^^^^^^^^^ A STUDENT'S HISTORY OF NGL 5TERATURE !MO UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES STUDENT'S HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE BY WILLIAM EDWARD SIMONDS (Ph. D., Strassbukg) PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE IN KNOX COLLEGE ... * ' 4 1 O ■ BOSTON, NEW YORK, AND CHICAGO HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 7902, BY WILLIAM EDWARD SIMONDE, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED PREFACE The problems involved in the preparation of a book like this are many ; their solution is often a matter of experiment. In attempting A Student's History of English Literature, the writer makes small claim to originality in the method of his compilation. The ad- mirable text-books of Pancoast, of Moody and Lovett, of Halleck, and of Johnson, as well as the older stand- ard histories, have suggested many points of practical utility ; and the writer hastens to acknowledge his in- debtedness to his predecessors. In the interest of clearness the author has adopted the simplest possible division of his subject — that ac- cording to centuries ; and has relied upon the subdivi- sions of his chapters to emphasize properly the impor- tant literary movements of each period. He has assumed that as many as possible of the essential facts in literary history should be presented to his readers. Not only should the student become acquainted with the principal movements and epochs in our literary development — not only should he be given the opportunity to gain the comprehensive view that includes forces and influences which initiate and modify them — but he should also have before him what may be called the mechanical de- tails of the subject, — mere facts of literary record, neither picturesque nor inspiring in themselves, but in- dispensable even to an elementary knowledge of liter- iv PREFACE ary history. The writer has, therefore, followed the biographical method more closely than some authors who have briefly summarized their biographical studies and enlarged the scope of their technical criticism. The suggestions for study have been prepared in the hope that they will assist both pupil and teacher in the study of literature. In their preparation the writer has also kept in mind the not impossible student out of school who, without professional assistance or direction, is ambitious to become really acquainted with litera- ture as well as with its history. In these suggestions has been embodied such analysis and criticism as seemed reasonable in a text-book of this grade. It is probable that the courses suggested will be found in some instances more extended than the time allotted will permit ; of course the teacher will be guided by his own discretion in their use. Will it not be advan- tageous occasionally to base the exercise entirely upon these suggested studies without requiring in the class- room a formal recitation of the biographical details given in the preliminary sketch ? The author will wel- come all criticism based upon practical experience with these notes. Much of the material used in sections dealing with the romancers and novelists has been taken from chap- ters in the author's Introduction to a Study of Eng- lish Fiction, published by D. C. Heath and Company. In the biographical sketch of Walter Scott and the study suggestions upon Ivanhoe, similar use has been made of material included in the school edition of Ivan- hoc published by Scott, Foresman and Company. The author has drawn also, in the account of De Quincey, PREFACE upon the biographical introduction to his edition of De Quincey's Revolt of the Tartars, published by Ginn and Company. For the cordial permission of these houses to use this material, the writer desires to ex- press his thanks. CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. The Anglo-Saxon Period 1 Britain and the English 2 Anglo-Saxon Poetry , . . S Anglo-Saxon Prose ....... 29 The Nation and the Language ..... 35 II. The Anglo-Norman Period 41 The New Invasion ........ 41 Development of Middle English Literature . . 43 The Age of Chaucer 59 Geoffrey Chaucer : Poet of the Dawn .... 64 III. The Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries ... 82 The Fifteenth Century : The Renascence ... 82 First Half of the Sixteenth Century .... 89 Representative Prose and Verse in the Elizabethan Age 98 Development of the English Drama .... 108 William Shakespeare and his Successors . . . 1 29 IV. The Seventeenth Century 170 The Last of the Elizabethans : Bacon .... 170 The Puritan Movement : Milton .... 179 Seventeenth Century Lyrics 199 The Restoration : Bunyan, Dryden .... 206 V. The Eighteenth Century 222 The Augustan Age of English Prose .... 222 The Poetry of Alexander Pope ..... 249 Rise of the English Novel 265' Essayists of the Second Half 281, The Romantic Movement in English Poetry . . 303 VI. The Nineteenth Century . .... 316 The New Poetry : Wordsworth, Coleridge . . . 316 The Romantic Movement in Fiction : Scott . . . 333 The Revolutionary Poets : Byron, Shelley . . . 350 Romanticism in English Prose : Lamb, De Quincey . 369 The Great Essayists : Macaulay, Carlyle, Ruskin . 389 Maturity of the Novel : Dickens, Thackeray, George Eliot 412 The Victorian Poets : Browning, Tennyson . . . 431 Index • ^65 k STUDENT'S HISTORY OF ENG LISH LITERATURE CHAPTER I THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD I. Britain and the English. II. Anglo-Saxon Poetry. III. Anglo-Saxon Prose. IV. The Nation and the Language. By the term Literature is meant those written or printed compositions which preserve the thought and experience ot a race recorded in ai-tistic form. The element of beauty must be present in greater or less degree, and such works must be inspired by a purpose to afford intellectual pleasure to the one who reads them or hears them read. Books written to give information merely are not usually in- cluded in this term ; text-books, scientific treatises, chronicles, reports, and similar compilations hardly be- long to literature ; but works in which the imagina- tive power of the writer is engaged, those which move or stir the feelings and appeal to the sense of beauty which is found in every intelligent mind — these make up the real literature of a people. Such are poems and dramas, prose works also, in which these elements 2 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD may find a place ; works which are distinguished by the quality called style, and which reflect more or less of the personality which gave them birth. Hence it has happened frequently that books designed to inform have also partaken of these other qualities as well, and have found a permanent place in the literature of our land ; such, for example, are the reviews of Macaulay, the political pamphlets of Swift and Burke, the his- tories of Gibbon and Hume, the narrative papers of De Quincey, the essays of Ruskin and Carlyle. The history of our English Literature begins almost coincidently with the arrival and settlement of large companies of our Teutonic ancestors in Britain about 450 a. d. I. BRITAIN AND THE ENGLISH. So far as history records, the ^earliest_ inh abitants of Britain were a Ce ltic race, the CymrH These and the people were not unknown to the Romans even in very early times ; in B. C. 55 the island was invaded by Julius Caesar, although at that period no permanent colony was established. In the next cen- tury new invasions followed, and for many years the island was a frequent battle-ground for the Roman le- gions as they advanced in their conquest of the world. Gradually their victories in Britain carried civilization well to the north, until the Roman frontier was marked by a great line of defense, crossing from the Firth of Forth to the Clyde. Fo r four hundred years the Ro- wiiian occup at'p" contiajjflS K,,i t?in ^q»^»q a colony ; native citizens of Rome settled there, and their descend- ants remained. Permanent camps were established in places of vantage ; splendid military roads were built traversing the island ; the fields were tilled ; the mines were worked ; seaports were developed ; the exports of THE ROMANS AND THE TEUTONS 3 Britain became an important factor in the commerce of Europe. Even the luxuries of Roman life were not lacking in wealthy fortified towns like York, Lincoln, and London. However, the legions were withdr awn from Britain in 410 a. d . in order to defend the empire" in Italy from the incursions of the Goths ; and the de- cay of Roman civilization began. The rapidity of its disappearance is noteworthy. Besides the solid paving of their famous roads and the remains of their massive walls, scarcely a trace of this domination is to be found. Only a half-dozen words remain in our language as the undisputed heritage of that long period to remind us that the Latin tongue was during these four hundred years the native speech of the rulers of the land. The names of many English towns, like Chester, Winchester, Worces- ter, Gloucester, Lancaster, and Doncaster, preserve the Latin castra, a camp ; the English street (as in Wat- ling Street, the name of an ancient Roman road run- ning north from Dover to Chester) represents, doubt- less, the Latin strata via, a paved way ; while portus, fossa, villa, and vallum may at this time have supplied the words which give us modern port, fosse, villa, and wall. The native Celts had been partially chris- tianized as early as the third century ; by the begin- ning of the fifth the Church in Britain had attained a decided growth, and was an institution of considerable power. Upon the withdrawal of the Roman arms, the south- ern part of the island was speedily overrun by fierce tribes from the highlands of the north, and by other tribes no less fierce from Ireland on the west. Invasions by the Northmen and by the Germans from the shores of the North Sea and the Baltic were frequent also on the eastern coast. Par- ticularly these last, appearing suddenly and settling 4 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD with their white-winged ships, like swift and merciless birds of prey, were a constant menace to the dwellers along the coast, whose homes they burned, and whose property they stole away. In 449 the Britons invited aid from one of these same Teutonic tribes, and in that year a colony from Jutland, under the twin chiefs Hengest and Horsa, settled on the island of Thanet off the coast of Kent. But the Jutes themselves soon turned invaders, and as fleet followed fleet, bringing successive bands of their kinsfolk, Kent also became their possession, together with various tracts along the /southern coast. Perhaps because of the success of /these first-comers, perhaps because of the crowding of | vigorous warlike neighbors, representatives of two other / tribes, the Ang les and the Saxons , peoples nearly re- / lated to the _Jut es, joined in the general migration of / the tribes. Dwellers originally in the low-coast coun- / tries of North Germany bordering on the North Sea, inhabiting a part of the Danish peninsula and territory \ extending westward as far as the mouth of the Emms, a region beset with fog and damp, and constantly ex- posed to the incursions of the sea, the life of these hardy Teutons was one continuous struggle with storm and flood. No wonder that in their eyes the island of Britain appeared a bright and winsome land, or that they were attracted to its sunnier shore. The ocean ways had long been familiar to them, and for genera- tions before the final movement their adventurous bands of sea-rovers had pillaged and harried the British coasts. These tr ibes lipd munli in f£in ninii ; {.hey were of one pa re nt stock, t heir lan guage was practically one, their social"customs and i nstitutions were alike. Their "religion was th e common religion of the north . The names of our "week days preserve still the memory of their gods. Wednesday is the day sacred to Woden, \ THE HOME-MAKING 5 the head of their mythology and the ancestor of their kings ; Thor, the god of thunder and storm, is remem- bered in Thursday ; Frig's name appears in Friday ; while Tuesday takes the name of Tiw, the god of darkness and death. Prominent in their mythology is Wyrd, the genius of fate : " Goes ever Wyrd as it will," declares the hero of the epic Beowulf. Yet, pagans though they were, savage to cruelty in feud and war, boastful of speech, heavy eaters and deep drinkers, our Teutonic forefathers were at the same time a sturdy, healthful race, maintaining customs that were honest and wholesome, morally sound, and in many ways superior to the more cultured peoples of southern Europe. As we have seen, the Jutes populated the eastern county of Kent ; they also established settle- The Home- ments here and there on the southern coast. Making. The Angles settled in the country north of that occu- pied by the Jutes, and built up a great kingdom known as East Anglia, a division of which into Northfolk and Southfolk is still indicated in the shires of Norfolk and Suffolk ; still farther north did this English conquest move, until even Northumbria was under the English power. Meanwhile the Saxons had not lagged behind their neighbors in the conquest of the island. Succes- sive migrations of this people had already won more than a foothold upon the southern shore, and different divisions of the tribe shared in the possession of this part of South Britain. East Saxons ruled the district lying between Kent and Suffolk, which is now called Essex ; to the south of them lay the domain of the South Saxons, who have left their name in Sussex; while the more powerful kindred of the West Saxons covered the territory as far west as Cornwall, and won in time the dominion of all South England, establish- 6 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD ing the great kingdom of Wessex. Thus the history of Britain from tlm hpg-irmino- n f * llp fiffV> npnfnry tn the beginning of the s eventh is a confused and blood y ' chro nicle. of invasion and co nquest- The ^eltic rac e — that portion of it which was not absorbed by intermin- gling with the invaders — was enslaved or driven toward the west and north ; those who found an abiding place among the mountains of the west were given by their Teuton conquerors the na me of We.hh A or strangers I A, At the beginning of the ninth century there were four jl principal divisions of the English people : there were (1) the English of the north, covering the whole of Northumberland, and (2) the English of East Anglia in Norfolk and Suffolk ; Kent was fairly included. I Lwithin the borders of (3) the West Saxons, while (4) the central division of the island, also Anglian, sur- rounded on three sides by these other kingdoms, and on the west by the Welsh, was known as Mercia, the country of the March, or the border. During the ninth century a new spoiler appeared on the English coasts. The Danes began their forays on these earlier invaders, and the English peoples, who for two hundred years had been contending among themselves for leadership, were finally united into one nation under Ecgberht, King of the West Saxons, and still more securely under the great King Alfred (871- 901) through the force of a common peril and common need. These long- centuries of c ojiqn^ arirl a djustment in the histor y of these related German tribes may be cTesignafecfas the Anglo-Saxon Period ; it extends fr om t he arrival of Hengest and H fljjj ' n 449 *° fhpi ffia- s ion of the JSlorman sjindrr Willinm i p 1066 1 an d thus covers the space of a little more than six^ hundred years. 8 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD II. ANGLO-SAXON POETRY. These fair-skinned, blue-eyed English folk were, from the first, lovers of song and story. The The Scop. .. „ ' . .. ° J very relics or their earliest art preserve the scene and spirit of their recreation. Fierce in fight, often merciless in the pursuit of a conquered foe, they loved the gleam of their own hearth-fire and the coarse comfort of the great Saxon hall, with its heavy tables and crowded benches. Here at night the troop gath- ered, carousing, in some interval of peace. The earl himself, at the high table set crosswise at one end of the huge hall, had before him his noisy band of vassals thronging the mead-benches. The blaze of the hearth- fire in their midst lights up the faces of these ruddy, strong-limbed warriors ; it flashes on spear and axe, and is reflected from the armor, curiously woven of link-mail, which grotesquely decorates the walls, half hidden by shaggy skins of wolf and bear. The noisy feasting is followed by a lull. The harp appears. Perhaps the lord of the household himself receives it, and in vigorous tones chants in time with the twanging chords some epic of his ancestors, or boasts of his own fierce deeds. Perhaps the instrument is passed from hand to hand while thane after thane unlocks the " word-hoard " of his memory as he may. But most frequently it is the jirofessional scop, or gleeman, who strikes the rhythmic notes, and takes up the burden of the tale ; he has a seat of honor near his lord : to him the rough audience listens spellbound ; he sways their wild spirits at his will. " There was chant and harp-clang together In presence of Healfdene's battle-scarred heroes. The glee-wood was welcomed, tales oft recounted When Hrothgar's scop, delight of the dwelling After the mead-bout, took up the tolling. WIDSITH AND DEOR 9 The song was sung out The gleeman's tale ended. Spirits soared high Carousing reechoed." * Widsith, or Far-farer, may have been the name of such a singer, whose fame is preserved in widsith what is apparently the very oldest of Old Eng- and Deor - lish poems extant. It is preserved in the so-called Exeter Book, a priceless volume of Anglo-Saxon man- uscript, presented to the Cathedral at Exeter by Bishop Leofric (1046-73), still in the possession of the cathedral. Sometimes called The Scop, or The Traveller's Song, this ancient poem catalogues the wanderings of the gleeman. " Widsith unlocked his word-hoard ; and then spake He among men whose travel over earth Was farthest through the tribes and through the folks : Treasure to be remembered came to him Often in hall. Among the Myrgings, nobles gave him berth. In his first journey he, with Ealhhild, The pure peace-maker, sought the fierce king's home, Eastward of Ongle, home of Eormanric, The wrathful treaty-breaker." 2 Hermanric, the great king of the Goths, died before the close of the fourth century ; and if Widsith told his own story, as parts of the poem indicate, we have here a composition dating from the period before the migration, although the long catalogue of kings and heroes contains some names which mark a later gener« ation and prove the interpolation of a later hand. " Thus wandering, they who shape songs for men Pass over many lands, and tell their need, And speak their thanks, and ever, south or north, Meet some one skilled in songs and free in gifts, Who would be raised among his friends to fame And do brave deeds till light and life are gone. 1 Beowulf, 11. 1063-1067, 1159-1161. 2 Morley's translation, English Writers, vol. ii. 10 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD He who has thus -wrought himself praise shall have A settled glory underneath the stars." * So Widsith concludes. A companion poem, dating apparently from the same early period, presents the scop in a more melancholy mood. This is Deors La- ment, the composition of some singer who has felt more of the bitterness of life, having been superseded in the favor of his lord by some cleverer scop, and now lingers late on earth after most of his comrades and patrons have gone. " Whilom was I Scop of the Heodenings : Dear unto my lord ! Deor was my name. Well my service was to me many winters through ; Loving was my lord ; till at last Heorrenda — Skilled in song the man ! — seized upon my land-right That the guard of Earls granted erst to me. That, one overwent ; this, also may I." - But by far the most interesting and impressive ex- ample of early English art is found in our great Anglo-Saxon epic, three thousand lines in length, which preserves out of the distant past the mythical career of Beowulf, prince of the Geats. The form of the epic as we know it appears to have been the work of a Northumbrian poet in either the eighth or ninth century. It embodies various legends re- ported in earlier songs, the first of which were undoubt- edly composed on the Continent, probably by poets of Angle-land. An interesting feature of this final ver- sion, which possesses the unity of the genuine epic along with the other characteristics of such compositions, is that it represents the work of a Christian writer who has sought to modify the paganism of its earlier narra- tive by injecting something of the religious spirit of his own time into the grim mythology of the older lay. 1 Morley, English \\'n'/,rs, vol. ii. 2 fetopford Brooke, History of Early English Literature. BEOWULF • 11 The title of the poem repeats the name of its hero. Beowulf is a typical champion, endowed with super- human strength, sagacity, courage, and endurance ; moreover, in common with the heroes of this type, he is foreordained to relieve the ills of those who have great need, and is always ready to respond to their necessity. The story is this : — Hrothgar, the Dane, far-famed for his victories, for his justice and generosity no less, grown old TheTale in years, builds for his warriors a great mead- hall. There the gray-haired chieftain assembles his vassals for feasting and mirth ; but an unheard-of hor- ror comes upon Heorot, great " hall of the hart," which Hrothgar has built. Out from the fens, when night falls, stealthily creeps the bog-monster Grendel; en- ters the new house where the earls after carousal lie asleep on the benches. One and another and another of Hrothgar's men is attacked and devoured by the demon ; night after night Grendel devastates the mead- hall. No one of Hrothgar's thanes is brave enough or strong enough to cope with the monster. Heorot is deserted, and the old chief sits gloomily in his former home to mourn in silence the loss of men and of honor. Up in the Northland Hygelac's thane, Beowulf, young, bold, robust, already famous for a daring feat in swim- ming, and destined to be Hygelac's heir and successor, hears of Hrothgar's plight and of Grendel. Soon, with a band of chosen men, Beowulf travels southward, fol- lows " the whale-path," " the swan-road," until his ship strikes the shore of Hrothgar's kingdom. The coast- guard, first descried sitting his horse like a statue, gal- lops to meet the strangers and challenges their landing. Beowulf is conducted to Hrothgar and declares his purpose to kill the monster and free the land. Gladly does the Dane listen and generous welcome does he 12 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD make for the Northmen. Night comes, and once more is Heorot ablaze with the light of the hearth-fire and noisy with the merriment of revel. Wassail is drunk, tales are told, bold boasts are made ; but hardly have the shouts died away, and the revelers disposed them- selves to sleep on the benches, when the fearful fen- dragon approaches : he has heard the noise of feasting from afar, and now he steals toward the hall, lauffhiner as he thinks of his prey. The fire has died out ; the hall is in darkness. One of Hrothgar's men is seized and devoured. Raging, with lust for flesh aroused, Grendel grasps another in his claws ; but it is the hero whom the bog-monster has unwittingly caught, and now Beowulf, roused for vengeance, starts up to battle with Grendel. Unarmed, the hero grapples with his enemy. The hall sways with the shock of the fighting. He clutches Grendel by the wrist ; never had the monster felt a grasp like that. The muscles ache, the cords of the demon's arms are snapping, the shoulder is torn from the socket ; the weary marsh-dweller gropes his way blindly forth, and weakly wends toward his foul home in the swamp-land. Grendel is wounded to the death. Beowulf rests after victory, and shows the hid- eous claw, his war trophy, to the Danes. Great joy comes to Hrothgar with the dawn, but with the night woe returns. Grendel's mother now issues from the death-breeding marshes, and invades the hall of Heorot. Once more there is wailing among the thanes, once more sorrow sits in Hrothgar's house ; but once again Beowulf girds himself for battle. With his faithful followers, the hero now invades the fatal fen-land it- self ; he stands upon the shore of the mist-covered in- let where the marsh-demons breed. Strange and loath- some shapes appear, half shrouded in fog ; nixies and sea-dragons sprawl on the rocks or beat the water glar- BEOWULF 13 ing at the hero from the cloudy waves of the mere. Here Beowulf equips himself, puts on his best corselet, grasps the strongest brand ; then he enters the dark water, presses down through the flood, beset by the sea-monsters, bruised by their shasp tusks, undaunted, down, down to the dwelling of the monsters, where the fierce she-demon waits. Meanwhile his men keep watch and ward above ; gloom settles on them ; doubt fills their hearts with dread. The clay drags by ; no sight of their hero. Still they wait, and silent stare on the sea. Now a commotion stirs the thick water ; the surface boils under the mists ; blood rolls up red through the foam, and Beowulf's men yield to grief and despair. But soon the grief gives way to glad- ness, for the hero himself emerges from the horrible flood, bringing news of the she-demon's slaughter and a new trophy, Grendel's head ; this it was that sent the red blood welling up through the mere depths when Beowulf smote Grendel's dead body. Loud is the re- joicing ; triumphantly do the Northmen give the Danes warning of their home-coming. Rich are the gifts be- stowed by Hrothgar ; great is the feasting. Then Beo- wulf's followers remember the home-land ; the " slip- pery sea-rover " is launched, the warriors embark with their presents, Beowulf says farewell to Hrothgar, and steers north to Hygelac's kingdom. Beowulf achieves another adventure. Now he is old : as Hygelac's successor, fifty winters he has ruled well and wisely ; his land has prospered, but an enemy now destroys his men, and by night the land is laid waste. This time it is a fire-drake with which Beowulf must battle ; and the hero goes forth, dauntless as ever, to meet the monster. But now his men prove cowards ; the hero is left alone to fight with the dragon, — alone but for Wiglaf , who stands behind his lord's shield and 14 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD helps as he may. Long they fight, monster and man ; this is no Grendel, this fire-spurter. The fierce heat shrivels up the shield, the heroes are hard pressed ; but at last Wiglaf disables the dragon, Beowulf gives the deathblow. But Beowulf, too, has been hurt and, though victor, lies sick of his death-wound. Then Wiglaf brings forth the hoard from the cave where the worm had so long guarded it, and Beowulf feasts his eyes ere they close upon the vast treasure he bequeaths to his people. The hero is dead : rear his funeral pyre ! Upon the tall promontory, a beacon to sailors, friends burn the body ; with the roar of the flames mingle death-chant and wailing. Such are the stories that children usually delight in ; thus in the childhood of our race was this Signifi- cance oi tale told. Perhaps under the mists of their 1 e Ep c " swampy, sea-swept land, the rush of the storm and the more subtle attacks of malarious fevers may be grotesquely and fancifully shadowed forth, evaded only by the courage and wisdom of some hero who builds the dikes or drains the marshes ; but after all the main fact is that our Anglo-Saxon forefathers approved the qualities idealized in this hero of the epic, and honored in him the stout-hearted men of their race who con- tended not only with flesh and blood, but with those mysterious hosts, those uncanny powers of sea and air, whose existence they assumed, but whose nature and form lay hidden in the darkness of fog and night. The poem of Beowulf supplies many vivid picturings of early English life and manners ; the hero of the poem is really the idealization of the Anglo-Saxon himself. That there is an historical basis for the myth is hardly to be doubted. The name of Ilygelac is identified with that of Cochilaicus (a northern chieftain who was slain in battle about the year 520). In the latter part «,ode v ur)no~ nm, foef L&w v.on -^em^* . li- te Xhnecfiati (y^an mhv 1?-coni iam HufeC liu W Jittm^ dene- <£j-rsr€j* tie- afelw^a, ^e^iW fyep^w *epr£^ 'co ham zantstf trxib \<8Q&" V<£i pfrlLc VIC& Haprff ^r^jt, ptfre- pTp up d/i*pe* imcet priori p epyan -5 4f-ccf y^f j> 5^ f M ^ SEDUCED FACSIMILE OF A PAGE OF BEOWULF MANUSCIUPT IN THE BKITISH MUSEUM 16 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD of the poem there is evidently a mingling of the story with the myth of Siegfried and the dragon of the Rhinegold, Faffner. Of the feats ascribed to Beowulf, the account of a remarkable swimming match described in the poem may easily be based on fact, and the inci- dent of the hand-to-hand struggle with sea-monsters and the plunge downward to the submarine cave is not so wholly incredible as it might seem. There is but a single manuscript of the Beowulf poem, greatly damaged by fire and age, now preserved in the British Museum. There are 3180 lines in the poem, and it is worth while to examine its form somewhat in detail. The epic be- gins thus : — The Metrical Form. " Hwset ! we Gar-Dena peod-cyninga, hu pa ai5eliugas Oft Scyld Scefing monegum msegpum (egsode eorl), fea-seeaft f unden ; weox under wolcnum, oS \>ait him ffighwylc ofer hron-rade gomban gyldan " Lo ! we of the Spear-Danes Of warrior kings How the princes Oft Scyld, son of Scef, From many kindreds, The Earl inspired terror Helpless, a waifling ; Waxed under the welkin, Until to him each Over the whale-road Tribute paid : in gear-dagum prym gefrunon, ellen fremedon. sceapena preatum, meodo-setla ofteah. SySSan seres I wearS he pass frofre gebad, weorS-myndum pah, para ymb-sittendra hyran scolde, past wffis god cyning ! " in days of yore the fame have heard ; mighty deeds wrought. from hosts of foes, the mead-benches took ; after first he was found he for that comfort found later, in honors throve. of those dwelling around him obedience gave, that was a goodly king ! " Then follows the genealogy of Hrothgar, builder of Heorot and victim of Grendel's ra«e. ANGLO-SAXON VERSE 17 The characteristic structure of Anglo-Saxon verse is illustrated in the passage given. The composition is metrical, although the number of syllables in one vei>se may vary from that in another. While there is no end-rhyme in these verses, there is a recurrence of con- sonants which forms a rhyme in the body of the verse ; this repetition of initial sounds is called alliteration, and this is the most conspicuous feature of Anglo- Saxon poetry. The common type of verse is found in lines 4, 5, 7, 8, 11, where two syllables alliterating in the first half -verse are followed by one such in the second. The alliteration is a mark of emphasis always, but the position of these emphatic syllables is not uni- form. Sometimes, as in lines 2, 10, a single syllable in the first half-verse alliterates with one in the second ; such a double correspondence as occurs in line 1 is rare. In lines 3, 6, 9 vowel alliteration occurs, and this does not require that the vowels shall be the same. Read or chanted by the gleeman, a pronounced rhythm was imparted to the lines, emphasized by the pauses and the accents, which were strongly marked. Recited thus with resonant tones to the rhythmical twang of the harp-cord, this which seems so rude and hoarse became a vigorous, not unmelodious song. The most striking characteristic of Anglo-Saxon poetry is the rough vigor, the intense energy, of its homely but effective style. There is spirit virile strength and power in its movement, its "^""jj 8 emphasis, imagery, and theme. If one reads Saxon these ancient memorials of our forefathers intelligently and in a mood sympathetic with their half-wild, half-cultured spirit, he will be captivated by the sweep and power of their verse. The imagery of the early gleemen is rich in metaphors, metonymy, and personification. The ocean is poetically termed the 18 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD " whale-path," the " swan-road ; " the ship is described as the " wave-traverser," the " floater, foamy-necked, like to some sea-fowl ; " 2 the gleeman's repertory is his " word-hoard ; " the sun becomes " God's bright candle," " heaven's gem ; " swords " bite," the war-horn " sings ; " Hrothgar is called the " helm " of the Scyld- ings. In descriptive passages the poet loved to let his fancy play about his theme, reintroducing the idea, but turning his phrase to let light fall upon it from some other side. Thus, in describing the hero's preparation for his encounter with the sea-wife, the poet says : — " Beowulf girded him, Wore his war-armor ; not for life was he anxious. The linked coat of mail, the hand-woven corselet Broad and gold-embossed, should breast the deep currents; That which the bone-chamber well should protect, That his breast by the battle-grip might not be bruised, The attack of the terror bring scath to his body. But the white-shining helmet guarded his head ; This mid the mere-depths with sea-waves should mingle, With treasure adorned should dart through the surges, Encircled with gems, as in days that are bygone The weapon-smith wrought it, wondrously worked it, A boar's crest above it that never thereafter Brand might it bite or battle-sword harm it." " 2 Naturally enough these early English poets were in- spired by the deeds of warriors, and their work is full not only of battle scenes, but also of the imagery of war. In nature they were impressed by the elemen- tal phenomena of storm and climate, — the descent of winter, the birth of spring. As they delighted in the narrative of conflict, so they loved to picture man's struggle with the sea and to sing of the ocean in all its varying moods : — ■ Beowulf, 1. '-'is. - Ibid. II. 1441-1454. Compare also the parallelisms in Csedmon's hymn, p. 22. CONVERSION OF THE SAXONS 19 " The wild rise of the waves, The close watch of night At the dark prow in danger Of dashing on rock. The wide joy of waters The whirl of salt spray. There is no man among us So proud in his mind, Nor so good in his gifts, Nor so gay in his youth, Nor so daring in deeds, Nor so dear to his lord That his soul never stirred At the thought of sea-faring." 1 The reestablishment of Christianity in Britain intro- duced a new epoch in English life and litera- The Con- ture. While among the native Cymri there L er t l lon were many who had adopted the Christian Saxons. religion, largely through the ministration of Irish missionaries, the Anglo-Saxons themselves continued in the worship of Woden and Thor, and in many parts of England the older native paganism of the Druids was still maintained. But in the year 597 Augustine, the Apostle to the Saxons as he was called, sent from Rome by Pope Gregory I., landed on that little isle of Thanet, where a hundred and fifty years earlier Hengest and Horsa had gained their first foothold on the British coast ; by the end of the year this mission- ary had baptized ten thousand Saxon converts. He was consecrated archbishop, founded the Cathedral church at Canterbury, and died there in 604. Under the teaching of Paulinus, Aidan, and others, Northumbria was gradually won for the faith. 2 Communities of 1 The Seafarer, Morley's translation, English Writers, vol. ii. 2 Several interesting traditions of the conversion of Edwin's folk and the parable of the sparrow are pleasantly told by Wordsworth, Ecclesi- astical Sonnets, xiii., xiv., xv., xvi. 20 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD devotees, where both men and women piously inclined gathered for religious fellowship and a consecrated life, were established, and in time became seats of learning as well as centres of religious zeal. Very ancient was the famous community of monks estab- lished by Columba, the Irish exile, on the island of Iona, off the western coast of Scotland ; in a sense Iona was the mother of the new religious settlement at Lindisfarne, or Holy Island, on the bleak Northum- brian coast, where Aidan placed his seat. In 657, at Whitby, on the Yorkshire cliffs overlooking the North Sea, Hilda founded her community of Streoneshalh. In 673 a band of monks settled at Ely, in Cambridge- shire. Peterborough began the building of its great abbey about ten years later, and J arrow, ever associ- ated with the fame of Bede, had its beginning at about this time. With the growth of Christian sentiment a new spirit appears in Anglo-Saxon literature. Old motives are curiously adapted to the new ends. The glory of conflict still occupies the mind of the poet, warfare and bloodshed are still described, but the ma- terial is drawn from Hebrew history, or from the lives of saints and martyrs. The old fatalism of the Teu- tons is greatly modified, and the melancholy of the pagan gives place to the Christian's hopefulness and faith. Thus, in a long religious poem of the eighth century, we find passages like this : — " I have heard the fame of a land far hence ; Eastward it lies, loveliest of lands Known among 1 men. Not easy of access To many earth-dwellers, who this mid-region traverse. Is this favored retreat, but far is it removed Through the Creator's might from ill-minded men. Fair aiv its fields, full of delights; Fragrant with fairest odors of earth. There is no land like this land ; marvelous its Maker, Proud, rich in power, he who thus planned it ! CAEDMON 21 There is oft granted to the blessed tog-ether Harmonies glorious, Heaven's gates flung wide open. That is a winsome land ; wide wave its forests Green neath the sky. Nor may there rain nor snow, Neither frost's bite nor fire's blast, Neither hail's dart nor hoar-frost's blight, Neither blazing heat nor bitter cold, Neither hot wind, nor winter storm Work wrong to any ; but this wonder-land Seemeth blessed and blissful, a-blossom with bloom.'' 1 With the first appearance of this new motive in onr literature, we make acquaintance with the personality of our first native English poet mon, died whose name is preserved, — the humble singer whose interesting story has been told by Baeda, or Bede, in his Historia J?cclesiastica, compiled within some sixty years of this singer's death. According to Bede, there was living at the Monastery of Streones- halh (Whitby), in the time of the Abbess Hilda, who died in 680, a lay brother by the name of Caedmon. This man was of mature age, unlearned, and engaged on common menial tasks. Without skill in song or improvisation, Caedmon was compelled to keep silence when the harp passed from hand to hand at the even- ing merry-makings, where each was expected to assist in the general entertainment. Sometimes, says Bede, when he saw the harp coming near him he rose from the table and silently slipped away. One evening thus he betook himself to the stables, the care of the cattle having been for that night assigned to him. Here he slept, and as he slept some one stood by him and saluted him, calling him by name : " Caedmon," said he, " sing me something ! r But he replied, " I know not how to sing ; since for that very reason I have left the company, because I cannot sing." And 1 The Phoenix, II. 1-20 ; attributed to Cynewulf. The first part of this poem is a paraphrase of a Latin original. 22 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD the one who talked with him said : " Nevertheless you shall sing to me." "What shall I sing?" he asked. Then that one replied : " Sing the beginning of cre- ated things." Then Csedmon arose and sang in praise of God the Creator verses of which this is the sense : " Now we ought to praise the Author of the Heavenly kingdom, the power of the Creator, and his counsel, the deeds of the Father of Glory. How He, the Eternal God, of all wonders the Author became ; who first for the children of men created Heaven for a roof, then the earth, Guardian of the human race, the Almighty." This is the sense, says Bede, but not the order of the words which he sane. 1 This was the vision; in the morning Caedmon re- cadmon's membered his dream and was able to recite works. the verses he had uttered while asleep. Hilda, the abbess, greatly interested in Caedmon's 1 This important work of Bede was afterward translated by King- Alfred from the Latin into the Anglo-Saxon tongue (see page 34). In the text Alfred incorporated the following version of Ca3dmon's hymn, which possibly retains in large part the " order " as well as the "sense " of the original song. It may at all events serve to illustrate iurther the fashion of Anglo-Saxon verse. (Zupitza's reading is used.) " Nu Bculan herigean lieofonricea weard, Meotodes meahte ond his modgethanc, Weorc wuldorfseder, swa lie wundra gehwaes, Ece driliten, or onsteal'le. He arrest sceop eorthan bearnum Heofon to hrofe, halig seyppend : Tlia middangeard, inoncynnes weard, Ece drihten, aefter teode Firum, foldan, frea wlmihtig." Translation. " Now ought we to worship the Warder of Hpaven, T1k> might of the Creator and His mighty thought ; The work of the glorious Father ; how he of every wonder, Kternal Lord, — a beginning made. He first created for the children of earth Heaven for a roof, — holy Creator ; Then the mid-region, — Guardian of mankind ; The Kternal Lord afterward established For men the earth ; Ruler Almighty." CYNEWULF 23 story, directed the unlearned man to come daily to the monastery, where the monks told him the narra- tive of sacred history. " Then Caedmon meditated all that he heard and, like a clean animal ruminat- ing, turned it into sweetest verse. And his songs were so winsome to hear that his teachers themselves wrote down his words and learned from him." 1 Then Caedmon himself became a monk, and inspired by this poetic fire so mysteriously kindled, paraphrased the accounts of Genesis and Exodus, together with many other portions of the Scripture narrative. " Not at all from men was it," says Bede, " nor instructed by man, that he learned the song-craft ; but he was divinely in- spired and by God's gift he received the power of song ; therefore he never would compose fanciful or idle verses, but only those which pertain to righteous- ness, and which it became his pious tongue to sing." Many others in England began to write religious poe- try after Caedmon's time, but none could compare with him. Such was Bede's judgment of this first poet of the soil, who sang because he was commanded. Thus has it ever been when the unaffected poetry of nature has its birth. Aside from Caedmon, the only one of the Old Eng- lish poets known to us by name is Cynewulf, a writer of great influence and a poet of gen- bom about uine power. Yet Cynewulf's actual person- ality and the details of his life are so obscured by the shadows of a distant past that there is more of con- jecture than of certainty in the accepted narrative of his career. His work must have fallen about a cen- tury after Caedmon's. We are assured that he, too, was a Northumbrian. Unlike the older singer of such humble origin, Cynewulf was from the first a mover in 1 King Alfred's Anglo-Saxon version of Bede's Historia. 24 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD courtly circles, — in one of his poems he tells us as much, — was perhaps of noble lineage, at least a thane or a retainer of some high lord. With the experiences of the warrior he must have been familiar, for his war- scenes are realistic, and the spirit of the soldier speaks in the vividness of his narrative. A traveler who knew the sea and had been in distant lands, a scholar to whom the Latin tongue was familiar, a gentleman well-trained in the accomplishments of his time — all these Cynewulf seems to have been, withal participat- ing freely, as a youth, in the pleasures and excitements of a worldly life. He may have been the author of a series of one hundred riddles in verse, but this is doubt- ful. At least four ambitious works are identified by his own autograph as indisputably his. These are the Life of St. Juliana, the Fates of the Apostles, the Elene, and the Christ. In each of these poems, runes, ingeniously inserted in the text, spell out the poet's name. In addition to these known works, a Life of St. Guthlac, a similar one of Andreas, and a para- phrase of a Latin poem by Lactantius entitled The Phoenix are with several minor poems also attributed to Cynewulf. Of all these the Elene, the Christ, and the Phoenix are among the best productions of Anglo- Saxon poetry. Cynewulf had turned from his worldly life, had possibly become a monk ; at any rate had thrown his talent with all his heart and soul into the effort to exalt the Christian faith and to sing the glory of the Cross. In the Dream of the Rood, certainly the composition of this writer, is told the story of a vision somewhat like that of Csedmon, in which the dreamer sees the sacred tree, glittering now with gold and jewels, now stained with blood, and speaking of the precious fruit it had borne. The singer is bidden declare this sight to sinful men and to reveal both CYNEWULF'S VERSE 25 what has been and what shall be. The Elene narrates the story of Helena, mother of Constantine, and her finding of the true Cross. In the Christ we find three separate poems wherein Cynewulf describes the Advent, the Ascension, and the Day of Judgment. The follow- ing passage from the second section of this work, be- sides illustrating the style of Cynewulf's composition, will make clear the poet's use of runes by means of which he weaves his own name into the text. The words in capitals represent pretty closely the mean- ings which these single characters commonly represent. " Then shall the Courageous tremble ; he shall hear the King, the Ruler of Heaven, speak stern cynewulf's words unto those who in time past ill obeyed verse. Him on earth, while as yet they could easily find com- fort for their Yearning and their Need. There in that place shall many a one, weary and sore afraid, await what dire punishment He will mete out to them for their deeds. Gone is the Winsomeness of earth's adornments. Long ago the portion of Life's joys granted Us was compassed about by Lake-floods, our Fortune on the earth. Then shall our treasures burn in fire ; bright and swift shall the red flame rage ; fiercely shall it rush through the wide world. Plains shall perish, citadels fall. The fire shall be all astir ; pitilessly shall that greediest of spirits waste the ancient treasure which men held of old, whilst pride abode with them upon the earth." 1 Although too subjective to be classified as epics, the religious poems of Cynewulf are most characteristic as well as most impressive in those passages which intro- duce the themes of action. Highly suggestive are these lines from the Elene which describe the voyage of 1 From The Christ of Cynewulf, translated into English prose by C. H. Whitman (Ginn). 26 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD the queen and her company on their way to seek the Cross. True to his environment and the instincts of the Teuton, Cynewulf shares with the many unidenti- fied singers among- his people the Anglo-Saxon love of the sea, is familiar with the experiences of the mariner, and has caught the spirit and the tone of the resound- ing waves. " Gan with speed the crowd of earls Hasten to ship. The steeds of the sea 'Round the shore of the ocean ready were standing-, Cabled sea-horses, at rest on the water. Then plainly was known the voyage of the lady, When the welling of waves she sought with her folk. There many a proud one at Wendel-sea Stood on the shore. They severally hastened Over the mark-paths, hand after band, And then they loaded with battle-sarks, With shields and spears, with mail-clad warriors, With men and women, the steeds of the sea. Then they let o'er the billows the foamy ones go, The high wave-rushers. The hull oft received O'er the mingling of waters the blows of the waves. The sea resounded. Not since nor ere heard I On water-stream a lady lead, On ocean-street, a fairer force. There might he see, who that voyage beheld, Burst o'er the bath-way, the sea-wood, hasten 'Neath swelling sails, the sea-horse play, The wave-floater sail. The warriors were blithe, Courageous in mind ; queen joyed in her journey." 1 In addition to the manuscript of Beowulf already TheManu- mentioned, our principal source of acquaint- scripts. ance with Anglo-Saxon poetry is found in two famous collections, known respectively as the Exeter Book and the Vercelli Book. The first of these trea- sures has been in the library of the cathedral at Exeter since the time of Bishop Leofric (1046-73 ) ; the other was discovered in 1822 at the Monastery of Vercelli in 1 From the Elene, translated by J. M. Garnett (Giun), 11. 2-J.j-L'4T. BATTLE NARRATIVES 27 Italy by a German student. This latter volume con- tains the Andreas, the Elene, the Dream of the Rood, the Fates of the Aj)ostles (all supposed to be by Cyne- wulf), and two Addresses of the Sold to the Body. Twenty-two sermons are also included in this volume. The Exeter Book preserves the manuscripts (copies made in Leofric's time) of Cynewulf's Christ, Juliana, and St. Guthlac, also a second St. Guthlac by another monkish writer, the Phoenix, ascribed to Cynewulf, two shorter poems of great merit, the Wanderer and the Seafarer, Widsith, Deor^s Complaint, and several minor didactic poems, with a collection of metrical pro- verbs. One fragment of verse is of unique interest as presenting almost the sole example of anything like romantic sentiment in the whole body of Auglo-Saxon poetry. ' ' Dear the welcomed one To the Frisian wife, when the Floater 's drawn on shore, When his keel comes back, and her churl returns to home, Her's, her own food-giver. And she prays him in, Washes then his weedy coat, and new weeds puts on him, O lythe it is on land to him, whom his love constrains." 1 Of an entirely different order from the poetry just described are two stirring accounts of actual _ „, „ • • p iiT- Battle Nar- battles, incorporated in the Annals of Win- ratives in Chester, which belong in the important prose erse ' history known as the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. The first of these poems describes the Battle of Brunnan- burh in the year 937, when King -ZEthelstan, together with his brother Eadmund, " won life-long fame with the edges of swords " in battle with the Scots and Danes. The poem is especially rich in that vigorous imagery peculiar to the Anglo-Saxon gleeman when singing of conflict. • x Gnomic Verses, translated by Stopford A. Brooke, Early English Literature. 28 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD " The board-wall 1 they battered. The linden-wood 1 hewed, with leavings of hammers. The field was made fat With blood of brave warriors, after sun brightly rose At morning-tide, — that marvellous star, God's gleaming candle, over ground glided, — Until the Creator's noble creation Sank to his seat. . . . They left then behind them to hold horrid banquet That black- feathered bird, horny-beaked, The swart raven ; and the gray-coated robber, White-feathered behind, to feast on the carrion, The greedy war-hawk ; and that gray wanderer, The wolf in the wood." The poem consists of seventy-three lines ; its compan- ion piece, the Song of the Fight of Maldon, in the year 991, is a longer composition, and although incom- plete in the text preserved, numbers 325 lines as it stands. It recounts the story of the battle and the death of Byrhtnoth, an East Saxon ealdorman in the time of iEthelred " the Unready." While not all the extant productions of scop and Epic Frag- gleeman are recorded in this volume, there ments. are three important fragments which should be mentioned. These are Waldhere, The Fight at Fin- nesburg, and Judith. Of the first of these we have but a portion, sixty-two lines in length ; the manuscript apparently belongs to the eighth century, and is evi- dently a copy of a distinctly German epic known and sung by the English. The story of Finn and the de- struction of his stronghold is as truly an English epic as is the Beowulf itself ; indeed, the fragment of some fifty verses is supplemented by a narrative of a hun- dred lines introduced in Beowulf as the song of 1 By both these terms the shields are described ; the leavings of hammers are the swords, beaten into shape and tempered by the smith. ANGLO-SAXON PROSE — BEDE 29 Hrothgar's scop. Judith, of which three spirited can- tos are preserved, was one of the great epic composi- tions of our early literature. It has been unnecessarily attributed to Cynewulf, but belongs to a later genera- tion. It contains the apocryphal history of Judith and Holofernes. III. ANGLO-SAXON PROSE. The earliest monuments of our literature we have found to be in verse. This happens natu- verse pre- rally. In the first place, compositions which ^a Liter- 6 are to be preserved by tradition rather than ary Form, by letter, either printed or written, will be more easily retained and transmitted in metrical form. Secondly, in a society which honors the profession of the bai-d, the rhythm and ornament of verse are a welcome fea- ture of the recitation. But most important of all is the historical fact that in the childhood of any people, poetry is the more natural, almost the spontaneous form adopted by those who are moved to express thought or emotion with any effort toward artistic ef- fect. Such utterance comes in moments of exaltation, unpremeditated. In these moods men become poets in spite of themselves. Prose composition is a later and more labored development. The earliest Anglo-Saxon prose of any literary value seems to have been a single work of Bede 673 . the learned and pious Northumbrian monk, 735. Baeda, or Bede, to whose name the title of " Vener- able " was affectionately added by the pupil who cut the epitaph above his master's grave at Durham. Bede was born near Wearmouth, on the Durham coast. An orphan, seven years old, he entered the monastery of St. Peter's to study for the priesthood, and two or three years later removed to the associated monastery of St. 30 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD Paul's at Jarrow, close at hand. Here he remained for the rest of his life, devoted to his study and the composition of his numerous works in Latin. Jarrow possessed at this time one of the best libraries in Eu- rope, and Bede himself was famous over Christendom for his learning- and his books. Six hundred pupils listened to the instruction of this scholar and assisted him in his work. He wrote books on grammar, mathe- matics, and natural science, commentaries on the Scriptures, lives of the saints, church history, treatises on philosophy, and, besides other works, made metrical versions of the Psalms. " I wholly applied myself to the study of Scripture," says Bede, " and amidst the observance of regular discipline, and the daily care of singing- in the church, I always took delight in learn- ing, teaching, and writing." His most important work is the Historia Ecclesiastica, an ecclesiastical or church history of Britain. It is here that we find the account of Caednion and his dream. But the forty-odd Latin works of this pious scholar are not the occasion of so much interest as is the single text, unhappily lost, pro- duced by Bede in his own vernacular, — a translation of the Gosjjel of St. John. This was Bede's last work ; coincidently with its completion came his death. One of the brothers in the monastery, Cuthbert, rever- ently records the manner of the end. " He passed the day joyfully till the evening, when his scribe said, ' Dear master, there is yet one sentence not written.' He answered, ' Write quickly.' Soon after, the boy said, 'The sentence is now written.' He replied, 'It is well ; you have said the truth. It is ended.' And soon thereafter he breathed his last." In the time of Bede, and for a century thereafter, Scholarship Anglo-Saxon scholarship was preeminent in in England. ]/ lllo p e- The English monasteries were many KING ALFRED 31 of them famous for their libraries of manuscripts, and as resorts for scholastic training. Bede's Latin treat- ises were copied by hundreds, and were employed as text-books in the monastic schools of Italy and France. Alcuin, who accepted in 782 the invitation of Charle- magne to take charge of the Palace School, estab- lished by the great king of all the Franks, was first a studious monk in the school of the monastery at York, and then a noted teacher in that community. He was a pupil of Egbert, Archbishop of York, who had founded an excellent school at the suggestion of Bede himself, and like the venerable scholar of Jarrow en- tered the monastery in childhood perhaps under sim- ilar circumstances. The record of Alcuin's career places him in the period immediately following that of Bede, and the date of that great teacher's death, 735, has even been suggested as the probable date of Alcuin's birth. In the next century another English scholar, of either Welsh or Irish birth, John Scotus Eri- gena, occupied at the court of Charles the Bald a posi- tion similar to the one maintained by Alcuin at the court of Charlemagne. In the latter part of the ninth century began those formidable incursions of the Danes which Alfred, continued through several generations, the 848 " 901 - most grievous affliction ever visited upon the Anglo- Saxon kin. As they pillaged and harried the north country, learning and culture died or fled before them. Whitby and Jarrow, with the other monasteries of the north, were relentlessly destroyed, and the literary su- premacy of Northumberland was naturally at an end. Now, for almost the first time, the south kingdom of the Saxons finds a place in the records of our literature, and now the name of iElfred, or Alfred, " England's Comfort," " England's Darling," as he was lovingly 32 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD called by those who knew what he wrought, becomes prominently associated with the development of our English speech and the beginnings of our English prose. His courageous defense of his people against an almost irresistible onset, and the difficult achieve- ment of uniting a disordered folk into an actual nation, were perhaps the most conspicuous among his many services to his race ; the value of his labors in establish- ing and in reforming the Church should not be over- looked ; but in his wise and vigorous efforts to instruct his people, and to encourage learning throughout the land, Alfred revealed his sagacity as well as his great- ness of character. " I have often recalled," says Alfred in his preface His Love of to the translation of Gregory's Pastoral Learning. Care. " what learned men there were in En < ►J o CO o H P w E-" d .2 • <5 = o 3 -r -I, i. -= X si & -r f- = o> o e« I. r— ' fc ~ ►J W - w H / (3 44 ctf a> - - - - 6 _! : ~, ~ I ~- a a a, co STUDY SUGGESTIONS 39 Saxons is particularly useful as a study of life and man- ners. Ten Brink's History of English Literature, vol. i., Stop- ford Brooke's Early English Literature, also his English Literature from the Beginning to the Norman Conquest, and the first two volumes of Henry Morley's English Writ- ers, are authorities upon Anglo-Saxon literature. Beginnings of English Literature, by C. M. Lewis (Ginn), includes the period covered here. Numerous translations of Anglo-Saxon poetry are given by both Brooke and Morley. In the English Writers, vol. ii., are Widsith and the Seafarer, entire ; the Seafarer and the Wanderer are translated by Brooke in the Notes at the end of his volume. Beowulf is accessible in several versions, of which that by James M. Garnett (Ginn) is most faithful to the spirit of the original. Professor Garnett has translated also Cynewulf 's Elene and the fragment of Judith, together with Brunnanburh and Maldon, in one volume (Ginn). Tbe Christ is at hand in an excellent prose ren- dering by Charles H. Whitman (Ginn). Albert S. Cook's edition of Judith (Heath) contains a translation of that frag- ment. Tbe Battle of Brunnanburh, too, is found among the poems of Tennyson. There is an excellent volume of Select Translations from Old English Poetry, by Cook and Tinker (Ginn). Bede's account of the poet Caedmon, and Cuthbert's nar- rative of the death of Bede, also Alfred's preface to bis translation of Bede's Cura Pastoralis, will be found trans- lated, or paraphrased, by Morley in his English Writers, vol. ii. Wulfstan's narrative, incorporated by Alfred in his translation of Orosius, is also given by Morley. Bede's Ecclesiastical History and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle are published in translation by Bohn. A Life of Alfred the Great, by Thomas Hughes, is published by Houghton, Mifflin and Company. Students who wish to begin the study of Anglo-Saxon will find available text-books in Cook's First Book in Old Eng- lish (Ginn), Bright's Anglo-Saxon Reader (Holt), Sweet's 40 THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD Anglo-Saxon Primer, and Anglo-Saxon Reader (Clarendon Press). Smith's Old English Grammar and Exercise Book (Allyn & Bacon) is an excellent introduction to the study. A series of important texts is included in the Library of Anglo-Saxon Poetry, puhlished by Ginn : I. Beowulf, by Harrison and Sharp; II. Exodus and Daniel, by T. W. Hunt ; IV. Maldon and Brunnanburh, by C. L. Crow ; VI. Elene, by C. "VV. Kent. The Albion Series of Anglo-Saxon and Middle English Poetry is announced by the same house; Professor A. S. Cook's edition of the Christ has already appeared. The Judith, also edited by Cook, is published by Heath. Particular attention is directed to the Millennial Se- ries of English Classics (Section I. Old English Literature), now in preparation (Heath), Edward Miles Brown, general editor. The History of the English Language, by O. F. Emer- son (Macmillan), and T. R. Lounsbury's History of the English Language (Holt) are valuable books. For general study of words, Words and their Ways in English Speech, by Greenough and Kittredge (Macmillan), is recommended. The development of Anglo-Saxon literature may be traced as follows (of course only the most important names and titles are included) : — Historical Events. Period of Roman occupation (a.d. 78-410). Coming' of Ilengest and llorsa (449). Arrival of Augustine (597). Ecg-berht, King- of Wessex (802-39). Alfred (871-901). Danish kings (1010-42). Battle of Hastings (1066). Poetry. Widsith, Deor\ La- ment and Beowulf (previous to mi- gration). Ciedmon (about 664). Cynewulf (about 7--.0). Prose. Bede (673-735). Alfred (849-901). .Elfric (955- 1020). The Chronicle (871-1154). CHAPTER II THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD FROM THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS TO THE DEATH OP CHAUCER I. The New Invasion. II. The Development of Middle English Literature. III. The Age of Chaucer. IV. Geoffrey Chaucer : Poet of the Dawn. I. THE NEW INVASION. When, in 1066, William of Normandy led his vic- torious hosts against Harold and his Saxons TheNor- at Senlac near Hastings, a new epoch be- mans - gan in English history. The Normans, originally Teutons like the English themselves, were descendants of those Norse pirates, who, under Hrolf, at the be- ginning of the tenth century, had overrun the land on either side the mouth of the Seine, conquered that ter- ritory, and in the course of one hundred and fifty years developed the powerful duchy of Normandy. They were a bold, keen race, vigorous and aggressive, re- markable for their ability in assimilating the desirable qualities of the conquered people, and wonderfully suc- cessful in imparting their own energy to their new subjects. They adopted the modes and laws of the feudal system ; they accepted the Christian faith ; they were foremost in promoting the courtly rules and man- ners of chivalry ; they made themselves at home among the Franks, forgot their own Norse speech, and learned 42 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD the French tongue. The music and literature of France impressed them with its softer measures. At the great battle which gave England to William, Taillefer the Norman minstrel led the vanguard, tossing his sword in the air, and chanting loudly the song of Roland, the epic of the Franks. It was really a new race, combin- ing the characteristics of Teuton and Celt, which thus won its footing on English soil — the Norman-French ; it represented the best blood and the highest culture of Europe, and its influence in the literature of England, as well as in its life, proved an incalculable benefit in the generations to come. For a hundred years after the conquest of the island was actually completed, the lines between the conquerors and the conquered w r ere rather sharply drawn. There were two races, Norman and English; two languages side by. side. Yet the natural tendency was toward assimilation, and in the end the result was the same as it had been in France : the native tongue triumphed over that of the invader. The Norman-French became Anglo-Norman, and finally English. In 1350 the English language was used in the schools, and in 1362, by royal decree, Edward III. made it the official language for courts of law. But the English of that period had been wonderfully ex- panded and enriched by the elements it had absorbed from the Norman-French ; its vocabulary settled by the usage of Wyclif and Chaucer, its inflections gradu- ally i Modified if not absolutely lost, it thus became the basis of our modern speech. With reference to this epoch in the history of our language it is customary to designate as the Middle English Period the three centuries which intervened between the Conquest and the death of Chaucer, although throughout the twelfth century the literature produced was almost entirely in Latin or in Norman-French. I DEVELOPMENT OF MIDDLE ENGLISH 43 While in England the literary spirit had languished since the death of Alfred, it had flourished Lltera . with remarkable energy among the peoples of ture western Europe. In the romance dialects of meNor- northern and southern France, indeed, a new mans< literature had been created, a literature inspired by the institution of chivalry, and devoted to the glory of knighthood and the praise of love. The French trou- veres were just beginning to compose their Chansons de Gestes, or Songs of Deeds, in which were celebrated the achievements of national heroes like Charlemagne and Roland. Love songs and tales of adventure were finding their place in literature. That scholarshi .which had made the schools and abbeys of England fa mous in the day s of Bede and Alcuin, and had bee n ruthlessly blotted out in the harrying ot theDanes, had blossomed ao-a.jn in France, where Alcurtfliiniself h ad sowed the seed of learning at the court of Charle- magne . At the time of the Norman invasion French! monks were the leaders in all scholastic and ecclesias- tical learning ; for a generation before that event Eng- lish students had been flocking to France as the centre of European culture, and young English priests betook themselves to the great monastic school at Bee, to learn wisdom at the feet of Lanfranc and Anselm. \ II. THE DEVELOPMENT OF MIDDLE ENGLISH LITERA- TURE. The latter part of King William's life was occupied in completing the conquest which gave him his title in history. Here and there over the of Ro- land arose the massive, square Norman castles mance - of the barons. The monasteries were ruled by Nor- r.ian monks. Lanfranc was made Archbishop of Can- ^erbur}^ and at his death was succeeded by Anselm. \ 44 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD The literary works of ecclesiastics were in the Latin tongue, but the literature of France held its place at court and in the great halls of the barons. The English gleeman now gave place to the Norman minstrel, and tales of French heroes, sung in the foreign tongue, were heard in the banqueting halls of the nobles. Strange stories of Charlemagne and his twelve paladins, abound- ing in the reports of jousts and battles, of tricks and cunning ; the adventures of Grecian Alexander, too ; tales of the Trojan War ; and numerous other themes, many of them borrowed from the East, formed the subjects of trouvere and jongleur, and kept their places through long years to come. Very nearly related to/ / English scenes, and yet an importation from the poetry of France, were the traditionary romances of King Arthur and his Knights of the Table Round. The most important and indeed the immediate effect of this Norman-French influence upon our own English litera- ture was seen in the revival during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries of an interest in the deeds of Eng- lish heroes and the traditions native to English soil. This interest speedily manifested itself in the similar treatment of English themes by Norman poets in Nor- man-French, and a little later, a treatment of these themes in English speech ; for by that time the Eng- lish spirit and the English language had proved stronger than the Norman, and had prevailed. The deeds of Hereward the Saxon had been told in Latin, and then in Norman verse ; English minstrels now entertained the court. Similarly also, the adventures of Guy of War- wick and Bevis of Hampton, local heroes of tradition, were sung by Anglo-Norman poets, and then in the Eng- lish tongue. An important element of Norman-French poetry is found in the treatment of these English themes. This is the element of love. The old Saxons KING HORN 45 in their rude way had sung of battle and of beauty ; but while tales of adventure and daring had been told, never a word had been uttered of the tenderer passion of love ; there had been no recognition of woman's subtle power in the hearts and lives of men, until the Nor- man poets had introduced their forms of courtly gal- lantry, had sung the devotion of knight to lady, and had spoken of the rewards of love. Among the earliest of our English poems to reflect this influence of the French are the three metrical romances of Sir Tris- tram, Havelok the Dane, and King IIor?i l which ap- parently belong to the latter part of the thirteenth century. " Alle beonhi blithe That to mi song lithe ! A song ihc schal you singe Of Murry the kinge," is the quaint beginning of this last-named poem. Murry is king of South Daneland ; his queen is King Godhild ; they have an only son, whose name Horn - is Horn. One day the sea-robbers — Saracens, the poem calls them — descend upon King Murry' s shores, the king is slain, his queen driven into hiding, and Horn, his son, with twelve comrades is taken prisoner. But the rare beauty of the youths excites the pity of the pagan leader, and instead of putting them to the sword, their captors place the boys in a boat and set them adrift on the open sea. Miraculously the waves drive the ship to Westernesse, where King Ailmar adopts Horn and provides for his education. Horn grows in favor with all men, but most of all he is loved by the king's daughter, Maiden Rymenhild. Now the early comrades of the young prince are still in his company, and two of them are especially connected with the fate and fortunes of Childe Horn : one is Athulf , his trusty 16 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD friend ; the other Fikenhild, who is a traitor. By the treachery of this latter, Ailmar is deceived, and Horn is banished from the land. New adventures, new wan- derings follow ; at last Horn arrives in Ireland, and becomes King Thurston's man. For seven years he remains in Ireland a banished man, but always faith- ful to his love. Meanwhile King Modi of Reynes sues for the hand of Maiden Rymenhild ; Ailmar assents, and the wedding-day is set. Rymenhild and Athulf send a messenger to search for Horn and to warn him to re- turn. Horn is found in time, arrives in Westernesse on the day of the marriage, attends the feast disguised as a pilgrim, and in dramatic fashion expels the in- truder, and claims his own. But the course of true love does not yet run smoothly. Horn departs again, now to claim his rights in his home in Daneland. This he succeeds in doing, and discovers his mother, Queen Godhild, still alive. Again word comes from the bride in haste ; Rymenhild is once more in mortal peril, — this time at the hands of the traitor Fikenhild. Again Horn returns, rescues his betrothed, and all ends joyously with the wedding and a happy return to South Daneland, where Horn is king. The love story has now become an element in Eng- lish literature. It is the very kernel in the romance of King Horn, although oddly, as it seems to us, the heroine woos the hero, and Horn is far too passive a lover to suit the Rymenhilds of a later day. Along with these metrical romances, there were cir- FoikRo- dilating in popular form during the twelfth, mance. thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries numer- ous shorter works^rn both verse and prose. Collections of short stories, like the Gesta liomanorum and the Process, of the Seven Sages, were translated into Eng- lish. Short metrical tales were numerous, the best THE CHRONICLES 47 gradually appearing - in the early ballads, and reappear- ing again and again in versions slightly different, the almost mysterious creations of the nameless poets of the people. Truly, they who told the tales and sang the gestes of Robin Hood will never fail of recogni- tion, even though their names are lost in the dimness of obscurity. By far the most noteworthy of these early romances, however, are those which embalm th(i ^traditions and legends of King Arthur. The knightly exploits of Arthur's followers, the stories of courtly love and of lawless passion, mystical tales of adventure. in search of the Holy Grail, — these themes won all the greater interest and attention because they centred around a national hero who had found a home in Wales. Chretien d e Troyes and German Wolfram had likewise sung the Grail saga, but English sto xy.