated show ; the meadows green Though faded, and the lands, where lately waved The golden harvest, of a mellow brown. Upturned so lately by the forceful share ; I saw far off the weedy fallows smile With verdure not unprofitable, grazed 810 ■ r 38 THE TASK. i? By flocks, fast feeding, and selecting each His favorite herb ; while all the leafless groves That skirt the horizon wore a sable hue, Scarce noticed in the kindred dusk of eve. To-morrow brings a change, a total change ! Which even now, though silently performed And slowly, and by most unfelt, the face Of universal nature undergoes. Fast falls a fleecy shower ; the downy flakes Descendmg, and with never-ceasing lapse Softly alighting upon all below, Assimilate all objects. Earth receives Gladly the thickening mantle, and the green And tender blade that feared the chilling blast Escapes unhurt beneath so warm a veil. The Hardy Wagoner. In such a world, so thorny, and where none Finds happiness unblighted, or if found, Without some thistly sorrow at its side, It seems the part of wisdom, and no sin Against the law of love, to measure lots With less d'cinguished than ourselves, that thus We may witu patience bear our moderate ills, And sympathise with others, suffering more. Ill fares the traveller now, and he that stalks in ponderous boots beside his reeking team ; The wain goes heavily, impeded sore By congregated loads adhering close To the clogged wheels, and, in its sluggish pace Noiseless appears a moving hill of snow. The toiling steeds expand the nostril wide. While every breath, by respiration strong Forced downward, is consolidated soon no no m THE WINTER EVENING. 39 Upon their jutting chests. He, formed to bear sm The pelting brunt of the tempestuous night, With half-shut eyes, and puckered cheeks, and teeth Presented bare against the storm, plods on ; One hand secures his hat, save when with both He brandishes his pliant length of whip. Resounding oft, and never heard in vain. Oh happy ! and in my account, denied That sensibility of pain with which Refinement is endued, thrice happy thou. Thy frame, robust and hardy, feels indeed sm The piercing cold, but feeels it unimpaired ; The learned finger never need explore Thy vigorous pulse, and the unhealthful east, That breathes the spleen, and searches every bone Of the infirm, is wholesome air to thee Thy days roll on exempt from household care ; Thy wagon is thy wife ; and the poor beasts. That drag the dull companion to and fro, Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care ; Ah, treat them kindly ! rude as thou appearest, m Yet show that thou hast mercy, which the great. With needless hurry whirled from place to place. Humane as they would seem, not always show. A Picture of Extreme but Honest Poverty. Poor, yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat, Such claim compassion in a night like this, And have a friend in every feeling heart. Warmed while it lasts, by labor, all day long They brave the season, and yet find at eve, 111 clad and fed but sparely, time to cool. The frugal housewife trembles when she lights mo Her scanty stock of brushwood, blazing clear, 40 THE TASK. I? But dying soon, like all terrestial joys. The few small embers left she nurses well, And while her infant race, with outspread hands And crowded knees, sit cowering o'er the sparks, Retires, content to ouake, so they be warmed. The man feels least, as more inured than she To winter, and the current in his veins More briskly moved by his severer toil ; Yet he too finds his own distress in theirs. The taper soon extinguished, which I saw Dangled along at the cold finger's end Just when the day declined, and the brown loaf Lodged on the shelf, half-eaten without sauce Of savory cheese, or butter costlier still, Sleep seems their only refuge : for, alas ! Where penury is felt the thought is chained, And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few. With all this thrift they thrive not. All the care Ingenious parsimony takes, but just Saves the small inventory, bed and stool. Skillet and old carved chest, from public sale. They live, and live without extorted alms From grudging hands, but other boast have none To soothe their honest pride, that scorns to beg. Nor comfort else, but in their mutual love. I praise you much, ye meek and patient pair, For ye are worthy ; choosing rather far A dry but independent crust, hard-earned. And eaten with a sigh, than to endure The rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs Of knaves in office, partial in their work Of distribution ; liberal of their aid To clamorous importunity in rags, But ofttimes deaf to suppliants, who would blush son 408 411) 3'JO 4(N 410 THE WINTER EVENING. 41 To wear a tattered garb however coarse, Whom famine cannot reconcile to filtli ; These ask with painful shyness, and, refused Because deserving, silently retire. But be ye of good courage. Time itself 420 Shall much befriend you. Time shall give increase, And all your numerous progeny, well trained But helpless, in few years shall find their hands, And labor lOO. Meanwhile ye shall not want What, conscious of your virtues, we can spare. Nor what a wealthier than ourselves may send. I mean the man who, when the distant poor Need help, denies them nothing but his name. A Contrast with the above ; the Thief and the Sot. But poverty with most who whimper forth Their long complaints, is self-inflicted woe, 430 The effect of laziness or sottish waste. Now goes the nightly thief prowling abroad For plunder ; much solicitous how best He may compensate for a day of sloth. By works of darkness and nocturnal wrong. Woe to the ardener's pale, the farmer's hedge Plashed neatly, and secured with driven stakes Deep in the loamy bank. Uptorn by strength, Resistless in so bad a cause, but lame To better deeds, he bundles up the spoil, uu An ass's burden, and when laden most And heaviest, light of foot steals fast away. Nor does the boarded hovel better guard The well-stacked pile of riven logs and roots From his pernicious force. Nor will he leave Unwrenched the door, however well secured, Where chanticleer amidst his harem sleeps ill; i f :t 42 THE TASK. i,r u ,1 In unsuspecting pomp. Twitched from the perch, He gives the princely bird, with all his wives, To his voracious bag, struggling in vain, «» And loudly wondering at the sudden change. Nor this to feed his own. 'Twere some excuse Did pity of their sufferings warp aside His principle, and tempt him into sin For their support, so destitute ; but they Neglected pine at home, themselves, as more Exposed than others, with less scruple made His victims, robbed of their defenceless all. Cruel is all he does. 'Tis quenchless thirst Of ruinous ebriety that prompts «m His every action, and imbrutes the man. Oh for a law to 'lOose the villain's neck Who starves his own ; who persecutes the blood He gave them in his children's veins, and hates And wrongs the woman he has sworn to love. England's Greatest Cur e, Strong Drink. Pass where we may, through city or through town, Village or hamlet, of this merry land. Though lean and beggared, every twentieth pace Conducts the unguarded nose to such a whiff Of stale debauch, forth-issuing from the styes «70 That law has licensed, as makes temperance reel. There sit, involved and lost in curling clouds Of Indian fume, and guzzling deep, the boor. The lackey, and the groom ; the craftsman there Takes a Lethean leave of all his toil ; Smith, cobbler, joiner, he that phes the shears. And he that kneads the dough ; all loud alike, All learned, and all drunk. The fiddle screams 1 1 ( I 1 i r c I ii m m THE WINTER EVENING. 43 Plaintive and piteous, as it wept and wailed Its wasted tones and harmony unheard ; Fierce the dispute, whate'er the theme ; while she, Fell Discord, arbitress of such debate. Perched on the sign -post, holds with even hand The undecisive scales. In this she lays A weight of ignorance ; in that, of pride ; And smiles delighted with the eternal poise. Dire is the frequent curse, and its twin sound The cheek-distending oath, not to be praised As ornamental, musical, polite, Like those which modern senators employ. Whose oath is rhetoric, and who swear for fame. Behold the schools in which plebeian minds. Once simple, are initiated in arts Which some may practise with politer grace, But none with readier skill ! 'Tis here they learn The road that leads from competence and peace To indigence and rapine ; till at last Society, grown weary of the load, Shakes her encumbered lap, and casts them out. But censure profits little : vain the attempt To advertise in verse a public pest. That, like the filth with which the peasant feeds His hungry acres, stinks and is of use. The excise is fattened with the rich result Of all this riot ; and ten thousand casks, For ever dribbling out their base contents. Touched by the Midas finger of the state, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. Drink and be mad then ; 'tis your country bids ! Gloriously drunk, obey the important call ! Her cause demands the assistance of your throats ; Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more, 480 49U AM UO i 44 THE TASK. ■ L ;( Longings after the Simplicity and Virtues of Older Times. Would I had fallen upon those happier days That poets celebrate ; those golden times And those Arcadian scenes that Maro sings, And Sidney, warbler of poetic prose. Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had hearts That felt their virtues ; Innocence it seems, From courts dismissed, found shelter in the groves ; The footsteps of simplicity, impressed eao Upon the yielding herbage (so they sing). Then were not all effaced ; then speech profane And manners profligate were rarely found. Observed as prodigies, and soon reclaimed. Vain v/ish ! those days were never : airy dreams Sat for the picture ; and the poet's hand. Imparting substance to an empty shade, Imposed a gay delirium for a truth. Grant it : I still must envy them an age That favored such a dream, in days like these mo Impossible, when virtue is so scarce, That to suppose a scene where she presides Is tramontane, arid stumbles all belief. The False Refinements of the Dairy Maid. No : we are polished now. The rural lass, Whom once her virgin modesty and grace, Her artless manner, and her neat attire. So dignified, that she was hardly less Than the fair shepherdess of old romance, Is seen no more. The character is lost. Her head, adorned with lappets pinned aloft, m And ribbons streaming gay, superbly raised, And magnified beyond all human size, , THE WINTER EVENING. 45 Indebted to sc me smart wig-weaver's hand For more than half the tresses it sustains ; Her elbows rufded, and her tottering form 111 propped upon French heels ; she might be deemed (But that the basket dangling on her arm Intemrets her more truly) of a rank Too proud for dairy-work or sale of eggs. Expect her soon with foot-boy at her heels, ibo No longer blushing for her awkward load, Her train and her umbrella all her care. Decadence of Public Virtue ; a Pessimistic View. The town has tinged the country ; and the stain Appears a spot upon a vestal's robe, The worse for what it soils. The fashion runs Down into scenes still rural, but, alas ! Scenes rarely graced with rural manners now. Time was when in the pastoral retreat The unguarded door was safe ; men did not watch To invade another's right, or guard their own. 'I'hen sleep was undisturbed by fear, unscared By drunken bowlings ; and the chilling tale Of midnight murder was a wonder heard With doubtful credit, told to frighten babes. But farewell now to unsuspicious nights, And slumbers unalarmed. Now, ere you sleep, See that your polished arms be primed with care, And drop the night-bolt ; ruffians are abroad. And the first 'larum of the cock's shrill throat May prove a trumpet, summoning your ear To horrid sounds of hostile feet within. Even daylight has its dangers ; and the walk Through pathless wastes and woods, unconscious once Of other tenants than melodious birds coo sn "rr 46 THE TASK. i >;. It ' i m I !|fji. Or harmless flocks, is hazardous and bold. Lamented change ! to which full many a cause Inveterate, hopeless of a cure, conspires. The course of human things from good to ill, From ill to worse, is fatal, never fails. Increase of power begets increase of wealth; Wealth luxury, and luxury excess ; Excess, the scrofulous and itchy plague That seizes first the opulent, descends To the next rank contagious, and in time Taints downward all the graduated scale Of order, from the chariot to the plough. The rich, and they that have an arm to check The licence of the lowest in degree. Desert their office ; and themselves intent On pleasure, haunt the capital, and thus. To all the violence of lawless hands Resign the scenes their presence might protect. Authority itself not seldom sleeps, Though resident, and witness of the wrong. The plump convivial parson often bears The magisterial sword in vain, and lays His reverence and his worship both to rest On the same cushion of habitual sloth. Perhaps timidity restrains his arm ; When ke should strike, he trembles, and sets free, Himself enslaved by terror of the band. The audacious convict, whom he dares not bind. Perhaps, though by profession ghostly pure. He, too, may have his vice, and sometimes prove Less dainty than becomes his grave outside In lucrative concerns. Examine well His milk-white hand ; the palm is hardly clean — But here and there an ugly smutch appears. •» 6U0 \ : THE WINTER EVENING. 47 Foh ! 'twas a bribe that left it : he has touched Corruption. Whoso seeks an audit here Propitious, pays his tribute, game or fish, Wildfowl or venison, and his errand speeds. Evil Effeots of the Militia System. But faster far, and more than all the rest, A noble cause, which none who bears a spark Of public virtue ever wished removed, Works the deplored and mischievous effect. 'Tis universal soldiership has stabbed The heart of merit in the meaner class. Arms, through the vanity and brainless rage Of those that bear them, in whatever cause; Seem most at variance with all moral good, And incompatible with serious thought. The clown, the child of nature, without guile, Blest with an infant's ignorance of all But his own simple pleasures, now and then A wrestling match, a foot race, or a fair, Is balloted, and trembles at the news. Sheepish he doffs his hat, and mumbling swears A Bible-oath to be whate'er they please. To do he knows not what. The task performed, That instant he becomes the sergeant's carej His pupil, and his torment, and his jest. His awkward gait, his introverted toes. Bent knees, round shoulders, and dejected looks, Procure him many a curse. By slow degrees, Unapt to learn, and formed of stubborn stuff. He yet by slow degrees puts off himself. Grows conscious of a change, and likes it well ; He stands erect ; his slouch becomes a walk ; jfle steps right onward, martial i» his air, ttO «90 III MO 11 ^1 it II 48 THE TASK. His form and movement ; is as smart above As meal and larded locks can make him ; wears His hat, or his plumed helmet, with a ^Tace ; And, his three years of heroship expired. Returns indignant to the slighted plough. » He hates the field in which no fife or drum Attends him, drives his cattle to a march, And sighs for the smart comrades he has left. 'Twere well if his exterior change were all — But with his clumsy port the wretch has lost mo His ignorance and harmless manners too. To swear, to game, to drink, to show at home By lewdness, idleness, and Sabbath-breach, The great proficiency he made abroad. To astonish and to grieve his gazing friends. To break some maiden's and his mother's heart, To be a pest where he was useful once, Are his sole aim, and all his glory now. Vices of Corporate Bodies. Man in society is like a flower Blown in its native bed. 'Tis there alone m His faculties, expanded in full bloom, Shine out ; there onlv reach their proper use. But man associated and leagued with man By regal warrant, or self-joined by bond For interest sake, or swarming into clans Beneath one head for purposes of war. Like flowers selected from the rest, and bound And bundled close to fill some crowded vase, Fades rapidly, and by compression marred Contracts defilement not to be endured. m Hence chartered boroughs are such public plagues ; And burghers, men immaculate perhaps IP THE WINTER EVENING. In all their private functions, once combined, Become a loathsome body, only fit For dissolution, hurtful to the main. Hence merchants, unimpeachable of sin Against the charities of domestic life, Incorporated, seem at once to lose Their nature, and, disclaiming all regard For mercy and the common rights of man. Build factories with blood, conducting trade At the sword's point, and dyeing the white robe Of innocent commercial justice red. Hence too the field of glory, as the world Misdeems it, dazzled by its bright array, With all the majesty of thundering pomp, Enchanting music, and immortal wreaths, Is but a school where thoughtlessness is taught On principle, where foppery atones For folly, gallantry for every vice. The Country is the Nurse of Noble Thought and Irapulse: Virgil, Milton, Cowley. But slighted as it is, and by the great Abandoned, and, which still I more regret, Infected with the manners and the modes It knew not once, the country wins me still. I never framed a wish, or formed a plan That flattered me with hopes of earthly bliss. But there I laid the scene. There early strayed My fancy, ere yet liberty of choice Had found me, cr the hope of being free. My very dreams were rural, rural too The first-born efforts of my youthful muse, Sportive, and jingling her poetic bells Ere yet her ear was mistress of their powers. 49 ■' y. m ■J: 00 THE TASK. i ' '■ |!i ■: , '■'■ r. No bard could please me but whose lyre was tuned To Nature's praises. Heroes and their feats Fatigued me, never weary of the pipe Of Tityrus, assembling, as he sang, The rustic throng beneath his favorite beech. Then Milton had indeed a poet's charms : New to my taste, his Paradise surpassed m The struggling efforts of my boyish tongue To speak its excellence ; I danced for joy. I marvelled much that, at so ripe an age As twice seven years, his beauties had then first Engaged my wonder, and admiring still. And still admiring, with regret supposed The joy half lost because not sooner found. Thee, too, enamoured of the life I loved, Pathetic in its praise, in its pursuit Determined, and possessing it at last » With transports such as favoured lovers feel, I studied, prized, and wished that I had known, Ingenious Cowley ! and though now, reclaimed By modern lights from an erroneous taste, I cannot but lament thy splendid wit Entangled in the cobwebs of the schools. I still revere thee, courtly though retired, Though stretched at ease in Chertsey's silent bowers. Not unemployed, and finding rich amends For a lost world in solitude and verse. no 'Tis born with all. The love of Nature's works Is an ingredient in the compound, man, And though the Almighty Maker has throughout Discriminated each from each, by strokes And touches of His hand, with so much art Diversified, that two were never found Twiiis at all points — yet this obtains in all, ( ' THE WINTER RVFN'ING. 51 That all discern a beauty in His works, And all can taste them : minds that have been formed And tutored, with a relish more exact, But none without some relish, none unmoved. It is a flame ♦hat dies not even there, Where nothmg feeds it ; neither business, crowds, Nor habits of luxurious city life, Whatever else they smother of true worth In human bosoms, quench it or abate. The villas, with which London stands begirt, Like a swarth Indian with his belt of beads. Prove it. A breath of unadulterate air. The glimpse of a green pasture, how they cheer The citizen, and brace his languid frame ! Even in the stifling bosom of the town, A garden in which nothing thrives has charms That soothe the rich possessor ; much consoled That here arid there some sprigs of mournful mmt, Of nightshade, or valerian, grace the well He cultivates. These serve him with a hint That Nature lives ; that sight -refreshing green Is still the livery she delights to wear. Though sickly samples of the exuberant whole. What are the casements lined with creeping herbs, The prouder sashes fronted with a range Of orange, myrtle, or the fragrant weed. The Frenchman's darling ? Are they not all proofs That man, immured in cities, still retains His inborn inextinguishable thirst Of rural scenes, compensating his loss By supplemental shifts, the best he may ? The most unfurnished with the means of life, And they that never pass their brick-wall bounds To range the fields and treat their lungs with air, fio m m i ii 52 THE TASK. ill. m ' > Yet feci the burning instinct : over-head Suspend their crazy boxes, planted thick, And watered duly. There the pitcher stands A fragment, and the spoutless tea-pot there ; Sad witnesses how close-pent man regrets The country, with what ardour he contrives A peep at Nature, when he can no more. But God is the Giver of All. Hail, therefore, patroness of health and ease And contemplation, heart-consoling joys And harmless pleasures, in the thronged abode Of multitudes unknown ! hail rural life ! » Address himself who will to the pursuit or honors, or emolument, or fame, I shall not add myself to such a chase, Thwart his attempts, or envy his success. Some must be grer.t. Great offices will have Great talents ; and God gives to every man The virtue, temper, understanding, t?.sie. That lilts him into life, and lets him fall Just in the niche he v/as ordained to fill. To the deliverer of an injured land He gives a tongue to enlarge upon, a lieart To feel, and courage to redress her wrongs ; To monarchs dignity ; to judges sense ; To artists ingenuity and skill ; To me an unambitious mind, content In the low vale of life, that early felt A wish for ease and leisure, and ere long Found here that leisure and that ease I wished. m NOTES. THE GARDEN, Line i. Imitating Milton's line, P. L., ix., 445: "As one who long in populous city pent." Notice the inverted order of the opening sentence. as. — Give the correlative here. Supply rambles or rvanders after one. brake. — The brake, or bracken, is a kind of fern very common in Britain and elsewhere; has a creeping root-stock, from which rise up naked stalks from eight to eighteen inches high, each with three branches at the top. It often covers considerable tracts, furnishes a frequent cover for deer, hares, etc., and is not a sign of fertile soil. It is employed for thatching and bedding cattle, and occasionally (chopped up with hay or straw) for feed. Hence the origin of the text-word, any broken ground covered with a tangled growth of bushes; some- what synonymous with thicket. 2. Winds his course.— Is this a case of cognate objective ? wind is allied to ivend and wander. Explain the connection. Distinguish winded, winded and wound. 3. Compare the meaning of devious and uncertain, foiled and dis- comfited. 4. Supply the ellipsis after or. 5. Slough (slou) and slough (sluf) are from different roots. What was the Slough of Despond ? 7. Show how lines 7-10 disturb the grammatical and logical -■ '«r {anacoluthon). How should they be read ? chance - by chance. Difference between using find and finds ? 8. faithful. — Thomson has the same idea in the line, " Of faithless bogs and precipices wild." Indicate how the phrase, "his spirits rise," has come to mean " he Krows more cheerful " [531 I' i ; I r I ill r d 54 NOTES. m g. cherups— trans, here, is oftener written chirrups, and is the same word as chirps. What name is given to words formed in imitation of the sound they signify? Give other examples. Real force of ear-erecting ? Show this to be a case oi prolepsis. TO. Would " wends his way " give the same idea or as good ? Criticise the arrangement as to the words pleasure and ease. II. So. — Arrange the sentence so as to omit this word. designing, etc. — See Life, concerning Lady Austen's suggested subject, the Sofa. 13. What figure in the words slumbers and dreams, as applied to the sofa? Discuss the poetical propriety of writing, "to paint its slumbers, and to tell its dreams,' instead of as in the text. What effect would substituting his for it": have? 14. > = iiibled. — The Garden is the first book of the Task with any- thing like a definite plan. rambled. — Derive, and explain the b, and give similar instances of the insertion of b and d. Discuss the omission of connectives in county, city, seat (asyn- deton). 15. Derive the word academic. For explanation of the sarcastic parenthesis see the Timepiece, line 371 et seq. 16. held and disengaged ; limit L . . 17. cleanlier or cleanlier ? Why ? He finds in the subjects of the Garden, and the thoughts and feelings due to it, something less repulsive and soiling than his previous topics. 18. at large— i.«., free. 20. awaits. — Why the indie, mood ? ' 21. pulpit. — Metonymy for the preacher, as the sound for the ser- mon. See Crit Introd. to explain the sarcastic reference. sounding-board. — A structure over or behind a pulpit to p' event the sound-waves from going upwards. In constructing buildings intended for the various kinds of public speaking, it is often difficult to unite elegance of design with good acoustic qualities ; hence such appliances as the above. 22. reflects. — Is this (as Storr gives it) an instance oi catachresis ? most part. — For the most part. Can most be placed before any other nouns in the singular ? THE GARDEN. 55 empty ineffectual sound — Even in our own day we sometimes deplore the want of good result from pulpit work. In Cowper's time, too many of the clergy were only politicians and theologians. They thought more of preferment than of the saving of souls, and often put off with their surplices all thought and anxiety for the spiritual welfare of their flocks. But the stimulating influence of the Methodist Revival was already beginning to warm into emulation some corners of the Established Church. Cowper vns the first of English poets to b«! the exponent of this new moral enthusiasm, and to tune his lyre to the key of evangelic piety, and his verst glows with the essential vitality of the Gospel. 23. What chance, etc. Modesty, or affectation, for his first volume (1782) had received considerable notice. Supply the ellipsis after chance. The following clause may be regarded as governed by of understood, or as in the adverbial objective. 24. conversant. — For a dozen years Cowper had lived at Olney, completely excluded from all but a narrow circle of intimate friends. 25. Discuss the substitution of could for sho'.tld in this line. 26. crack the satiric thongf. -A common metaphor with satiric poets, Cf. Hor. Sat., Bk. I., iii., 119 : " Necscutica dignum horribili sectere flagello." Lash is the common word. wiser far. — Imitating Milton, Lycidas, 67 : " Were it not better done, as others use. To sport with Amaryllis in the shade. Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair ? " Were Milton and Cowper poets likely to do this sort of thing ? Difference between sequestered and sequestrated — both from the same root ? 28-30. So Horace, Odes, Bk. II., xi., 13 : *' Cur non sub alta vel platano vel hac Pinu jacentes sic temere ? " Is there any significance in choosing the elm and vine to repre- pnt umbrageous trees in general ? 50 NOTES. l! I'lJ I w m 30-32. Note the alliteration. Why has Sofa a capital? Give the relation of limhs and on. nitrous air— one of the names given to oxygen by Priestly, its discoverer (1774). Compare Thomson's Wintvr, 693 ; "Through the blue serene th' ethereal nitre flies." 34. undisturbed — attributive to me in 1. 27. Why is Folly written with a capital ? Supply the verb in 1. 35, and regard the clause as the object of the pass, participle apprised, or as in the adv. objective. What verbs retain an object after them in the passive? 36-37. Cowper thinks seme of his earlier pieces, as the Progress of Error, Truth, etc., were very severe, and might well provoke retaliation. But they are not so very pungent after all. The favourable notices of Cowper's poems were quite as numerous as the unfavourable. to muse in silence. — In apposition with it in 1. 26. gall — literally, to fret, to rub. C{ John Gilpin, 21: "But finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well-sh 3me edit" ns have hast. Which is gn^mmatically correct, and why ? 43. The sanctity of the family relation is one of the great bonds of society. Comp. 11. 290 and 675. 43-44. Distinguish "Few (a few) do it." tasting. — Expand into a clause. infirm — feeVtle or yielding of purpose. THE GARDEN. OV 46-47. bitter. — See Lucret, Dc Kmiin Natuiti, iv., 11 26. bitter — a noun ; give the meaning of bitters. neglect— of each other; temper, /.<:., ill-temper. Compare - "There are serpents to coil are the flowers are up; There's a poison drop in man's purest cup." — Sigoitrney. crystal — a term sometimes applied to a better kind uf g'ass, In chemistry, a portion of some mineral or salt that, owing to certain molecular forces, has assumed a definite geometrical form with plane faces. The ancient philosophers thought crystals of quartz (for example) were only water congealed by very great cold to ice. In this phrase It means pure. 48. thine. — Contrast the use oi thine, thy, mine, my, an, a. 49. As in truth she is. — May be taken as an adjective clause, m being regarded as a co-ordinating relative, equal to " and this " (heaven- born), or the clause may be regarded as adverbial with a logical co-ordinative force. 51 Domestic happiness gives the purest and most enduring plea- sures, but includes some mutual sacrifices and restraints. 52. reeling. — Justify the use of this epithet, and also of wandering (53). zoneless — wanton, as all respectable young women among the Romans wore the zona, or girdle. 54. frail. — A doublet of what? Give other pairs of doublets, and account for them., 56. truth-tried — tried and found true, begetting mutual confidence. 57. stormy raptures— sinful pleasures. 58. forsaking. — Expand into a clause. 62. purposes of empire. — Works or laws of national importance. 63. bond. — The marriage lie. The power to grant a divorce then rested with the Parliament. 65. provocation — cause of anger. 67. nauseous. — Derive. 70. guilty splendor. — i*urchased by sin. 72. Notwithstanding the disclaimer, he still goes on. What figure' r>8 NOTES. m 73-4. Hardly true now cf the adulteress, but what of the adulterer ? 78. prudery. — Affectation of excessive virtue by a woman wi.D is really no better than other people. But it is much l>ett.er (for socieiy as well as for one's self) to be a prude than a profligate. 80. waif —a worthless wanderer , a castaway. In law, goods found but not claimed, the owner being unknown. Parse here and there. 82. was. — For 'twas, a harsh ellipsis. 85. nice — particular, scrupulous. The original meaning was foolish; then it changed to absurd, whimsical, fantastic, subtle, fas- tidious. It is a much abused word at the present time. 86. vrell — gave them their full deserts, sharped. — Obsolete as a verb, but the noun sharper is common enough. 89. was slack. — Perhaps refers to Admiral Byng, who was tried by court martial and shot in 1757, for his failure to relieve Minorca from the attack of th* French. Voltaire wittily remarked that it was done " to encourage the others." 91. basely spared. — The court expressly freed him from the charges of cowardice and treachery. 92. default. — Seldom used now in this connection, but is relegated to leffal phraseology. 94. construction. — In construing an offender's conduct. 97-8. Parse transgress and dressed, etc., and justify the use of is. 100. Rochefoucauld, Max., 223 : ** Hypocrisy is the homage that vice pays to virtue." ;;oi. She deserves everything bad said about her. T05. The poet is a little mixed here. Hypocrisy is the mask, yet burns her mask. Distinguish between hypocrisy and dissimulation. 106-7. Paraphrase. Derive semblances, 108. stricken deer. A metaphor beautifully carried out till 1. 120. Cowper thought that his conversion was the cure of his mental ailment. Compare Hamlet, III. : " Why, let the stricken deer go weep," and Surrey, The Faithful Lover, 21 " Then as the stricken deer withdraws himself alone, So do I seek some secret place where I may make my moan." THE GARDEN. 69 109. infixed.— A Latinism. The arrows are sins, no. panting— from weakness; charged —loAded, weighed down. 112. One — ChriGt. See Gen. xlix., 23, and Isaiah liii. 4 . . 115. soliciting.— Gently withdrawing by moving from side to side. Imitated from Virgil, Aen., xii., 403: " Nequidquam trepidat, nequidquam spicula dextrA, SoUicitai, prensatque tenaci forcipe ferrum." Z16. healed has no regimen. Note the climax. 117. Who were the " few associates " and " former partners" ? Few associates and silent woods may, however, refer generally to the converts of the new revival, and to the seclusion and obscurity of his position, rather than to the Unwins, etc., and to Olney. IIP peopled scene. — Is this London, or is it a metaphor? 120. Note the repetition of /ifw aisoc/a/^s. What figure? 121. ruminate. — Primarily, to chew the end; then, metaphorically, to ponder, to reflect. as much I may — which {i.e., ruminating) much I may do, or, since much I may ruminate. When may as be considered a relative ? See Skeat on the deriva- tion. 122. now.— Parse. What kind cf nouns may take adv. modifiers without the necessity of a participial connective:' 123. than once — before his conversion. Derive than and others, and supply the ellipsis. 124. Isaiah liii., 6: "All we like sheep have gone astray," etc. Distinguish astray and e stray ; also delusion, illusion, elusion. 126. "Ever wooed, and never won," because the fancied happiness turns ou(. to be no happiness at all. 128. Supply other words for each st'll. Is the repetition of still a fault ? Is shall correctly used ? 129. Rings the world. — Justify the order. 130. vain — resultless. Parse //a//" and rfr^ams. 133. million— the great majority. Cf. the phrases: "for the mil- lion," and " their name is legion." gay. — Adv. or adj.? Cf. Gray, Ode to Spring : "To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of Man ; And they that creep and they that fly Shall end where they began." uii 60 NOTES. 1 i 134. As if like the fly they had been created only to sport, etc. 135. motley — speckled, parti-colored (O. F". ninttel/, curd-like). Mottled is derived from it. Explain " a motley crowd," and " a worthy fool : motley is your only wear." eye of noon. — What ? What figure ? 136. their.— Discuss the effect of substituting his. 137 et scq. . . This attack on history, geology, astronomy, etc., is partly due to Cow|)er's very small acquaintance with those subjects, and partly due to the influence of religion. Some of the revivalists, in advocating the suprenxe importance of preparing for the next world, seemed to forget that there are many innocent amusements and useful pursuits in this one. Enthusiasm is general'y narrow ; hence we find many inveighing against literature and science as antagonistic to the growth of spiritual life. It must be remembered that the views put forth here are Cowper's honest convictions and ignorance. Knowledge of the subjects, or personal intercourse with the unfortunate savants, would almost certainly have corrected his unjust estimate, for there was no unfairness or acidity in Cowper's gentle nature. 137-8. Why sober dreamers ? rare — excellent. 139-40. See the opening sentences of Macaulay s History of England, chap. I., for the proper scope and treatment of history. rant. — Such a narrative is not likely to be a rant. 141-150. Our system of government by parties has made impartial history-writing a very difficult matter. Certain facts are often made unduly prominent, others intentionally suppressed : and even if truly told, the conclusions drawn are colored by the political prejudices of the writer. Again, as Cowper intimates, hero-worship is but too common in our histories, and some of our most brilliant and fascinating writers are untrustworthy from this cause alone. Mention the most judicial of our modern historians. Is Macaulay, is Froude, is Hallam ? 142-4. coevals. — Seldom used. What substitute ? as, as if. 145-7. disentangle. — Applies well to skein. shrewd - originally wicked, has through lapse ot time acquired the meaning of commendably sagacious. Give a list of other words that have similarly changed in meaning. Distinguish a politic (political) design. 'HI I THE GARDEN. 61 150. or having, kept, etc. — Supply the (jllipsis, and parse haviu}( and cunccaled. Difference between drill and bore ? 152 register. — Of the order, duration, and mode of the formation of the different layers of rocks (strata). 153-4. Two misstatements here ; the date of creation is not revealed in Scripture ; and geologists make no such impious statement as the other. The conflict between geology and the Scripture is gradually ceasing, but the victory has been rather with the geologists than with the theologians. The more tolerant spirit of scientists, and the less literal construction by later Bible critics of the Mosaic account of creation, have induced many to think that science will in time come to the assistance of revealed religion, and confirm the Scriptural record. Numerous works have been written with the object of reconciling religion and science in this matter. 156 contrive creation. — Set forth the plan and order according to which the world was made. The advocates of the theory of its forma- tion according to general laws, and not by special acts of creative DOwers, are no doubt increasing in number. See Winter Walk at Noon, 198 : " Some say that in the origin of things, When all creation started into birth, The infant elements received a law From which they swerve not since. That undc^r force Of that controlling ordinance they move, And need not His immediate hand who first Prescribed their course, to regulate it now." Hov/ the supposition of such a lav/ can detract from our ideas of God's power or majesty, it seems difficult to see. Cowper here (travel Nature up) figures Nature as a mountain, and the philosophers, from its highest point, reaching out to the stellar regions beyond in their impious ambi- tion and curiosity. travel up may perhaps be taken together as the verb. Show how to determine when the preposition properly forms part of the verb, 157. Why is Nature fern. ? What is the distinction between stars and planets ? What gave them rotation, and in what direction is it ? The mention of rotation and light makes it probable that the poet liail in his mind the discoveries and theories of Newton, Des Cartes, La i'lace, etc. 62 NOTES. 1 r ! 158. fixed stars. — Their perfect fixity is now long disproved, they twinkle or scintillate, which planets do not ; they maintain (with inap- preciable variation) the same relative positions, which planets do not ; their motion from east to west during the night is due to the earth's rotation ; their coming earlier to the meridian each night by about four minutes is due to the earth's annual motion ; they are composed in varying proportions of chemical constituents similar to those of the planets ; and are, like them, subject to Newton's law, but differ in being self-luminous, and in being (with one or two exceptions) at incalculable distances from us. 159. planetary.— Name the chief planets known in Cowper's time. 1 59-60. fountain. —What figure ? Notice the alliteration and the number of liquids in 1. 160. 161. contest. — Why is this word better than contention would be? learned dust.— So QmntiMsin, forensis pulvis. 162-3. Notice the art of the poet, each opposed to both, claiming to disclaiming, truth ending one clause and beginning the next. 163-6. The likening of human life, or nature, to a burning lamp, or 10 some other form of light, is common. Of what elements of our nature, physical, intellectual, or spiritual, may the lamp, the oil, the wick, and the flame be considered as types; i.e., show the ttuth of the metaphor. Compare " Can we to man benighted The lamp of life deny ? " — Heber. "A burning and a shining light To a* this place."— if o/y Willie's Prayer. " Life is a pure flame, and we live by an invisible sun within us." — Sir T. Browne. playing tricks — As a child with a toy, which it pulls to pieces to examine. So Meas.for Meas., ii., 2 : " But mai^, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority,' Most ignorant of what he's most assured. His glassy essence — like an angry ape — Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep." trifling. — They were described as sober dreamers in 1. 137, yet as iriflers here. Why ? THE GARDEN. 63 167-72. Note the irony : rheums— colds, catarrhs. Derive. tease— irritate ; blear, properly to make sore and tender ; connected with blur, which seems the meaning in this passage. oracle. — The term meant (i) the response of the divinity ; (2) the place where given ; (3) the divinity that gave it. The last meaning, ironically applied, is Cowper's here. Mention some of the chief ancient oracles. Compare Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice : "As who should say, I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips let no dog bark." \lso, for an idea similar to the one in this passage, see Hor., Ep. I., i., 103, speaking of the Stoic's wise man : "Liber, honoratus, pulcher, rex denique regum Praecipue sanus, nisi cum pituita molesta est." "A king an' a' that, save when he's got a cold in his head." 170. elements. — The four elements, fire, air, earth and water, were, by the earlier Greek philosophers, assumed to make up, in various proportions, the constitution of material things, corresponding some- what to our division into imponderable, gaseous, solid, and liquid. Thales, as his first principle, took water ; Anaximenes, air ; Heraclitus, (ire, etc. Give other meanings for elements, 171. thousand. — Hyperbole. 172. go out in fume — end in smoke; i.e., ingloriously, and to no purpose. 174-6. frantic — delirious with pain or passion. To sacrifice eternal happiness for the bubbles of earthly vanity and vanity and applause is a senseless bargain. Perhaps Cowper had in mind /{a^« q/'Lucr^c^, stanza 31: *' What win I if I gain the thing I seek ? A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sells Eternity to get a toy ? " games. — These occupations are called games, since the end in view is not a serious one, viz., preparation for the next world. 178. judge. — See 2 Tim. iv., i: " Who shall judge the quick and the dead." i^ I IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 ... m, M 2.0 1= U IIIIII.6 V] ^> c^; <^A °% ^J' V A ^ ^^ //. Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST ma;n street WEBSTER, NY 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^ V C\ \ < % ^l.ind's j;reatesl epic poet, the writer of Paradise Lost, wrote also Paradise Regained (quite inferior), L'Al- Icgro, II Penseruso, Comus, Lycidas, etc., also some excellent prose works. ang^elic wings.- -Soared to heaven. 256. fed on manna. — As the Israelites in the wilderness were Miiraculously fed on manna, so Milton, in his old age, blind and poverty stricken, and surrounded by the dissoluteness and profligacy of the Restoration, was sustained by his trust in God, and by his confidence in the ultimate justice of heaven. 257. Themis.— The British Bench. Themis was the daughter of Ouranos (Heaven) and Gaia (Earth), and as Goddess of Justice is represented as blind, holding in one hand the sword, and in the other a pair of scales aloft. ?.58. Hale— Sir Matthew (1609-1676), Chief Justice of K. B. in 1671. His praise here is well-deserved. He avoided politics, and wrote many volumes on law and religious subjects. 259. sound integ^ty.— Doesn't integrity itself convey the notion of soundness ? Can you justify the use of sound here ? 261-3. See Isaiah xl., 6 ; Peter i., 24 Note the disagreement of the ideas in fading and dishevelled. See Prov. xxiii., 5. Derive dishevelled. 267 vanity. — In what different senses used, and in which here ? 268. The amaranth— " A flower which once, In Paradise fast by the tree of life Began to bloom ; but soon for man's offence To Heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows. And flowers aloft, shading the fount of life. . . . With these that never fade the spirits elect Bind their resplendent locks." —Paradise Lost, Bk. III. The word should be, as Milton spelled it, amarantine (Gr. amarantos, unfading). 270. Pilate's question.— yo/r« xviii., 38. Was Pilate in earnest, and was he refused an answer ? 271-2. wherefore- — Supply the ellipsis. Discuss substitution of those for them here. THE GARDEN. 69 273 6. freely. -Give the full sentence and also the object oi impart. Distinguish the meanings of caiuiid and sincere. Is spark a good word here ? 277. Give the answers to the various questions in 277-288. 280-283. that— Should properly be which. See 1. 277. Similarly in 1. 287, which should be that. 282. Heb. xi., a6. 283. Account. — Estimation. 284. depreciate- —Meaning ? Exemplify the intransitive use. Scan the line, and point out any others with similar irregularities. 285. Matt, xiii , 46. 287-8 of all. — Exemplify similar uses of o/", unsought. —Parse. 290. See Thomson's Autumn, 11. 1235 et seq. 297. Explain the reference. 298. (I call it Paradise) for earth has, etc. 3vX). transient.— Distingui.sh from transitory. 301-5. scenes.— Obj. of to fill in 1. 307. meliorate. — For ameliorate, to make better. Generally applied to a lot or condition, not to persons. compose. — Soothe, lay to rest. 307. Distinguish contagious and infectious. Are game-fowl, fish, etc., brutes ? 311. fearless. —This is generally so, or field sports would not be so popular as they are. rapt. — Hurried, snatched. L., rapere. 312. g^ame-fowl. — This line may refer to cock-fighting, which was a common sport in Cowper's time, but is now prohibited under rather severe penalties. We find it in England as early as the reign of Henry II., and it was legal up to the beginning of tliis century, except for a short time (during the Commonwealth). The reference may, however, be to fowl which are game, i.e., for the killing of which a license is required, as pheasants, partridges, grouse, etc. Even the eggs of game are protected by the law. Do game laws exist in Canada ? There are laws in Canada against the taking of fish out of season. Upon what other principles than Cowper's can such laws be defended ? 70 NOTES. 314-5. could.- Why not should f Mention some summer resorts in England and Canada. Skeat. li pag^eantrj.— Derive, and give the original meaning. See quelled. — Exemplify the ordinary use of this word. 316. self-deluded. — They imagine themselves to be nymphs and swains, i.e., real rustics. Distinguish tasts o/and taste for. 318. spleen. — Melancholy. The spleen, the largest of the ductless glands, is situated to the left of the stomach and below the ribs. In adults its weight is about seven ounces, and it is of a flattened oval form. Its functions even yet are not very clearly understood, but are con* nected with the supply of nutritive material to the blood in cases of imperfect nutrition in the ordinary way. There was an old idea, now completely exploded, that the temper or disposition was directly dependent upon the spleen. Swift says: " You humour me when I am sick, Why not when I am splenetick ? " 321. their.— Refers to silence and shade. 322. which who, etc — A Latin idiom frequently used by Cowper. 324. Compare as to the sentiment, those noble lines beginning " I would not enter on my list of friends." — Task, Book vi., 560. See also Thomson's Autumn, 383 et seq. 331. of silent tears. — Is this true to nature ? silent. — What is the force of the epithet here ? 333. tone. — Sentiment. Is there sufficient correspondence for a simile between si^h and tone ? Jovial — Born under the planet Jupiter (Jove), hence merry, pleasure-loving. Cf. the words Saturnine, Mercurial. 334. well.— Parse. THE GARDEN. 71 hare.— The poet's favorite hare, Puss, given to him in 1774 Puss died March 9, 1786, aged eleven years eleven months, of mere old age.— Grt/^M. Part of its epitaph by Cowper runs thus : "Hunc neque canis venaticus, Nee plumbum missile, Nee laqueus, Nee imbres nimii, Confecgre : Tamen mortuus est — Et moriar ego." Cf. Epitaph on a Hare (another of his three pets). Cowper was extremely fond of animals, and was presented with several by his friends. 335. yell. — Distinguish from shout and scream 339. familiar. — One of the household, consequently without /car. 342. Notice the eflfective apostrophe, as if the hare had come into the room while Cowper was penning the previous lines. 346. have pledg^ed, etc — I shall forfeit, on failure so to do, the very name of man. 351. Southey calls attention to the utterly different spirit in which Byron's epitaph on his dog was written, though the words are almost the same : " To mark a friend's remains these stones arise, I never knew but one, and here he lies." 357. trim. — Condition; as adj., neat, tidy. Cf. Milton's Ode to the Nativity: — Storr. What was a Trimmer ? " Nature in awe to Him Hath doffed her gaudy trim." 358. Name the appositives to these. Does industry specially refer to the pen, or does it include the other occupations ? 359. want. — What two meanings ? Which is the better here? 361. Business finds me studious, etc. Laborious ease. — Oxymoron. This is a common device of the poets. So Horace, *• strenua inertia" ; Thomson, '* still breeze " ; Cowper, " Ye who know no fatigue but idleness," etc. The poet means that work which is congenial and sufficiently varied is not labor but pleasure. ».: t: 72 NOTKS. I h m m 362 deceive —Wile away. Cf tlie current phrase, "Time hangs heavy on our hands." 363-6. that human life, etc. — Alludes to the Parable of the Talents. The that clause may be regarded as in the adv. obj. after aware sedulous. — Note other words, sedentary, assiduous, etc., from the same root. use —Interest. Usury and usance were formerly so employed. 369-71 . Alludes to his frequent depression and occasional aberration of mind. 372. to. —Driving the mind forward to its true destination. 373. attends to his interior self.— Is explained by what immediately follows. 375. who.— Should be that 378 no unimportant —What figure ? 381. pearl.— Most of the molluscous animals which are marine and reside in shells line them with a fluid secretion, deposited in films, which when hardened is beautifully iridescent and is known as mother- of-pearl or, scientifically, as nacre The pearl inside the pearl oyster, for example, is of the same material, and has its origin in a grain of sand or sonie irritating foreign body, the friction of which the animal endeavors to avoid by covering it over with this deposit, and so the pearl ir gradually formed, hard, smooth, and of a silvery white. The pearl fishery or diving is carried on now at many places, e.g., off Ceylon (Condatchy), Panama, St. Margarita (W.I.), Coromandel Coast, etc. In this passage (1. 381) pearl is for any gem. 381. most success. —True of pearl diving; but Cowper forgets that there is as useful a wisdom to be gained by mixing with the world and studying human nature. 387. Let him intend whatever task he may, or though he intend. 388-96. The connection of this sentence is not quite clear. A principal clause will have to be supplied, either from what precedes, as, " (He is fresh from his task), whether," etc. ; or from what follows, as, "Whether inclement seasons recommend, etc., (he attends to the call)." 392. Where he then turns to his book, etc. 390. with her, etc.— The self-sequestered man (1. 386) is probably himself, and, if so, 1. 390 certainly refers to Mrs. Unwin, with whom THK GAKDKN. n ie he lived ninotuon years at OIney, and to whum it seems he was after- wards engaged to be married. See Life. 391. fragrant lymph.— A weak periphrasis for tea. Elsewhere he improves on this by saying, " the cup that cheers but not inebriates." Lymph (L., lynipha). a poetic word for clear water. Explain lymphatic temperament. 392. Some are disposed to think that neatly is not a happy word ; but perhaps it refers to other offices requiring the "neat-handed Phillis," accompanying the tea-making. Tea was known in England as early as the time of Cromwell ; but was excessively dear. Cowper was a great lover of it. 393. sullenly.— Derivp. These lines are exactly descriptive of the life at OIncy with the IJnwins. 396. digested.— Psirse. 399. conscious how much. — For construction, see note on 1. 363. Distinguish conscious and aware. 400. lubbard. — Sluggish and clumsy. Akin to lob, looby, lubber Form other derivatives in ard . . Cf. Milton, L' Allegro, no •• Then lies him down the lubbar fiend." So Thomson, speaking of drunkenness. Autumn, 561 : " — Where astride The lubber power in filthy triumph sits Slumbrous, inclining still from side to side." 402. his.— Refers to Labor personified. 403. only.— Merely. 405-7. He performs no works indeed : employ, a noun in app. with works. demanding.— Parse. 408-9. well-spread walls.— Covered with the branches of fruit trees trained up against them, hence " wall-fruit." 410-11. even and save.— Parse. Explain the force of 1. 410. 413-14.— Give force of may. Steel, what figure ? 415-16. distempered, prolific, impaired.— Derive, and explain the meaning. impaired.— Parse. li 1 . 1; f ■:i) r If, i«« IP 74 . NOTRS. 41K That feeds its giant but barren growth. Note sing. no. Derive and explain succulent and ostentatioui. 421. gems.— Buds (L., gemma). . . Gem is the technical term in botany for a bud. no portion.— Being left. 427. Note the repetition of hence [i.e., from the gardener's care), and the personifications . . What principles determine the gender used in personification ? 429. Cf. Qeorgics, ii., 82: " Miraturque novas frondes et non sua poma." 430-2. These fruits are the fair recompense of labor and of wise precaution. Note the frequency of these elliptical sentences in Cowper. Are northern nations more industrious and provident than south- ern nations ? How may Spring be said to be the child of Winter ? 432-4. Spring . . discovering. — Revealing, the original meaning Derive churlish, and account for its change of meaning. Cf. boorish and clownish. 436. Destroying instead of protecting. 437-8. Referring to spring frosts, which in England are sometimes, and in Canada often, destructive to vegetation and plantings. 441. The boughs are garlanded (decked) with blossom. 444. fence. — The screen referred to in 1. 440. Nom. abs. 446. gourd. — A family of plants {Cucurbitacea), mostly with trailing stems, allied to the cucumber, which Cowper here means. It includes pumpkins, squashes, etc. 447-8. coveted.— Derive. disesteemed. — Now out of use. 449-51. The spectacle of all the ages past laboriously striving to attain to the fine art of raising cucumbers may seem a little ludicrous, but in the Middle and South of Asia and South of Europe the cucumber is an important article of diet, as also its congeners, melons, gourds, pumpkins, squashes, etc. Virgil in the Georgics has celebrated such subjects, and Cowper here follows suit. It might seem a subject not likely to evoke much poetic enthusiasm, yet he appears to make the best of an unpromising theme. i»l TMK GARDKN. 7fc 453 Mantuan bard -Virgil. 70-19 B.C., born near Mantua, wrote the Eclogues, which weie pastoral in their character, and the Qeorgics, his most finished production, which relate to husbandry. His greatest work, the Mneid, is, next to the Iliad and Odyssey of Homer, the greatest epic among the ancients. Its subject, the origin of the Roman people, was suggested by Augustus. In many instances he copies from earlier poets. Homer. Theocritus, Ennius, but generally with added grace of diction, if not with added strength or vividness of imagination. No other Latin poet but Horace can dispute the palm with him. An earlier poem, Culex, The Gnat, attributed i" '-im, is alluded to here. 454. Grecian. — Homer, author of the Iliad a. id Odyssey, the greatest epics of Greece and perhaps of the world. Nothing is kn'^\<-n with ctr- tainty of his life, and his very existence ' .: been donii.,d. The Battle of the Frogs and Mice, alluded to here. Is a mock troic poem attributed 455. John Philips (not Ambrose or Namby-Pamby Philips) was a clergyman's son (1676-1708). He wrote The Splendid Sh!'ling, burles- quing Milton's grandiose style, and alsu a poem called Cider, both favorites of Cowper. 