- tellers claimed, and have since claimed, blameless King Arthur as their ow n. Nearly akin to these metrical romances and epic nar- ratives were the rhyming chronicles of the Th0 twelfth and thirteenth centuries. As we have Chroni- seen, the great prose Chronicle commenced in Alfred's time was continued by monkish annalists down to the death of Stephen in 1154 ; but the compo- sitions of these later chroniclers were of an entirely different sort, and present a curious mingling of histor- ical record and romantic tradition. The story of their evolution is similar to that of the romances already de- scribed, and they developed coincidently with the latter. The most important of these works is Layamon's Brut, a long narrative poem of 32,000 lines, in the old allit- erative metre of Anglo-Saxon poetry, spirited and rugged, reminding one not a little of Csedmon's vigor- ous verse. Layamon was an English priest living in Worcestershire. " He dwelt at Earnley," he tells us, \ 48 THE ANCxLO-NORMAN PERIOD " a noble church on the bank of Severn, near Rad- stone, where he read books. It came in mind to him and in his chiefest thought that he would tell the noble deeds of England, what the men were named, and whence they came, who first had English land after the flood." Layamon's poem was written near the begin- ning of the thirteenth century ; but it was not alto- gether an original work. Among the books which this English priest had read at Earnley were the histories of Bede and Albinus, and one which was itself entitled Brut, composed in French verse by Wace, a Norman trouvere ; this poem Layamon translated, incorporat- ing it in his larger work. Wace in turn had appro- priated his material from still earlier tales which had been circulating in France ; but the original work to which both Layamon and Wace were most indebted ! was a so-called Historia Regum Britannice, or His- tory of the Kings of Britain, which was written in Latin prose by Geoffrey of Monmouth in 1147. In 1 this work Geoffrey assumes to give the history of Brit- \ ain from the time when Brutus, the great-grandson of Aeneas, landed on its shores and gave his name to the island kingdom which he founded. Geoffrey was a Welsh priest at the court of Henry I., and died Bishop of St. Asaph in 1154. The remarkable imagination of this author provoked the ire of other chroniclers, who declared that he had " lied saucily and shamelessly ; " but along with its fictions the " history " preserved many ancient Welsh traditions, which Geoffrey may have believed. At all events, he gave to the world a wonderful story book, from which have passed into lit- erature such characters as Locrine and Gorbuduc, King Arthur, Cymbeline, and Lear. Thus, then, do we trace the fortunes of this work : Geoffrey com pleted h is His - tory in Latin in 1147, Wace produced iiis French" [ SIR JOHN MANDEVILLE 49 version of the F jrv* iri 11t;t Vi OT H in 1205. or thereabout, Layamon incorporated the work of his predecessor in "~ his own great English poem. The significance of its title is now obvious ; it is the epic of Brutus and his successors in the land. Layamon's work is of consid- erable importance. Here is a true English poet draw- ing his material from Norman and Celt, celebrating the deeds not of Englishmen, but of Britons, appropriating their glory for the glory of England, and tacitly ac- cepting conditions as they are. The poem is purely English"; few French words are found in its 32,000 lines. It is the best product of English poetry since Cynewulf's time, and properly represents the transition period between the old and the new. About 1300 Robert of Gloucester wrote a rhymed ■ Chronicle, based on the works of his predecessors, and covering the field of English history from the time of Brutus down to the reign of Edward I. And a few years later Robert Manning of Brunne wrote such another chronicle, based on translations of Wace and a metrical history recently composed by Peter Langtoft, a French monk. Along with the works of the romantic chroniclers of the fourteenth century may very well be sir John placed the curious volume of travels ascribed Mande- to the authorship of Sir John Mandeville. ages and The reputed author of the book declares that Travels> he set out on his travels on Michaelmas Day, 1322. He claims to have been more than thirty years abroad, and describes the lands, their peoples and customs with all the realism of an eye-witness. He tells us that he first wrote his account in Latin, that he then turned it into French, and then again, in 1356, into English. These statements have in time been disproved. The work may indeed have been a collection of traveler's / 50 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD tales, thus brought together and unified by the author, who seems to have been as credulous or fully as im- aginative a writer as Geoffrey of Monmouth. At all events, " Sir John " produced the most entertaining of narratives. Fascinating indeed these travels must have been to the readers of the time, for of no book, with the exception of the Scriptures, can more manu- scripts be found dating from the fourteenth and the beginning of the fifteenth centuries. According to Mandeville's account, Jerusalem is in the exact middle of the earth, " as may be proved and shown there by a spear which is fixed in the earth at the hour of mid- day, when it is equinoctial, which gives no shadow on any side." In Egypt he hears of that bird called the Phoenix, of which there is but one in the world. " It comes to burn itself on the altar of the temple at the end of five hundred years, for so long it lives ; and then the priests array their altar, and put thereon spices, and sulphur, and other things that will burn quickly, and the Phoenix comes and burns itself to ashes. The next day they find in the ashes a worm ; and the second day after they find a bird, alive and perfect ; and the third day it flies away. This bird is often seen flying in those countries. It is somewhat larger than an eagle, and has a crest of feathers on its head greater than that of a peacock ; its neck is yellow, its beak blue, and its wings of a purple color, and the tail is yellow and red." Most marvelous of all are the adventures of our trav- eler in the realm of Prester John, the great emperor of India. Here are giants twenty-eight or thirty feet in length who eat men's flesh; evil women who have precious stones in their eyes with which they slay men by a look. In the kingdom of Cathay he discovers a people who have but one eye, which is in the mid- dle of the forehead ; another who have no heads, but V r / wijiyji^t' fcjtctff turn ^M ecuza.n-]triir J . ingLitera- rale, or Moral Ode, a rhyming poem, found in a collection of homilies which date from the year 1160. 2 The Ode is itself a homily in which 1 The Voyages and Travels of Sir John Mandeville is to be had. edited by Henry Morley, in CasseWs National Library, for ten cents. ' 2 The beginning of the poem is as follows : — " Icli em elder than ich wes a wintre and alore ; Ie wselde more thanne ic dude ; mi wit ah to ben more ! Wei lance ic habbe child ibeon a weorde end ech adede ; Theh ic beo awintre eald, to yyng i eom a rede." It may be rendered thus : — " I am older than I was, in winters and in lore; I \\ ield more power than I did ; my wit ought to be more ! Too long 1 have been but a child in word and eke in doing ; Yet though 1 am in winters old, too young I am in choosing." MORALIZING LITERATURE 53 the unknown sermonizer admonishes his reader to lay up treasures in heaven. Its quaint verses, with their pronounced accentuation and regularly recurring end- rhymes, an innovation borrowed from French poetry, seem to have been very popular, as numerous copies of the poem are extant. The thirteenth and fourteenth centuries produced many examples of this moralizing literature. The so-called Sayings of Alfred were com- piled apparently about 1200. Orm, or Ormin, wrote the religious poem which he called the Ormulum in the first quarter of the thirteenth century. Like the Moral Ode, Orm's poem pleads for the religious life, and in plain, blunt English terms applies the lessons of the daily service of the Church. It was a work of prodigious length, for the 10,000 lines which have come down to us represent but a tenth part of the en- tire poem. Orm was of Danish descent, and lived in that part of England which had been occupied by the Danes. His language was the dialect of the Midland, and shows no trace of Norman influence. Unlike the author of the Ode, Orm does not use end-rhyme. A curious feature of his work is the fact that he marked the quantity of the vowels by doubling the consonants after short vowels, a feature of considerable value to the linguist. The first line of his preface is thus writ- ten : — " Thiss boc is nemmned Ormulum forrthi thatt Orm itt wrohhte." " This book is named Ormulum because Orm wrought it." The Ancren Riwle, or Mule of the Anchoresses, which belongs to the same period with the Ormulum, is a prose work compiled by some unknown writer for the guidance of three young women in Dorsetshire, who had retired from the world and entered on the life of the cloister. It is in the southern dialect, and is inter- 54 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD esting not alone for its devout naturalness and genuine Christian spirit, but also for its mingling of English with Norman words ; it is a good example of the transition period in southern England. The later Genesis and Exodus is a religious poem belonging in the middle of this same century. This religious literature continued to flourish through- out the fourteenth century. The titles of some of the more important works will in themselves be sufficiently significant. Many of these works have their genesis in the ecclesiastical literature of the Normans. Thus in 1303 Kobert Manning of Brunne translated a French poem under the title of Ilandlyng Synne ; and in 1340 a prose work appeared with the singu- lar title Ayenbite of Imvyt, which would have more meaning for us if we were to retranslate it by words of French rather than of Saxon origin ; the Ayen- bite of Imvyt is but the Remorse of Conscience lit- erally expressed in the native tongue. This work was in prose, but about the same year Richard Rolle of Hampole wrote in Latin, and in Northumbrian Eng- lish for the unlearned, a poem called the Pricke of Conscience. Of some importance also is the Cursor Mundi, a metrical version of the Old and New Testa- ment, which dates from about 1320. As we reach the latter part of the fourteenth cen- TheReii- tury, we ^ 11( ^ ourselves practically at the end giousRevt- of what might be called the transition period, Fourteenth which naturally follows the mingling of the Century. Normans and the English. Jfosidp thp ri-vnio of ( x hnnpp r t.hrpp names of prominenc f mppt nnr eye: those of Langland, "NVyclif, and Gower . The first two are inseparably connected with the literature of religion, although their work is distinct from that of the ecclesiastics who had preceded them. It is PIERS THE PLOWMAN 55 necessary to remember that at the beginning of the thirteenth century the life of the English Church had receired an extraordinary impulse through the ap- pearance of the mendicant friars who entered in the train of the Normans. They were for the most part men of devoted life, educated in French schools, and exerting an influence that was generally wholesome and helpful. But as time passed on and the religious orders acquired wealth, their religious life degenerated, until by the middle of the fourteenth century they had grown hypocritical as well as proud. Their influence became pernicious and a source of evil in society. In this same period the condition of the common people had been rendered intolerable by the results of war and by the visitations of plague. In 1349 the Black Death had swept through the kingdom. Entire dis- tricts had been depopulated. In their wretchedness and their discontent, it was natural that sober-minded men of the common class should turn to religion for relief. Then it was that that singular character, Wil- liam Langland, with his tall, gaunt figure, with his contempt for pride and wealth, appeared in London. In 1362 Langland first wrote his Vision of Piers the Plox&man. This was an allegory or dream, _. & J ' Piers the which the poet declares came to him while Piow- asleep one May morning by the side of a brook among the Malvern Hills. In his vision Piers finds "a fair field full of folk" of all manner of men, poor and rich together. Some are sweating at the plough, others wasting inordinately their substance in gluttony and lust. He beholds the Tower of Truth, and also the Dungeon of Falsehood ; typical characters drawn from the life with which he was familiar, repre- senting various classes whose shortcomings he wished to rebuke, are introduced by Langland with a vigorous 56 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD force that gives impressiveness to his work. While the spirit and tone of the Vision are serious and severe, the extraordinary vividness of his portraits, his keen insight into the ways of men, the zeal and passion of the poet, give to Langland's work a real distinction in the literature of the time. The poem itself is extremely interesting in its metrical structure. It is in the Midland dialect and stands forth as the last ex- ample of the old alliterative verse in English poetry. There are no end-rhymes. The diction is like that of Chaucer. 1 Langland was a reformer, and he devoted the last years of his life to the amplification of his Vision. In 1393 he added the poems Do Wei, Do Bet, and Do Best. Long Will, as his contemporaries called him, died at Bristol probably in the year 1400. While Langland's Vision was stirring the hearts . . t „ and consciences of the common people of John Wye- . . ill, 1324- England, there was already in preparation a work destined to surpass all other books of its time in its influence for good and its effect upon the development of our literary English. This was Wyclif's great translation of the Bible. While the dreamer of the Vision of Piers the Plowman was but a humble unordained servant of the Church, John Wyclif was a prominent figure in ecclesiastical and scholastic circles. A graduate of Oxford, he received the degree of Doctor of Divinity, and became Master of Balliol College in that University. Aroused and indignant at the open corruption of those who assumed 1 Langland's method of versification may be seen from the following lines which form the beginning of his poem : — " In a somer seson whan soft was thp sonne I sliopp ' me in Bhroudes 5 as 1 a shepe 1 were, In habit as an heremite unholy oi wi'i-kes Went wyde in this world wondres to here." > Clad. 2 Garments. » Shepherd. JOHN WYCLIF 57 to represent the Church, Wyclif's soul was set on fire with the ardor, and some of the fanaticism, of the re- former ; even before his degree had been conferred, he had in his Objections to Friars sounded a note which was but the prelude to his vigorous, fearless career. In 1375 he was sent with the authority of Government to Bruges to protest against the encroachments of papal power ; but three years later, having disputed the doctrine of transubstantiation and other teachings of the Church, he was summoned before an ecclesias- tical court in London to answer charges of heresy. Then came other attacks ; still Wyclif continued to preach and to write against the evil deeds of the friars, and also against certain dogmas of Rome. The seed of his sowing speedily bore fruit. Disciples and ad- herents of the reformer repeated his words and ex- tended his influence. In 1374 he had been presented to the living of Lutterworth in Leicestershire, and at Lutterworth he preached and wrote, although he con- tinued as lecturer at the University till silenced in 1381. Enemies attempted to suppress him ; the pope issued bulls demanding his arrest. Only his popular- ity with the masses, and the firm friendship of a few powerful nobles, saved Wyclif from imprisonment, if not from death. In 1384 he was summoned by Pope Urban to answer to charges at Rome ; but in that same year the defiant reformer was stricken with paral- ysis while celebrating mass in his Lutterworth church, and two days later died. Forty years after his death the spirit of fanatical hate found expression in an act of impotent vengeance upon Wyclif's remains : the coffin was broken open, his bones were burned, and the ashes cast into the waters of the Swift, whence, as Thomas Fuller said in his Church History, " the brook conveyed them to the Avon, Avon into Severn, 58 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD Severn into the narrow seas, they into the main ocean ; and thus the ashes of Wyclif are the emblem of his doctrine, which now has dispersed all the world over." Distinguished as a pioneer in the English Reforma- tion, Wyclif holds his place in literature because he made the first translation of the entire Bible into Ens-- lish. The whole of the New Testament and a consid- erable portion of the Old Testament he himself trans- lated from the Latin Vulgate ; the remainder of the work was done under his direction. It was a book which had as much influence in fixing: the form of our language as did the work of Chaucer. The plain yet impressive diction of this translator may be recognized in the following passage : — " But in o day of the woke ful eerli thei caraen to the grave, and broughten swete smelling spices that thei hadden araved. And thei founden the stoon turnyd awey fro the graue. And thei geden in and foundun not the bodi of the Lord Jhesus. And it was don, the while thei weren astonyed in thought of this thing, lo twe men stodun bisidis hem in schyn- yng cloth. And whanne thei dredden and bowiden her sem- blaunt into erthe, thei seiden to hem, what seeken ye him that lyueth with deede men? He is not here : but he is risun : baue ye minde how he spak to you whanne he was yit in Golilee, and seide, for it behouetb niannes sone to be bitakun into the hondis of synf ul men : and to be crucifyed : and the thridde day to rise agen ? " Little is known of the personality of the man who JohnOower, was Chaucer's principal literary contempo- 1325-1408. rary, and whom he mentions as the " moral Gower." This writer was apparently a native of Kent ; he was a man of wealth, and while a secular poet like Chaucer, he must have been a serious student of the times and impressed with the grave conditions then existing in society and politics. He is remem- THE AGE OF CHAUCER 59 bered as the author of three important works. The Spe- culum Meditantis, or the Mirror of One Meditating, was written in French. His second work, the Vox Clamantis, or the Voice of One Crying, is a Latin poem in hexameter and pentameter verse ; it was composed just after the rebellion under Wat Tyler and Jack Straw in 1381, and pictures the condition of society and moralizes on its ills. Gower's third production is the Confessio Amantis, or the Lover s Confession ; this is in Eng- lish, and is a poetical collection of tales bound to- gether by a story-thread in the style of Boccaccio's Decameron and of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. It seems to have been written about 1385. Although a studious and industrious writer, John Gower was not a model story-teller ; his tales are too dull to hold the interest of present-day readers, and by the side of Chaucer he occupies an inferior place. III. THE AGE OF CHAUCER. The beginnings of English literature as we have traced them seem to belong to the shadow-land of a dim past. The makers of that early literature are often nameless, and the personality of many whose names are known is vaguely indistinct. It is as though we saw men only through the mists of a gray, chill twilight before the dawn. In the latter half of the fourteenth century, however, there comes a burst of sunlight that brightens and warms every reader's heart. Men move in a visible and a familiar world ; they speak in hearty English tones. We know them for our kinsfolk, although the modulations and the accent strike somewhat strangely on our ears. There is the song of lark and throstle. The breath of an English May is in the atmosphere. It is the age of Geoffrey Chaucer, — 60 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD ..." Poet of the dawn, who wrote The Canterbury Tales, and his old age Made beautiful with song ; and as I read 1 hear the crowing cock, I hear the note Of lark and linnet, and from every page Rise odors of plowed field or flowery mead." l The England of Chaucer's day was the England of Chaucer's Edward III., of Richard II., and of Henry England. jy j/he great Duke of Lancaster, John of Gaunt, was himself the poet's patron and protector. It was a confused but eventful epoch in English history, a period of foreign war and civil strife. When Geof- frey Chaucer was a boy of five or six, the English won the historic victory of Crecy ; ten years later he was old enough to shout with the rest over the news of Poictiers, and to join in the tumult of triumph when the Black Prince led his pikesmen and his archers through the crowded London streets, with the king of France, a royal prisoner, riding at his side. At nine- teen Chaucer was himself a soldier, fighting on French soil in maintenance of Edward's claim to France. The commotions which attended the rise of the Lancastrians affected directly the fortunes of the poet, and the ac- cession of John of Gaunt's son to the throne occurred a twelvemonth before Chaucer's death. In appearance England was still medieval. The age of chivalry was in its very flower. The knight, attended by esquire and yeomen, rode abroad, engaged in crusade or on private quarrel, fought the pagans of the Orient, or contended in the lists with knights of other nations for the glory of his own. Rural England was gradually developing. Manor houses, with all the barns and buildings of a fertile, prosperous countryside, are more typical of this age than the heavy threatening towers and ramparts of 1 Longfellow's sonnet, Chaucer. LUXURY AND EXTRAVAGANCE 61 the northern castles, now gray with time. In these more peaceful abodes of the well-to-do franklins, or free landholders, — the gentry of a later day, — was dispensed a hospitality as abundant as it was rude. Along the highways moved a picturesque procession, typical of English life : chapmen or peddlers, dickering with perhaps a ploughman, or with some village girl or gossip more curious for news than wares ; merchants riding busily, somewhat wrapped in thoughts of trade ; soldiers, farm hands, mendicant friars, officers of the law, minstrels, pilgrims, — wayfarers of varying rank and class. And men in buckram suits, or Kendal green, harbored in the tracts of forest wilderness, or slunk behind the thickets at the roadside ; it was safer to travel in company than alone. In the world of trade the merchant-companies, or guilds, such as the merchant-tailors, the fish- Luxury mongers, or the goldsmiths' companies, en- ^ Ex_ joyed a prestige and privilege which made gance. them a political as well as a commercial power. Un- der Edward III. they received the right to elect mem- bers to Parliament. Wealthy merchants lent large sums of money to the king. English travelers, not only those engaged in trade, or dispatched on official errands, but sightseers, pilgrims, pleasure seekers, were found in every country of Europe ; they observed closely and intelligently, and became conversant with the customs and literatures of foreign lands. Often they imitated or imported the luxuries enjoyed abroad. Edward III. played chess on a board of jasper and crystal silver-mounted. He gave his daughter Mar- garet a wedding present of 2000 pearls, and to his mistress, Alice Perrers, 20,000 large pearls in a single gift. Fine gothic structures rise : splendid tapestries adorn 62 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD the walls of the rich : beautiful windows of stained glass admit the light. The newer houses of the wealthy now have chimneys. Singular dishes are concocted for the luxurious taste of the time. Hens and rabbits are prepared chopped together with almonds, raisins, sugar, ginger, herbs, onions, rice-flour — the whole colored with saffron. Peacocks are roasted and served in their own plumage. Along with this extravagance of table there are incongruities in etiquette, and an absence of many simple conveniences, indispensable to-day, that impress us, perhaps unduly, with the uncouth crudities of the age. Forks are not yet invented ; one holds his meat with his left hand and carves with his right. We find one particular cook commended because he does not scratch his head or wipe his plates with his tongue. There is an extreme frankness in habits and in speech on the part of both women and men. What to us ap- pears grossly out of place to both eye and ear is in many cases tolerated without a thought. On the whole the position of woman is not altogether enviable. Moreover, there were many contrasts and some strong Evils oi shadows in English life during Edward's bril- Time. ]i an t ant j extravagant reign. The Church had fallen on evil times ; its corruption was notorious even among the people themselves. Already, in the protests of Langland and the threatenings of Wyclif, the spirit of the Information had begun to speak, but the fullness of time had not yet come. The great abbeys supported a luxury no less extravagant than that of the castle. The sensual, ease-loving monks, the shrewd and con- scienceless priests, the pardoners with their gross im- postures, the friars pertinaciously begging their vaga- bond way over England — these classes furnished types which were deemed fairly representative of the time, and which appealed to others than Chaucer as the bane LONDON 63 of rich and poor alike. Happily, now and then was found some poor parish priest, benignant, humble, de- voted to his flock, versed in the spirit as in the letter of the Word, forgetful of his own needs in errands of mercy, himself a safe example to the sheep, following faithfully the precepts that he taught, a veritable shep- herd and no hireling. Among the common people were many troublous signs. There was a great gulf between rich and poor, who had little in common except the air they breathed. But that air was English air, and when the abuse of power became too gross, or the callous indifference of the one class to the woes of the other intolerable, there were outbreaks and revolts. Wat the Tyler was a day laborer, yet the rebellion he headed in 1381 threw the entire south of England into the turmoil of war. The commons were beginning to feel their strength and to clamor for rights. London was a populous and busy city — then, as now, the heart of England's life. Upon the broad surface of the Thames floated ships from the Mediterranean and the Baltic, some of them laden with the silks and spices of the East. Wharves and warehouses are piled with English products, wool, skins, cloth, metals, butter, and cheese, — consignments to Germany and Russia, to France and Spain. Ship- men and customs officers, merchants and exchangers, tradesmen, carters, travelers, men with foreign faces, mingle in confused activity. The river is the main thoroughfare as well for rowboats and barges, which convey business men and pleasure parties from point to point. Near one extreme of the town is Westminster ; near the eastern limit rises the historic Tower. St. Paul's, a gothic structure, stands between the two, not far from the riverside and near the approach to Lon- 64 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD don bridge, which, all overhung with shops and houses, affords communication with the Surrey side of the Thames. A continuous throng of citizens and stran- gers pass and repass on this famous bridge. Southwark is on the southern bank, where are most of the places of amusement and resort. Here stood the noted Tab- ard Inn, " faste by the belle." Beyond the suburb lay green fields and open meadowland, over which wound the country highways through Surrey and Kent. Yon- der the road to Canterbury might be traced. On the side of London away from the Thames, the city was protected by its medieval wall, pierced here and there by gates, through which visitors entered and left the town. Above these gates were heavy bastions, and in one of these somewhat sombre towers Geoffrey Chaucer was lodged for about twelve years. The streets of London were narrow and dirty beyond belief. The centre of the roadway was a running sewer ; pigs wal- lowed in the mire, notwithstanding an earlier law which read, " And whoso will keep a pig, let him keep it in his own house." Such, in part, was the capital city of P^ngland in the fourteenth century, and such, allowing for increased population, it remained for a hundred years. IV. GEOFFREY CHAUCER: 1340(?)-1400. Geoffrey Chaucer was born in London about 1340. His father, John Chaucer, was a wine mer- chant in Thames Street. He had been pur- veyor to the household of Edward III., and was evi- dently in excellent standing as a citizen, obtaining for lu's son a position much coveted for a youth in that age, — an appointment as page in the royal household. It is in this connection that we first hear of Geoffrey Chaucer, a youth of seventeen, attached to the family CHAUCER'S EARLY WORKS 65 of Prince Lionel, Duke of Clarence, in the immediate service of Elizabeth his wife. Here the boy received his first glimpse of the life at court, his first lessons in courtly fashions and behavior. He waited on his mis- tress, did her errands, assisted in the table service, was taught music and the languages, associated with youths of a station more exalted than his own, and grew fa- miliar with the habits and behavior of men of rank and note. In the fall of 1359 Edward invaded France, and Geoffrey Chaucer had some part in that campaign, falling as a prisoner into the hands of the French. In the following March he was ransomed, the king con- tributing sixteen pounds to the necessary sum. From this time on Chaucer appears to have been attached to the court, and is referred to in the records of 1367 as valet to the king, with a salary of twenty pounds. He was already married to Philippa, lady-in-waiting to the queen. It must not be supposed that during these years, from seventeen to twenty-seven or thirty, the scholar's tastes and instincts had been stinted. That he was ever a student of books and a lover of nature is clear enough from the literary material of which Chau- cer was master ; and this was the budding time of his genius. Chaucer had already found the power to express himself in rhyme, although, as we should ex- Early pect, it is in the conventional form of the only Works - literature with which the young poet was then ac- quainted, the French. Three poems are extant which belong apparently to this first period : Chaucer's A. B. C, a prayer to the Virgin Mary, freely trans- lated from the French of a Cistercian monk, and taking its title from the fact that its twenty-three stanzas be- gin consecutively with the various letters of the alpha- bet in order ; The Compleynte to Pite, a love poem. GG THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD melodious and graceful, though in the conventional manner of French love poems of the day ; and The IJethe of Blaunche the Uuchesse, a poem of 1334 lines, in honor of Blanche, wife of John of Gaunt. As this lady died in 13G9, this elegy is assigned to that same year. Besides these poems, Chaucer composed also many songs and ballads, with which, according to John Gower, " the land ful filled was, over all." It is also true that Chaucer had made a translation of the most popular French poem of that age, a long allegory of love entitled Le Roman de la Rose. The English version of this work, known as The Romaunt of the Rose, although attributed to Chaucer for many years, is not regarded as his. Between the years 1370 and 1385 the poet's life was Thes - rather that of a man of action than that of a ondPe- man of letters, and yet coincidently with the discharge of important public duties, Chaucer was introduced to a new world of art and culture, un- der the inspiration of which he accomplished his finest work. In December, 1372, he was sent by the king to the cities of Genoa and Florence on an important mis- sion pertaining to commercial relations between those cities and London. He was absent on this errand about three months, returning to England in April, 1373. Precisely what Chaucer did in Italy at this time is all unknown to us, but we may well imagine the delight with which he looked on the beautiful works about him. Pisa was already famous for its marvelous tower of creamy marble, while in Florence, Giotto had completed the slender campanile now called by his name. -lust where Chaucer walked or rode, with whom he conversed, and whom he went to see, we know not ; but Francis Petrarch, the laureate of Italy, was still ITALIAN INFLUENCES 67 alive, and could be visited in his country retreat near Padua. Boccaccio was already famous as the author of romances and tales which were to gather new fame in the hands of this English poet. In the fall of that very year, 1373, Boccaccio was to commence in Flor- ence a series of public lectures on the Divine Comedy of Dante, the great world-poet of medievalism, who had died some fifty years before. Thus did Chaucer enter Italy, that country which was foremost in the great awakening of thought and life, which we call the Renas- infiu- cence, or new birth of cultui-e, the real begin- ning of the modern world. The impressions of this visit, undoubtedly profound, were intensified by a sec- ond journey in 1378, when Chaucer was intrusted by young King Richard with a mission to Milan, occupy- ing some three months, as before. Chaucer was now an extremely busy man, with small leisure for literary work. In 1374 he was appointed comptroller of the customs and subsidies on wools, skins, and tanned hides, in the port of London, it being explicitly stated that the du- ties of this office should be performed by the comp- troller in person, and not by deputy. The death of Edward, and the accession of the boy -king, Richard II., occurred in June, 1377. In 1382 Chaucer received a new appointment to the office of comptroller of the petty customs, which he held in addition to his first collectorship. In 1385 he was granted permission to employ a deputy, an arrangement which afforded mucl relief. In spite of the laborious days, these years of the poet's life were by no means unproductive or unimpor tant. Very early in this period, perhaps, belongs a prose version of the famous medieval essay by Boethius (died 525 a. d.), De Consolatiojie Philosophies, first \ 68 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD translated into Anglo-Saxon by King Alfred. It io unlikely that Chaucer wrote much during the inter- val between the two Italian journeys, but shortly after the second visit he produced what, next to The Canter- bury Tales, is the poet's greatest success. This is the Troilus and Criseyde, a love romance based upon a much longer poem, 11 Filostrato, or Love's Victim, by Boccaccio. Chaucer's poem contains over 8000 lines, and not more than a third of the whole is to be recog- nized as borrowed from its original. In this work the poet first reveals that wonderful story-telling power which has made him famous among all makers of imagi- native literature. Troilvs and Criseyde contains in great degree the spirit of the modern novel. Love and love's fickleness is the theme, and the characters of Troilus, Criseyde, and the wily, coarse-natured Pandar are developed with the finest art. Thus does the poem begin : — " The double sorowe of Troilus to tellen That was the Kinge Priamus' sone of Troye, In lovyng how hise aventures fellen From wo to welle, and after out of joye, My purpos is, er that I parte fro ye Thesiphone, thou help me for tendyte ! This woful vers, that wepen as I wryte ! " Besides this metrical romance, the most important poems of Chaucer's second period are two alle- Aiiego- gories : The Parlement of Foules, or As- sembly of Birds, and The Hous of Fame. The first has a political significance and celebrates the wooing of Anne of Bohemia in 1382 by the poet's master, Richard II. The other poem was a much longer work. It is somewhat in the spirit of Dante, and recounts the poet's visit, in his dream, to the glit- tering hall of Fame, whither a great golden eagle car- ries him. Here upon a mountain of ice are carved THE THIRD PERIOD 69 the illustrious names of every age ; only those of the ancient world are best preserved, since they are graven on the shady side. The house of Rumor. is also visited, but its description is incomplete. In this brief per- sonal touch, the poet permits a glimpse of himself. He represents Jove's Eagle addressing him thus : — " Not of thy verray neyghebores, That dwellen almost at thy dores, Thou herest neither that ne this ; For whan thy labour doon al is, Thou gost hoom to thy hous anon, And, also domhe as any stoon, Thou sittest at another hoke, Til fully daswed is thy loke, And livest thus as an hermyte." 1 The Hous of Fame was finished in 1384. The last period of Chaucer's life falls in the troubled times which perplexed his contemporary The Third Gower, and inspired the last grim visions of Period - Langland, — the years which justified the forebodings and rebukes of Wyclif. Although in 1386 the poet took his seat in Parliament as Knight of the shire for Kent, his fortunes quickly turned. In that same year, through a combination of the nobles, Richard was com- pelled to transfer his authority to a regency controlled by the Duke of Gloucester. 2 John of Gaunt was absent temporarily from the kingdom, and the party with which Chaucer was identified lost completely for the time its prestige. The poet found no favor with those who now assumed the power. His offices and privileges were taken from him, and he fell even into penury. His misfortunes were aggravated by the death of his wife Philippa in 1387. A brief period of prosperity 1 Book ii. 140. 2 Of this and subsequent events, a vivid picture is given in Shake- speare's historical drama of Richard II. 70 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD came in 1389, but Chaucer was again in distress shortly after. In 1391 he was entirely dependent upon the generosity of his old patron, John of Gaunt. The spirit of the poet was altered ; not that he grew morose, but that naturally enough a sober melancholy crept into his verse. The chastening of his own ex- perience affected, not unwholesomely, the tone of his compositions. A good illustration of his changing mood is seen in the serious short poem, Fie fro tlu Pres : — " Fie fro the pres and thvelle with soth fastnesse ; Suffice the thy good though hit he sniale ; For horde hath hate and clymhyng' tikelnesse, Pres hath envye and wele is hlent over alle ; Savour no more than the behove shalle, Reule wel thyself that other folk canst rede, And trouthe the shall delyver, hit ys no drede. That the ys sent recyve in huxumnesse, The wrastlynge of this world asketh a fall ; Her is no home, her is but wyldernesse. Forth, pilgrime ! Forth, best, out of thy stalle ! Look up on bye and thonke God of alle ; Weyve thy luste and let thy gost the lede, And trouthe the shall delyver, hit ys no drede ! " In The Legende of Goode Women, a poem of 2500 lines and incomplete, Chaucer now found heart to write in praise of woman's faithful love. But this last period of the poet's life is made mem- orable by the creation of his crowning work. It is as the author of The Canterbury Tales that we best know Geoffrey Chaucer ; and this great work stands forth as the undisputed masterpiece of English litera- ture throughout the entire Middle English Period. The composition of portions of this work occupied the poet at different periods, but the definite plan of the masterpiece as a whole belongs to the last ten or twelve years of his life. THE CANTERBURY TALES 71 The idea of such an arrangement of entertaining narratives as Chaucer here brings together T j. eCan . may have been suggested by the Decame- terbury ron of the Italian Boccaccio, with which it seems highly probable that the English poet was famil- iar. Boccaccio's device to secure an artificial unity for his series of detached stories is comparatively simple. He presents, in a lovely villa amid the cypresses and olive trees on the hillside overlooking Florence, a gay party of ten lords and ladies who have fled the city be- cause of the plague. They are bound to introduce no news from without that is not agreeable. They seat themselves in the delightful shade of the grove, and re- late to each other the tales which pleasantly enable them to forget the awful suffering of the afflicted city. The English poet is peculiarly happy in the artifice which provides the machinery of his plan. He hits upon a characteristic incident of English life, — the passage of a company of pilgrims to the shrine of St. Thomas a Becket at Canterbury ; an occurrence, not infrequent, that permitted the picturesque grouping of many na- tional types that meet us in The Canterbury Tales. The most familiar portion of Chaucer's works is the famous Prologue, in which the poet so happily de- scribes his party and accounts for his own presence in the group. These 850 lines, setting forth the intention of the book and vividly presenting the nine and twenty pilgrims, one by one, is a masterpiece of literature, and the best example left us of our first great poet's genial insight into character, and his superb power in portray- ing human nature realistically. The personages that figured in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales passed imme- diately into literary immortality, and more than one skillful painter has transferred Chaucer's unmistak- able portraits to his canvas. But one thing must be 72 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD emphasized : the Tales are to be regarded as parts of a natural and unified, even if not a completed, work. Whether a part of the original purpose or not, The Canterbury Tales as a whole present a vivid picture of English life and character in Chaucer's day. Thanks to the skillful grouping, the use of the " links " that introduce the several tales, and the bits of dialogue which intervene, suggesting coincidently the progress of the pilgrims and the movement of the narrative — above all to the dramatic skill which fits so appropri- ately to character and rank the quality of the stories told — we have here a series of subtle portraits of English men and tvomen as Chaucer knew them and interpreted their lives to us. Unfortunately the poet did not finish his work. The plan provided that each pilgrim should recount two stories on the way to Can- terbury and two returning ; but the narrative is broken before the company reaches its destination, and only twenty-four tales are told. The last year of Chaucer's life saw a brief better- Chaucer's ment of the fortunes which had proved so Death. variable. Henry Bolingbroke ascended the throne as King Henry IV. in September, 1399. To him the poet addressed his humorous but pathetic Com- pleynt to his Purs. A pension of forty pounds was settled upon him at once, and Chaucer leased a house in Westminster in December of that year. But hardly a twelvemonth of life remained to him. He died Octo- ber 25, 1400, and was the first of the poets to be laid in that historic corner of the Abbey which has been consecrated by their remains. Thus the life and work of Geoffrey Chaucer are Apprecia- complete. A lover of books and a careful Chancer. reader of all the literatures then existing, he was no less a lover of nature in all her forms. The APPRECIATION OF CHAUCER 73 outside world was full of charm to him, and his con- fession is prettily recorded in terms familiar to all readers of his works : — " And as for me, tho that I konne but lyte, On bokes for to rede I me delyte And in myn herte have hem in reverence And to hem give I f eyth and full credence So hertely that ther is game noon That fro my bokes maketh me to goon, But yt be seldom on the holy day, Save certeynly, whan that the moneth of May Is comen, and that I here the foules singe And that the floures gynnen for to springe — Farewel my boke, and my devocioun ! " * The student who knows Chaucer only in his Prologue will hardly appreciate this poet's ability to describe the various phases of nature's loveliness. Thus does the sun rise on Palamon and Arcite : — " The bisy larke, messager of day, Salueth in hir song the morwe gray ; And fiery Phebus riseth up so brighte, That al the orient laugheth of the lighte, And with his stremes dryeth in the greves The silver droppes hangyng on the leves." 2 Again the bright hues of nature, the fresh coolness of the atmosphere, the abounding life of bough and brook, are figured forth in these smoothly flowing lines : — " A gardyn saw I ful of blospemy bowys Upon a river in a grene mede, There as ther swetnesse everemore i-now is ; With flouris white, blewe, and yelwe, and rede, And colde welle-stremys, no-thyng dede, That swemyn ful of smale fishes lite, With fynnys rede and skalys sylvyr bryghte, On every bow the bryddis herde I synge With voys of aungel in here armonye." 3 1 The Legende of Goode Women, Prologue, 11. 30-39. Compare the lines following, also the poet's description of the daisy, 11. 171-207. 2 The Knight 's Tale, 11. 633-638. 8 The Parlement of Foules, 11. 183-191. 74 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD But above all to be noted in a study of Chaucer is the unfailing insight and genial charity with which he surveys and understands his fellow men. Their weak- nesses and frailties provoke a mild rebuke ; but even in his chiding, Chaucer smiles, and the world is con- strained to smile sympathetically with him. His grave contemporary, Langland, utterly devoid of humor, — that saving sense of every age, — looks sourly forth on this same world, and straightway puts on sackcloth in a sort of vicarious penitence for its sins. Chaucer plainly loves his fellows and the world he lives in ; that which is sent he is able " to receyve in buxum- nesse," and thanks God for all. And his life, as we remember, with all its cheery brightness, had its full measure of disappointment and care. Wholesome and kindly, the first of English writers to portray real- istically the life and manners of a time, there is no more companionable author in all our literature than Chaucer. The struggle for usage between the French of the Norman conquerors and the native speech of the Sax- ons had virtually come to an end before Chaucer began to write. It was in 13G2 that English was again offi- cially recognized, and Henry IV. took his oath in 1399, " in the name of Fadir, Son and Holy Gost," the first of English kings since William's time to thus employ on that occasion the native Saxon tongue. But at the middle of the fourteenth century, the language was still an uncertain, rude, confusing mixture of dialect forms, unwieldy and uncouth in the hands of those who aimed at literary style. Chaucer's usage was a revelation to his contemporaries, and although neither they nor his immediate successors were ever able to manipulate its material with the grace and force of the master, his hall-mark, nevertheless, was set upon the literary SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 75 diction of the kingdom, and his service in the choice and molding of its phraseology cannot easily be over- drawn. 1 Of complete editions, that edited by W. W. Skeat (Ox ford, 1894, 7 vols.) is authoritative. The Poeti- sugges- cal Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, edited by Arthur ^ons lor Gilman (Houghton, Mifflin and Company, Bos- Chaucer, ton, 1880, 3 vols.), is conveniently arranged, and Texts, lias an excellent introduction upon "The Times and the Poet." The Globe Chaucer, edited by Alfred W. Pollard (Macmillan, 1898), contains the complete text in a single volume. There are numerous editions of the Prologue, with, and without, one or more of the Tales. Those published by the Clarendon Press are among the best known. The stu- dent cannot do better than supply himself with the scholarly edition, by Frank Jewett Mather, Jr., of the Prologue, The Knight 's Tale, and The Nun's Priest 's Tale (Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1899). Two valuable works especially useful in presenting the social conditions of the age are English Wayfar- chauc9r's ing Life in the XlVth Century and A Liter- Times. ary History of the English People (Putnam, 1895), both by J. J. Jusserand. See also Wright's History of Do- mestic Manners and Sentiments in England during the Middle Ages and Browne's Chaucer's England. Sidney Lanier's Boy's Froissart may well be read. The essay on Chaucer, by J. R. Lowell, in My Study Windows, or vol. iv. of Lowell's Works (Hough- Biography, ton, Mifflin and Company), is one of the best Criticism, appreciations of the English poet ever written. Ward's Chaucer, in the English Men of Letters Series, is a con- venient brief biography ; still more condensed is the Chau- cer by A. W. Pollard in English Literature Primer Series (Macmillan). The chapters on Chaucer in vol. ii. of Ten Brink's English Literature (English translation, Holt) is 1 Compare on this point, J. R. Lowell, My Study Windows, p. 257. 76 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD especially commended. Vol. iv. of Morley's English Wri- ters also is full of valuable material for the study of the poet. A voluminous work in Chaucer criticism is to be found in Lounsbury's Studies in Chaucer (Harper, 1892, 3 vols.). The Canterbury Tales, by Saunders, is full of very interesting comment. But above all, let the pupil be careful to read his Chaucer itself as the real subject of his study, always remembering that it is the author, and not the commentator, that he desires to know. Any single one of the authorities mentioned may prove sufficient for his purpose now. Let Shakespeare's Richard II. and King Henry IV. be included. The natural beginning for a study of Chaucer's work is the The Pro- familiar Prologue to the Canterbury Tales. Sup< logue. p 0se that the student, having become acquainted with the text of its 850 lines, first make a classification of the characters thus introduced. He will find representatives of the Chivalry of Chaucer's time, of the Church, the Pro- fessions, the Gentry, of Commerce and Trade. Let him note the breadth of representation thus secured and consider the several classes in their types. Which of the individual characters are most favorably presented ? Point out some ironical touches in the portraitures. What is Chaucer's in- tent in lines 183, 251, 395, 438, 444, 648, 708 ? Find illus- trations of Chaucer's humor : what do you think of its quality ? Examine some of the descriptions which present the characters unfavorably. Is the poet severe in his cen- sure ? What is his method of suggesting our disapproval ? If you are familiar with Langland's Vision of Piers Plow- man, compare the methods of these two poets. Do you find in the Prologue any traces of Chaucer's love of nature as set forth in poetical comparisons ? Note lines 170, 268 : what similar comparisons do you find in the description of the Shipman, and elsewhere, particularly in the first eighteen verses of the poem. Now turning more directly to the text, notice some of these details : what is the precise date of the pilgrimage, as set forth in poetical language ? Compare lines 12-14 with SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 77 the Wife of Bath's wanderings, lines 463-466. Where was Southwark, and where Cantei-bury ? What was the signifi- cance of the name Tabard, given to the inn ? The company of pilgrims is recorded as " Wei nyne and twenty : " do you find this to he exact ? What do you think of Chaucer's " setting " of his poem as compared with Boccaccio in the Decameron ? It is impossible to suggest here a detailed study of the text, but the student should notice carefully some points in the language and vocabulary. For instance, licour, vertu, engendred, flour, are French words developed out of Latin forms : see how many words of similar origin are to be found in the first forty lines. Compare what Lowell says in his essay (My Study Windows, p. 257) upon Chaucer's diction. Holt and heeth, fowles, halwes, are of Teutonic origin ; make a list of similar Saxon words in the same forty lines, and note especially those that have changed in form or usage since Chaucer's time. What is the precise meaning of sorages (line 11) and corage (line 22), couthe (line 14) ? compare with can (line 210) and coude (line 467), and else- where. In what form does modern English retain this original meaning of the verb ? Explain the use of aventure (line 25), forward (line 33). What other word besides hos- telrye (line 23) does the poet use for inn ? Compare their etymology. Is Chaucer's Knyght to be taken as representing universally the chivalry of his day ? What opportunities had the poet had to observe the character of knight and squire ? How far had this Knyght traveled according to account ? What is meant by the term vileinye (line 70), gentil (line 72) ? From the description of the Squyer, what seem to have been the duties of his rank ? Does the account of his accomplish- ments indicate a frivolous character ? How did the Yeman come to know so much of woodcraft ? Are you acquainted with Scott's picture of Locksley, the forester, in Ivanhoe? In these three portraits note some of the lines which are par- ticularly effective in picturesque quality : e. g. lines 89, 109. Try to discover Chaucer's remarkable gift in portraiture, so 78 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD brief, yet so effective. What seems to be Chaucer's feeling toward the Prioresse ? Her name is recorded : what other of the pilgrims are referred to thus personally ? Compare the account of her table manners with the extract, in Skeat's edition of the Prologue, from a contemporary book on eti- quette. See how much of suggestive description is contained in lines 151-162. It would be interesting to make a special study of the costuming of these pilgrims ; the poet gives many details. What ornaments, for example, are worn by the various characters ? From Chaucer's portraiture of the Monk and the Frere what should be our estimate of the classes thus represented ? Pick out suggestive passages that indicate their character, — some that are especially good in setting forth their personal appearance. Study the origin and force of the following words : venerye (line 166), chapel (line 173), cloistre (line 181), wood (line 184), pricasour (line 189), in good poynt (line 200), palfrey (line 207), overal (line 216), penaunce (line 223), tappestere (line 241), beggestere (line 242), poraille (line 247), povre (line 260). In the way already suggested, study the remaining por- traits ; numerous lines for side-study will appear. The guilds, the ordres foure, the practice of medicine, the Par- doner 's tricks, the recipes suggested by the Cook — com- ments upon these topics will be found in many of the texts. Words like catel (line 373), purchas (line 256), achat (line 571), ounces (line 677), persoun (line 478), viage(\ine 723), avis (line 786), Withsaye (line 805), should be carefully examined ; indeed a close dependence upon a glossary is absolutely essential to an intelligent reading of the poem : too many pupils lazily guess at the meaning of Chaucer's words. There is no opportunity in these suggestions to refer to pronunciation or to grammatical forms ; these matters must be studied with other aids, and will be found discussed in editions like that of Mather, already recommended. When these points are more or less familiar, some portions of the Prologue may be learned by heart and repeated often aloud. Effective passages may be selected anywhere, but SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 79 the student should certainly commit the first twenty-seven lines of the poem, and parts, if not all, of Chaucer's descrip- tion of the Oxford clerk and the " poore Persoun of a toun." These are special gems. In proceeding with the study of this tale, remember that Chaucer appears now in a role slightly different Knight's from that assumed in the Prologue. Here we Tale - have the story-teller in actual fact, and it must be ours to appreciate the quality of the narrative as such, and to note the marks that make this narrative essentially Chaucerian. The tale itself is not original with Chaucer ; the basis of it is found in a romance by Boccaccio, but the treatment of motive, incident, and character is practically Chaucer's. A clear comparison between the English romance and the Italian story is to be found in Mather's introduction, pp. lxi.-lxxiii. As we read, it will be natural to notice the entire appropriateness of ascribing this tale to the Knight, whose character, given in the prologue, is so consistent with the dignified and chivalric tone of the story. The characters of Theseus and Hypolita are met with elsewhere in English literature : are you acquainted with Shakespeare's poetical drama, A Midsummer Night 's Dream ? In studying this narrative, note where the introduction ends and the real story of Palamon and Arcite begins ; but in the introductory section notice the effective points in the account of the " Companye of ladies, tweye and tweye, Ech after other, clad in clothes Make," with their piteous cry and the quick response — " This gentil duk down from his courser sterte With herte pitous, whan he herde hem speke," and in description of the war on Thebes, beginning (line 117) " The rede statue of Mars with spere and targe, So shyneth in his white baner large, That alle tho feeldes glitteren up and doun," etc. Having reached the account of the finding Arcite and Pala- mon among the wounded, and their subsequent captivity. 80 THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD what seems to he the prime motive of the story that would naturally develop out of such a situation ? Note in order the successive incidents that supply the narrative. Do these in- cidents occur naturally, or do they seem artificial ? With this in mind study carefully the account of the cousins' discovery of Emily in the garden ; their sentiments, as each expresses the effect of her beauty, and their subsequent quarrel (lines 204-328). In the same way study the description of Emily (lines 175-197). Find other portions of narrative and de- scriptive writing in the poem, and point out special excel- lences or, what seem to you, defects. Note the forceful portraiture of Emetrius and Lygurge (lines 1270-1330). In your own words describe the general appearance of the lists, of which the poet furnishes such full details. Now write the story of the tournament as recounted in the poem. Characterize the narrative of Arcite's death and funeral: how are you impressed by the account ? Show the general fitness of the outcome in the light of Palamon and Arcite's prayers and vows before the encounter. Do you suppose that this appropriate issue of events just happens, or is this singular fulfillment of the prodigies only an evidence of a careful art which foresaw the coincidence before it came ? Point out any artistic details of this sort that you discover. What do you think of the portrait of King Theseus himself, — do you find "characterization " sufficient to outline a real personality ? Tell what sort of a man he was. What can you say for Emily, the heroine, — is her portraiture distinct ? Cite some passages that show the poet's love for nature and enjoyment of natural phenomena. Compare the descrip- tion of the sunrise (lines 633-G38), and numerous single verses scattered through the poem. Here and there one comes on lines which seem to express the poet's own thought, — that give a glimpse of Chaucer's heart. For example, the sentiment (line 903), " For pitie renneth soone in gentil herte," is a favorite with the poet ; he uses it thrice elsewhere. A bit of experience is involved in the couplet (lines 1589- 1590) SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 81 " As sooth is sayd, elde hath greet avautage, In elde is both wisdom and usage." Somewhat humorously expressed is the truth (lines 1901- 1902) " And certeinly, ther nature wol nat wirche Farewel, physik ! go her the man to chirche." The Knight's tale receives no further introduction than that afforded by the last thirteen verses of the t^uu^-. Prologue ; inasmuch as the Nun's Priest is not Priest's formally presented in the Prologue, receiving a e " scanty mention as one of Preestes thre in the retinue of the Prioress, it may be interesting to read the link-word which follows on conclusion of the Monk's tale and formally begins that of the Nonne Preest (lines 8420-8432) — " This sweete preest, this goodly man, Sir John." For a full account of the sources of this tale, see Mather's introduction. It is hardly necessary to suggest material for study in this admirable story of The Cok and Hen. The mock seriousness of this domestic epic is delightful. Chaun- tecleer and Pertelote are genuine " characters " in every sense of the word, and by no means confined in their peregrina- tions to this poure ividive's barnyard. Here is an excellent example of the poet's humor, pervasive and yet well in hand, to be read appreciatively and enjoyed. The development of English literature during the Anglo- Norman period is as follows : — The Rulers. WUliam I. (1066-87). Stephen (1135-54). Edward III. (1327-77). RicViard II. (1377-99). Romances. Norman-French Romance. Anglo-Norman Romance. King Horn (13th century). Mandeville's Tra- vels (1356). Troilus and Cri- seyde (1380 ?). Confessio Amantis (1385). Canterbury Tales (1400). Chronicles. Anglo-Saxon Chro- nicle (to 1154). Wace's Brut (1155). Layamon's Brut (1205). Robert of Glouces- ter's Chronicle (1300?). (English was legal- ly recognized in 1362.) Moralizing Verse. Poema Morale (1160). Ormulum (1225?). Piers Plowman (1362). (Wyclif 's Bible was completed about 1382.) CHAPTER III THE FIFTEENTH AND SIXTEENTH CENTURIES FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE I. The Fifteenth Century: The Renascence. II. The First Half of the Sixteenth Century: From the Accession of Henry VIII. (1509) to the Accession of Elizabeth (1558). III. Representative Prose and Verse in the Elizabethan Age. IV. The Development of the English Drama. V. William Shakespeare and his Successors. I. THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY : THE RENASCENCE. The century immediately following that of Chaucer and his contemporaries is apparently one of the most unproductive in the history of English literature. It is to be recognized, however, as a time of preparation, and not without its important achievements. The fifteenth century was the century of the " new The Re- birth," or renascence, of learning and art in nascence. the life of the modern world. It was a period of invention and discovery, producing results which were momentous in subsequent history. New ideas poured in upon men's minds and gr? of $50 frecfr ana? Ibe? ibae j? fiuigQf 3tn&? of manfcoo? *ac6eo2 9? **3# nought £6et§ettb tbae pe tic#* metg maij 2tn&? offit fbuff>et to pfegcn fc fcgo'n QtnJ>? foaB of myttfc a.mongz ot§et H^ngce M)0ai) tyat ibe fciote mafc out teflenpngMJ JE)« fago? tfjue nolb fosogngee tteuCg $>e fe to merigf)* IbeDcomcfttfPp ;ffoi 6p mp frotbt§e gf 3 fftrt no* Cg« £J (alb not tffee 8«t (0 mcrp a tompanpc FACSIMILE OF A PAGE FROM CAXTON S SECOND EDITION OF CHAUCER'S CANTERBURY TALES, PRINTED ABOUT 1484 (The text reproduced includes lines 747-764 of the Prologue, describing the Host and his hospitable welcome to the pilgrims gathered about his table. The artist did not succeed in introducing the entire company of nine and twenty guests who sat down together at the Tabard, but we have no difficulty in recognizing the worthy Knight and his son at tl>e right of the Host, and Madame Eglentine, the lady Prior- ess, at his left. Next to the young Squire, with face turned more directly to the front, sits Chaucer himself.) 86 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE rocky soil, just as the English rhymers of a contempo- rary or an earlier time had rehearsed the deeds of Eng- lish champions. But James I. was one of the earliest representatives of the land of Burns and Scott to grace our literature with the beauty and sweetness of genu- ine song. In 1405 James, who was then a boy of only eleven King years, became a state prisoner at the English James i.. cour t. From that time till his release in 1394- 1437. 1424 he remained in England, enjoying every privilege save that of freedom, and cultivating his love of music and of verse. While confined at Windsor Castle he saw from his window, one May morning, the beautiful daughter of the Duke of Som- erset walking in the castle garden ; and the love of the royal youth for this lady inspired The Kyyige's Quhair (quire, book). This poem, consisting of 197 seven-line stanzas, is full of the influence of Chaucer and Gower, whose disciple James frankly avowed himself to be. From the king's use of this particular stanza form, it has since been called " rhyme royal ; " it has held a dis- tinguished place in the compositions of some later poets. Again, at the close of the century there were in Scot- land two poets of considerable imaginative and ' power and artistic skill whose work reflects Douglas. the spirit of this eraj although the best of it appeared after 1500. These were William Dunbar, author of The Thistle and the Hose (1503) and The Golden Targe (1508) ; and Gavin Douglas, who wrote The Palace of Honor (1501) and translated Ovid and Vergil (1513). Of English versifiers there were in the first half of English the century two whose names are usually re- Poetry. corded : John Lydgate and Thomas Occleve, unskillful imitators of Geoffrey Chaucer. In the latter JOHN SKELTON 87 half of this period also lived Stephen Hawes, author of a long, laborious allegory, The Pastime, of Pleasure. More noteworthy than the labored writings of these men are the rough rhymes and blunt wit of John Skelton, whose life extended over the first quarter of the sixteenth century, and whose verse forms a sig- nificant link between the old poetry and the new. A clergyman by profession, Skelton was endowed with a rough and ready wit which expressed joim itself with both coarseness and vigor. He f£go° n ' studied at the two great universities and re- 1529 - ceived the purely academic honor of laureate from each. His scholarship was such that he was appointed tutor to the young prince, afterward King Henry VIII. The greater part of Skelton's verse consists of a rude jingle more indicative of ready wit than of poetic fire. He was better as a satirist than in any other role, and in that vein composed his Bowge [Pewards] of Courte, Colyn Cloute, and Why Come Ye not to Courte ? He directed his satires against corruption in Church and State, and even dared a vigorous attack on the powerful Wolsey, whose anger the poet escaped only by taking sanctuary at Westminster, where he died in 1529. Of his various effusions Skelton himself declares : — " Though my ryme be ragged Tattered and jagged, Rudely rain-beaten, Rust and moth-eaten, If ye take well therewith, It hath in it some pith." Perhaps this is the best that can be said for Skelton's poetry, although there are among his efforts a few com- positions that show real poetic merit. A distinct literary product of the fifteenth century, by far the most impressive illustration of genuine 88 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE poetic power that it produced, is the voluminous col- The lection of Scotch and Border Ballads, the Ballads. greater part of which seem to have had their origin during this period. Folk poetry in the truest sense, these ballads represent the work of unknown authors. Their material is that which naturally im- presses itself on the popular mind : stirring chronicles of war, the pathetic and the romantic incidents of man's common experience, the mysterious occurrences that imply a supernatural source. The treatment is invariably simple and naive, while the very artlessness of the narrative appeals with unusual force to the imagi- nation and emotions of the reader. Of one of the most famous ballads, Chevy Chase, Sir Philip Sidney de- clared that its recital moved his heart more than a trumpet. Familiar among these ballads, at least by name, are those Lytell Gestes of Robin Hood which relate the bold deeds of that " good outlaw " of Sher- wood, and of his comrades, Little John and Friar Tuck. The pathetic songs of The Two Children in the Wood, Patient Grissel, and The Nutbrowne Maid, belong to another interesting class of these folk poems, while the weird ballads of The Twa Corbies and The Cruel Sister illustrate another. A famous collection of these ballads was brought to- gether by Bishop Percy, and published in 1765 under the title of Percy's Iieliques of Ancient English Po- etry. Sir Walter Scott, who was irresistibly attracted toward such material, gathered a similar collection, published in 1802, as Minstrelsy of the Scottish Bor- der. An exhaustive study of these ballads is found in Professor Child's English and Scottish Popidar Bal- lads. 1 1 See also English and Scottish Popular Ballads (edited from the edition of F. J. Child), 1 vol., by Helen C. Sargent and George SIR THOMAS MORE 89 II. THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. To the Accession of Elizabeth, 1558. However sluggish its development through the pe- riod just considered, in the time of Henry VIII. (1509- 47) English literature took a new start. In both prose and verse the spirit of the Renascence is clearly seen, and it is not difficult to trace the forces which reached their climax in the creations of the Elizabethan age. The impulse of the New Learning is especially distinct in the prose of Sir Thomas More, William Tyndale, and Roger Ascham. The development of modern Eng- lish verse is found in the poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt and Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. Among the scholars who gave distinction intellec- tually to the reign of Henry VIII., there is Slr none better known for integrity as well as wis- Thomas dom than Sir Thomas More, the author of i4 8 o- Utopia. More was born in London in 1480. 1B36 - He studied law, but was fonder of his Greek texts than of his legal practice. Nevertheless he advanced rapidly at court, and on the death of Wolsey was ap- pointed Lord High Chancellor by the king. But the troublous years of Henry's reign soon followed ; and in the midst of events which caused the wreck of many a career, Sir Thomas More fell a victim to his religious convictions, and paid with his life the penalty of oppos- ing Henry's will. More's Life of Edward V. (1513 ; printed 1557) is the first essay in careful history that we possess. His Utopia (written in Latin, and printed at Louvain in 1516 ; translated into English by Ralph Robinson in 1551) is one of our earliest studies in the field of L. Kittredge (Houghton, Mifflin & Co.), and Gummere's Old English Ballads (Ginn). 