456. Cowper is apologizing ironically to the critics for the common- place subject, by citing these authors as precedents. We find Words- worth, afterwards, deliberately choosing apparently unattractive and lowly themes for his verse, and in his essays advocating a departure from the old romantic material which had so long been the stock-in- trade of poets. 459* presuming^.— Note its trans, force. 460. pant.— Seems too strong a word, perhaps chosen for alliteration. dressing^. — Bring out the meaning by a paraphrase. 463. stercoraceous heap. — (L., stercus, manure) — a euphemism for dunghill. The use of such Latinisms is one of the few faults of Cowper's clear and natural style. 464. salts. — Such as uric acid, urates of soda, ammonia, etc. The faeces of mammals hftve but little fertilizing value, being far in- ferior to the urinary excretions in this respect. But in the birds the case is very different, guano being a very valuable article of commerce. 465. potent— Not the s.Tlts, but the material of the heap. Why potent to resist ? 76 NOTES. It'!?!; ::v{ It ■■ 467. deciduous. —Applied to those trees whose leaves fall in autumn. Those trees whose leaves do not fall are called evergreens. Most trees in temperate regions are deciduous, but in tropical countries the forest always exhibits luxuriance of leafage, except where the dry season exercises the same influence as the cold with us. 469. task. — Of making a hot-bed. 472. agglomerated.— Heaped up. frame may front, etc. — Express in prose. 475. bids spread. — Whom ? See 1. 400. 476. fern. — A widely distributed family of flowerless plants, common both in Canada and in England. They vary from mere weeds or shrubs to tree-like proportions within the tropics. Notice the use of the singular here. 477. leisurely — i-e., with ease ; impose has its root meaning here. shaking. — Attributive to the implied subject of impose. 480. That which being longest binds most closely, etc. 483. Discuss the substitution of projecting for projected. Derive eaves. 484. compact.— Closely fitting. 485. clear translucent.— Something like "sound integrity." Dis- tinguish from transparent. 487. whose — i.e., the frame's. 488. dashed. — BedJlen by the rain. 490. voluble. — Revolving, the literal meaning; give the common meaning. Thrice . . axle.— Give the prose expression. Cf. Milton for a somewhat similar periphrasis : "Nine times the space that measures day and night To mortal men." — Paradise Lost, i., 50. axle. — Discuss the substitution here of axis, also of attains for attain (493). 494. pestilent. — Disease-bearing. corrosive. — An apt term for the action of those gases or vapors which chemically unite with and attack solids. 495. BcEotia, a province of ancient Greece, now part of Livadia. It was almost surrounded by mountains, ajid their proximity to its THE GARDEN. 77 numerous lakes and rivers accounts for the foggy atmosphere, to which the ancients attributed the illiterate stupidity of its people. " Bccotuni in crasso jurares acre natum," was said of a dull, lumpish fellow. Yet Boeotia produced some great men, e.g., Hesiod, Epaminondas, Pelo- pidas, Plutarch, etc. Is Cowper's simile a good one ? " Above all things, as much air as possible ought to be given; for there is always a steam or reek in a hot-bed ; and if this be not let out it destroys the stemsof the plants, and they quickly perish."— Cobbett's English Gardener, p. 112, quoted by Storr. 497. which obtained.- Imitaling the Latin construction (abl. abs.). Expand into a clause. 498. drenched. — The causative form of drink. 498-500. conservatory. — With us means a greenhouse — in olden time it was more widely applied. in volumes wheeling slow. — Very expressive of the rising of heavy vapors. Notice the personification. dank. — From Swed., dagg, dew. Compare the pronun- ciation of two g's m Greek, e.g., aggelus. 501. assuage. — From L., suavis, sweet. For similar change of consonants, cf. deluge (L., diluvium), and rage, rave (L., rabies). 502. fervor. — fermentation. conceives. — Brings into being. 503. threatening death. See note above from Cobbett. 505. Georgics, i., 133 : " Ut varias usus meditando extunderet artes Paulatim." 508-9. auspicious. — Derive, and account for its present meaning. vital motion. — Germination. • 510-12. invite. — Be favorable to. diminutive. — Called by gardeners " thumb-pots." 513-15. What particular kind is best? Why treasured? Why kept from the rain ? 517-19. manure. — To make the line scan, manure must be accented on the first syllable, or with Gritfith's reading, thus : " The smo [ king manure, j and o | ver spreads | it all." 78 NOTES. m m. Manuring, with Milton, meaDt simply tilling by hand ; earlier still, any handicraft. (Fr, manceuvre; L., manus, opera.) plung^es in.— What ? Is in the proper preposition ? fermentation. — A spontaneous change taking place in many organic bodies under the agency of heat and moisture. The com- ponents are decomposed, and their elements are reunited in new pro- portions, so as to form other compounds. Examples are— sugar from starch and gum (saccharine) ; vinegar from alcohol and sugar (vinous), vinegar from alcohol (acetous) ; and the decomposition of nitrogenous organic bodies (putrefaction). The chemical change called fermenta- tion is caused by germs which are found in most ordinary bodies, and often floating in the air. These germs or seeds, dropping into such substances as beer, sugar, milk, etc.. begin to propagate themselves, and set going the fermentative or putrefactive process. 522-23. spongy lobes. — The seed-leaves or cotyledons that first spring from the radicle (stem). The vegetable world is divided into acotyledons, mono- and di-cotyledons, according to the number of seed-leaves. livid. — Of the color of lead ; the three words are nearly synonymous. 525. friendly mats. —Is the glass roof meant ? If so, what is the force of the word strained ? 526. two leaves produced . . leaves. — Nom. absol. The seed- leaves are at the summit of the radicle. The plumule appears between them, and rises on its stem (first stalk), and expands into the first pair of leaves, etc. 528. pimple.—" From between the seed-leaves there will come out a shoot, which will presently have one rough leaf on each side of it ; then between these you will see a shoot rising. The moment this is clearly distinguishable pinch it clean out with your forefinger and thumb, and this will cause shoots to come out on both sides from the sockets of the two rough leaves which have been left." — Colibcit's Eng. Gardener, p. 1 14, quoted by Storr. interdicts— t.^., he interdicts. 531. Derive harbingfers. 532. enlargement. — More room. transplantation. — Transplanting is now the commoner word. Is in correct ? THE GARDEN. T9 536. blown — Blossomed. apparent. — Which begins to appear. 537. these. — The flowers are of two sexes. The male flowers have stamens, which consist of a fliament or stalk, at the top of which is the anther (the essential part), a case which contains a powdery substance, generally yellowish, called pollen. The female flowers have pistils, which have three parts, the ovary, the style, and the stigma. The ovary is a hollow case or pod, which contains the unfertilized seeds called ovules. The style is a stalk rising from the ovary, with the stigma at its summit. The anthers burst open, and some of the con- tained pollen falls upon, or is conveyed by insects or by the wind to the stigma. The ovttle is thus fertilized, and becomes a perfect seed. Sometimes the same flower contains both stamens and pistils, and is then called perfect. In some plants one flower may have stamens only, and another pistils only. When all the flowers on a plant have either stamens only or pistils only, it is said to be dioecious, otherwise monoecious. Most of the cucumber family are monoecious. 541. assistant art. — Rubbing out the pollen of the anthers on the stigma of pistillate flowers, and thus fertilizing the ovaries. 543. Cowper may have gained his knowledge of this subject from Dr. Erasmus Darwin, who published a poem called the Botanical Garden in 1781, and the Loves of the Plants in 1789. Dr. Darwin was the grandfather of the celebrated scientist, Charles Darwin, of our own times. 544. labor. — The rich thus benefit the general public by the dis- tribution of their wealth. Many other arguments, all more or less weak, are brought forward to defend the inequality of condition that exists. A vast amount of money so distributed in ministering to the luxury and caprice of the rich is unproductive, and adds nothing to the wealth or labor-producing power of the country. 545. half. — Often used for part or portion, e.g., the greater half, etc. 546. delicates. — The use of this word as a noun is a very harsh one So also regales in 1. 551. 551. ticklish. -Critical. 553. In hot-beds and conservatories. 555. steam.— Fogs. droug^ht. — Another form of drouth (A. S., drugian, to dry). ^57. As minute and numberless as dust. so NOTES. m 558. Is which correctly used ? 559. expedients and shifts. — Is there any difference ? 560-62. The last part seems a little apologetic for his theme. 563. would exclaim — i.e„ if I should tell every shift, etc. sarcastic. —Derive. 364. cold as its theme. — Explain the simile. 567. Bring out the meaning of the line by a paraphrase. 568. exotic- — Foreign. 570. msrrtle. — A native of the Mediterranean countries It has evergreen leaves and white flowers. With the ancients it was sacred to Venus; wreaths of it adorned the heads of bloodless victors, and were the symbols of magisterial authority (at Athens). According to location it varies from a shrub to a small-sized tree. It is raised witli difficulty even in the southernmost part of England. . . Why called spiry ? 572. Western India. — The West India Islands. 573. orange. — The orange is an evergreen, rather under-sized tree, grown as far north as the South of France and Florida. A tree twenty feet high, and twelve to fourteen in diameter of spread, often yields 3,000 oranges a year. Those from the Azores and Malta are perhaps the best. lime. — The lime belongs to the same genus (Citrus) as the lemon and orange, but is much smaller than either, being but about one and one-half inches in diameter, almost round, and with a very acid juice. The tree is only about eight feet high, with crooked trunk and prickly branches . . Distinguish from the lime or linden tree. 576. amomum. — A genus of plants of the same order as ginger, bearing aromatic and pungent seeds. What is meant here is perhaps the Jamaica pepper plant . . Another variety, found in Guinea, yields the celebrated grains of Paradise, which are used by the natives as a spice in food. The seeds are used by fraudulent dealers in liquors among us to add pungency or apparent strength to their mixtures. 577. g^eranium —Scarcely needs description. There are more than 500 species altogether, and one in North America is valuable on account of the extreme astringeiicy of its root (Alum root), which is used for gargles. THE GARDEN. 81 578. spangled. — Covered with small plates or scales of some shin- ing substances. A term very applicable to Fie j ides. 579. ficoides. — The Ice Plant, an annual herbaceous plant, native in Africa and the South of Europe, remarkable for the watery vesicles, like granules of ice, with which its surface is studded. With us it is a mere greenhouse plant, grown as a curiosity. The seeds are used as food in the Madeiras. 580. leaf — J.., with both. — Whips were longer and more unwieldy than they are in Canada, perhaps h'^cau -f- the horses were driven tandem. 357. In my opinion (account) thrice-happy, because denied, etc. sensibility of.— We now say to, and sensitiveness more fre- quently, perhaps, than sensibility. Criticise Cowper's position as to the Avaggoner's happiness. 361. unimpaired. — Parse. 363. pulse. — Derive. unhealthful. — Seldom used ; unhealthy often used incorrectly instead. 364. breathes the spleen. — Paraphrase. See previous notes on the spleen and the east wind, Garden, 1. 318 and 1. 772. Cf.Pope on the effects of spleen. Rape of the Lock, Canto iv. : . •• Hail, wayward queen ! Who give the hysteric, or poetic fit, ' On various tempers act, by various ways. Make some take physic, others scribble plays." Cowper elsewhere (So/rt, 1. 455) says: •' The spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns." i.e., in the country. searches every bone — Giving rheumatic pains. 367. thine.— Putting thine before a word beginning with an aspirate increases the difficulty of enunciation, and tends to strengthen the impression of the phrase, " helpless charge." Which is his charge, the waggon, or the beasts ? THE WINTER EVENING. HI 373- would seem. — May seem, or would wish to seem. For the explanation of such clauses see Seath, xvii., ii. 374- yet. — Applies to each of the following adjectives. 378-79. and yet find time to cool.— Explain the meaning of this, and show to what it is adversative. 380. trembles. — With cold ; so quake, below. 383. crowded knees. — Each with knees pressed close together, as is the case in extreme cold ; or, perhaps better, all crowding round the fire, presenting their limbs for warmth. 386. so. — See Garden, 1. 806. 390. Bring out the meaning of the line by a paraphrase. 391. taper. — Nom. abs. Refers to the tallow dips of that age. They were made by suspending the wicks from a frame, at distances from each other about twice the intended thickness, then dipping them into the melted tallow, then hanging them up to cool, then redipping, and so on till they were of the required size. 392. dangled along^. — Because the dips were not firm like moulds, but flexible, and had to be held near the lighted end. 393. brown loaf. — Perhaps of barley, then a common article of diet, or of coarse wheat flour. 394. sauce. — Any relish to be eaten with the dry bread. From L., sal, salt. . / 398-99. It is said that in some counties the peasants' scant vocabulary comprised scarce 300 words. Quote what Gray says in the Elegy about " chill penury." thrift, thrive. — Note the divergence in meaning. 400. parsimony. — Note the change in the meaning of this word. See Seath, iv., 40 d. 401. inventory. — A catalogue or list of movable property; such a list must be made out in every sale by sheriff or landlord. Here by metonymy for the articl' s on the list. 402. skillet. — A small kettle or pot, with a long handle on one side, for boiling water, etc., made of iron, copper, or brass. 403. extorted. —Show the forde. 406. Supply the ellipses. 408. choosing^.— Expand into a clause. ■1 1 112 NOTES. 4XX. The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes." — Hamlet, iii., i. fi't 412. knaves in office. — The Stat 43 Eliz., c. 2 (1601), taxed every ratepayer for the relief of the poor. Three or four substantial house- holders (overseers), along with the church wardens, were appointed by the Justices of the Peace in every parish, to afford relief to indigents, apprentice children, provide work for the able, etc. This gradually grew into the vicious system of out-door relief, which was at last remedied by the Act of 1834, which gradually abolished out-door relief, and instituted regularly disciplined work-houses. In three years the expenditure on the poor sank to four millions, although when the Act went into force it was over six. 413, liberal of. — Note the preposition. With is sometimes used, but incorrectly. 417. reconcile to. — When is with to be used ? 422. well trained. — By labour and privation. find their hands.— Shall know their powers, and shall labor. 425. conscious. — Is the word correctly used here ? 427. the man. — Robert Smith, a rich banker, created Lord Car- rington in 1796 ; sent money for the poor at Olney, under strict injunctions to secrecy. He " did good by stealth, and found it fame." 429. whimper. — Akin to whine. 432. nightly.— What two meanings ? Which is better here ? compensate. — Note the accent. "Balcony is bad enough, but contemplate makes me sick." — Rogers' Table-Talk. 435. Is this tautology, or a double entente ? pale. — Paling, a fence of poles or stakes. What was th« English Pale ? plash. — From L., plexum, through Fr., plesser, to intertwine or weave together the branches of a tree. Give the relation oi uptorn and resistless. 439. lame to. — An old idiomatic use for lame in. 441-42. most and "heaviest. — As heavily as possible. 444. riven. — Poetical partic. of rive, a verb seldom used. THE WINTER EVENING. 113 447-49. A remembrance of Chaucer . " He clukketh when he hath a corn yfound. And to him rcnnen then his wives alle. • Thus real, as a prince is in his halle, Leve I this chauntAlerf, in his pasture. chanticleer. — Clear singer. Fr., chanter, clair. 451. loudly wondering. — Note the happy and expressive line. 453- pity of.— Pity for. dest.tute. — Limits their. themselveS.--Nom. Abs. victims.— Is it nom. or obj. ? Analyse 11. 452-65. 460. ebriety. — Inebriety is now used, the in being intensive. When is in a negative prefix ? 462. Cowper is carried away by his indignation to propose this rather extreme legislation. His kindly nature would have been shocked at the first instance of such excessive punishment. 464. them. — The children. merry. — This is a common epithet for England, Does Cowper use the word ironically, or does he consider it as still merry (pleasant), although lean and beggared by wanton profligacy. In this spirit he says : " England, with all thy faults, I love thee still." —Timepiece, 206. 470. styes. — ^The pot-houses, or ale-houses. 473. Indian fume.— Tobacco, originally from the West Indies. Cowper detested it, and thought its only proper use was to kill vermin. boor. — Note the change in the meaning of the word. Cf. knave, villain, clown. 475. Lethe, the slow and silent stream of Hades, •' Whereof who drinks. Forthwith his former state and being forgets, Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain." — Paradise Lost, ii., 582-86. With what a different view Goldsmith says of the inn : •' Thither no more the peasant shall repair, To sweet oblivion of his daily care." — Deserted Village. u NOTES. 1 I' 480. wasted. 482. -Because unlistened to. " Chaos umpire sits, And by decision more embroils the fray." — Paradise Lost, H. 484. undecisive. — The older writers frequently prefixed un where we prefix in. Use un before English roots, in before Latin. 486. poise. — Equipoise. 488. cheek-distending^ oath. — Shakespeare says : " Swear me, Kate, a good mouth-filling oath." — z Henry IV., iii. I. 490. Storr thinks this line may allude to Lord Thurlow, a former fellow-clerk of Cowper's, a very fluent and powerful swearer, even for those days. 499. casts them out. — Transportation was at first to America and the West Indies, then to Botany Bay, Norfolk Island, etc. Thd colonies very naturally objected, and resort was had to the hulk and prison system, utilizing the convict labour for public works and some staple employments. 502. Should rather be " Stinks but is of use." The revenue argument is still used in defending the liquor trafRc and license laws 504. The first excise tax would have been acceptable to Cowper ; it was imposed on liquors by the Long Parliament in 1643. The tax has one good feature, that it is usually imposed on articles like liquor, the excessive manufacture or use of which is against public morality. Yet the necessity of close supervision and inspection makes it offensive, and costly to collect. In Walpole's time the resistance to his bonding system was especially strong. Johnson, in his dictionary, defined excise as "a hateful tax levied upon commodities, and adjudged, not by the common judges of property, but wretches hired by those to whom the excise is paid." contents.— In America accented on the first syllable usually. dribbling^. — A frequentative of drip. See Seath, viii., 5, b. 507. The story of' Midas and the golden touch is familiar to most. He was a Phrygian king, to whom, in return for his hospitality to the god Silenus, Bacchus granted the power of turning to gold all he touched. Wishing to be freed, he was allowed to become so bv bathing in the Pactolus, whose sands ever after were rich in gold. THE WINTER EVENING. 115 509. Cowper forgets that license laws and excise duties repress antl regulate the traffic, instead of encouraging it. . . 510. gloriously.— " Kings may be blest, but Tarn was glorious, O'er all the ills of life victorious." — Tarn o' Shanter. 515. Arcadian. — Maro (Virgil), in his Eclogues, celebrates the pastoral life. Arcadia was early adopted by poets and romancists as the typical land of rural innocence and bliss. The Arcadians corre spond in some respects to the Swiss of our own times. 516. Sydney. — Sir Philip (1554-86) wrote Arcadia, a pastoral romance, in honor of his sister, in " poetic prose." 517. Dianas. —That is, pure and innocent, the goddess Diana being represented as a spotless virgin. ** You seem to me as Dian in her orb. As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown." — Much Ado, iv., i. 518. their virtues.— Whose? 519-20. Virgil, Georgics, ii., 473. Why does Cowper say yielding herbage? Scott {Lady of the Lake, i., 18), speaking of Ellen Douglas, has a very different idea : " E'en the slight harebell raised its head Elastic from her airy tread." 522-23. speech and manners. — Metonymy for persons of, etc. 524. reclaimed.— rBrought back from the paths of error. 525-28. These lines are the supposed objection of some disbeliever in Cowper's Arcadian simplicity. Cowper retorts V y praising the age that could even conceive such a state of things. 529. them.— Whom? 530. like these. — The fifty years preceding Cowper certainly had few claims to praise in respect of public morals or religion. 533. tramontane. — Beyond the mountains, strange, foreign, fan- tastic. In Italian la tramontana is the north wind from over the Alps. Ultramontane, which is in common use now, is of French origin. stumbles. — Used in a causative sense. 534. polished. — A term in frequent use among the writers of this age. 538. romance. — Derive, and explain. I : 1: 116 NOTES. 539. character. -That is, of the fair shepherdess, the Arcadian. lappets. — A little loose flap of lace on a lady's headdress. 541. superbly raised.— Alluding to the high hats or headdresses. Addison, Spectator, No. 98 : "I remember several ladies that were once near seven feet high, that at present want some inches of live." The " Gainsboroughs " of to-day are nothing to them. 543. Cowper himself wore a wig. 545. Short sleeves ending in a ruffle or frill, tottering.-— Justify the epithet. 546. The high heels were imitated from the French. 548. interprets, etc.— Paraphrase. 552. Umbrellas as a sun protection were known in the East from time immemorial, as figures of them are sculptured on the stones of Persepolis. Their use by men as a rain protection is as late as che time of Queen Anne. train. — Give and connect the different meanings of the word. 554. vestals.— These were the virgin priestesses of Vesta at Rome. Their duty was to keep alive the sacred Are, the dying out of which was thought to portend some national calamity. They entered between the ages of six and ten, were six in number, and wore a great purple mantle flowing to the ground, under which were a white linen surplice and a white vest with purple borders. 566-71. — May have been suggested by Lady Austen's experience of house-breakers in the summer of 1782. They were discovered removing a pane of glass. The women of the house were so terrified that they fled to Mrs. Unwin's, where Lady Austen remained as a guest for some time, and men were put in with arms to protect the house. primed.— Refers to the old flint lock and the powder in the pan. drop. — Shoot is the common word. 569. 'lanim. — Alarum (the u is parasitic) has same derivation as alarm, a I'arme, a military term dating from the i6th century. Cowper does not seem aware of the common derivation. 573. unconscious —This word tends to personify wastes and woods. 577, inveterate —The in is intensive. This word has a double meaning : deep-seated and lasting, with its now common force of evil luperadded. conspires —See note on Garden, 654. THK WINTER KVENING. 117 579. pessimistic— Horro wed from Horace, Odes, lii., I \6, Cf. Paradise Lost, xii., 105: "Thus will this latter, as the former world, Still tend from bad to worse." fatal. — Fated, decreed by fate, in the sense of the L., fatal is. 580-82. Note the climax. Scrofulous affections arise from impurity of the blood, and s>"jw themselves by cutaneous (itchy) eruptions. 586. order. — Explain. 595. Cowper has many hits at the parsons, most of whom well deserved them. magisterial sword.— /tomans xiii., 4, reverence and worship. —The parson and the magistrate in his own person. A common enou^n combination of ofKces in England. 601. band. — Gang of ruffians. Referring, perhaps, to the gross leniency of the magistrates in the Gordon Riots of 1780 603. ghostly. —Spiritual. " Ghostly counsel and consolation." 605. dainty. — Delicate, fastidious. 607. An " itching palm " means an excessive greed for money. Cf. Shakespeare, Julius Casar, iv., 3 : " Cassius, you yourself Are much condemned to have an itching palm. To sell and mart your offices for gold." smutch. — Akin to smut. 609. Walpole's saying was: "Every man has his price." See previous note on bribery. Garden, 795. fch.— In most interjections of disgust the breath is expired forcibly. 610. audit. — Audience. Audit is now a formal checking and settling of accounts. 612. venison. — Dissyllable ; the common pronunciation. Derive. speeds. — Trans, or intrans. ? 614. cause.— Patriotism. « 617. universal soldiership — Cowper refers to the militia. The old laws as to the train bands of the first three Stuarts had fallen into neglect, and during the Seven Years' War a French invasion was feared. 118 NOTES. The Hanoverian and Hessian troops brought over were thoroughly disliked by the English ; so in 1757 a national militia was organized for national defence. It was under the lords-lieutenant of the counties, but in 1871 was put under the direct control of the war office. If there should be a lack of volunteers, balloting would be resorted to. from which, of course, many classes would be exempt. The maximum annual training period of three months is seldom required, and the militia cannot be removed from the kingdom except in a national cris'.s, or by special Act of Parliament. has stabbed the heart of merit. — Paraphrase. 621. That soldiers are thrown into many immoral associations is very true, and that they are likely enough to be contaminated thereby is also true ; but that is not a necessary result. General Havelock is an illustrious example to the contrary, at once a valiant soldier and a devout Christian. Again, we may, on Christian principles, lament the necessity of soldiery of any kind ; but it would seem to many that to have a national militia, for purposes mainly of defence and not easily mobilized for aggression, is, under existing circumstances, both prudent and necessary. The chief fault has been, as in the Prussian national levies, the removal of them in training for too long a period Trom their industrial pursuits. 623. This is a rather rrse-color view of the rustic world even for Cowper's time. 625. now and then. — Parse. See Seath, ix., 10. 627. balloted. — Balloting for the militia has be?n suspended since 1829. 628. doff. — Contraction of do off, so don of do on. 631. Serjeant. — Often spelled incorrectly sergeant (both pronounced s&r'jent). He takes charge of the drill and discipline of tue soldiers. What is a serjeant-at-law, and a serjeant-at-arms ? 633. introverted.— Turned inward like an Indian's. This ungraceful habit, which seems to be natural in some cases, is also caused by rough or uneven ground, where the footing is uncertain. 634. dejected. — In its literal sense, cast down to earth, not referring to his spirits. • 636. unapt. — Better inapt, as now. 640. martial.— Derive, and give other words suggestive of classical mythology. THE WINTER EVENING. 119 642. meal. — Perhaps a substitute for hair powder. The use of hair powder had been compulsory, but was discontinued by general order in 1799, "owing to the late bad harvest ! " 644. Three years' absence might work the changes Cowper deplores' 645. He could enlist if he chose, however. 650. port. — What different derivations and meanings may this word have ? 660 blown — blossoming. 663. The contrast is between the society natural and the society artificial. 664-65. by regal warrant. — Such as chartered boroughs (671). for interest' sake. — Such as are referred to in I. 678. For interest see note on GarUen, 661. clan- — Clan» are united by ties of blood or race. 667-68. The comparison of man to a flower is not very well sustained. The prominent idea is generally that of something frail and transient. Such an idea as Johnson gives : " Catch then, O catch, the transient hour, Improve each moment as it flies ; Life's a short summer — man a flower — He dies — alas!— how soon he dies." — Ode to Winter. Or, again, in Wolsey's well-known monologue: " This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope— to morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, nips his root. And then he falls, as I do." — Henry VIII., iii., 2. 670. not to be endured.— As being piHic plagues (671). 671. chartered boroughs. —Towns, the inhabitants (burghers) of which had the right to send a representative (burgess) to Parliament. The earlier ones had the right conferred by royal charter (regal warrant). Cowper here speaks of municipal corporations, not of elections to Parliament. The Municipal Act of William IV. some what regulated the evils and confusion of the municipal system. HHI 120 NOTES. 672-80. The sentiments expressed in these lines are not wide of the truth. Stealing from the public chest was in Covvper's day a legiti- mate way of " mending a battered or bankrupt fortune." Even now it is looked on with too n;uch complacency. Again, the- corporate conscience is not nearly so tender as the individual conscience. Why ? 675. to the main.— To the public at large. 676. unimpeachable of. — Justify the preposition. ' 677. charities. — Benevolence, for example. What is the original and Scriptural meaning of charity ? . 681-83. Allude probably to Clive'$ conquests in India, and perhaps to Hastings' aggressive and tyrannous government, accounts of which were then reaching England, and causing general indignation. 685. misdeems — As the world, dazzled, wrongly deems it. as. — May be parsed as a rel. pron. 686-87. Cf.O/A^//o,iii.. 3:. • '^ " The neighing steed and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, " The royal banner, and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war." 689. atones —Derive. 690. g^aliantry. — Give the different meanings, and state which one is here intended. 692. still. — *• Abandoned and (which I regret still [yet] more than abandoned) infected, etc." Or, perhaps better, equivalent to continually. 695. Is or correct? Would n£>r be? 698. ere liberty, etc. — Note the peculiarity of the phrase, instead of saying, " Ere I had formed, etc." Refers to his school-boy days at Westminster (1741)' 699. — free. — For the relation see note on old, Garden, 190; also Seath, XV., 16. * . 701. These rural first-born efforts are not preserved to us/ His earliest extant poems were published after his death by James Croft, the brother-in-law of his cousin Theodora (the D^/m of them). Most of them are rather amatory than rural. 702. j'nglhig her poetic bells. —Reminds us of the fools cap and bells. Cowper may thus allude to their puerility and poverty of thought. THE WINTER EVENING. 121 704. This accounts for QMng^r's great fondness for Thomson, whom he sometimes imitates and impMiyes upon. 705. Thomson dealt mainly with descri'piipns of external nature. Cowper was less objective ; his Nature is nature a» opposed to art, and he more frequently contrasts the mental and moral results of town (art) and country (nature) surroundings. 706. never weary, etc. — Expand into a clause. 707 Tityrus. — A rustic swain in the first Eclogue of Virgil. The pipe of Tityrus is therefore pastoral poetry, describing or praising rjural, as opposed to urban, life. beech. — Virgil's " Recubans s b tegoiine fagi," 709. Milton. — Cdwper frequently imitates him throughout the Task. He translated his Latin poems, and intended to annotate all his poems, but completed only the first two books of Paradise Lost. 723. Ingenious Cowley. — ^Abraham Cowley (1618-67), son of a London grocer, and, like Cowper, educated at Westminster School, from which he went to Cambridge. While there he published four books of an epic called Davideis, which he never completed. He was a royalist, was ejected from Cambridge in 1643, and in 1646 went with Queen Henrietta to Paris, where he resided ten years. After the Restoration he expected preferment, but did not get it. In 1665 he retired to the country (1. 720) on an easy tenancy of the Queen's lands. 724. modem lights.— Perhaps Johnson's Lives of the Poets, which was published in 1781. Johnson characterizes Cowley's style as "metaphysic" (full of conceits), "and fashionable." One example will illustrate the character of his ingenuity or perverted wit. He hais been describing the war of the elements : •• Till they to number and first rules were brought ; Water and air he for the tenor chose. Earth made the bass, the treble, flame arose." • —Storr. 726. cobwebs of the schools.— The quaint ingenuity and verbal quibbles which had disfigured the poetry of the artificial school. 727-28. courtly though retired.— At Chertsey on the Thames near Staines. " Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley strung His living harp, and lofty Denham sung ? " —Pope, Windsor Forest, 279. 122 NOTES. 730. solitude. — Sprat, in his Life of Cowley, says : " Though he had frequent invitations to return into business, yet he never gave ear to any persuasions of profit or preferment." Cowley's prose in his essays is as stately and eloquent as his poetry is unnatural. 731-42. Analyze, and then paraphrase this passage. 737. were found. — Is the tense correct ? 738. obtains. — Holds good. 740. taste — Enjoy. Used elsewhere by Cowper in the same way, t.g.f " Acquaint thyself with God, if thou wouldst taste His works (Book v., 779), the beginning of a passage in which he explains and justifies the statement in 11. 740-41. 741-42. Supply "can taste them " after tutored none, none. 743. it. — ^The love of Nature (731). 746. whatever else, etc — May be taken as a concessive clause equal to " though they smother everything else, etc.," or as substantive used adverbially. Seath, xiv., 16, f. 749. Give the points of resemblance stated in this line. swarth. — Swart is another form ; swarthy is more common than either. 756. mint — As the familiar peppermint, spearmint, pennyroyal. 757. valerian. — A species of plant considered very ornamental, from its numerous and pretty flowers. Its roots are well-known as anti- spasmodic, stimulant, and aromatic, possessing a powerful influence on the nervous system. nis^htshade. — The Belladonna, or Deadly Nightshade, a plant important from its medicinal properties, and often mentioned by the poets. The first name (fine lady) is said to have been given on account of Its juice being used to stain the skin, and the second because it was employed to darken the eyes in mourning. It is a sort of perennial shrub, with bell-like purplish flowers and ovate leaves, bearing berries of a shining black when ripe, which, together with all parts of the plant, are narcotic and poisonous. Many deaths have occurred from its berries being mistaken for others. It is largely employed bj' medical men to soothe -rritation in nervous maladies, and oculists use it to dilate the pupil o. he eye. Atropine is prepared from it. The three plants mentioned in the text thrive best in low and damp situations, which, surrounded by the houses, constitute the well of I. 757. THE WINTER EVENING. 123 760. livery. — The clothes of a servant, as a footman, etc.. delivered to him by his master. Under the feudal system barons and knights gave distinctive uniforms to their retainers. The colors and marks of the livery should be those of the armorial shield. 761. samples. — A doublet of what other word ? 764. orange, myrtle.— See notes on Garden, 570 and 573. fragprant weed. — To what is this phrase now commonly applied ? 765. Frenchman's darlingf. — The Mignonette. Introduced into England from France by Librd Bateman in 1752. 768. of. — So Thomson, "thirst of thy applause," Autumn, 669. What is now the correct preposition ? 769. the best he may. — In the best way in which he can. 774. crazy. — Properly means as here, weak, easily crushed. It is, however, coming to be used, especially in America, more and more as a synonym of mad, demented. 784. address.-^Parse. 791. lifts, lets. — Is the number correct ? 792. Cowper grows optimistic. 799. that— What is the antecedent ? It is il BS END OF THE WINTER EVENING. ■HI THE FRIEND. ESSAYS III. -VI. LIFE OF SIR ALEXANDER BALL / WITH INTRODUCTION. NOTES. SUBJECTS FOR COMPOSITION, Etc. BY H. I. STRANG, B.A., Head Master High School, God'erich, and A. J. MOORE, B.A., Mathematical Master High School, Goderich, THE COPP. CLARK CO. (Limited), TORONTO. 1887. I! i !5i LIFE OF COLERIDGE. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, '* one of the profoundest thinkers, one . f the most imaginative poets, one of the most philosophical critics in jur literature," was born at Ottery St. Mary, in the County of Devon- shire, on the 2ist of October, 1772, at eleven o'clock in the forenoon, as ?iis father, the Vicar of the parish, has recorded with rather unusual and Shandian particularity. His father was head-master of the Gram- mar School as well, and was a distinguished scholar in Greek, Latin, Hebrew and Mathematics. His school \vas somewhat famous in the coitnty, and most of the gentlemen in the south and east of Devon sent their sons to it. Samuel Taylor was the youngest of a family of thirteen children. He describes himself as fretful, timorous and a tell-tale, the school boys always tormenting him. Thus he became an incessant reader, could read the Bible when a little over three, and at six had read a host of books, among them Robinson Crusoe and the Arabian Nights, and he tells us that his wonderful precocity made him the envy and hatred of all the boys, and the wonder of all the old women of the neighborhood. He entered the Grammar School at six, and made remarkable progress, outstripping every one of his age. He seems to have inherited a weakly state of body from his father, which was increased by his distaste for bodily exercise, and his moping over his books. In October of 1781, his simple and generous father, " an Israelite without guile," suddenly died of apoplexy. In the fall of the next yea* Coleridge donned the blue coat and the yellow breeches and stockings of Christ's Hospital, commonly called the Blue Coat School, to which he had received presentation from Judge Buller, one of his father's pupils. Here he remained eight years. The master was a relentless tyrant, and t'le boys were almost half-starved, and life to the shy and sensitive orphan (his mother was now dead) seems to have been one long misery. His one refuge was his study, and an omnivorous taste for reading. But, as an offset to the floggings and the scant diet, he secured the life-long friendship of the gentle and frolicsome Charles Lamb, the renowned author of the Essays of Elia. Lamb speaks of i. ii. LIFE OF COLERIDGE. him as " the inspired charity boy, to whom the casual passer through the cloisters listened with admiration as he unfolded in deep and sweet intonations the mysteries of lamblichus or Plotinus, or recited the Greek of Homer or Pindar." He easily kept head of his fellows, and thus in time was selected for a scholarship at Jesus College, Cambridge, where he was entered on the 5th February, 1791, and where he gained the gold medal for the Greek Ode in the summer of the same year. But he did not maintain his success ; he was very studious, but his reading was desultory and capricious. He went down to Ottery for his summer vacation (1793), and while there wrote his Songs of the Pixies. In the November following, owing probably to his worry about some debts, he suddenly left College, went to London, and enlisted as private in the 15th Light Dragoons, under the name of Silas Titus Comberbacke. He made an awkward dragoon, and suffered for his rashness. One of the captains discovered his attainments from some Latin scribbled on the stable door ; the recruit was recognized ; his friends were apprised, and he was sent back to Cambridge in the next April (1794). Having become acquainted with Southey at Oxford, he went by invitation to Bristol to meet him. Here a social community, called the Fantisocracy, was planned for the banks of the Susquehanna. All must have wives, all must do a share of manual labour, with literary for recreation. Here, too, Southey and he wrote the Fall of Robespierre* a drama in three acts. He went back to Cambridge to get his degree, but finally left in Michaelmas Term, 1794, without taking it, and returned with Southey to Bristol ''n the beginning of 1795, having made himself somewhat obnoxious to the authorities at College by his Republicanism and Unitarianism. The scheme came to nothing. For, in the first place, money was wanting ; and, in the second place, when Coleridge was previously in Bristol he had made acquaintance with three amiable sisters of the name of Fricker. Lovell, one of the Pantisocratists, had married one, and Southey and Coleridge married the other two, in October, 1795. The wives objected to the wilds of the Susquehanna ; so the matter ended. He had, during the summer of 1795, delivered two series of lectures at Bristol, some of which were published under the title. Condones ad Populum. He shortly after his marriage removed to a cottage at Nether Stowey, in Somerset, where he found a true friend in Mr. Poole. i.'i LIFE OF COLERIDGE. iii. Two miles away, at Allfoxden, Wordsworth resided, and his influence o^r Coleridge is after this even greater than Southey's. At Stowey, in daily communication with Wordsworth, was produced the best part of Coleridge's poetry.* The Ancient Mariner appeared in the same volume with Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads (1798). He also wrote here the Ode to the Departing Year ; France, an Ode ; the first part of •Christahel ; the tragedy of Remorse ; Ftars in Solitude; Frost at Mid. night ; and Kubla Khan. During these two or three years at Stowey he often acted as Unitarian minister at Taunton, and Hazlitt, who walked ten miles to hear him preach, indicates the profound impression Coleridge made on him by saying: "I could not have been more delighted if I had heard the music of the spheres." In 1798, by the liberality of the two Wedgewoods, Coleridge was enabled to visit Germany, where he remained fourteen months. He thoroughly grounded himself at Ratzeburg and Gottingen in the German language and literature, and received a bias towards philosophy and metaphysics which aflfected his whole future. Returning in 1800, he remained six months in London, writing his noble translation of Wallenstein, and also articles on various subjects for the Morning Post* Proceeding to Cumberland he joined Southey at Keswick, Wordsworth residing at that time (1801) at Grasmere. It was during this period that the nickname Lakists or Lake Poets was applied by the hostile critics to the three friends, but these names have long ceased to be a reproach. About this time, too, Coleridge changed from Republican to Royalist, and from a Unitarian to a Trinitarian. Of his remaining poetical compositions we may mention the second part oi Christahel, written in 1801, but published with the first in 1816; The Three Graves, 1805-6; The Sibylline Leaves in 1817. It is not necessary to mention other and minor pieces. * The characteristics of Coleridge's poetry are : (i) Its purely poetical nature, being the same as Spenser's in this respect. (2) Its imaginative character ; " rarely has there existed such an imagination, in which so much originality and daring were associated, and harmonizing with so gentle and tremblingly delicate a sense of beauty." (3) Its most perfect finish, inferior to nothing in the language In melody, and superior to all of his own time. (4) The mystety and weird character of such poems as The Mariner and Christahel are peculiar to Coleridge ; while in Christahel, at least, the execution and' music of the verse are * His first volume of juvenile Poems was published ia the spring of 1796. There were sonnets by Charles Lamb in it. IV. LIFE OF COLERIDGE. I absolutely perfect. Some of his smaller pieces, as the Lines tc Genevieve, are full of the most graceful and tender fancy ; while Shelley characterizes some of his odes, e.g., France, as the best in the language. In 1804 he went to Malta for his health, and while there was Secretary to Sir Alexander Ball for about fifteen months. He returned unimproved, having contracted some years before the habit of eating opium. His wife and family were living with, and on, the Southeys ; for Coleridge was not provident, and none of his publications seemed to procure him any money. In 1808 he delivered lectures on poetry and the fine arts in London, at the Royal Institution, and next year started The Friend, a serial which ran through twenty-seven numbers, and was, as usual with Coleridge, a commercial failure. In 1810 he went to London, and took up his residence with Mr. Basil Montague, and afterwards, till his death on 25th July, 1834, with Dr. Gillman. His drama, Remorse, written fifteen years before, was acted at Drury Lane with great success. Whilst here he also published his prose works, Lay Sermons (1816), the Biographia L teraria (1818), Aids to Reflection (1825), and Constitution of Church an I State (1830). His drama, Zapolya (1818), was his last poetical work of any magnitude, and was a decided failure. Coleridge's critical powers were very great ; his annotations and observations on the margins of books were always sought after ; his review of Wordsworth's poetry in the Biographia Literaria is said to be the finest example of modern literary criticism, and his Lectures on Shakespeare are not far behind it in that respect. He was the first representative of German literature and philosophy in England, and, till Carlyle came, its best expounder. In philosophy, as in everything else, Coleridge, from want of purpose and of steady ef ort, has left nothing complete as a thought-out and method .cal system. It is right to state that in his metaphysical wr)> without the least disturbance of temper, called out in reply, " I feel conhdcnt that 1 can bring you in safe ; I, therefore, must not, and, b}' the help of Almighty God, I will not leave you ! " What he promised he performed ; and after they were safely anchored, Nelson came on board of Ball's ship and embracing him with all the ardour of acknowledgment, exclaimed, " A friend in need is a friend indeed ! " At this time and on this occasion commenced that firrn and perfect friendship * between these two great men, which was interrupted only by the death of the former. The pleasing task of dwelling on this nmtual attachment I defer to that part of the present sketch which will relate to Sir Alexander Ball's opinions of Men and things. It will be sufficient for the present to say, that the two men whom Lord Nelson especially honoured were Sir Thomas Troubridge and Sir Alexander Bail ; and once, when th iy were both present, on some allusion made to the loss Df his arm, he replied, '• Who shall dare tell me that I want an arm, when J m have three right arms — this (putting forward his cvn) and Ball and Troubridge ? " 2. In the plan of the battle of the Nile it was Lord Nel- son's design, that Captains Troubridge and Ball should have led up the attack. The former was stranded ; and the latter, by accident of the wind, could not bring his ship into the line of battle till some time after the engagement had become general. With his character- istic forecast and activity of (what may not improperly be called) practical imagination, he had made arrange- 70 mcnts to meet every probable contingency. All the shrouds and sails of the ship, not absolutely necessary for its immediate management, were thoroughly wetted, and so rolled up that they were ?-3 hard and as little inflammable as so many solid cylmders of wood ; every ESSAY IV. 13 70 sailor had his approi)riate place and function, and a cer- tain number were appointed as the firemen, whose sole duty It was to be on the watch if any part of the vessel should take fire : and to these men exclusively the charge of extinguishing it was committed. It was already dark wi when he brought his ship into action, and laid her along- side L'Onent. One particular only I shall add to the known account of the memorable engagement between these ships, and this I received from Sir Alexander Ball himself. He had previously made a combustible prepa- ration, but which, from the nature of the engagement to be expected, he had purposed to reserve for the last emergency. But just at the time when, from several symptoms, he had every reason to believe that the enemy would soon strike to him, one of the lieutenants, without w his knowledge, threw in the combustible matter ; and this it was that occasioned the tremendous explosion of that vessel, which, with the deep silence and interruption of the engagement which succeeded to it, has been justly deemed the subJimest war incident recorded in history. Yet the incident which followed, and which has not, 1 believe, been publicly made known, is scarcely less impressive, though its sublimity is of a different character. At the renewal of the battle, Captain Ball, though his ship was then on fire in three different parts, laid her alongside a French eighty- four ; and a second longer obstinate contest began. The firing on the part of the French ship having at length for some time slackened, and then altogether ceased, and yet no sign given of surrender, the senior lieutenant came to Captain Ball and informed mm, tnat the hearts of his men were as good as ever, but that tney were so completely exhausted that they were scarcely capable of lifting an arm. He asked, therefore, wneiher, as the enemy had now ceased 100 u THE FRIEND. firing, the men might be permitted to lie down by their uo guns for a short time. After some reflection, Sir Alex- ander acceded to the proposal, taking of course the proper precaution to rouse them again at the moment he thought requisite. Accordingly, with the exception of himself, his officers, and the appointed watch, the ship's crew lay down, each in the place to which he was stationed, and slept for twenty minutes. They were then roused ; and started up, as Sir Alexander expressed it, more like men out of an ambush than from sleep, so co-instantaneouslj did they all obey the summons ! 120 They recommenced their fi.ie, and in a few minutes the enemy surrendered ; and it was soon after discovered, that during that interval, and almost immediately after the French ship had first ceased firing, the crew had sunk down by their guns, and there slept, almost by the side, as it were, of their sleeping enemy. h'^, ESSAY V. Whose powers shed round him in the common strife, Or mild concerns of ordinary life, A constant influence, a peculiar grace ; But who if he be call'd upon to face Some awful moment, to which Heaven has join'd Great issues, good or bad for human kind, Is happy as a lover, is attired 1 With sudden brightness like a man inspired ; And through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calnmess made, and sees what he foresaw. Wordsworth. I. An accessibility to the sentiments of others on sub- jects of importance often accompanies feeble minds, yet it is not the less a true and constituent part of practical greatness, when it exists wholly free from that passive- ness to impression which renders counsel itself injurious ESSAY V. 16 to certain charactcrb, and from that weakness of heart which, in the Hteral sense of the word, is always craving advice. Exempt from all such imperfections, say rather in perfect liarmony with the excellences that preclude them, this openness to the influxes of good sense and lo information, from whatever quarter they might come, equally characterized both Lord Nelson and Sir Alex- ander Ball, though each displayed it in the way best suited to his natural temper. The fc^rmer with easy liand collected, as it passed by him, whatever could add to his own stores, appropriated what he could assimilate, and levied subsidies of knowledge from all the accidents of social life and familiar intercourse. Even at the jovial board, and in the height of unrestrained merriment, a casual suggestion, that flashed a new light on his mind, -'o changed the boon companion into the hero and the man of genius ; and with the most graceful transition he would make his company as serious as himself. When the taper of his genius seemed extinguished, it was still sur- rounded by an inflammable atmosphere of its own, and rekindled at the first approach of light, and not seldom at a distance which made it seem to flame up self-revived. In Sir Alexander Ball, the same excellence was more an affair of system ; and he would listen, even to weak men, with a patience, which, in so careful an economist of •■.< time, always demanded my admiration, and not seldom excited my wonder. It was one of his maxims, that a man may suggest what he cannot give; adding, that a wild or silly plan had more than once, from tiie vivid sense and distinct perception of its folly, occasioned liim to oee what ought to be done in a new light, or with a clearer insight. There is, indeed, a hopeless sterility, a mere negation of sense and thought, which, suggesting neither difference nor contrast, cannot even furnish hints 10 THE FRIEND. ,1 1 . 11 ' for recollection. But on the other hand, there are minds « so whimsically constituted, that they may sometimes be profitably interpreted by contraries, a process of which the great Tycho Brahe is said to have availed himself in the case of the little Lackwit, who used to sit and mutter at his feet while he was studying. A mind of this sort we may compare to a magnetic needle, the poles of wliich had been suddenly reversed by a flash of light- ning, or other more obscure accident of nature. It moy be safely concluded, that to those whose judgment or informntion he respected. Sir Alexander Ball did not 5i» content himself with giving access and attention. No! he seldom failed of consulting them whenever the subject permitted any disclosure ; and where secrecy was neces- sary, he well knew how to acquire their opinion without exciting even a conjecture concerning his immediate object. 2. Yet, witli all this readiness of attention, and with all this zeal in collecting the sentiments of the well-in- formed, never was a man more completely un i nil u( need by authority than Sir Alexander Ball, never one wlio m sought less to tranquillize his own doubts by the mere suffrage and coincidence of others. The ablest sugges- tions had no conclusive weight with him, till he had abstracted the opinion from its author, till he had reduced it into a part of his ovvr nind. The thoughts of others were always accepta^i.' , as affording him at least a chance of adding to his mater: Is for rejection ; but they never directed his judgment, much less superseded it. He even made a point of guarding against additional confidence in the suggestions of his own mind, from finding that a person of talents had formed the same con- viction ; unless the person, at the same time, fiirnislied some new argunienl, or had arrived at the same conclii- 711 m ESSAY V. 17 711 80 sion by a difTcrent road. On the latter circumstance he set an especial value, and, I may almost say, courted tiie company and conversation of those whose pursuits had least resembled his own, if he thought them men of clear and comprehensive faculties. During the period of our intimacy, scarcely a week passed in which he did not desire me to think of some particular subject, and to give him the result in writing. Most frequently, by the time I had fulfilled his request he would have written down his own thoughts ; and then, with the true simpli- city of a great mind, as free from ostentation as it was above jealousy, he would collate the two papers in my presence, and never expressed more pleasure than in the few instances in which I had happened to light on all the arguments and points of view v/hich had occurred to himself, with some additional reasons which had escaped him. A single new argument delighted him more than w the most perfect coincidence, unless, as before stated, the train of thought had been very different from his own, and yet just and logical. He had one quality of mind, which I have heard attributed to the la'.e Mr. Fox, tliat of deriving a keen pleasure from clear and powcrlul reasoning for its own sake — a quality in the intellect which is nearl}' connected with veracity and a love of justice in the moral character.