90 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE \ social science. The narrative tells of a wonderful coun- try, the State of Nowhere, — a land where religion is left to the individual conscience, and war is considered an evil ; where citizens study the problems of labor and crime, and seek how to promote the interests of public health, education, and comfort. The Utopia was a direct product of the New Learning, and was in- stinct with the genius of common sense. Dream though it was, much of its theory has worked its way into the constitution of modern England ; and the book has in- spired many imitators in this field. Another industrious scholar, exactly contemporane- wniiam ous with More, but one who, in the struggle i490^ 18 ' attendant on the Reformation, was enrolled 1536. upon the Protestant side, was William Tyn- dale. Tyndale was a second Wyclif. Early in life he avowed his sympathy with Luther and his followers, declaring his purpose to make it possible for every English ploughboy to know the Scriptures well. His translation of the New Testament was made in Ant- werp and was printed in 1525. The rapid circulation of Tyndale's version through Europe and England roused bitter opposition from the adherents of the pope, — an opposition in which Sir Thomas More was con- spicuous, — and the reformer was compelled to find asylums in various lands. In these retreats he contin- ued his translation of the Old Testament ; but while his work was still fragmentary, Tyndale was betrayed to his enemies ; after imprisonment for about two years, he was strangled at the stake, and his body was burned. It was Tyndale's version, made complete by additions from the work of Miles Coverdale, Bishop of English Exeter, — who, in 1535, published the first printed translation of the entire Bible, — that formed the basis of the revised translation which ap- THE ENGLISH BIBLE 91 peared under Archbishop Cranmer's sanction in 1540, — usually called Cranmers Bible, or, from its size, The Great Bible. v Thus the work begun in the quiet rec- tory at Lutterworth by John Wyclif, first of English reformers, proceeded under conditions sometimes hos- tile, sometimes friendly. The history of the English Bible is indeed full of intense dramatic interest, for in the record of our literature no other book has held such intimate relation to the very lives and hearts of the English people. There are memories of old translators followed in death by the savage bitterness of persecu- tion which in life they had escaped ; of the rummag- ing of students' chambers, the official search through the mansions of the rich, and the humbler homes of peasants and mechanics, to find the sacred copies which had been proscribed ; pictures of bonfires in the church- yard of Saint Paul's, with Wolsey sternly looking on, magnificently dressed in the purple and scarlet of his ceremonial robes, while in the midst of a great crowd, some jeering though others wept, the confiscated Bibles were emptied from huge baskets upon the flames. Yet fifteen years later, still in Henry's time, Bibles were, by royal order, placed in the churches of England, and readers appointed who read in loud, clear tones to the thousands that came at stated times to hear the word of God. The famous Geneva Bible, beloved by the Puritans, in the preparation of which Miles Coverdale, an exile in his old age, had assisted, was published in 1560 ; and several translations less noted were in use during Elizabeth's reign. It was, however, in the time of her successor that the Authorized, or King James, version was produced. In its preparation fifty of the most prominent scholars were engaged. At Cambridge, at Oxford, and at Westminster, they worked in groups, and met at intervals to compare and criticise their work. 92 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE The labor of translation was finished in three years, and in 1G11 the Bible was published with an address to the king. Again the work of Tyndale was practi- cally the foundation upon which these new translators built, and it is thus to this early reformer that we are in- debted largely for the splendid diction of that version of the Scriptures which is still in common use, and which more than any other book has inspired the style of our best English prose. A particularly attractive figure among the scholarly Englishmen of this time was Roger Ascham, Ascham, generally known as the tutor of the Lady Jane Grey and of the Princess, afterward Queen, Elizabeth. Dependent upon friendly assistance in securing an education, Ascham took his bachelor's degree at Cambridge in 1531, and became a fellow of the University in the following year. The young stu- dent was soon recognized as an ardent enthusiast for the New Learning, and his room became the resort for many who came to hear him read and explain the Greek. But Roger Ascham was more than a book- worm ; like Geoffrey Chaucer he was willing to drop his book and his devotion for the relaxation and exer- cise of the open air ; and when the king returned from a campaign in France in 1545, Ascham presented to him a work on archery entitled ToxophiluSy in which, following the method of dialogue, he sets forth the ad- vantages of this exercise to England, morally as well as physically, and because of the importance of arch- ery at that period, for purposes of national defence. Pleased with the essay, Henry bestowed upon its au- thor a pension of ten pounds. In 1563, during a conversation with several gentle- men of note, some expression of his opinion on the sub- ject of education led to the writing of Ascham's School' ROGER ASCHAM 93 master, — a work which reveals a wise sympathy with the minds to be taught and trained. Ascham's personality must have been as amiable as it was studious. Tactful and genial, he held the confi- dence of four sovereigns, some of whom were not noted for their constancy. He was rewarded by Henry, and honored by Edward ; though a Protestant, and never suspected of undue subserviency in the matter of reli- gious conviction, he was retained by Mary in the posi- tion of Latin Secretary, to which he had been appointed previous to her reign ; and under Elizabeth he contin- ued in that responsible office. Ascham has been described as a great Greek scholar : his position as Latin Secretary for many years attests his proficiency in that language also ; but it is as a writer of English, remarkable for its many excellencies of style, that this author is to be remembered now. The following passage from Toxophilus, very near the close of the second book, will serve to illustrate the quality of Ascham's composition, and may be taken as a good example of the best sixteenth-century prose : — " For having a man's eye always on his mark, is the only way to shoot straight ; yea, and I suppose, so ready and easy a way, if it be learned in youth, and confirmed with use, that a man shall never miss therein. . . . Some men wonder why, in casting a man's eye at the mark, the hand should go straight : surely if he considered the nature of a man's eye, he would not wonder at it : for this I am certain of, that no servant to his master, no child to his father, is so obedient, as every joint and piece of the body is to do whatsoever the eye bids. The eye is the guide, the ruler, and the succorer of all the other parts. The hand, the foot, and other members, dare do nothing without the eye, as doth appear on the night and dark corners. The eye is the very tongue wherewith wit and reason doth speak to 94 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE every part of the body, and the wit doth not so soon signify a thing by the eye, as every part is ready to follow, or rather prevent [anticipate] the bidding of the eye." Under the impulse of the various influences now so The New active, poetry began in the time of Henry Poetry. VIII. to respond to the spirit of the Renas- cence, and to assume the form and manner that we associate with modern English verse. We find the actual beginnings in the work of Wyatt and Surrey, whose names are appropriately joined in common re- ference. Although Surrey was some fifteen years younger than Wyatt, the two were brought together by friendship, as well as by a common taste for letters, and the younger poet followed the elder to some extent as his disciple in the new art. Both were strongly in- fluenced by contact with Italian literature, and both adopted the models of Italian verse. Wyatt introduced the sonnet, and Surrey was the first of English poets to use blank verse. The history of both men is closely involved with that of the period in which they lived, and their work is charged with the spirit of that ro- mantic time. Wyatt was a native of Kent. His education he re- sir ceived at Cambridge, where he took the mas- wyatt 88 ters degree in 1520. Introduced at court by 1503-42. hi s father, who had enjoyed the favor of Henry VII. and continued to hold responsible relations to the court of his successor, young Thomas Wyatt received early recognition from Henry VIII. In 1520 he was in the suite of Sir Thomas Cheney, a member of the privy council dispatched on a mission to the king of France ; in the next year he joined the com- pany of Sir John Russell, special ambassador to Rome, and with that nobleman traveled in Italy. At various times Wyatt was employed thus upon the king's busi- SIR THOMAS WYATT 95 ness, and for two years served as resident ambassador at the court of Charles V. in Spain. Such intercourse made Wyatt perfectly familiar with the best literature of his age, and the natural influence of such contact is seen in his verse. Wyatt's fortunes suffered now and then, as did those of most men who held prominent place at Henry's court ; he was at least twice a pris- oner in the Tower, once in serious peril of his life, but rather because of jealous enemies than of his sovereign's displeasure. All these experiences of the uncertain tenure of high estate are echoed in Wyatt's more seri- ous verse. But the king's favor stood the courtier-poet in good stead ; the final illness which resulted in his death was contracted while upon a mission of honor attending the reception of royal guests. Wyatt was a maker of verse all his life. In his early poems there is more of rough rhyming than of melody ; but he did compose some charming measures, as, for example, in one lyric often quoted : — " Blame not my Lute ! for he must sound Of this or that as liketh me ; For lack of wit the Lute is hound To give such tunes as pleaseth me ; Though my songs be somewhat strange, And speak such words as touch thy change, Blame not my Lute ! " In great variety of rhyme and metre Sir Thomas ex- perimented with the possibilities of our English versifi- cation, incidentally clearing the way for many a greater poet after him. Besides his numerous " songs and sonnets," mainly love poems, Wyatt wrote three excel- lent satires : Of the Mean and Sure Estate, Of the Courtier's Life, and How to Use the Court and Himself therein. He also attempted a paraphrase of the Penitential Psalms. His most important contri- bution to literature was his adoption of the sonnet, a 96 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE poetical form used by the Italian poet Petrarch, and in various modifications familiar in all literatures of a later time. 1 The following poem may serve to illustrate the poet's metres, and also the common theme of his song : — "The Lover describeth his being stricken with Sight of his Love. " The lively sparks that issue from those eyes, Against the which there vailetli no defence, Have pierc'd my heart, and done it none offence, With quaking pleasure more than once or twice. Was never man could any thing devise, Sunbeams to turn with so great vehemence To daze man's sight as by their bright presence Dazed am I ; much like unto the guise Of one stricken with dint of lightning, Blind with the stroke, and crying here and there ; So call I for help, I not [know not] when nor where, The pain of my fall patiently bearing : For straight after the blaze, as is no wonder, Of deadly noise hear I the fearful thunder." The love poetry of this period is not to be taken too seriously. Dante's Beatrice and Petrarch's Laura were reduplicated many times in the fancy of the Elizabethan poets, while Wyatt and Surrey both seem to have given an English model to these so-called Amourists. There is a possibility, however, that Wy- att, in the sonnet quoted and in other poems more direct in their allusion, is addressing no less a person- age than the fascinating Anne Boleyn. Surrey, who with Wyatt has the distinction of head- 1 The sonnet structure should be well studied. It is deemed the most perfect of verse arrangements, and has been employed with vary- ing success by all the greater — and most of the lesser — poets since Wyatt's day. The sonnet by Wordsworth On the Sonnet should be read by pupils as an ingenious exercise in this form of versification. Refer also to The Sonnet, its Origin, Structure, etc., by Charles Tom- linson (Murray) EARL OF SURREY 97 ing the " courtly makers " of the next three reigns, has generally received the larger share of honor Henry as a versifier. Possibly Wyatt has been un- Howard, derrated somewhat in this comparison, but surrey, Surrey's verse has more ease and elegance, and 1618 " 47 - his metres are more correct than Wyatt' s, if the latter is to be judged by his weakest .productions. Surrey was born about 1518, the son of the Duke of Norfolk. Like Wyatt he was popular at court, and like the elder poet also he enjoyed extended visits in France and Italy. In 1544 the Earl served as marshal of the army in- vading France, and in the following year commanded at Guisnes and Boulogne. Meeting with defeat, Sur- rey was superseded, and was afterward, for some indis- cretion of speech, imprisoned at Windsor. Not so successful as Wyatt in holding the royal favor, the Earl of Surrey, together with his father, fell a victim to the irascibility of Henry's last years. Only a few days before the death of the king, Surrey was executed for treason, on a charge of having quartered the arms of Edward the Confessor on his shield, — a fact which was distorted into a design against the throne. Surrey's work is less voluminous than Wyatt's ; it includes sonnets, poems in various metres, paraphrases of Ecclesiastes and some of the Psalms, and a trans- lation in blank verse of the second and fourth books of Vergil's JEneid. The Lady Geraldine, whose identity has not been satisfactorily determined, is the fair one to whom Surrey's love songs are addressed. The following will show the spirit of his verse, and may be compared with the sonnet already quoted from his friend : — " Description and Praise of his Love Geraldine. ' ' From Tuscane came my Lady's worthy race ; Fair Florence was sometime her ancient seat. 98 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE The western isle whose pleasant shore doth face Wild Camber's cliffs, did give her lively heat. Foster'd she was with milk of Irish breast: Her sire an Earl ; her dame of Prince's blood. From tender years in Britain doth she rest, With Kinges child ; where she tasteth costly food. Hunsdon did first present her to mine eyen : Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight. Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine ; And Windsor, alas ! doth chase me from her sight. Her beauty of kind ; her virtues from above : Happy is he that can obtain her love ! " x The works of these two poets were not written foi Tottei's the public eye ; they circulated in manuscript lany, 6 on ty f rom hand to hand among the friends 1657. w ho composed the courtly circle in which these writers moved. It was not until 1557 that the "songs and sonnets "of Wyatt and Surrey appeared in print, forming the larger part of a collection known as TotteV s Miscellany, which included the poems of several other writers, some of whom are still untraced. Tottei's publication was the first of a numerous series of such volumes put forth by enterprising publishers, indicating the growing love of poetry, and preserving some worthy compositions which might otherwise have been lost. III. REPRESENTATIVE PROSE AND VERSE IN THE ELIZABETHAN AGE. The man who by common consent has been selected sir as the choicest type of Elizabethan chivalry is Sidney * ne Drave anc ^ courtly gentleman, Sir Philip 1564-86. Sidney. Among all the brilliant circle that waited upon the queen, there was none more gifted or more admirable than he. Sidney was born at Pens- hurst, in Kent. He attended both universities, and 1 The poems of Wyatt and Surrey, with a memoir of each, are pub- lished in the Riverside Edition by Houghton, Mifflin and Company. SIR PHILIP SIDNEY 99 spent three years in travel on the Continent. He was in Paris at the time of the Huguenot massacres, and narrowly escaped death on the fearful day of St. Bar- tholomew. Returning to England in his twenty-first year, the young noble was introduced at court by his uncle, the famous Leicester, and quickly charmed the fancy of the queen, who referred to him as " the jewel of her dominions " and showered him with her favors. But Sidney was as high-spirited as he was gallant, and offended by the inconsistencies and fickleness of Eliza- beth, he withdrew after some five years of the cour- tier's life to the estate of his sister, the Countess of Pembroke, at Wilton. Later he was again at court ; was knighted in 1583 ; in 1585 was ordered to accom- pany the unfortunate expedition of Leicester into the Netherlands, and the year following received his death- wound in a chivalrous charge beneath the walls of Zutphen. Like both Wyatt and Surrey, whose careers in some respects had been prototypes of his own, Sir Philip Sidney had found leisure at court, or in the retirement of Penshurst and Wilton, to cultivate the literary art in various fields. About 1580 he wrote a Defence of Poesy, notable as the first true essay in criticism in our language. He was also the author of a series of sonnets and songs entitled Astrophel and Stella. Although not published until 1591, these poems were written at intervals following the year 1581, when the poet suddenly discovered his affection for Penelope Devereux, daughter of the Earl of Essex, who in that year wedded a nobleman of the court. There seems to be no question of the sincerity of the passion re- hearsed in these love poems, one hundred and twenty in all ; and they have taken their place with the finest compositions of this sort in our literature. Besides 100 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE this group of passionate love sonnets, Sir Philip Sidney left an elaborate pastoral romance entitled Arcadia. This voluminous work, which may be taken as typical of numerous efforts in the field of prose fiction belong- ing to this time, was never designed for publication. In the year 1580 Sidney had begun its composition solely for the diversion of his sister, the Countess, charging her to destroy the manuscript as it was read ; but four years after Sidney's death The Countess of Pembroke 's Arcadia was published at London. It became the most popular romance of the day, inspir- ing many imitators, and, like Lyly's Evphues? even setting a model of conversational form among the ladies and gentlemen of Elizabeth's court. Hardly less brilliant than Sidney, and even more ver- satile, Sir Walter Raleigh, the navigator of strange seas, soldier, explorer, colonizer, accomplished gentle- man of the court, lived to its full the eventful life so characteristic of his age. Born in Devonshire, edu- Slr cated at Oxford, Raleigh began his adven- waiter turous career at seventeen years of age as a 1562- ' volunteer in the cause of the French Protest- 1618, ants. Later he was a prominent figure in many of the daring enterprises which give distinction to the time, and was with the fleet which crushed the Great Armada in 1588. The tradition of his romantic intro- duction to Elizabeth, when he is said to have thrown his rich plush cloak upon the wet shore at Greenwich that the flattered queen might walk with unsoiled slip- per, whether fact or fiction, is thoroughly characteristic of the man and of the age. Raleigh quickly rose in favor. A royal grant of 12,000 acres in Ireland made him a neighbor of Edmund Spenser, and furnished an opportunity for the interesting friendship celebrated 1 See page 124. SIR WALTER RALEIGH 101 by the poet of TJie Faerie Queene. Under the rule of James, Raleigh found only ingratitude and mis- fortune. For thirteen years a prisoner in the Tower under charges of treason, he was released, made an unfortunate expedition to the Orinoco in search of gold, returned in disappointment and disgrace, and shortly after, was beheaded upon the old-time charge ; Sir Francis Bacon was conspicuously active in the proceedings against him. During the period of his long imprisonment Raleigh began a voluminous History of the World. H | S The work starts with the Creation, as was cus- Works - tomary among the early historians, and closes with the second Macedonian War, B. c. 168. It is learned and eloquent, and is filled with contemplations and comparisons inspired by the men and the events dis- cussed. The shadow of his own misfortune falls at times upon its pages ; and the conclusion of the His- tory takes the form of an apostrophe to Death, which may serve to suggest the serious tone of the work, and also illustrate the author's style : — "Oh, eloquent, just, and mighty Death! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded ; what none hath dared, thou hast done ; and whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world, and despised ; thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty and ambition of man, and covered it over with these two narrow words — Hie Jacet." Besides his History, Raleigh wrote The Discovery of the Large, Rich and Beautiful Empire of Guiana (1596), a narrative of his voyage to the Orinoco; 1 various other " accounts ; " and many poems, some of which were of merit sufficient to draw from Spenser a 1 Published in CasseWs National Library, ten cents. 102 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE complimentary allusion to Raleigh as the " Summer's Nightingale." The climax in that development of English poetry Edmund which gives such lustre to the Elizabethan Spenser, age is found in the work of Edmund Spen- ser, to whom Charles Lamb gave the title of " The Poet's Poet." Born in London, as was Chau- cer before him, and Milton, who was later to succeed him as a master in the field of epic poetry, he entered into few of the comfortable advantages which enriched the boyhood of those poets. His parents were poor, al- though connected, as the poet tells us, with " an house of ancient fame." His name is mentioned among those of six poor scholars of the Merchant Tailors' School who received assistance from a generous country squire ; and in 1569 we find him entered at the University of Cambridge as a sizar, which means that he earned his way by serv- ing in the dining-hall, and performing other duties of a like character. At the University began the friendship with Gabriel Harvey, a fellow student, who probably introduced the poet to Sidney and the Earl of Leices- ter. In 157G Spenser left Cambridge and found some employment in the north of England ; and here he first showed the quality of his poetic gifts. Spenser's first important composition was a set of twelve eclogues, one for each month of the year. TheSheB- When published in 1579, the work was dedi- herd's cated to Sir Philip Sidney, between whom and Spenser an intimate friendship had al- ready been formed. It is interesting to see the influ- ence of the New Learning in Spenser's work. The spirit of Vergil and of Theocritus speaks again through the classical machinery of pastoral eclogue, a form of poetry which at once laid hold of the pleased imagina- EDMUND SPENSER 103 tion of the age ; indeed, so attractive did this Arca- dian setting appear, that in all forms of imaginative composition, in prose romance, and in dramatic poetry, the loves and woes of complaining shepherds seemed a universal theme by which to rouse the sentimental in- terest of readers. Milton in his Lycidas gave a tone of serious dignity to the pastoral. And more than a hundred years after Spenser's day we find the same machinery used in The Pastorals of Alexander Pope. But The Shepherd 's Calendar was full of the limpid sweetness of Spenser's verse, and marked the highest reach of English poetry since Chaucer. Its quality was recognized at once ; and the poet was duly honored by the friends secured through Sidney's interest. In 1580 Spenser was appointed private secretary to Earl Grey of Wilton, Lord Deputy of Ireland ; and thenceforth Ireland continued to be the poet's home. The country was in rebellion, and conditions were any- thing but pleasant. The private secretary embodied his own reflections in a pamphlet called A in View of the Present State of Ireland (not helanl1 - printed until 1633), which shows sufficiently the bitter harshness of the time. Lord Grey was recalled two years after his appointment, but Spenser was retained in various official positions, and in 1588 was settled at Kilcolman Castle in County Cork. In spite of sur- roundings so unfavorable to a work of pure imagina- tion, Spenser had been engaged throughout his resi- dence in Ireland upon his great epic. According to a letter to Harvey, this poem had been begun before Spenser left England in 1580. By 1589 three books of the epic had been completed, and in that year were shown to Sir Walter Raleigh, who was now a neigh- bor of the poet, holding forfeitures on the same estate. In the company of Raleigh, Spenser now came back to 104 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE London to lay his poem at the feet of the queen whose praises he, more sweetly than any other, had sung. A pension of X50 was bestowed upon the poet, and he returned to Ireland to celebrate his visit in the pasto- ral Colin Clout 's Come Home Again. More than any other work of that age, perhaps, Spenser's masterpiece is typical of the ro- Faerie mantic spirit which characterized England in Queeno. ^ Q j ag j. d eca( i es f ^} ie sixteenth century. The political significance in some portions of the alle- gory, as, for example, the attempt to portray Sidney, Raleigh, Lord Grey, and other noblemen in the heroes of the several cantos ; the figuring forth of the person of the queen herself in the character of Gloriana ; and the presentation of the false Duessa as typical of Mary Stuart, — this is less noteworthy than the gen- eral atmosphere of ideal chivalry and moral struggle which was strikingly in keeping with the thoughts and passions of England in the Elizabethan age. In the person of Arthur, the poet set forth his ideal of per- fect manhood, and designed in the twelve books of his work, as planned, to describe successively the qual- ity of his hero in each of the moral virtues as then defined. The greatness of this great poem, however, is not due to the complicated subtilties of the allegory so much as to the extraordinary charm of these wind- ing paths and byways through which the poet leads us in the fairyland of his dream. Although the length of even this half-completed work, and the unavoidable monotony of these unvarying stanzas, do not encourage continuous reading, The Faerie Qucene still holds its place, one of the greater masterpieces of our literature, a noble epic, rich in imagination and in fancy, ex- pressed in lines which for softness and melody have never been surpassed. MINOR POEMS 105 Spenser's early poems were published under the title of Complaints in 1591. Besides The Faerie Mlnor Queene, his later works include several ele- Poems, gies ; the Amoretti, or love sonnets ; four Hymns in honor of love and beauty, heavenly love and heavenly beauty ; the exquisite Fjrithalamion, or song in honor of his marriage in 1594 ; and another spousal verse, the Prothalamion. His lament upon the death of Sidney, entitled Astrophel, is the finest of his elegies. In the pastoral manner he begins : — " A gentle shepheard borne in Arcady, Of gentlest race that ever shepheard bore, About the grassie bancks of Hsemony Did keepe his sheep, his litle stoek and store : Full carefully he kept them day and night, In fairest fields ; and Astrophel he hight. " Young Astrophel, the pride of shepheards praise, Young Astrophel, the rusticke lasses love : Far passing all the pastors of his daies, In all that seemly shepheard might behove. In one thing onely fayling of the best, That he was not so happie as the rest." In 1595 Spenser came again to England, bringing three more books of The Faerie Queene. For Last a year he remained the guest of the Earl of Years - Essex, at this period the favorite of the capricious Elizabeth. The new literature was now in hand. Shakespeare had produced his early plays, including A Midsummer Night's Dream and Romeo and Ju- liet. Ben Jonson was already on the stage; and Francis Bacon, just about publishing the first edition of his famous Essays, was enjoying the patronage of Spenser's host. It is inconceivable that the poet failed to enter and enjoy the society of these men. In 1598, after the poet had returned to Ireland, occurred a fierce outbreak of the Irish rebels, which involved the 106 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE district of Spenser's residence. Kilcolman was at- tacked and burned, and the unfortunate poet and his family were compelled to flee for their lives. Near the close of the year, Spenser arrived in London in pro- found distress, and in January, 1599, died at an inn. He was buried near Chaucer in the Abbey, and was mourned as the greatest of English poets. The Riverside Edition of this poet, edited in three vol- umes by Francis J. Child, is an authoritative text for the student's purpose. The Globe Edition (Macmillan) con- tains the works of Spenser in one volume. The Life of Spenser in the English Men of Letters Series is by Church. For study, take the first two cantos of Book I. of The Surges- Faerie Queene. Read " A Letter of the Authors " tions lor to Sir Walter Raleigh, expounding his intention u 7 ' in the allegory. What is an allegory'* How many interpretations may be permitted of this poem ? Who are the heroes of the first six books ? What virtues are typified by them ? How does the poet devise to exhibit King Arthur as the quintessence of all the virtues ? Ex- plain the political allegory so far as you can. Examine the structure of the Spenserian stanza, — one of the most perfect stanza forms known. Notice the rhyme order : a — b — a — b — b — c — b — c — c'. Here we have nine verses which would fall into three separate groups did not the repetition of a rhyme bind the parts together. Thus we have a long stanza saved from monotony by the introduc- tion of new rhymes, and secure in its unity because of the repetition of the " b " rhyme. A very effective close for the stanza is found in the last verse, which is longer by two syl- lables than the other verses ; this twelve-syllable verse is called an Alexandrine. This peculiar arrangement of verses Was found by adding the Alexandrine to the stanza used by Chaucer in his Monk's Tale. Most of the later poets have employed this Spenserian stanza : name some of the promi- nent poems in which it appears. SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY. 107 Read several stanzas of the epic aloud ; try to determine for yourself what elements impart the softness and melodi- ousness to the verse. Note the vowel sounds ; the effect of the consonants in combination. Point out the liquids, the long-drawn syllables like muse, deeds, meane, etc. : what is the effect on the ear? Note the repetition of a sound in certain lines, as " Me, all to meane, the sacred muse areeds " (Introd. to canto 1. 1-7). What is the allusion in this stanza ? Now, in reading canto I., try to perceive the beauty of rhythm and melody that have made the poem a delight to the ear. Give a thought to the poet's imagination which with such felicity invents so wonderful an array of images and incidents. Examine the details of the narrative. Ex- plain the allegory in the first stanza : the shield ; the gravity, boldness, and eagerness of the knight ; the lady and her equip- ment. Why does she lead a lamb ? Why is she attended by the dwarf ? What is the significance of the storm, the wood, the battle ? * Make a list of peculiar verbal forms, obsolete words, etc. What is the meaning of the y in ydrad, yclad ? Why did the poet choose these forms, which were out of use even in his day ? Note the images, especially such continued ones as are found in stanzas XXI. and XXIII. Where are the models that suggest them ? Do not overlook the classical allusions, e. g. in XXXVL, XXXVIL, XXXIX. You will find in Book VI. of the fflneid the original of Spenser's description of " Morpheus' house " (XXXIX.-XLL). Compare these stanzas with Thomson's Castle of Indolence and Tennyson's The Lotos Eaters, with special reference to the dreamy languor of the measure. Spenser declares his indebtedness to Chaucer: what evidence of this do you discover ? Why has the title "The Poets' Poet" been given to Spenser ? Of the many minor authors who might be enumer- ated as contributors to the literature of the sixteenth century, the following prose writers are most worthy 106 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE of mention. They were all theologians, and men of Minor large influence in their generation. John Authors. Knox (1505-72), a bold and uncompromis- ing champion of the Protestant cause, more famous for his public sermons than for his formal publications, wrote a History of the Scottish Reformation. John Fox (1517-87), a graduate of Oxford, compiled the Booh of Martyrs, a work of extraordinary influence in the religious controversies amid which Puritan England was developed. Author of many published discourses, which were marked by great force of character and vigorous expression, was Hugh Latimer (1470- 1555), a convert to Protestantism, who suffered mar- tyrdom by burning in the time of Mary. It was Lati- mer who, while enduring the agony of the flames, cried out to his fellow sufferer, " Be of good cheer, Master Ridley, and play the man ; we shall this day light such a candle, by God's grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out." One other writer in the last quar- ter of the century, Richard Hooker (1553-1600), claims attention for the unusual excellence of his style, as seen in the treatise on Ecclesiastical Polity, a de- fense of the English ecclesiastical system. Although of less human interest than the essays of Raleigh or Bacon, this work is regarded as one of the best exam- ples of stately English prose belonging to the time. IV. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE ENGLISH DRAMA. One cannot very well appreciate the remarkable display of creative power in the works of Marlowe, Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, and their contemporaries, who does not look before as well as after, examining the sources and origins of all this activity in dramatic composition which so distinguishes the Elizabethan age. BEGINNINGS OF THE DRAMA 109 The beginnings of classic drama were in religious rites ; the origin of the modern theatre, also, Begin- was in the attempt to impress religious truth *&£*■ upon the people. Between the ancient and the modern stage, however, there is no link of immediate connec- tion. From the period of utter decadence, when pagan art was lost amid the brutalities of gladiatorial shows and worse, to the first simple tableaux and pantomimes intended to figure forth the events and facts of sacred history, a wide gap intervenes. And yet the new be- ginnings were similar in kind to those of the earliest dramatic art. Perhaps the Easter festivals or the Christmas cele- brations of the Church suggested first the pious adap- tation of this ancient art of acting to present im- pressively the facts of the new religion ; per- Religion* haps in the solemn ritual of the Mass itself Rltes- there was more than a mere suggestion of theatrical effectiveness in its inevitable appeal to the imagina- tion of humble worshipers. To enforce the lesson of Good Friday, the Crucifix was interred with a simple ceremonial, and on Easter Sunday it was disinterred. Gradually this brief pantomime grew into an elaborate ceremonial. In some recess of the cathedral chapel a tomb was built, with space for watchmen who should represent the Roman guards ; and here on Easter morning the assembled congregation, awe-struck but curious, saw the women visit the sepulchre, saw the angels roll away the stone that sealed its entrance, saw Peter and John come running ; by and by the return of Mary Magdalene was the signal for one to appear arrayed in the likeness of a gardener, who pro- nounced the woman's name and vanished. Then the great church was filled with the sound of praise as the service closed with the Easter anthem. St. Francis of 110 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE Assisi (1182-1226) arranged a little scene at Christ- mas time near his hermitage in the forest. An ox and an ass were baited there, and by the manger he placed a mother and her babe, while a throng of peasant folk watched the tableau silently. This homely scene was repeated elsewhere, and later the adoration of the Magi was included ; then the flight into Egypt. In the larger churches Joseph was presented leading the ass, on which sat Mother and Child, from the neigh- borhood of the high altar down through the nave to- ward the main entrance, where for a time they rested ; meanwhile the slaughter of the Innocents was enacted at the chancel, and after a space the little procession retraced its path, and the play was over. Very early in the Christian centuries were the be The ginnings of these things in France. They Miraele appeared in England soon after the Con- quest, and in their amplified form these sacred dramas were known as Miracle Plays, or Mys- teries. When the scope of these plays and their elabo- ration outgrew the limitations of church and ecclesi- astic, their presentation was intrusted to the guilds, or great trades companies ; and cycles, or groups of plays, were arranged for the stage. Within the series would be included important events of scripture narrative, sometimes extending from the fall of Lucifer to the final judgment. The various guilds were assigned particular scenes, which they presented on large mov- able platforms called pageants, drawn by horses from station to station through the town — a fresh pageant with a new play taking the place of each as it lum- bered on to its next appointment. Thus all the scenes of an entire cycle would be enacted before all the in- habitants of a town, although the whole presentation might easily occupy several days. Such a series of THE MIRACLE PLAYS 111 miracle plays was presented regularly in Chester at Whitsuntide. A second important group is that of the Coventry mysteries ; the York plays are also famous, and so are the Towneley, 1 or Widkirk, plays. There are twenty-four in the Chester cycle, preserved in a manuscript of the year 1600. These plays had been given at Chester as early as 1268, and their pre- sentation continued down to 1577. The Coventry manuscript dates from the year 1468, and the plays number forty-two. They were regularly performed from the close of the fourteenth century to the close of the sixteenth. There were thirty plays in the Towne- ley group, and forty-eight in the series given at York. Miracle plays were at first written in Latin ; some of them, doubtless, were translated into Norman- French, and finally they appeared in English. With the secularization of the miracle plays other than sacred 'elements were speedily added; M odi«- the moral effect of their performance was cauons. sometimes quite other than was desired, and in some localities at least they were discountenanced, if not actually prohibited, by the Church. The natural de- mand for amusement was a leading force in the devel- opment of the realistic portrayal of character. To make fun for the audience, new personages were intro- duced, like Noah's wife, who is quarrelsome and refuses to enter the Ark until she is threatened with a beating, and is finally bustled aboard by her sons. Serving- men, shepherds, soldiers, became permanent types. Herod was a popular favorite, as he stormed and raved about the scene. Termagant, the traditional deity of the Saracens, was another robust braggart on this early stage. Such creations, though crude, were, 1 So called from the name of the family in whose possession were the manuscripts. 112 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE nevertheless, a real beginning in original characteriza* tion, based on types with which these venturesome ap- prentices were themselves familiar. Indeed there are some notable scenes distinguished by a tragic realism of no inferior type. Coincidently with the miracle plays developed the The Mo- Moralities ; and these latter — allegories in ramies. which the virtues and the vices appeared un- der their own names — enjoyed a popularity equal to that attained by the earlier religious dramas. The moralities were in existence as far back as Henry VI. 's time (1422-71). The titles of some of the most ac- cessible are : Lusty Juvenilis, The Castle of Perse- verance, TJie World and the Child, Hick Scorner, Everyman, The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom, The Four Elements, The Trial of Treasure. The conven- tional material in these moral plays was the course of Youth, or " Human Nature," on the stage of life. He is beguiled by characters like Hypocrisy, Lust, Ava- rice, Slander, Jealousy, Abominable Living, Malice, and Discord. On the other hand he is aided by Per- severance, Discretion, Pity, Mercy, Wisdom, Magnan- imity, Good Hope, Conscience, and the like. In some of the moralities a controversial war was waged between Romanism and Protestantism; in others the evident purpose is to instruct, and the scene grows tedious be- cause of long and prosy homilies on scientific or moral subjects. Again we find the comic characters the most popular, and as in the miracle plays, some conven- tional types are introduced ; such are the Innkeeper and the Peddler. But most characteristic of these personages are the Devil and the Vice, who swagger through the play together, supplying rough and ready humor to tickle the common folk. The Devil was fig- ured forth with a shaggy skin, a huge false nose, MORALITIES AND INTERLUDES 113 horns, hoof, and tail. The Vice was costumed like an athlete, and carried a lath sword, with which he bela- bored the other characters, especially the Devil, al- though the close of his career was inevitably his de- scent, on the Devil's shoulders, into Hell. A morality entitled The Necromancer, written in 1504 by John Skelton, contains characters drawn from common life. In the presentation of these moralities professional actors were employed. Their exhibitions were given in the halls of the nobility, in intervals of banquets, and on holidays in the open squares of towns. At an early period companies of players were maintained by noblemen. The Duke of Gloucester, afterward King Richard III., was thus a patron of the drama as early as 1475. Henry VII. (1485-1509) supported two such companies. Henry VIII. maintained three. The name of interlude, sometimes applied to these compositions, is significant of their use in elab- The "in- orate entertainments, as well as at the feasts, j r jo h n 8 which supplied amusement for court and no- Heywood. bility. As has been stated, the farcical element was generously mingled with the serious. A special devel- opment of this class of plays is found in the interludes of John Heywood, who died about the year 1565. These plays, three in number, are entitled : The Merry Play between Johan the Husband, Tyb his Wife, and Sir John the Priest; The Pour P.'s; and TJie Merry Play between the Pardoner and the Friar, the Cu- rate and Neighbor Pratt. These " merry plays " are scarcely more than dialogues abounding in retort, yet incidentally delineating character with considerable success. Of the three interludes The Four P.'s is the best. Four well-known types are introduced : the Palmer, the Pardoner, the Poticary, and the Peddler. Some of these characters had been portrayed by Chau- 114 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE cer in his Tales, and there is more than a mere sug- gestion of the earlier portraits in the character plays of I ley wood. The interlude is opened by the Palmer, who recites The Four the extent of his journeyings to distant p.'s. shrines : — " At Jerusalem have I been Before Christ's blessed sepuleher : The Mount of Calvary have I seen, A holy place, you may be sure. To Jehosaphat and Olivet On foot, God wot, I went right bare ; Many a salt tear did I sweat Before my carcase could come there." And so on with the list until he is interrupted by the Pardoner, who says : — " And when ye have gone as far as ye can, For all your labor and ghostly intent, Ye will come as wise as ye went." Then follows a long discussion upon the merit of pil- grimages and pardons, the veracity of pilgrims and pardoners. The Poticary and the Peddler join in the debate, and finally, as the principal argument seems to settle upon the point which is the greater liar, the Par- doner or the Palmer, it is suggested by the Peddler that a genuine contest take place between the two, on the merits of which he himself shall judge. This is agreed to. Some diversion is provided by an exhibition of the relics in the Pardoner's wallet and the contents of the Poticary's chest. Among the treasures of the for- mer are " the blessed jawbone " of All Saints aud the great toe of the Trinity. The Pardoner's tale is of his trip to Purgatory and thence to Hell to secure the re- lease of a woman, his one-time friend, and of his success, owing to the Devil's desire to be rid of all women : — TRUE COMEDY 115 " For all we devils within this den Have more to do with two women Than with all the charge we have beside." The Palmer is surprised at the implication thus cast upon women. In his extended travels, he declares, he has seen five hundred thousand : — " Yet in all places where I have been, Of all the women that I have seen, I never saw or knew in my conscience Any one woman out of patience." The Poticary exclaims : " By the Mass, there is a great lie ! " The Pardoner : " I never heard a greater, by our Lady ! " and the Peddler asks : " A greater ! nay, know ye any so great ? " And thus the Palmer wins. The date of The Four P.'s cannot be much later than 1530. The first regular comedy in English was written previous to 1550, by Nicholas Udall, True who in 1534 became head master of Eton Col- comedy, lege, and afterward of Westminster School. Udall was a classical scholar, familiar with the works of Ter- ence and Plautus, and under their influence composed his play Ralph Roister Doister, in five acts. The plot is simple and is confined to complications arising from the wooing of Dame Custance, who is betrothed to Gawin Goodluck, by Ralph Roister Doister, a boast- ful, cowardly fellow ; he in turn is the butt and victim of one Matthew Merrygreek, the chief conspirator in the plot. It is interesting to note the influence of the classic drama in the development of English comedy. The revival of learning had awakened a new interest in Latin as well as Greek literature. As early as 1520 Plautus had been performed before King Henry VIII. ; the comedies of both Plautus and Terence were pre 116 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE sented at the court of Elizabeth ; Seneca had been translated entire. In 15G2 there was performed at Whitehall, before the queen, the first serious attempt at genuine Wagedy in English. This play, entitled Gor- boduc, was the work of two students of the Inner Tem- ple, Thomas Norton and Thomas Sackville, afterward Earl of Dorset, Chancellor of the University of Oxford, and Lord High Treasurer of England. The tragedy is modeled after Seneca. The argument thus sets forth the plot : — " Gorboduc, King of Britain, divided his realm in his lifetime to his sons, Ferrex and Porrex. The sons fell to divisions and dissensions. The younger killed the elder. The mother that more dearly loved the elder, for revenge killed the younger. The people, moved with the cruelty of the fact, rose in rebellion and slew both father and mother. The nobility assembled and most terribly destroyed the rebels. And afterwards, for want of issue of the Prince, whereby the succession of the crown became uncertain, they fell to civil war, in which both they and many of their issues were slain and the land for a long time almost desolate and miserably wasted." Here certainly is tragic motive in abundance, al- though it should be noted that, following the classic model, these tragic events are described, not actually enacted upon the scene. Crude and extravagant as it is, this play marks an epoch in the development of the English drama. It was a fortunate choice which led the authors of Gorboduc to employ blank verse instead of rhyme, — a form of verse which has been recognized ever since as peculiarly appropriate to the demands of tragedy. These are but a few of the more prominent land- marks in the early history of the English stage, and HISTORICAL PLAYS 117 only suggest the manner of its growth. It is to be understood that there were numerous examples of the phases that have been noted, for the development dur- ing Elizabeth's reign was rapid. Miracle plays and moralities flourished side by side and continued popu- lar for some years after Shakespeare's birth ; it would be strange indeed if in his early life the great play- wright himself had not been present at such perform- ances, mingling with the throngs of interested onlook- ers who trooped to the festivities at Warwick Cas- tle, or at Kenilworth, or on holidays even as far as Coventry, to see the mysteries which were there per- formed. Moreover, there was an increasing store of dramatic works, the material of which was drawn from Historical life with more or less realistic detail, which Plays - embodied, too, in an ever increasing degree the spirit of genuine comedy and tragedy. A most prolific source of such material, rich in dramatic quality, lay at hand in the recently compiled chronicles and histories of England's national existence ; and the brilliant achieve- ments of contemporary history which had fired the en- thusiasm of Elizabeth's subjects kindled an intense interest in these records of events which had been impressive and momentous in their time. Of the his- torians who contributed to this material the most im- portant was Raphael Holinshed, whose Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland, published in 1577, formed the great storehouse from which were drawn the arguments of a number of popular dramas before Shake- speare had recourse to it for the material used in his own remarkable "histories." Preceding Holinshed in point of time was Edward Hall, whose work, The Un- ion of the Two Noble Families of Lancaster and York (1547), supplied its share of the material dealing with 118 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE the Wars of the Roses. We find an interesting illus- tration of this resort to history in the pageant of King John, written by Bishop John Bale, probably in the reign of Edward VI. This old play is really a mo- rality ; for along with the historical characters there are introduced allegorical personages such as England, Nobility, Civil Order, Treason, and Sedition. A later play, The Troublesome Reign of John, King of Eng- land, printed in 1591, but written some years previous to that date, has no connection with Bale's work. Other examples of these early historical plays are found in The True Tragedy of Richard, Duke of York, and the First Part of the Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster, which formed the basis of Shakespeare's King Henry VI. The Famous Vic- tories of Henry V. was acted previous to 1588, and a Latin play on the career of Richard III. was presented at Cambridge in 1579. A later play on the same sub- ject antedated by several years Shakespeare's tragedy of that title. That Shakespeare himself was intensely stirred by the heroic richness of this historical material is evident in the use he makes of it in his own great " histories." Thus in his King John, before the walls of besieged Angiers, Cceur de Lion's son is made to say: — " Ha, Majesty ! how high thy glory towers, When the rich hlood of kings is set on fire ! 0, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel ; And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men, In undetermin'd differences of kings." l With the passing of miracle plays and moralities, innyards, with their surrounding galleries, became the usual places of dramatic performances. The earliest 1 Act II. scene i. 350. Compare with this passage the prologue to King Henry V., referred to on page 121. THE THEATRES 119 public playhouse in London, called The Theatre, was built in 1576 by James Burbadge, father of TheThe- Richard Burbadge, the great actor of tragic atres - parts in Shakespeare's day. Next in date of building was The Curtain. 1 The Rose was opened in 1592 on the Bankside. At Newington Butts there was a play- house known by the name of that locality. The Globe, most famous of all the London playhouses, was erected in 1599 on the site of the old Theatre, which was torn down after its owner had built the new Blackfriars Theatre in 1596. The Red Bull, The Fortune, The Cockpit, and The Swan were also standing in Shake- speare's time. In all, the city boasted some dozen theatres of varying use and fame. If one would reconstruct an early London playhouse, he should think first of one of those round, or many- sided structures, familiar now in all large cities as used for the exhibition of cycloramas and realistic battle pic- tures. In buildings similarly shaped, but not ^^^ entirely roofed over, the greatest English Equip- dramas were first performed. A shed-roof projected a little way inside the circle, thus protect- ing the stage and the tiers of seats that corresponded to our balconies and boxes ; the large centre of the theatre was unprotected commonly from either sun or shower, and here the " groundlings " stood elbowing one another throughout the progress of the play. This part of the theatre was strewn with rushes ; in time it received the not inappropriate name of the pit. The stage itself was plainly furnished ; there was little thought of decoration or of setting. There was always an elevated platform or balcony overlooking the stage at the rear ; and upon this elevation were presented the frequent plays within plays, as in Hamlet. This 1 Derived from the Latin curtina, a little court ; hence a local name. 120 FROM CIIAUUEK TO SHAKESPEARE platform also furnished the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet, and served to suggest the walls of a city, as in King John and in the " histories." Gayly dressed and boisterous representatives of the court usually occu- pied stools upon the stage itself, where they displayed their finery, their fashions, and their manners, often to the great annoyance of audience and actors. Coarse- visaged, hoarse-voiced women sold oranges and apples to the mechanics and apprentices who crowded the pit. Tradesmen and gentlemen commoners filled the little pens which served for private boxes. Very few women were seen in this public audience ; those of any repu- tation were closely masked. The gallants on the stage played cards and smoked, talked with one another, and insolently commented on actors and auditors alike. The performances were usually at three in the after- noon. A flag flying from the roof indicated that a play was on the stage. With a flourish of trumpets the customary Prologue was introduced, and then the action proceeded. Scarcely any scenery was employed. A card was hung announcing the scene in a wood, a castle, a field of battle, France, Bohemia, Paris, Venice, or London. Articles of common furnishing were uti- lized, and sometimes more elaborate efforts were made to give a realistic effect to the scene ; but for the most part a frank appeal was made to the imagination of the spectators, and the liveliness of the imagination in the Elizabethan age seems to have been entirely adequate to all demands. 1 There are many who assert 1 " Can this cockpit hold The vasty fields of France ? or may we cram Within this wooden the very casques That did affright the air at Agincourt ? Suppose within the girdle of these walls Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies, THE COMPANIES 121 that this condition was favorable in every way, and that the performance grew vastly more impressive through the very absence of mechanical details, which possibly distract attention rather than emphasize the actor's art. No attempt was made to reproduce the costumes historically suggestive of the character or scene ; yet the actor's wardrobe was as luxurious and costly as that of the courtier himself. The women's parts were played by boys or men, who were often famous for their skill. If one would have the comment of the best possible authority on the methods of the Elizabethan staore, let him turn to the third act of Hamlet and fol- low carefully the instructions to the players. In many a comic scene, besides, has Shakespeare burlesqued the rude craft of some early player, as well as the gen- eral poverty of the stage in his time. Professional actors were banded into companies dis- tinguished by the title of some patron. There The Com . were the Lord Leicester's Players, the Queen's panies. Players, the Lord Chamberlain's Men, etc. The ser- vice of the patron does not seem usually to have in- cluded much more than the securing of the royal license for the company, although the Queen's and the King's companies enjoyed some further privileges, and were honored with some special obligations in present- ing their plays at court. A single company might be known by different names at various times. The Earl Whose high upreared and ahutting fronts The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder : Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts ; Into a thousand parts divide one man, And make imaginary puissance ; Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth ; For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings," etc. Prologue to King Henry P". 122 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE of Leicester's Men became Lord Strange's in 1588. In 1592 Lord Strange became Earl of Derby, and the players changed their title accordingly. In 1594 the Earl of Derby died, and his company of actors became Lord Hunsdon's or the Lord Chamberlain's Men. In 1596 the earl died, and his son, the second Lord Huns- don, became their patron ; he also became Chamberlain in 1597. After the accession of James in 1603, this same company was honored with the title of King's Players. William Shakespeare was certainly a mem- ber of this company in 1594, and one of its foremost men in 1598. It is probable that he joined it on his first arrival in London. Richard Burbadge, greatest actor of his time, was Shakespeare's colleague and first interpreted his great tragic characters. William Kemp, the best comedian of his day, was a member of this same company. John Ileming and Henry Condell were fel- low actors with the poet, who collected Shakespeare's plays and edited the famous first folio text in 1623. This notable company first occupied The Theatre in Moorfields, and then the Rose, on Bankside ; but it is the Globe Theatre with which they were especially identified, and of which Shakespeare himself was part owner. Something of the development of the English drama Shake- has been outlined in the foregoing para- phed™ 3 graphs; something remains to be said con- cessors. cerning the group of men who actually pos- sessed the London stage at the moment of Shakespeare's entrance on professional life. Their influence on his career was not insignificant. First in point of time came John Lyly. His dis- tinction rests upon his romances and his pastoral come- dies, which made him the most popular writer of his day. Lyly's earliest work appeared in 1579, when he THE INTERIOR OF THE SWAN THEATRE AS SKETCHED BY JOHANNES DE WITT, A DUTCH SCHOLAR, ABOUT 1596 (At the rear of the stage, which is uncovered, is the tiring-room, to which the two large doors give entrance. Above the tiring-room extends a covered balcony, now occupied by spectators, but used by the actors, when required, in the presentation of a play. At the door of the chamber near the gallery roof stands a trumpeter to announce the beginning of an act. The flag, with the emblem of the swan, is flying, as a sign to those outside that a play is in progress. The disposition of boxes and galleries is plain, but unfortunately the "groundlings" are unrepresented in the picture. The form of the building is oval. No other drawing of the interior of an Elizabethan theatre is known to exist, says Dowden. The original sketch was discovered recently in the University Library, Utrecht.) 124 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE was a graduate student at Oxford. It was a novel, as John Lyiy, novels then went, entitled Euphuea. The 1554-1606. s t orv i s verv slight ; it details the observa- tions and reflections of a young Athenian who, in the second part of the narrative, visits England and expresses his opinions on society, friendship, love, philosophy, and religion. The peculiar feature of this work is its strange and ingenious literary style, a style so distinctive that the word euphnistic was coined to designate it. In Lyly's euphuism, alliteration played a conspicuous part ; elaborately balanced antithesis was curiously studied out ; the vocabulary was burdened with unusual and bombastic terms ; the imagery was forced to an absurd extravagance and made much use of the fabulous material which may at one time have passed for natural science. The whole principle of this style was artificial : — " There is no privilege that needeth a pardon, neither is there any remission to be asked where a commission is to be granted. I speak this, gentlemen, not to excuse the of- fence which was taken but to offer a deience where I was mistaken." " As by basil the scorpion is engendered, and by the means of the same herb destroyed ... or as the salaman- der which being a long space nourished in the fire at last quencheth it." These may be taken as fair illustrations of the eccen- tricities of euphuism ; and yet Lyly's style became the fashion, not only in the literature of the day, but to some extent even in the sober speech of polite society. In spite of its oddities, Euphuism was not without wholesome effect upon the subsequent structure of our English prose, encouraging an attention and a care for style which had been in some degree neglected. JOHN LYLY 125 Following the success of Evphues, Lyly attached him- self to the court and sought an appointment as Master of the Revels, but this hope was never gratified. The author of Euphues, however, wrote seven or eight court comedies, so-called, which were rather masques l than comedies, as we use the latter term. Their themes were usually the elaborate flattery of the queen ; their mate- rial and their titles were taken from the classics. Six of Lyly's plays were first presented before Elizabeth herself by the children's companies then frequently employed. The more important of the comedies are : Endimion, Midas, Sa]iho and Phao, Alexander and Campaspe, Galatea. Into the current of his rather sluggish dramas Lyly tossed an occasional bit of lyric verse, which, more than anything else from his pen, appeals to the appreciation of the modern reader. 2 The influence of John Lyly upon the early work of Shakespeare is considerable. Love's Labour 's Lost, A Midsummer Nightfs Dream, The Merry Wives of Windsor, and As You Like It contain many sugges- tions of this " Euphuist." While at times he satirizes the absurdities of euphuism, Shakespeare, like his con- temporaries, drops easily into the same artificial style. A good example of his serious use of that peculiar diction is found in the Duke's speech in As You Like It, Act II., scene i. Participating in the dramatic activity of this prepar- atory period were George Peele (1558-97), Peele author of The Arraignment of Paris, Tlie K 7d. .... Greene Chronicle of Edward I., The Love of King Nash, and David and Fair Bethseba, and The Battle Lod e e - of Alcazar ; Robert Greene (1560-92), whose plays, Alphonsus King of Arragon, Orlando Furioso, James IV., Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, and George- 1 Page 147. 2 See the song Cupid and My Campaspe Played. 126 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE a -Greene, struck a note echoed in many a play of the greater dramatist ; and Thomas Kyd (died 1594), author of The Sjjanish Tragedy. Of Kyd's per- sonality we know little. Peele and Greene were typ- ical bohemians of their craft and day, and the bre- vity of their career is significant of dissipation and reckless squandering of all their powers. Intimately associated with these writers were two others, Thomas Nash (1567-1600) and Thomas Lodge (died 1625). Nash and Lodge contributed little directly to the stage ; their work is rather in the field of prose ro- mance, in which they were pioneers with Lyly and also Greene. Lodge was the author of Rosalynde, the prototype of Shakespeare's heroine ; Greene, writer of a dozen romances, supplied in Pandosto the mate- rial for The Winter's Tale. Nash was a realist, and wrote a novel called The Unfortunate Traveller, or the Life of Jack Wilton (1594). In his slight contri- butions to dramatic literature he employed the method of the satirist. But by far the most interesting and most important of Shakespeare's predecessors was Marlowe, who was born at Canterbury, the son of a shoemaker. He received a university training at Cambridge, where he took his bachelor's degree in 1583. Of his pher early life we know less even than of Shake- Mariowe, speare's, but his first play, Timhurlainc, was 1664 " 93 " acted in 1587 or 1588. Then followed The Tragical History of Doctor Paustus, The Jew of Malta, and Edward II., three great plays which car- ried Marlowe to the forefront among this group of dramatists, profoundly impressing young Shakespeare's swiftly developing genius, and giving promise of achievements comparable to those of the great poet himself. The mere fact that in the Jew of Malta CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE 127 Shakespeare found a model for bis creation of Shylock is less significant than the close resemblance in plan and structure between Marlowe's Edward and Shake- speare's Richard II. Indeed the former play may be regarded as having given the dramatic " history " its permanent form. In 1593, five years, perhaps, after the completion of his earliest play, Marlowe, twenty- nine years old, died a tragic and disgraceful death. Such was the end of not a few of the brilliant charac- ters who wasted genius and life thus in the prodigal age of the great queen. The spirit of Marlowe's dramatic work is a passion- ate thirst for power. His dramatis personal — Mar- lowe himself — craved that " Solely sovereign sway and masterdom " which Shakespeare included as an object in the o'er- reaching ambition of Macbeth. He is never to be ranked among the minor poets of his time. Marlowe's services to English dramatic art were of prime impor- tance. He used blank verse superbly. It was no mere hyperbole of compliment that Ben Jonson uttered when he spoke of " Marlowe's mighty line." Bombast — ever a delight to the Elizabethan ear — is frequent enough in the speeches of Marlowe's charac- ters ; but even here there is an irresistible roll in the verse that speaks of an imagination and a strength destined for great things. In the drama of the Scythian shepherd-warrior Tamburlaine occurs this character- istic scene, which may illustrate the effectiveness of that " mighty line : " — " Tamburlaine. Bring out my footstool. [Bajazeth is taken from the cage.] 128 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE " Bajazeth. Ye holy priests of heavenly Mahomet, That, sacrificing, slice and cut your flesh, Staining his altars with your purple hlood ; Make Heaven to frown and every fixed star To suck up poison from the moorish fens, And pour it in this glorious tyrant's throat ! " 1 Elsewhere Tamburlaine himself discourses thus : — " The world will strive with hosts of men-at-arms, To swarm unto the ensign I support : The host of Xerxes, which by fame is said To have drank the mighty Parthian Araris, Was but a handful to that we will have. Our quivering lances, shaking in the air, And bullets, like Jove's dreadful thunderbolts, Enrolled in flames and fiery smouldering mists, Shall threat the gods more than Cyclopian wars : And with our sun-bright armour as we march, We '11 chase the stars from Heaven and dim their eyes That stand and muse at our admired arms." 2 For general study of the drama, the book of widest utility - and of chief authority is A. A. Ward's History tionsfor of English Dramatic Literature (Macmillan, 3 study. vols.). Also important is Shakespeare's Prede- cessors in the English Drama, by John Addington Sy- monds (Smith, Elder & Co.). The English Religious Drama, by Katharine Lee Bates (Macmillan), is condensed and can be used to advantage. The English Miracle Plays, by Alfred Pollard (Clarendon Press), contains good illustrations of the early drama. Specimens of the Pre- Shakespearian Drama, edited by J. M. Manly (Ginn), in- cludes, in vol. i., specimens of the miracle plays and mo- ralities, also The Four P.'s, by Heywood, and Bale's Kynge Johan. Vol. ii. contains Ralph Roister Doister, Gam- mer Gurton's Needle, Cambises, Gorboduc, and plays by Lyly, Greene, Peele, and Kyd. This work is especially val- uable, and with it should be mentioned The Best Eliza- bethan Plays, edited by W '. R. Thayer (Ginn), which gives the text of Marlowe's Jew of Malta, Jonson's The Alchemist, 1 Act IV. scene ii. 1. 2 Act II. scene ii. 13. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 129 Beaumont and Fletcher's Philastre, The Two Noble Kins- men (in part attributed to Shakespeare), and Webster's The Duchess of Malfi. The careful reading of these texts is strongly urged upon teachers. An acquaintance with the plays is worth more than any amount of reference to books which describe or criticise them ; and these collections are so easily available that there is no excuse for their being over- looked. The most important plays of the Elizabethan dra- matists are published in the Mermaid Series (Scribner). The volume devoted to Marlowe contains all his plays, and has an excellent introduction by J. A. Symonds. Other volumes include the works of Massinger, Middleton, Beau- mont, and Fletcher. The complete works of Marlowe have been edited by F. Cunningham (Chatto & Windus), also by A. H. Bullen (3 vols.), in The English Dramatists' Series. In the series of English Readings, published by Henry Holt & Co., are found Lyly's Endymion, edited, with a critical essay upon that writer, by G. P. Baker, and Marlowe's Edward II., edited by E. T. McLaughlin. Upon dramatic form and structure there is no more com- prehensive study than Freytag's Technique of the Drama, translated by E. J. MacEwan (Scott, Foresman & Co.). The Drama, its Law and Technique, by Elizabeth Wood- bridge (Allyn & Bacon), is a usefid book ; it is much briefer than Freytag's and embodies its principles. For an account of the times, read Shakespeare's England, by Edwin Goadby (Cassell), The Age of Elizabeth, by M. Creighton {Historical Epochs Series, Scribner), chapter vii. in Green's Short History of the English People, and Shakespeare the Boy, by W. J. Rolfe (American Book Co.). V. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564-1616) AND HIS SUCCESSORS. While the last stages in this evolution of the Eng- lish drama were passing partly within the brilliant cir- cle of Elizabeth's court, partly amid the extravagant and often dissolute scenes of bohemian literary life in 130 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE London, there was developing at Stratford on Avon, a quiet village of Warwickshire, — " That shire which we the heart of England well may call " 2 — a youthful genius who should one day claim domin- ion over the English stage, to be recognized in time as the greatest among all the men of genius that this is- land kingdom was to bear. Of his life we know all too little ; and yet we are as well acquainted with it as we are with Spenser's or with Chaucer's. William Shakespeare was the son of John and Mary instrat- (Arden) Shakespeare. Neither belonged to ford - the educated class ; but that during the poet's boyhood they enjoyed the respect of the community and were fairly prosperous is evident. John Shakespeare, according to custom, practiced two or three related trades : he is referred to as a glover, as a butcher, and as a dealer in wool and leather. In 1558 he was elected a member of the Stratford council ; in 1559 he was ap- pointed constable. In fact he held numerous offices and was regarded clearly as one qualified to have a considerable share in the oversight of town affairs. In 1568 he became bailiff, an official of great importance in the corporation ; he was afterward made chief alder- man. Later in life he fell into financial embarrassment and seems to have lost his standing as a man prominent in public service. On the 26th of April, 1564, his son, William, was baptized, and tradition has settled upon the 23d of April as the probable date of the poet's birth. There was a school of good academic grade at Strat- ford, the free grammar school, one of several that had been reestablished on old foundations by Edward VI. Here Shakespeare received such educational training as the schoolroom could provide. Latin grammar and 1 From Michael Drayton's Polyolhion. IN STRATFORD 131 literature must have formed the principal subject of his study, and it is entirely possible that the school offered instruction in both French and Italian. That Shake- speare enjoyed some acquaintance with these languages is certain. Ben Jonson's often quoted assertion that his fellow dramatist had " small Latin and less Greek " should be understood as the statement of a critic who was himself noted for classical scholarship, and cer- tainly cannot be interpreted as affirming the poet's ignorance of either language. Conjecture has ascribed various employments to the son of John Shakespeare, and tradition has been busy with hints of youthful ex- ploits and wilder escapades. His home was in one of the richest and most beauti- ful shires of England, — a region of fallow field and romantic woodland, of winding stream and quiet coun- try landscape. Footpaths crossed the meadows and ran between hedges fragrant with spring blossoms, melodious with the songs of linnet and thrush. Beyond the smoothly flowing Avon stretched the ancient forest of Arden to suggest the scenes that delight us in Love's Labour's Lost, A Midsummer Night's Dream, and As You Like It. There were little hamlets scattered over the countryside ; here and there were the extensive parks and imposing manor houses of the gentry. To the north, only the distance of a wholesome country walk, stood Warwick Castle. Kenilworth was but fifteen miles away, where the Earl of Leicester elaborately entertained the queen with masques and pageants on the occasion of a royal visit in 1575, when Shakespeare was eleven years old. Only a few miles beyond Kenil- worth lay historic Coventry, at that time the third city in England, where miracle plays were performed as late as 1580, when Shakespeare was a boy of sixteen. Amid the memories and inspirations of these diverse scenes, 132 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE William Shakespeare grew into the possession of his poetic power. In the fall of 1582 this youth was married to Anne Hathaway, daughter of a well-to-do farmer living in the neighboring hamlet of Shottery. The bride was eight years the senior of her husband. In the following year their daughter Susanna was born. Two other children, twins, Hamnet and Judith, were born early in 1585 ; and later in that year, or in the year following, Shake- speare left Stratford, to appear soon after in London, where for twenty years he seems to have made his home. When Shakespeare came to London — that was in- The spirit deed the marking of an epoch in English let- of the Age. ^ erSt It was an auspicious time for the advent of this gifted youth. The exhilaration of a great en- thusiasm was in the air. It was a period of extra- ordinary enterprise and the most daring achievements. A remarkable growth in national spirit was the dis- tinguishing feature of Elizabeth's reign, and various natural causes contributed to this growth. The re- ligious troubles, which arose in the time of Henry VIII. and reached their terrible climax in the reign of Mary, were now allayed, and a spirit of tolerance insured an era of religious liberty gratefully welcomed by the nation at large. A notable activity in all kinds of trade, and general prosperity, the result of a rapidly developing commerce, gave a new confidence to the kingdom caught in such desperate straits by the unfortunate policy of Mary. The spirit of expan- sion possessed the age, and admiration succeeded won- der at the deeds of Elizabeth's knights and admirals. In Shakespeare's boyhood Sir Francis Drake accom- plished the circumnavigation of the globe. 