* 3. Vahnng in others merits which he himself possessed. Sir Alexander Ball felt no jealous apprehension of great im; talent. Unlike those vulgar functionaries, whose place * It may not be amiss to add, that the pleasure from tlie percep- tion of truth was so well poised and regulated by the equal or greater delight in utility, that his love of real accuracy was accompanied with a proportionate dislike of that hollow appearance of it, which _. 1>„ .^■>-v^m4<->.-k/l li.. tllt-T^C? r^f T^r»T"^Ci.* «t?A***/^f t-k|-^*^^^/H ■•-» l-x<-\ln— k.^,.,1 ^ — i 1 nay be produced b) turns of phrase;, words pLaccd in balanced anti- Jiesis, and tho:.e epigrammatic points that pass for subtle and iu-ni- nous distinctions with, ordinary readers, but are most commonly m th 18 THE FRIEND. !l ' ]*' H' ^'.>:U' : I ,.- ■ \. 'M 11(1 is too big for them, a truth which they attempt to dis- i;i.iise from themselves, and yet feel, he was under no necessity of arming himself against the natural superi- ority of genius by factitious contempt and an industrious association of extravagance and impracticability, with every deviation from the ordinary routine ; as the geo- graphers in the middle ages used to designate on their meagre maps, the greater part of the world, as deserts or wildernesses, inhabited by griffins and chimaeras. Competent to weigh each system or project by its own arguments, he did not need these preventive charms and cautionary amulets against delusion. He endeavoured to make talent instrumental to his purposes in whatever shape it appeared, and with whatever imperfections it might be accompanied ; but wherever talent was blended with moral worth, he sought it out, loved and cherished it. If it had pleased Providence to preserve his life, and to place him on the same course on which Nelson ran his race of glory, there are two points in which Sir Alex- vai ander Ball v/obld most closely have resembled his illustrious friend. The first is, that in his enterprises and engagements he v/ould have thought nothing done, till all had been cone that was possible : — Nil actum reputans, si quid superesset agendum. The second, that he would have called forth all the talent and virtue that existed within his sphere of inlluence, translatable into mere truisms or trivialities, if indeed they ^ontain any meaning at all. Having observed in some casual conversation, that though there were doubtless masses of matter unorganized, 1 saw no ground for asserting a mass of unorganized matter ; Sir A. B. paused, and then said to me, with that frankness of manner which made his very rebukes gratifying, "The distinction is just, and, now I understand you, abundantly obvious ; but hardly worth the trouble of your inventing a puzzle of words to make it appear otherwise " I trust the rebuke was not lost on me. ESSAY V. 19 and created a band of heroes, a gradation oi" officers, sirong in head and strong in heart, worth.y to have been his companions and his successors in fame and public J3o r.sefulness. 4. Never was greater discernment shov/n in the selec- tion of a fit agent, than when Sir Alexander Ball wa3 stationed off the coast of Malta to intercept the supplies destined for the French garrison, and to v/atch the movements of the French commanders, and those of the inhabitants who had been so basely betrayed into their power. PJ^iicouraged by the well-timed promises of the English captain, the Maltese rose through all their casals (or country towns) and themselves com- 1*0 menced the work of tlieir emancipation, by storming the citadel at Civita Vecchia, the ancient metropolis of Malta, and the central height of the island. Without discipline, without a military leader, and almosL without arms, these brave peasants succeeded, and destroyed the French garrison by throv/ing them over the battlements into the trench of the citadel. In the course of this blockade, and of the tedious siege of Valetta, Sir Alex- ander Ball displayed all that strength of character, that variety and versatility of talent, and that sagacity, iso derived in part from habitual circumspection, but v/hich, when the occasion demanded it, appeared intuitive and like an instinct ; at the union of which, in the same man, one of our oldest naval commanders once told me, *• he could never exliaust his wonder." The citizens of Valetta were fond of relating their astonishment, and that of the French, at Captain Ball's ship wintering at anchor out of the reach of the guns, in a depth of fathom unex- ampled, on the assured impracticability of which the garrison had rested their main hope of regular supplies, iwj Nor can 1 forget, or remember without some portion of 20 THE FRIEND. my original feeling, the solemn enthusiasm with which a venerable old man, belonging to one of the distant casals, showed me the sea coombe, where their father Ball (for so they commonly called him) first landed, and afterwards pointed out the very place on which he first stepped on their island ; while the countenances of his townsmen who accompanied him, gnve lively proofs that the old man's enthusiasm was the representative of the common feeling. iti 5. There is no reason to suppose that Sir Alexander Ball was at any time chargeable with that weakness so frequent in Englishmen, and so injurious to our interests abroad, of despising the inhabitants of other countries, of losing all their good qualities in their vices, of making no allowance for those vices, from tlieir religious or political impediments, and still more, of mistaking for vices a mere difference of manners and customs. But if ever he had any of this erroneous feeling, he completely freed himself from it by living among the Maltese during in* their arduous trials, as long as the French continued masters of their capital. He witnessed their virtues, and learnt to understand in \vhat various shapes and even disguises the valuable parts of human nature ma}- exist. In many individuals, whose littleness and meanness in the common intercourse of life would have stamped lliem at once as contemptible and worthless, with ordinary Englishmen, he had found such virtues of disinterested patriotism, fortitude, and self-denial, as would have done honor to an ancient Roman. m 6. There exists in England a gentlemanly character, a gentlemanly feeling, very different even from that which is the most like it, the character of a well-born Spaniard, and unexampled in the rest of Europe. This feeling probably originated in the fortunate circumstance that ESSAY V. 21 I7» IS* the titles of our English nobility follow the law of their property, and are inherited by the eldest sons only. From this source, iiiider the influences of our constitution, and of our astonishing trade, it has diffused itself in different modifications through the whole country. The uniform- m ity of our dress among all classes above that of the day laborer, while it has authorized all classes to assume the appearance of gentlemen, has, at the same time, in- spired the wish to conform their manners, and still more their ordinary actions in social intercourse, to their notions of the gentlemanly, the most commonly received attribute of v/hich character is a certain generosity in trifles. On the other hand, the encroachments of the lower classes on the higher, occasioned, and favoured by this resemblance in exteriors, by this absence of any 210 cognizable marks of distinction, have rendered each class more reserved and jealous in their general communion, and far more than our climate, or natural temper, have caused that haughtiness and reserve in our outward demeanour, which is so generally complained of among foreigners. Far be it from me to depreciate the value of this gentlemanly feeling ; I respect it under all its forms and varieties, from the House of Commons to the gentle- men in the one shilling gallery. It is always the orna- ment of virtue, and oftentimes a support ; but it is a tM wretched substitute for it. Its worth, as a moral good, is by no means in proportion to its value, as a social advantage. These observations are not irrelevant ; lor to the want of reflection, that this diffusion of gentle- manly feeling among us is not the growth of our moral excellence, but the effect of various accidental advantages peculiar to England ; to our not considering that it is unreasonable and uncharitable to expect the same con- sequences, where the same causes have not existed to 22 THE FRIEND. I', '' .,; j li ! li ' 'P produce them ; and, lastl)', to our prononoss to regard srst the absence of tliis character (wliich, as I have before said, does, for the greater part, and, in the common apprehension, consist in a certain frankness and gener- osity in the detail of action) as decisive against the sum total of personal or national worth ; we must, I am con- vinced, attribute a large portion of that conduct, which in many instances has left the inhabitants of countries conquered or appropriated by Great Britain, doubtful whether the various solid advantages which they derived from our protection and just government, were not bought •-'« dearly by the wounds inflicted on their feelings and pre- judices, by the contemptuous and insolent demeanor of the EngHsh as individuals. The reader who bears this remark in mir ^ will meet, in the course of this narration, more than one passage that will serve as its comment and illustration. 7. It was, I know, a general opinion among the English in the Mediterranean, that Su- Alexander Ball thought too well of the Maltese, and did not share in the enthu- siasm of Britons concerning their own superiority. To 250 the former part of the charge I shall only reply at present, that a more venial, and almost desirable fault, can scarcely be attributed to a governor, tlian that of a strong attachment to the people whom he was sent to govern. The latter part of the charge is false, if we are to understand by it, that he did not think his country- men superior on the whole to the other nations of Europe ; but it is true, as far as relates to his belief, tliat the English thought themselves still better than they are ; that they dwelt on, and exaggerated their national aw virtues, and weighed them by the opposite vices .»f foreigners, instead of the virtues which those foreigners possessed, and they themselves wanted. Above all. as ESSAY V. 2^ statesmen, we must consider qualities hy their practical uses. Thus, he entertained no doubt that the English were superior to all others in the kind and the degree of their courage, which is marked hy far greater enthusiasm than the courage of the Germans and northern nations, and by a far greater steadiness and self-subsistency than that of the French. It is more closely connected with 271: the character of the individual. The courage of an English army (he used to say) is the sum total of the courage which the individual soldiers bring with them to it, rather than of that which they derive from it. This remark of Sir Alexander's was forcibly recalled to my mind when I was at Naples. A Russian and an English regiment were drawn up together in tlie same square, — '• See," said a Neapolitan to me, who had mistaken me for one of his countrymen, "there is but one face in that whole regiment, while in that (pointing to the English) 2t* every soldier has a face of his own " On the other hand, there are qualities scarcely less requisite to the completion of the military character, in which Sir A. did not hesitate to think the English inferior to conti- nental nations ; as for instance, both in the power and disposition to endure privations ; in the friendly temper necessary when troops of different nations are to act in concert ; in their obedience to the regulations of their commanding officers, respecting the treatment of the inhabitants of the countries through which they are marching, as well as in many other points, not immedi- ately connected with their conduct in the field : and, above all, in sobriety and temperance. During the siege ol Valetta, especially during the sore distress to which the besiegers were for some time exposed from the failure of provision, Sir Alexander Ball had an ample opportunity of observing and weiging the separate merits 2JHJ IMAGE EVALUATrON TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 '^° li^ 1 2.2 i ^ IIIIIM U IIIIII.6 ^^ «^/ A A 'cr- '>. :> v: y /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 (716) 872-4S03 L Sg ^ <> 24 THE FRIEND. and demerits of the native and of the Enghsh troops ; and surely since the pubhcation of Sir John Moore's campaign, there can be no just offence taken, though I aw should say, that before the walls of Valetta, as well as in the plains of Galicia, an indignant commander might, with too great propriety, have addressed the English soldiery in the words of an old dramatist : Will you still owe your virtues to your bellies ? And only then think nobly when y'are full ? Doth fodder keep you honest ? Are you bad When out of flesh ? And think you't an excuse Of vile and ignominious actions, that Y' are lean and out of liking ? sii Cartwright's Love's Convert. 8. From the first insurrectionary movement to the final departure of the French from the island, though the civil and military powers and the whole of the island, save Valetta, were in the hands of the peasantry, not a single act of excess can be charged against the Maltese, if we except the razing of one house at Civita Vecchia belonging to a notorious and abandoned traitor, the creature and hireling of the French. In no instance did they injure, insult, or plunder any one of the native sai nobility, or employ even the appearance of force toward them, except in the collection of the lead and iron from their houses and gardens, in order to supply themselves with bullets; and this very appearance was assumed from the generous wish to shelter the nobles from the resent- ment of the French, should the patriotic efforts of the peasantry prove unsuccessful. At the dire command of famine the Maltese troops did indeed orce force their way to the ovens, in which the bread for the British soldiery was baked, and were clamorous that an equal division sn should be made. I m.ention this unpleasant circum- stance, because it brought into proof the firmness of Sir ESSAY V. 25 su Alexander Ball's character, his presence of mind, and generous disregard of danger and personal responsibility, where the slavery or emancipation, the misery or the happiness, of an innocent and patriotic people were involved ; and because his conduct in this exigt;nry evinced that his general habits of circumspection and deliberation were the results of wisdom and complete self-possession, and not the easy virtues of a spirit con- mo Ktitutionally timorous and hesitating. He was sitting at table with the principal British officers, when a certain general addressed him in strong and violent terms con- cerning this outrage of the Maltese, reminding him of the necessity of exerting his commanding influence in the present case, or the consequences must be taken. •* What," replied Sir Alexander Ball, *' would you have us do ? Would you have us threaten death to men dying with famine ? Can you suppose that the hazard of being shot will weigh with whole regiments acting soo under a common necessity ? Does not the extremity of hunger take away all difference between men and animals? And is it not as absurd to appeal to the pru- dence of a body of men starving, as to a herd of famished wolves ? No, general, I will not degrade myself or out- rage humanity by menacing famine with massacre ! More effectual means must be lak«n." With those words he rose and left the room, and having first con- sulted with Sir Thomas Troubridge, he determined at his own risk on a step, which the extreme necessity »»> warranted, and which the conduct of the Neapolitan court amply justified. For this court, though terror- stricken by the French, was still actuated by hatred to the English, and a jealousy of their power in the Medi- terranean ; and this in so strange and senseless a manner, that we must join the extremes of imbecility and treachery SSM 26 THE FRIEND. in the same cabinet, in order to find it comprehensible.* Though the very existence of Naples and Sicily, as a nation, depended wholly and exclusively on British support ; though the royal family owed their personal sn safety to the British fleet ; though not only their domin- ions and their rank, but the liberty and even the lives of Ferdinand and his family, were interwoven with our success ; yet with an infatuation scarcely credible, the most affecting representations of the distress of the besiegers, and of the utter insecurity of Sicily if the French remained possessors of Malta, were treated with neglect ; and the urgent remonstrances for the permis- sion of importing corn from Messina were answered only by sanguinary edicts precluding all supply. Sirs* Alexander Ball sent for his senior lieutenant, and gave him orders to proceed immediately to the port of Messina, and there to seize and bring with him to Malta the ships laden with corn, of the number of which Sir Alexander had received accurate information. These orders were executed without delay, to the great delight and profit of the ship owners and proprietors ; the necessity of raising the siege was removed ; and the author of the measure • It cannot be doubted, that the sovereign himself was kept in a state of delusion. Both his understanding and his moral principles are far better than could reasonably be expected from the infamous mode of his education ; if indeed the systematic preclusion of all knowledge, and the unrestrained indulgence of his passions, adopted by the Spanish court for the purposes of preserving him dependent, can be called by the name of education. Of the other influencing persons in the Neapolitan government, Mr. Leckie has given us a true and lively account. It will be greatly to the advantage of the present narration, if the reader should have previously perused Mr. Leckie's pamphlet on the state of Sicily : the facts which I shall have occasion to mention hereafter will reciprocally confirm and be confirmed by the documents furnished in that most interesting work ; in which I see but one blemish of importance, namely, that the author appears too frequently to consider justice and true policy as capable of being contradistinguished. ESSAY V. 27 waited in calmness for the consequences th it might result to liiinsell personally. I'Ul not a comi»lainl, not am murmur proceeded hau) the court of Naples. The sole result was, that the governor oi Malta became an especial object of its hatred, its fear, and its respect. 9. The whole of this tedious siege, from its commence- ment to the signing of the capitulation, called forth into constant activity the rarest and most difficult virtues of a commandmg mind ; virtues of no show or splendor in the vulgar apprehension, yet more infallible character- istics of true greatness than the most unequivocal dis- plays of enterprise and active daring. Scarcely a day 400 passed in which Sir Alexander Ball's patience, forbear- ance, and inflexible constancy were not put to the severest trial. He had not only to remove the mis- understandings that arose between the Maltese and their allies, to settle the difterences among the Maltese themselves, and to organize their efibrts ; he was lik(!wise engaged in the more difficult and unthankful task of counteracting the weariness, discontent, and despondency of his own countrymen — a task, however, winch he accompHshed by management and address, and an 410 alternation of real firmness with apparent yiekling. During many months he remained the only Englishman who did not think the siege hopeless, and the object worthless. He often spoke of the time in which he resided at the country seat of the grand master at St. Antonio, four miles from Valetta, as perhaps the u.ost trying period of his life. For some weeks Captain Vivian was his sole English companion, of whom, as his partner in anxiety, he always expressed himself with affectionate esteem. Sir Alexander Ball's presence was 4» absolutely necessary to the Maltese, who, accustomed to be governed by him, became incapable of acting in concert 28 THE FRIEND. ^!iii without his immediate influence. In the outburst of popular emotion, the impulse which produces an insur- rection is for a brief while its sufficient pilot ; the attraction constitutes the cohesion, and the common provocation, supplying an immediate object, not only unites, but directs the multitude. Bnt this first impulse had passed away, and Sir Alexander Ball was the one individual who possessed the general confidence. On «3i him they relied with implicit faith ; and even after they had long enjoyed the blessings of British government and protection, it was still remarkable with what child- like helplessness they were in the habit of applying to him, even in their private concerns. It seemed as if they thought him made on purpose to think for them all. Yet his situation at St. Antonio was one of great peril ; and he attributed his preservation to the dejection which had now begun to prey on the spirits of the Fiench garrison, and which rendered thcni unenter- m prising and almost passive, aided by the dread which the nature of the country inspired. For, subdivided as it was into small fields, scarcely larger than a cottage garden, and each of these little squares of land inclosed with substantial stone walls ; these too from the necessity of having the fields perfectly level, rising in tiers above each other ; the whole of the inhabited part of the island was an effective fortification for all the purposes of annoyance and oflfensive warfare. Sir Alexander Ball exerted himself successfully in procuring information isu respecting the state and temper of the garrison, and, by the assistance of the clergy and the almost universal fidelity of the Maltese, contrived that the spies in the pay of the French should be in truth his own most con- fidential agents. He had already given splendid proofs that he could outfight them ; but here, and in his after ESSAY V. 29 ot ir- iie 3n ily Ise me ley ent ild- : to s if lem reat tion the iter- "« lich ELS it age Dsed sity jove and s of Ball tion «M .by rsal the con- oofs fter diplomatic intercourse previous to the recommencement of the war, he likewise outwitted them. He once told me with a smile, as we were conversing on the practice of laying wagers, that he was sometimes inclined t0 4« think that the final perseverance in the siege was not a little indebted to several valuable bets of his own, he well knowing at the time, and from information which iiimself alone possessed, that he should certainly lose them. Yet this artifice had a considerable effect in sus- pending th^ impatience of the officers, and in supplying topics for dispute and conversation. At length, however, the two French frigates, the sailing of which had been the subject of these wagers, left the great harbour on tlie 24th of August, 1800, with a part of the garrison ; and in* one of them soon became a prize to the English. Sir Alexander Ball related to me the circumstances which occasioned the escape of the other ; but I do not recol- lect them with sufficient accuracy to dare repeat them in this place. On the 15th of September following, the capitulation was signed, and after a blockade of two years the English obtained possession of Valetta, and remained masters of the whole island and its depen- dencies. 10. Anxious not to give offence, but more anxious to48n communicate the truth, it is not without pain that I find myself under the moral obligation of remonstrating against the silence concerning Sir Alexander Ball's services or the transfer of them to others. More than once has the latter aroused my indignation in the reported speeches of the House of Commons ; and as to the former, I need only state that in Rees's Encyclo- paedia there is an historical article of considerable length under the word Malta, in which Sir Alexander's name does not once occur ! During a residence of eighteen 4» 30 THE FKIEND. 'I months in that island, I possessed and availed myself of the best possible means of information, not only from eye-witnesses, but likewise from the principal agents themselves. And I now thus publicly and unequivocally assert, that to Sir A. Ball pre-eminently — and if I had said, to Sir A. Bali alone, the ordinary use of the word under such circumstances would bear me out — the capture and the preservation of Malta were owing, with every blessing that a powerful mind and a wise heart could confer on its docile and grateful inhabitants, aw With a similar pain I proceed to avow my sentiments on this capitulation, by which Malta was delivered up to his Britannic Majesty and his allies, without the least mention made of the Maltese. With a warmth honor- able both to his head and his heart. Sir Alexander Ball pleaded, as not less a point of sound policy than of plain justice, that the Maltese, by some representative, should be made a party in the capitulation, and a joint subscriber in the signature. They had never been the slaves or the property of the Knights of St. John, but freemen and the sio true landed proprietors of the country, the civil and military government of which, under certain restrictions, had been vested in that order ; yet checked by the rights and influences of the clergy and the native nobility, and by the customs and ancient laws of the island. This trust the Knights had, with the blackest treason and the most profligate perjury, betrayed and abandoned. The right of government of course reverted to the landed proprietors and the clergy, Animated by a just sense of this right, the Maltese had risen of their own accord, sw had contended for it in defiance of death and danger, had fought bravely, and endured patiently. Without undervaluing the military assistance afterwards furnished by Great Britain (though how scanty this was before the ESSAY V. 31 arrival of General Pigot is well known), it remains undeniable, that the Maltese had taken the greatest share botli in the fatigues and in the privations conse- quent on the siege ; and that had not the greatest virtues and the most exemplary fidelity been uniformly displayed by them, the English troops (they not being 6» more numerous than they had been for the greater part of the two years) could not possibly have remained before the fortifications of Valetta, defended as that city was by a French garrison, that greatly outnumbered the British besiegers. Still less could there have been the least hope of ultimate success ; as, if any part of the Maltese peasantry had been friendly to the French, or even indifferent, if they had not all indeed been most zealous and persevering in their hostility towards them, it would have been impracticable so to blockade that island as to 540 have precluded the arrival of supplies. If the siege had proved unsuccessful, the Maltese were well aware that they should be exposed to all the horrors which revenge and wounded pride could dictate to an unprincipled, rapacious, and sanguinary soldiery ; and now that suc- cess has crowned their efforts, is this to be their reward, that their own allies are to bargain for them with the French, as for a herd of slaves, whom the French had before purchased from a former proprietor ? If it be urged, that there is no established governmeit in Malta, ew is it not equally true that through the whole population of the island there is not ^ single dissentient ? and thus that the chief inconvenience, which an established authority is to obviate, is virtually removed by the admitted fact of their unanimity ? And have they not a bishop, and a dignified clergy, their judges and muni- cipal magistrates, who were at all times sharers in the power of the government, and now, supported by the m 32 THE FKIhND. unaiiiiuons siifrrajj;e of the inhabitants, have a rightful claim to hv considered as its representatives ? Will it m« not be oftencr said than answered, that the main differ- ence between French and English injustice rests in this jK)ini: alone, that the P'rench seized on the Maltese without any previous pretences of friendship, while the English procured possession of the island by means of their friendly promises, and by the co-operation of the natives afforded in confident reliance on these promises ? The impolicy of refusing the signature on the part of the Maltese was equally evident ; since such refusal could answer no one purpose but that of alienating their afTec- sr* tions by a wanton insult to their feelings. For the Maltese were not only ready but desirous and eager to place themselves at tlie same time under British protec- tion, to take the oaths of loyalty as subjects of the British crown, and to acknowledge their island to belong to it. These representations, however, were overruled ; and I dare affirm, from my own experience in the Mediter- ranean, that our conduct in this instance, added to the impression which had been made at Corsica, Minorca, and elsewhere, and was often referred to by men of am reflection in Sicily, who have more than once said to me. '* A connection with Great Britain, with the conse- quent extension and security of our commerce, are indeed great blessings : but who can rely on their permanence ? or that we shall not be made to j)a\' bitterly for our zeal as partisans of England, whenever it shall suit its plans to deliver us back to our old oppressors ? " M Ift ESSAY VI. 38 ESSAY VI. The way of ancient ordinance, though it winds, Is yet no devious way. Straight forward goes The lightning's path ; and straight the fearful patli Of the cannon-ball. Direct it flies and rapid, Shattering that it may reach, and shattering what it reaches. My son ! the road the human being travels, That on which blessing comes and goes, doth follow The river's course, the valley's playful windings, Curves round the corn-field and the hill of vines, Honoring the holy bounds of property ! There exists A higher than the warrior's excellence. — Wallenstein. I. Captain Ball's services in Malta were honored with his sovereign's approbation, transmitted in a letter from the Secretary Dundas, and with a baronetcy. A thousand pounds * were at the same time directed to be paid him from the Maltese treasury. The best and most appropriate addition to the applause of his king and his country, Sir Alexander Ball found in the feelings and faithful affection of the Maltese. The enthusiasm manifested in reverential gestures and shouts of triumph • I scarce know whether it be worth mentioning that this sum remained undemanded till the spring of the year 1805; at which time the writer of these sketches, during an examination of the treasury accounts, observed the circumstance and noticed it to the Governor, who had suffered it to escape altogether from his memory, for the latter years at least. The value attached to the present by the receiver must have depended on his construction of its purpose and meaning ; for, in a pecuniary point of view, the sum was not a moiety of what Sir Alexander had expended from his private fortune during the blockade. His immediate appointment to the govern- ment of the island, so earnestly prayed for by the Maltese, would doubtless have furnished a less questionable proof that his services were as highly estimated by the niinistry as they were graciously accepted by his sovereign. But this was withheld as long as it remained possible to doubt, whether great talents, joined to local experience, and the confidence and affection of the inhabitants, might not be dispensed with in the person entrusted with that government. Crimen hi their fields, fell into ranks, and followed, or preceded him, singing the Maltese song which had been made in his honor, and which was scarcely less famihar to the inhabitants of Malta and Gozo, than God save the King to Britons. When he went to the gate through the city, the young mt., efrained talking ; and the aged arose and stood up. When the ear heard, then it blessed him ; and when the ev saw him, if gave witress to him: because he delivered ine poor th.u cried, and the fatherless, and those that had none tr. help them. The blessing of them that m were ready to perish came upon him, and he caused the widow* s heart to sing for joy. 2. These feelings were afterwards amply justified by his administration of the government ; and the very excesses of their gratitude on their first deliverance proved in the end only to be acknowledgments ante- dated. For some time after the departure of the French the distress was so general and so severe that a large proportion of the lower classes bocame mendi- cants, and one of the greatest thoroughfares of Valetta w still retains the name of " Nix mangiare stairs," from the crowd who used there to assail the ears of the passengers with cries of " nix mangiare,'" or " nothing to eat," the former word nix being the low German pronunciation of nichts, nothing. By what means it was introduced into Malta, I know not ; but it became the common vehicle both of solicitation and refusal, the Maltese thinking it an English word, and the English supposing it to be Maltese. . I often felt it as a pleasing remembrancer of the evil day gone by, to when a tribe of little children, quite naked, as is the jii 36 THE FRIEND. If f custom of that climate, and each with a pair of gold ear- rings in its ears, and all fat and beautifully proportioned, would suddenly leave their play, and looking round to see that their parents were not in sight, change their shouts of merriment for " nix mangiare ! " awkwardly imitating the plaintive tones of mendicancy ; while the white teeth in their little swarthy faces gave a splendor to the happy and confessing laugh, with which they received the good-humored rebuke or refusal, and ran m back to their former sport. 3. In the interim between the capitulation of the French garrison and Sir Alexander Ball's appointment as his Majesty's civil commissioner for Malta, his zeal for the Maltese was neither suspended nor unproductive of important benefits. He was enabled to remove many prejudices and misunderstandings ; and to per'.ons of no inconsiderable influence gave juster notions jf the true importance of the island to Great Britain. He displayed the magnitude of the trade of the Mediterianean in its »• existing state ; showed the immense exten . to which it might be carried, and the hollowness of the opinion that this trade was attached to the south of Fr.mce by any natural or indissoluble bond of connection, i have some reason for likewise believing that his wise aid patriotic representations prevented Malta from being made the seat of and pretext for a numerous civil establishment, in hapless imitation of Corsica, Ceylon, and the v^ape of Good Hope. It was at least generally rumored, that it had been in the contemplation of the ministry to i'j« appoint Sir Ralph Abercrombie as governor, with a salary of £10,000 a year, and to reside in England, while one of his countrymen was to be the lieutenant-governor, at £"5,000 a year ; to which were to be added a long et cetera of other offices and places of proportional emolu- ESSAY VI. ment. This threatened appendix to the stale calendar may have existed only in the imaginations of the reporters, yet inspired some uneasy apprehensions in the minds of many well-wishers to the Maltese, who knew that — for a foreign settlement at least, and one, too, m possessing in all the ranks and functions of society an ample population of its own — such a stately and wide- branching tree of patronage, though deliglitful to the individuals who are to pluck its golden apples, sheds, like the manchineel, unwholesome and corrosive dews on the multitude who are to rest beneath its shade. It need not, however, be doubted, that Sir Alexander Ball would exert himself to preclude any such intention, by stating and evincing the extreme impolicy and injustice of the plan, as well as its utter inutility, in the case of 120 Malta. With the exception of the governor, and of the public secretary, both of whom undoubtedly should be natives of Great Britain, and appointed by the British Government, there was no civil office that could be of the remotest advantage to the island which was not already filled by the natives, and the functions of which none could perform so well as they. The number of inhabitants (he would state) was prodigious compared with the extent of the island, though from the fear of the Moors one-fourth of its surface remained unpeopled and no uncultivated. To deprive, therefore, the middle and lower classes of such places as they had been accustomed to hold, would be cruel ; while the places held by the nobility were, for the greater part, such as none but natives could perform the duties of. By any innovation we should affront the higher classes and alienate the affections of all, not only without any imaginable advan- tage but with the certainty of great loss. Were English- men to be employed, the salaries must be increased 38 THB FRIEND. P- I i fourfold, and would yet be scarcely worth acceptance ; i4i and in higher offices, such as those of the civil and criminal judges, the salaries must be augmented more than tenfold. For, greatly to the credit of their patriot- ism and moral character, the Maltese gentry sought these places as honorable distinctions, which endeared them to their fellow countrymen, and at the same time rendered the yoke of the order somewhat less grievous and galling. With the exception of the- Maltese secretary, whose situation was one of incessant labor, and who, at the same time, performed the duties of law counsellor to the m government, the highest salaries scarcely exceeded £ioo a year and were barely sufficient to defray the increased expenses of the functionaries for an additional equipage, or one of more imposing appearance. Besides, it was of importance that the person placed at the head of that government should be looked up to by the natives, and possess the means of distinguishing and rewarding those who had been most faithful and zealous in their attach- ment to Great Britain, and hostile to their former tyrants. The number of the employments to be conferred would ico give considerable influence to his Majesty's civil repre- sentative, while the trifling amount of the emolument attached to each precluded all temptation of abusing it. 4. Sir Alexander Ball would likewise, it is probable, urge, that the commercial advantages of Malta, which were most intelligible to the English public, and best fiited to render our retention of the island popular, must necessarily be of very slow growth, though finally they would become great, and of an extent not to be calculated. For this reason, therefore, it was highly desirable that m the possession should be, and appear to be, at least inexpensive. After the British government had made one advance for a stock of corn sufficient to place the ESSAY VI. 39 ice ; i« and nore riot- hese hem ered ling. hose : the ) the ir4 ^lOO :ased page, was that . and hose ach- ants. ould io« epre- nient git. able, hich best must they ated. that 170 least nade : the island a year beforehand, the sum total drawn from Great Britain need not exceed 25,000/., or at most 30,000/. annually ; excluding of course the expenditure connected with our own military and navy, and the repair of the fortifications, which latter expense ought to be much less than at Gibraltar, from the multitude and low wages of the labourers in Malta, and from the soft- m ness and admirable quality of the stone. Indeed much more might safely be promised on the assumption that a wise and generous system of policy were adopted and persevered in. The monopoly of the Maltese corn-trade by the government formed an exception to a general rule, and by a strange, yet valid, anomaly in the opera- tions of political economy, was not more necessary than advantageous to the inhabitants. The chief reason is, that the produce of the island itself barely suffices for one-fourth of its inhabitants, although fruits and vege- m tables form so large a part of their nourishment. Meantime the harbors of Malta, and its equi-distance from Europe, Asia, and Africa, gave it a vast and unnatural importance in the present relations of the great European powers, and imposed on its government, whether native or dependent the necessity of considering the whole island as a single garrison, the provisioning of which could not be trusted to the casualties of ordinary commerce. What is actually necessary is seldom injurious. Thus in Malta bread is better and cheaper aoo on an average than in Italy or the coast of Barbary ; while a similar interference with the corn-trade in Sicily impoverishes the inhabitants, and, keeps the agriculture in a state of barbarism. But the point in question is the expense to Great Britain. Whether the monopoly be good or evil in itself, it remains true, that in this established usage, and in the gradual enclosure of the 40 THE FRIEND. uncultivated district, such resources exist as without the least oppression might render the civil government in Valetta independent of the Treasury at home, finally aw taking upon itself even the repair of the fortifications, and thus realize one instance of an important possession that cost the country nothing. 5. But now the time arrived which threatened to frustrate the patriotism of the Maltese themselves, and all the zealous efforts of their disinterested friend. Soon after the war had for the first time become indisputably just and necessary, the people at large and a majority of independent senators, incapable, as it might seem, of translating their fanatical anti-Jacobinism into a well- 2% grounded, yet equally impassioned, anti-Gallicanism, grew impatient for peace, or rather for a name, under which the most terrific of all wars would be incessantly waged against us. Our conduct was not much wiser than that of the weary traveller, who having proceeded half way on his journey, procured a short rest for himself by getting up behind a chaise which was going the con- trary road. In the strange treaty of Amiens, in which we neither recognized our former relations with France nor with the other European powers, nor formed anyaso new ones, the compromise concerning Malta formed the prominent feature ; and its nominal re- delivery to the Order of St. John was authorized, in the minds of the people, by Lord Nelson's opinion of its worthlessness to Great Britain in a political or naval view. It is a melancholy fact, and one that must often sadden a reflective and philanthropic mind, how little moral con- siderations weigh even with the noblest nations, how vain are the strongest appeals to justice, humanity, and national honor, unless when the public mind is under mo the immediate influence of the cheerful or vehement t . ' II BSSAY VI. 41 to ind 3on bly y of , of reW- 22U ism, ider ntly riser ;ded iself con- ich nee any «5o the the the s to is a n a con- how and nderMo ent passions, indignation, or avaricious hope. In the whole class of human infirmities there is none that makes such loud appeals to prudence, and yet so frequently outrages its plainest dictates, as the spirit of fear. The worst cause conducted in hope is an overmatch for the noblest managed by despondency ; in both cases an unnatural conjunction that recals the old fable of Love and Death, taking each the arrows of the other by mistake. When islands that had courted British protection in reliance ^ upon British honor, are wifh their inhabitants and proprietors abandoned to the resentment which we had tempted them to provoke, what wonder if the opinion becomes general, that alike to England as to France, the fates and fortunes of other nations are but the counters with which the bloody game of war is played , and that notwithstanding the great and acknowledged difference between the two governments during possession, yet the protection of France is more desirable because it is more likely to endure ? for what the French take, they keep, sea Often both in Sicily and Malta have I heard the case of Minorca referred to, where a considerable portion of the most respectable gentry and merchants (no provision having been made for their protection on the re-delivery of that island to Spain) expiated in dungeons the warmth and forwardness of their predilection for Great Britain. 6: It has been by some persons imagined that Lord Nelson was considerably influenced in his public declara- tion concerning the value of Malta, by ministerial flattery, ?• and his own sense of the great serviceableness of that opinion to the persons in office. This supposition is, however, wholly false and groundless. His lordship's opinion was indeed greatly shaken afterwards, if not changed ; but at that time he spoke in strictest corre- 42 THE FRIEND. Ilfif m spondence with his existing convictions. He said no more than he had often previously declaimed to his private friends ; it was the point on which^ after some amicable controversy, his lordship and Sir Alexander Ball had "agreed to differ." Though the opinion itself w may have lost the greatest part of its interest, and except for the historian is, as it were, superannuated ; yet the grounds and causes of it, as far as they arose out of Lord Nelson's particular character, and may perhaps tend to re-enliven our recollection of a hero so deeply and justly beloved, will for ever possess an interest of their own. In an essay, too, which purports to be no more than a series of sketches and fragments, the reader, it is hoped, will readily excuse an occasional digression, and a more desultory style of narration than could be tolerated in a 29c work of regular biography. 7. Lord Nelson was an admiral every inch of hini. He looked at everything, not merely in its possible relations to the naval service in general, but in its immediate bearings on his own squadron ; to his officers, his men, to the particular ships themselves, his affections were as strong and ardent as those of a lover. Hence, though his temper was constitutionally irritable and uneven, yet never was a commander so enthusiastically loved by men of all ranks, from the captain of the fleet aoa to the youngest ship-boy Hence, too, the unexampled harmony which reigned in his fleet, year after year, under circumstances that might well have undermined the patience of the best-balanced dispositions, much more of men with the impetuous character of British sailors. Year after year, the same dull duties of a wearisome blockade, of doubtful policy — little, if any, opportunity of making prizes ; and the ifew prizes, which accident might throw in the way, o* little or no value ; ESSAY VI. 43 and when at last the occasion presented itself which sio would have compensated for all, then a disappointment as sudden and unexpected as it was unjust and cruel, and the cup dashed from their lips 1 Add to these trials the sense of enterprises checked by feebleness and timidity elsewhere, not omitting the tiresomeness of the Mediterranean sea, sky, and climate ; and the unjarring and cheerful spirit of affectionate brotherhood, which linked together the hearts of that whole squadron, will appear not less wonderful to us than admirable and affecting. When the resolution was taken of commenc- aw ing hostilities against Spain, before any intelligence was sent to Lord Nelson, another admiral, with two or three ships of the line, was sent into the Mediterranean, and stationed before Cadiz, for the express purpose of inter- cepting the Spanish prizes. The admiral despatched on this lucrative service gave no information to Lord Nelson of his arrival in the same sea, and five weeks elapsed before his lordship became acquainted with the sircumstance. The prizes thus taken were immense. A. month or two sufficed to enrich the compnander andsM >)fficers of this small and highly-favored squadron ; while io Nelson and his fleet the sense of haying done their duty, and the consciousness of the glorious services which they had performed, were considered, it must be presumed, as an abundant remuneration for all their toils and long suffering ! It was indeed an unexampled circumstance, that a small squadron should be sent to the station which had been long occupied by a large fleet, commanded by the darling of the navy, and the glory of the British Empire, to the station where this 340 fleet had for years been wearing away in the most barren, repulsive and spirit-trying service, in which the navy can be t>mployed ! and that this minor squadron should be iiiil I i ! 44 THE FRIEND. sent independently of, and without any communication with the commander of the former fleet, for the express and solitary purpose of stepping between it and the Spanish prizes, and as soon as this short and pleasant service was performed, of bringing home the unshared booty with all possible caution and despatch. The substantial advantages of naval service wpre perhaps :wi deemed of too gross a nature for men already rewarded with the grateful affections of their own countrymen, and the admiration of the whole world ! They were to be awarded, therefore, on a principle of compensation to a commander less rich in fame, and whose laurels, though not scanty, were not yet sufficiently luxuriant to hide the golden crown which is the appropriate ornament of victory in the bloodless war of commercial capture ! Of all the wounds which were ever inflicted on Nelson's feelings (and there were not a few), this was the deepest »w — this rankled most ! " I had thought " (said the gallant man, in a letter written oh the first feelings of the affront), " I fancied— but nay, it must have been a dream, ■ an idle dream— yet, I confess it, I did fancy, that I had done my' country service — and thus they use me. It ' was not enough to have robbed me once beforie of my West Indian harvest — now they have taken away the Spanish — and under what circumstances; and with what pointed aggravations ! Yet, if I know my own thoughts, it is not for myself, or on my own account chiefly, that I sto feel the sting and the disappointment ; no I it is for my brave officers ; for my noble-minded friends and comrades — such a gallant set of fellows I such a band of brothers ! My heart swells at the thought of them ! "- 8. This strong attachment of the heroic admiral to his fleet, faithfully repaid by an equal attachment on their ' part to their admiral, had no little influence in attuning ' ESSAY VI. 45 on JSS he int ■ed ' *he ipS !«V' led en, i to ito ugh the : of Of on's pest >w lant the !am, ft lad If my the vhat hts, lat 1 8*0 my ades ' lers! his their ; riing ' their hearts to each other ; and when he died, it seemed as if no man was a stranger to another ; for all were made acquaintances by the rights of a common anguish, m In the fleet itself, many a private quarrel was forgotten, no more to be remembered ; many, who had been alien- ated, became once more good friends ; yea, many a one was reconciled to his very enemy, and loved and (as it were) thanked him for the bitterness of his, grief, as if it had been an act of consolation to himself in an inter- course of private sympathy. The tidings arrived at Naples on the day that I returned to that city from Calabria ; and never can I forget the sorrow and con- sternation that lay on every countenance. Even to this aw day there are times when 1 seem to see, as in a vision, separate groups and individual faces of the picture. Numbers stopped and shook hands with me because they had seen the tears on my cheek, and conjectured that I was an Englishman ; and several, as they held my hand, burst, themselves, into tears. And though it may awake a smile, yet it pleased and affected me, as a proof of the goodness of the human heart struggling to exercise its kindness in spite of prejudices the most obstinate, and eager to carry on its love and honor into mo the life beyond life, that it was whispered about Naples, that Lord Nelson had become a good Catholic before his death. The absurdity of the fiction is a sort of measurement of the fond and affectionate esteem which had ripened the pious wish of some kind individual, through all the gradations of possibility and probability, into a conftdent assertion, believed and affirmed by hundreds. The feelings of Great Britain on this awful event have been described well and worthily by a living poett who has happily blended the passion and wild «itt transitions of lyric song with the swell and solemnity of epic narration. jt!!, llffiN 46 THE FRIEND. ^-Thou art fall'n ! fall'n, in the lap Of victory. To thy country thou cam 'st back. Thou conqueror, to triumphal Albion cam'st A corsb ! 1 saw before thy hearse pass oa The comrades of thy perils and renown. The frequent tear upon their dauntless breasts Fell. I beheld the pomp thick gathered round The trophied car that bore thy graced remains Through armed ranks, and a nation gazing on. Bright glowed the sun, and not a cloud distained Heaven's arch of gold, but all was gloom beneath. A holy and unutterable pang Thrilled on the soul. Awe and mute anguish fell On all. — Yet high the public bosom throobed With triumph. And if one; 'mid that vast pomp, If but the voice of one had shouted forth The name of Nelson, thou hadst past along. Thou in thy hearse to burial past, as oft Before the van of battle, proudly rode Thy prow, down Britain's line, shout after shout Rending the air with triumph, ere thy hand ' Had lanced the bolt of victory. Sothbby {Saul, p 80): 9. I introduced this digression with an apology, yet have extended it so much further than I had designed, that I must once more request my reader to excuse me. It was to be expected (I have said) that Lord Nelson would appreciate the isle of Malta from its relations to the British fleet on the Mediterranean station. It was m the fashion of the day to style Egypt the key of India, and Malta the key of Egypt. Nelson saw the hollowness of this metaphor ; or if he only doubted its applicability in the former instance, he was sure that it was false in the latter. Egypt might or might not be the key of India, but Malta was certainly not the key of Egypt. It was not intended to keep constantly two distinct fleets in that sea ; and the largest naval force at Malta would not supersede the necessity of a squadron off Toulon. Malta does not lie in the direct course from Toiilon to Alexan- 450 dria ; and from the nature of the winds (taking one time with another) the comparative length of the voyage to ESSAY VI. t!.e latter port will be found far less than a view of the map would suggest, and in truth of little practical im- portance. If it were the object of the French fleet to avoid Malta in its passage to Egypt, the port-admiral at Valetta would in all probability receive his first intelli- gence of its course from Minorca or the squadron off Toulon, instead of communicating it. In what regards the refitting and provisioning of the fleet, either on ordi- «•• nary or extraordinary occasions, Malta was as incon- venient as Minorca was advantageous, not only from its distance (which yet was sufficient to render it almost useless in cases of the most pressing necessity as after a severe action or injuries of tempest) but likewise from the extreme difficulty, if not impracticability, of leaving the harbour of Valetta with a N.W wind, which often lasts for weeks together. In all these points his lordship's observations were perfectly just ; and it must be conceded by all persons acquainted with the situation and circum- 470 stances of Malta, that its importance, as a British possession, if not exaggerated on the whole, was unduly magnified in several important particulars. Thus Lord Minto, in a speech delivered at a county meeting, and afterwards published, affirms, that supposing (what no one could consider as unlikely to take place) that the court of Naples should be compelled to act under the influence of France, and that the Barbary powers were unfriendly to us, either in consequence of French intri- gues or from their own caprice and insolence, there 4» would not be a single port, harboi*, bay, creek, or road- stead in the whole Mediterranean, Irom which our loen-of- war could pbtain a single ox or a hogshead of fresh water, unless Great Britain retained possession of Malta. The noble speaker seems not to have been aware, that under the circumstances supposed by him, Odessa too being •I !l m (8 THE FRIEND. closed against us by a Russian war, the island of Malta itself would be no better thah s^ vast almshouse of 75,000 persons, exclusive of the British soldiery, all of whom must be regularly supplied with corn and salt meat from m Great Britain or Ireland. The population of Malta and Gozo exceeds 100,000, while the food of all kinds pro- duced on the two islands would barely suffice for one- fourth of that number. The deficit is procured by the growth and spinning of cotton, for which corn could not be substituted from the nature of the soil, or, were if attempted, would produce but a small proportion of i. e quantity which the cotton raised on the same fields and spun"^ into thread, enables the Maltese to purchase, not to mention that the substitution of grain for cotton would >** leave half of the inhabitants without employment. As to live stock, it is quite out of the question, if we except the pigs and goats, which perform the office of scaven- gers in the streets of Valetta and the towns on the other side of the Porto Grande. 