1 While 1 Read in Green's Short History of the English People the para- graph on " The Sea Dogs," ch. vii. § 13. THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE 133 he was still in his teens, Englishmen were dreaming of conquest and colonies in the new world. He was already making his way in London when there oc- curred that momentous event which we call the defeat of the Great Armada, an event which not only filled all England with the joy of an unprecedented victory, but which banished for the time the chance of foreign interference in Church or State. As a result of these favoring conditions, the whole kingdom awoke to a sudden sense of its own greatness and power. More- over, the hearts of the people were united in a warmth of passionate devotion to their queen, a devotion which seems to have thrown the idealism of a romantic chiv- alry over all the relations of subject and sovereign. Elizabeth's courtiers were extravagant in the expression of their worship. The Earl of Hatton declared that " to see her was Heaven ; the lack of her was Hell." Sir Philip Sidney, the Earl of Essex, Raleigh, Wal- singham, Lord Burleigh, the Earl of Leicester — all were leaders in the brilliant group of cavaliers who waited on the queen. Some of these men aspired to the most intimate relations with their sovereign ; some were themselves distinguished by their contributions to the literature of the age, and were noted for their gen- erous patronage of writers more gifted than themselves. Drake, Frobisher, Hawkins, Grenville, were among the most famous of the gallant sailors who helped to make their country feared on every sea. These men felt the spirit of the time, and each in his own way obeyed an impulse that was irresistible. There was a feverish ex- altation, an exuberant extravagance in private as well as public enterprise. Young men scarce out of boy- hood embarked on hazardous ventures. Vast fortunes were squandered as recklessly as they had been gath- ered. Men as well as women wore rich and striking 134 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE costumes. Novel luxuries found their way into use. Architecture improved, spacious halls and splendid mansions were erected. Forks were introduced, and table etiquette improved along with a more luxurious service. Great sums were expended in pageants and entertainments, to which the common citizens were often admitted. Men thought and spoke as they dressed and planned — lavishly. The highly elaborate and artificial diction affected by Lyly and Sidney was imi- tated and exaggerated by the court ; it too was signifi- cant of the time. In this epoch the imagination ruled. Sidney, Spenser, Marlowe, and Shakespeare were as truly types of the age in literature as were the men of daring and brilliant action already named. In the light of such conditions we may appreciate the language of the French historian Taine, when, in introducing his chapter on Shakespeare, he declares that this great age alone could have cradled such a child. This was the character of the time when Shake- speare came to London. The Shepherds' Calendar had been written at Penshurst, where Sidney had framed the passionate sonnets comprised in Astrophel and Stella, and Spenser was now in Ireland busy in his leisure over the first three books of The Faerie Queene. Francis Bacon, recently admitted to the bar, was pursuing his unhappy career in search of prefer- ment at court, and accepting favors from the young Earl of Essex, then prime favorite with the queen. Ben Jonson was attending Westminster School, a lad of twelve. The comedies of Lyly were in fashion with the court. Peele and Greene were in their prime, and Marlowe was at work on Tamburlaine, his first success. There is no exact record of Shakespeare's first ex- periences at the capital. In some manner he found employment at one of the two playhouses then open, 136 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE probably in some subordinate position such as care- taker or servant for the benefit of patrons. Then he became a member of the company, and in the adaptation of old plays he doubtless began his apprenticeship as a writer for the stage. In time, as his ability was recognized, he was set at more ambi- tious tasks, and, first in collaboration with established playwrights, then in the full freedom of his own exu- berant fancy, he began to produce his works. Of Shakespeare's success as an actor few notes have been preserved. He is described by one contemporary as " excellent in the quality he professes." 1 Another says that he was " a handsome, well-shaped man," and an old actor, William Beeston, asserted that he " did act exceeding well." We know that Shakespeare ap- peared in two of Ben Jonson's plays, Every Man in his Humor and Sejanus ; also that he played the part of Adam in As You Like It and the Ghost in Ham- let ; by one writer 2 this last role was referred to as " the top of his performance." That he played principal parts in all his own dramas is affirmed in the first col- lected edition (1G23) of his works. Shakespeare's hand is felt in Titus Andronicus and in the First Part of King Henry VI Concern- ing the former there is a tradition that some dramatist, His First now unidentified, brought the play to Shake- Period, speare's company, and that it was turned over to the poet for revision. The "history" may have been written by Marlowe and Shakespeare in con- junction. About 1590 the young dramatist began original work. The result of the next five years in- cluded Love's Labour 's Lost, Comedy of Errors, Tico Gentlemen of Verona, A Midsummer flight's Dream, 1 Henry Chettle, publisher of Greene's Pamphlet, 1592. 2 Nicholas Rowe. HIS FIRST PERIOD 137 Romeo and Juliet, the Second and Third Parts of King Henry VI, Richard III., Richard II, and King John. Because of their preponderance, this is often called the period of the early comedies and his- tories. As it represents the experimental stage of Shakespeare's activity, Mr. Dowden describes it by the phrase " In the Workshop." That the poet's power was recognized is evident from an interesting note of the time which also indicates that his success was suffi- ciently marked to rouse the jealousy of some older men. In 1592 appeared a little book entitled A Groatsivorth of Wit, the last utterance of the popular and profligate playwright, Robert Greene, who died in beggary just before the publication of his pamphlet. In a spirit of bitterness Greene remonstrates against the habits of new writers, accusing them of making too free with the material of his own plays and the productions of his friends, Marlowe and Peele. One sentence of his indictment addressed to the writers named gains importance because of its reference to Shakespeare : — " Yes, trust them not," he says, " for there is an upstart Crow beautified with our feathers, that with his Tygers heart wrapped in a players hide, supposes he is as well able to bumbast out a blanke verse as the best of you : and being an absolute Johannes Factotum is, in his owne conceit, the only Shake-scene in the countrie." In the Third Part of King Henry VI. occurs the line, " Oh Tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide," and the allusion in Greene's attack suggests that pos- sibly he, at least in part, was author of the original plays which Shakespeare recast finally in the Second and Third Parts of King Henry VI. But the charge made by Greene is of importance mainly as being the 138 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE earliest known allusion to the poet in print, and as throwing light upon the nature of his labors and their success. In a publication only three months later, Chettle apologizes for this reference, and warmly ap- proves the dramatist and his art. The dedication of the two poems, Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece (1593, 1594), is ample proof of Shake- speare's recognition by those who patronized the arts. Between 1595 and 1601 Shakespeare wrote The Mer- chant of Venice, the two parts of King Henry IV., King Henry V, Merry Wives of Windsor, Taming of Second ^ ie Shrew, Much Ado About Nothing, As period. You Like It, Twelfth Night. This is the period of the later comedies — what Dowclen denomi- nates " In the World." Here we fall immediately under the spell of Shakespeare's perfect art. Never have sentiment and romance, pathos and humor, mingled so exquisitely as in these beautiful creations of rich poetic fancy and dramatic power. Five at least of the plays are masterpieces. Elizabeth is said to have been so taken with the character of Falstaff in King Henry IV. that she bade the author show that personage in love ; and tradition ascribes the creation of the Merry Wives to this command. Evidences of the poet's prosperity are not wanting. In 1597 John Shake- speare was allowed the grant of a coat of arms ; there- after the title " Gentleman " appears following any legal mention of Shakespeare's name. In that same year the playwright purchased New Place in Strat- ford, the home he occupied after his retirement from the stage. This was the first of a series of invest- ments which imply a thrifty disposition as well as financial success. In 1597 also begins the publication of Shakespeare's plays. Sixteen of these were printed during the author's lifetime, and these were published THIRD PERIOD 139 without his authority or supervision. His revenue came from the theatre for which he wrote, and it was for his pecuniary interest that his productions should remain the exclusive property of the company to which he belonged. There was then no privilege of copy- right and no protection for an author if his work was stolen or published in imperfect form. But in the case of Shakespeare, the publication of the plays, be- ginning with Richard II, Richard III., and Romeo and Juliet, in 1597, seems to indicate the rising fame of the dramatist, and the desire of readers to become acquainted with his works. The plays thus printed singly, previous to 1623, are distinguished by their form as the quarto texts. In 1598 Francis Meres, in his book Palladis Tamia (The Wit's Treasury}, enumerates the titles of twelve plays which in his opinion prove the English dramatist comparable to Plautus and Seneca among the Latins. This mention of the poet's work is exceedingly valua- ble in helping to fix the chronology of the plays. The famous Globe Theatre was built in 1599, and from the first Shakespeare appears to have owned a large share in the property ; there is a tradition that the young Earl of Southampton had once made the drama- tist a gift of £1000, which may have helped him to this investment. Such generosity from a patron of art is by no means incredible or unlikely. The Earl of Essex had bestowed on Francis Bacon a much larger gift. Now follows a distinct epoch in the dramatist's ca- reer. It is the period of his great trage- Third dies, the masterpieces of the English stage. Perlod - Within the first six or seven years of the new century were produced, in rapid succession, Julius Caesar, Hamlet, Othello, Lear, Macbeth; also two serious comedies, All 's Well that Ends Well and Measure t40 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE for Measure, together with one " history," Troilus and Cressida. It may be that in this extraordinary grouping of material turbulent with passion, heavy with the gloom of human tragedy, the pathos and catastrophe of life, we should see only the marvelous creations of a philosopher whose imagination laid closer hold on the motives and emotions of man than that of any other dreamer or seer that we have ever known, and that the tone of these dramas is not to be regarded as especially significant of the poet's own mental atti- tude during this time. But such imaginings can hardly come from even the most profound of human minds until it has been harrowed by some stern experience. In Measure for Measure the Duke thus reasons with life : — " If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing' That none but fools would keep," 1 — a sentiment in harmony with the desperate philoso- phy of Macbeth : — " It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing." 2 To this period of tragic mood has Dowden, not inap- propriately, applied the motto " Out of the Depths." Whatever may have directly inspired these intense studies of the sadder phases in life's drama, there cer- tainly was no falling off in the financial prosperity of Shakespeare, for large investments were made in 1G02 and 1605. Professionally, the company of which he was a member passed under the patronage of James I., and when that monarch made his royal entry into Lon- don, March 15, 1604, Shakespeare was one of the nine actors composing the band of King's Players who walked in the procession from the Tower to West- minster. And not long after this event he seems to 1 Act III. scene i. 5. 2 Act V. scene v. 20. THE SONNETS 141 have left the stage of the theatre, although he continued to reside in London, and followed his calling as a play- wright for several years. The last group of dramas from Shakespeare's hand belongs to the period between 1607 and 1612. F 0urt h It comprises two Roman "histories," Antony Perlod - and Cleopatra and Coriolanns. Timon of Athens and Pericles represent the work of another dramatist, Shakespeare apparently having given only final touches to these plays. The finest compositions in this last group are the romantic dramas Cymbeline, The Tem- pest, and The Winter' 's Tale. The spirit of these romances is calm and joyous ; the stress of unjust sus- picion and cruel harshness is softened into reconciliation and atonement. The action lies wholly in the pleasant dreamland of a poet's imagination, and the happiness of childhood and youth reigns care-free in each conclu- sion. The pageant of King Henry VIII., but slightly touched by the great dramatist, may be included as containing traces of Shakespeare's workmanship, the last dramatic labor of the poet so far as known. Shakespeare's /Sonnets, which had been accumulat- ing for ten years or more, were published without the author's sanction in 1609. The story which The they seem to tell has caused much discussion, Sonnets - and various unsatisfactory attempts have been made to interpret them. If they contain anything more sub- stantial than the fiction of fancy, it is unlikely that they will ever be reduced to the details of fact. " With this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart," says Wordsworth. " Did Shakespeare ? If so, the less Shakespeare he ! " comments Browning. 1 1 Wordsworth, Scorn not the Sonnet ; Browning, House. 142 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE It must not be supposed that during Shakespeare's Last brilliant course in London his heart had been Years. entirely weaned from his family and home in Stratford. There are traditions of visits more or less regularly paid ; and at the age of forty-five or six, the poet turned his back upon the excitements and conten- tions, the rivalries and triumphs of city life, apparently longing for the quiet retirement of his native town. An occasional trip to London to renew professional associations there might serve to break the monotony of village calm, while now and then old comrades dropped in upon his leisure at New Place. Thus in prosperous ease the poet lived at Stratford until the year 1616. His earliest biographer, Nicholas Rowe, upon the authority of John Ward, parish minister, says that in the spring of that year Shakespeare was unwell ; that he left his bed unwisely to join in the convivial entertainment of guests from London, of whom one was Ben Jonson ; that a fever followed the merry-making, and that on the anniversary of his birth, April 23, he died. In our appreciation of Shakespeare's genius, we shake- should be careful to maintain a reasonable speare's attitude toward the great poet-dramatist of our literature. The impressiveness of these tremendous dramas combines with the traditions of three centuries of praise to exalt this man so high as to remove him utterly from the level of common men. Yet Shakespeare possessed no superhuman gifts. Such an attitude of extravagant sentiment is as unworthy of its object as is that of indifference or ignorance. In all particulars Shakespeare was emphatically human, — in endowments, in development, in responsiveness to the spirit of his age, in his business instincts, his professional ambitions, his personal conduct, especially HIS PLOTS 143 in broad, frank sympathy with his fellow men ; nor did the master enter into the rich heritage of his genius until he had fulfilled the conditions to which genius itself is subject ; Shakespeare, even, must learn his art. Upon the superficial faults in Shakespeare's style we do not need to pause : his inconsistent grammar, his obscurities of phrase, the errors in statement of fact, the anachronisms, the over-readiness to word-play, the hyperbole, the gross exaggeration, the TheArt bombast. Some of these faults were modified of shako- with maturity ; some of them were the com- speare - mon faults of the age and shared by his contempora- ries. His art was greater than these and is not affected by such casual defects. Shakespeare was not a 'constructor of plots — he bor- rowed. The historical plays are drawn from H is Holinshed and Hall, or from Plutarch's Lives. plots - The sources of King Lear r Macbeth, and Cymbeline are also in the chronicles. Most of the comedies, and several of the tragedies, are mere dramatizations of English and Italian romances. The Comedy of Er- rors owes its material to Plautus ; the Midsummer Night's Dream makes free use of Ovid. Two plays, Love's Labour 's Lost and The Tempest, have not yet been traced to any known original, although there are internal evidences that the stories of these also are from French or Italian romance. One play alone, The Merry Wives of Windsor, seems to have a plot wholly original with Shakespeare. Yet this statement reflects in no wise upon the integrity or even the originality of the poet's work ; rather it exalts his power in having been able thus to impart such extraordinary strength and life-likeness to characters devoid of these qualities in the hands of their first creators. In that field of composition which we call invention, Shakespeare was 144 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE weak. Not only are his plots thus borrowed, but the incidents which contribute to the action of the plays are often trivial, obviously artificial, and frequently in- adequate to serve as parts in the machinery of some great drama. The dramatic structure of the earlier plays is loose. Scene is carelessly added to scene, and there is not infrequently a lack of real organic unity and growth ; but after the poet reached the second period of his experience, this prime defect is overcome. lie learned to be a master of dramatic technique. In the interpretation of human motives and pas- His Char- sions, in the characterization of his dramatis acters. personce, Shakespeare is transcendent. He projects these men and woman absolutely outside his own personality. How perfectly individualized they are : Shylock and Iago, Harry Percy and Harry Mon- mouth, Portia of Belmont and Portia of Rome, Sir John Kalstaff and Sir Toby Belch, Launce and Launce- lot, the Fool in Twelfth Might and the Fool in Lear, Ophelia, Juliet, Desdemona, Perdita, and Rosalind; what variety in character and in motive for action. The proud integrity of Brutus is beguiled by the wily politician Cassius ; Othello's jealousy is inflamed by the villainous Iago ; on the other hand, Macbeth, pos- sessed by his wicked ambition, is hurried headlong through crime to his own disaster, while Lear, inno- cenl of guilt, is betrayed by his own willful folly. Ham- let falls a victim of circumstances and because of his inability to grapple with "outrageous fortune." Shake- speare's power in objective creation is without approach in literature. Two hundred and forty-six distinctly marked personalities have been counted in these plays, omitting those of doubtful authorship and those writ- ten in collaboration with others. 1 Shakespeare's por- 1 C. F. Johnson, Essentials of Literary Criticism. POET AND PHILOSOPHER 145 traitures are not untrue to life. His world is the world of romance, to be sure, rather than the world of realistic commonplace ; and in these representations of emotion, of passion, of guilt, remorse, despair, or of affection, devotion, sacrifice, repentance, reconciliation, there is an intensity of force, a crowding of details into moments, that naturally suggest an artificial rather than a realistic handling ; but this concentration of effect is incidental to the necessities of the stage, and indeed of all literary art, and includes a larger expres- sion of the truth than mere photographic transcripts of the more leisurely passages in ordinary life. We are to look upon Shakespeare as more than a playwright. In spirit as in form of expression he is a poet of the highest rank. The songs which are so richly strewn upon the dialogue of his scenes are lyrics of the finest order; but in the perfect im- Poetand agery of his comparisons, the exquisite pic- pmioso- tures of natural beauty, the superb sweep of p his splendid verse, his poetic power is as masterful as it is lavishly bestowed. In his view of life and his in- terpretation of the thoughts and actions of men, Shake- speare proves his right to a place among the sanest and wisest of philosophers. He reads men sympathetically and justly. " The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not ; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues," says one of the poet's moralizing counselors ; * and it is this recognition of mingled good and ill in human life and conduct, his perfect freedom from cant or preju- dice, as well as the uncompromising soundness of his ' First Lord in All '.s Well that Ends Well, Act IV. scene iii. 67. 146 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE moral judgment in the treatment of evil, that has made the great dramatist one of the great teachers of the world. " Dost thou think because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale ? " demands that in- dignant scapegrace, Sir Toby Belch, of the fanatical Malvolio ; 1 and we admit that Sir Toby is within the law : but our consciences applaud that profounder sen- timent, the ripened fruit of Shakespeare's maturer mind, to which he gives expression in The Tempest, subtlest of all his plays. Here Ariel, addressing the three men of sin, declares : — " The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures Against your peace. . . . Whose wraths to guard you from, — Which here in this most desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads, — is nothing, but heart-sorrow And a clear life ensuing." 2 Finally, it is fair to ask, did Shakespeare have a conscious moral purpose in the creation of his dramas ? Hla Such a theory is not sustained by a study purpose. f the plays. That a definite moral effect should be felt in these impressive compositions is in- evitable. The true artist dominates his work however objectively he may write ; he is still within as well as without the characters he creates. His ideals will not be wholly hidden ; and as he rouses sympathy with this success or with that defeat, so will he indicate the direction in which his judgment falls. One thing is sure : there is no allegory in Shakespeare's plays. His creatures are neither caricatures nor types; they are as truly real as though they were flesh and blood. Romeo, Othello, Hotspur, Hamlet, are not types pre- l Twelfth Night, Act II. scene iii. 105. 2 Act III. scene iii. BEN JONSON 147 senting passion of love, jealousy, rashness, indecision ; they are men, — men who are recognized as governed strongly by these qualities, yet moving with all. the freedom and uncertainty of men. The great drama- tist has himself avowed his only conscious purpose in that often quoted comment upon the ethics of his craft : — " The purpose of playing", whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to Nature, to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure." 1 This we may assume upon the authority of Shakespeare himself to have been the ideal of his art. Next to Shakespeare's name, that of Ben Jonson is best known in the list of those who were asso- _ T . # , Ben Jon- rial cd with the theatre in the time of Eliza- son,i573?- beth and James. Of all the dramatists con- tinuing after Shakespeare's death, he was the greatest. Jonson was born in London about 1573. His father was a clergyman ; but he had been a month dead when his son was born, and his mother marrying again, the boy had for stepfather a master bricklayer, who may have compelled him to learn that trade. He was edu- cated, however, in Westminster School, and then for a brief term at Cambridge. During his youth he had also enlisted as a soldier, and had been with the army in the Netherlands. But Ben Jonson was naturally a scholar, and soon betook himself to writing for the stage. His name is mentioned by Frances Meres 2 in 1598 as one of " our best for Tragedie." Much of his early work was done in collaboration with others. In 1598 he produced an excellent comedy, Every Man in his Humour, a play which Shakespeare is said to have secured for his own company, and in the presentation 1 Hamlet, Act III. scene iL 2 See page 75. 148 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE of which he certainly acted a part. In 1599 there followed a companion piece in Every Man out of his Humour ; the word humour in these titles being used in the sense of caprice, vagary, or hobby. Jonson wrote many masques for presentation at court. The masque was a form of drama elaborately arranged for spec- tacular effect; the subjects were usually mythological or took the form of allegory : the success of the masque was aided by beautiful costumes and ingenious me- chanical effects. In this form of composition Milton v too, employed his art (see page 184). Jonson was the author of two tragedies, Sejanus (1603) and Cati- line (1611) ; these dramas are characterized by an abundance of classical learning, but are cold and heavy. His most important comedies are Voljione, or the Fox (1605), Epicwne, or the Silent Woman (1609), and The Alchemist (1610) ; of which the last- named is regarded as a masterpiece. This play is re- markable for its very clever plot, and for the technical skill displayed in unfolding the details of the intrigue ; it is also a good example of Jonson's learning, for it is fairly crammed with the lore of alchemy, and of roguery as well. The relations existing between Jonson and Shake- speare are of particular interest. Although an d Jonson was indebted to Shakespeare, if tra- Shake- dition be true, for his introduction to the staae, speare. ' » ' he represented a different school of writing and a different dramatic ideal. Morever, it is stated that lie was jealous of the other's superior success, and that the two poets quarreled. Probably too much has been made of this latter statement, although of Jonson's irascible temper and quickness to take offense there is no doubt. But Jonson was a classical scholar, and was devoted to the models of the ancient stage ; he there- JONSON AND SHAKESPEARE 149 fore criticised the extravagance and license of dramatists like Marlowe and Shakespeare, whose methods he re- garded as antagonistic to the highest art. That there was, save in this regard, genuine and hearty sympathy between these two gifted men need not be doubted, nor that each was appreciative of the other's peculiar gifts. Thomas Fuller, who was born in 1608, and was well acquainted in his day with some who had been com- rades with these noted characters and had survived them, declares as follows : — " Many were the wit-combats betwixt him [Shakespeare] and Ben Jonson ; which two I beheld like a Spanish great galleon and an English man-of-war. Master Jonson, like the former, was built higher in learning ; solid, but slow in his performances ; Shakespeare, with the English man-of- war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention." * To the first folio edition of Shakespeare's plays, Ben Jonson contributed a poetical dedication of the book, which has furnished us with some of our most apt ex- pressions of appreciation concerning our great poet : — " Soul of the age ! The applause ! delight ! the wonder of oisr stage ! " " He was not of an age, hut for all time ! ' ' ' Sweet Swan of Avon ! what a sight it wrre To see thee in our waters yet appeare, And make those flights upon the bankes of Thames That so did take Eliza and our James ! ''' In a little volume of prose, to which he gave the fanciful name of Timber ; or Discoveries Made upon Men and Matter, Jonson gathered an interesting* col- lection of paragraphs on various topics : bits of wis- dom, epigrams, curious facts, criticism, brief essays, 1 Worthies of Warwickshire. 150 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE not unworthily compared to similar examples in Ba- con's works ; and there is one paragraph of comment on the hasty composition of Shakespeare which closes with this tribute : — " I loved the man and honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He was indeed honest, and of an open and free nature •, had an excellent phantasy, brave no- tions, and gentle expressions." Ben Jonson was the first officially appointed poet- laureate, although the title had been, by way of com- pliment, conferred upon several earlier poets. For some years he enjoyed prosperity, the poet-dramatist of the court, literary lion and dictator among the lesser writers, with whom the poet was extremely popular. Later he fell into misfortune ; he became involved in debt, paralysis attacked him, and in 1637 he died in poverty. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, and through the charity of a stranger it is said, a work- man was hired to cut the simple but suggestive epitaph which identifies his grave : " O Rare Ben Jonson." Of the dramatists contemporary with Shakespeare Beaumont anc ^ ^ en J° nson i Francis Beaumont (1584- and 1616) and John Fletcher (1579-1025) are famous for their literary partnership of long standing. Beaumont seems to have been intimate with Jonson, and Dryden declares that the latter regularly took his own compositions to Beaumont for criticism. To Beaumont and Fletcher is ascribed the joint author- ship of more than fifty plays ; although it is now cer- tain that the larger number were the work of Fletcher alone or in collaboration with other dramatists. It is known that Fletcher worked with Shakespeare upon the King Henry VIII. and, in all probability, upon The Tiro Noble Kinsmen^ which is sometimes included, as a doubtful play, with Shakespeare's works. SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 151 George Chapman (d. 1634), Thomas Dekker, Thomas Heywood, John Marston (1575-1634), Thomas Mid- dleton (1570-1627), John Webster, and Philip Mas- singer (1583-1638) were all employed with JLi w S 5 6 m greater or less success in contributing to the Drama- distinction of the English stage in the closing 8ts ' years of Elizabeth and during the reign of James. These men were contemporaries, comrades and rivals, professionally, with the great leaders of their craft. Some of them were university men ; most of them were strong intellectually and in artistic power ; but the over-topping genius of Shakespeare is never so con- spicuous as when his works are placed in contrast with theirs. After Shakespeare's time there followed a percep- tible decline in the drama. Not only was _ „ •> Decline there a loss of power among writers for the of the stage, but the growing spirit of the Puritan age- movement looked with less and less tolerance upon the increasine: license of the theatre. The more sober- minded had never favored it, and regarded this form of amusement with hostility. As the drama decayed, the stage fell into disrepute, and at the outbreak of civil war the theatres were closed altogether. In order to appreciate the real performance of Shake- speare and his influence upon the English stage, gugges- it would be best for the student to read one or tions for more of the pre-Shakespearian plays before be- ginning a study of the dramatist's own work. All study of the plays should be chronological. (The general subject of the chronology of the Shakespearian dramas is discussed in Dowden's valuable Shakespeare Primer.) One might well begin with a play of the first group, Love's Labour 's Lost. A Midsummer Night 's Dream may very well be studied in close connection with this comedy, and comparisons made between the two. 152 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE I. Love's Labour \s Lost. Sidney Lee, in his Life of Shakespeare, has noted many facts of interest concerning the names of the characters introduced. The story of this early play is slight, and no grave problems are involved. The sub- title, " a pleasant conceited comedy," adequately describes it. The situation and ensuing complications suggest comparison with the story of The Princess, by Tennyson. We should note how closely in this play the dramatist observes the ancient rule of " the unities " ; and if there is any doubt as to the significance of that rule, enjoined by Aristotle, it should be carefully studied. Very shortly Shakespeare broke away from this rule entirely, returning to it in The Tempest alone of all his maturer plays. A feature peculiar to this early group of dramas is the preponderance of rhyme. If one counts the rhymes in Love's Labour 's Lost, he will find that there are, in the dialogue of the play, twice as many rhym- ing verses as verses without rhyme. As the poet advanced in his work of composition, he gradually discarded this form of verse. An interesting comparison may be made in this respect with some late play, noting the gain in strength and beauty due to the change. Attention should be given to the diction. The extravagant use of word-play is objectionable. Lines like these are noticeable : " And then grace us in the disgrace of death." " Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these." " Of his Almighty dreadful little might:' " Do meet, as at a, fair, in her fair cheek." Such examples may be noted. There is some satire involved in the humor of the comedy ; the character of Don Armado, the fantastical Spaniard, is in- tended to present in some degree the grotesque style of the eupbuists in the extravagance of his comparisons, the strange figures used by him, the overwhelming frequency of allitera- tion and antithesis in his language ; for illustration, turn to Don Armado's speech at the end of Act I., and to the letter read by Boyet in Act IV. scene i. A similar style of diction, baidly less grotesque, is found, however, in several of the speeches addressed by the King and his companions. Indicate some of the passages in which Shakespeare makes serious use THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET Prince of Denmarke. BY William Shakespeare. Newly imprinted and enlarged to almoft as much againc as itwas,accordingto the true and perfect Coppy. AT LONDON, Printed Cot Tohn Smetbmcke andare to be fold at his fiioppe in Saint Dwtftons Church ycard in Flcetftreet. VndertheDiall.x6*ii. 154 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE of euphuistic language. In studying these superficial quali- ties of the play, its many heauties of expression, the charm- ing pictures of landscape and country scenery, the quality of the songs and other lyric passages should not be overlooked. Perhaps there are reminiscences here of Shakespeare's youth, which was not very far behind him, when he wrote of " . . . daisies pied and violets blue Aud lady smocks all silver white." What opportunity did the poet have, as a boy, to cultivate a taste for nature, and to gain intimate acquaintance with nature's ways ? In spite of the obvious unreality of the King's vow and subsequent developments, there is perceptible charm in the unfolding of this simple plot. Its freshness and vivacity are very taking. The sentiment never grows serious, although there are some conspicuous passages in the manner that later we call Shakespearian. This we find in the reply of the Princess to Boyet's labored compliment (II. i. 13) : — " Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise," and also in the words of Biron, following the announcement of the death of the King of France (V. ii. 743) : — " Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief." This is preeminently a comedy of wit. As illustrating the finer play of repartee, study the scene which contains the encounter of the Princess and her ladies with the gentle- men of the King's court (V. ii. 80-266). Compare with the spirit of this the coarser humor in the scenes which intro- duce the low-comedy characters of the sub-plot. Of the characters in this play, only two, Biron (pronounced Be-roon') and Rosaline, contain much promise of richness and power of imagination. It would be interesting to examine carefully the passages which make these personages preemi- nent, and to determine what artistic value Biron and Rosa- line possess. Notice the careful parallelism followed in the speeches of these and the other characters ; the pairing-off SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 155 of courtiers and ladies : is this a natural or an artificial adjustment of things ? Do you find such an orderliness in other of the early plays, — in the later ones, the tragedies, for example ? It will hardly be worth while to spend much time in examining the technique of this slight drama. It is put together loosely, and its only purpose is to supply a series of amusing incidents that appeal to eye and ear. The comic episodes introducing the Schoolmaster, the Curate, the Span- iard, the Fool, and the Boy (all typical characters of the older stage), and their attempt to present the interlude of the Nine Worthies, are very likely an inspiration, if not an actual reminiscence, of what Shakespeare had seen, about his home, in the efforts of village art. As representative comedies of the second period, we may take the Merchant of Venice and As You Like It. If there be opportunity for further study, the First Part of King Henry IV. and Twelfth Night should be added. II. The Merchant of Venice. Here we find the dramatist in much more serious mood. A reading of the play will reveal his growing maturity of mind and his pos- session of far greater power. As a beginning of the study, separate the two stories of the pound of flesh and the three caskets ; note the distinct separation of locality and setting in each. Now see how the two stories are bound together in the common plot : what are the links connecting them ? What is to be said of the elopement of Lorenzo and Jessica as a dramatic incident in this comedy ? The opening scene of the drama is felt to be significant in suggesting the tone of the action that follows : explain this somewhat. What do you consider the dramatic value of the fifth act? Is it superfluous, or has it some artistic use? Where is the point of climax in the story of Bassanio's for- tunes? Where the point of most intense interest in the misfortunes of Antonio ? Where occurs the first suggestion of Antonio's losses ? Point out the successive confirmations up to the moment of assurance. Where are we informed — and under what circumstances — that the argosies are safe ? 156 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE Is there any way to account for the false rumors of their loss ? Who is the hero of this drama ? Which character inter- ests you most ? Make a special study of " Old Shylock." What motives for his persecution of Antonio do you find in his own words (I. iii. and III. i.), — in Antonio's words (III. iii.) ? What are his relations to the Christians, — to his household, — to his nation ? Do you find any justifica- tion for the Jew in his hatred, — or grounds for sympathy with him in his defeat ? How do you regard the conclusion of the trial-scene, — is it just ? Study the personality of Portia. What are the prominent traits in her character ? What do you think of her interpretation of the law, — of her plea for mercy ? Is Portia maidenly ? Does she obey the spirit of her father's will ? Was there any reasonableness in such a will ? Describe Antonio ; Bassanio ; Launcelot Gobbo. Cite some descriptive passages which especially please you. Do you find material for quotation here ? Is there any more of realism, in this play than in Love's La- bour 's Lost ? Wherein do the essential differences lie ? What makes this play, so serious in motive, a comedy ? III. As You Like It. Here again we have an inter- weaving of two stories in the creation of a double plot, an arrangement attractive to Shakespeare. Frederick's jeal- ousy and banishment of Rosalind is paralleled in Oliver's ill treatment of Orlando. The love of Orlando and Rosalind is the motive which unites the threads and gives unity to the plot as a whole. As in Love's Labour 's Lost, there is a comic sub-plot in the wooing of Audrey by William and Touchstone, duplicated in the courtship of Phoebe by Silvius. Study the grouping of all these characters, and follow their relations throughout the action. Compare the personalities of Rosalind and Portia ; Orlando and Bassanio ; Touchstone and Launcelot Gobbo. The character of Biron is sometimes taken as the prototype of Jaques ; Rosaline is also compared with Rosalind: what resemblance do you see? Compare the three scenes in the first act in As You Like It with the corresponding scenes in The Merchant of Venice. SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 157 Study the dramatic structure of these scenes : note those sec- tions which merely explain the situation : the lines which indicate the beginning and progress of the action, — for example, the quarrel between Orlando and Oliver, and the suggestions which lead to the wrestling-match ; also the points in Bassanio's narrative that occasion Antonio's re- solve. What similarity do you observe in Shakespeare's introduction of these two heroines ? Follow the details of the action which brings Rosalind and Orlando together. What resemblance is there between Rosalind's fortunes and those of Orlando ? What passages in the first act of each play are devoted to characterization ? Notice the contrast in the tone of these two plays as suggested by these opening acts ; and the couplets which complete the act in both. Do you see any significance in the localization of Arden and Belmont ? It is impossible to find their counterparts on any map ; each is a place of retreat from the confused world of strife in which these people are first discovered, and where their fortunes become complicated and intolera- ble. In Belmont is arranged the plan by which Antonio's predicament is resolved ; Portia's gardens are associated with music, moonlight, and the peaceful happiness of love. Ar- den, the home of shepherds, is an asylum for the exiles, a rendezvous for those who are in trouble ; here their fortunes are bettered and their wrongs righted. Such retreats are often found in the Elizabethan romance, of which Lodge's Rosalind is a type. This pretty romance, from which Shakespeare took the story of his comedy, should be read in connection with the play ; it is found entire in some of the editions of the drama, and may be had for ten cents in Cas- selVs National Library. Again take note of such passages as particularly impress with their beauty. Commit to mem- ory the speech of the Duke (II. i. 1-16) and Jaques's famous allegory, " All the world 's a stage " (II. vii. 139). IV. Julius Caesar. In reading this play, the student should, if possible, compare the lives of Caesar, Brutus, and Mark Antony as given by Plutarch, using a copy of North's translation, which was the version used by Shakespeare as 158 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE the source of his material. He will he surprised at the poet's close adherence to the text of Plutarch. The opening scene should he examined with reference to its indications of what is to follow, as well as of what has passed. After the play has heen read and the plot mastered, the reader should study the dramatist's treatment of " the mightiest Julius" — as he terms him elsewhere. 1 What reason is there why Caesar's name rather than that of Brutus should form the title of the play ? Analyze the portraiture. Wherein does hoastfulness appear, — superstition, — weak- ness, — strength ? Is there ground for such a conception of this character in history ? What significance do you detect in the appearance of Caesar's ghost in Act. V., — in the last words spoken by Cassius and Brutus ? Now study the characterization of Brutus, comparing him throughout with Cassius. What expressions in the first en- counter of the two suggest that Brutus is already prepared to oppose Caesar? Wherein does his humane spirit reveal itself ? Wherein his impulsive temperament ? AVhat argu- ment most appeals to Brutus in moving him to join the con- spiracy ? In what respect is Cassius superior to Brutus, — in what inferior ? Note well Antony's tribute to the integrity of Brutus. Where was Brutus's mistake ? Analyze the portraiture of Antony. What are the real reasons for his success ? Do you feel that he is honest in his protestations of affection ? The subsequent career of this youth, as depicted in Antony and Cleopatra, should be fol- lowed in this connection. The portrait of Portia is a masterpiece. Less than one hundred lines are spoken by this character, yet it is as dis- tinct and strong as any that Shakespeare ever created. Por- tia, like Brutus, is a stoic, yet note how her wifely affection . and fears assert themselves in the scene with Lucius (II. iv.). None of Shakespeare's other plays is so filled with fine declamatory passages as this ; their dignity and stateliness 1 Hamlet, I. i. 114. Compare other allusions to Julius Cwsar in the plavs : Ham. V. i. ; A. Y. L. I. V . ii. j II. K. II. IV. I. i. ; K. H. V. V. ; K. Rich. III. III. i. etc. SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 159 are most impressive. A careful reading will fix them easily in memory. The Great Tragedies. Of the principal tragic dra- mas, two may be selected for special study, although all must be read by one who wishes to know the power of Shakespeare. Here his genius is absolute. The element in tragedy which rouses human interest is not the sadness of disaster, but the thrilling effect of the struggle which domi- nates the action ; the hero must contend. The Greeks termed the hero of tragedy the protagonist ; and hence Milton names his dramatic poem, modeled after the ancient drama, Samson Agonistes, — the struggling Samson. In tragedy the «7^agonizing force is stronger than the hero, and the drama ends in catastrophe and defeat. Now in the noblest form of tragedy our interest is centred not on a mere phys- ical struggle, but on a mental conflict. This is the case in each of the two plays chosen : in Hamlet we have a strug- gle against temperament and circumstance ; in Macbeth, a conflict between the forces of good and ill in a human soul. The one is the tragedy of a scholar ; the other of a soldier. V. Hamlet. The tragedy of Hamlet is commonly re- garded as Shakespeare's masterpiece. None of his plays is more popular on the stage ; none other contains so many prob- lems for the critic and the interpreter. Volumes have been written upon the character of the Prince, but the mystery of Hamlet is the old and sacred mystery of personality which must ever baffle the most acute. Hamlet's story begins with the soliloquy (I. ii.) that shows his deep dejection over his mother's o'er-hasty marriage. In this frame of mind he hears from Horatio the report of the apparition. Note the effect of Horatio's story on Hamlet : would you think that the latter suspects any crime ? What expressions here and in scene v. enforce this probability ? Notice carefully the Ghost's words to Hamlet, and their effect. Especially signi- ficant is Hamlet's declaration (I. v. 29-31), which forms the starting-point of the action, which is ever the purpose of Hamlet's soul, and which, in the tragic irony of his fate, he is never to fulfill. Notice the force of lines 85, 86 : — 160 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE " Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught." Note the perturbed condition of Hamlet's mind in the rest of the scene, and also his hinted purpose in lines 170, 180. Act II. emphasizes Hamlet's dilatoriness. How swift was to be his flight to revenge ; yet nothing has been done, although the ambassadors sent to Norway (I. ii.) have made the journey, performed their mission, and here are present to report (II. ii.). The " antic disposition " assumed by the Prince is exhibited in the dialogue with Polonius (lines 170- 216), but is quickly laid aside in the conversation with Ro- sencrantz and Guildenstern (lines 220-370). Particularly interesting is Hamlet's discourse with the players (lines 409-530) ; then, most important of all, comes the soliloquy which closes the act. Hamlet's indecision is the fatal weak- ness which develops all the tragedy of the play. The third act is always a point of intense interest in the serious drama. Here is the crisis of the action, the turning- point, or the opportunity for one. In the great third act of this tragedy, there are four scenes of vital importance. In the first Hamlet breaks with Ophelia ; it is the crisis in her career. The apparent harshness of the Prince is for a kindly purpose ; his counsel, " Get thee to a nunnery," is honest and sound. There is a sharper tone when Hamlet has a glimpse of Claudius with Polonius spying at his back ; this is coin- cident with the question, "Where's your father?" The second scene is the most spectacular one in the drama ; the climax in the cry of the guilty king for "lights," and his evident discomfiture, leave Hamlet no possible pretext of doubt upon which to base his indecision. In the following scene, quiet in comparison with the preceding, we have, nevertheless, the important crisis of the drama. Now Ham- let has his opportunity to kill Claudius, and yet he hesitates. As to the soundness of Hamlet's speculation, which disarms his purpose, the king's own comment is sufficiently clear (linos 07, 98) ; Claudius is a better theologian than is the young Wittenberg student, on this occasion at least. But the guilty king is passing his crisis also, — morally ; con- SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 161 science has stabbed him to the point of true repentance, con- fession, and the abandonment of the fruits of crime, and there he halts. Scene iv. is intensely pathetic. Here Gertrude learns the truth regarding her own frailty ; and her con- science is pricked also, — in vain. Again the Ghost appears to whet the almost blunted purpose of the Prince, and to interpose between distracted mother and more distracted son, — " nor let thy soul contrive against thy mother aught ! " Act IV. brings no accomplishment of Hamlet's purpose. In the fourth scene his fault is set before him in a striking manner. The reader now should turn back to previous scenes in which reference is made to Norway and to For- tinbras : what then appeared as slight and disconnected incidents now take on significance in Hamlet's remarkable so- liloquy (IV. iv. 32-66). Note the contrast between these princes. Why, else, this audible tramp of foreign soldiery, this ever-recurring hint of the vigorous, combative, hot- blooded Norwegian? Laertes and Fortinbras, impulsive, passionate, are the natural foils to Hamlet, and emphasize his considerate moderation. Laertes, spoiled by his Paris training, yields to most foul temptation (his own suggestion), and covers his name with everlasting disgrace, himself a victim of his own contemptible plot. Fortinbras, on the other hand, always manly, always prince-like, — though scarcely more than the shadow of his presence falls across the stage, — redeems the spirit of the tragedy, and at last, by Hamlet's voice, assumes the Danish crown. The last act opens with a strange, grotesquely comic scene, the only low-comedy in the drama, except that furnished by Hamlet's encounters with Polonius. Yet its entire effect is impressive : why ? What can be said for the congruities of such an interlude in such connection ? Note Hamlet's char- acteristic mood in his meditation upon Y^orick's skull. What significance in his sudden fierce quarrel with Laertes in the grave ? What is his probable feeling for Ophelia ? Notice the foreboding expressed by Hamlet in the second scene, — his apparent fatalism. Study the effective composition of the catastrophe ; enumerate the successive incidents. What 162 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE appropriateness is there in the injunction laid upon Horatio ? Has Hamlet obeyed the Ghost's command 3 This brief comment should suggest other lines of analysis in the interpretation of Shakespeare's Prince. The ques- tion of Hamlet's sanity may be considered, but after all that is a problem subordinate to the dramatic idea of the play. More profitable is it to follow the real tragic line of the drama found in the situation of a hero, responsible, yet by training and temperament unfitted to play his part : — " The time is out of joint, — O cursed spite That ever I was born to set it right ! " (I. v. 189.) Special attention should be directed to all of Hamlet's soliloquies. In the soliloquy the dramatist always reveals the inmost thought of his character ; these utterances are confidential and sincere. The famous passage beginning " To be, or not to be " (III. i. 56) is a case in point. The Prince of Denmark is never nearer the heart of his own tragic history than in lines 83-88. Here is the key to his character. Again he touches it in the soliloquy, IV. iv. 40- 46. It should be noted also that this royal youth is not only the centre of all that moves in the great drama — he is practically alone amid the forces that are arrayed against him. Who are the antagonizing characters in this play ? Should not Ophelia be numbered with them ? On the other hand, who are with Hamlet ? Marcellus, Bernardo, do not count ; the players are only the instrument in his hand. The Ghost is not unfriendly, but cannot be looked upon as a cham- pion or a coadjutor. It does not come to bring a father's comfort, but appears, a dread visitant of terror, to goad Hamlet to his task. Horatio, Hamlet's only confidant, is a student like himself — no more than Hamlet a man of action. The only positive service that he can render to his friend is to absent himself from felicity awhile, and in this harsh world draw his breath in pain to tell Lord Hamlet's story. All the characters in this play call for study. Claudius, experienced, shrewd, desperate, under the burden of his guilt : what are the indications of his attitude toward Ham- SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 163 let ? Gertrude, guiltless of murder, but weak and morally degraded by her infatuation with her husband's slayer. Polo- nius, a worldly-wise, conceited, meddlesome old man : whence has he the counsel which he administers with such unction to Laertes ? What is the real spirit of his advice ? It is his preference " by indirections, to seek directions out " (II. i. 66). Notice his method toward his son and daughter. Is it not his genius for spying that brings his death ? Laertes is the type of courtier appropriate to Elsinore ; contrast the influence of Paris with that of Wittenberg. What contrary motives bring Laertes and Horatio to the court ? Pursue the contrast between Laertes and Hamlet in the event of a father's death. Ophelia is a pathetic rather than a tragic heroine. She is foredoomed to suffer. Too weak of will to attempt a single struggle, she buries her love in hopelessness and sub- mits to be made a tool. Yet in character she is blameless, an innocent victim of harsh circumstance. Grief completely destroys her reason ; she is not responsible for her death. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are mere echoes of the court ; shallow characters, they might exchange their names and no one be the wiser. Willing tools, they are most cleverly dispatched by their own frailty and by Prince Hamlet's superior cunning. The Ghost is a most important factor in the play. It is an intensely poetical conception — this shadowy protest of the dead against the unhindered pros- perity of guilt. Shakespeare's introduction of supernatural visitants is always interesting, but never elsewhere so im- pressive as here. In Richard III., Julius Ccesar, Macbeth, they appear, mere momentary apparitions ; but here, in royal dignity and kingly mien, old Hamlet's perturbed spirit walks — not to affright the murderer, not to awaken pity, or to foretell defeat, but to disabuse the ear of Denmark and chal- lenge justice against a usurper of the crown. An added interest attaches to this creation because Shakespeare played the part himself, and it was reckoned the " top of his per' formance." VI. Macbeth. Like Hamlet, this is a romantic tragedy, in which the dramatist introduces a supernatural element in 164 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE the part played by the Weird Sisters, as well as in the appa- rition of Banquo's ghost. Notice the wonderful poetry of this play : point out passages which the fancy of the poet has made rich with imagery. Note the sweep and rush of the movement, the inexorable rapidity of the action. How does the opening scene prepare for the story of evil that fol- lows ? Study the action of the drama in this diagram : — Murder of Banquo. Possession of Crown. Arousing of Macduff. II. IV. Murder of Duncan. Retreat to Dunsinane. I. The Weird Sisters. It will be seen that the crisis of the play is in the murder of Banquo : why should this incident, rather than the mur- der of King Duncan, form the dramatic crisis ? What simi- larity in the two murders first rouses general suspicion against Macbeth ? What is the full significance of Fleance's escape ? Now point out how Macbeth's successive acts of tyranny conduce to his own downfall. Especially study the Macduff motive : how has Macbeth prepared an avenger of his own wicked deeds ? Make a similar examination of his intercourse with the Weird Sisters. Show how ironically their predictions serve to betray their victim. In analyzing the character of Macbeth, two problems are to be considered: (1) his relation to the Weird Sisters; (2) his relation to Lady Macbeth. Upon the solution of these two problems rests the question of Macbeth's moral responsibility for his crimes. First, is it the salutation of SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 165 these strange creatures on the Masted heath that suggests the murder of King Duncan ? Study the immediate effect of their prediction on Macbeth. Why, do you think, does he say, " Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more," — and again, " Would they had staid " ? What significance do you find in the conversations with Lady Macbeth, scenes vi. and vii. ? It is well to inquire how far into the future these mysterious beings really see, and to what extent they are actually able to predict. The invocation of Lady Mac- beth to the " murthering ministers " who in their " sightless substances " wait on nature's mischief is apparently addressed to them. They are by no means witches in the vulgar appli- cation of that word ; rather does the number and the char- acter of these apparitions connect them in some sort with the Fates. The older meaning of the word wyrd was fate. They may indicate the subtle intent of Macbeth's half-con- scious purpose ; their power seems to be only over those who are evilly inclined ; they seem to understand the thought of their victim, to harp his own imaginings, and to lure him on in the direction of his desires, encouraging him to attempt the course he is inclined to follow. Compare Genesis iv. 7 : " If thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door." Secondly, as to the' other problem ; it should be noted that Lady Macbeth is not so much a foil to her husband as a complement ; she is not used for the purpose of contrast so much as to supply his defect. It is possible to interpret her character as that of a woman selfishly ambitious to be queen, inciting her husband to a crime, and goading him on to the murder ; in which case we must consider her the incarna- tion of all cruelty and wickedness, a fiend in woman's form. We may, on the other hand, interpret her action as based on her love for Macbeth, and find a motive for her obvious wickedness in the desire that he may possess the utmost fruit of his ambition. Which interpretation seems more just ? The former was long held to be correct ; the latter has more advocates now. In studying her character, note the signs of weakness which develop immediately after the murder of the king. Why does not Macbeth disclose to his wife his plans 1G6 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE for the murder of Banquo ? What indications of tender feel- ing do you find shown by Lady Macbeth in her effort to protect her husband on the appearance of Banquo's ghost ? Study both these characters with reference to their ex- pression before the murder of Duncan and afterward. What remarkable exchange of character do you discover in this double development ? Particularly note the desperate force displayed by Macbeth as his doom approaches. The character of Banquo is in admirable contrast to that of the Thane. Point out some of the differences between these two men. Do not fail to note the intense pathos of the passage wherein Macduff learns of his bereavement (IV. iii. 200-240). Read the account of the real Macbeth as given by Holin- shed, and included in many of the introductions to the play. In what way has Shakespeare enlarged his theme to the point of universality in its application ? What, to your mind, is the moral purpose of this play ? Note. So much for the suggested lines of study in the plays recommended. Nothing has been said about textual criticism, investigation of sources, the helps and hindrances of commentators ; very little concerning the philosophy or ethics involved. The purpose has been briefly to suggest some direction of the thought that may lead unconsciously to a degree of appreciation for the spirit of these great compositions, and a feeling for the art of the great drama- tist who wrought them. Further details of analysis in inter- pretation and technique may better be left to a more mature and disciplined age. If possible, the reading of the plays should be continued until all the important comedies and tragedies have been in- eluded. A special study should be made of the historical plays, which form a group by themselves ; these are of greater value than is commonly realized. Taken together these Eng- lish "histories" cover the period of the great civil wars, which we call the Wars of the Roses. As a series, far from exultant in tone, they seem to sound the refrain, " Lest we forget, lest we forget ! " Their theme is nationality, and SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 167 their warning against discord is most impressive. King John, King Henry V., and Richard III. are especially rec- ommended. Of the hundreds of volumes hearing upon Shakespeare and his works, these few are mentioned as helpful and Books that generally easy of access. Of editions, those de- may be used voting a single volume to a play, with introduc- tion and notes, are most desirahle. The texts edited by William J. Rolfe (American Book Co.) are popular; those edited by Henry N. Hudson (Ginn) are also standard ; the most modern texts of this character are in the Arden Edition (Heath), and the arrangement of this edition is admirable. The plays Julius Ccesar, As You Like It, Merchant of Venice, Hamlet, Macbeth, are included in the Riverside Literature Series (Houghton, Mifflin and Company). These are carefully edited and inexpensive. The authori- tative text of Shakespeare's plays is that of the Cambridge Shakespeare (9 vols.), edited by William Aldis Wright. The Henry Irving Edition (Scribner) will be found a con- venience in " cutting " plays for school presentation, portions unnecessary to the action being indicated. The Variorum Edition (Lippincott), by H. H. Furness (twelve plays now published), is a monument to American scholarship in this field. All material of importance has here been collected, and all the variations of text are noted. Abbott's Shakespearian Ch'ammar (Macmillan), Schmidt's Shakespeare Lexicon, and Mrs. C. O Clarke's Concordance to Shakespeare are standard books of reference. The Life of William Shakespeare, by Sidney Lee (Mac- millan, 1899), is the best biography of the dramatist. The Outlines for a Life of Shakespeare, by J. O. Halli well-Phi 1- lipps, is valuable for reference ; it contains a mass of informa- tion, carefully gleaned, connected directly or indirectly with its subject. Biography and criticism are mingled in many books. Among the most useful are Hudson's Life, Art, and Characters of Shakespeare (Ginn), Shakespeare, His Mind and Art, by Edward Dowden (Harper's), and a most service- able Shakespeare Primer, by the same author. Gervinus 1G8 FROM CHAUCER TO SHAKESPEARE and Ulrici are the most important German commentators on Shakespeare, and their criticism is often valuable. . Five Lectures on Shakespeare, by B. ten Brink (Holt), contains much that is suggestive. Of the French critics, Taine and Victor Hugo may he referred to. G. Brandes, the Danish scholar, has produced A Critical Study of the poet. Mrs. Jameson's Characteristics of Women is excellent in the in- terpretation of Shakespeare's heroines. For the technical study of the dramas, R. G. Moulton's Shakespeare as a Dra- matic Artist (Clarendon Press) is very helpful. In this field, Freytag's Technique of the Drama, and the compact volume on The Drama by Elizabeth Woodbridge (Allyn & Bacon), are also excellent. Ilolfe's Shakespeare, the Boy (American Book Co.) is an interesting sketch of the manners and condition of the times. William Shakespeare, Poet, Dramatist, and Maw, by H. W. Mabie (Macmillan, 1900), contains beautiful and valu- able illustrations, which throw considerable light upon the age and its ways. Read Great Englishmen of the XVI Century, by Sidney Lee. 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The Last of the Elizabethans : Francis Bacon. II. The Puritan Movement: John Milton. III. Seventeenth Century Lyrics. IV. The Restoration : John Bunyan, John Dryden. I. THE LAST OF THE ELIZABETHANS : BACON. It has, perhaps, been noted that the term Eliza- bethan, as used to designate an epoch in the history of our literature, is allowed to include much more than the reign of that remarkable queen. It was in the thir- teenth year of King James that Shakespeare died, and Jonson lived until the twelfth of Charles I. Lesser contemporary dramatists, poets, and prose writers — many of whom cannot be mentioned in this work — are still described as Elizabethans. Even Milton is some- times included in the group, although removed by more than a generation from the period in which most of these men flourished : but the likeness in tone, the qual- ity of the verse, and the sweep of a great imagination — these characteristics are the distinctive marks of an Elizabethan writer ; not the precise limits of a definite area of time. Next to the dramas of Shakespeare, the prose works Francis of Francis Bacon are regarded as contributing ^g° n> most to the glory of Knglish literature in the 1626. age of Elizabeth and James. Bacon repre- sents the intellectual type of that age ; dispassionate in EARLY LIFE 171 judgment, coldly impartial even in his friendships, he practically applied his talents to gathering up all the fruits of scholarship, and in a tone itself resonant of his time, declared in a letter to Lord Burghley that he had taken all knowledge to be his province. This son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal of England, was born at York Early House in the Strand, London, January 22, Life - 1561. His mother was a zealous Calvinist, strict and stern. The boy was precocious, and bore himself with such an air of gravity that Elizabeth, visiting his father, called him her little Lord Keeper. At twelve years of age Francis Bacon entered Trinity College, at Cam- bridge, remaining at the University till the end of 1575. In the year following he began to study law at Gray's Inn. Admitted to the bar in 1582, he entered Parlia- ment in 1584, representing the district of Melcombe, later sitting for Middlesex. During this period of his life Bacon was following the unpleasant and rarely profitable career of a suitor for royal patronage. His progress was slow. The famous Burghley, Elizabeth's prime minister, was his uncle ; but from his hand the young solicitor received no favor. Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, the generous patron of Edmund Spen- ser, one of the most admired and also one of the most irresponsible of courtiers, was now the special favorite of the queen : to him Bacon turned for assistance. With the aid of Essex, he tried to secure an appoint- ment to the office of Solicitor-General in 1593, and was disappointed ; but the liberality of his patron was shown in a gift of the beautiful estate of Twickenham Park, whither Bacon retired for a while to rest and study. In 1597 appeared the first edition of the Es- says, ten in number. The relations between Bacon and Essex furnish one 172 FROM BACON TO DRY DEN of the problems in an analysis of Bacon's character, The Earl while the results which developed out of of Essex. those relations have much to do with the shadow which rests on this great author's fame. The Earl was six years younger than the man whom he had befriended, impulsive and headstrong as he was bril- liant. In all honesty Francis Bacon seems to have done his best to tone down and to rectify the careless temper of his patron, and in vain. Essex, in spite of Eliza- beth's indulgent kindness, at last became so involved in his folly that he fell liable to charges of treason, and in 1601 was brought to trial. In the process of the case Bacon appeared — unwillingly, as he declared - and as Queen's Counsel presented the argument against the Earl with such precision that only one event became possible : Essex was beheaded. Bacon accepted X1200 from the fines imposed on Essex's estate, and justified his conduct in the affair by a published defense in which he asserts that the mainte- nance of the State is superior to the ties of friendship. In 1607 Bacon's ability finally received suitable re- under cognition ; he was made Solicitor-General. James i. \ u 1613 ne became Attorney-General; four years later he was appointed Lord Keeper of the Seal, and in 1618 rose to his highest office as Chancellor of England, lie received the title of Baron Verulam, and afterward was made Viscount of St. Albans. For three years Francis Bacon enjoyed all the privileges and honors of his high position. His manner of liv- ing was that of a prince ; his magnificence became proverbial. At the same time his devotion to study had never been forgotten ; his philosophical work, the Novnm Organurn, or The New Method^ appeared in 1620, and Bacon was recognized as the foremost scholar of his time. At the beginning of 1621 he was at the BACON'S FALL 173 summit of his prosperity, and then came one of the most notable reverses of fortune which ever overtook a man of fame. The career of the Chancellor had been a brilliant one. A long accumulation of untried suits had been disposed of, and there seem to have been no Bacon's complaints of injustice against the court. But Fal1 - Bacon had powerful enemies nevertheless, and at their instigation charges were sent to the Lords, by the House of Commons, affirming that the Chancellor was taking bribes. This was in March. Committees were appointed to investigate. Witnesses declared that bribes had been accepted, specifying sums of £300, £400, and £1000. Bacon fell ill ; he offered no de- fense. " My Lords," he said to those who had been sent to ask if his written confession was to stand, " it is my act, my hand, my heart. I beseech your Lord- ships be merciful to a broken reed." Bacon's punish- ment was announced in April. It was ordered that he be fined £40,000, be imprisoned during the sov- ereign's pleasure, and be banished forever from both Parliament and court. The fine was remitted, and Bacon was released from the Tower in June. He was fully pardoned by the king in September, but never participated again in public affairs. The disgrace of Lord Bacon was the fruit rather of a bad system than of deliberate crime. The bribes were always referred to as " presents," and it had been long the custom for high officials to accept gifts from those who had causes before them. It has never been shown that Bacon's decisions were influenced by these means. The pathetic side of the affair is most impres- sive. " All rising to great place is by a winding stair," said Francis Bacon, the philosopher, in his essay Of Great Place ; " the standing is slippery and the re- 174 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN gress is either a downfall or, at least, an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing." And when writing Of Wis- dom for a Mans Self, he had said : " They [sui amantes] become in the end themselves sacrifices to the inconstancy of fortune, whose wings they thought by their self- wisdom to have pinioned." In his fall Bacon remained preeminently the philosopher. He appears to have had no thought of evil in the accept- ance of the presents ; yet when the charges had been formulated, he accepted their conclusions without a protest. Very significant of the temper of the man is his remarkable declaration : " I was the justest judge that was in England these fifty years ; but it was the justest censure in Parliament that was these two hun- dred years." The rest of Bacon's life passed in retirement and study with his family at Gorhambury, near St. Al- ciosing bans. He enlarged the number of his Essays, compiled a History of King Henry VII., wrote a philosophical romance somewhat on the lines of Utopia, entitled TJic Nero Atlantis, and further elabo- rated his system of philosophic study. He finally came to his death as a result of his devotion to science. Desiring to test the usefulness of snow as a preserva- tive of flesh, he caught a severe cold in the process of the experiment, a fever followed, and on April 9, 1626, Francis Bacon died. He was buried at St. Albans. Bacon's fame as a scholar is associated with his advo- Thein- cacy of the inductive method in scientific pliSll Btud y- The s y stem of Aristotle, called the phy. deductive system, which by speculation enun- ciated certain principles, in accordance with which cer- tain facts were supposed to harmonize, had been the common method of the schoolmen. To this method of study Bacon was opposed, and had left the University NOVUM ORGANUM 175 with some contempt for the older system of thought. In his philosophical work he taught the necessity of beginning with facts, experimenting until the scholar should be certain of his data, and then proceeding to reason out the principles and ideas which they em- bodied. Bacon was by no means an inventor of the inductive system, but through his insistence upon this method of study he did contribute greatly to all sub- sequent advance in science. He called men to study nature directly, and demonstrated the value of experi- ment. In the application of his own theories he achieved little of importance. Although he described heat as a mode of motion, and was familiar with some of the principles of light transmission, he seems not to have been acquainted with Harvey's discovery of the circulation of the blood, and he rejected the theories of Copernicus. Upon the Novum Organum Bacon concentrated all his thought. The work was written in Latin, N 0Vum because that was the language of scholars — Organum. " the universal language," as it was called : and Bacon shared in the opinion of his age that anything to en- dure must needs be put in the Latin tongue. In 1605 he had written an essay upon The Advancement of Learning ; this was afterward elaborated in Latin under the title De Augmentis Scientiarum, and serves as the general introduction to Bacon's great treatise which was to be called the Instauratio Magna Scien- tiarum, of which the Novum Organum forms the sec- ond and most valuable part. The conclusion of this work, in which the author planned to formulate his philosophy, was never reached. Bacon's Essays should be studied by every intelligent reader. The form and style are unique ; but these qualities 17G FROM BACON TO DRYDEN are subordinate to the pungent truth and gathered store _ of wisdom that they contain. The term essay was tions for borrowed, probably, from Montaigne, who in study. 