10. Against these arguments Sir A. Ball placed the following considerations. It Had been long his convic- tion that the Mediterranean squadron should be supplied by regular store-ships, the sole business of which should be that of carriers for the fleet. This he recommended en as by far the most economic plan, in the first instance. * The Maltese cotton is naturally of a deep buff, or dusky orange color, and, by the laws of the islan and the remainder have perjiaps changed , 50 THE FRIEND, I '• » I ! Iiiiii^ the destiny of Europe. What might not, almost I would say, what must not eight thousand Britons have accom- plished at the battle of Marengo, nicely poised as the fortunes of the two armies are now known to hive been ? Minorca too is alone useful or desirable during a war, m and on the supposition of a fleet off Toulon. The advantages of Malta are permanent and national. As a second Gibraltar, it must tend to secure Gibraltar itself ; for if by the loss of that one place we could be excluded from the Mediterranean, it is difficult to say what sacrifices of blood and treasure the enemy would deem too high a price for its conquest. Whatever Malta mayor may not be respecting Egypt, its high importance to the independence of Sicily cannot be doubted, or its advantages, as a central station, for any portion of our sw disposable fdrce. Neither is the influence which it will enable us to exert on the Barbary powers to be wholly neglected. I shall only add, that during the plague at Gibraltar, Lord Nelson himself acknowledged that he began to see the possession of Malta in a different light. II. Sir Alexander Ball looked forward to future contin- gencies as likely to increase the value of Malta to Great Britain. He foresaw that the whole of Italy would become a French province, and he knew that the French government had been long intriguing on the coast ofm Barbary. The Dey of Algiers was believed to have accumulated a treasure of fifteen millions sterling, and Buonaparte had actually duped him into a treaty, by which the French were to be permitted to erect a fort on the very spot where the ancient Hippo stood, the choice between which and the Hellespont, as the site of New Rome, is said to have perplexed the judgment of Constantine. To this he added an additional point of ' connection with Russia, by means of Odessa, and on the ESSAY VI. 51 3uld om- the en ? war, 660 The As dtar dbe say ould [alta ance )r its ; our 680 :will holly je at t he ight. ntih- reat ould ench t of 670 have and h by fort the teof It of nt of 1 the supposition of a war in the Baltic, a still more interesting sm relation to Turkey, and the Morea, and tiie Grceek islands. It had been repeatedly signified to the British government, that from the Morea and the countries adjacent, a considerable supply of ship timber and naval stores might be obtained, such as would at least greatly lessen the pressure of a Russian war. The agents of France were in full activity in the Morea and the Greek islands, the possession of which, by that government, would augment the naval resources of the French to a degree of which few are aware who have not made the m |)resent state of commerce of the Greeks an object of particular attention. In short, if the possession of Malta Were advantageous to England solely as a convenient watch-tower, as a centre of intelligence, its importance would be undeniable. 12. Although these suggestions did not prevent the signing away of Malta at the peace of Amiens, they doubtless were not without effect, when the ambition of Buonaparte had given a full and final answer to the grand question — can we remain at peace with France ? I have m likewise reason to believe that Sir Alexander Ball baffled, by exposing, an insidious proposal of the French govern- ment, during the negotiations that preceded the recom- mencement of the war — that the fortifications of Malta should be entirely dismantled, and the island left to its inhabitants. Without dwelling on the obvious inhuman- ity and flagitious injustice of exposing the Maltese to certain pillage and slavery from their old and invete- rate enemies, the Moors, he showed that the plan would promote the interests of Buonaparte even more than his eiu actual possession of the island, which France had no possible interest in desiring, except as the means of keep- ing it out of the hands of Great Britain. \lM ■ i i, i 52 THE FRIEND. 13. But Sir Alexander Ball is no more. The writer still clings to the hope that he may yet be able to record his good deeds more fully and regularly ; that then, with a sense of comfort, not without a subdued exulta- tion, he may riiise heavenward from his honored tomb the glistening eye of an humble, but ever giateful Friend. THE END. i^.- ^..li. : ■ \'»t. iter Old en, Ita- mb nd. hi NOTES. THE FRIEND. Ciaudian. — A Latin epic poet, born at Alexandria about 365 a.d. The quotation is from his De Laudibus Stilichonis, a eulogy on his patron Stilicho, the famous Vandalic general of the Emperors Theo- dosius and Honorius. I. James Harrington (161 1-77) .—Studied at Oxford, and travelled over Europe extefisively. In the Civil War he took sides with the Parliament. After the execution of Charles, he retired from public employment, and engaged in writing his famous political romance Oceana, on the plan of Plato's Atlantis. It was dedicated to Cromwell, who was, however, ill-pleased with it, because its Republicanism was too strong, and it contained allusions to usurpations. Hume and Dugald Stewart praise it, but Hallam finds it prolix, dull, and pedantic. 2 in the making of a, etc.— Would "in making a, etc.," convey just the same meaning ? 4. be -Is it correctly used ? 6. only.— Is it required ? If so, is it correctly placed ? genius. — Not used in the ordinary sense; the natural bent or disposition of mind qualifying for a particular employment. 7. universal series of history.— Paraphrase. 9. Discuss the substitution of "those who " for "such as," and "obtained " for "got." II. descents.— Better singular. Distinguish between "a gentleman by birth," and " a gentleman of birth.' 12. ayounger brother of.— What probable bearing hais younger on what follows ? What is the force of the 0/ here ? 14. Justify the position of the phrase, " from his own choice." as he himself, etc — What kind of clause ? See Seath, xiv., 44 c. 16. perusal.— Would " reading " be equally expressive ? 18. subaltern.— Any military officer under the rank of captain. [53j a 54 NOTES. 1 i w ■ 2o. distinctness. —Is it proper to say "distinctly recollfct a date"? The sentence is rather awkwardly constructed. *' With such distinct- ness" modifies the verb to be supplied after but. The parenthesis would be better at the end of the sentence. What rules should be observed as to the introduction of parentheses ? 23. London would be better than "metropolis." 23-25. but incidents . . life. —Condense to phrases by omitting the verbs. 26-29, Discuss the substitution of " others," "some," "some," for " those which are," " some," " others." 28. Motives which, etc.^^The reference is doubtless to the following passage in the previous Essay. " He was a man above his age ; but for that very reason the age has the more need to have the inaster-features of his character portrayed and preserved. This I feel it my duty to attempt, and this alone ; for having received neither instructions nor f)eirmission from the family of the deceased, I cannot think myself allowed to enter into the particulars of his private history, strikingly as many of them would illustrate the elements and composition of his mind." .... 1 30. these. — The higher considerations. It is difficult to ' deduce ' any consideration which, seems sufficient to preclude him from men- tioning the other incidents alluded to. Are we to infer that the narra- tioh of them would have a tendency to injure Sir Alexander Ball's reputation with the upper classes by showing that he held, and acted in accordance with, opinions very much at variance with those com- monly held by them ? 35. was.— Is the tense correct ? Why p - 36 even for the sake of our navyl— Seems put in as if the navy were not a necessary factor in the security of the empire. Add ••alone." 37-39. Discuss the substitution of "feared," "general," "infre- quency," for "apprehended," "universal," " unusualness." 40-50. one. — Say •• as a means." Dr. Andrew Bell (1753-1832).— A Scotchman of St, Andrews, author of the " Madras System of Education," which was the monitorial system adopted and adapted by Lancaster (Joseph) to the celebrated Lancastrian system. He was deficient in assistants or ushers at Madras in his school for the education of children of English residents; and he invented the above system to overcome the difficulty. THE FRIEND. 55 The reasoning is as follows: The education of the few makes them vain and restless demn . 6S-69. The sentence would sound better if the first which were omitted, or changed to that. What difference would it make to omit the comma after money ? Methodism. — See Notes and Preface to The Task. 70. swear an oath. — An unusual expression now. firmness. — Vory expressive, as indicating the failings of sailors as to the observance of the Sabbath. • . . ^ 56 NOTES. Mil 77. zealotry. — As Sir Alexander belonged to the class that appre- hended danger from educating the lower classes, bigotry would seem a better word,- zealotry being applicable to rash reformers 78. " Seeking after truth " is much better than " seeking truth." 79. unsuspicious. — Now always in an active sense as an epithet oi persons. Here, passively, not to be suspected of being written to serve any purpose but truth. 80. Dumpier (William). — Born in 1652, was an English buccaneer against the Spanish, and a celebrated navigator, especially in the West Indies, South America, Australia, and New Guinea. In 1691 he published his celebrated Voyages Around the World, which was much read and shortly after he was senf by the Government to explore in the South Seas. 86. bred up in. — " To hard labor," is the usual expression. 87. when . . plenty. — This clause is awkwardly inserted. Arrange, " such as had been bred and had afterward come, would, etc." 89. making a bluster.— Better " blustering." 90-92. how strangely. — Of the strange manner in which. The clause is substantive, in the adv. obj. after " proof." can be. — Can exist. See H. S. Grammar, ix., 14. themselves. — Would sound better after •* have." 93-95- tempts. — Calls forth, arouses in us. something. — Is this a pred. nom. or an adv. obj., modifying "less"? 97. their.— To what does it refer ? 98-101. for a sober, etc.— Define Coleridge's •• sober education." Discuss the truth of his premise, and the logical accuracy of his reasoning. 101-108. The sentence is not very happily constructed. The "subject" is "national education," therefore the sentence might be improved by inserting "of a national education" after "subject," and writing " feel in bringing it about." denominations. -Does he mean religions? If not, what? in which. — Show that the " which " is co-ordinating, and that the clause is logically adv. being. — Expand into a clause. on.— Engaged on. THE FRIEND. 67 is that appre- would seem a ng truth." ', an epithet oi ritten to serve ish buccaneer ly in the West In 1691 he ich was much to explore in ssion. y rdly inserted, le, would, etc." 1 which. The 14. )bj., modifying ir education." kcur£icy of his Iructed. The :nce might be subject," and If not, what ? rdinating. and ioi~io8. almost. — For parsing, see H. S. Grammar, ix., 10. Coleridge's meaning is not very plain. His excuses for so much minuteness are : first, the importance of the subject ; second, that he otherwise leaves this part of the life almost a blank. 112. length of time. — " Time " is sufficient. 113. to the acquirement. — The phrase sounds somewhat strange. " For the acquisition," or " to acquire," would be more in accordanct; with present usage. "Acquirement" is now chiefly used in the plural, in the sense of personal attainments. X15. afterwards. — Would " his whole after life " be better ? as. — Omit. Coleridge's pleonastic use of it after "consider" amounts almost to a mannerism. See below, 1. 128. 117-22. Change the sentence so as to bring the objects of "pre- ferred " directly after it. such as contain.— Condense to a phrase. 124. precluded. — Notice Coleridge's frequent use of this word. works of pure speculation. — What are meant ? in his view.— Omit "his." 127-29. no less. — Better "not." Supply the ellipsis after "than." who after Awards, etc. — Of these two clauses the second seems to mean very little more than the first; say instead, " mode of practically applying their principles," or "reducing their principles to practice." 130-34. Why put in "even," as if works of amusement had some other object than to amuse ? have ever heard . . was.— Is this a proper sequence of tenses ? to his lady.— Would not "to Lady Ball" have been better? 134-35- to my surprise . . interest — What other ways of arranging the adjuncts in this clause ? Note the effect of each. 138. psychological. — Psychology is the science that treats of the phenomena of the mind, or the conscious subject. 140-41. accidents. — Accidental circumstances. Give the relation. For " his nobler being," we may also say " the nobler being within htm." 58 NOTES. I 142-43. Should not "own" be "on," with a comma before it? which. — Criticize the position How mij?ht the relati\ ' btJ omitted ? 145. learnt. — Is now a little old-fashioned, but is more easily enunciated than "learned " 146-47. " Confined almost entirely (or exclusively) " would be better. 148-50— but that— Omit "that." Would it not be better to sub stitute a comma for the colon, and siy "and the press, etc."? An objection might be made, that the newspaper press would thus ha especially indicated, contrary to Coleridge's intention. Or substitute a dash for the colon. The comma after knowledge should be omitted. Why? 152. Would not " convey to one another their mdividual expe- rience " be better ? 154. at present. —Seems to be unnecessary ; in fact, it seems to cast an especial slur on the book learning of that day. " As at present " after "contempt" might do; but in either cise it seems awkward to use the phrase in company with the past tense. As 11. 154 et seq. are general truths, why not put them in the present tense ? " It is there- fore, etc. ; the use and necessity consist, etc." i6i. probability. — The change from the adj. to the noun is neither elegant nor necessary. Say " and the probable from the merely plausible." 162. actual experience. — Must not experience of necessity be actual? Is, then, the use of "actual" advisable? Give examples of similar pleonastic expressions. 164. in exclusion. — Or " to the exclusion." 174. As "gallantry" is afterwards used, "gallant" might be omitted, or some other epithet substituted for it." 184. We can insert an incident, but not an occasion. Why not omit "with . . me," or say, " with the circumstances under which," etc. ? 185. in a party. — What is the usual preposition ? Grand Master— The Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, other- wise called Knights of Rhodes, and afterwards Knights of Malta, were the most celebrated of all the military and religious orders of mediaeval times. It originated in 1048 in a hospice granted by the Calif of Egypt THE FRIEND. ftO t? rclativ ; easily )uld be to sub- ."? An thus ba ibstitute omitted. al expe- ls to cast present " tward to t seq. are I is there- neither merely ssity be examples night be iVhy not s under in, other- Ita, were nediaeval of Egypt to pilgrims visiting the Holy Sepulchre. The nurses were known as Hospitallers. The Order was sanctioned by the Church in 1113, and to the original vows of poverty and chastity were added fighting the infidel, and defending the Holy Sepulchre. On Saladin's conquest of Jerusalem in 1 187, they retired to Margat, and about a century later to Acre. Their commanderies or sub-establishments were scattered over Europe, and were divided into eight languages. A certain number of commanderies formed a Priory, and the head of the chief establishment in Eng|land once sat in the House of Lords. In 13 10 they captured Rhodes and some adjacent islands, successfully waginf< a predatory war with the Saracens, but in 1523 the Sultan Solymnn compelled them to surrender. After a short residence in Candia and Viterbo, they took up their residence in Malta, granted to them, along with Tripoli and Gozo, by Charles V. They continued to be, as they had been for two centuries, a powerful defence against the Turks. After the Reformation the Order declined both in morals and in political importance, and in 1798 the island was treacherously sr -ren- dered to the French. About the same time its lands, etc., throughout Europe were nearly all confiscated to the State. The badge worn by the Knights is a Maltese cross, enamelled white and edged with gold. In the previous essay Coleridge, in speaking of the character of the Knights and the condition of the Maltese under their rule, says: "But when it is considered, too, that the Knights of Malta had been for the last fifty years or more a set of useless idlers, generally illiterate, for they thought literature no part of a soldier's excellence, and yet effeminate, for they were soldiers in name only ; when it is considered that they were, moreover, all of them aliens, who looked upon them- selves not merely as of a superior rank to the native nobles, but as beings of a different race from the Maltese collectively ; and, finally, that these men possessed exclusively the government of the island : it may be safely concluded that they were little better than a perpetual influenza, relaxing and diseasing the hearts of all the families within the sphere of their mfluence." 188-93. with . . pleasure. — Would it be better to place this phrase just after " listening " ? Why ? ^ independent. — Is the adjective correctly used here ? had been. — Is the tense correct ? mixed expression of, etc.— Discuss as substitutes, " mingled look of," and " look of mingled awe and affection." mommmm m im GO NOTES. 188-93. more than common. — May be treated as a sort of compound adjective. H. S. Grammar, viii., 173 c. 194. not infrequently. — What better position for the phrase? Would frequently convey precisely the same meaning ? on the one hand. — See foot-note. Where should this phrase be placed, and why ? 199. that which, etc. — What does he refer to ? 201. I dare say. — No need of the parenthesis. 204. midshipman. — A kind of naval cadet in a ship of war, whose business it is to second and transmit the orders of the superior officers, and assist in the management of the ship. Nelson entered the navy as midshipman at the age of twelve. .06. amid.— Or during. musketry. — What is the force of the affix ? I was . . away.— If the intention is to represent the coming on of fear as somewhat gradual, "became" would be better than "was"; if not, then insert "suddenly" after "was." 209-10. Discuss the substitution of "state," "placing," and "face," for "condition," "placed," "countenance." 214. minute or so. — This is far less common than "hour or so," "day or so." Parse so. See H. S. Grammar, vii., 34. Is Coleridge consistent here in his use of quotation marks ? 219. fearless and forward. — In this alliterative phrase, note that "forward" is well placed after "fearless," for two reasons: first, l)eca ise the movement is from the close sound (e) to the open sound (8); and secondly, because being forward is the natural result of being tearless. 221-24. The "that" clause comes in a little awkwardly; insert "of this" after "than." Which is better " should " or " would " ? Why ? what I tremble to think of.— More expressive and better suited to the balance of the clause than "coward." instead of. — Should be followed ■ by the gerund, thus: " instead of humanely encouraging." scoffed. — Not commonly used as a trans, verb. 225-28. the more kind —Say "the kinder." THE FRIEND. 61 I pound hrase ? phrase , whose officers, le navy lent the \e better l"face." or so," loleridge lote that is: first, >und (6); |of being ; insert id better Id, thus: 225-28. to all appearance.— Seems an unnecessary umplitication, as "evinces" means "to make evident." and that he said this therefore —Note the loose structure, and also the inharmonious and difficult succession of dentals (t, d, th) say "and therefore he must have said this." 232. who. — What is the antecedent ? What objection would there be to placing the relative clause next the antecedent ? 236. the —"Its" would be better. Substitute words of equivalent meaning for "calumnies,* "paramount," "constant," "immutable," "execution," 242. as. — For its use see H. S. Gr., xvii., 11. 245. Can " therefore" be better placed ? 246-47. Better "as belonging to this place and forming a part." The following is the most important part of the "passage " referred to. After speaking of the hardened and almost mutinous character of the crew of the man-of-war, of which Captain Ball assumed command, he continues : "The new commander instantly commenced a system of discipline as near as possible to that of ordinary law — as much as possible he avoided, in his own person, the appearance of any will or arbitrary power to vary, or to remit punishment. The rules to be observed were affixed to a conspicuous part of the ship, with the particular penalties for the breach of each particular rule ; and care was taken that every individual of the ship should know and under- stand this code. With a single exception in the case of mutinous behavior, a space of twenty-four hours was appointed between the first charge and the second hearing of the cause, at which time the accused person was permitted and required to bring forward whatever he thought conducive to his defence or palliation. If, as was commonly the case, no answer could be returned to the three questions — Did you not commit the act ? Did you not know that it was in contempt of such a rule, and in defiance of such a punishment ? And was it not wholly in your own power to have obeyed the one and avoided the other ? — the sentence was then passed with the greatest solemnity, and another, but shorter, space of time was again interposed between it and its actual execution." Farther on he says: "I have been assured that the success of this plan was such as astonished the oldest officers, and convinced the most incredulous." 63 NOTES. I It !! Hi i ! ■ 249. As "impelled '* involves the notion of "driving? forward," and " withhold " of " keeping back," perhaps "induce" would be a better word. 25I-59- The sentence would be improved by omitting "and," and rearranging thus : " those facts alone which have left an impression on our hearts present themselves to our memory, and we assent," etc. The quotation is from the Excursion, Book i., 524-:^6. Expand the metaphor in the last line. 26069. Leaving out " in pursuance . . execution," the sentence stands: "Thus the humane plan, described in the pages referred to, that a system (as described) could not but furnish food for detraction, must be evident to every mind." The construction is very loose, and the meaning not clear. Rearrange : " It must be evident to every reflecting mind that the humane plan (or system) described in the pages referred to could not but furnish occasional food to the spirit of detraction ; a plan (or system) in pursuance," etc. Say, "As the pre-established determination of known law, and him- self as its voice in pronouncing sentence, and its delegate in enforcing execution." 272. and who. — Omit " and." 275. by the light. — What other preposition might be used ? Is the semicolon correct after "evil"? 276. by weak minds.— Better after " charged." ^?X>. of. — What is the relation ? 264-86. Matt, xi , 19; Luke vii., 35. The last four sentences very effectively lead up to the close, and are well constructed. GENERAL REMARKS. The formal rules for the paragraph (see Introduction) can scarcely be applied to Coleridge's essays in The Friend. It seems as if he wrote without the least idea of such laws for the orderly development of his narrative. His paragraphs are of very varying length, and often lacking in connection ; and even in the same paragraph there is some- times an abrupt change of subject. They are, however, not devoid of a certain ease and naturalness born of their digressive and loose structure. ik THE FRIEND. 63 PARAGRAPH I. The first three sentences contain no mention of the subject of the sketch, but they may be said to lead to it. From the rather weighty introduction .is to " gentlemen, ' we should expect that Ball's position as one of that class, his antecedents, and his family connections would be more dwelt upon, but they are dismissed in one short sentence. A new paragraph might well begin with line 30, " The most important of these," etc., as Sir Alexander's views on education form a new sub- ject, connected with what precedes by " these." The main topic of the paragraph is found in 11. 34-36, viz., the importance of educating the lower classes. This is followed by several illustrative sentences. With line 38 begins the consideration of their loral education. The change seems a little abrupt, as no mention ol o division into religious and secular was made when the topic w.i 'oposed. The sentences down to " making a bluster," line 89, chiefly of similar con- struction, amplify and illustrate the same idea of moral education. In the next sentence, " on this subject " refers back and keeps up the connection of thought. So, " it tempts a suspicion," has a connec- tion in sense with "can be a doubt," and " inspires self-respect," with " have no claim." The words, " must of necessity be a brave man," very properly carry back the mind to the words of the introduction (I. 36), " for the sake of our navy." The concluding sentence brings us back from Sir Alexander's opinions to Sir Alexander himself, and suggests the resumption of the narrative. The student will find it a valuable exercise to note the parallel con- structions that refer to particular topics, and point out (or insert if necessary) words of explicit reference. It must be remembered that the free and non-formal introduction to this essay by a quotation is partly due to the fact that Sir Alexander has already been spoken of in previous essays (Essay II.). Paragraph ii. One subject is Sir Alexander's love of books, mentioned in the second sentence, to which the first is iiuroductory. Three sentences deal with the various kinds of books he preferred, showing the practical cast of his mind. The other subject of this paragraph grows out of the first, and is the value of knowledge from books as opposed to (or compared with) 64 NOTES. it experience. As the tendency is now towards the short, rather than the long paragraph, a new one might begin with " I will add one remark." PARAGRAPH III. The incident (which is, of course, the subject) illustrates another phase of Ball's character, and makes this paragraph parallel with the second. It is well told, and with a due admixture of short and long sentences. The sentence beginning, "This anecdote," etc. U- 230), suggests and prepares for the next paragraph, which deals with his system and power of discipline. The fourth paragraph is short, and does not seem to call for any special remarks. The fifth, with the exception of the first sentence, the meaning of which is obscured by the loose form of expression, is a well-constructed, well-reasoned, and effective paragraph. ESSAY IV. -From same root as "conveying. Distinguish 2. convoying^, them in meaning. 