158() published his Essais. In his De Aug- mentis Scientiarum Macon speaks thus: "I would have all topics which there is frequent occasion to handle . . . studied and prepared beforehand ; and not only so, but the case exaggerated both ways with the utmost force of the wit, and urged unfairly as it were and quite beyond the truth. And the best way of making such a collection, with a view to use as well as to brevity, would be to con- trast these commonplaces into certain acute and concise sentences ; to be as skeins, or bottoms, of thread which may be unwinded at large when they are wanted. ... A few instances of the thing, having a great many by me, I think fit to propound by way of example. I call them Antitheses of Things." The first edition of the Essays appeared in 1597 ; there were ten of them. In the dedication to bis brother Bacon calls them "the new half -pence, which though the silver were good, the pieces were small." A second edition appeared in 1612 and the number had been increased to forty. The final edition, published in 1625, included fifty-eight. In his dedication to Buckingham the author expresses his hope that " the Latin volume of them (being in the universal language) may last as long as books last." For special study let the student take the twelve essays upon Truth, Revenge, Adversity, En vy, Love, Great Place, Travel, Wisdom for a Man's Self, Friendship, Discourse. Gardens, Studies. See if any regular plan of arrangement can be found ; note the method of introduction, then consider the " unwinding." Outline some of these essays according to the topics discussed. What is the form of conclusion ? Notice the vocabulary used : are there many obsolete terms. scientific terms, foreign terms ? Describe the sentences : are they sbort rather than long ? Count the words in the briefest sentences, those in the longest ; compare the aver- age sentence with that of some earlier writer. How does SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 177 Bacon construct his sentences ? are they loose or periodic ? are there many balanced sentences ? How are the para- graphs made up ? What figures of speech appear most frequently ? Examine the illustrations. Do you find the expression clear ? Describe in your own words the quality of Bacon's style. What can you say of the thought ? Wherein do you find reflections that bear on the author's own experience ? Study particularly such brief passages as these : — " Virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when they are incensed or crushed : for prosperity doth best discover vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue." — Adversity. " A crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love." — Friendship. " A man that hath no virtue in himself ever envieth vir' tue in others." — Envy. " Certainly men in great fortunes are strangers to them- selves." — Great Place. " It is a poor centre of a man's actions, — himself." — Wisdom for a Marts Self. Consider passages from Bacon's remarks concerning his own purposes and ideals, like the following (translated by Spedding from the Latin proem to a treatise on The Inter- pretation of Nature) : — " Believing that I was born for the service of mankind, and regarding the care of the Commonwealth as a kind of common property which, like the air and water, belongs to everybody, I set myself to consider in what way mankind might be best served, and what service I was myself best fitted to perform." In the light of your reading how would you interpret the character of Francis Bacon ? What seems to have been his estimate of human nature, — his integrity, — his wisdom ? The authority upon Bacon's life and the editor of his works is James Spedding ; the complete edition of Bacon's Works, edited by Spedding, Ellis, and Heath, is published by Houghton, Mifflin and Company ; also a popular edition 178 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN in two volumes, based upon the former. The biography of Bacon by R. W. Church, in English Men of Letters Series, is brief and serviceable. Macaulay's Essay on Bacon is a classic, but not a satisfactory study of its subject. Minto's Manual of English Prose (Ginn) contains much helpful material upon Bacon's composition. Fairly reflecting the spirit of the Elizabethan age Minor Prose are the prose works of Robert Burton (1577- wnters. 1640) and of Sir Thomas Browne (1605- 82), although the lives of these two men extend ob- viously beyond the natural limits of the age. Burton's curious volume — a classic in its kind — entitled The Anatomy of Melancholy, was inspired, doubtless, by the works of Francis Bacon. It is a singular collection of the lore of melancholy : discursive, amusing, quasi- scientific in character, learned and gossipy by turns. It appeared in 1621. Of more dignified tone and richer in its style is the Religio Medici, or The Reli- gion of a Physician, by Sir Thomas Browne, pub- lished in 1643. The author, a graduate of Oxford, who had traveled widely and had taken his degree in medicine at Leyden, was a man of distinguished learn- ing and rare wisdom. His admirable book he intended for his own " private exercise ; " " the intention was not publick." It is really a confession of faith, and re- veals a mind fond of the mystical side of the spiritual life, tolerant of others' views ; the style of the work is stately and of great beauty. Of Browne's later essays that upon Urn Burial, or a Discourse of the Sejjul- chral Urns lately Found in Norfolk (1658) is best known. It is full of curious learning, set forth in prose of elaborate and majestic eloquence. Both works be- long among our prose classics. RISE OF PURITANISM 179 II. THE PURITAN MOVEMENT : MILTON. When Shakespeare died in April, 1616, John Mil- ton was a boy seven and a half years old. By chance his parents lived in a house on Bread Street, the thor- oughfare oil which stood the Mermaid Tavern, head- quarters for the group of dramatists and poets of whom Shakespeare and Ben Jonson were illustrious members. Tradition has it that Shakespeare was present with his friends at a merrymaking in this historic tavern as late as 1614 ; and fancy has pictured a possible contact of these two spirits, Shakespeare and Milton, — one near the close of his career ; the other, as yet unfledged, but destined to occupy a place in English letters second only to that held by his great predecessor. However, this is only fancy, and while the lives of Shakespeare and Milton thus overlap, the age of Milton's maturity was as separate and distinct from that of the drama- tists as though a century lay between. In the boyhood of Milton the later Elizabethans were still alive ; but his age was the age of Charles I., of Cromwell, and of Charles II. The climax of his generation was the development of Puritan England ; its decadence was the Restoration. "No greater moral change ever passed over a na- tion," says Green, " than passed over Eng- Rise 0I land during the years which parted the mid- Puritanism, die of the reign of Elizabeth from the meeting of the Long Parliament (1583-1640). England became the people of a book, and that book was the Bible." x For the mass of the people there was no other literature, and when Bibles were ordered to be set up in churches, and public readers were employed, the people flocked to listen. The effect of this new familiarity with the Scriptures was speedily seen, not only in the language 1 Short History of the English People, ch. viii. § 1. 180 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN of the nation, but in its character as well. Theology became the passion of the thoughtful, and the pro- found problems of religion occupied the minds both of scholars and common men. In this atmosphere the Puritan was born. He might be a gentleman by birth and breeding ; on the other hand, he might be of the laboring class, uncultured and uncouth. In either case he was distinguished by his sobriety and strictness of life, his gravity of demeanor, his self-control, his demo- cratic spirit, his opposition to all that smacked of license, of extravagance, of immorality, and by his recognition of the brotherhood of faith and practice. The strength of the Puritan movement found itself in the middle and professional classes. John Milton ex- hibited the characteristics of Puritanism in its highest and most attractive type. The Puritan movement was not merely a develop- ment in the intellectual and spiritual life of Politics. , . . , . . , , ,. the nation ; it was a political evolution as well. The accession of the Stuarts was accompanied by an unhappy emphasis on the doctrine of the divine right of kingship and an unpleasant stress on the authority of the state church ; conformity was enjoined upon all. Yet the Nonconformists, the Independents, multiplied in spite of legal enactment and ecclesiastical tyranny. Incidental to these disturbances was the rise of a band of Separatists in Lincolnshire, whose teach- ings and polity were at variance with those of the Puritans, although in spirit and aim they were at one with the latter. For security and freedom these people fled to Holland, and in 1620 once more embarked to establish a permanent home in the new world. They were the Pilgrims, who landed from the Mayflower at Plymouth Rock when John Milton was a lad of twelve. THE COMMONWEALTH 181 Following the dissolution of Parliament by Charles I. in 1629 there was no meeting of either The house for eleven years. The king governed Covenant - single-handed, and all abuses increased. In Scotland there was great excitement. At Edinburgh, in 1638, the old Covenant, which had been drawn in the time of Mary, was again brought forth, and in the church- yard of Grey Friars was signed amid intense enthu- siasm by those who swore " by the great name of the Lord our God, to continue in the profession and obedience of the said religion, and that we shall defend the same, and resist all their contrary errors and corruptions, according to our own vocation and the utmost of that power which God has put into our hands all the days of our life." 1 Hence came the name of the Covenanters. In 1643 this oath was subscribed to by the Commons. In 1642 civil war began. Among the leaders of the Parliamentary forces Oliver Cromwell be- -i • , -nr,,. Civil War. came more and more prominent. Within two years the Royalists were beaten, and Charles was nom- inally a prisoner of his own Parliament. Events were pushed to a crisis, and at the end of 1648 a remnant of the Commons, the famous Rump Parliament, con- demned Charles to death "as a tyrant, traitor, mur- derer, and enemy to his country." In January, 1649, he was beheaded at Whitehall. From 1649 to 1653 England was in name a repub- lic. In 1653 Oliver Cromwell became the TheCom . Protector ; and upon his death five years monweaith. afterward, the title descended to his son Richard, who maintained it weakly for two years. The fall of Puri- tanism in England was indicated by the return of the Stuarts in 1660, the accession of Charles II., and the 1 Green, ch. viii. § 5- 182 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN beginning of the period of the Restoration. During this turbulent epoch of civil commotion John Milton played no inconspicuous part. He was officially em- ployed in the government of the Commonwealth. In his writings we find the clear expression of the Puritan spirit. The English poet who, by common consent, holds a rank second only to that of Shakespeare, was Milton, born in London December 9, 1608. Milton's grandfather was a Catholic. His father, also John Milton, was a Protestant, and had been disin- herited for his faith. By profession the poet's father was a scrivener ; that is, he was an attorney and also a stationer. He was a man of property and of culture, appreciative of the value of learning and especially devoted to music. He composed several tunes, of which York and Norwich are still standard in the hymn books of to-day. He designed that his son should enter the Church, and planned with great care and lib- erality for his education. Milton's training began at ten years of age under the direction of a private tutor in the person of Education. -r> •, • • . o . v rri a 1 uritan minister, a Scotchman, 1 nomas Young. He attended St. Paul's School in London, and in 1625, then in his seventeenth year, entered the University of Cambridge and was enrolled a student of Christ's College. Here Milton remained until July, 1632, when, at the age of twenty-three, he received the master's degree. Of Milton's student life we have a few interesting At cam- details. We know that it was his practice to bridge. g^ till midnight with his book, and that this close application to his studies was the first occasion of that trouble which resulted later in his blindness. We are told that he performed the academical exercises JOHN MILTON 183 to the admiration of all, and was esteemed a virtuous and sober person, yet not ignorant of his own parts. A picturesque and an attractive figure is this youth just coming of age — not precisely the type which the Puritan character is apt to suggest — a fair complex- ion, delicate features, dark gray eyes, and auburn hair falling upon his shoulders. The fairness of his oval face seemed feminine in its delicacy, and he was some- times called " the lady of Christ's." His figure, if slight, was erect, and his gait was manly. Like all gentlemen he used the sword with skill, and thought himself a match for any one. The young poet had composed English and Latin verses at an early age. His first English poem of any note belongs to the year 1626, and commemorates the death of an infant, his sister's child. In 1629 he pro- duced the well-known Ode on the Morning of Christ's Nativity. "It is a gift," he says, "I have presented to Christ's natal-day. On that very morning at day- break it was first conceived." Various odes of less im- portance followed, together with much minor verse. The Epitaph on Shakespeare was Milton's first pub- lished poem ; it found a place among the tributes in- cluded in the folio edition of the plays, published in 1632. The sonnet, On His Being Arrived at the Age of Twenty-three, is a fine expression of the serious mind of this young Puritan who will use his ripening manhood as ever in his great taskmaster's eye. Following the period of residence at Cambridge Milton went to live at his father's house in Horton, seventeen miles from London, near Windsor and Eton. In this quiet environment he passed the next six years of his life, making occasional visits to London, devoting his time to study, and find- ing delightful recreation in music and mathematics. 184 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN Here at Horton he wrote the group of five composi- tions which we cull his minor poems, — not because of any inferiority in them, but because of the surpassing greutness of his later work. Indeed, had John Milton never written Paradise Lost, the author of IS Allegro, II Penseroso, Com/as, and Lycidas would have been reckoned, among the great poets of our literature. These poems reflect the varying moods of Milton's mind. L 'Allegro and II Penseroso, companion pictures of the man in joyous, lively mood, and again serious, con- templative, solitary, appropriately precede the masque Comus, presented at Ludlow Castle (1634), in which the poet breaks forth in vigorous denunciation of the violence and license of the time. In Arcades, a lighter composition of the same period, there are no allusions of a political character; but in Lycithis (1637), the exquisite elegy inspired by the death of his friend Edward King, the poet voices an indignant protest against a corrupt and selfish priesthood, and comments unsparingly upon the evils of his age. During 1638-39 Milton made the European tour. Continental H e visited Paris, and saw the eminent Dutch Travel. scholar Grotius. He then traveled through Italy, visiting Genoa, Leghorn, Pisa. Florence, and Rome. At Florence he remained two months, and while there went to see Galileo, who was in prison, and blind. This courtly, handsome, cultured Englishman was well received in the society of these Italian towns. At Rome he was graciously entertained for three months, and verses were written in his praise. Then came sudden news of a rising in Scotland. Milton knew its significance and the Puritan conscience spoke : " The sad news of civil war coming from England called me back : for I thought it disgraceful, while my fellow countrymen were fighting for liberty, that I MILTON'S PROSE WORKS 185 should be traveling abroad for pleasure." : But the crisis had not yet come, and the poet did not hasten his return. This first outbreak had subsided when he again arrived in London in July, 1639. Concerning his foreign visit and his own personal conduct in a period of general license, Milton afterward declared : " I again take God to witness that in all those places where so many things are considered lawful, I lived sound and untouched from all profligacy and vice, having this thought perpetually before me, that though I might escape the eyes of men, I certainly could nofr the eyes of God." 1 The household at Ilorton was now broken up, and Milton took lodgings in London, where for a time he directed the education of his two nephews and the sons of other friends. He was already pondering plans for some great po- etical work, undoubtedly stimulated in this ambition by his intercourse with the writers of Italy and his recent acquaintance with their works. The subject of King Arthur had already suggested itself ; and there are among the poet's papers of this date, lists of sub- jects, more than a hundred in all, some taken from British history, some from the Bible ; there are also drafts of a sacred drama on the theme of Paradise Lost. A well-defined period in Milton's life is that included bv the years 1640-00. This was the period „,„ , .... . . Milton s of civil agitation and national turmoil attend- Prose ing the struggle between the two hostile par- or s- ties, the trial of Charles, his execution in 1649, the establishment of the Commonwealth, and the downfall of the second Protectorate. Into the controversy of that troubled age the poet of puritanism flung himself 1 Defensio Secunda. 186 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN wholly. In his Second Defense he declares : " I re- solved, though I was then meditating other matters, to transfer into this struggle all my genius and all the strength of my industry." To this period of Milton's life belong the prose works : the pamphlets, tractates, and defenses which make up his contributions to political and controversial literature. These prose writings comprise : — I. A group of five pamphlets against episcopacy (1641-42). II. Four papers on divorce (1643-45). III. The Tractate on Education (1644). IV. Areopagitica, — a plea for unlicensed printing (1644). V. Many pamphlets upon civil affairs, including Eilconoklastes (1649), the Pro Populo Anglicano Defensio (1651), and the Defensio >S(<-inu/<( (1654). Milton's controversial writings are marred by the abusive attacks which always characterized controversy in that day, but one or two of these papers stand far above the rest. The Areopagitica, particularly, is an eloquent and beautiful work. The areopagus was the forum of Athens, the court of public appeal, the Mars Hill of Paul's address ; hence the significance of the title. Previous to publication all manuscripts were submitted to an official censor who might give or refuse license for their printing. The law had a demoralizing effect on the production of books ; in the beginning of 1643 only thirty-five publications were registered. Milton's argument for the freedom of the press was a splendid defense of books, yet no results followed his brilliant appeal. In March, 1649, two months after the execution of Charles I., Milton was appointed Latin Secretary to the committee of foreign affairs under the Com- THE RESTORATION 187 monwealth. In that year appeared a work put forth by Royalists, entitled Eikon Basilike, or The LatIn Royal Image, purporting to be the work of Secretary, the king in his last days, and giving a most favorable picture of his religious fervor. Milton wrote a reply, JEJileonoklastes, or The Image Breaker. While the duties of the secretary were primarily connected with the official correspondence of the Government, which was conducted in Latin, he was employed in these po- litical controversies for many years. In 1651 he was warned by physicians that his sight, which had long been failing, would be utterly destroyed if he persisted in his arduous work ; still he kept on at his task, and in the following year became entirely blind. Even then he retained his office and attended to its duties. The accession of Charles II. was the signal for a period of gross license and excess. It seemed The as if all the graceless spirits of evil, which had Restoration, been so rigorously repressed under the somewhat grim rule of the Puritans, had broken bounds and were free of any semblance of restraint. England swung from one extreme to the other, and the pleasures of the court were sought in ribaldry and vice. The last period of Milton's life was passed in the depression incident to such an age. When the Royalist party was again in power, prominent Independents were at once pro- scribed ; and the former Latin Secretary had been too staunch a supporter of Cromwell and the Common- wealth to escape. For some months he was forced into hiding, remaining under protection of friends. The EikonoMastes and the two Defenses of the English people were burned by the common hangman. From August to December, Milton was in actual custody, but was then freed. He was very poor. In 1666 his house was burned in the great fire which ravaged London in 188 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN that year. The poet had been twice married. His first wife, Mary Powell, left three daughters, who are re- ported to have been rather undutiful and careless of his comfort. The second wife, Catherine Woodcock, whose marriage with the poet took place in 1656, lived but little more than a year. In 1663 Milton married again, and this third wife, Elizabeth Minshnll, survived him. During the years 1658-65 the poet was engaged Paradise upon his great poem, Paradise Lost. When Lost. published two years later, it failed of the recognition due to so remarkable a work, although the fact is not surprising when we recall the character of the time and the conditions under which Milton's poem first saw the light. Pan/disc Lost is our great English epic. The scope of its plan is the most ambitious that a poet could con- ceive ; and yet with a superb consciousness of power correspondent to his task, Milton invokes the Heavenly Muse to aid his adventurous song " That with no middle flight intends to soar Above tlie Aonian mount, while it pursues Things unattempted yejfc in pmse or rhyme." His lofty purpose is to " assert eternal Providence And justify the ways of God to men." It seems as if the poet at times felt that he was di- rectly inspired in the execution of his task. He relied, as he declares, " on devout prayer to that Eternal Spirit who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge and sends out his Seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases." Elsewhere he refers to PARADISE LOST. BOOK I. F Mans Firft: Difobedience , and the Fruit Of that Forbidden Tree, whofe mortal taft Brought Death into the World 3 and all our woe, With Iofs of Eden, till one greater Man Heirore us, and regain the blifsful Seat, Sing Heav'nly Mufe, that on the fecret top Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didft infpire That Shepherd,who firft taught the chofen Seed, In the Beginning how the Heav'ns and Earth Rofe out of Chaot : Or if Sion Hill Delight thee more, and Siloa s Brook that flow'd Faft by the Oracle of God ■-, I thence Invoke thy aid to my adventrous Song, That with no middle flight intends to foar A Above 10 190 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN "my celestial patroness, who deigns Her nightly visitation unimplor'd, And dictates to me slumb'ring, or inspires Easy my unpremeditated verse." 1 The great Puritan was indeed filled with the spirit of his faith, and his mind was stored with unusual treasures of knowledge from which he drew, almost unconscious of their wealth. His style, always dignified and stately, even in the minor poems, now rose to loftier heights. His great creation is the character of Satan. The most impressive portions of the poem are found in the first two books. Especially effective in the de- scriptive passages are the phrasings by which the poet suggests the vagueness and vastness of his scenes. " Who shall tempt with wand'ring feet The dark unbottoni'd infinite abyss, And through the palpable obscure find out His uncouth way, or spread his very flight, Upborne with indefatigable wings Over the vast abrupt. . . ." 2 Following the order of its plan, the epic proceeds with the account of the fallen angels, their infernal council, and Satan's journey to the new-created earth. The first pair are described in Eden. Raphael, the archangel, is sent and instructs them concerning the revolt of Satan and his hosts ; he recounts the story of creation, and finally departs. The narrative of man's fall then follows, and the expulsion of the pair from Paradise. As has been stated, Milton's success is great- est in the earlier part of his work : the human char- acters are far less impressive than those that move amid the awful gloom of the earlier scenes. When the poet enters celestial regions and attempts to present Deity itself, he has passed the bounds of human ability, and i Book IX. 11. 21-24. 2 Book II. 11. 404-408. LAST POEMS 191 fixed the limits of his own dramatic success. But there is no other poem like Paradise Lost. Its sublimity of vision, its height of imaginative creation, its solemn grandeur of great harmonies, have never been equaled in English verse. Paradise Regained was written in 1666 in response to a suggestion that the poet should present this Last side of man's religious experience ; and the Poems- latter poem stands as a pendant to the earlier. In the story of the temptation of our Lord the poet finds the material of a new epic, and now sings : — " Recover'd Paradise to all mankind, By one man's firm obedience fully try'd Through all temptation, and the tempter foil'd In all his wiles, defeated, and repuls'd, And Eden rais'd in the waste wilderness." The last important composition, Samson Agonistes, appeared in 1671. This picture of the struggling champion of Israel, beset and afflicted by mocking enemies, gains a new significance when we remember Milton's blindness and the political environment of his closing years. The poem of Samson is cast on the lines of the ancient Greek drama and is characterized by classic stateliness and austerity of style. Milton was not left lonely in his last years. Friends attended him, and foreigners in England sought him out. One writer 1 of the time declares that " he was visited by the learned much more than he did desire." One who saw him thus describes the poet as sitting in an elbow-chair in his chamber, dressed neatly in black ; pale, but not cadaverous ; his hands and fingers gouty, and with chalk-stones. He used also to sit at the door of his house in Bunhill Fields, wrapped in a gray coarse cloth coat, to enjoy the fresh air ; and sometimes 1 Aubrey. 192 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN here, sometimes in his room, he received his guests. Milton died November 8, 1074, and was buried in the Church of St. Giles, Cripplegate. L' Allegro a.\i> II Penskkoso. These two exquisite Suggestions poems should be studied together. Kadi is the forstudy. pendant of the other, and the parallelism is very close. They are descriptive poems, — pictures of nature and of incident as they are seen by the poet under two varying moods. V Allegro is the man in lively mood ; II Penseroso, the man thoughtful, contemplative. Milton does not use the word " melancholy " precisely in the sense in which we now use that term. In the study of these poems first note the many ways in which the parallelism is perfected. Compare the invoca- tions of both poems, also their conclusions. What characters in II Penseroso correspond to Euphrosyne (line 12), Venus (line 14), Bacchus (line 16), Jest and Jollity (line 26), Sport (line 31), Laughter (line 32), Liberty (line 36) ? Now fol- low in their course respectively the incidents described : on the one hand those that mark the progress of the day, on the other those that attend the passing of the night. Com- pare these two pictures, the happy social scenes of country life, bright with sunshine, cheery with companionship, and blessed with contented toil, and the calm solitude of the night, bathed in the full moon's splendor, the peaceful quiet made more impressive by the mellow notes of the nightin- gale, the distant chiming of the curfew bell, or the drowsy calling of the hours by the watchman's muffled voice. Point out the correspondences in // Allegro, lines 130-150, and II Penseroso, lines 97-120. It should be understood that in neither poem does the author follow strictly an immediate succession of incidents continuous and unbroken. For ex- ample, in the first poem it is now the song of the lark and the crowing of the cock by which he is awakened ; and then it is the sound of hounds and horn ; again the whistle of the SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 193 ploughman ami the milkmaid's song usher in the day. And so in the other poem if the even-song of Philomel be not forthcoming, the poet walks in the shadow and the moon- light, " or if the air will not permit," sits beside the glowing embers, or lights his lamp to pore over Plato or iEschylus, the Greek dramatists or Chaucer, as he feels inclined. And yet the passage of time is also clearly suggested. From your study of the poems can you say which mood is most honored of Milton or which is the more characteristic of him ? In a detailed study of these poems it will be neces- sary to understand the allusions, classical and otherwise. In U Allegro what is the significance of introducing Cerberus (line 2) ? why Stygian (line 3) ? Cimmerian (line 10)? In II Penseroso why is Morpheus mentioned (line 10) ? Prince Menmon's sister (line 10) is Hemera ; the " starred Ethiope queen " is Cassiopeia ; the Sea Nymphs are the Nereids : a classical dictionary will explain the force of the allusion here. Proceed thus with later allusions in the poems. The metre of these two poems is simple. The first ten verses which form the introduction in each follow the rhyme order a — bb — a — c — dd — ee — e ; afterward the verses rhyme in couplets. In the first ten lines, too, we have verses of three accents alternating with those of five ; subsequently the verses are all of four accents. The type form is as in verse 11 : — " But c6me, thou G6ddess, Mir and fr£e." Milton varies the placing of the accent with an artist's skill that relieves the composition of all monotony. While it is right to read such poetry as this without thought of the mere mechanics of its structure, it is not right to pass over such consummate composition without some appreciation of its technique. Therefore notice the dropping of the first syllable of the normal verse in verse 13 : — " And by m£n heart-eAsing mirth." Find other illustrations of this arrangement. Notice another variation, — the use of double or feminine rhymes in lines 194 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN 45-46. Read aloud, emphasizing accent and pause, the pas- sage inZ' Allegro beginning " Haste thee, nymph " (line 25), and as far as line 40 ; does there not seem to be a natural appropriateness of the metre to the sense? In the same manner read the corresponding passage in II Penseroso (lines 30-54). In L' Allegro (lines 45-46) the thought is not that the lark is to appear in the window, but that the poet, awak- ening at the summons of the songster, himself arises, throws off his melancholy, and greets the world, which is wide awake. Now take notice of the series of pictures descriptive of the rural pleasures. In how many phrases has the poet described the dawn ? Compare line 40 with Chaucer's pic- ture of the dawn in The Knight's Tale (lines 633-638), "The bisy larke," etc., and line 60 with Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliet, III. v. and Hamlet, I. i. 166. Think over the suggestiveness of the epithets used in such phrases as " dappled dawn " (line 44), " amber light " (line 61) , " rus- set knvns " (line 71), "nibbling flocks" (line 72), "labour- ing clouds " (line 74). Consider how effective are lines like 1 1 6, 135-144. Notice the tribute to Jonson and Shakespeare. Just what does Milton mean in lines 132-134, and in II Penseroso, lines 155-174 ? What sort of a man does the poet portray in the moods of these two poems ? Comus. The masque Comus is perhaps the most perfect of Milton's poems. It belongs to a class of compositions popular in the age of Elizabeth and James, and developed with elaborate form by Ben Jonson. The masque was a dramatic performance which combined the effects of poetry, music, and dancing, and was closely related to the more modern operetta. Milton's Comus was written in collabora- tion with Henry Lawes, a distinguished musician, at whose suggestion the poet had written Arcades, a briefer and slighter composition, presented at Harefield in honor of the Countess of Derby in the previous year. Comus was presented at Ludlow Castle in L634 before the Earl of Bridge water. Lawes composed the music for the songs and dances, superintended the presentation, and acted the part of the Attendant Spirit in the masque. The spirit of Mil- SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 195 ton's work is pastoral ; the allusions are mainly to classic mythology, and the poem takes on an allegorical significance — as was common in the masque. The character of Comus had been introduced in an earlier masque by Ben Jonson, and there had been published at Oxford in this same year a Latin prose work describing a dream in which Comus figures. The story of the lost sister, sought for by her two brothers, is found in a play called Old Wives'' Tale, by George Peele (1595). In Comus Milton uses for the most part the blank verse of ten syllables, with five accents, the ordinary metre of the drama. The theme of the masque is the grace of purity, the " sun-clad power of chastity " (line 782), which to the mind of the young Puritan was in as direful peril at the court of Charles as in the revel-haunted wood of Comus and his rout. Especially expressive of the Puritan ideal of virtue are the passages in which the Elder Brother speaks (lines 584-599;, the splendid defiance in the Lady's speech (lines 756-799), and the closing words of the Spirit (lines 1018-1023). Compare the spirit of Comus with that of U Allegro. Is there any contradiction in the sympathies expressed ? Lycidas. " In Lycidas," says Pattison, the biographer of Milton, " we have reached the high- water mark of Eng- lish poesy and of Milton's own production." This is extreme praise ; and yet it suggests that the poem is worthy of the most careful examination, and that in sentiment and form it should arouse some degree of genuine appreciation in every serious reader. What are some of the facts to be noted by a student of Lycidas ? First, it is an elegy, written in honor of Edward King, an old classmate of Milton at the University of Cambridge, where he had been in residence since June, 1626, first as undergraduate, then as fellow, and finally tutor. In the sum- mer vacation of 1637 King made a trip by sea to Ireland and was drowned in the wreck of the vessel, which struck upon a rock not long after leaving the port. In the autumn a memorial volume was planned by the friends of Edward King, and for it Milton wrote his Lycidas in November of 196 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN the same year, 1637. The hook itself was not published until 1638, and Milton's elegy was placed at its close. There are three great elegies in English literature which form a famous group, surpassing in general interest and impressive character all others of the kind. These are (1) Milton's Lycidas (1637), in memory of King ; (2) Shelley's Adonais (1821), called forth by the death of Keats; and (3) Tenny- son's In Memorlam (1850), the loving personal tribute and record of personal experience which followed the death of his intimate friend, Arthur Henry Halhun. Of these three poems Milton's is the most artificial and is less suggestive of a deep personal grief than is In Memoriam. Shelley's poem was inspired by pity and indignation rather than by love, but there is in it more of the spontaneity of passion than in the Lycidas. And yet Milton's great composition is filled with beauties of its own that make its distinction secure. Secondly, Lycidas is a pastoral poem, employing the machinery of shepherds and utilizing the mythology of Rome. Since the appearance of Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar, pastoral motives had been the delight of Elizabethan writers and readers, not only in lyric poetry, but in dramatic verse, and even in romantic prose as well. Therefore it was only natural that Milton should figure forth his monody under the fiction of " the uncouth swain " who " touched the tender stop of various quills With eager thought warbling his Doric lay." Third, the spirit and the tone are strikingly in unison throughout. The introduction presents the shepherd, lament- ing his own immaturity perhaps, compelled by " Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear " to rudely break in on nature's course with a disturbing touch, to force a tribute because Lycidas is dead — dead ere his prime. There is, of course, in this suggestion of reluct- ance, an allusion to Milton's formulated resolve, after the completion of his masque of Covins (1634), not to resume the poet's voice until another epoch should dawn in his own career and in his country's history. But — SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 197 " Hence with denial vain and coy excuse : " and thus the Sisters of the Sacred Well are invoked hy the poet and he proceeds with his gracious task. In keeping with the classic character of the poem are the proper names employed, which are familiar terms in the Latin Eclogues; the mythological allusions should be identified. There are some inconsistencies, anachronisms, as the introduction of the Pilot of the Galilean lake — St. Peter, of course — (fine 109), and of Him who walked the waves (line 173) ; as well also the allusion to the dead shepherd's entertainment by " all the saints above" (line 178). The use of classic names to desig- nate English localities and institutions is justified by the nature of the pastoral. Examples are Mona (Anglesey), Deva (the Dee) (line 55), Camus (the genius of Cambridge, where the poet and his friend had studied) (line 103). Interesting is the allusion to contemporary literature con- tained in lines 64-69 : — " Alas ! what boots it with uncessant care To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, And strictly meditate the thankless Muse ? Were it not better done as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Nesera's hair ? " In this passage Milton suggests the query whether it be better to follow the high ideal of purity, simplicity, and stern morality which was his poetical creed, or to join in the loose and pleasure-loving chorus of Cavalier song writers and amatory poets of Charles's court. In the passage beginning " Last came, and last did go, The Pilot of the Galilean lake " (lines 109-110), we catch a glimpse of the real passion of Milton's soul, almost his first formal attack on the abuses and errors of the spirit- ual leaders of his day. Edward King had been intended for the Church, and the poet mourns his untimely death as for one who would have made a good pastor, a true shepherd. In the person of Peter the indignant poet exclaims : — 198 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN " How well could I have spar'd for thee, young swain. Enow of such as for their hellies' sake Creep, and intrude, and clinih into the fold ? Of other care they little reckoning make Than how to scramble at the shearer's feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest ; Blind mouths ! that scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else the least That to the faithful herdman's art belongs ! " The expression " blind mouths " is a famous one and has caused considerable criticism and comment. It seems to be decidedly a mixing of ideas, and when we try to follow the thought further, we are puzzled by the introduction of a new metaphor in the use of the sheep-hook, or shepherd's crook, and wonder how the combination of blind mouths holding a sheep-hook could be conceived. But of course this is intense concentration of thought and figure both ; Shakespeare allows himself such license again and again ; and here the poet's thought is clear enough, while it gains tremendous force from the mingling of the metaphors. Milton is speaking of the bishops and the pastors of the established state church. Now a bishop is a watchman, an over-seer, and a pastor is a. shepherd, a feeder of the sheep. What, then, more striking figure can be imagined to express " the precisely accurate contraries of right character, in the two great offices of the Church — those of bishop and pastor " ? — as John Ruskir points out in his essay, Sesame and Lilies. Concerning the exact application of the reference to the two-handed engine in line 130, at least two different interpretations have been urged, and Milton's thought is uncertain. With line 132, " Return, Alpheus ; the dread voice is past, That shrunk thy streams," the poet resumes the purely pastoral strain and continues his simpler Doric lay. Milton employs some native Anglo-Saxon words that have in time become unusual if not obsolete, but like all such words they carry peculiar force when their meaning is rightly understood. Thus welter (line 13) means to roll, or wallow, to tumble about, and is particularly suggestive of the forlorn SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 199 pitilessness of the tossing waves as they carelessly pitch and roll the body of the drowned. Scrannel (line 124) means paved o\ peeled, scraped till thin and poor; rathe (line 142), early positive of rather ; uncouth (line 186), literally, un- known, strange, hence, later, awkward. The authority on Milton is David Masson. Masson's Life of John Milton, namuted in connection with the Brief Bib- political, ecclesiastical and literary history of his Uography. time (Macmillan), is the source of all subsequent statement, and is one of the few great biographies in our literature. The life of Milton in English Men of Letters Series, by Mark Pattison, is brief, as is that by Garnett in the Great Writers Series. Interesting studies of Milton have been made by Addison in the Spectator, 267, Johnson in his Lives of the Poets, Macaulay in his essay on Milton, Lowell in Among my Books, Matthew Arnold in Essays in Criticism, 2d ser. In special criticism Stopford Brooke's Milton, in Classical Writers Series, is valuable. The notes upon the minor poems are elaborate in Hales's Longer English Poems. In Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies there is a well-known and help- ful comment on Lycidas. A good edition of Paradise Lost is that edited by John A. Himes (Harpers), with introduc- tion and notes. Masson's Three Devils, Luther's, Milton's, Goethe's, and Other Essays is recommended. Taine's His- tory of English Literature contains some amusing, although not very profound, criticism upon Milton's epic. Macaulay 's chapter on " The Puritans " and Green's Short History, ch. viii., should be read for information on the times. Milton's Complete Poetical Works are published in the Cambridge Edition (Houghton, Mifflin and Company). III. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY LYRICS. Besides Milton there was no great poet in England during the period of civil discord attending the rise of Puritanism and the era of the Commonwealth; and 200 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN yet there were not a few who laid claim to the title of " poet," and some whose contributions to English verse are far from unimportant. A peculiar phase of the poetical art is found in the TheMeta- compositions of a little group of versifiers physical w h are frequently described as the meta- Poets. physical p>oets. First in point of time was John Donne, who appears to have been the leader of John ^he school. Reared a Catholic, he later joined Donne, the Anglican Communion, and became a clergyman in 1615. In 1621 he was made Dean of St. Paul's. His early verse was amatory and passionate ; his later productions were religious and devotional. His style was later described aptly by Dryden, who declared that Donne was " the greatest wit, though not the best poet of our nation." The word wit was here used, as generally at the close of the seventeenth century and the beginning of the eight- eenth, to denote a clever or ingenious writer rather than a humorous one, and was applied to the person as well as to the element essential in his work. It found its application in the unusual and sometimes fantastic turns of thought, often laboriously conceived, that distinguish the writings of Donne and his school. George " Holy George Herbert," as Izaak Walton Herbert, named him, was one of the best examples of 1693-1632. , . \ this group, as well as one ot its most impor- tant representatives. In his lengthy poem of good counsel, entitled The Church Porch, for example, he has this to say : — " Drink not the third glasse which thou canst not tame, When once it is within thee ; hut hefore May'sl rule it, as thou list, and pour the shame, Which it would pour on thee, upon the floore. It is most just to throw that on the around Which would throw me there, if I keep the round." THE METAPHYSICAL POETS 201 Again, in The Sacrifice, with its refrain of simple pathos, we are surprised by more than one conceit as singular as this : — " Behold, they spit on Me in scornful wise ; Who by My spittle gave the blind man eyes, Leaving his blindness to Mine enemies : Was ever grief like Mine ? " Because of this grotesque ingenuity of allusion and comparison the term metaphysical was used of these poets by Samuel Johnson ; and by this title they are best described. George Herbert was in seriousness of tone and saintly character more like Milton than any other of the writers here discussed. He was born in Wales, and received his university training at Trinity College, Cambridge. In 1630 he became. Vicar of Bemerton, near Salisbury. His poetry is wholly devotional. It is he who wrote of Sunday the familiar lines : — " day most calm, most bright ! The fruit of this, the next world's bud, The indorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a Friend, and with His blood ; The couch of time ; care's balm and bay ; The week were dark, but for thy light : Thy torch doth show the way." Thorough Royalists in their attachments were the three poets Quarles, Crashaw, and Vaughan. Francis The first named was a student of Christ's i^-Tei-i. (Milton's) College at Cambridge, and was Richard later secretary to Archbishop Usher. In his 1613-49.' Divine Emblems he produced a moralizing ^ughan, poem full of the mannerisms of this group. 1621-95. Richard Crashaw, the son of an Anglican clergy- man, was educated at the Charterhouse School and at Cambridge. He finally became a Catholic, and during the last few years of his life, through the influence of 202 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN Queen Henrietta Maria, found an asylum in Italy. Crashaw greatly resembles Herbert in thought and manner. A line from one of his Latin poems, descrip- tive of the miracle at Cana, is frequently quoted in devotional literature : — " Nympha pudica Deum vidit et erubuit" " The modest water saw its God and blushed." His principal volume was entitled (by its editor) Steps to the Temple ; it appeared in 1646. Henry Vaughan was a Welsh physician ; he pub- lished in 1650 a collection of verse, to which he gave the title of Silex ScintUlans, or Sparks from the Flint. His work also shows the strong influence of his countryman, George Herbert. Stoutly Puritan in spirit were the two minor poets Wither and Marvell. The former, in 1642, wither, sold his estate to raise a troop of horse for 1588-1667. Cromwell's army ; the latter had attracted the Andrew J ' Marveu, attention of Cromwell, and was employed by him up to the time of his death. In 1657 Marvell was appointed assistant to Milton in the Latin Secretaryship ; and this association with the great poet has made his name more familiar than his verses could have done. Marvell's poems were, however, distin- guished by their classic flavor and by a very real appre- ciation of nature, — a quality not common in the minor poetry of the age. They were written for the most part in youth. Wither's verse is mainly devotional in character, consisting of The Hymns and Songs of the Church (1623), a translation of the Psalms of David (1631), Emblems (1634), and Hallelujah (1641). A fine pas- toral poem, Shepherds Hunting (1613), was the work of an earlier period. THE CAVALIER POETS 203 A singular fate has overtaken the fame of Abraham Cowley, who was esteemed by his own gen- Abraham eration the greatest of English poets. He Cowley, . 1618-67 was a disciple of the metaphysical school, and was made famous by the ingenuity of his verse even in boyhood. His first volume appeared when he was but fifteen ; while a student at Cambridge he wrote the larger part of a long epic on King David, the Davideis, which he hoped would inspire the composi- tion of more biblical epics. Cowley was attached to the Royalist cause, and accompanied Queen Henrietta Maria, in capacity of secretary, to France. He was the author of Plndarique Odes, in imitation of the classic poet, and of a series of love poems under the title of The Misfress. Although he attained the dis- tinction of a burial in Westminster Abbey, Cowley's reputation as a poet began to wane soon after his death, and he has since occupied a minor position among the poets of this group. Three or four of the minor poets of this age fall naturally into a group by themselves ; these . _ are the representative poets of the Cavaliers, lier Poets: Gay, light-hearted gentlemen, gallant in both carew, love and war, fond of the pretty and pleasing 1589-1639; rather than of the serious and impressive suckling, phases of life's experience, they produced R^anf' some dainty and charming verse, but spent Lovelace, their talents upon trifling themes of senti- ment and pleasure. " Idle singers of an empty day," their activity included none of the offices of prophet or seer. Carew, Suckling, and Lovelace were all prominent in the court of Charles I., and are sometimes distin- guished by the name of the Caroline poets. Charac- teristic of their songs, which still display the artificial 204 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN and far-fetched imagery of the metaphysical school, are the following - stanzas of a song by Carew : — " Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose, For in your beauty's orient peep These flowers, as in their causes, sleep ! Ask me no more whither doth haste The nightingale when May is past, For in your sweet dividing throat She winters and keeps warm her note ; " and so forth. It was Suckling who sang merrily : — " Out upon it, I have loved Three whole days together ; And am like to love three more If it prove fair Aveather. Time shall moult away his wings Ere he shall discover In the whole wide world again Such a constant lover." His lively Ballad upon a Wedding is one of the brightest and prettiest of the graceful compositions of the group. His description of the bride is often quoted : — " Her finger was so small, the ring Would not stay on which they did bring; It was too wide a peck : And to say truth — for out it must — It looked like the great collar — just — About our young colt's neck. Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice, stole in and out. As if they feared the light : But oh ! she dances such a way ! No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight." Lovelace strikes a higher note in his verses To Lucasta on Going to the Wars : — " True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; ROBERT HERRICK 205 And -with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore : I could not love you, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more." The vigorous, hearty spirit of Herrick's verse still keeps the fame of that lusty poet green. He Rolbert is the foremost of the minor writers in this Herrick, seventeenth century group. A student and fellow at the University of Cambridge for fourteen years, and afterward a clergyman in a quiet vicarage of Devon, there is much in his very lively verse to suggest other than the studious or clerical profession. In spirit Herrick was thoroughly Elizabethan. Corinna's Going a-Maying is one of his best known lyrics : — " Come, let us goe, while we are in our prime, And take the harmless follie of the time. We shall grow old apace and die Before we know our liberty." In his poem To the Virgins to make much of Time, Herrick gives this advice : — " Gather ye rosebuds while ye may : Old time is still a-flying ; And this same flower that smiles to-day To-morrow will be dying. Then be not coy, but use your time And while ye may, goe marry ; For having lost but once your prime, You may forever tarry." It was Herrick, too, who described his verse and, incidentally, that of his brother minstrels in these lines : — " I sing of brooks, of blossomes, birds, and bowers ; Of April, May, of June, and July flowers ; I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes ; Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridall-cakes." There is no indication in his writings that he was 206 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN moved by the momentous events of the days in which he lived. There is much of the " joy of mere living," and a frequent turning into vulgar sensuality. His most characteristic poems are contained in his Hesper- ides. The collection entitled Noble Numbers consists of devotional songs on the subject of Christ's birth and passion. Edmund Waller, the last of the metaphysical poets, was a Royalist, like most of the waller, group ; but he served the Commonwealth as readily as the Crown, and his reputation is that of a turncoat and a coward. Waller was master of an eloquent tongue and a lively wit ; he was distin- guished as an orator and a versifier. Having indited a famous Panegyric to the great Oliver, he greeted Chax-les II. with flattering congratulation Upon His Majesty s Happy Return. When the king called the poet's attention to the fact that the earlier poem was clearly the better of the two, Waller at once replied, " Poets, sir, succeed better in fiction than in truth." Waller's favorite verse form was the rhymed couplet, which appears so conspicuously in the poetry of the succeeding age. His influence upon the next great poet, John Dryden, was very marked. IV. THE RESTORATION : BUNYAN, DRYDEN. In November, 1628, while John Milton was about John finishing his third year of university life at Bunyan. Cambridge, John Bunyan was born at El- stow, a village in Bedfordshire, not many miles from Cambridge on the west. There was a sharp contrast in the conditions that ruled the lives of these two men, and yet the son of the Elstow tinker was destined to find a place in literature not far below that filled by the great Puritan poet himself. JOHN BUNYAN 207 Bunyan's school days were few and unproductive. Such school training as he gained he had at the Bedford Grammar School, and the little he learned he declares that he soon lost. His true ed- ucation came through his contact with men. " I never went to school to Aristotle or Plato," he writes ; " but was brought up at my father's house in a very mean condition, among a company of poor countrymen." Thomas Bunyan, the father of John, describes himself as a " braseyer." There was a forge in the little cot- tage occupied by him and his family at Elstow, and at this forge John Bunyan, too, was taught his father's trade. The brazier, or tinker, of that day was often upon the road, a not unwelcome visitant at the isolated farms, where there was plenty of work to his hand in the mending of utensils and tools. Convivial and care- less in their habits, these men usually partook of the vagabond type, and although John Bunyan affirms that he was never a drunkard and never unchaste, he de- clares that, even as a child, he " had few equals in swearing, lying, and blaspheming the holy name of God." At sixteen years of age Bunyan became a sol- dier in the Civil War. It is not altogether certain on which side he served, but the presumption is that he was drafted into Cromwell's army, and that he fought under the leadership of Sir Samuel Luke, the promi- nent parliamentarian of Bedford, the reputed original of Butler's Hudibras. Bunyan's military career was brief, for the campaign was closed at Naseby, some six months after he entered the army. Occasional re- minders of this period are to be found in Bunyan's works, as in the description of the combat with Apol- lyon, and the taking of the town of Mansoul, in The Holy War. In 1646 Bunyan resumed his trade at El- stow, and two or three years later he married. His '208 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN wife was a pious woman as poor as himself ; her dowry consisted of two religious books then popular, — The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven and The Practice of Piety. " In these," says Bunyan, " I should sometimes read with her, wherein I also found some things that were somewhat pleasing to me." The next four years of Bunyan's life were character- ized by peculiar mental and spiritual experi- Reiigious ences. Intensely sensitive by temperament, Experiences. an( j gif te( j w i tn an imagination abnormally active, he now passed through a period of religious strug- gle so vivid and so acute that his impressions became realities; their effects were profound. Most of the indul- gences that he reckoned sins were no more serious than the ringing of the church bells and participation in the dancing and other Sunday sports upon the village com- mon. But these amusements were looked upon by the pious Puritans as dangerous vanities, likely to distract the soul from its proper aims, and therefore frowned upon and rebuked ; and so, one Sunday while engaged in some game on Elstow Green, he tells us, " A voice did suddenly dart from Heaven into my soul, which said, ' Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to Heaven, or nave thy sins and go to Hell ? ' At this I was put to an exceeding maze. Wherefore I looked up to Heaven and was as if I had with the eyes of my understand- ing seen the Lord Jesus looking down upon me as being very hotly displeased with me." One morning, going into Bedford, he overheard three or four poor women talking together by a cottage door in the sunshine. They were speaking of the Christian life, and again his sensitive conscience was stirred. Once more he came to listen to the women's talk, and there was born in him " a great softness and tenderness of heart, and a great bending in his mind " toward holy thoughts. IN BEDFORD JAIL 209 Then followed a long experience of alternating hope and terror, with grotesque temptations, vivid impres- sions as of voices, sudden visions, moments of peace, seasons of gloom and despair. At last John Bunyan saw a great light. His conversion was complete. At once he joined the communion of Nonconformist breth- ren at Bedford, and some years later became the pastor of the church. The Restoration period brought much bitter experi- ence to the English Dissenters. The leaders in Bedford of the Established Church, in revenge for their Jail> previous loss of privilege under the severity of Puritan rule, now, under Charles II., sought retaliation in stren- uous laws against the Nonconformists. The holding of conventicles, as the public meetings of Dissenters were termed, was rigorously forbidden, and many were the brethren of the Pui'itan faith who now paid by im- prisonment and fine the penalty of meeting for public worship in the manner which their consciences ap- proved. The converted tinker was now a lay preacher among his people, and so conspicuous had he become because of his popularity and his boldness of speech, that he was almost the first to suffer through the intolerance of the time. On the 12th of November, 1660, while preaching to a company of people who had gathered in a small hamlet thirteen miles from Bed- ford, Bunyan was arrested, and after a farcical trial, which he has unmistakably described in the account of Faithful's experience at Vanity Fair, he was thrown into the county jail at Bedford, and for twelve years kept a prisoner, sometimes enjoying a degree of lib- erty, but for the most part under strict constraint. The separation from his wife and two little daughters, one of whom was blind, he deeply felt. But he would not accept liberty at the price of a promise to abstain 210 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN from his religious work. A part of his time he gave to the making of tagged shoe-lacings for the support of his family. By no means alone in his prison, he played the part of the apostle, and was a pastor to those who were in confinement like himself. Some of Bun- yan's sermons thus preached found their way into print. During his imprisonment, also, he wrote many tracts, among them The Holy City (published 1665) and his Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners, the account of his own conversion (1666). In 1672, during the brief operation of the Declaration of Indulgence, Bun- yan was released, and now was formally made pastor of the Bedford church. But in the early part of 1675, the Declaration having been suspended, he was again arrested and confined for six months in the town jail. During this second imprisonment it was that this un- lettered man of genius wrote his immortal allegory, at least in part. The Pilgrim's Progress was entered in the Stationers' Register under date of December 22, 1677, and appeared in print early in 1678, not quite four years after Milton's death. The immediate popularity of the Pilgrim's Progress is shown by the fact that no less than ten editions were issued up to 1685. In 1681 it was printed at Boston, and the following year an edition appeared at Amsterdam. Since its first pub- lication it has been translated into upwards of eighty- four languages and dialects, and has inspired numerous imitations. In 1680 Bunyan published The Life and Death of Mr. Badman, and in 1682 The Holy War. The second part of Pilgrim's Progress, containing the story of Christiania and her children, appeared in 1684. During the last years of his life John Bunyan was a famous man, greatly beloved by his people. Whenever he preached in London, the church was crowded to the doors. On one occasion it is said PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 211 that he was half pulled, half lifted into the pulpit over the heads of the throng. He was noted for his kind heart and his works of mercy. Upon his last journey to London he rode many miles out of his way to accom- plish the reconciliation of a father and son. That good errand accomplished, he suffered exposure to severe weather on resuming his journey, which resulted in a fever, from which he died August 31, 1688, in London. His published works, including pamphlets and ser- mons, are some sixty in number. For consistent and forceful allegory Bunyan's work has no rival in modern literature. Says Pilgrim's Macaulay : — " Bunyan is almost the only writer who ever gave to the abstract the interest of the concrete. In the work of many celebrated authors, men are mere personifications. We have not a jealous man, but jealousy ; not a traitor, but perfidy ; not a patriot, but patriotism. The mind of Bunyan, on the contrary, was so imaginative that personifications, when he dealt with them, became men." And thus the characters in Bunyan's dream have found a permanent place in the world of letters. Here for example is Pliable, who goes a little way with Christian on his pilgrimage to the Celestial City, but having fallen into the Slough of Despond, scrambles out on the nearer side and betakes himself homeward to the City of Destruction ; and here is Mr. Talkative, who delights to discourse on histories and mysteries, but can see no difference between crying out against «iu and abhorring sin. Then comes Mr. By-ends of Fair-speech, who has always had the luck to jump in his judgment with the present way of the times, who waits for wind and tide, and is for religion when he walks in his golden slippers in the sunshine and with applause. The incidents that befall the pilgrims on 212 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN their journey are subtly imagined and very sugges- tively described. Such is the fall into the miry slough because of Christian's failure to see the steps — which are God's promises ; the false guiding of Mr. Worldly Wiseman, who would send Christian to Legality's house to be relieved of his burden ; the climbing of Hill Difficulty, the encounter with the lions, the fierce combat with Apollyon — " the dreadfullest sight," says the dreamer, " that ever I saw." Bunyan's picture of Vanity Fair is exceedingly real, and so is his account of the experience in Doubting Castle, in the power of Giant Despair. Thus does Christian pursue his pil- grimage with occasional seasons of joy and refresh- ment, as in the House Beautiful, among the shepherds on the Delectable Mountains, and amid the flowers and pleasant streams of Beulah land ; but for the most part contending with the difficulties and perils of the road, until the dark and bridgeless river has been safely crossed, and he is welcomed with the ringing of bells and the blare of trumpets into the Celestial City. It is a marvelous panorama of the Christian life. Whence did this man, self-taught, derive the power to create so great a masterpiece ? The answer is plain, but none the less touches a vital point. The Bedford preacher spoke only of what he knew. The adventures of Christian and of Hopeful had been his own ; he had even entered somewhat into the martyrdom of Faith- ful. Nay, more ; the defects and vices of those waver- ers and contentious persons who were met with on the way had been thorns in his own flesh, and again here, he knew all too well whereof he spoke. Deprived of the advantages of the schools, he had studied one book until he knew it through and through ; that book was the English Bible. Not only had he absorbed its doc- trine, he had caught something of its very style. In his THE Pilgrim's Progrefs FROM THIS WORLD, TO That which is to come : Delivered under the Similitude of a DREAM Wherein is Difcovered, The manner of his fetting ou t, His Dangerous Journey; Andfafe Arrival at the Defired Countrey. / have ufed Similitudes \ Hof. 12. 10. By John Bunyan. ilicenCelianDCEnti:etiaccci?Dino:toi3D?t)er. LONDON, Printed for Nath. Ponder at the Peacock in the Poultrey near Cornhil> 1678. FACSIMILE OF TITLE-PAGE, PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, FIRST EDITION 214 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN hands the plain vernacular lost all vulgarity ; indeed, it took on the tone of epic dignity, and even caught some of that rhythmic melody that gives such rare charm to the King James version of the Scriptures. " As I walked thro the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a Den ; and I laid me down in that place to sleep : and as I slept I dreamed a dream." Thus out of his own experience and shrewd insight into human nature, with the eloquence of an earnest pur- pose and of a simple, unaffected style, he set forth these picturesque images of what to him were solemn realities ; and what had so mightily impressed John Bunyan has been recognized as true by men and women of every class and kind. 1 Richard Baxter, a clergyman in the Church of Eng- land, though in heart and zeal a Puritan, Lesser ,. . Prose; whose religious experience was in some re- Baxter, spects like that of Bunyan, was the author of 1615-91; The Saints' Everlasting Rest (1649), fa- Jeremy „. , .. .. a v ' Taylor, miliar by title, at least, even to-day. Jeremy Thomas 7 ' Taylor, also a clergyman in the Established Fuller, Church, a staunch Royalist, was the author of 1608-61 several notable works, of which the best known arc his Hides and Exercises of Holy Living (1650) and the Rules and Exercises of Holy Dying (1651), called " the choicest classics of English devotion." Their author was termed by Coleridge " the most elo- quent of divines." " Quaint " Thomas Fuller, like Baxter and Taylor an Episcopal clergyman, was fa- mous for his wit as well as for his wisdom. He wrote many books, including a Church History of Britain 1 S.c John Bunyan : His Life, Times, and Work, by John Brown, Minister of the Church at Banyan Meeting, Bedford (Houghton, Mifflin and Company). This house also publishes an edition of the Pilgrim's Progress, which contains Macaulay's Essay on Bunyan. THE AGE OF DRYDEN 215 (1655). It was Fuller who described negroes as " im- ages of God, cut in ebony." He designed an epitaph for himself, " Here lies Fuller's earth." Most familiar of all the lesser names of this group, and dear to all who delight in the fisherman's IzaakWal . craft, is that of Izaak Walton, author of The ton, 1593- Comj)leat Angler (1653), a book full of the 683 " beauty and crisp freshness of nature, and the influ- ences of a happy, loving character. Lamb said of it : " It breathes the very spirit of innocence, purity, and simplicity of heart. ... It would sweeten a man's temper at any time to read it ; it would Christianize every discordant angry passion." In 1651 appeared Hobbes's Leviathan (1651), a philosophical treatise upon the State, — a work Thomas which had a large influence upon the politi- Hobbes, cal ideas of the century. Mention should be 1588_1679 - made also of two important as well as entertaining literary productions of the Restoration period, the diaries of Pepys (variously pronounced Peps, Samuel Peeps, and Pips) and Evelyn. Pepys's Di- *|*** ary covers the decade of 1659-69. The 1703. writer was Secretary of the Admiralty, and lyn 1620 . was associated with the people prominent in 1706 - his day. His Diary is more personal than that of Evelyn, and is famous for its quaint frankness, which records the most confidential matters with a freedom and flavor that are most amusing. John Evelyn was a wealthy gentleman of Royalist family, and set forth a deal of interesting and valuable material in his Di- ary, which covers the years 1640-1704. During the period which intervened between the death of Milton (1674) and the close of the The Age century, John Dryden held the foremost place of Dryden. in English letters. By no means a great poet, as that 216 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN term is used to-day, Dryden was intellectually great, and great also in the degree of influence which he ex- erted upon the literature of his generation. In many ways he embodied the spirit of his age, just as Milton embodied the spirit of Puritan England. Dryden be- longed to the Restoration, and his compositions are amply characteristic of the temper and teaching of the time. It was the period of French influence, in both morals and art. The demands of form and style were recognized and emphasized as never before. The spirit of the age was philosophical and critical rather than imaginative. Genuine emotion was reckoned vul- gar ; men reasoned rather than felt ; they were skepti- cal rather than enthusiastic. Infinite pains were spent upon composition, and an elaborately polished style was the object of its writers. The principles of the French critic, Boileau, commended themselves to Dry- den and his admirers ; and it is Boileau's thought that Dryden has paraphrased in these lines : — " Gently make haste, of labor not afraid ; A hundred times consider what you 've said ; Polish, repolish, every color lay, And sometimes add, hut oftener take away." Instead of glorious bursts of imaginative creation, such as illuminated with unequaled splendor the age of Elizabeth and James, the writers of the new school discussed politics and ethics, developed the satire in verse as well as prose, laid the foundation of the mod- ern essay, and established a science of criticism in both art and morals. The age was inevitably prosaic, which is not saying that in the field of thought it was not a prolific or a useful age. In 1671 Isaac Newton had announced his theory of light; he published his JT > rinei}>ia in 1687. In 1690 appeared Locke's J?s- say Concerning the Human Understanding. These JOHN DRYDEN 21T were epoch-making works ; they were not products of an imaginative people, yet they are entirely expressive of the best spirit of that era. The drama was left — - the one field of literary art in which the imagina- tion still held sway ; and the drama was viciously im- moral — the public mirror in which the shamelessness of the English court found as shameless a reflection. Here also, unfortunately for his fame, John Dryden expressed the manners of his age. Among the plays of the Restoration period there are none more gross than some of his. With reference to this quality of the plays Dryden himself said : " I confess my chief endeavors are to delight the age in which I live. If the humor of this be for low comedy, small acci- dents, and raillery, I will force my genius to obey it, though with more reputation I could write in verse," — an avowal that may explain, although it by no means excuses, the fault. It should be said that this was the only form of literature that had immediate market value, and Dryden was dependent on his pen. John Dryden was born at Aid winkle, a village in Northamptonshire, August 9, 1631. He stud- ied at Westminster, and became a student of den, 1631- Trinity College, Cambridge, where he took his decree in 1654. He attained no distinction while at the University, and seems not to have cherished much affection for his Alma Mater. When Cromwell died in 1658, Dryden, then twenty-seven years of age, wrote some commonplace verse extolling the virtues of the great Protector, and two years later celebrated the ad- vent of Charles in his poem Astrcea Redux. This sudden change of sentiment, however, is not altogether derogatory to the poet, for many, even pronounced par- tisans of Oliver, looked upon the return of the Stuarts as the only road to England's security and peace. In 218 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN 1663 Dryden began to write plays for the London stage, and signed a contract to supply a stated number annually for a term of years. During this period he wrote twenty-eight plays. His tragedies, or " heroical plays," were better than his comedies, in dramatic merit as well as moral flavor. Of these The Indian Emperor (1667) and The Conquest of Granada (1672) are notable. In 1666 he produced a very long and somewhat curious poem of 304 four-line stanzas entitled Annus Mirabilis, celebrating the English vic- tories over the Dutch fleet, and describing the great fire of London, the most sensational event of this "wonder- ful year." But Dryden's power was first truly shown in his political satire Absalom and Achitophel (1681). This, tbe keenest of all political satires and most elegant, was directed against the Earl of Absalom & ° and Shaftesbury, who had plotted to secure the Achitophel. success i on f or the Duke of Monmouth. The latter, an illegitimate son of King Charles II., was loved by the king and honored with many titles. Misguided, however, by the earl, Monmouth organized the rebellion which resulted in his downfall. Dryden seized upon the parallelism between the career of this pretender and that of Absalom as recorded in 2 Samuel, and applies the parallel in remarkable detail. Shaftesbury is Achitophel, Buckingham is Zimri, Cromwell is referred to as Saul, and all the prominent nobles are to be recognized under Jewish names of David's time. For us some of the serious- ness of the satire is lost by the presentation of the dis- solute monarch as King David, and by the application of the name Bathsheba to the Duchess of Portsmouth, his most notorious mistress. The portraitures of Shaftesbury and Buckingham are unsurpassed, and are often quoted. Of the first Dryden says : — DIDACTIC VERSE 219 " A daring pilot in extremity ; Pleased with the danger when the waves ran high He sought the storms ; but for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit. In friendship false, implacable in hate, Resolved to ruin or to rule the state." A second satire, The Medal, was directed at Shaftes- bury (1682), while MacFlecknoe (1682) served to pil- lory Thomas Shadwell, an inferior poet but a rival, who had replied in satire to TJie Medal. In 1688 Shadwell succeeded Dryden as poet laureate. In 1682 Dryden published his Rellgio Laid, or Layman 's Faith, a defense of the Episcopal D i aaot i C Church against both Catholic and Noncon- Verse, formist. The poem opens with a fine analysis of rea- son : — " Dim as the borrowed beams of moon." Five years later the poet had himself turned Catholic, and in the Hind and the Panther (1687) defended the claims of Romanism more earnestly than he had argued the former cause. The Church of Rome is figured in the Milk- White Hind " immortal and unchanged,'' while the Church of England is represented by " The Panther, sure the noblest, next the Hind, And fairest creature of the spotted kind." Dryden had been made laureate in 1670. With the advent of William and Mary in 1688, the poet lost his office and his pension, but did not renounce his Catho- lic creed. Indeed, though Dryden had changed his politics and his religion at times so conspicuously apt as to arouse suspicions of his sincerity, there is reason to believe that in both he was honest. Certainly he did not turn back in the face of positive loss, as did many of his contemporaries who ebbed with the tide. During the last ten years of the poet's life he em- ployed his talents largely in translation, turning into 220 FROM BACON TO DRYDEN brilliantly polished heroic couplets the tales of Ovid and of Homer, the /Satires of Juvenal and Persius, and the ^Eneid of Vergil entire. Dry den's Vergil is one of the great translations ; it added much to his fame. He also paraphrased three of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, — Palamon and Arcite, The Cock and the Fox, and The Wife of Battis Tale. A study of these rhymed couplets, perfect as they are, with such origi- nals as Chaucer and Vergil, will explain sufficiently why the term artificial is applied to the work of Dry- den and his school. Among the minor poems but two are noted, Alex- ander's Feast, an Ode in Honor of St. Cecilia's Day (1667) and A Sotig for St. Cecilia's Day (1687). Both contain some striking examples, frequently quoted, of the correspondence of sound and sense. Among his contemporaries Dryden's authority was supreme. To them he was " glorious John ; " and he held his little court at Will's Coffee-House, where men of letters were accustomed to resort. His influence dominated the literature of the next fifty years, and the rhymed couplet was the established form of English verse until the time of Gray. In his prose Dryden was as brilliant as in verse, and his numerous pre- faces and arguments are worthy of a place among our classics. Of the character of his genius Lowell has this to say in his essay on the poet : " To read him is as bra- cing as a northwest wind. He blows the mind clear. In mind and manner his foremost quality is energy. In ripeness of mind and bluff heartiness of expression he takes rank with the best. I lis phrase is always a short- cut to his sense. . . . He had beyond most the gift of the right word. 1 " 1 Riverside Edition of LoweWs Works (Prose), vol. iii. p. 189. SAMUEL BUTLER 221 Dryden died May 1, 1700, and was buried with the poets in Westminster Abbey. The publication of the first part of JIudibras in 1663 brought literary fame to Samuel Butler. _ & J Samuel This long poem, completed in 1678, is a Butler, coarse but exceedingly witty burlesque of the Puritan cause and character. Some of its pungent lines are now familiar quotations, the source of which has long been forgotten ; for example, — " He that complies against his will Is of the same opinion still." " Look hefore you ere you leap." Butler is thought to have taken, as the original of his caricature, the person of Sir Samuel Luke, a stout- hearted, valiant Puritan squire living near Bedford. This gentleman, in whose household Butler was at one time a clerk, commanded the Parliamentary forces raised in that vicinity, and in all probability was the officer under whom John Bunyan performed military service. A REVIEW OF SEVENTEENTH CENTURY LITERATURE. The Rulers. Pkose. Poetry. James I. Bacon (1561-1626). Milton (1608-74). (1603-25). Novum Organum (1620). Lycidas (1637). Charles I. Final edition of Essays Paradise Lost (1658-65). (1625-49). (1625). Herbert (1593-1632). Commonwealth. Burton (1577-1640). Herrick (1591-1674). (1649-60). Anatomy of Melancholy Waller (1605-87). Charles II. (1621). Butler (1612-80). (1660-85). Browne (1605 r 82). Hudibras (1663). James II. Religio Medici (1643). Dryden (1631-1700). (1685-88). Hohbes's Leviathan Absalom and Achitophel William and Mary (1651). (1681). (1689-1702). Walton's Compleat An- gler (1653). Bunyan (1628-88). Pilgrim'' sProgress (1678) . Laureate (1670-88). CHAPTER V THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY FROM ADDISON TO BURNS I. The Augustan Age of English Prose. II. The Poetry of Alexander Pope. III. The Rise of the English Novel. IV. Essayists of the Second Half. V. The Romantic Movement in English Poetry. I. THE AUGUSTAN AGE OP ENGLISH PROSE. The general characteristics of English literary and social life at the beginning of the eighteenth century were the natural development of conditions immedi- ately following the period of the Restoration. The influence of John Dryden was a noticeable force in letters throughout the first half of the century. French models, as interpreted by him, and French ideals of literary style were affected by the poets and dramatists who followed in his wake. An unwise attempt to imi- tate the methods of Greek and Roman classic writers was accompanied by a natural deterioration in original- ity and in real creative power. Because of these con- ditions the period is sometimes designated as the Period of French Influence, the poets are described as belonging to the classic school, and their work is often characterized as representing the Artificial age in English verse. The eighteenth century was an age in which men measured and investigated rather than dreamed, and POLITICS 223 while poetry lost much of its spontaneity and im- agination, it gained in correctness of form & i -i i The Prose, and finish — an element not without value in its later development. On the other hand, the devel- opment of English prose during this century is truly remarkable. The easy, graceful style of Steele and Addison, admirably suited to the pleasant narrative form of the essay which they introduced, the terse, incisive keenness of Swift's satire, the elaborate, pol- ished phrase of Johnson's later prose, the clear, ade- quate English of Hume, the eloquent imagery of Gibbon and Burke — these are features which give distinction to the literature of the eighteenth century, and should be recognized as no inglorious accomplish- ment. We sometimes speak slightingly of this " age of prose ; " but it should be remembered that prose, as truly as verse, is an artistic creation, and that the lucid force of our best English style has been acquired only by stages of growth, in the course of which the achievement of these eighteenth century writers is as essential as it was remarkable. The application to this period of yet another term — that of the Augustan age — is therefore not without appropriate significance. Perhaps the student has noted already the active participation in public affairs of many of the Politlcs great writers in preceding centuries ; of those prominent in the age of Anne the same is true. The reign of Anne is famous for the growth of party organ- ization and party influence. Ever since the days of the Commonwealth, the people and their popular lead- ers are recognized as more and more important factors in the disposition of public affairs. Political contro- versy and party spirit rose higher and higher, but the tone of their expression in literature, while bitter enough in the satires of Swift, was by no means so 224 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS abusively personal as in those of Dryden ; and there was nothing at all corresponding to the brutality ex- hibited in the literary battles of Puritan and Cavalier. Argument rather than abuse became the weapon of attack ; wit superseded malicious vulgarity, and men aimed to be polite — at least in form of expression — even in the heat of debate. Koyalists and Independents were now distinguished Partie ^ v other party names. Those who supported the old principles of the Stuarts, in behalf of the royal prerogative and the supreme authority of the Established Church, were known as Tories ; while those who championed the more liberal policy of constitu- tional government and maintained the right of dissent were known as Whigs. The Eevolution of 1688, which sent James II. into exile and established a Pro- testant government under William of Orange and Mary, the elder daughter of James, was a victory for the Whigs. In 1702, upon the death of William, who survived his consort by eight years, the succession fell on Anne, second daughter of James. Anne began her reign under Tory influences, which were afterward modified by the vigor of the Whigs. The prosecution of the French campaigns under the leadership of Anne's great general, Marlborough, formed a prolific subject for party contention. The literature of the period is distinctly colored by these events ; indeed the allusions are so numerous that much of that literature is unintel- ligible without a knowledge of the conditions just described. The manners of the age were coarse, and moral „ standards still suffered, at the beefinninc: of Morals. & b the century, from the degrading influences of the period preceding; but the literature of this centupy is far from being immoral. The frankness and ADDISON 225 realism that characterize it should be interpreted in the light of its obvious purpose to inform and to correct. All the essayists were moralists, looking upon life with a pleasant perception of its humors as well as of its frailties. Quite in the spirit of Chaucer they satirized its follies and rebuked its faults. It is a proof of their sincerity that they introduced a respect for virtue and roused society to an appreciation of better things. The new position of woman intellectually is most notewor- thy. Literature now paid respect to her interests and tastes. The essays of Addison and Steele were ad- dressed as directly to women as to men, and the first novels of Richardson were planned primarily for their benefit. Before the century closed, women, too, had learned how to write, and had found a place in litera- ture for themselves. The names of Addison and Steele are naturally as- sociated by reason of their literary partner- j osepll ship in the publication of the Toiler and Addison, the Spectator. They were comrades in their 1719. school days ; both were, during the same pe- g^" riod, pupils in the old Charterhouse School 1672- in London, and for three or four years saw each other at Oxford, although not members of the same college. The graceful, polished style of Addison, the genial temper and easy naturalness of Steele — these qualities combined to introduce an entirely new form of composition, which greatly increased the at- tractive charm of our English prose. To the talents of these two men we owe the beginning of the light, familiar essay. Joseph Addison was born at Milston, in Wiltshire, the son of the rector, Lancelot Addison, who afterward became Dean of Lichfield. After taking his master's degree at Oxford in 1693, the young 226 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS man began his literary career with a poem addressed to Dryden ; and in the following year published a ver- sified Account of the Greatest English Poets, interest- ing- as a youthful essay, in which Dryden is justly praised, Spenser depreciated, and Shakespeare not even mentioned. In 1695 Addison addressed a complimen- tary poem to King William, which attracted the atten- tion of the Whig leaders and opened the road to a political career by way of literature. Four years there- after the poet was granted a pension of <£300, and, at the suggestion of the Government, went to the Continent to enlarge his experience by travel. Having visited France, Italy, Germany, Austria, and Holland, he re- turned home in 1703, recalled by the fall of the Whig party at the accession of Anne. A poetical Letter from Italy, addressed to Lord Halifax, gave Addison some repute as a poet, and, incidentally, prepared the way for a subsequent and more ambitious effort. Through the turn in his fortune caused by the political The Cam- situation, Addison found himself in extreme paign. financial difficulties. He occupied a garret up three flights of stairs in the Hay market. But in 1704 occurred the notable victory of Anne's great gen- eral, Marlborough, at Blenheim ; and in celebration of that victory, Addison, through the good offices of Lord Halifax, was commissioned to prepare an appropriate poem. Thus came his first actual success, The Cam- paign. A particular passage in this poem, exalting the generalship of Marlborough, closed with a compar- ison which made the poet famous : — " So when an angel by divine command, With rising tempests shakes the guilty land (Such as of late o'er pale Britannia passed), Calm and serene he drives the furious blast ; And. pleased the Almighty's orders to perform. Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.'' STEELE 227 Says Thackeray : — " Addison left off at a good moment. That simile was pronounced to be of the greatest ever produced in poetry. That angel, that good angel, flew off with Mr. Addison, and landed him in the place of commissioner of appeals — vice Mr. Locke, providentially promoted. In the following year, Mr. Addison went to Hanover with Lord Halifax, and the year after was made under-secretary of state." * Addison's public services were rendered mainly by his pen. He afterward entered Parliament, but on account of diffidence rose to speak but once, and then, without speaking, abruptly sat down again. Richard Steele, in many points the direct opposite of his friend, was born in Dublin, the son of an English attorney, secretary to the lord- lieutenant of Ireland. Left to the care of an uncle by the death of both parents, while Steele was yet a child, he was placed at the Charterhouse School, and sent to the University in 1692. His impulsive temper was exhibited three years later, when he suddenly left Ox- ford and enlisted as a private in the Horse Guards. He was soon promoted to a captaincy, but resigned his commission, and, through Addison's influence, was ap- pointed official gazetteer, with a salary of X300. Im- provident but good-humored and light-hearted, " Dick " Steele, as he is still affectionately called, is one of the universally attractive characters in English literature. It is indicative of his passing moods that while under confinement for dueling in 1701, he wrote a manual of devotion entitled The Christian Hero, and when disturbed by the coolness with which his effort was re- ceived by his associates, he wrote two or three indiffer- ent comedies to counteract the serious impression. He also gave some time to the search for the " philosopher's 1 Thackeray, English Humourists. 228 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS stone." Macaulay, in his Essay on Addison, states the case vigorously, but not without truth. Steele, he says, " was one of those people whom it is impossible either to hate or to respect. His temper was sweet, his affections warm, his spirits lively, his passions strong, and his princi- ples weak. His life was spent in sinning and repenting ; in inculcating what was right, and doing what was wrong. In speculation he was a man of piety and honor ; in practice he was much of the rake, and a little of the swindler." In 1709 was launched the enterprise which brought Periodical Ul ^° a °tive expression the characteristic tal- Literature. en ts of both Steele and Addison. Steele be- gan the publication of the Tatler. While the ap- pearance of this little sheet was indeed something of a novelty to readers of that day, Steele's venture was by no means the first in periodical literature. During the period of the Civil War preceding the Commonwealth, the heated controversies of the time gave rise to a large number of weekly publications representing the differ- ent sides. In 1663 the Government determined to mo- nopolize the right to publish news, and established a journal called The Public Intelligencer, which gave place to The Oxford Gazette, and this, in turn, to The London Gazette in 1666. The office of gazet- teer became a regular ministerial appointment, and it was to the control of this journal that Steele was him- self appointed, at Addison's suggestion, in 1705. In 1702 The Daily Oourant was established. It ran for thirty years, and perhaps deserves the distinction of being the first real newspaper in England. That re- markably industrious and versatile writer, Daniel De- foe, entered the field with his little Review 2 in 1704. 1 See page 268. PERIODICAL LITERATURE 229 This publication was not merely political in its scope, but included news items, articles suggested by them, and occasional essays. There was one department con- ducted under the head of The Scandalous Club ; and SCENE IN A TYPICAL ENGLISH COFFEE-HOUSE From the heading of an old Broadside of 1674. this feature of Defoe's Review, together with the es- says on themes of popular interest, undoubtedly sup- plied the hint which brought the Tatler, the Sjiec- tator, and numerous similar publications into the field. At the date when Steele brought out his Tatler there were at least a dozen newspapers, so-called, appearing in London regularly on post days, which were Tues- 230 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS days, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and half that num- ber published on the alternate days of the week. There was another feature in the social life of this The coffee- period as intimately related to the essay Houses. writing of Steele and Addison as was the ex- istence of this periodical literature ; this was the insti- tution of the London coffee-house. In 1652 coffee was first introduced into England as a beverage of common use, and houses of public entertainment where coffee was dispensed became the common places of resort for masculine society. According to one authority there were three thousand coffee-houses in England in 1708, when Steele was beginning to plan for the issue of his little paper. Some of these resorts filled the place of the modern club. In London, men of affairs thronged the coffee-houses daily, so that these became the com- mon exchanges of news, and also of ideas. Among those oftenest mentioned were Garraway's, where tea was first retailed ; the Jerusalem, one of the earliest of all the news rooms ; Jonathan's, the resort of the bro- kers in 'Change Alley ; Lloyds', the precursor of the noted exchange for marine intelligence, and headquar- ters for marine insurance at the present day ; Tom's, in Cornhill; Dick's, and Will's. At this last-named house it was customary for men of literary tastes and professional men to gather ; here John Dry den had oc- cupied the seat of honor in his day, having his chair placed on the balcony in summer, and in winter occu- pying the warmest nook in the room. Pope was brought thither when a child, that he might at least look on the great man and hear him speak. Swift and Addison, as well as Steele, were frequent guests. Cur- rent gossip of the bookshops and the theatres circu- lated among its stalls. Students from the universities, clergymen in gown and cassock, scribblers of many THE COFFEE-HOUSES 231 ranks, thronged the rooms, blue with tobacco smoke, where they chatted and listened by turns. It was in this very atmosphere that the Tatler was born ; the tone of easy familiarity, the vivacious wit, the ready omniscience of the coffee-house oracle — all were plea- santly infused by Steele into the pages of his genial Tatler, and by both writers into the Spectator after- ward. Both papers abound in allusions to these re- sorts. Steele's first number, in outlining the plan o{ the new periodical, states that " all accounts of gallantry, pleasure, and entertainment shall be under the article of White's chocolate-house ; poetry under that of Will's coffee-house ; learning under the title of Gre- cian [so named because first managed by a Greek] ; foreign and domestic news, you will have from St. James's coffee- house [headquarters for the Whigs] ; and whatever else I have to offer on any subject shall be dated from my own apartment." This programme was for some time adhered to in the arrangement of the paper. In his character of the Spectator, Addison has this to say in the first issue of that periodical : — " There is no place of general resort wherin I do not often make my appearance ; sometimes I am seen thrusting my head into a round of politicians at Will's and listening with great attention to the narratives that are made in these little circular audiences. Sometimes I smoke a pipe at Childs', and while I seem attentive to nothing but The Postman, 1 overhear the conversation of every table in the room. I ap- pear on Tuesday night at St. James's coffee-house, and some- times join the little committee of politics in the inner room, as one who comes to hear and improve. My face is like- wise very well known at the Grecian, the Cocoa-tree, and in the theatres both of Drury Lane and the Haymarket. I 1 Title of a newspaper. Compare Thackeray on these periodicals in •lis English Humourists. 232 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS have been taken for a merchant upon the Exchange for above these two years ; and sometimes pass for a Jew in the assembly of stock-jobbers at Jonathan's." Having reviewed thus the conditions so favorable to The the new experiment, it is easy to see how the Tatier. conception of that famous little sheet, the Tatler, developed in the sanguine mind of Richard Steele. Humor was an element which had not yet ap- peared — intentionally — in the publications then cur- rent ; but Dick Steele was a humorist of genuine and happy type. In the first issue of his paper the spirit of his genial, lively nature found prompt expression, and to the pervasive presence of this agreeable quality must we assign in part the immediate popularity of his enterprise. Something of a serious purpose is also avowed by the author in the dedication of the first com- pleted volume : — " The general purpose of this Paper is to expose the false arts of life, to pull off the disguises of cunning vanity and affectation, and to recommend a general simplicity in our dress, our discourse, and our behavior." The Tatier appeared on post days, three times a week ; the sheet was small, and sold for a penny ; the first number was issued April 12, 1709, the last, Janu- ary 2, 1711. Contributions were accepted from various writers, some of whom were not identified until the publication of the final volume. Addison, who de- tected the personality of Steele on reading the sixth number, contributed forty-one of the papers, and, in conjunction with his friend, wrote thirty-four others ; but of the 271 Toilers 188 were written by Steele. Two months after the cessation of the Tatier Steele was ready with a new venture, and March 1, 1711, he issued the first /Spectator. In this publication Joseph THE SPECTATOR 233 Addison soon became the dominant spirit, and with the essays published in this most famous of TheSpec- the literary periodicals his fame as an Eng- tator> lish writer is most closely connected. He wrote 274 of the 555 numbers which composed the first series, and twenty-four of the second series, which appeared in 1714. Of the 635 numbers included in both the first and second Spectator, Steele produced 240. The famous " Club," which forms the most impor- tant feature of the periodical, was originated by Steele ; but Addison so elaborated and appropriated the char- acters of its members, particularly that of Sir Roger de Coverley, the amiable country squire, that this por- tion of the work is justly attributed to him. The success of the Spectator surpassed that of its predecessor. There was no attempt to furnish the news ; each number contained a finished essay. In the tenth number the Spectator declares, in his own character : — " The mind that lies fallow but a single day sprouts up in follies that are only to be killed by a constant and assiduous culture. It was said of Socrates that he brought Philosophy down from heaven to inhabit among men ; and I shall be ambitious to have it said of me that I have brought Philoso- phy out of closets and libraries, schools and colleges, to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea-tables and in coffee-houses." That the hopes of the essayist were not disappointed may be inferred from the following letter, printed in Number 92 of the periodical : — " Mr. Spectator, — Your paper is a part of my tea- equipage ; and my servant knows my humor so well that, in calling for my breakfast this morning (it being past my usual hour), she answered the Spectator was not yet come in, but the tea-kettle boiled, and she expected it every moment." 1 J This was a genuine communication from a Miss Shepherd. 234 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS The statement has been made that the paper reached a circulation of 10,000 copies ; upon some special occasions this may very possibly have been true. In 1713 Addison's tragedy of Cato was produced with notable success. Contemporary critics were extravagant in its praise. Pope wrote a prologue ; Swift, with whom Addison had been on hostile terms owing to party antagonism, joined in the general congratulation. Cato was translated into French, Italian, German, and even into Latin. Vol- taire called it " the first reasonable English tragedy." Yet Addison's drama is an artificial work, formal, pas- sionless ; it embodies the prosaic spirit of the time and does not rise above the rules of art which that age deemed correct. It is classic in form as in subject and follows strictly the law of the unities. It is highly rhetorical and lofty in tone. Cato's soliloquy, begin= ning " It must be so — Plato, thou reasonest well ! — Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? " is a familiar passage introducing a really impressive scene. Addison's marriage with the Countess of Warwick Closing * n 1716 was followed by further political ad- Years, vancement. He became Secretary of State in 1717, retiring with a pension of X1500 in the following year. Unhappily, political differences, aggravated by Steele's carelessness in money obligations, induced a quarrel between these old-time friends which was never healed. Steele in Hie Plebeian, and Addison in Tlie Old Whig, engaged in a stormy controversy, which was ended by the death of Addison in 1719. Steele con- tinued to busy himself with various journalistic schemes, largely of a partisan character, establishing successively SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 235 The Englishman, The Reader, The Plebeian, and The Theatre. He had quarreled with Swift, had obtained and lost a seat in Parliament, held some minor offices under George L, again entered Parliament, and con- tinued writing till his death in 1729. The influence of these two essayists was not confined to literary form ; both were moralists in purpose, as we have seen, and Addison, particularly, infused a spirit of clean and wholesome morality into the literature of the century. The naturalness of Addison's expression is its most con- spicuous quality. He seems to have written just suggestions as he would have spoken ; and Pope declared that J™* 116 , • ii i • ■ • v Study of his conversation had something m it more charm- Addison's ing than he had found in that of any other man. 1 Prose. Addison's vocabulary should be noted, particularly the use of familiar and common terms. In examining the sentence form it would be well to get the proportion, approximately, of sentences which have a loose structure and those which are periodic. The directness of the style is noticeable ; he advances to his point without deviation, and never goes out of his way to secure a fine effect. Compare Addison's prose with that of Bacon, noting the different degrees of brevity, and the manner which characterizes each. In the study of Addison, however, the important point is to find the personal quality, the individuality, of the man, which is of more value than the elements which make up the Addisonian style. His humor and his wit should be studied to see whether his satire is bitter or sharp. Is his tone cyni- cal, or does it voice a spirit in sympathetic touch with his fellows ? A comparison has been sometimes drawn between Addison and Steele to the advantage of the latter in this re- spect. In his reading the student will naturally turn to those fa- miliar sketches of the Club which are chiefly occupied with 1 Spence's Anecdotes. 236 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS the history and portraiture of attractive old Sir Roger. The reader should ascertain the reasons for the creation of this, and the other lesser characters. What purpose are they in- tended to fulfill ? The essay contained in the second Spec- tator will make clear the general plan, as Steele designed it ; and the fourth Spectator shows us Addison's introduction of the characters in a typical debate. The portrait of Sir Roger deserves careful study, for it represents outside the drama the first actual accomplishment in the delineation of real character drawn direct from English life. The student should become acquainted with other of Addi- son's essays besides those contained in tliis attractive group. Macaulay suggests the reading, at one sitting, of the two Visits to Westminster Abbey, the Visit to the Exchange, the Journal of the Retired Citizen, the Visio7i of Mirza, the Transmigrations of Fug the Monkey, and the Death of Sir Roger de Coverley. To these should be added several of the papers which deal with some of the trifling follies of fashion and manners, such as The Fine Lady's Journal, Party Patches, The Exercise of the Fan, and Household Superstitions. Nor should we omit altogether the critical essays, like that upon Chevy Chase, and the essays on Milton. A convenient edition of the Sir Roger de Coverley Papers will be found in Numbers 60, 61, of the Riverside Litera- ture Series (Houghton, Mifflin and Company). Macaulay's Essay on Addison is a classic, and Thackeray's portraits of both Addison and Steele in his English Humourists are most vivacious studies of these men and their age. Chapters upon the so-called newspapers of that day, and upon the coffee-houses and clubs, will be found in Courthope's Life of Addison, in English Men of Letters Series, and in W. C. Sydney's England and the English in the Eighteenth Cen- tury (Macmillan). Johnson's Addison, in his Lives of the I'oets, is interesting ; and the brief essay introducing the volume of selections from Addison, edited by J. R. Green (Macmillan), is particularly valuable. Upon the life of Steele tlie biography by G. A. Aitken is authority. Austin Dobson's Life of Steele, in the English Worthies Series, is JONATHAN SWIFT 23? a good, brief biography. A careful reading of Thackeray's great novel, Henry Esmond, will prove as profitable as it will be entertaining ; no more vivid picture of this period in English history has ever been produced. Jonathan Swift is the foremost English satirist in prose. It is no easy matter to arrive at a j onathan just interpretation of this man's character. ^"' 1745 One of the keenest of wits, he was for the first thirty years of the eighteenth century the intellec- tual master of his age. Although his remarkable tal- ents received scant recognition from those in power, his influence in moulding public opinion was extraor- dinary ; and for a brief period he appears a conspicu- ous figure among the party leaders whose measures he supported by the sharpness and vigor of his pen. Imperious, caustic, at times brutal, in the strenuous expression of his views, he domineered over friends and foes. In the height of his success in London he once sent the Lord Treasurer into the House of Commons to call out the principal Secretary of State in order to say that he would not dine with him if he intended to dine late. He warned Lord Bolingbroke, the head of the Tory government, not to appear cold to him, for he would not be treated like a schoolboy. " If we let these great ministers pretend too much," he says, " there will be no governing them." Yet the life of Dean Swift was embittered by disappointment and clouded with melancholy. Early in life he felt the premonitions of brain disease, and foretold the mental decay in the gloom of which his great genius was to expire. "I shall die like that," he said once, while walking with the poet Young, pointing to a tree whose branches were dead at the top. To the subtle working of disease we must attribute some of the 238 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS eccentricities of Jonathan Swift ; to that, too, in part, the terrible cynicism with which he looked on human- ity at large. Swift was horn in Dublin, of English parentage. Early Diifi- His father, wno na ^ held some minor clerk- cuities. ship, was already dead when his son was born, and there was scarcely the barest provision for the family support. For many years Mrs. Swift was de- pendent on her brother-in-law, Godwin Swift, under whose direction and by whose aid Jonathan was sent to school at Kilkenny, where he had for a school fel- low William Congreve, afterward the most popular play-writer of that generation ; and then to Trinity Col- lege, Dublin, later the college of Goldsmith and Burke, During his youth Swift led a rather wild and stormy life, neglecting his courses at will, although, independ- ently of his curriculum, he read widely in history and literature. In 1686 he was given a degree " by special favor." Disappointed and vexed at his mishaps, Swift always recurred to this experience with bitterness ; for his uncle's assistance he expressed only sarcastic con- tempt. In 1688, the year of the Revolution, Swift came of necessity to England, and soon found employ- sntin ment with Sir William Temple, a kinsman, England. W ] 1Q nac j re tired after a distinguished public career and was living at Moor Park in Surrey. 1 As a member of Temple's household this proud and mor- bidly self-conscious youth again found himself depend- ent on the generosity of a patron, occupying a position somewhat above that of a servant, and subject to con- ditions exasperating to one of his temperament and gifts. As Sir William's secretary, however, he enjoyed many advantages ; there was time for study, and his 1 See Macaulay's Essay on Sir William Temple. THE FIRST SATIRES 239 failure at the University was now largely redeemed. 1 Here, also, was opportunity to observe the methods of party policy and leadership, with favorable introduc- tion to the men most prominent in affairs of state. King William himself took note of the young man, and made promises of advancement which, unhappily, were never fulfilled. Upon the death of Temple in 1699, Jonathan Swift went back to Ireland as secretary to the Earl „ ... Swift as a of Berkeley, the lord deputy. The year after Church- he accepted the Church living of Laracor, man * which he retained for ten years. Swift had taken Church orders in 1694, and however unfortunate his choice of a profession may appear, — a profession for which both by temper and talents he would seem to have been singularly disqualified, — we do not find him at this period or later disregarding his duties or slighting his obligations to the Church. In 1701 he went to England on ecclesiastical business at the instance of the Bishop of Dublin ; and during the years 1701-10 was able to divide his time between Laracor and London, so that about half of each year was passed in a society far more congenial to his ac- tive, vigorous mind than that afforded by an Irish vic- arage. When Swift appeared thus in London, his name was not unknown to that circle of scholars and TheFlrst politicians, professional men and wits, who Satires, gossiped at the coffee-houses, where Congreve, the dra- matist, Matthew Prior, the poet, Dick Steele, editor of The Gazette, and the dignified, rather reticent Mr. Addison, now rapidly advancing in the good graces of the Whigs, were among the most brilliant of the lit- 1 Swift received the master's degree in 1692 from Oxford, and in 1701 that of LL. D. from Dublin. 240 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS erary group ; for this capable representative of the Irish Church was generally known to be the author of two pamphlets which had already brought him no small fame, in spite of the fact that they had circulated anonymously and were not published until 1704. These were his two satires The Tale of a Tub and TJie Battle of the Boohs. The first was written in 1G96. Although the first of Swift's serious efforts, it remains not only the most perfect of his essays, but stands as perhaps the best example of the prose satire in English. Its whimsical title is explained in the preface by reference to the fact " that seamen have a custom, when they meet a whale, to fling him out an empty tub by way of amusement, to divert him from laying violent hands upon the ship." The ship, in this case, may stand for the Government, including the two- fold relations of Church and State ; and this pamphlet is tossed out to those who are hostile to religion and government, in order to divert their attacks. In this satire occurs the famous parable of Peter, Martin, and Jack (typifying the Roman Church, the Church of the Reformation, and the Calvinists), who inherit coats, exactly of one pattern, with specific directions as to how they shall be worn. The manner in which these three sons succeed in evading the terms of their father's will is described with blunt vigor and much pictur- esque wit. So strong is the satire, and so bold the handling of themes more or less sacred, that charges of irreverence and even of blasphemy were laid against the daring young writer, and Swift's subsequent failure to reach the higher preferments of the Church may be attributed to his authorship of this tract. The work diil, however, give him immediate standing among the strongest writers of the day. The Battle of the Books was a slighter effort, bright BICKERSTAFF 241 and spirited and distinctly humorous in tone. Sir William Temple had become involved in a protracted discussion over the comparative merits of ancient and modern literature, and into this not very dignified squabble his keen-witted secretary (it was in 1696-97) injected the humor of his burlesque. The satire sup- plies a mock-heroic narrative of the encounter and disasters which occur in a desperate battle fought be- tween the ancient and the modern books. Sir Wil- liam's enemies are utterly destroyed, the two most conspicuous champions being neatly spitted together on a single lance. With Addison and Steele, Swift was for several vears more or less closely associated, although Bickerstafi. he afterward quarreled with both. He con- tributed papers to the Tatter, and himself originated the character of Isaac Bickerstaff', which Steele as- sumed when he launched that paper upon its pleasant career. Among the petty superstitions which were then prevalent, against which much of the mild satire of Addison and Steele was subsequently directed, was a vulgar belief in the assumptions of astrology ; and one of the more prominent quacks of the day, who lived upon the ignorance and folly of the common people, was a so-called astrologer by the name of Par- tridge. In 1707 Swift published, under the name of Bickerstaff, certain predictions for the ensuing year, among which he foretold the death of Partridge upon a date which he fixed by the formulae of the science itself. Although the victim of the joke protested that he was still alive after the date fixed for his demise, Bickerstaff proved publicly that he must be dead ; and other humorists supported the assertion so effectively that the would-be astrologer was fairly laughed out of business if not out of existence. The circumstance 242 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS gave such prominence to the name of Isaac Bick&rstajf that Steele was glad, as a matter of advantage, to appropriate it to his own use. But Swift's activity was employed in other and more The Pell- serious directions than in the mere play of his ttcian. w it. IJ e h a( j a genius for politics ; was prob- ably the great political genius of his time. From the Whigs, with whose party successes Addison's advance- ment had been so closely associated, he never received that recognition which his abilities deserved, and their indifference to his talents drove him out of that party in disgust. In 1710 the Tories again came into power; Swift was cordially welcomed to their council, and the period of his prominent participation in national poli- tics begins. For eight months he conducted The Ex- aminer, a weekly series of political essays wholly the work of his own pen. In 1711 he prepared a pamphlet on The Conduct of the Allies, his strongest political paper. Swift was now urging his claims on the Govern- ment, but not until 1713 did he receive his tardy pro- motion to the not very desirable office of Dean of St. Patrick's in Dublin — the highest appointment he ever attained. Following the accession of George I. in 1714, and the downfall of the Tory cabinet, his public career was closed ; in thoroughly pessimistic mood he returned once more to Ireland and settled down to his estate, nursing his grievances and quick to arraign the blunders of those now in power. Along with the numerous pamphlets and articles devoted to party affairs and Church interests Journal in Ireland, we owe to this period of London to steiia. residence a volume of rare interest ; this is the series of letters comprised in Swift's Journal to Stella. Esther Johnson was a young woman in the Temple household, almost a child when Swift was filling THE JOURNAL TO STELLA 243 his position of secretary to Sir William. He had di- rected her studies at that time ; although many years his junior, her personality had greatly attracted him, and after the death of their common patron their inti- macy continued. The relations between this bright, talented girl and the brilliant, imperious genius to whom she was devoted are not fully known. There is a tra- dition that they were married, but there is no evidence of such an event, which is unlikely. Of their mutual affection there is no doubt. It throws a softer light upon the inner life of this singular man to know that after his death there was found among his papers a little package inscribed " only a woman's hair ; " the lock thus treasured was Stella's. The correspondence itself is an actual diary of Swift's life during the years 1710-13 ; and in these letters an entirely new phase of his personality is shown. Not only are the daily experiences, trivial as well as notable, vividly recounted ; the meetings with prominent per- sons, the intercourse with great men of which he was so proud ; the influence he exerted, the flattery paid to his own talents, the gossip of coffee-house and club, of cabinet and parlor : not only does he draw deft por- traitures of all the great lions, — than whom none roars more impressively than the great Dean himself, — but here Swift lays aside, for the only time in his career as a writer, the mask of mockery which he assumes in every other public expression of his thought. In play- ful, affectionate terms he writes to this woman as a parent might write to a child, using the " little lan- guage " of a jocular tenderness which employs abbrevi- ations and resorts to a cipher code. This Journal gives us an invaluable reproduction of the men and manners of that age ; it also gives us almost our only glimpse of the real heart of Jonathan Swift. 244 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS After his return to Ireland in 1714, the Dean in- TheDrapier terested himself more and more in Irish Letters. affairs, and not infrequently expressed his mind in some vigorous tract, always anonymously and almost always with that terrible irony so characteristic of his style that his identity was easily guessed. The most notable of the Irish papers are The Drapier Let- ters, published in 1724. This series of papers was in- spired by an act of Government licensing an English speculator to coin copper half-pence for circulation in Ireland, where coins of small denomination were much needed in trade. The terms of the patent sanctioned what seemed to be a gross robbery of the Irish people, and aroused an indignant resistance. In the midst of the transaction Swift, anonymously, published these pamphlets, signed " M. B., drapier," and addressed to " the tradesmen, shopkeepers, farmers, and country peo- ple in general of the kingdom of Ireland." Shrewdly impersonating the character of a plain Dublin draper, the author assailed the scheme, arguing the ruin of Ireland if the plan were adopted. There were four of the letters, and their effect was immediate. Not only did the Government recall the contract, but Swift him- self, when identified as the writer of the Letters, be- came a popular hero among the Irish people. It is as the author of Gulliver that Jonathan Swift Gulliver's is best known to the world, — a work so sin- Traveis. gular in its purpose and so distinct in literary method that it stands by itself in literature, like the Utopia of Sir Thomas More and the Pilgrim's Pro- gress of John Bunyan. The Travels consists of the narrative of Lemuel Gulliver, first a surgeon, and then a captain of several ships, who, in four remarkable voyages, discovers the island-empire of Lilliput, the country of the Brobdingnagians, the flying kingdom of GULLIVER'S TRAVELS 245 Laputa, and the disagreeable land of the Houyhnhnms. 1 The first of these narratives is exceedingly amusing ; here the discoverer sojourns among the little people, who attain a stature of six inches ; their houses, furni- ture, domestic animals, forests, fruits, and grains are all in due proportion to the size of the inhabitants. In the land of Brobdingnag these proportions are exactly reversed ; the grass grows twenty feet in height, the hedges are at least one hundred and twenty feet tall, while the trees are too lofty to be measured. Here Gulliver, the man-mountain, as the Lilliputians termed him, is studied like an insect by his new captors, with the aid of a magnifying glass. In the third voyage the satire grows more pointed. The court of Laputa is composed of musicians and scientists, who live wholly in the air ; their feet never touch the earth, their heads are in the clouds, and naturally, their minds are usually befogged. Adepts in music and mathematics, they par- ticipate in the harmony of the spheres and express their ideas in lines and figures. Their tailors take their measure by quadrant and compasses, but as mis- takes are frequent, their clothes are ill-made and fit poorly. In their royal university of Lagado philoso- phers are at work on all manner of absurd problems : one is engaged in extracting sunbeams from cucumbers ; another is designing a method for building houses by first constructing the roof ; the projector of specula- tive learning is busy with a device for compiling a complete body of all arts and sciences, through the means of a machine which shifts about a great number of little blocks, each inscribed with a single word, and is operated by turning a crank. It is, however, in the fourth and final section of his work that Swift's satire 1 This apparently unpronounceable name is suggested by the whinny of the horse and is pronounced whinnems. 246 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS finds its most savage and virulent expression. The last voyage discovers a land where the horses are endowed with reason, while the Yahoos, a race of repulsive creatures resembling human beings in form, are char- acterized by the most degrading and disgusting traits conceivable in brutes. Here the cynicism and misan- thropy of the satire are overwhelming. The experi- ences of Gulliver among the tiny Lilliputians, and his adventures among the good-natured giants of Brob- dingnag, may be read with amusement ; the observations chronicled upon the unpractical philosophers of Laputa and Lagado provoke our admiration through the very sharpness of their caustic yet truthful touch : but this last narrative is intolerable. It gives a fresh signifi- cance to a line in one of Swift's letters to Pope — " but principally I hate and detest that animal called man ! " And yet such is the smoothness of his diction and the marvelous realism of his fiction, that Swift's Gidliver has for generations been the delight of children, who have found in the rich imagination of the story all the fascination of a fairy tale. While we give such prominence to the satires of The spirit Swift, we must not forget what an important of the place was filled by the satire in the literature of that age. If Dean Swift was the greatest of the satirists, all of his contemporaries in letters were satirists each in his degree. Two writers of the Resto- ration period, Butler and Dryden, had not only estab- lished their fame by the use of satire in their verse, but they had also established that form of literature in popular favor. The influence of literary fashions in France, and the revival of interest in the Latin classics, confirmed this popularity among scholars of all depart- ments ; both prose writers and writers of verse were devoted to the composition of satires, and the spirit of LAST YEARS 247 the time found no more characteristic expression than through this form of literary art. Just before leaving England to enter upon his duties as Dean of St. Patrick's, Swift had joined with three distinguished contemporaries, Alexander Pope, John Gay, and John Arbuthnot, in an agreement to produce a series of satires upon the follies of men. This was the genesis of the Scriblerus Club, and Arbuthnot's once famous work, The Memoirs of Martinus Scrib- lerus, was one outcome of this undertaking. Pope's E})istles and Swift's Gulliver were at least in keeping with the purpose of this association. The end of Swift's story is sad enough. Stella had died in 1728, and the shadow of his own in- ^^ ^^ firmity gradually developed until his once brilliant mind was hopelessly clouded. " It is time for me to have done with the world," he wrote to Boling- broke ; " and so I would, if I could, get into a better before I was called into the best, and not die here in a rage, like a poisoned rat in a hole." There were pe- riods when he was violently insane ; at other times he appeared sunk in a state of lethargy. He died October 19, 1745, and was buried in his own cathedral church of St. Patrick's, where, in accordance with his request, his body was placed by the side of Stella. His fortune, amounting to £12,000, he bequeathed to establish an asylum for the insane ; and upon this foundation St. Patrick's Hospital was opened in 1757. " An immense genius," says Thackeray ; " an awful down- fall and ruin. So great a man he seems to me, that think- ing of him is like thinking of an empire falling. We have other great names to mention — none, I think, however, so great or so gloomy." Thackeray's picture of Swift's career is perhaps too 248 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS dark. It was Swift's misfortune to view the world cynically ; to observe its follies and its crimes distorted to extravagant proportions. It was his weakness that he should have devoted his splendid energies to the uses of ridicule and scorn rather than to the expression of sympathy, encouragement, and faith ; yet it is a su- perficial judgment which reports of Jonathan Swift as merely the misanthropic censor of his race : the record of his literary life is a record of vigorous, outspoken defiance against incompetence and sham ; his motives are not those of a petty quarrelsome nature ; they are, for the most part, inspired by the discovery of some abuse, or the threatened injustice of a tyrannous power. If he appears inordinately ambitious for influence, it was to wield it for others' good, not to possess it for himself. Read Thackeray on Swift, in English Humourists, and Bibliogra- Johnson's Life in his Lives of the Poets. Leslie P h y- Stephen is the author of the biography in the English Men of Letters Series. Henry Morley has edited an excellent edition of Gulliver 's Travels in the Carisbroohe Library (Routledge, London). Another volume of this Library includes a number of the minor writings. The Tale of a Tub is given entire, together with other essays, in a vol- ume of the Camelot Series (W. Scott, London). Selections from Swift, edited by F. C. Prescott, is published by H. Holt, and another volume of selections, edited by C. T. Win- chester, is published by Ginn and Company. The Little Masterpieces Series, edited by Bliss Perry (Doubleday, Page and Company), contains a volume of selections from characteristic papers. Sir Walter Scott edited the Works of Swift, together with a valuable Memoir. The Prose Works have been edited recently by Temple Scott (George Bell, London). ALEXANDER POPE 249 II. THE POETRY OF ALEXANDER POPE. The great representative poet in this age of prose was Alexander Pope. He was the legitimate successor of Dryden, for whom his admiration Pope, was intense even as a child, and whose pol- 1688 " 17 ■ ished form of composition, developed to a wonderful perfection, Pope made the model of English verse for more than half a century. While incapable of great variety in either the spirit or the expression of ideas, his mind was extraordinarily brilliant in its aptness for epigram and in its use of satire, the inevitable instru- ment of literary genius in his day. It is no less char- acteristic of his time than of his own peculiar talents that Pope's most distinctive works are didactic compo- sitions entitled Essays, or satirical poems upon man- ners, morals, and literary themes. He rarely intro- duced any other metre than that of the heroic couplet, which he handled with a facile art which makes him the undisputed master of that particular verse form. No other English writer except Shakespeare has pro- duced so many lines which have found a permanent and familiar place in our literature. Yet Pope's defects are as notable as his excellences. He has no true per- ception of the realities of nature, no power to paint her beauty or her grandeur, much less to interpret her teaching or her mysteries ; he never rises to the heights of human passion ; he brings no message of profound importance to the world. Like his great contempora- ries in prose he ridicules the stupidity of men and spec- ulates in philosophy and ethics. Pope's place in litera- ture is, however, one of high distinction ; he adequately voiced the mind of his age in verse, and as a represent- ative of the purely literary life he is the most com- manding figure not only of his age, but of the entire century. 250 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS Alexander Pope was born in London, May 21, 1G88. H1 B m His father, a wealthy linen draper, was a hood. Catholic, and, in common with the followers of that creed, suffered from the intolerance of the time. Owing to the bitter feeling engendered by the Revolu- tion, and childish fears of Jacobite uprisings, Catholics were subjected to great annoyance and deprived of many natural privileges and rights. Their children were not admitted to the public schools. The poet's training was unsystematic ; he studied with various tutors, but mainly by himself. He was a precocious child, and at a very tender age showed some ability in making verse. His own words are : — " While yet a ehild, nor yet a fool to fame, I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came." Homer and Ovid were his delight, although he knew these classics better through translations than in the original. The English poets Waller and Spenser, above all Dryden, especially impressed him. Before he was fifteen years of age he undertook to write an epic poem with the title of Alcander, Prince of Rhodes, of which one couplet remains extant : — " Shields, helms, and swords all jangle as they hang, And sound formidinous with angry clang." In the year following the poet's birth his father had removed to Binfield, a small town not far from Wind- sor and on the border of the famous forest ; here the poet's childhood was passed, except for a period of two or three years when he was sent to London to study French. It was at this time, when he was perhaps ten years old, that Pope got his glimpse of the great Mr. Dryden. V&rgiHwm tantum vidi he wrote in his re- cord of that memorable day when, at his own importu- nate request, he was taken by some friend to Will's Coffee-IIouse, and gazed at the first poet of the time as EARLY POEMS 251 he sat in his accustomed chair. It was not long after- ward that William Walsh, a critic of some authority, gave the young verse maker his famous word of coun- sel. " Be correct," said he ; " we have had great poets, but never one great poet that was correct." Pope's earliest productions worthy of note are his Pastorals, published in 1709, but written, Ear i y according to his own account, when he was Poems - only sixteen years old. These compositions may be re- garded as the exercises of a schoolboy practicing the metrical art, but they prove the possession of unusual gifts. The classical spirit dominates ; they are eclogues after the Vergilian model. They are four in number, one for each of the four seasons, and suggest the influ- ence of Spenser, whose Shepherd's Calendar they somewhat resemble. The poem Windsor Forest, the direct product of the young poet's environment, appeared in 1713. Here again the machinery is altogether classical. " Not proud Olympus yields a nobler sight, Tho' Gods assembled grace his towering height, Than what more humble mountains offer here, Where, in their blessings, all those Gods appear. See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd, Here blushing Flora paints th' enamel'd ground, Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, And nodding, tempt the joyful reaper's hand ; Rich Industry sits smiling on the plains, And peace and plenty tell a Stuart reigns." Such a mingling of Roman mythology with modern English history cannot fail to be incongruous, but its absurdity was not generally felt in Pope's era. So Diana with her buskined nymphs is allowed to stray unchallenged over the dewy lawns of Windsor ; the Muses sport on Ceoper's Hill ; great Scipio, Atticus, and Sir William Trumbull are celebrated impartially in the same couplet. 252 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS Of more distinguished merit than these poems is the Essay on Criticism, which falls chronologi- on cnti. cally between the compositions just described. clsm ' It was written when Pope was but twenty-one, and published in 1711. In this brilliantly phrased Essay Pope covers, superficially, the entire field of contemporary criticism. He offers nothing new ; there is no particular originality in the thought. His ma- terial is absorbed largely from the writings of Boileau and Bossu, representing the canons of French taste which had been accepted by Dryden and his school. These doctrines are reenunciated by Pope, combined with the common truisms of literary art. In the phrasing and the form which he gave to these ideas, however, there was a freshness and finish, a wonderful aptness and brilliancy of style which were entirely novel and remarkably impressive. On all sides the work was praised. The French critics conceded that at last a composition of merit had been produced by an English writer ; and Pope was welcomed by his contemporaries as a rising genius. The diction of this poem is especially admirable for its terseness and ele- gance ; the compact form of the couplet lends itself easily to epigram, and Pope's witty lines, sometimes singly, sometimes in pairs, quickly found a place in the literature of familiar quotation. " Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do." " For fools rush in where angels fear to tread." " To err is human, to forgive divine." " A little learning is a dangerous thing ; Drink deep or taste not the Pierian spring." Such passages, lavishly scattered through this essay, illustrate the choice use of words, the strong antithe- sis, and the generally epigrammatic character of Pope's distinctive style. THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 253 The serious teaching of the poem is that nature is the only standard by which to judge an author's work : — " First follow Nature and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same." But, says the poet, study nature as interpreted by the rules of classic art : — " Those rules of old discovered, not devised, Are Nature still, but Nature methodised. Hear how learned Greece her useful rules indites, When to repress and when indulge her flights. Be Homer's works your study and delight — Read them by day, and meditate by night ; Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims bring, And trace the Muses upward to their spring." This is a fair expression of Pope's artistic creed ; he followed it consistently to the end, and in his devotion to the classic model — which, unfortunately, he viewed not directly, but through translation — he imposed upon English poetry qualities which justify the use of the epithet artificial, now generally applied to his own work and that of his school. In 1714 appeared the Rape of the Lock, Pope's most brilliant achievement during this first TheRape period of his career. This composition is es- of the teemed as the finest example of the mock- heroic in English verse — a humorous epic, half satire, half burlesque. The basis of the poem is an adventure of trivial character: a young nobleman, Lord Petre, had given offense to a Miss Fermor by stealing a lock of her hair ; and out of this lover's quarrel developed Pope's sparkling verse. No more vivacious trifle ex- ists in literature ; wit, fancy, elegant diction, have here wrought to produce a masterpiece of the airiest type — " the most exquisite specimen of filigree work ever in- 254 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS ven tod." 1 No better example of the artificial style can be found than in this poem as a whole. Coffee is prepared for the entertainment of guests, and thus does Pope describe the process of its preparation : — " For lo, the Board with cups and spoons is crowned, The berries crackle, and the mill turns round ; On shining altars of Japan they raise The silver lamp ; the fiery spirits blaze ; From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide. While China's earth receives the smoking tide." The climax of humorous fancy is reached in the ac- count of the actual clipping of the lock and the disas- ter which befalls an attendant sylph who tries in vain to defend the heroine from loss. Two other compositions of this period, the Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady and the Epistle ofEloise to Abelard (1717), have been classed justly as rhetorical poems. 2 In the one last named Pope came as near as was possible for him to the expression of human passion ; but his deficiencies in this field are painfully evident. Passion of any kind lay outside the experience of this generation, and literary talent of the age made little attempt to reach its heights ; when Pope aspired to be dramatic, he produced only fervid declamation. In the early part of 1713 the poet first met Jonathan Swift, and a friendship was begun which, un- Transiation like most of Pope's friendships with contem- porary men of letters, was unmarred by petty quarrels, and continued unbroken till the death of the poet in 1744. There is an interesting account by Bishop Kennett which describes a scene in the ante- chamber of a Secretary of State. The room is crowded with men of note who are waiting for an audience. 1 William Hazlitt. a Leslie Stephen. POPE'S TRANSLATION OF HOMER 255 The great satirist is the most conspicuous figure, bus- tling about, imparting advice, promising assistance to this and that cause, whispering in the ear of one great man, browbeating another ; all at once he is heard to declare that the greatest poet in England, Mr. Pope, a Papist, has begun a translation of Homer, for which subscriptions must be forthcoming ; " for," says he, " the author shall not begin to print till I have a thou- sand guineas for him." The first volume of Pope's Iliad appeared in 1715, the sixth and last volume in 1720. This translation of the Iliad is commonly re- garded as Pope's greatest work, but its merit does not lie in its faithfulness to the original ; many of Pope's contemporaries conceded that. Richard Bentley, scholar and writer, declared in a phrase much quoted, that it is " a pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but you must not call it Homer." Although the spirit of the Greek poet is absent in Pope's version of the epic, the transla- tion is, nevertheless, a masterpiece ; one critic * cites the following passage as unsurpassed for finished ver- sification in English poetry : — " The troops exulting, sat in order round, And beaming fires illumined all the ground. As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, O'er Heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light, When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene ; Around her throne the vivid planets roll, And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole, O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain's head." In this description Pope rises to his highest reach of power ; but, truly, his verses are not Homer. Strangely enough for one attempting such a task, Pope was practically ignorant of Greek. His " trans* 1 Mark Pattison. 256 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS lation " is based entirely on other renderings, French and English. When he undertook the Odyssey, the poet secured the assistance of two Cambridge scholars, Browne and Fenton, who performed at least half the work. So artificial, indeed so mechanical, is the style of Pope that these minor writers were able to imitate his versification perfectly. There is no better evidence than this of the truth expressed in Cowper's couplet upon the poets of his time, who " made poetry a mere mechanic art, And every warbler had his tune by heart. " Since the year 1718 the poet had been living at Twicken- Twickenham, a pleasant country town upon ham - the Thames, not many miles from London. Here he occupied the villa made famous by his resi- dence, diverted himself with his garden and his grotto, surrounded by that curious combination of nature and art so attractive to eighteenth century taste. Here Pope entertained many distinguished guests ; for he was now recognized as the first of living poets, and honored by persons of distinction in all fields. Alone among his contemporaries, he gave himself wholly to the vocation of letters. The French philosopher Vol- taire paid him a visit. Henry St. John, Lord Boling- broke, whom Pope addressed affectionately as " guide, philosopher, and friend," was for a time his neighbor, and a frequent guest. So too were Thomson, the poet of The Sai sons, and Lady Mary Wortley Montague, the most brilliant woman of that day. But Pope quar- reled outrageously with Lady Mary, after having ad- dressed her in most ridiculous strains of gallantry, and in reply to some coarse and insulting epigrams was described as the " wicked little wasp of Twickenham," — an epithet which was upon occasion well deserved. THE DUNCIAD 257 There were many littlenesses in the personality of Pope : his frail body was full of fret ; he was suspi- cious, jealous, and irritable. So full of tricks and falsehoods was he that one of his friends affirmed that he never took tea without a stratagem. The littleness and greatness of Pope appear equally in his next im- portant work, The Dunciad. This famous satire had its genesis in that association of clever writers who composed the Scrib- T h 6 lerus Club, the inspiration likewise of Swift's Dunciad - Gulliver, as well as of the less known satires of Ar- buthnot, Atterbury, Gay, and Parnell. Swift and Pope, it is needless to say, were the dominant spirits of the coterie. Gulliver's Travels appeared in 1726, and in 1728 Pope published The Dunciad. Originally in three books, it was afterward revised and republished with an additional book in 1742. The immediate plan of the satire follows that of Dryden's MacFlecknoe. Its serious purpose is to make war upon the dunces ; and with all the flash and polish of his most brilliant style, Pope here pillories the mob of minor poets, critics, and romancers of his day. He has given immortality to some names that had better been ignored, and incidentally has stooped to the abuse of writers whose only fault was to have offended Pope. With Addison, Pope had quar- reled, over some imagined injury, years before ; the essayist had been dead ten years when The Dunciad was published ; yet the old resentment finds expression in lines cruelly unjust to the memory of one who had befriended the poet in his youth, and whose character was happily beyond the reach of such attacks. There is something ludicrous in this spectacle of genius em- ploying its greatest powers to square off some petty quarrel. The second publication of The Dunciad af- 258 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS forded an opportunity to settle more accounts. The original hero of the epic had been Lewis Theobald, who had incurred the enmity of the poet by his rigor- ous criticism of Pope's attempt to edit Shakespeare in 1725 ; but another character was enthroned as hero in the edition of 1742, Colley Gibber, the most popular actor and dramatist of the age, whose principal offense was that in 1730 he had received the honors of poet- laureate, an office for which he had no qualifications, and which brought only injury to his fame. Every writer with whom Pope had ever had a tilt was merci- lessly lampooned in this epic of Duncedom. At first only the initials of the luckless authors were inserted, but afterward the names appeared in full, and foot- notes were added which were often libelous in their assertions. No better essay in the gentle art of making enemies was ever devised than TJie Dunciad ; and it was characteristic of its author that he took pains by flattery and craft to forestall retaliation by resort to law. Three prominent peers were prevailed upon to act as nominal publishers of the work ; the king and queen were publicly presented with copies, and the report was circulated that the satire was issued under the patronage of these distinguished personages. The Dunciad is a stronger work than Dryden's MacFlecknoe, but it does not approach in dignity or force the great political satire of Absalom and Achito- phel. It is pungent and polished ; it is also abusive and malicious. Although it is common to refer the spirit and tone of this satire to the influence of Jona- than Swift, it is impossible thus to excuse the virulence and coarseness, the petty personalities and rank injus- tice that inevitably mar this work. Its merit as litera- ture depends upon passages which are remarkable for their skill in characterization, and upon that terse and THE MORAL ESSAYS 259 finished style which gives distinction to all of Pope's composition. The best work of Pope's third period, the work of his later years, is in the Moral Essays, of T i! eMoral which the Essay on Man is most conspicu- Essays, ous. The poet was now strongly influenced by his friend Bolingbroke, the brilliant politician and former Secre- tary of State, who posed also as a moralist and philoso- pher, although insincere in his professions of morality and superficial in thought. Of Bolingbroke's philoso- phy, however, Pope was a professed admirer, and it was this philosophy which the poet strove to embody in his Essay on Man. The plan of the work as a whole was ambitious and worthy of even greater genius than that of Pope. It was no less than to develop a system of morals dealing with man in various relations, social, political, and religious. Unhappily, the defects of his own uncertain logic betrayed Pope into inconsistencies and falsities. Even Bolingbroke remarked that the author of the Essay was " a very great wit and a very indifferent philosopher." The result of the poet's rea- soning brought him to the statement of blank panthe- ism : — " All are but parts of one stupendous whole, Whose body Nature is, and God the Soul." The central thesis of the poem, " Whatever is, is right," admits of altogether too general application for any but the most radical philosophy ; and Pope was far from occupying the position into which his real igno- rance of any system had betrayed him. When accused of heterodoxy, he was amazed ; and he was inexpres- sibly shocked to find his poem eulogized by Voltaire and applauded by the atheistical leaders in France. The Essay had appeared complete in 1734, and in 1738 Pope published his Universal Prayer to modify 260 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS the impressions produced so generally by his unsuccess- ful effort to " vindicate the ways of God to man." In spite of its errors, however, the Essay on Man is an impressive composition. Again the poet displays his consummate art in phrase and verse, the deft use of language that rivets the inevitable word in its place and turns a couplet or a single line into an epigram as enduring as literature itself. " Honor and shame from no condition rise ; Act well your part : there all the honor lies." " For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight ; His can't be wrong whose life is in the right." " Vice is a monster of so frightful mien As to be hated needs but to be seen : Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace." " Know then thyself, presume not God to scan, The proper study of mankind is man." To be sure, Pope's treasury of wit includes little more than the commonplace truisms of the race ; he acknowledged as much in a familiar couplet, and was content to give them a form which might impress their truthfulness on the minds of men. 1 Pope's other works included satires, translations, Minor an( l imitations, with occasional poems which Poems. ( { not ca ll f or special notice. Like Dryden, he modernized two or three of the Canterbury Tales, but was w r ise enough to refrain from the attempt, sug- gested by a friend in the Scriblerus Club, to " civilize " the Samson Arjonistes. 