8. recollection.— Would " memory " be better ? 12. A comma has been accidentally omitted after ' America.' 13. prospective reference —Note how completely the prefix re has lost its force. 15. general peace. — By the Treaty of Versailles, 1783. 17. and, if I mistake not.— Omit "and." Note the increasing use at the present day of the incorrect form, " if I am not mistaken." Nantes —What important historical event connected with it ? 20. punctilio. — A nice point in behavior or ceremony. From the Sp., punctilio, a little point. 25. close off.— An unusual combination ; justify it. 29. however. — In the meaning of •' nevertheless." 34. and that. — Note the inharmonious coupling. Supply a verb after " that," or expand the preceding phrase into a clause. was- — Should this be " were " ? 38. As "impetuous" has very often the meaning of "hasty" in reference to temper, perhaps " violent "would be better. THE FRIEND. 65 re has a verb ity" in 39- himself. — In what other position nii)(iu it be placed ? 43. safe. — Would "safely " do equally well ? 50. As "begin" is used of both persons and things, and *' com- mence" most frequently of persons, perhaps "began" would be a little better than "commenced." Note and justify the inverted order of the sentence. 53. We "defer" till the completion of some act or period; we " postpone " till the beginning of some act or period. Perhaps " post- pone " would be better here. 59. " On some allusion being made," or " to some allusion made," etc. 60. who shall dare.— Would " will " be better ? Why ? want. — What two meanings ? Which has it here ? 64. should have led. — Is the tense correct ? 69-70. forecast. — " Foresight " is now more common. The sentence would perhaps read better if " his " were transferred to come just before " practical," and " the " substituted for it before "characteristic. ' ' 72. shrouds. — Ranges of long ropes, partly forming a rope ladder, extending from the head of the mast on each side and fastened to the sides of the ship. 77-78. as the.— Omit " the." " Watch to sec if." 79. exclusively.— Give the relation. 81. alongside. — Parse, and show how it has come to be so used. Insert " the " before " L'Orient." 85-86. combustible.— Would "inflammable" (see 1. 75) do equally well? but which. — " But " should couple like constructions. Better omit " which," and insert " it " after " reserve " : or omit " but." 88. at the time. — Is this phrase necessary ? 90. strike. — What is meant ? 92. this. — What ? Why the inverted order ? occasioned. — " Caused " would be better. 94. succeeded to.— Omit " to." 96. incident. — This incident has been utilized by Mrs. Hemans in the hackneyed and often parodied lines beginnmg, " The boy stood on the burning deck." 99. " On the renewal," or "on renewing " is more common. 66 NOTES. m loi. second longer obstinate contest. — Obstinacy involves the idea of holding out ; consequently it would be better to say, " second and more obstinate conflict," which is, besides, a much smoother phrase. I02. the firing, etc. — It is better to avoid so many absolute coa- structions. Turn them into clauses, "The firing at length slackened and then altogether ceased, but yet no sign of surrender was given ; the senior lieutenant, therefore," etc. io6. hearts. — Metonymy for courage. 109. whether. — Can its position be changed with advantage ? 111-14. after some, etc. — The student may exercise himself to advantage in contracting Coleridge's full style. In this case, e.g., " After some thought, Sir Alexander consented, making provision, of course, for rousing them again when necessary." Parse " requisite." 116. to which.—" Where " would be better ? Why ? n8-2o. started.— The "they" should be repeated, owing to the change of voice. from. — " Out of " can be used with '• sleep," and would be better here, as tending to contrast more sharply "ambush" and "sleep." co-instantaneously. — The word seems to have been manu- factured by Coleridge. What two ideas does it include ? 124. the crew.— To make it plainer that this refers to the French crew, change " the " to " its." It has not been thought necessary to criticize the structure of the paragraphs in this and the remaining Essays, as was done in the case of Essay III. The student is recommended, however, to do this more or less fully for himself, noting the subject or subjects of each, the digressions (accounting,for them if possible), and the different ways in which the connection of thought is kept up. It will lend additional value to this work if he is required occasionally to combine the results of his examination in a written exercise. ESSAY V. 1-8. The sentence is a good example of Coleridge's wordiness, and his tendency to tack on words and phrases which do not add enough to the main thought to compensate for the increased difficulty of fol- lowing it. "On . . importance," "and constituent," "in . . word," might be omitted. Explain clearly what is meant by " acces- THE FRIEND. 67 f, and lough f fol- tcces- sibility to the sentiments of others," " accompanies feeble minds." • practical greatness," " passiveness to impression ; " also, how counsel itself may be injurious to certain characters, and why to be always craving for advice is a sign of weakness of heart. 10. influxes. — Although an unusual word, it is here well chosen ; but perhaps the singular would be better. 15-17. as it passed by him — Carrying out the idea in " influx." assimilate. — Use for his own purposes. accidents. — Accidental circumstances. 18. What is the jovial board ? Why do we write jovial, mer- curial, etc., without capitals, but not horatian, homeric, etc. ? 23-27. when the taper, etc.— Note the perfectness and the beauty of the comparison. 31. demanded. — " Demand " and " claim " are used when we ask with authority or right. " Claim " is less strong, and " command " stronger than " demand." 35-37. occasioned.— What would be a better word ? Rearrange and improve the order of the rest of the sentence. 38. negation. — Does not mean here the act of denying, but rather a negative condition or absence of sense. The wild and silly plan is more fruitful in suggestion than no plan at all. difference and contrast— One would expect words opposed in meaning here, like " resemblance and contrast." 43. Tycho Brahe. — The celebrated Danish astronomer (1546-1601). 47. had. — Should be " have." 48-51. it may . . concluded. — The active form would perhaps be neater. to those. — The connection of these words is not sufficiently evident. Rearrange so as to bring them after " access and attention." 52-54. '* Failed to consult " is better and more common. " Con- sulting" is in opposition to " access and attention," and somewhat emphasized; the insertion of "merely" before "giving" in the previous sentence would bring out this opposition clearly. acquire their opinion. —Hardly good English. Substitute a suitable verb. ■60. by authority. — By those whom he might consider superior m judgment. 68 NOTES. s|M 62. suffrage and coincidence. — "Suffrage" — assent, approval. What is the usual meaning? "Coincidence" — the accidental agree- ment of opinion. 64. abstracted. — Used here in its metaphysical sense. Considered it by itself, wholly apart from any weight its author's name might lend it. 70. The connection of " from finding " will be seen more clearly by inserting "the" before "additional," and "which might result" after mind." 85. collate. —To bring together and compare MSS. or books. and neyer expressed.— It would be better to repeat the subject "he," on account of the change in the form of the verb. 89. with. — What is the connection ? 91. coincidence — i.e.f of opinion or conclusion. 94. Mr. Fox. — The great statesman. Pitt's opponent. 96. for its own sake. — What is the relation of this phrase ? Re- arrange. 98. in the moral character. — Not required, except as an antithesis to "in the intellect." Distinguish veracity and truth. 99. valuing, etc. — Expand into a clause. 104-5. arming himself by. — Is " by " the proper preposition to use ? factitious. — Manufactured, or, as we say in colloquial language, " put oq." Distinguish from fictitious, artificial, and factious. * 105 et seq. — Coleridge means that the vulgar (common ?) functionary considers every deviation from the routine and red-tapeism of his office as extravagant and impracticable. 110-13. griffins. — The griffin, griffon, or gryphon was a fabulous animal, half lion and half eagle, which guarded the gold mines in Scythia from the one-eyed people, the Arimaspians. " As when a gryphon through the wilderness, Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth, Had from his wakeful custody purloined The guarded gold." — Par 205-7. their ordinary, etc.— Or " the ordinary acts of.'* of which character.— Or simply insert "of which" after ''gentlemanly." 210-1 1, exteriors. — Better " externals." cognizable. — Cognition is knowledge derived from expe- rience or inspection, r 213-15. Better perhaps, " have done far more » to cause." . which is.— May be omitted. Is the verb in " the proper number? Explain how climate may ir'^aence national character. 219. one shilling gallery.— Of the theatre, with which " the shabby genteel " have to content themselves. ■. jjao. it. — May be omitted. THE FRIEND. 71 221-22. Its moral worth is by no muans proportionate to its tiocial v.ilue. , 226. advantages. — Why not say "circumstances"? 231-34. The parenthesis is altogether too long for such a long sentence. Shorten it to, " which consists, for the most part, in a certain frankness and generosity in details," or, better still, simply insert "gentlemanly" before "character." 235. Should there be a semicolon after " worth " ? 240. bought dearly — Better "dearly bought." Note that while the sentence is unusually long, it is regular in construction, and that it would be difficult to break it up into two or more sentences. 252. venial. — Pardonable. Say, "or even desirable." 254. was sent. — Is the tense correct ? 259. still. — " Even," or omit, and insert " really "after " they." 262. instead of.— Repeat "by." 267. enthusiasm. —This admixture. of enthusiasm and steadiness is perhaps due to the combination of Celtic and Teutonic elements in the composition of our nation and our army, ('oleridge's remarks about the individuality that distinguishes the English soldier are, no doubt, true. It was noticed that in the Peninsular War, where there was admir- able room for comparison, the favorite method of attack by the French was in close column, while the British fought m lines, which trios the individual courage. See Stocqueler's Life of Wellington. 269. se'f-subsistmg.— What is meant? 279. there is but one lace. — The Russians are comparatively an unmixed race. 282. requisite to.— What is the usual preposition ? 296. failure of provision. — " Pfovisions " is now more common. 297. weighing the separate. — Say "comparing." 299-300. What is nieant by the publication of the campaign ? 302. Galicia.— Where? What noted battlefield in it ? 324. appearance. — That is, appearance of force. 329-30. soldiery. — Not often used now. was baked — ' Was baking," or "was being baked, '• would be more expressive. 336. were.— Is the number of the verb correct ? 72 NOTES. 346. To keep the same construction, write "of taking the conse- quence, " or change to "reminding hin) that he must exert . . or take." 349. with famine. — Is " with " the-proper preposition ? 364. and a jealousy. — Insert " by," or omit "a." 365. this.— What is the relation ? Supply some suitable words. 373. Ferdinand IV. of Naples and Sicily. — Naples was invaded by a French army in 1799 and erected into a Republic, and Ferdinand retired for a while to Sicily. He was restored to the throne of Naples in 1815. 376. besiegers. — The British and Maltese. 378. remonstrance.— Generally takes the preposition "against." Say, " urgent appeals (to Ferdinand) for permission to import." 390-400. in flie vulgar apprehension. — Say, "to vulgar appre- hension." Is " more infallible" correct ? 418. Rearrange, so as to bring "whom " next to its antecedent. 423. in the outburst. —Better " in the first outburst." 442-49. The first part of this sentence, down to "each other," is rather loose and inharmonious in construction. Rewrite, and improve it if you can. 480-90 or the transfer. —That is, their ascription to others. Perhaps, in view of what follows, it would be better to insert " both " before "against," and write "and " for "or." 485. in the reported. — ^The relation of this phrase would be seen more clearly by writing. " My indignation has been roused by the latter in," etc. 487. Rees' Encyclopaedia. — Published in 45 vols, in London, 1802-20, by Dr. Abraham Rees, who had edited the second edition of Chambers' Cyclopaedia, 4 vols., 1776-85. It was the chief .work of the kind at the time Coleridge wrote this Essay. Coleridge himself projected an Ency- clopaedia (the E. Metropolitana) on a different plan from any that had appeared. 489. Can yon bring the relative clause nearer the antecedent ? 494-95- unequivocally. — Not doubtfully, but clearly and distinctly, had said. — Would not " werie to say " be better ? 500. with a similar pain.— We would now say, " with like pain." THE FRIEND. 73 505-9. Say. " his head and heart." Better, "as a point of sound pohcy not less than." etc.. or. "as a matter of policy as well as justice." made a party in.— Better, "to." "Subscriber in t/i signature." 509-15. The sentence would perhaps read better if the semicolon were inserted after "country" and omitted after "order," and then the words " of which " omitted. 536. as if— Better, "for if." 540. as to have precluded. -Coleridge is very fond of •• precluded " • simply say •' as to cut ofif the supplies." 541-43. had proved.— Should this be " proved " ? should be exposed— Is " should " correct ? which.—" That " would be better after the indefinite "all ' 552. dissentient—The Maltese could not well be dissentient- their assent had not been asked. Say. " malcontent " or. •' no disaffection." 557. in the power of government.-Say, " in the government " Arrange, "and who. supported, etc.. have now a rightful claim." 561. said -A stronger word than "said" would be better- sav "asserted." "affirmed." '' ' sjSd Mauf.-^" *^* Maltese.-Does not sound well. Say, simply. 569. was— Better say " is," for it is manifest that the impolicy was then not evident." ' 573- at the same time.— Can this phrase be better placed ? 578-80. By inserting "only" before "added." the danger of taking It as a participle is lessened. and was often— What does the " and " couple ? 583. are. — Is the number correct ? 584. Supply " who can feel sure (or can say)." after "or." 587. it shall suit its plans, etc-Might mean, "whenever it shall shape Its plans in order to deliver." etc. Say. " her plans." ESSAY VI. 3-4. the Secretary Dundas -We now say " Secretary Dundas." were — Would " was " be correct ? 11-12. in no wise— Omit " in," or write "in no way." vH=.. -. • *^""»*^<>°-Literal meaning. Express in your own words what It is that is not a part of the Maltese character. 74 NOTES. 19. sobriety. — Gravity, calmness; the opposite of the fanatical agitation of the Sicilians. 21-23. containable. — This is a good word in this place ; it is now little used, we say " capable of being contained." ' whose gSLOl. — As the idea of possession is not the one intended, it would perhaps be better to say "when the gaol is on fire." The predicate, " seems . . body," might be placed after "another," so as to bring " like" next to " soul," of which it is an adjunct. 27. intertwined. — As this verb is seldom used intransitively, perliaps it would be better to insert " was " before it, or " itself" after it. 40. who. — Is this the proper relative to use ? 61. voBngiare. — An Italian verb meaning "to eat." (Fr., manger, L., manducare.) C7. both of.—" Of both," or repeat the " of." 70. as. — Omit. remembrancer. — This word is awkwardly long; say, "reminder." 94. bond of connection. — Is not *' bond " sufficient ? 95. likewise. — Is this word in its proper place ? 97-98. nimierous.— Properly put before " establishment," as that word involves plurality of idea. hapless. — Unfortunate. Give a list of derivatives from " hap." 100. in the contemplation of. — Or " in contemplation by," " con- templated by." 102. and to reside. — Does " and " couple similar constructions here ? 104. et cetera. — Note the freedom with which English takes words and phrases from other languages and makes nouns of them, even mflecting them, as " all the et ceteras," See H. S. Grammar, v., 41. 106. calendar. — Register of civil service. yet inspired.— Express the subject "it," owing to the change of mood and tense. 115. manchineel.— A tropical American . celebrated from the poisonous, acrid, milky juice found in every part of it. A drop of this on the skin produces sores very difficult to heal, and the Indians used it for their arrows. The fruit is something like a small apple. Deaths have been recorded from sleeping in its shade, and rain or dew from its I THE FRIEND. 75 branches always produces injurious effects. The wood is hard and fine, and good for cabinet-making. 1 18-19. preclude.— Say, " defeat." evincing.— Making plain, or proving. 128. he would state. — Account for the form of the verb. Recon- struct the sentence so as to avoid ending with " perform the duties of. " 141. must be. — " Would have to be " would correspond better with the following clause. 145. which endeared them.— What was it that endeared them ? 133-54. Or say, " additional or more imposing equipage." 157. possess. — Repeat " should." 183. were adopted.— Justify the form of the verb. 1S5-86. a gfeneral rule.— That the State shall not enter into compe- tition with individuals in matters of buying and selling. 189. Why not omit " itself" and "for " ? 198. casualties. — Chances. Not often used in this sense. 303. the agfriculture.— Omit " the," or say " the art of agriculture." aio-13. finally taking. — This phrase is loosely attached to the rest of the sentence, the participle having no satisfactory relation. Better, perl)aps, " enabling it to take." realize one instance. — The expression can be defended, but " furnish one instance " is the more usual phrase. cost. — Which is better, •• cost " or " costs" ? az8. people at large.— Of Great Britain. senators. — Members of the House of Lords and House of Commons. translatio T - A rather strange use of the word. The meaning is, *' incapable of turning their zealous opposition lo Jacobinism or Jacpbin principles into an equally strong and well-grounded opposition to the French Government." Galilean. — L., Gallia, the ancient name of France. anti-Jacobinism. — Jacobins were members of a political club that had a great influence in the French Revolution. It was first formed in 1789 from members of the States General, all more or less revolutionary. It gradually became the focus of agitation in the capital, and had branch societies throughout France. Almost all the 76 NOTES. great events which followed the dissolution of the National Assembly in September, 1791, are due to Jacobin influence. The execution of the King and Queen, the storm which destroyed the Girondists, the excite- ment of the lowest classes against the bourgeoisie (middle classes) and aristocracy, and the Reign c rror over France were mainly the work of the Jacobins. The fa., ot Robespierre in 1794 gave the death- blow to their influence, and the reaction was so rapid that in a few months their clubs were closed by law. Jacobinism has since become a name for extreme revolutionary tendencies. Note that Coleridge calls the anti-Jacobinism in England fanatical. 222. or rather for a name —The sentence as it stands hardly conveys the meaning intended, viz., "grew impatient for peace, which, however, proved to be only nominal." The Treaty of Amiens was made in March, 1802, and war was again declared in the following year. The peace was a hollow one on the part of Napoleon, in fact a mere breathing spell to f/erfect his plans and gain time. The desire for peace was due partly to the syr *>athy of a part of the people with the French, but mainly to the di: 1 then prevailing in England in con- sequence of the injury done tx, commerce by the war. 230. nor with. — Would " or " be better ? 235. in. — We say commonly, "from a political or naval view." 240. when. — May be omitted. 247. Would it not be better to supply •• there is " after " cases" ? 248. fable of Love and Death.— The result being that each now and then shoots unintentionally an arrow belonging to the other. 264. re-delivesy of that island.— It and Florida, which Britain had gained with it by the Treaty of Paris, 1763, were given back to Spain by the Treaty of Versailles, 1783. 283-86. as far as.—" In so far " would, perhaps, be better. particular. — Or " personal." re-enliven. — Revive, renew. 292. every inch of him.— Is there a better position for the phrase ? 295. to. — Is this the proper preposition ? What is the relation ? 305. much more of men.— Supply " that " after •• more." 306-13. Note the construction of this sentence. The climax might be made a little stronger by saying, " very lips." tl THF. FRIEND. 77 might 313-20. The part of the sentence after " climate" is "adversative" in meaning to what precedes; this may be more strongly brought out by beginning, "if we add," etc., and writing "then" instead of the " and " following " climate. ' 320-22. the resolution was taken of commencing.— In 1804.— Express in a shorter and simpler form. another admiral.— Sir John Orde. See Southey's Life oj Nelson, chap. viii. 332. to. —What is the relation ? Note the sarcasm in this sentence, and in 11. 349-53 342. spirit-trying service- — What is referred to ? See 306-7. 346. solitary. — " Sole " would be better. 355. and whose. — Change the sentence so as to dispense with " and," or make it couple similar constructions. 359. wounds which were. — Omit " which were." 390. lay on.— We may omit "lay," and simply say "in (or on) every countenance." 392. of the picture. — The reference would be more definite if he had said " of that picture." 396. themselves. — Omit, as unnecessary, and having, moreover, an awkward sound. 397. awake a smile — " Cause a smile," •• provoke a smile," are more common expressions. 405. ripened che wish.— Is this a good metaphor ? How does it compare with, " The wish was father tc the thought " ? 422. distained. — Discolored. 434. lanced. — Launched. 439. appreciate.— Here in its proper sense, viz. ,"set a value on," or, "judge of its value." There is a growing tendency to use the word in the sense of " value highly." 459. instead of communicating it. —So that Malta would be of no use as a watch-post for a British fleet defending Egypt. The student must remember that these were the arguments (440-510) of those who opposed the retention of Malta. 463-65. The parenthesis, like most of Coleridge's, is too long. Shorten it by saying, " which rendered it almost useless in cases of pressing necessity, as, after an action or a storm." 78 NOTES. It , 468. in.— Or "on." 472-73. Where else might the adjuncts "on . , whole." and " in particular," be placed. 475-76. Shorten the parenthesis. 494. the deficit is procured.— The expression has a strange sound. " Deficit " has now become a technical term. Say, " the deficiency is made up." 496-97. or, were it attempted, would produce.— The construction is loose and unsatisfactory. Re-write, so that "or " shall couple similar clauses, and that " would produce," if retained, shall have a subject expressed. 502. What is quite out of the question ? . 511. in the first instance. — Where might this be better placed? 520. disadvantages, etc. — See 11. 466-68. 521-22. harbor of Valetta.— Say, " Valetta harbor," or omit "the harbor of." Port Mahon. — The chief town and port of Minorca. 528. " On a level " is the usual phrase, caeteris paribus.— Other things being equal. 529. Bring the two there^s together by removing the first. 532. previously. — " Previous" is now sactioned by usage, and more common. 533. Mareng^o- — A village of Northern Italy, where in June, 1800, Bonaparte with 20,000 French defeated 32,000 Austrians. 539. transferable. — Also spelled transferrible. 540. Say, "this fact is introduced," etc., making the reference to what has been cited more definite. 542. stood in the same relation.— That is, wanted their help. 546. Is " almost " in its proper place ? 548. nicely poised. — " Nicely " is here properly used in the meaning of "critically." 550. alone.— What is the proper word, and where should it be placed ? 559. or - Would " nor " be correct? THE FRIEND. 79 562. the Barbary powers— At this time, and down to the bombard- ment of Algiers by Lord Exmouth in 1816. the Barbary States ranked as formidable powers. 571- Dey.-The name of the ruler of Tripoli and also of Algiers, up to its conquest by the French. 575 Hippo— Was one of the royal cities of the Numidian Kings called Regius, as distinguished from another Hippo on that coast. 578. Constantine-thf. Great (272-337). -Made Constantinople the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire, which lasted till 1453. He made Christianity the State religion, not so much, perhaps, from con- viction as from policy, 581. Morea.— What was the ancient name ? What is the origin of the name Morea ? 591 stetc of commerce of the Greeks.-Say, " state of Greek commerce." flagfitious injustice. -Has too many s sounds; say, "flagrant injustice." The adjunct, "from . . enemies," requires in its governing word the idea of action. " Pillage " would be better next to It than "slavery." We might substitute "at the hands of" for " from," or write " pillage and enslavement by." END OF THK FRIEND. WRITTEN EXERCISES. pi-m ESSAY III. 1. Write a short Essay on " The V?''"^ of a System of National Education." 2. Give in your own words the substance of the remarks on the value of book knowledge as compared with empirical knowledge. 3. Rewrite, in indirect narrative, the incident related in the third paragraph. 4. Break up into a series of simple sentences the two sentences in 11. 178-184 and 230-237. 5. Describe briefly (with the aid of the extract given in the Notes) Capt. Ball's system of discipline. 6. Write a short Essay having for its subject the quotation from Wordsworth. ESSAY IV. 1. Relate from memory the incident that led to the friendship between Ball and Nelson. 2. Describe briefly, as far as is recorded in the Essay, the part taken by Capt. Ball in the battle of the Nile. m ESSAY V. 1. Describe Sir Alexander Ball's character under the two headings — open to information — uninfluenced by authority. 2. Write a brief Essay on the character of Englishmen, noting the influence of the mingling of races, the insular position, and political and religious institutions. 3. Write a brief Essay on the influence of climate and situation on national character. 4. Give the substance of Sir Alexander's opinions in regard to the merits and demerits of English soldiers. [80] WRITTEN EXERCISES. gj .Jly^^^^'^ ^"'f^ '" ^°"' °^" ^°''^' ^'^^ '"^'^^"t ^^co'-ded in the eighth paragraph. 6. Describe briefly the valuable services rendered by Sir Alexander Ball m connection with the siege and capture of Malta. 7. State briefly the grounds on which Coleridge charges the British Government w,th injustice in its treatment of the Maltese. ESSAY VI. I. Describe the feelings of the Maltese towards Sir Alexander Ball u\^ll '^! '"^*^"*^^ °^ Sir Alexander's views as to the way in which Malta should be governed by the British. ^ 3. Write a br..f Essay on the value of Malta as a British possession froii- tLTLla;:'^^^"^^ °' ^^' ^^^^°^ '' '- - ^- -» ^-'^e. it 5. Sketch briefly the main features of Sir Alexander Balls character