1 " True wit is nature to advantage dressed ; What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed." Essay on Criticism. SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 261 In 1744 there cauie the end to that life which was " one long disease." Whatever may be the feelings excited by those perversities of dis- position, the ill-temper, the falsehood, the treachery, of this peculiar character, Pope always commands admira- tion for his persevering industry and brave resistance to racking pain. Johnson tells us that the poet suf- fered cruelly from headache ; that his frail, deformed body could hardly be kept erect without the aid of a stiff canvas bodice into which he was laced every morning ; that he could not dress or undress without assistance. In condemning the unnaturalness and af- fectation of Pope's literary style, it must be remembered that this was the common fault of the artificial period in which he lived. His contemporaries acknowledged his supremacy. Addison and Swift placed him among the peers of song. In vivid portraiture, in grace and elegance of diction, in the "happiness" of phrase, which distinguishes the masters of wit, in the terse vigor of his couplets, the correctness of his verse, in all those qualities which give distinction to poetry of the second rank, Pope is preeminent; upon this level of his art he leads. In the progress of English poetry it was no misfortune that it should receive the impress that came from the work of Alexander Pope. The Globe Edition of Pope's Poetical Works (Macmil- lan) is the best for students' use. The Intro- Suggestions ductory Memoir by the editor, Mr. A. W. Ward, for study - should be carefully read. A good volume of Selections from the poet's works is edited with notes by E. B. Reed (Holt). Leslie Stephen's Pope, in the English Men of Letters Series, and W. J. Courthope's Biography of the poet are authori- tative. Dr. Johnson included Pope in his Lives of the Poets, and there are notable essays upon Pope by Thackeray, in his English Humourists, Lowell, in My Study Windows, 262 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS and De Quincey, in the Biographical Essays. All the promi- nent writers on eighteenth century literature have discoursed upon Pope. For special study the student may best select the poem Windsor Forest, the vivacious Rape of the Lock, the Essay on Criticism, and the Essay on Man. The peculiarities of Pope's personality, the theories and conception of his art, held by him and by the writers generally of that age, his own methods of versification, the dash and polish of his style, together with its limitations and its defects, will hardly escape the observant reader. The reiteration of Pope's only metrical form, the heroic couplet, will impress that structure upon the memory as the characteristic verse form of the Augustan age. I. Windsor Forest. As this is largely a " nature " poem, study its descriptive parts. How does Pope see nature, anil what points does he emphasize in description ? Recall the studies of Chaucer and Spenser, and compare the natural- ness and realism of their pictures with those of Pope. Con- sider the " pastoral " element in this poem ; read Pope's Discourse on Pastoral Poetry, prefixed to his earlier poems. As you note the incongruities of this composition, note also passages which contain poetic beauty. What is the plan of the poem as a whole ? II. The Rape of the Lock. This poem is to be read, of course, in the spirit of the burlesque which it is, — a form of composition then in great favor. Recall the success of Butler's Hudibras (1663) and Swift's Battle of the Books (1704). Many interesting hints of contemporary manners and social usage may be gathered from the poem ; the de- scription of the belle's toilette and the account of the game at cards are especially vivacious, as well as humorous pic- tures of the time. Are there not also passages of real satire in the work ? What is the tone of the poet's comments upon woman ? Miss Fermor, the heroine of the piece, was heart- ily out of temper with the poet because of his portraiture : was she justified ? In its earlier form the poem did not con- tain the parts which introduce the sylphs and gnomes ; this SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 263 was an afterthought of the poet. Consider how much of the wit and elegance of this humorous masterpiece is due to their airy presence. Whence did Pope get this idea ? III. Essay on Criticism. It would he well to outline the parts of this essay. What is the general topic considered in the first fifty lines ? Note the important place assigned to nature in establishing the standards of criticism ; then note how her principles and laws are to be interpreted (lines 88— 89). Consider the influence of the classic on Pope's thought. What ancient poets does he propose as models ? Where is the error in Pope's theory (lines 139-140) ? What force is there in his next suggestion (lines 152-153) ? He is still speaking of the ancients : see how he tempers his statement (lines 163-166). In part II. the poet warns the critics against particular faults : what are the errors thus enumer- ated ? In what sense does he use the term conceit (line 289), the word numbers (line 337), and why? Throughout the poem the word wit is frequently used in varying senses (as in lines 17, 28, 36, 53, 61, 80, 297); compare these lines and indicate the meaning which the poet intends the word to have in these places ; what is the etymology and original meaning of wit ? Point out such marked illustrations of Pope's happiness in epigram as are found in this poem. Study the passage (lines 337-383) in which the poet has tried to express something of the sense of his verse through its effect upon the ear ; see especially lines 357, 369-373. Occasionally Pope breaks the monotony of the couplet by adding a third rhyme, as in lines 23-25 ; where else do you discover this ? The pronunciation of that period will account for some of Pope's peculiar rhymes, as none: own (lines 9, 10) ; joined: mankind (lines 186, 187) ; but defective lines may be found, and also constructions which are grammati- cally defective, as in the couplet (lines 9-10) " 'T is with our judgments as our watches, none Go just alike, yet each believes his own." IV. Essay on Man. Follow a course similar to that suggested in the study of the last poem. The Arguments 264 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS prefixed to the JSpistles will help in the analysis. Why did Pope address this work to Lord Bolinghroke ? Look up the record of Bolinghroke's career and find out the facts of his political and literary achievements. Of the numerous minor poets who followed Pope in his use of the couplet, and who exhibited the "School" characteristics of the artificial school, the fol- ope- lowing are the most prominent. Matthew Prior (1664-1721) was a poor boy in Dorsetshire when discovered by the Earl of Dorset reading Horace behind a tavern bar. By the generosity of that noble- man he was sent to Cambridge. Later he entered poli- tics, became Secretary of State for Ireland, and finally Ambassador to France. With Pope and Swift he joined in the project of the Scriblerus Club and wrote satirical poems and tales. John Gay (1685-1732), a member of the same distinguished group, was especially noted for his Beggar s Opera (1728), conceived also with satire as its intent. His Shepherd's Week (1714) consists of six burlesque pastorals. Trivia (1715) is a satire upon city life. The characteristics of this school are found in the work of Edward Young (1684—1765). The Last Day, a part of which appeared in The Guardian (1713), and TJie Universal Passion, a series of satires (1725-1728), are in the rhymed coup- let. Night Thoughts (1742-1744), a lengthy moral essay in nine books, is written in blank verse. It con- tains passages of beauty and strength, but its impres- siveness is due to its rhetorical quality rather than to spontaneity or passion. In the poetry of Thomson, James Thomson, however, another key is struck. A real appreciation of nature gives distinction to his Seasons, — four long poems in blank verse. It is refreshing to find even within THE RISE OF THE ENGLISH NOVEL 265 the lifetime of Pope a spirit of simple pleasure in the naturalness of nature, such as is conveyed in these lines from Thomson's Summer: — " Hence, let me haste into the mid-wood shade, Where scarce a sunheam wanders through the gloom ; And on the dark-green grass, heside the brink Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large, And sing the glories of the circling year." Thomson was a Scotchman ; a graduate of Edin- burgh, he had come to London and was making his living as a tutor when he found a publisher for his poem on Winter, in 1726. That on Summer followed in the next year, and Spring was published the year after. The poem on Autumn did not appear until 1730. Thomson wrote several plays and many vigor- ous songs, of which Rule Britannia is best known. The Castle of Indolence (1748), his last important work, is in the old Spenserian stanza, and suggests the indolent languor of its theme with consummate effect. The charm of nature is always present in the poetry of Thomson. Undisturbed by the tastes and influences of the artificial school, he pursues his independent course, and sounds the note which grows clearer and stronger in the latter half of the century, until it reaches its fullness of tone in the songs of Robert Burns. III. THE RISE OF THE ENGLISH NOVEL. It is customary to date the beginning of the English novel at about the middle of the eighteenth century, when Samuel Richardson and Henry Fielding intro- duced, to a large and delighted circle of English read- ers, what appeared to be a distinctly new form of literary creation. But the essential quality in all works of fiction is the story, and it is to a far earlier period 266 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS than this that we must look for origins in this depart- ment of literature. The love of the story is as ancient as the race, and The Real the art of story-telling is as old as literature. Beginnings, As we have seen, the spirit of the story-teller held undisputed sway in Saxon hall and Norman castle, where gleeman and minstrel moved their rough audiences at will. The genius of the true story-teller lived in Chaucer ; indeed his sketches of the Canter- bury pilgrims, and particularly his portraitures of char- acter in the metrical romance of Troilus and Criseyde, bring his work in very close relation with the produc- tions of the novelists themselves. The prose romances of the Elizabethan age, the artificial compositions of John Lyly, of Sidney, of Lodge, and of Nash, together with the scores of imitations and translations which were in vogue at the close of the sixteenth century, exhibit comparatively little of that realistic quality essential to the novel. The spirit of these narratives was frankly unreal, and the art of the Elizabethan romancer was directed as far as possible away from the realities of common experience. The creations of the great dramatists were infinitely nearer the life of hu- manity. Nature, if she found any interpreter at all, spoke not in the romance but in the play. There was, however, one development of the fictitious narrative in that age which was significant of a new interest in the details of real life. This we find in the rogue romance, a natural outgrowth of the older romance of chivalry, which had supplied the Spanish and Italian models for Sidney's Arcadia and the works of that class. In both Spain and Italy these rogue stories were extremely popular. The hero of the adventures recounted was always a rascal, clever, impudent, immoral ; his career was one of intrigue and scandal. The Spanish word DANIEL DEFOE 267 picaro (rogue) gave to this group of stories the name picaresque; and by this name they are usually de- scribed. Numerous translations of Italian novelle had made the material familiar to English readers, and the romance of roguery became popular in England. The Pilgrim's Progress may, in a way, be identified by its method with this class of works, how- Fore . ever widely divergent in spirit and tone. At J" 1 "" 16 "- all events, Bunyan's hero, struggling amid the perils of the world, was a very real character to the devout Puritan who eagerly turned its pages. Many a pious reader of that day, with head bent over the record of Christian's falls and Christian's triumphs, must have whispered softly to himself, while tears rolled down his cheeks, " It is I ; it is I ! " Hardly more than a step was needed to usher in the novel : that was to drop the allegory and to describe men and women in the rela- tions familiar to us and amid the surroundings of the world in which we live. Still more significant of the coming narrative than even the story of Bunyan's pil- grim was the appearance of that genuine character from English country life discovered by Steele and Addison. Sir Eoger de Coverley is one of the per- sonalities of English fiction, although the portraiture is presented only in a series of sketches, and belongs neither to the novel nor the stage. But a real beginning in the art of novel writing was made when, in 1719, Daniel Defoe published his inimitable narrative, Rob- inson Crusoe. Defoe was a prominent figure among the busy men of letters who, by their intellectual strength Daniel and the elaborate elegance of their literary Defoe, form, gave character to English literature in the age of Anne. He was not only contemporary with Addison, Steele, and Swift, but was engaged in the 268 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS same political battles ; his interests were as keen, his services perhaps as notable as theirs. Like the rest he was a moralist, and although less skillful than they, used satire as his weapon. Yet while thus employed, sometimes opposing them, sometimes cooperating with them, he was never personally of them. By birth and inclination Defoe was democratic. His father was a butcher, plain James Foe, who knew nothing of the pre- fix to the family name, which for some shrewd reason his son assumed when about forty years of age. Self- reliant, courageous, enterprising, inventive, Daniel De- foe made the interests of the people his study. In- deed he did this often to his own disadvantage, for his personal interests were sometimes sacrificed or for- gotten, and business failures were frequent incidents in his peculiar career. Defoe's parents were well-to-do people of the trading Personal class, living in London, where he was born in Career. 1659 or 1660. Although never in attendance at either of the universities, Daniel Defoe received a good education at an academy in Newington, then under the direction of Charles Morton, " a rank Inde- pendent," as his enemies called him, who in 1685 emi- grated to America, and eventually became vice-presi- dent of Harvard College. Defoe seems to have been blessed with an inquisitive mind, and to have been curi- ously concerned to elucidate his own theories and correct the opinions of others. With astonishing energy he threw himself into the active life of his age, won fame as a political writer, both in pamphlets and periodicals, established one of the first newspapers, the little Re- view, which he conducted for some eight or nine years, moralized in print upon almost every conceivable theme, composed ballads and satires, which won the hearts of the people, and at sixty years of age made « iiilii REPRODUCTION OF ORIGINAL FRONTISPIECE IN FIRST EDITION OF ROBINSON CRUSOE (1719) 270 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS his name immortal b} r writing a story which, if not actually the first English novel, still holds its place among the finest achievements in English fiction. The narrative of Robinson Crusoe is based upon the Robinson story of Alexander Selkirk, a Scotch sailoi\ Crusoe. w j 10 j ia( j Deen abandoned by his comrades on the island of Juan Fernandez, off the coast of Chili. There he had remained solitary for five weary years, although he had succeeded by his skill, and with the cooperation of nature, in providing not a few comforts in the midst of his solitude. In 1711 he was discovered and brought back to England, where his story soon became known and attracted much curious attention. He remained for a time in Bristol, and thither went Daniel Defoe to see him, probably soon after his re- turn ; at this meeting he secured all of Selkirk's papers. At about the same period Richard Steele interviewed Selkirk, and printed an account of the latter's adven- tures in his paper The Englishman. Defoe made no use of his material for several years, but, in 1719, pub- lished his great story. This volume at once took its place by the side of Bunyan's book as one of the peo- ple's classics. The publisher cleared £1000. Edition followed edition. Several spurious abridgments were published. A whole literature of adventure followed, and, even in Europe, numerous fictitious accounts sug- gested by Defoe's narrative enjoyed a continuous suc- cess. All classes of readers were fascinated by this work. Within four months the book had reached its fourth edition, and since the day of its appearance its popularity has never waned. " Was there ever any- thing written by man," said Dr. Johnson in the next generation, " that was wished longer by its readers ex- cept Don Quixote, Robinson Crusoe, and The Pil- grims Progress ? " OTHER NARRATIVES 271 It is important to know the secret of Defoe's power as a writer of fiction. Wherein lay the mas- The Realism tery that could create such absorbing inter- ot Defoe - est ? The key to Defoe's success is found in his minute attention to detail. He had the ability, as few writers have possessed it, to place himself in the situation of his characters, to see and think and feel, with them. Placed thus and thus, he would reason, what should I desire and how should I provide ? And so he became fertile in expedients. No one can forget the feeling of isolation experienced in common with his shipwrecked sailor, nor the self-congratulation that follows the safe arrival of each necessary article brought from the wreck to increase the little store in Crusoe's cabin. The critic Minto points out Defoe's discovery that narrative should be plain rather than adorned. He chose the simplest language at command and thus at- tained " the dullness of truth." In 1722 Defoe published his Journal of the Plague Year. He had been but a boy of five when other Nar . this dreadful visitation ravaged the city of ratives. London, and could have recalled little or nothing of that event ; but his account is so minutely circumstan- tial and so vivid in its simple, commonplace details, that it has been accepted, often, as a genuine diary of the time. The Memoirs of a Cavalier (1720) is pos- sibly an historical work ; it was quoted as history by Lord Chatham in Parliament : but it is written in the same form of personal biography which we find in De- foe's fictions, and, even if based on fact, owes its effect to the extraordinary realistic power of its author. Dur- ing the five years following the appearance of Crusoe, in addition to the two works just named, Defoe pub- lished four lengthy narratives remarkable for their real- istic power. These were : The Life, Adventures and 272 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS Piracies of the Famous Captain Singleton (1720), Moll Flanders (1722), The History of Colonel Jaeque (1722), and Ro.ua/at (The Fortunate Mistress) (1724). A half dozen minor narratives, including ac- counts of the highwayman Jack Sheppard, the French criminal Cartouche, and " the Highland Rogue," Rob Roy, belong to the same period. As will be readily seen, these works represent the picaresque type of lit- erature. Moll Flanders is the portraiture of a com- mon thief, who escapes from Newgate, is transported to America, there reforms, and writes the record of her career. Roxana depicts the character of a notorious courtesan and is a study of crime in aristocratic circles. The hero of Colonel Jaeque was born a gentleman, put apprentice to a pickpocket, was six and twenty years a thief. In people of the criminal class Defoe took a curious interest ; his acquaintance with their experi- ences, both as rogues and as penitents, probably began during his confinement in Newgate as a political offender in 1703-4. In all these tales the author appears as a rigid moralist, inculcating lessons of warning skimmed from the experience of vice. " Every wicked reader," runs the preface to Colonel Jaeque, " will here be encouraged to a change ; and it will appear that the best and oidy good end of a wicked and mis- spent life is repentance." This is the burden of Moll Flanders' message ; and thus these characters preach to the end. Of all these works J/oll Flanders is the most realistic ; by some critics it is given the highest place in the fiction of realism, although in popular interest it cannot compare with Defoe's real masterpiece, Robinson Crusoe. Defoe continued active in politics to the last. In spite of his literary success his business affairs were THE NOVEL 273 generally in confusion, and he was often in sore straits because of his creditors. The close of his life is ob- scure, but he was in hiding, even from the members of his own family, when his death occurred in London, in 1731. His wonderful activity as a writer is proved by the fact that his publications numbered no less than 250 distinct works. Strictly speaking, Defoe's imaginative compositions are not novels, although their material is drawn from real life. They are rather narratives of adventure, in which the interest is aroused by the succes- sion of incidents rather than by any substantial study of manners or character. Now the novel as a specific art form is distinctively a picture of life in its actual experiences, grave or gay, familiar or extraordinary. It always includes the presentation of character that is, or has been, or might be real. In its highest devel- opment the novel proposes a more or less accurate study of how cause and effect apply in the moulding of character. The novel may exhibit extreme ingenuity and dramatic intensity of situation and plot, but it must not depend upon these alone for its interest ; and there are obvious bounds of probability and taste which must not be transgressed. Moreover, it must possess artistic form. Starting with a given situation it should proceed logically and naturally to its inevitable con- clusion, which is developed through the influence of character upon character, plus the dominating power of incident and fate. The narrative throughout must be a unit ; the motive forces should not be so numer- ous as to distract attention from the one central idea which controls our interest. Unity is for the most part secured by deftly weaving the threads of individ- ual fortune into a compact strand ; and this is com- monly achieved by developing a close interrelation 274 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS between the subordinate personages and the principal personage, the hero or heroine, of the story. There should be no episodes or side-trackings in the progress of the plot. Incidents should be introduced because necessary to the narrative, and so arranged as to stimu- late interest as the tale proceeds. The novelist must appreciate the laws of climax and dramatic effect. In the largest sense of the word, lie must be an artist. One might go on to say that the novelist needs also to be a clear-sighted, clear-brained philosopher ; for how otherwise may he assume to hold the mirror up to na- ture and say, Behold things as they are ! Not all of these requirements, it is true, are met in the Samuel works of Samuel Richardson ; nevertheless, Richard- ^he quality of his work is such that he is son, 1689- u J 1761. usually named the first English novelist ; and his narrative Pamela, published in 1740, is accepted as the first real English novel. Like Defoe, Richard- son belonged to the trading class. He was a printer and publisher. He early developed a genius for corre- spondence, and there is a familiar story which states that he wrote the love letters of two or three young women with whom he was intimately acquainted. His life is devoid of any public interest until the advent of his fiftieth year, when two booksellers proposed to Richardson that he should write a little book in the form of a series of letters dealing with the affairs of daily life. These letters were to serve as models in letter writing for those who had not acquired the art. Then it was that this sedate printer caught the idea of embodying vital interest and practical admonition in the execution of the plan. Basing his plot upon the .u I venture of a young woman whose experience had come to him through the anecdote of a friend, he wrote the story of Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded. SAMUEL RICHARDSON 275 Defoe Lad employed in his stories the machinery of a fictitious autobiography. Richardson fol- Pamela, lowed the same method, but threw his mate- rial into the form of correspondence. Pamela An« drews, the heroine of the novel, is left, through the death of a good woman who has befriended her, some- what in the power of her benefactress's son. This gen- tleman, a type of the fashionable man of the world in that day, makes various assaults upon the honor of the young woman, whose character is exemplary, and who successfully repulses his advances, while compelled by circumstances to submit to endless persecution. Finally, however, Pamela's virtue is " rewarded " by the complete conversion of the reprobate, " Mr. B.," and the offer of an honorable marriage, which the heroine modestly and gratefully accepts. The novel is prolix to tediousness ; yet it is marked by some obvious ex- cellencies. It shows ingenuity of invention, its action is consistent, and there is a close and realistic study of details. The story of Pamela aroused an intense in- terest, and the novel received enthusiastic welcome. Clarissa Harlowe was published in 1748. In this novel Richardson describes another contest „. . . Richard- between vice and virtue. This heroine has to son's Later contend against the brutality of her own heartless relatives, who insist upon her marriage with a man whom she detests ; her trials are intensified by the persistent persecution of the profligate Lovelace, who represents the type of the cruelly selfish and licen- tious man of fashion in that era. Richardson's sym- pathy with womanhood was genuine and intelligent; his constant recognition of woman's dignity and rights is a conspicuous quality in his works. The novelist attempted finally to give to the world his conception of the " gentleman ; " and in the novel Sir Charles 276 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS Grandison (1753), he paints " a man of true honor " as he understands him. " Could he be otherwise than the best of husbands, wbo was the most dutiful of sons ; who is the most affectionate of brothers ; the most faithful of friends ; who is good upon principle in every relation of life ? " Thus exclaims the hero's wife, when, at the comple- tion of the story, she too is rewarded for her virtues by the bestowal of this paragon upon herself. Henry Fielding, contemporary and literary rival of He Richardson, was a man of very different type. Fielding, He was of an aristocratic family, had been educated at Eton, and had studied law at Leyden. He was a writer of comic plays, lived a gay, reckless life, and in three years had squandered his own and his wife's property. Although admitted to the bar in 1740, he was never successful as a lawyer. Fielding became a writer to support his family ; he be- came a novelist to ridicule the author of Pamela. It was natural that Fielding should laugh at Richardson. The latter writer, while an apt moralist, was not a skillful artist ; with Fielding this comparison was quite reversed. He perceived that Richardson's characters were not natural^ and seized his opportunity. Joseph Andrews (1742) was begun as a parody on Pamela. In Fielding's story Joseph is presented as the brother of Richardson's heroine, and is discovered under cir- cumstances similar to those in which the girl was placed, with a complete reversal of conditions. Jo- Beph's master has died, and it is the widow who perse- cutes the young man with her attentions. The story turns upon Joseph's rejection of her overtures, and the various fortunes and misfortunes of the hero until hap- pily married to the girl of his own choice. Fortunately HENRY FIELDING 277 for Fielding's fame as a novelist, he seems quickly to have forgotten his first object, that of ridicule, and to have become honestly interested in the fortunes of his characters. He depicted them with the untrammeled freedom and boisterous vigor of his day. The novel is coarse if judged by the standards of the present ; but it is brimful of nature, and faithfully reflects the spirit of English life in the eighteenth century. Fielding had discovered his power, and his next novel, Tom Jones (1749), surpassed in every point the novel already de- scribed. Tom Jones is always placed among the best novels ever written ; but it must be judged, morally, by the standard of its age. It is marked by the same blunt realism which colors Joseph Andrews. The hu- mor is coarse, though genuine. The manners depicted are usually the bad manners of that generation, and the " virtues " of the hero are by no means those of Sir Charles Grandison. But again Fielding was faith- ful to nature in his portraiture. He produced real characters. The personality of Squire Western, and that of Tom Jones himself, are irresistible, and will always remain distinct figures among the great crea- tions of English novelists. In Amelia (1751), Field- ing's last novel, he presents a portrait of his wife, who had died several years before ; some qualities of her personality had previously been portrayed in the char- acter of Sophia, the heroine of Tom Jones. Fielding's part in the development of the realistic novel is most important. He started it upon its great career. Thoroughly in love with life himself, blessed with a keen sense of humor, filled with an excess of physical vigor and healthy animal spirit, he had no pa- tience with the sentimentalist or the professional moral- ist, although he always claimed that his novels, as well as his plays, were intended to produce a distinctly moral 278 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS effect. Theoretically, he denied that the " hero " ex- ists, and made no effort to gloss the defects and vices of his characters. In the works of Smollett the picaresque quality is again dominant. This writer was a Scotch Smollett, surgeon, with a taste for adventure, who had served for four years on one of the king's ships. His knowledge of the sea and of the sailor's life supplied him material for his most important char- acters, all of which belong to the eccentric type. His first novel, Roderick fi dndom, was published in 1748; Peregrine Pickle (1751), a more vigorous work, is disfigured by the immoral character of its hero, but presents one of Smollett's most successful portraitures, the eccentric character of Commodore Trunnion. Other novels followed, including, as the most impor- tant, Ferdinand, Count Fathom (1754), Sir Launce- lot Graves, (1762), and Humphrey Clinker (1771). These all illustrate the literature of roguery, and owe tnore to the influence of the French story-teller Le Sage than to Fielding. Sterne was an Irishman and an officer in the army : later he entered the Church and became Laurence sterne, Prebend of York. The six volumes of his 1713-68. published sermons, however, are less known than his humorous fiction The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman. It is impossible to describe this whimsical work as a novel, for it is a cleverly constructed series of sketches (originally in nine volumes) which detail with great accuracy and minute circumstance the incidents attending the na- tivity of Tristram Shandy : the hero of the story docs not appear in his own proper person, except as narrator of this unique autobiography. The character painting is excellent, the personality of Uncle Toby standing THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD 279 out above and beyond the rest. Uncle Toby, who still suffers with the wound received in the French wars, yet so patient of injuries that he would not harm a fly, — Uncle Toby, the innocent victim of the wily Widow Wadman, — Uncle Toby and his body servant Corporal Trim — as much a part of Uncle Toby as is the latter's wig or stick, — this amiable, honest, brave, sentimental Uncle Toby is one of the best-drawn characters in eighteenth century fiction. Sterne completed his story but a year before his death. One other work, TJie Sentimental Journey, is marked by the same peculiar qualities which distinguish Tristram Shandy ; an arti- ficial sentiment pervades them both. In 1766, when Laurence Sterne was just putting final touches upon Tristram Shandy, there stole quietly into the ranks of English fiction Vicarof ill ill i Wakefield, a genuine novel, a book more notable and more important, far, than that of Sterne in its influence upon modern fiction. This was Goldsmith's clever story TJie Vicar of Wakefield — our first real novel of domestic life. " There are an hundred faults in this thing," said Goldsmith, with naive shrewdness, in his preface ; " but," he added, " a book may be very amus- ing with numerous errors, or it may be very dull with- out a single absurdity." The novel proved his assertion. There is no lack of life interest in this panorama of an English home, with its little epic of struggle and triumph through the experiences of common life. The patient vicar, who endures his share of trouble with fortitude and faith, is an attractive figure to novel readers still. It is a family record, quietly humorous,, in its simple routine ; with its sensations and its crises also, but without brutality, without indecency, to mar the wholesome current of its course. In spite of tech- nical faults in the construction of the plot, this book 280 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS had a strong influence on subsequent works. In Ger- many it produced a great impression upon Goethe and his contemporaries. Its appearance really marks an epoch in English fiction, for it opened an entirely new- field to the novelist and supplied a model for what we now regard as the best expression of his art. For general reference in the historical study of the novel, Bituio- Masson's British Novelists and their Styles, Tuck- giaphy. erman's History of Prose Fiction, and Dunlop's History of Fiction are standard works. The English Novel, by Walter Raleigh (Scribners), A Study of Prose Fic- tion, by Bliss Perry (Houghton, Mifflin & Co.), and The De- velopment of the English Novel, by "Wilbur L. Cross (Macmil- lan), are the most helpful of recent books upon this subject. The English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare, by J. J. Jusserand (Putnam), is a most interesting discussion of the period indicated. The later development is covered in William Forsythe's Novels and Novelists of the Eighteenth Century. Simonds' Introduction to the Study of English Fiction (Heath) contains a brief historical review, and also illustrative selections from the story-tellers from the time of the Anglo-Saxons down to that of Sterne. The Art of Fiction, by W. D. Howells, The Novel : What It Is, by F. Marion Crawford, and The Experimental Novel, by Emile Zola, are interesting essays by the novelists them- selves. In biography, the student will find lives of Defoe, Fielding, Sterne, and Goldsmith in the English Men of Letters Series ; of Smollett and Goldsmith in the Great Writers Series. H. D. Traill's The New Fiction, and Other Essays contain*, an essay upon Samuel Richardson, and also one on The Novel of Manners. There is a critical study of Richardson in Leslie Stephen's Hours in a Library. In the September, 1893, number of the Century Magazine there is an article by Mrs. Oliphant upon The Author of Robinson Crusoe; and in Scribner's Magazine for the same date a paper by Austin Dobson on Richardson at Home. Sir Walter Scott's SAMUEL JOHNSON 281 Lives of the Novelists includes sketches of Richardson, Field- ing, Smollett, and Sterne. Thackeray's English Humour- ists gives a vivacious picture of these men and of their age. Saintsbury's Introduction to the Works of Henry Fielding and the chapter on Fielding in G. B. Smith's Poets and Novelists should be read. There is a life of Smollett by David Hannay, and one of Sterne by H. D. Traill. IV. ESSAYISTS OF THE SECOND HALF. Among English men of letters in the second half of the eighteenth century, the dominant figure Samuel is that of Samuel Johnson, booksellers' hack, Johnson, parliamentary reporter, writer of the Rambler and the Idler essays, compiler of the great English Dictionary, author of Rasselas and the Lives of Eng- lish Poets ; observer, moralist, and critic ; ponderous, sententious, irascible, domineering, honest old Doctor Johnson, the dictator in literary art for his generation ; less read, perhaps, than any other great writer of that century, and yet better known to posterity than any other eighteenth century essayist. " The memory of other authors," says Macaulay, " is kept alive by their works. But the memory of Johnson keeps many of his works alive." Samuel Johnson was born at Lichfield, in Stafford- shire, where his father, Michael Johnson, was • lii-ii n i Earl y Uie - a stationer and a dealer in books, well reputed for his learning, but eccentric and unlucky in trade. Like Pope, Johnson was a frail, sickly child, afflicted with St. Vitus's dance and tainted with scrofula. He never attained good health ; his huge, overgrown frame rolled in his chair, he shuffled and stumbled in his gait, he was always troubled with nervous twitchings which distorted the muscles of his face, and was subject to fits of morbid melancholy which, as he declared, kept him mad half his life. The Lichfield bookseller was 282 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS hardly in a position to give his son a university career, but the boy learned Latin in the Lichfield school and browsed among- his father's books. A chance discovery of a copy of Plutarch 1 s Lives aroused a passion for classical learning; and, with some assistance, Johnson was sent to Oxford in 1729 and entered as a student in Pembroke College. At the time of his entrance he was distinguished for his familiarity with numerous Latin texts not commonly read ; and he soon attracted attention by the excellence of his Latin translations. Aside from his success in this field his stay at the Uni- versity made little impression. In spite of his ability he was naturally indolent and withal miserably poor. His father's death in 1731 compelled an immediate return to Lichfield, and at twenty-two, his education half completed, penniless, and diseased, he began the long and bitter struggle with circumstance, from which he emerged thirty years later the literary leader of his age. At first Johnson attempted to teach in a private school in Leicestershire, but failed on accouut of his peculiarities and physical infirmities. He then tried to make a living by translating for the publishers, and began his contributions to the magazines. At twenty- five he married a Mrs. Porter, widow of a silk mer- chant ; the lady was twenty years his senior, but this singular experiment appears to have been the result of genuine mutual attachment, and was productive only of happiness to both. Light hundred pounds, which formed the marriage portion, was unwisely invested in starting a private school at their home near Lichfield, which was attended by only three or four pupils, and closed abruptly. In 1737 Johnson made a fresh start, and this time, fixing his hopes upon a literary career, he tramped the dusty road to London. Mrs. Johnson re- THE LIFE OF THE POOR WRITER 283 mained behind, but her husband did not journey alone ; for by his side there trudged young Davy Garrick, a pupil in the school just closed, a lad of parts, whose youthful brain was filled with dreams of fame and for- tune to be won in the great city. A curious couple they must have made : the hulking, awkward frame of the master towering above the graceful, dapper youth at his side. The friendship of this strangely assorted pair is one of the pleasant features of that later period, when fame indeed had come to both, and each was master in his special field. The miseries of the hack-writer at this period have been most vividly pictured by Macaulay. TheL1Jeol " Even the poorest pitied him ; and they the Poor well might pity him. For if their condition was equally abject, their aspirings were not equally high, nor their sense of insult equally acute. To lodge in a garret up four pairs of stairs, to dine in a cellar among footmen out of place, to translate ten hours a day for the wages of a ditcher, to be hunted by bailiffs from one haunt of beggary and pestilence to another, from Grub Street to St. George's Fields, and from St. George's Fields to the alleys behind St. Martin's Church, to sleep on a bulk in June and amidst the ashes of a glass house in December, to die in an hos- pital and to be buried in a parish vault, was the fate of more than one writer, who, if he had lived thirty years earlier, would have been admitted to the sittings of the Kitcat or the Scriblerus Club, would have sat in Par- liament, and would have been intrusted with embassies to the High Allies." 1 The cares and privations of this life, if not its ex- tremes of wretchedness, Johnson knew by experience, through a period of perhaps twenty years. It is only 1 Essay on Samuel Johnson. 284 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS just that we recall these painful circumstances as we smile over the grotesque figure, the savage temper, the voracious appetite, and the slovenly dress, which appear in the portrait of the Doctor Johnson whom Boswell knew and described. In 1738 appeared Johnson's poem London, a satire Early in imitation of Juvenal, which drew consider- Labors. a k} e attention to its author. It aroused the friendly interest of Pope, who endeavored, without suc- cess, to secure for the satirist some more substantial recognition than mere words of praise. Johnson now became a regular contributor to the Gentleman' & Maga- zine, then published by Cave, furnishing articles on all sorts of topics, receiving but scanty pay. From November, 1740, to February, 1743, he wrote the par- liamentary reports which were published regularly in that magazine under the heading Doings of the Sen- ate of Lilliput. The manner and the character of the work were such as to make this a remarkable achieve- ment. No reporters were then permitted in the houses of Parliament, but persons employed by the publisher attended the sessions, noted the subjects under discus- sion, the names of the speakers, and points in the ar- guments advanced. These facts were then brought to Johnson, who, out of such scant material, composed the speeches that were supposed to have been actually delivered, and gave them the form which they assumed in the published debates. When the fictitious elo- quence of these reports led to their acceptance by the public as genuine, Johnson, who was sturdily honest in all his dealings, refused to prepare them longer ; but the fact remains that he is the author, so far as the composition is concerned, of the entire series of impor- tant parliamentary efforts ascribed to distinguished statesmen during those two years. With humorous THE RAMBLER AND THE IDLER 285 frankness he declared, when complimented for the im- partiality with which he had contrived to deal out reason and eloquence to both parties, that while he had saved appearances tolerably well, he had taken good care that the Whig dogs should not have the best of it. 1 In spite of the hardness of the road, the privations and wretchedness of his life, in spite of disap- pointment and depression, Johnson was ad- Werand vancing slowly, but steadily, in his career. His prolific pen was kept busily employed on common- place shop work by the publishers ; he was not without a few influential and sympathetic friends ; but his tasks were drudgery, and he lacked altogether the assistance that had helped Addison and Swift to a speedy success. In 1747 he published proposals for a dictionary of the English language, and his name was sufficiently well known to warrant the venture in which he next en- gaged. In March, 1750, he published the first number of the Rambler, a little serial modeled somewhat on the style of the Tatler and the Spectator ; but John- son's manner was too heavy ; the agreeable humor and lightness of touch which had made the earlier periodi- cals so attractive were wholly lacking, and although didactic essays, such as Johnson produced, were looked upon with greater favor then than now, the Rambler enjoyed no great vogue. For two years, however, the little paper continued to appear twice a week, and all but two or three numbers came from Johnson's own hand. Six years later he again started a periodical of somewhat lighter character ; this was the Idler, which was published weekly, and ran for one hundred and three numbers. Its circulation was not large, and with the appearance of the final sheet, the long list of essay 1 See Croker's Boswell for the entire account. 286 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS serials, begun by Richard Steele fifty years before, came to an end. The great Dictionary was completed and published The Die- in 1755. It represented an enormous amount tionary. f labor • a grammar and a history of the lan- guage were included in the plan, and for seven years Johnson had been employed upon the task, directing the work of assistants and copyists, who were paid out of the proceeds from the work. In spite of its errors and the queer conceits of its author's personality, this Dictionary was a great achievement. No such com- prehensive work had ever before been attempted. Johnson's fame was now secured, and he is said to have derived great satisfaction when subsequently introduced as " the great lexicographer," a term especially pleas- ing to his classical ear. Some of Johnson's odd defini- tions have long served to amuse the world. Network he defined as " anything reticulated or decussated at equal distances, with interstices between the intersec- tions." Pension is " an allowance made to any one without an equivalent. In England it is generally understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country." Oats he described as " a grain which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people." These eccen- tric lapses of his genius were due in some degree to the embarrassments of his struggle with poverty, as well as to the capricious indulgence of prejudice. It is significant of the frankness of his mind that, when asked by a lady why he had defined pastern as " the knee of a horse," he instantly replied, " Ignorance, madam, pure ignorance." Just before the publication of the completed work, its editor addressed to Lord Chesterfield the celebrated Letter, a masterpiece of strong invective, rejecting with ironical politeness JAMES BOSWELL 287 that nobleman's tartly proffer of assistance. It con- tains his famous characterization of the literary patron, a type familiar enough to the struggling authors of the eighteenth century. " Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help ? . . . I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received ; or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing that to a patron which Providence has enabled me to do for myself." Johnson's resources were still meagre ; and upon the death of his mother in 1759, 1 he was com- . Ka.SS6l3.S- pelled to rely upon his pen to provide money for the funeral expenses. In the evenings of a single week he composed the didactic romance of Rasselas, an Abyssinian Prince. The tone of this work reflects the general melancholy of his mind and suggests the futility of the search for happiness in the world. In 1762, through the persuasion of friends, the essayist accepted a pension, granted by the ministry of George III. This assured an annual income of X300, and thereafter he was free from want. Upon a memorable May afternoon in 1763, in the back parlor of a bookseller's shop in Covent James Garden, began the singular acquaintance of Boswe11 - Samuel Johnson and James Boswell. Vain, shallow, and garrulous, this young Scotchman, who pretended to be studying law, but who happened for the hour to be bent upon making the acquaintance of distinguished men, recounts the circumstances of his introduction. " I was much agitated," says Boswell ; " and recollecting his prejudice against the Scotch, of which I had beard much, 1 Johnson's wife had died in 1752, a loss from which he was long in recovering. 288 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS I said to Davies, ' Don't tell him where I come from.* ' From Scotland,' cried Davies roguishly. ' Mr. Johnson ' (said I), ' I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help it.' ' That, sir,' roared Johnson, ' I find is what a very great many of your countrymen cannot help.' This stroke stunned me a good deal ; and when we had set down I felt not a little embarrassed, and apprehensive of what might come next." Poor Boswell ; his idolatry exposed him to many similar shocks, but the blindness of his devotion, or his unsensitive skin, rendered him invulnerable to all at- tacks. He has become famous through his consuming admiration for this great man. Samuel Johnson was his idol, and his worship was complete. He haunted his master's lodgings, trotted after him in his perambu- lations down Fleet Street, sat with him at the taverns, submitted to his irascible humor, and placidly endured the explosions of his thunderous wit. For twenty years he kept a journal in which he faithfully recorded the acts and sayings of his hero, setting down in mi- nute detail all that fell under his observant eye or upon his inquisitive ear. The result was Boswell's Life of Johnson, a biography which surpasses every other ; an accurate, complete portraiture of its original, present- ing all the little weaknesses and trifling oddities, as well as the weighty wisdom, wholesome humor, and blunt common sense of his ponderous friend. Macaulay has summarized the features of Boswell's portrait : — " There is the gigantic body, the huge face seamed with the scars of disease, the brown coat, the black worsted stockings, the gray wig with the scorched foretop, the dirty hands, the nails bitten and pared to the quick. We see the eyes and mouth moving with convulsive twitches ; we see the heavy form rolling ; we hear it puffing ; and then comes LATER LIFE 289 the ' Why, sir ! ' and the ' What then, sir ? ' and the ' No, sir ! ' and the ' You don't see your way through the question, sir ! ' " Was ever hero so frankly portrayed elsewhere ? In 1764 was organized the famous Literary Club. Its membership included Sir Joshua Rey- nolds, the portrait painter ; David Garrick, who, since his arrival in London as Samuel Johnson's comrade of the road, had made himself the foremost actor of his generation ; Goldsmith, Johnson, Burke, and a score of others almost equally distinguished for literary attainment in that day. They met regularly at the Turk's Head Tavern, ate and drank together, and made many an evening mellow with their mirth. It was as brilliant a group of men as that which com- posed the Scriblerus Club in the time of Pope and Swift, or the coterie that loitered at Will's Coffee- House with Addison and Steele. In this congenial company the great lexicographer divested himself of his formal phrases, his sonorous sentences, and his pon- derous words. Here he spoke naturally, and his spon- taneity was flavored with the very essence of sound sense and lively wit. It was as the recognized leader of the Club, and chief critical authority among its members, that Johnson is best known to-day. Boswell, who, happily, by Dr. Johnson's autocratic influence, had gained admission to the group, is our chief source of information on all points connected with its history. In 1765 Johnson edited Shakespeare ; and ten years later set about preparing an important series of biographies designed to accompany a great edition of the English poets, of which the final volume appeared in 1781. In these biographies, afterward collected under the title Lives of the Poets, Johnson's most important criticisms appear, and some of his best 290 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS prose. Meanwhile he traveled to some extent, visiting, in company with Boswell, the highlands of Scotland and the islands off the northern coast — publishing an account of his observations in A Journey to the Hebri- des. In 1774 he made a tour through Wales, and in the following year visited Paris, in company with his devoted friends, the Thrales. Johnson suffered a stroke of paralysis in 1788, and on December 13, 1784, he died in his Fleet-street house, amid the scenes with which his life had been most closely associated. His body found a resting- place of honor in Westminster Abbey. The personality of Samuel Johnson is wonderfully distinct; his very eccentricities have endeared his memory. It is the peculiarities that we first recall: how he kept stores of orange peel tucked away in table drawers ; how he insisted on touching every post which he passed on the street ; how he swallowed cup after cup of scalding tea in gulps, until his eyes protruded and the sweat stood on his forehead ; how he tore at his meat like a famished animal ; how he growled and snarled and puffed and grunted, contradicting, reviling, overwhelming with a storm of rhetoric all who differed from his judgments. But we must remember also the courage and the perseverance with which he struggled up the long, hard way to fame ; the piety and purity of his life ; the kind heart that led him to put pennies into the grimy fists of sleeping waifs at night, that they might have something to buy a morsel for breakfast ; the benevolence that turned his lodgings into an asy- lum, where he harbored a blind old woman, a negro servant, and two or three other queer dependents whose claims upon his charity we do not understand. He was respected and beloved by the distinguished people who were his friends. Burke wept at his bedside, and SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 291 parted from him with the words, " My dear sir, you have always been too good for me." And Fanny Burney, author of Evelina and other fashionable nov- els, stood outside his door, sobbing, when he died. As we have the term Addisonian to describe the easy, graceful vivacity of style characteristic of the suggestions Spectator's pleasant prose, so we use the terms for study. Johnsonian and Johnsonese to indicate the sententious and weighty diction of the Rambler and the Dictionary. " If you were to write a fable about little fishes," said Goldsmith to Johnson on one occasion, " you would make the little fishes talk like whales ! " When Johnson was making the tour of the Hebrides, he described the following incident in a well-known letter to Mrs. Thrale. "When we were taken upstairs, a dirty fellow bounced out of the bed on which one of us was to lie." But in the published account of the journey, it is recorded thus : " Out of one of the beds on which we were to repose, started up, at our entrance, a man black as a Cyclops from the forge." Once, speaking of a certain play, he remarked, " The Rehearsal has not wit enough to keep it sweet ; " then, after a pause, " It has not vitality enough to preserve it from putrefaction." This peculiarity of his diction, however, is characteristic of Johnson's earlier works. In Rasselas, and in the papers of the Rambler, we note the preponderance of long and sonorous Latin derivatives ; while in the Lives of the Poets^ Johnson's style is, if anything, more free from this fault than that of most writers of his day. The student will notice, nevertheless, that Johnson is always formal, and almost always in a philosophizing, moralizing mood, and that his tone is serious, his manner heavy, pompous. He should note the constant use of the balanced structure, and the frequent antithesis ; these characteristics he will find later especially marked in Macaulay's composition — a composition mod- eled in large degree upon that of Johnson. The student's reading shoidd include some of the essays contained in the Rambler and the Idler, the romance 292 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS Rasselas, and at least one of the Lives of the Poets. The handiest volume of miscellaneous selections is the Johnson in the Little Masterpieces, edited by Bliss Perry (Double- day, Page and Company), liasselas, edited by O. F. Emer- son, is found in the series of English Readings (Holt). There is no English author concerning whom more delight- ful books have been written, and none whose personality is more attractive to the reader who understands. Boswell's famous Life is the basis of our familiarity with its hero's character, and any of its pages will but stimulate the de- sire to read further. Croker's Bosivell is the edition which inspired the essays on Johnson by Macaulay and Carlyle ; while both these essays are of great interest, Macaulay 's is by far the more vivid : Carlyle gives us a philosophy of Johnson ; Macaulay paints a portrait. These two essays are published in a single volume with full notes, edited by W. Strunk (Holt). Mr. J. F. Waller, in Boswell and Johnson (CasselVs Popular Library), has written a delight- fully picturesque account of Johnson's intercourse with his famous friend ; and Thomas Seccomb's Age of Johnson (Bell) is successful in the same particular. Minto's Manual of English Prose Literature (Ginn) contains a technical analysis of Johnson's style, and J. Scott Clark's Sttidg of English Prose Writers contains valuable criticism and bibliography. All historians of this period in our literature have something worthy of note on Johnson. Among the struggling writers of Grub Street, famil- iar with the difficulties and the miseries Oliver . Goldsmith, through which Samuel Johnson pushed his 1728-74. sturdy way to the dictatorship of English let- ters in that generation, there is no more personally attractive figure than that of Oliver Goldsmith, es- sayist, dramatist, novelist, and poet. With light- hearted, irresponsible Dick Steele, he shares the ready affection of English readers, who are apt to look with kindly indulgence upon those victims of genius that OLIVER GOLDSMITH 295 seem peculiarly incapable of directing their own affairs and wholly indifferent to the consequences of their own erratic behavior. A free-hearted, impulsive Irish boy, born in the insignificant village of Pallas, County Longford, Oliver Goldsmith grew up, the son of a poor Irish curate. Through the larger part of his boyhood the family home was in Lissoy, whither his parents had removed when the child was two years old ; and here he became familiar with the characters and scenes which appear, idealized, in The Deserted Village and The Vicar of Wakefield. Like Pope and Johnson, Goldsmith was unfortunate in possessing noticeable physical defects. He was ugly and uncouth ; his face was disfigured with the marks of smallpox, and his frame was short and chunky. He was derided at school for his awkwardness and his stupidity, yet his boundless good-nature, his cheery hopefulness, and his easy indifference to the blows of fate, always won him sympathy and friends. After a troublous term of desultory study in various schools and with indifferent tutors, Goldsmith School entered Trinity College, Dublin, at seventeen Da y s - years of age. He wore the coarse black gown and red cap of the " sizar," did janitor service, and waited on table in the commons. Even thus he was wretchedly poor, and when, two years after entrance, his father died, the young student nearly starved in his attic room. To earn a little money he began writing street ballads, and used to steal out at night to hear them sung and to see if they would sell. It was character- istic of his benevolent nature even then that the hard- earned shillings were as often shared with the first beggar he met as spent for the clothes and food that he sorely needed. Goldsmith's career at the Univer- sity was as irregular as that of Swift, who had failed 294 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS in Trinity sixty years before. He took a conspicuous part in some college prank, quarreled with his tutor, and ran away, but was brought back by his brother, and, somehow, took the bachelor's degree in 1749. Weary of tutoring, which he attempted once or twice with poor success, Goldsmith made a half-hearted effort to enter the Church, and failed. The idea of emigrat- ing to America occurred to him ; his relatives equipped him with a good horse and thirty pounds in money and started him for Cork ; but he missed his ship, and with characteristic cheerfulness turned up at home minus the money and riding a horse greatly inferior to the one with which he set out. He then borrowed fifty pounds of his uncle, and set forth for London to study law ; but at Dublin he lost his money in a gambling-house and again appeared before his astonished relatives as hopeful and irresponsible as ever. With fresh assist- ance from his uncle, the Dublin graduate finally reached Edinburgh in 1752 and began the study of medicine. Here Goldsmith became exceedingly popular with his student comrades as a good story-teller and singer of Irish songs, but seems to have made little progress in the study of medicine. Within two years' time a sud- den impulse seized him ; he announced that he would complete his medical studies abroad ; and forthwith he set out on his famous pilgrimage through Europe. Ostensibly a student of medicine, Goldsmith jour- wander- neyed to Holland and remained for a brief ings. period in Leyden ; but the spirit of roving soon took possession of him, and the next two years were passed in picturesque wanderings through France, Swit- zerland, Germany, and Italy. He may have studied for a few months at the University of Padua ; but scarcely any details of his life during this period are known. More vagabond than student, he begged his way along GRUB STREET 295 the pleasant roads of southern Europe, exulting in the freedom of this careless life, depending on his flute and his songs to find a welcome to the homes and tables of the peasantry. In February, 1756, Goldsmith arrived in London with a rather dubious degree and desperately poor. After failing again as a tutor in some country boarding school, he became a chemist's assistant, and finally obtained a meagre practice as a physician in the Southwark district of London. The literary career of Oliver Goldsmith began early in 1757, when, after meeting Griffiths, editor o rU b of The Monthly Review, he was engaged at street - an " adequate " salary to supply copy for that maga- zine. The conditions of the hack-writer in that age have been described ; struggling with the difficulties and discouragements of his position, handicapped by his own improvidence and reckless habits of life, Gold- smith never emerged wholly from the dangers and mis- eries of his class. Yet his literary abilities soon won recognition, and his works are more highly esteemed than those of the great Doctor Johnson himself. In 1759 he published An Enquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe, which attracted gen- eral attention by the beauty of its style. He met Bishop Percy, compiler of the Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, and Tobias Smollett the novelist, then editor of The Critical Review ; to this periodical he became a contributor. He started a publication called The Bee, for which he furnished the essays which it contained, and wrote for The Busy Body, The Lady's Magazine, and other periodicals. In The Public Ledger appeared his Chinese Letters, after- ward published under the title of The Citizen of the World, containing the observations and comment of a fictitious Oriental visiting England. This work greatly 296 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS enlarged the reputation of its author, and in 1760 the essayist moved into better lodgings in Fleet Street, where he was honored with a call from Johnson, who soon became a valuable friend. He came to know Garrick, Burke, and the rest of that famous group, and was one of the nine original members who organ- ized the " Club " in 1764. In Boswell's gossipy account of its sessions, Goldsmith's blunders and drolleries, conscious and unconscious, are given almost as great prominence as the more ponderous sallies of the dic- tator himself. In 1764 appeared the first of Goldsmith's long poems, The Traveller. It was dedicated to Best his brother, to whom the poet was tenderly attached, and whose lovable personality is sketched in the opening verses of the poem. Touched here and there by the friendly hand of Johnson, The Traveller proved an immediate success and gave its author a high position among the writers of the time. Two years later came the publication of Goldsmith's one novel, The Vicar of Wakefield, which had been discovered by Samuel Johnson, unfinished, in the poet's lodging, during one of Goldsmith's enforced retire- ments on account of debt, in 1762. His next produc- tion of note was a play, The Good Matured Man, in 1768 ; but this comedy did not prove a success upon the stage. In 1770 Goldsmith published his best- known poem, The Deserted Village; and three years later She Stoops to Conquer won an immediate fame upon the stage and a popularity which it has never lost. But Goldsmith's literary success brought him no substantial relief from the embarrassments by which he was always surrounded. However well paid for his writings, he spent double the amount of his income on SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 297 whatever seized his fancy. Extravagant in his dress and in his pleasures, he was also extravagant in his benevolence, and recklessly responded to the appeals of the worthy and unworthy alike. Hopelessly involved in debt, he grew despondent, became ill with a fever, and died April 4, 1774, at the early age of forty-five. He was buried in the Temple Church, and a monument in his honor was erected by the Club, in Westminster Abbey. The works of Oliver Goldsmith are full of a rich vivacity and charm that make them as readable to-day as suggestions they were when Doctor Johnson and the other tor Study, learned gentlemen of the Club set the seal of their distin- guished approval upon them. Goldsmith's great versatility is the most conspicuous quality of his genius. His prose style is admirable. " Where is now a man who can pen an essay with such ease and elegance as Goldsmith ? " de- manded Johnson. His ease, simplicity, and naturalness, his nice choice of words, his perfect command of epithet and phrase, give distinction to everything he wrote. " Gold- smith, both in verse and prose," says Hazlitt, " was one of the most delightful writers in the language." The general qualities of his style will be obvious to any student who thoughtfully reads his works. An excellent selection from his essays is supplied by the volume on Goldsmith in the Little Masterpieces, edited by Bliss Perry (Doubleday, Page and Company). Number 68 of the Riverside Literature Series (Houghton, Mifflin and Company) contains The Deserted Village, The Traveller, and some minor poems, edited with notes for students' use. These two poems should be carefully read as forming a literary landmark midway between the compositions of the classic period of English poetry and the development of the new movement which came with Burns and Wordsworth. While the metre is that of Pope and his school, the spirit of Goldsmith's poems is more closely akin to that of the 298 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS poetry which was soon to follow. Let the student compare The Deserted Village with Pope's Windsor Forest, taking, for example, lines 35-50 and 113-136 of Goldsmith's poem for comparison with lines 7-42 and 111-158 of Pope's. The superior naturalness and sincerity of the later poet will not he difficult to detect. Yet the details of local descrip- tion and of characterization in Goldsmith's poems must not be interpreted too literally. The poet has idealized his sub- jects throughout, and fancy has brightened the colors which transform the rude Irish hamlet of Lissoy into this charm- ing picture of " Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain." Goldsmith's portraitures may well be compared with those of Chaucer's immortal pilgrims, although the blunt realism of the first great English poet is remote enough from the elegant idealism of this later minstrel. Concerning The Vicar of Wakefield, more remains to be said elsewhere ; it must not be overlooked by the student of Goldsmith's works, for it is one of the classics of English fiction. 1 She Stoops to Conquer stands, with Sheridan's School for Scandal and The Rivals, one of the very best of acting comedies on the English stage. In every one of his works — and there are many not enumerated here — the warm heart and quick sympathy, the gracious humor, the sweet and wholesome charity for all of human kind, reveal in various expression the amiable spirit of this easy-going, generous man. While there is no marked originality in the compositions of Oliver Goldsmith, his style was his own, and the winning charm of his person- ality pervades his work. It was honest criticism as well as affectionate friendship that found expression in Johnson's stately Latin epitaph on the dead poet : — " Nullum fere scribendi genus non tetigit, Nullum quod tetigit non ornabit." 1 See page 279. An edition of this novel is published by Houghton, Mifflin and Company. HUME AND GIBBON 299 The Life of Goldsmith by J. Foster is the standard authority. Washington Irving and Sir Walter Scott each wrote his biography. In the English Men of Letters Series the Goldsmith is by William Black, and Austin Dobson is the author of the Life in the Great Writers Series. Macaulay's Essay, and the chapter which treats of Gold- smith in Thackeray's English Humourists, should not be overlooked. Contemporary with Johnson and Goldsmith, con- tributing with them to the wealth of eight- „ ,„ o b David eenth century prose, were many writers of Hume, important rank. David Hume, a Scotch ad- 7 " * vocate, born in Edinburgh in 1711, was the first to attempt a comprehensive, accurate history of England. By the publication of various essays upon philosophy and morals, Hume had already become known as a keen, hard-headed reasoner of the utilitarian school when, in 1752, he formed the design of writing the his- tory with which his name is associated. The first vol- ume of Hume's England appeared in 1754 ; the work was completed in 1761. The historian had aimed to produce an interesting book ; in this purpose he suc- ceeded. The History is famous for its elegance and smoothness of style. But Hume was a strong partisan of Tory interests, and his political prejudice is obvious, particularly in his defense of the Stuarts. Our chief interest in the work is due to the fact that here we find for the first time an intelligent study of politics and an attempt to give an account of the people and manners of an age. Gibbon, the greatest of English historians, was born at Putney. His career as a student, first at Westminster School and later at Oxford, Gibbon, was extremely unsatisfactory. In the course of much desultory reading, however, young Gibbon 300 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS absorbed with great interest the facts of oriental his- tory. " The dynasties of Assyria and Egypt were my top and cricket-ball," he says ; " and my sleep has been disturbed by the difficulty of reconciling the Septuagint with the Hebrew computation." Gibbon's love of historical study was further stimu- lated by subsequent study (during a residence in Lau- sanne, Switzerland) and by a trip to Italy in 1764. " It was at Rome," he writes, " on the 15th October, 1764, as I sat musing among the ruins of the Capitol, while the barefooted friars were singing vespers in the Temple of Ju- piter, that the idea of writing the decline and fall of the city first started to my mind." But it was not until 1776 that he published, at Lon- don, the first volume of his stately work. Volumes II. and III. appeared in 1781 ; and six years afterward, at Lausanne, the three later volumes were completed. Gibbon's History of the Decline and Fall of the The Decline Roman Empire covers the period beginning and Fail. with the reign of Trajan, 98 a. d., and ending with the fall of Constantinople in 145$. The skepti- cism of its author regarding the authorities upon Chris- tian history occasions an attitude objectionable in the minds of many readers ; but it should not be forgotten that this same skeptical attitude toward the evidence of ancient authority is the very quality which sustains the historical accuracy of Gibbon — " the one historian of the eighteenth century," as Freeman declares, " whom modern research has neither set aside nor threat- ened to set aside." The prose style of the Decline and Fall is most eloquent. History, in Gibbon's concep- tion, is a great panorama of momentous events ; and this succession of impressive scenes he presents in pic- EDMUND BURKE 301 tures glowing with color. His style is that of the ora- tor ; his diction, like that of Johnson, is largely Latin — weighty, sonorous. 1 Richard Brinsley Sheridan, author of two of the best comedies on the English stage, was born in Richard Dublin. In The Rivals (1775) he created JSSSL, the great comic characters, Bob Acres, Sir 1751-18I6. Lucius O'Trigger, and Mrs. Malaprop. He acquired possession of Drury Lane Theatre in 1776, and the next year produced The School for Scandal, his best play. A third comedy, The Critic, was written in 1779. Sheridan became a member of parliament in 1780, and achieved a brilliant reputation as an orator. He afterward met with reverses and died in poverty. By far the man of largest mould at the close of the century was Edmund Burke, the essayist and parliamentarian, greatest of English political Burke, writers, the one whom Dr. Johnson termed the first man in the House of Commons because he was the first man everywhere. Burke was an Irish- man and was born in Dublin. He was educated at Trinity, but failed to carry off any special honors. In 1750 he became a law student in London, but appeared to be fonder of travel and literature than of the law. He published his first essays in 1756 : the first, A Vin- dication of Natural Society, a satirical reply to Bo- lingbroke's attack on established religion ; the second, A Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful. This last essay was at least indicative of the young law clerk's interest for aesthetics. Edmund Burke had the soul of a poet ; his imaginative power, expressing itself in bursts of pro- found feeling, is the essential element in his oratory which brought him fame. 1 The interesting Memoirs of Gibbon are edited by O. F. Emerson in the Athenceum Press Series (Ginn). 302 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS In 1765 Burke became secretary to the prime min- _ ,. ister, and the next year entered the House Parlia- ' • t> • mentary of Commons for Wendover in Buckingham- shire. In Parliament Burke's career was distinguished by his vigorous championship of the American colonies. His Speech on Conciliation with America (1775) is a familiar classic in all American schools. Burke next became interested in matters re- lating to abuses of power by government officials in India, and finally conducted the celebrated but unsuc- cessful case for impeachment against Warren Hastings — the case which supplied Macaulay with the theme of one of his most picturesque essays. In his Reflec- tions on the French Revolution (1790) and the Let- ter on a Regicide Peace (1796), Burke was again upon the unpopular side, bitterly, almost brutally, de- nouncing the principles of the Revolutionists. His attitude caused a rupture with his party and the break- ing of old associations with his friends among the Whigs. It was proposed that Burke be raised to the peerage as Earl of Beaconsfiekl, but these plans were frustrated by his death. In the field of state politics Burke was a philosopher. As a Man He had a clear view of every subject upon of Letters, which he moved. His grasp of minute de- tails was extraordinary ; the range of his knowledge, marvelous. In the expression of ideas the statesman turned poet. Figures of rhetoric became a part of the machinery by which he impressed — not merely adorned — his argument. The prose of no English writer is richer in those rhetorical beauties which are commonly regarded as ornaments of style. Metaphor follows metaphor, in long passages of eloquent periods, until, sometimes, the idea of the image almost buries the idea of the speech ; but such extravagance is not common, THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT 303 and the figures are used with discretion as well as with ease. It is, therefore, as one of the masters of our English tougue, as well as a great political writer and a leader of English thought, that we must recognize Edmund Burke. He was the last of the great prose writers in this remarkable age of prose. 1 V. THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT IN ENGLISH POETRY. In the latter half of the eighteenth century there appeared among certain of the English poets a well- defined movement away from the conventional models of verse as established in the compositions of Dry den and Pope. It has been found difficult, however, to formulate a description of this movement which shall adequately distinguish the new school. Within the term romantic — now used to designate this movement — these three elements are clearly included : (1) A subjective treatment ; that is, such a handling of the theme as shall reveal the spiritual attitude of the au- thor, his reflections, his moral sentiment, his passion. (2) A choice of picturesque material. This is the quality which we associate most frequently with the term to-day. At the time of which we speak, the taste of the age was especially drawn to medieval subjects, for the history and traditions of the Middle Ages are rich in such themes. Sometimes the poets turned to oriental sources. In its extreme phase, romanticism reveled in ghostly subjects and appealed to the uni- versal interest in mystery and horror. (3) A spirit of reaction was a natural characteristic ; for such a spirit is the logical accompaniment of an important movement in any field of literature at any age. The term romantic is even used in this last sense alone, 1 Consult the volume of Selections from Edmund Burke, edited by Bliss Perry, in the English Readings (Holt). 304 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS indicating merely the passing from one style of compo- sition to another, which, because of its novelty, is then termed romantic — the word classical being used to describe the old, accepted model. But all the elements here enumerated are implied in the romantic movement now under discussion. 1 James Thomson, an account of whose work has been Beginners S iven (P' 26 ^), was tne first P 0et ° f P romi - inthe nence to sound the new note. The Seasons (1730) clearly indicates the tendency of the reaction. In the thin volume of Oriental Eclogues, published by William Collins (1721-59) in 1742, the tendency is manifested slightly, and among that writer's famous Odes — although that On the Passions is too reminiscent of Dryden and Pope to be significant in this connection — there are several, such as the Ode to Simplicity, the one To Evening, and that On the Death of Thomson, which are clear in their relation to this movement. In 1743 there appeared a remarkable poem in blank verse entitled The Grave, the work of a young Scotch writer, Robert Blair (1699-1746). This composition is vastly superior to scores of contemplative " church- yard " poems which were at that time appearing ; it was characterized by a freedom of treatment significant of the revolt from Pope. Its vigorous diction and pregnant phrases are immediately suggestive of the Elizabethan age. The spirit of the poem is essentially romantic. But most notable of all those whose influence, con- sciously or unconsciously, was thrown in the Gray, new direction, was the poet Thomas Gray. The Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard, 1 Compare English Romanticism in tin Eighteenth Century, by H. A. Beers (Holt), and the briefer English liomantic Movement, by W. L. Phelps (Ginn). GRAY'S ELEGY 305 published in 1751, is the climax of the meditative, or " melancholy," verse of the first half of the eighteenth century. In itself the Elegy is not wholly a romantic poem, but its tone is not discordant to the new school. Gray's mind belonged to that reflective, serious type portrayed in Milton's II Penseroso ; the pensive, mel- ancholy spirit dominated his life as well as his verse, and nature developed in him the romantic character. As a schoolboy at Eton he appeared studious and shy ; at Cambridge his melancholy grew habitual. His ex- periences with life confirmed Gray in this soberness of spirit. In 1742 he wrote the graceful but dispirited Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, with its familiar close : — " Where ignorance is bliss 'T is folly to be wise." At about this time he began the composition of the Elegy. For five or six years he lived the life Gray's of a scholar, almost that of a recluse, at Cam- Ele E7- bridge, devoting himself to the classics. His home was nominally at Stoke Poges, a beautiful village near Windsor, where his mother and sister were living ; and here, in 1750, he finished the poem upon which rests his fame. It was printed in 1751 to forestall an unauthorized publication. The Elegy is apparently the best-known poem in the language. For perfection of form and finish it is unsurpassed. A wonderful unity of feeling pervades the poem, of which the key- note is struck in the opening line, — " The curfew tolls the knell of parting day." Upon the mind of an appreciative reader the poeti- cal effect of this composition becomes more and more impressive as his acquaintance with literature broadens and his familiarity with the Elegy grows. 306 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS The poet's life was devoted rather to self-culture than The Ro- to production. Although he held a lecture- maiiticist. gj^p - 1U t ] ie University, he never lectured. The volume of his poetry is surprisingly thin. The Pro- gress of Poesy and Tlie Bard, representing his most important work, appeared in 1757. This last poem was essentially romantic. The story of TJie Bard is based upon an ancient Welsh tradition of Edward I.'s conquest of that country. As Edward's army is wind- ing thi'ough a deep valley, the march is suddenly inter- rupted by the appearance of a venerable figure seated on the summit of an inaccessible rock. The aged bard denounces the king for all the misery which he has brought upon the land, including the cruel death of all the bards who had fallen into Edward's hands, and prophesies that poetic genius shall never be wanting in the island to celebrate virtue and valor or to defy op- pression. The bard then leaps from the height and is swallowed in the river at its foot. It will be recognized at once that here is genuine romantic material ; indeed this poem is an important landmark in the course of the new movement. Gray's later poems were similar in spirit. The Fatal Sisters and The Descent of Odin are drawn from Norse legend ; The Death of Hoel is Welsh in its source. Although the poems of Gray were abundantly ad- mired, the taste of his age was against him. Influence ° . ° ofciassi- The influence of Pope's authority, enforced by the criticism of Johnson, still stamped it- self upon the verse that had the vogue and won current fame. Even Goldsmith, whose ideas seem to have been somewhat like those of the new school, was too inti- mately connected with Johnson to depart from the old methods. He declared against the use of blank verse, and clothed his really romantic idealizations in the classic garb of the couplet. THE RELIQUES AND THE FORGERIES 307 Yet the development of romanticism was not to be checked. A Highland schoolmaster, James The Rs- Macpherson (1736-96), published in 1760 nques some Fragments of Ancient Poetry . . . ^ ndthe Translated from the Gaelic or Erse Lan- guage. In 1762 he published Fingal, an Ancient Epic Poem in Six Books, as his translation of the work of Ossian, the ancient bard of his race. More Ossianic fragments appeared in the following year, and a sensa- tional debate arose over the genuineness of these so- called translations. The interest in this romantic revival was further evidenced and wonderfully stimu- lated by the publication in 1765 of Bishop Percy's famous collections of Scotch and English ballads, known under the title of The Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, and five years later the field of ro- manticism was enlarged by the appearance of Percy's Northern Antiquities, a translation from the French of Mallet's History of Denmark, which first revealed to Gray the rich treasure of Norse mythology. The popular success of Macpherson's Fragments appears to have suggested the publication of several specimens of ancient English verse, by Thomas Chat- terton (1752-70). These remarkable poems, attributed to Thomas Rowley, a monk of the fifteenth century, were clearly proved to be forgeries ; and this " marvel- ous boy," as Wordsworth calls him, filled with chagrin and overcome by the disappointments and hardships of his young career, ended his life by suicide, at the age of seventeen. The history of our literature records no other case so strange and pathetic as this. Very different in spirit from the productions just described, yet essentially an important factor in the romantic movement, was the work of William Cowper. Like Gray, a shy, sensitive youth, the poet seems to 308 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS have been foredoomed to dejection and morbid melan- _„„ clioly. In Westminster School he was one William •> , Cowper, of a coterie who cultivated the muse of 1m- 1731-1800. , • j • i . promptu verse in games and exercises; but he suffered much from the rough-and-ready life of the public school, and years afterward expressed his dis- trust of the system : — " The rude will scuffle through with ease enough, Great schools suit best the sturdy and the rough." 1 Cowper's timidity clung to him through life ; one less fitted to grapple with its practical experiences it would be hard to find. Friends secured for the poet an appointment as Clerk of the Journals in the House of Lords ; but the ordeal of qualifying, and the thought that he would be obliged to read the records in public, were too much for his mistrustful spirit, and in despair he attempted suicide. For eighteen months he was under treatment in a madhouse, and fits of deep de- pression were his frequent portion afterward. While under strong Calvinistic influences during his residence at Olney in Buckinghamshire, Cowper composed a large number of hymns contained in the Olney Collec- tion. Among the most familiar are the following: God moves in a mysteinous way, Oh! for a closer walk with God, and There is a fountain filled with blood. It is a singular fact that to this super-sensitive and . ,. „,. , morbidly serious poet we owe one of the live- John Gilpin. . J L liest and most entertaining of humorous poems, The Diverting History of John Gityin. One evening in 1782, as we are told, when Cowper was in one of his melancholy moods, the story of Gilpin's ride was related to the poet by his vivacious friend, Lady Austen. Peals of laughter were heard issuing from 1 Tirocinium ; or, a Review of Schools. THE TASK 309 the poet's bedroom during the night, and the next morning the poem was read to the company at break- fast. To Lady Austen's suggestion also was due the com- position of Cowper's most elaborate poem, The Task. The significance of its title is explained by the fact that when the poet begged for some " task " to relieve the gloom of his low spirits, that lively lady suggested " The Sofa " as a subject for his verse. In 1785 this long poem in blank verse was completed, and fully established its author's fame. Its characteristics were those of the new school. Cowper's Task is removed as far as possible from the conven- tionalities of the classicists. Naturalness is its charm. After having sung the evolution of the sofa in pleasant mock-heroic strain, the poet lets his fancy roam forth among those rural sights and sounds which " Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature." By an easy contrast his theme suggests the surpass- ing attractiveness of nature in her native haunts, and the spirit of his thought is expressed at the end of the First Book in the familiar line, — " God made the country, and man made the town." Scattered through the six books of Cowper's Task are many passages of bright description and many features which directly suggest the manner of Wordsworth, the great leader of the natural school at the beginning of the next century. Cowper's last days were days of gloom. A poem written On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture (the poet's mother had died when Cowper was a boy of six) is one of the tenderest and most impressive of his com- positions. Another, The Castaway, dated one year 310 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS before his death, is a striking expression of the hope- less misery of his condition : — " No voice divine the storm allay'd, No light propitious shone ; When, snatch'd from all effectual aid, We perish'd, each alone: But I heneath a rougher sea, And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he." The tendency in English verse was now emphatically Robert toward naturalness of expression, the study Bums, of life itself, and a frank sympathy with all J 759-96 . m • human interests. The Revolutionary Period had dawned, and while France furnished the field of immediate struggle between the forces of that intensely dramatic epoch, the ideas and principles of the time were fermenting everywhere in Europe. In England the voices of the poets responded now and then to the new impulse. This spirit spoke in the poetry of Robert Burns. The national poet of Scotland, nearest of all poets to the heart of the English-speaking world, was the son of an intelligent, high-minded Ayrshire farmer who, with his own hands, had built the clay cabin in which the poet was born. The peasant's son had little to expect in the way of school privileges ; but his father believed in the advantages of education and provided what he could. The poet got a brief school training and absorbed the literature of his land. The real inspiration of his genius, perhaps, came from the pic- turesque personality of old Betty Davidson, a member of the household, whose memory was a storehouse of ballad and legend. To her tales, and to the songs of the housewives, Burns gave a ready ear. The tunes of the folk songs rang in his head — homely melodies crooned by mothers to their infants by cottage door or fireside. He whistled them as he followed the plough, THE AYRSHIRE PLOUGHMAN 311 until his own songs came, fairly singing themselves into form, innocent of elaborate art, but in perfect tune with nature and throbbing with the passion of his soul. Never a poet sang with greater spontaneity than Robert Burns ; never one looked more keenly or more sanely into the world of living things about him. " The simple Bard, rough at the rustic plough ; Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough." 1 When Burns's father died in 1784, the poet, with his brothers and sisters, tried with ill success The Ayr . to carry on the farm. Then Robert, together shire with one of the brothers, controlled a small estate, poorly equipped, at Mossgiel ; and here he wrote some of his best-known verse. The Cotter's Saturday Night is a picture in detail of a typical godly Scotch home — just such an one as that in which his own childhood had been passed. Straight from the soil came the wholesome flavor in the lines To a Mouse and those To a Mountain Daisy. In 1786 the failure to make profit from the farm, the bitterness of the struggle which provided but the barest living, and the results of certain follies due to his own impulsive, pas- sionate nature, afflicted Burns so acutely that he lost heart and planned to go to Jamaica. To supply means for such an undertaking, his friends suggested collect- ing and printing the poems already composed. The suggestion was accepted, and in that same year ap- peared at Kilmarnock the first edition of Burns's poems. Its reception was hearty and enthusiastic. An invitation came urging a visit to Edinburgh, whither the poet went to receive the honors of a literary lion and to publish a later and slightly enlarged edition of his works. The numberless songs of his later years were not collected in any subsequent volume during 1 The Brigs of Ayr. 312 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS the poet's life, but appeared in current publications, or circulated, like the old folk ballads themselves, from tongue to tongue. The Scotch ploughman's " pith o' sense and pride o' worth" were invincible to flattery. When the applause grew faint, Burns turned again to the plough, married Jean Armour, and settled upon a farm at Ellisland in Dumfrieshire. Here again agriculture proved unprofit- able and was not continued beyond a year. The influ- ence of friends had secured for the poet an appoint- ment as gauger and exciseman over a district of ten parishes, the duties of this office keeping him much upon the road. It was an unfortunate kindness ; for the easy, convivial temper of Burns exposed him to all the harmful influences found in the associations of his office. He was a lusty " flesh and blood " man, pos- sessed by masterful passions. The weakness of self- indulgence was his ruin. Disappointment over his failures, and ill-health — the fruit of his own excesses — clouded his spirits more and more. He died at thirty-seven. The line in A BartV s Epitaph he had written of himself : — " But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stained his name." There is no necessity to gloss over the errors of The out of Burns. The poet paid a heavy penalty for Robert his mistakes ; and in spite of his weaknesses the world's attitude toward genial " Bobbie " Burns is that of an indulgent and affectionate compas- sion. His wonderful gift of song remains unrivaled in our later literature, and that inheritance preserves for us the best of Robert Burns. Into his verse the poet flung himself: his patriotism, his blithe humor, the wit of the philosopher, the laugh of the boy. His love songs arc tender with emotion, or blaze with the heat SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 313 of his passion. In every line he is natural, spontane- ous, carelessly indiscreet. The frank expression of his feeling is necessary, inevitable. In his love of nature he pictures exactly what he sees and hears ; he is real- istic to the last degree. He is impressed by the things that are alive ; his interest is in birds and beasts and flowers — above all in men. He sympathizes with the revolt against oppression, and the literature of the Revolution produced nothing finer than the ringing appeal of his noble lines : — " Then let us pray that come it may (As come it will for a' that) That Sense and Worth o'er a' the earth Shall bear the gree an' a' that ! For a' that an' a' that, It 's comin' yet for a' that, That man to man the world o'er Shall brithers be for a' that." 1 In the study of Burns the selections provided in Number 77 of the Riverside Literature Series are excel- g ug cr e s- lent. A glossary of Scotch words accompanies this tions for text. The two poems, The Cotter's Saturday u y " Night and Tarn 0' Shanter, should be carefully read. It will be easy to recognize in the first resemblances to Gray's Elegy and Goldsmith's The Deserted Village. Point out some of these correspondences, and also try to see the ori- ginality of Burns's own expression and feeling. What is the stanza form of this poem ? Why does the poet vary in his dialect between Scotch and English — with what effect ? Indicate some of the expressions winch illustrate Iris realism and his naturalness of tone ; again point out passages in which imagery and phrasing are more conventional. What is the moral of the poem ? Of all Burns's poems there is none more characteristic in its hearty, rollicking humor than Tam 0' Shanter. At the same time, in the midst of its boisterous gayety there are passages of high poetical power, 1 Is Therefor Honest Poverty. 314 FROM ADDISON TO BURNS over which a careless reader may slip half-consciously, swept on by the torrent of furious mirth. Read closely lines 53-78, and study the comparisons and phrasings. Point out personifications and metaphors. Consider the effect se- cured in lines 73-78 by using the words rattling, blast, speedy gleams, swallowed, and the entire verse Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed. Commit the entire passage to memory. What seem to be the characteristic qualities of the poems To a Mouse and To a Mountain Daisy ? Point out the elements that impress you most and tell why they impress you. Give considerable attention to Burns's songs, especially to Is There for Honest Poverty, John Anderson, Duncan Gray, Flow Gently, Sweet Afton, Highland Mary, To Mary in Heaven, I Love My Jean, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast, A Bed, Bed Bose, Bonnie Doon, and Scots Wha Hae wi' Wallace Bled. It is easy to feel the lyric quality in these poems ; but try also to appreciate the light- ness of the touch and the perfect naturalness of the expres- sion. Read the Address to the Unco' Guid, and weigh the senti- ment as well as its application in the poet's own experience. Carlyle's Essay on Burns, and appropriate sections of Heroes and Hero Worship, should be read. J. C. Shairp's Aspects of Poetry and On Poetic Interpretation of Nature (Houghton, Mifflin and Company) may be consulted. The biography of Burns in the English Men of Letters Series is also by Shairp. That in the Great Writers Series is by Blackie. Burns's Poems are published complete in the Riverside Classics and (edited by W. E. Henley) in the Cambridge Edition. ENGLISH 315 - ■*^> co- - co a H-i -a • p-H cd a fe Si ® "a m r-W K. , .Cj^cO £^ 5J> H< — £22 a>^ a^ %) &^ - | i - 0Q - g : co ~ t-. rtTf O o r -1 H S N — w :2 :f§ s^co^ a c o o ■~ cd s a t:?a ** PQ fc| ^ CN B° : : : j : • • t- ^j © • ' CM tj CO : 4 : &% 1-1 1 :o O o 0) O SXCD O 1-H CHAPTER VI THE NINETEENTH CENTURY FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON I. The New Poetry : Wordsworth, Coleridge. II. The Romantic Movement in English Fiction: Scott, III. The Revolutionary Poets: Byron, Shelley. IV. Romanticism in English Prose : Lamb, De Quincey. V. The Great Essayists : Macaulay, Carljrle, Ruskin. VI. Maturity of the English Novel : Dickens, Thackeray 5 George Eliot. VII. The Victorian Poets: Browning, Tennyson. I. THE NEW POETRY: WORDSWORTH, COLERIDGE. As the new century began its course, the roman- tic tendencies, which had developed with increasing strength in the verse of Thomson, Gray, Cowper, and Burns, reached their culmination in the new poetry of William * ne m °d e rn school. Wordsworth and Cole- Words- ridge, intimately associated by a friendship 1770-1850. significantly influential upon both, are closely Samuel associated also in their relation to the roman- Taylor m Coleridge, tic movement. It is interesting and also important to note that while contributing equally to the impetus and largeness of that movement, their contributions represent two distinct and even con- trasted phases of romantic literature. Simplicity and naturalness found extreme expression in the poetry of Wordsworth ; the mystical and weird attracted Cole- ridge. The imagination of the latter wandered among the fantastic creations of a dream world, mysterious, INFLUENCES OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 317 splendid; Wordsworth, on the other hand, was pro- foundly responsive to the romantic element in the world of common life. Among English poets he is nature's great interpreter, contemplative, calm, yet prophet-like in the voicing of his message to men. William Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth, in Cumberland, one of the northern English _ . t» t woras- shires. Here lies the heart of the English worth's Lake Country, proverbial for the beauty and Youth - impressiveness of its scenery. Its hills and lakes were around him in his youth ; the Derwent, " fairest of all rivers," flowed near the homestead, blending its mur- murs with his nurse's song. Wordsworth's school days were spent at Hawkeshead, where he learned to appre- ciate the homely comforts and simple manners of the cottagers with whom he dwelt, and where he came in closest touch with nature in her wildest and loveliest forms. He roamed the woods alone, climbed the crags, in summer and winter indulged his athletic tastes in all the outdoor sports suited to the season. Even in child- hood the poet spirit of the boy was fascinated, awed, by the solitude of forest and mountain, hearing a Voice and feeling a Presence in the mysterious environment of nature's secluded haunts. 1 The years 1787-91 were passed by Wordsworth at the University of Cambridge. The period was influences marked by little of significance in the poet's ^^ h life other than his eager response to the im- Revolution, mediate inspiration of the hour. With whole-souled enthusiasm he welcomed the promptings and appeals of the Revolution. Cowper and Burns among English poets had voiced the sentiments of liberty, equality, and universal brotherhood. Southey and Coleridge were 1 Read the account of the poet's childhood and school times in The Prelude, Book i. 318 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON prompt to express their sympathy with the cause, and among all the younger men there was none more ardent in his championship than Wordsworth. When a few years later he came to describe, in The Prelude, the sensations and emotions of that time, he wrote : — " Bliss was it in that Dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven." When his university course was finished, the young graduate spent some few months in London, looking on at the multiform life of the capital; but France lured him forth, and in 1792 Wordsworth went to Paris. He viewed the rubbish ruin of the Bastile, then left the disordered city to travel in quieter districts of France. In October of the same year, following the September massacres, cheered by the proclamation of the Republic, he returned to " the fierce metropolis " and ranged the city with new ardor. But the horror of recent events was too great, and the poet was hardly able to throw off the spell. He was inclined to make common cause with the Girondists, but friends at home prevailed upon him to return. Depressed by the fail- ures of the Revolution, melancholy over its crimes, the young enthusiast came again to England, disheartened and doubting. For a time he lost faith and hope; then by the affectionate leading of his only sister, Dorothy Wordsworth, and by Nature's self, the poet was jruided into " those sweet counsels between head and heart, Whence grew that genuine knowledge, fraught with peace." 1 Wordsworth and his sister made a home in the south Back to Na- of England, in Dorset and Somersetshire, ture - until 1798. The quiet of the country, long rambles across the downs, and the charm of rural life 1 Read the account of the poet's residence in France, and its influ- ence, in The Prelude, Book x. COLERIDGE 319 combined to create an atmosphere in which the poet's serener self gradually awoke to the consciousness of its peculiar gift. In 1793 Wordsworth published a slight volume of Descriptive /Sketches. In 1797 Coleridge came to visit him at Racedown ; and the acquaintance which had been previously formed ripened into friend- ship, intimate and life-long. Samuel Taylor Coleridge was born in Ottery, St. Mary's, in Devonshire. Precocious and im- „ , „ J .' . Coleridge. aginative, he passed the years of childhood without experiencing the thoughts or exhibiting the actions of a child. At Christ's Hospital, a charity school, where he found a classmate and comrade in young Charles Lamb, Coleridge won distinction as a scholar. He was deeply interested in metaphysics, was given also to day-dreams and to poetry. In 1791 he entered the University of Cambridge, and soon became well known for his radical views. With the extreme ideas of the revolutionary movement he appeared to be in hearty sympathy. A Utopian scheme to establish an ideal com- munity somewhere on the banks of the Susquehanna enlisted the active cooperation of both Coleridge and Southey, but this dream of a new Pantisocracy, as they called it, did not materialize. Coleridge now turned seriously to writing and lecturing as his vocation. In 1795 he married and settled at Clevedon in Somerset- shire. He next appeared as the editor of a radical publication called The Watchman, which came to an end with the tenth number ; he was often heard dis- coursing upon political and economic questions in the pulpits of Unitarian chapels. In 1797 he moved to Nether Stowey, and was living there when the intimacy with Wordsworth began. In spite of some essential differences in theory and method, these two poets were attracted to each other by 320 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON a very definite agreement in sympathies and ideals. The Lyrical They determined to combine their forces ; and Ballads. as a resu Jt of their plans there appeared in 1798 the volume of Lyrical Ballads. No more sig- nificant collection of poems was ever published. In accordance with the plan adopted, poems were in- cluded illustrating the theory of each writer. It was Wordsworth's purpose to show how interest may be aroused by imaginative treatment of the commonplace, while Coleridge sought to make the supernatural im- pressively real through the truthfulness of the emotions awakened. Most significant of Wordsworth's contri- butions were the simple narrative poems, such as Mar- garet (afterward incorporated in The Excursion), Expostulation and Reply, The Tables Turned, Simon Lee, The Old Cumberland Beggar, The Idiot Boy, and Peter Bell. These compositions aptly illustrated the poet's insistent principle of simplicity in form and diction — some of them extravagantly. One or two of the poems rose measurably above the rest ; the unmis- takable note of a great genius was struck in the splen- did Lines, Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey. Coleridge was represented in the volume by that unique masterpiece of weirdness and melody, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. In spite of their sig- nificance the new poems were received with ridicule, if not with contempt. A scattered few rose to the appre- ciation and enjoyment of the work. Coleridge and the Wordsworths now went abroad — Coleridge to become absorbed in German meta- physics, Wordsworth and his sister to pass a quiet, almost lonely winter in the little town of Goslar. Here the poet composed new ballads, including Lucy Gray, Ruth, and Nutting ; he also wrote some of the pas- sages which appeared later in The Prelude. WORDSWORTH'S POEMS 321 In the spring of 1799 the Wordsworths arrived again in England ; and as a result of a pedestrian At Gras . tour in Cumberland, taken together with mere - Coleridge, who also had just returned from Germany, they once more settled in the beautiful Lake region, their early home. The poet and his sister rented a cottage at Grasmere. In 1800 Coleridge removed his household to Keswick, and three years later was joined by the poet Southey. This neighborly association gave rise to the term the Lake poets, a title which, beyond indicating a certain sympathy in taste and purpose, has little technical significance. At Grasmere, where Wordsworth lived until remov- ing to Kydal Mount in 1813, the poet produced his most impressive verse. A second edition of the Lyrical Ballads in 1800 contained a prose preface in which Wordsworth set forth his theory of verse, maintaining that the language of poetry should be that of real life. While the critics continued to ridicule the new poetry and its author's peculiar views, the younger generation of readers was beginning to enjoy the truthfulness and pathos of rustic character and the realistic natural- ness of country life and scene as presented in the ballads. In 1802 the poet married an old schoolmate, his cousin, Mary Hutchinson, — " A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food ; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles." * Besides the Sonnets — some of which rank among our best compositions in this field of verse — subsequent the important poems of Wordsworth's ma- Poems, turity are The Ode to Duty (1805), the great Ode on 1 She was a Phantom of Delight (1804). 322 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON the Intimations, of Immortality (180(3), The White Doe ofllylstonc (published in 1815), Laodamia (1814), and The Excursion (1814). This last composition forms only a part in a larger design, which embraced a long philosophical poem to be called The liecluse. In this poem the poet purposed to express his views on man, nature, and society. As an introduction to the work, he first wrote The Prelude (completed in 1805), an interesting autobiography with particular reference to his mental experiences and philosophical growth. The Excursion constitutes the second section of this work, in which various characters are introduced, furnishing a medium through which the poet's views find an ex- pression. Of the main poem, The liecluse, intended to express the sensations and opinions of a poet living in retirement, only the first book was completed ; and it was not until 1888 that this fragment was published. "When The Excursion appeared, it was little read ; only 500 copies were sold in the next six years. Then, little by little, appreciation grew. In 1815 the poet published his collected works, classifying them as Poems of the Imagination, Poems of the Fancy, Poems of Reflection, etc. Sympathetic readers increased. In 1843, upon the death of Southey, then poet-laureate, Wordsworth was honored with the appointment in his place. In quiet retirement he lived out the days of a serene and uneventful life. He traveled somewhat, lived much in the open air, and composed industriously. The ardent poet of the Revolution had long since settled down into staid and safe conservatism. He died at the age of eighty, and was buried in his be- loved vale of Grasmere. The actual production of Coleridge's genius was disappointingly small. In the winter of 1797 the poet THE LATER WORK OF COLERIDGE 323 wrote the first part of Christabel and the wonderfully melodious fragment of Kubla Khan, statins; & l -i -i V • Tie Later that a poem two or three hundred lines in work of length had been composed by him during ° eri ge " sleep, that the fifty-four lines of the fragment were written immediately upon awaking, and that the in- terruption of a visit had effectually banished the remainder from his memory. This uncompleted poem, together with Christabel and The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, affords a remarkable example of tone effect, the subtle influence of which was understood by Cole- ridge as, perhaps, by no other English poet. Strongly impressed by the genius of Schiller, Coleridge pub- lished, in 1800, a masterly translation of the drama Wallenstein. The second part of Christabel was written in that same year, and in 1802 he composed the Ode to Dejection, almost the last of his important poetical works. From 1803 to 1816 Coleridge was almost a wan- derer — without a recognized home, absent from his family, dependent upon friends, miserable over his failures, rarely accomplishing an occasional success. His great intellect was handicapped with a weak will, and his infirmity was aggravated by the fact that he had become an unhappy victim to the use of opium. Many important undertakings were planned, to be left half completed or wholly unattempted. The Friend, a literary, moral, and political journal, which ran through twenty-seven numbers (1809-10), the lec- tures on Shakespeare and the poets, the Biographia Literaria (1817), in which he analyzed the poetical theories of Wordsworth and published passages from his inimitable Table Talk, constitute, with the poems already named, the most important of his contributions to permanent literature. In 1816 Coleridge found an 324 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON asylum in the hospitable home of a Mr. Gillman. He lived the life of a speculative student, devoted to the study and interpretation of the German philosopher Immanuel Kant. He died peacefully in 1834. Wordsworth stands by himself among the poets. „, While it is common to associate the names Words- worth's of Wordsworth and Burns, the resemblance English between the two is one of spirit, not of ex- Poetry. pression. In many essential points they are wholly unlike. Wordsworth gracefully and adequately describes his obligation to Burns — " Whose light I hailed when first it shone, And showed my youth How Verse may build a princely throne On humble truth." 1 Upon this foundation of " humble truth " the poetry of William Wordsworth was consistently and ever based. The intimate relations between Nature and Man he in- terpreted as no other poet ever tried to do. Instinc- tively and without effort, he fell into that blessed mood in which, " With an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things." 2 " Every great poet is a teacher," he declared ; " I wish to be considered as a teacher, or as nothing." "To console the afflicted, to add sunshine to daylight by making the happy happier, to teach the young and gracious of every age to see, to think, and feel, and therefore to become more actively and sincerely virtu- ous," 3 — this he affirmed to be the purpose of his art, and his hope for his verse. 1 At the Grave of Burns (1803). 2 Tintern Abbey. 8 Letter to Lady Beaumont. See also the sonnet To B. R- Haydon, M High is our calling, Friend.' 1 WORDSWORTH'S PLACE 325 Hence it comes that Wordsworth is always sub- jective ; his poetry is the poetry of meditation and counsel ; his studies of nature and of human character are inspired with the idea of inculcating lessons of sym- pathy and love and faith. After that first turbulence of youthful ardor had given place to the calmer mood, the poet's spiritual life grew simple and serene. He deplored the fact that " Plain living and high thinking are no more ;" but this suggestive phrase truthfully describes the life he led. Simplicity is the essential characteristic of Words- worth's verse, — a simplicity that insists his Choice upon spontaneous expression and precludes of Materlal - the artificial elaboration of an elaborate art. In his material as well as in his language he chose the common type. Like Chaucer and like Burns, he sang of the field daisy — " Nun demure of lowly port." The " little, humble Celandine " receives his praise. The tumultuous harmony of the nightingale is to him a song in mockery ; the stock-dove's homely tale con- tents him : he " Cooed and cooed ; And somewhat pensively he wooed ; He sang of love with quiet blending, Slow to begin, and never ending ; Of serious faith and inward glee ; That was the song — the song for me ! " * In humble homes and hearts Wordsworth discovered elements that command respect and call forth admi- ration ; hence almost all his narrative pieces illus- trate and interpret some phase of the quiet life. He was oftenest impressed by the pathetic annals of the 1 O Nightingale .' thou surely art. 32G FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON poor, and found a helpful lesson in the simplest tale. Michael, the Grasmere shepherd, " An old man, stout, of heart, and stiong of limb," bowed, but not crushed b}^ his burden, proves that there is a comfort in the strength of love. The ancient leech-gatherer on the weary moor, searching muddy pools for his slimy spoil, replies cheerily to the poet's queries : — " Once I could meet with them on every side ; But they have dwindled long by slow decay ; Yet still I persevere, and find them where I may. I could have laughed myself to scorn to find In that decrepit Man so firm a mind. ' God,' said I, ' be my help and stay secure ; I '11 think of the Leech-gatherer on the lonely moor.' " * The histories of Margaret and Ruth, the simple nar- ratives of Lucy Gray and Alice Fell, reflect the poet's ready sympathy in all the sorrows of the weak and young. As might be expected, Wordsworth took an intense interest in the unconscious wisdom of a child. The great significance of Wordsworth's work is found in his attitude to nature. He does not merely describe her forms, nor does he study her various processes. To him nature is alive with an informing spirit which ever instructs, chastens, and elevates the thoughtful mind. I fer kindlier phases im- press him wholly ; and thus the lessons that he brings arc those of assurance, calmness, inspiration, and hope. " The Being that is in the clouds and air, That is in the green leaves among the groves, Maintains a deep and reverential care For tli' unoffending creatures whom he loves." - It was natural that a soul so susceptible should feel the mystical power of nature's vital forces, — " the liv- 1 Resolution and Independence. 2 Hart-Leap Well. NATURE 327 ing Presence of the Earth." 1 Even in his youth he was conscious of this influence. 2 His poetry is full of allusions to the Vision and the Voice. A curious child listens to the murmurings of a smooth-lipped shell ; and the poet exclaims : — " Even such a shell the universe itself Is to the ear of Faith ; and there are times, I doubt not, when to you it doth impart Authentic tidings of invisible things." 3 In the enthusiasm of revolt against the conventional and artificial forms of the classic school, Wordsworth's early ballads are aggressive in their naive simplicity of style. There are many prosy passages of dubious verse in his later and longer compositions. And at the same time, allowing for his obvious limitations in breadth of expression and of view, we recognize a sane mind and a wealth of wonderful poetry in "Wordsworth's collected works. Among the many definitions at various times attempted for that elusive term poetry, there is one by Stedman which is as follows : — " Poetry is rhythmical, imaginative language, expressing the invention, taste, thought, passion, and insight of the human soul." 4 The suggestiveness of this definition is particularly helpful in estimating Wordsworth's place. For eleva- tion, serenity, and insight there are few compositions that surpass Tintern Abbey, Laodamia, the Ode to Duty, Tlie Intimations of Immortality, and The Ex- cursion. 1 The Recluse. 2 " Oh ye rocks and streams, And that still spirit shed from evening air ! Even in tlds joyous time I sometimes felt Your presence." — The Prelude, Book i. s The Excursion, Book iv. * The Century Magazine, April, 1894. A lecture delivered at Colum- bia University. 328 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON Poetical expression at the close of the eighteenth century had hecome a very different thing from what it tlons for was at the beginning. The first aim, therefore, in Study. |.j ie s t U( iy f Wordsworth's verse should be to re- cognize the direction and value of the progress that had been made. To understand this, examine a few of the early bal- lads, in which simplicity of thought and naturalness of expres- sion are strongly emphasized. Note the sort of subject which predominates, and think how far removed from Pope's con- ception of nature " methodised " is Wordsworth's " Simple Nature trained by careful Art." It is not necessary to impute a large intrinsic value to all the representative compositions of the early period, but the sincerity and spontaneity are worthy of appreciation. Per- haps the happiest illustration of Wordsworth's method suc- cessfully applied is found in that little classic of childhood, We are Seven. We are Seven. The first stanza, containing the real thought of this simple tale, was suggested by Coleridge. The significance of the poem is, of course, its absolutely harmonious treatment of an entirely simple, yet impressive theme, — the inability of a child to comprehend the meaning of death. The ballad measure lends itself naturally to its development. The simple language, the colloquialisms, are in keeping ; the stockings and the kerchief, even the little porringer, are not unnecessary adjuncts. But the poetical effectiveness — that which makes of the composition a true poem — is the artless pathos of the little maid's reply, so naturally and truthfully interpreted by a sympathetic mind. T intern Abbey. The first important example of Words- worth's real genius was the poem composed near Tintern Abbey, the remarkable Lines on Revisiting the Banks of the Wye. Study the composition with reference to its theme, the spiritual effect of personal communion with nature. First analyze the poem. The introduction (lines 1-22) describes the return of the poet to this favored spot. What is the general subject of the passage which follows (lines 23-49) ? SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 329 In the third section of the poem (lines 49-111) trace the develojmient recorded through what Dowden has termed the periods " of the blood, of the senses, of the imagination, of the soul." How is each described ? To whom does the poet address himself in the conclusion ? Does the composition gain as a whole through this personal address ? The poem should now be read with careful reference to technical and artistic details. The blank-verse form should be considered. How does it comport with the general seri- ousness and dignity of the theme ? In structure of verse, disposition of pause, variation of rhythm, points of effective technique may be noted. A comparison may be made with passages in Paradise Lost and The Task. What is the effect of a comparison with the heroic couplet used by Pope? Next examine the diction of this poem. It will be found that the simplicity of these Lines is more impressive than that oftenest found in the ballads. It is elemental and upon a different plane. The " language of prose " gives place to the language of poetry ; a powerful imagination, powerfully excited, supplies the tropes and comparisons here introduced. Analyze the picture of the quiet landscape described in the opening lines. What points in that description emphasize the quiet seclusion of the scene ? How is its tranquilizing influence projected in the following passage ? What is the significance of the allusion to " that best portion of a good man's life " (lines 30-35) ? Note each word used in the lines which follow and its individual aptness to the thought ; the compact suggestiveness of these lines is extraordinary. As opposed to the idea of quiet calm induced by the nat- ural influences of the scene, what phrases does the poet use to suggest the " fretful stir " of common life ? Examine closely the language of the poet in the description of his youthful passion for nature ; what is the appropriateness of such phrases as " aching joys," " dizzy raptures " ? Com- mit to memory the passage beginning " For I have learned " (lines 88-102). Weigh the thought. Consider the force of each word in these lines : — 1 330 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON " The still sa t] ie " I did wed Myself to things of light from infancy " he exclaims in Endymion, which begins with that familiar line, " A thing of beauty is a joy forever." His spirit is pagan in the expression of its ideal : — " Beauty is truth, truth beauty — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know." 1 In this worship of beauty in the abstract he and Shelley were at one ; and this is the single point of union between the two. The lavish luxuriance of Keats's earlier work had given place in the later poems to a more discreet and careful use of his resources ; he had attained a marvelous perfection of form. Had he lived he would have accomplished great things in Eng- lish poetry. But in the weakness and dejection of the last dark days, he was mistaken. His name was not writ in water. No English poet has a more tender hold upon the memory than John Keats. Scarcely any other has had so deep and continuous an influence upon the poetry of those coming after. 2 Two minor poets, Moore and Hunt, whose names are Thomas frequently mentioned in connection with By- Moore, ron anc l Shelley, were prominently identified Leigh Hunt, with the revolutionary group. Tom Moore, 1784-1859. ftenest remembered as the author of Irish Melodies (1807) and the oriental romance of Lalla Roohh (1817), was born in Dublin and educated at Trinity College. He became a law student in London, won the friendship of Byron, and was made the liter- 1 Ode on a Grecian Urn. - The volume of selected poems edited, with Introduction and Notes, by Arlo Bates (Ginn) is especially recommended. ROMANTICISM IN ENGLISH PROSE 369 ary executor of that poet. His Life of Byron was long the standard biography. What Burns did for Scotland, Moore tried to do for Ireland ; but his songs are less natural than those of the Scotch ploughman, and his other poetry, polished and sweet though it is, is artificial in the main. Leigh Hunt was born at Southgate, in Middlesex, and studied with Coleridge and Lamb at Christ's Hos- pital School. His career as a journalist began with the establishment in 1808 of a weekly paper, The Ex- aminer, in which he published some articles reflecting upon the Prince Regent that led to his imprisonment for libel. A poem upon the subject of Francesca da Rimini, written during his imprisonment, had consider- able influence upon both Shelley and Keats. His short poem Abou Ben Adhem is well known. His style was light and graceful ; but his prose sketches and criti- cisms are of greater value than his verse. IV. ROMANTICISM IN ENGLISH PROSE: LAMB, DE QUINCEY The influence of the romantic movement is strongly felt in the work of two prose writers contemporary with the poets just described. They were not novelists like Scott ; their compositions are properly classified as essays, although distinguished from the ordinary essay type by the nature of their subjects and the manner of treatment. The essays of Charles Lamb, while Addisonian in a sense, are more truly Elizabethan in spirit, and there is not lacking a certain suggestiveness in them of the manner of Keats. A similar resem- blance in spirit and method may be traced between the writings of De Quincey and the poetry of Coleridge. De Quincey and Lamb are both genuine romanticists. The imaginative element is conspicuous in the produc- tions of each. 370 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON Charles Lamb, the most delightful of English essay- M , ists, whose memory is honored not only for Charles ' J J Lamb, the delicate grace and flavor of his style, but 1775-1834. as we jj £ or y a sweet an( | l ovaD l e nature, was born in London, within the confines of the Temple - that historic structure of huge proportions and ram- bling extent, once the chapter house of the Knights Templar, but for generations appropriated to the use of barristers for offices and lodgings. John Lamb was a lawyer's clerk, in exceedingly poor circumstances. There were three children who survived childhood: Charles ; his sister Mary, ten years his senior ; and an elder brother, John, who grew up selfish and ease- loving, apparently without concern in the fortunes and trials of the family. Charles describes his father 1 as " a man of an incorrigible and losing honesty." Through the interest of a friend of John Lamb's employer, Charles was taken when six years childhood. old Qut o£ the dingy liule gchool in Fetter Lane, where he obtained the rudiments of learning, and given a scholarship in the famous " blue-coat " school of Christ's Hospital, where he remained seven years, and where the life-long friendship with Coleridge, his fellow pupil, was firmly established. Lamb's child- hood was darkened by the struggle with poverty, but his cheery, courageous temper was early in evidence. His imagination was particularly active ; he declares that from his fourth to his seventh year he never laid his head on his pillow " without an assurance, which realized its own prophecy, of seeing some frightful spectre." 2 He was a good Latin scholar, and amused himself by turning nursery rhymes into that language. 1 Under the name of " Lovel," in The Old Benchers of the Inner Temple. 2 Witches, and Other Night Fears. CHARLES AND MARY LAMB 371 In the study of Greek he did not proceed very far, reaching the rank of " deputy-Grecian," beyond which he could not pass, as the higher grade presupposed an entrance into the ministry ; and from this he was pre- vented by an unfortunate impediment in his speech which made him a stutterer all his life. In 1789 Charles Lamb left school — fourteen years old — and at that youthful age took up the An Office responsibilities of active life. His father's Clerk - health was failing, and the shadow of a terrible malady hung over the household. The boy found employment in the South-Sea House, the office of a great London trading company ; two years later he secured a clerk- ship with the East India Company, in whose employ he continued for thirty-three years. He found little lei- sure ; but when Coleridge occasionally ran down from Cambridge for a brief visit to London, it was the plea- sure of the two school comrades to meet at the " Salu- tation and Cat " to spend long evenings together in the discussion of literature and old times. Lamb's first literary efforts appeared in connection with his friend's. In 1796 Coleridge printed his first volume of poems, and there were included four sonnets signed " C. L." The winter of 1795-96 ushered in a year of tragic significance for the Lambs. Insanity was a The Tra family inheritance. John Lamb, the father, gedyoftne had gradually lost his faculties until now he had lapsed into the condition of a child. During the winter Charles himself succumbed to an attack of the disease and passed some weeks in confinement at a hospital for the insane. The mother was an invalid. The burden of the household necessarily fell upon Mary Lamb. In September, 1796, her own reason gave way, and in a fit of madness she took her mother's life. So long as the father lived Mary remained in confinement, 372 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON gradually recovering her reason under treatment. Such was the calamity which fell upon Charles and Mary Lamb, an affliction from the effects of which they were never entirely freed. Some knowledge of its details is necessary if we would appreciate the extraordinary fortitude and patient heroism which distinguished the lives of this gifted pair. By and by, upon assuming certain responsibilities, Brother Charles Lamb was permitted by the authori- and Sister. j.j eg £ care £ Qr ^ s j s ^ er j n hj s h ome . She continued subject to occasional temporary derangement all her life ; when threatening symptoms appeared she was placed in a retreat, returning after recovery to the home. A friend of the family relates how once he met Charles and Mary Lamb walking, hand in hand, across the fields to the old asylum, their faces bathed in tears. The attachment of this brother and sister was ideal ; none other ever crept in to interrupt it. As long as he lived Charles cared for his sister's comfort with an almost religious devotion ; and in her turn she devoted herself to him. Mary Lamb shared the talents of Charles. " Her education in youth was not much attended to. . . . She was tumbled early, by accident or design, into a spacious closet of good old English reading, without much selection or prohibition, and browsed at will upon that fair and whole- some pasturage." * Lamb's literary career began unostentatiously with The Liter- ^ ie publication, in 1797, of Poems by Charles aryLiie. Lamb and Charles Lloyd ; fifteen of these, described by a contemporary reviewer as " plaintive," were by Lamb. In 1798 he published a prose tale of 1 Mackery End, in Hertfordshire, in which Lamb describes his sister under the name of ' ' Bridget Elia." THE TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE 373 Rosamund Gray and Old Blind Margaret. His un- successful drama, John Woodvil, followed in 1799. Success was slow in coming. There were occasional contributions to the newspapers, six jokes a day to The Post, at sixpence ; but prospects were not very encour- aging. " It has been sad and heavy times with us lately," writes Mary Lamb in 1805. " When I am pretty well his low spirits throw me back again ; and when he begins to get a little cheerful, then I do the same kind office for him. You would laugh, or you would cry, perhaps both, to see us sit together, looking at each other with long and rueful faces, and saying ' How do you do ? ' and ' How do you do ? ' and then we fall a crying, and say we will be better on the morrow. He says we are like toothache and his friend gumboil, which though a kind of ease, is but an uneasy kind of ease, a com- fort of rather an uncomfortable sort." But the spirit of the home was by no means gloomy. Coleridge, with his brilliant conversation, was a fre- quent guest ; Wordsworth and Southey were familiar visitors : and within the small circle of his intimate friends the gay spirits of Charles Lamb easily broke through the shyness and the melancholy that sometimes oppressed him. The first real success came in 1807, with the publi- cation of Tales from Shakespeare. In this ... . The Talcs work, which still remains a much used classic, from the stories of the most important Shake- Siake - 1 , speare. spearian dramas are told with remarkable in- sight and charm of style. Mary Lamb had a part in the honors of this achievement, the comedies having been treated by her, while her brother worked upon the tragedies. A new interest was aroused in the literature of Elizabeth's time which had been long neglected, an interest which was further stimulated by 374 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON the publication in the following year of Specimens of English Dramatic Poets Contemporary with Shake- speare. These works gave Lamb an established repu- tation in literary criticism. Two subsequent essays, on The Tragedies of Shakespeare and on The Genius and Character of Hogarth, added to his fame. It was not, however, until the Essays of Elia 1 began to appear in the newly established London Magazine that the real genius of Lamb was revealed. In August, 1820, the essayist contributed his first The Essays paper to the Magazine, that upon The oiEiia. South- Sea House. One a month these papers continued to appear until the close of 1822, when the entire series was published under the title by which they are universally known. The subjects of these essays seem to have been chosen almost at haphazard : they range from Oxford in the Vacation to The Praise of Chimney- Svjeepers and A Dissertation upon Roast Pig ; from Christ's Hospital Five-and- Thirty Years Ago to A Bachelor s Complaint of the Behavior of Married People. There is much in these light-hearted, breezy observations upon the humors of life to remind one of Addison and Steele ; but they have a distinction and a flavor entirely of their own. Lamb was enamored of the old; he declared that when a new book ap- peared he read an old one. He confesses " hanging over, for the thousandth time, some passage in old Burton, or one of his strange contemporaries." 2 The Religio Medici, the works of the older dramatists, were a source of never-failing delight. He was saturated with the very diction of the Elizabethan writers, their conceits, their turns of phrase ; there is much to suggest 1 The name " Elia " really belonged to a fellow clerk, and was appro- priated as a joke by Lamb, who signed his contributions by that name, 2 Mackery End, in Hertfordshire. SUGGESTIONS 375 them in the English of " Elia." The Essays are filled with the gentle humor of their author's sunny spirit. There is no irony, no cynicism in Lamb's criticism of life. He was asked one day if he did not hate a certain person. "Hate him?" he retorted; "how could I hate him ? Don't I know him ? I never could hate any one I knew." He was a timid, sensitive, ner- vous, stammering little man, at ease only among the few who were his intimate associates ; yet he loved the crowded thoroughfares of the metropolis, and craved the presence and nearness of his fellows. He once wrote to Wordsworth that he often shed tears in the motley Strand, from fullness of joy at so much life. In 1825 Lamb was given a generous pension by his employers, and released from the servitude of the desk. But the last years were not happy ones. Mary's malady was growing worse; Charles's health was failing. The experiment of a rural resi- dence brought loneliness. Finally they settled in Ed- monton. The Last Essays of Elia were published in 1833. The following year Charles died. Mary Lamb lived until 1847, dying at the age of eighty-two. She was buried by her brother's side, in the churchyard of Edmonton. To suggest a " study " of Charles Lamb would almost spoil the pleasure which may be absorbed, intui- SnKgestlons tively, by a sympathetic reading of these delight- ful essays. It seems more appropriate to suggest merely what appears the more direct and natural route to the heart of Elia, by indicating certain essays to be read in order, leaving the student to use his own good sense and ready inclination for further self-direction. Take, then, first, those papers which deal with the localities associated with Elia's interests : The Old Benchers of the Inner Temple, 376 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON Christ's Hospital Five-and-Thirty Years Ago, Blakesmore in H shire, The South-Sea House, Mockery End in Hertfordshire. Some of the essays named contain delicate portraitures of character which introduce, under transparent disguises, the author's relatives and friends. In My Re- lations we have a sketch of the older brother John. Now turn at will among the remaining papers of either series ; discover for yourself specimens of Lamb's delicate humor, like the episode of the Quakers at Andover in Imperfect Sympathies, the wealth of jocular allusion in All Fools' Day, the quaint and sunny philosophy contained in Mrs. Battle's Opinions on Whist, the quizzical confessions of his own defects in The Old and the New Schoolmaster, and in A Chapter on Ears, with revelations of a more serious sentiment in Old China, Barbara S., and The Old Margate Hoy, or the pathetic confidences of Dream Children ; A Revery, and the frank, self-portraiture of The Superannu- ated Man. The antiquated phrasings, the choice discrimi- nation of terms, the rich vocabulary — these may all be noted without the exact and careful processes of formal study. Take the Essays of Elia and read the character of Charles Lamb. The Essays of Elia are published in the Camelot Briel Bibii- Series. The Tales from Shakespeare are included ography. [ n Numbers 64, 65, 66 of the Riverside Litera- ture Series (Houghton, Mifflin and Company) ; Number 79 contains nine of the most noted Essays. The Life, Letters, and Writings of Charles Lamb, edited by Percy Fitzgerald, is a standard work. The Poems, Plays, and Miscellaneous Essays are edited by A. Ainger (Macmillan). The best Life of Lamb is that by Ainger, in the English Men of Letters Series. There are interesting essays upon Lamb by G. E. Woodberry, in Makers of Literature, by Walter Pater, in Appreciations, by Augustine Birrell, in Obiter Dicta, and by De Quincey, in his Biographical Essays. Thomas De Quincey is one of the eccentric figures in English literature. Popularly he is known as the THOMAS DE QUINCEY 377 English Opium-Eater and as the subject of numer- ous anecdotes which emphasize the oddities Thomas of his temperament and the unconventional- De Quincey, ity of his habits. That this man of distin- guished genius was the victim — pitifully the victim — of opium is the lamentable fact ; that he was mor- bidly shy and shunned intercourse with all except a few intimate, congenial friends ; that he was comically indifferent to the fashion of his dress ; that he was the most unpractical and childlike of men ; that he was often betrayed, because of these peculiarities, into many ridiculous embarrassments, — of all this there can be no doubt ; but these idiosyncrasies are, after all, of minor importance — the accidents, not the essentials in the life and personality of this remarkable man. The points that should attract our notice, the qualities that really give distinction to De Quincey, are the broad sweep of his knowledge, almost unlimited in its scope ana singmariy accurate in its details, a facility of phrasing and a word supply that transformed the mere power of discriminating expression into a tine art, and a style that, while it lapsed occasionally from the standard of its own excellence, was generally self-cor- rective and frequently forsook the levels of common- place excellence for the highest reaches of impassioned prose. Nor is this all. His pages do not lack in humor — humor of the truest and most delicate type ; and if De Quincey is at times impelled beyond the bounds of taste, even these excursions demonstrate his power, at least, in handling the grotesque. His sympathies, how- ever, are always genuine, and often are profound. Thomas De Quincey was born in Manchester August 15, 1785. His father was a well-to-do mer- chant of literary taste ; but of him the chil- dren of the household scarcely knew : he was an invalid, 378 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON a prey to consumption, and during their childhood made his residence mostly in the milder climate of Lisbon or the West Indies. Thomas was seven years old when his father was brought home to die, and the lad, though sensitively impressed by the event, felt little of the significance of relationship between them. Mrs. De Quincey was a somewhat stately lady, rather strict in discipline and rigid in her views. De Quincey's child life was spent in the country ; first at a pretty rustic dwelling known as " The Farm," and after 1792 at a larger country house near Man- chester, built by his father, and given by his mother the pleasantly suggestive name of " Greenhay " — hay meaning hedge, or hedgerow. De Quincey was not a sturdy boy. Shy and dreamy, exquisitely sensitive to impressions of melancholy and mystery, he was endowed with an imagination abnormally active even for a child. It is customary to give prominence to De Quincey's pernicious habit of opium-eating, in attempting to explain the grotesque fancies and weird flights of his marvelous mind in later years ; yet it is only fair to emphasize the fact that the later achieve- ments of that strange creative faculty were clearly foreshadowed in youth. For example, the earliest in- cident in his life that he could afterward recall he describes as " a remarkable dream of terrific grandeur about a favorite nurse, which is interesting to myself for this reason — that it demonstrates my dreaming tendencies to have been consti- tutional, and not dependent upon laudanum." 1 Again he tells us how, when six years old, upon the death of a favorite sister three years older, he stole unobserved upstairs to the death chamber ; unlocking 1 Autobiographic Sketches, ch. i. SCHOOL DAYS 379 the door and entering silently, he stood for a moment gazing through the open window toward the bright sunlight of a cloudless day, then turned to behold the angel face upon the pillow. Awed in the presence of death, the meaning of which he began vaguely to un- derstand, he stood listening to a " solemn wind " that began to blow — "the saddest that ear ever heard." What followed should appear in De Quincey's own words : — " A vault seemed to open in the zenith of the far blue sky, a shaft which ran up forever. I, in spirit, rose as if on billows that also ran up the shaft forever ; and the billows seemed to pursue the throne of God ; but that also ran on before us and fled away continually. The flight and the pursuit seemed to go on forever and ever. Frost gathering frost, some sarsar x wind of death, seemed to repel me ; some mighty relation between God and death dimly struggled to evolve itself from the dreadful antagonism between them ; shadowy meanings even yet continued to exercise and tor- ment, in dreams, the deciphering oracle within me. I slept — for how long I cannot say : slowly I recovered my self- possession ; and when I woke, found myself standing as before, close to my sister's bed." In 1796 the home at Greenhay was broken up. Mrs. De Quincev removed to Bath, and Thomas m t , ^ J School Days. was placed in the grammar school of that town. Four years later he entered the grammar school at Manchester, his guardians expecting that a three years' course in this school would bring him a schol- arship at Oxford. However, the new environment proved wholly uncongenial, and the sensitive boy who, in spite of his shyness and his slender frame, possessed grit in abundance, and who was through life more or less a law to himself, made up his mind to run away 1 Derived from Sahara. 380 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON His flight was significant. Early on a July morning he slipped quietly oft* — in one pocket a copy of an English poet, a volume of Euripides in the other. His first move was toward Chester — the seventeen-year-old runaway deeming it proper that he should report at once to his mother, who was now living in that town. So he trudged overland forty miles and faced his astonished and indignant parent. At the suggestion of a kind-hearted uncle, just home from India, Thomas was let off easily ; indeed, he was given an allowance of a guinea a week, with permission to go on a tramp through North Wales, a proposition which he hailed with delight. The next three months were spent in a rather pleasant ramble, although the weekly allowance was scarcely sufficient to supply all the comforts de- sired. The trip ended strangely. Some sudden fancy seizing him, the boy broke off all connection with his friends and went to London. Unknown, unprovided for, he buried himself in the vast life of the metro- polis. He lived a precarious existence for several months, suffering from exposure, reduced to the verge of starvation, his whereabouts a mystery to his friends. The cloud of this experience hung darkly over his spirit, even in later manhood ; perceptions of a true world of strife were vivid ; impressions of these wretched months formed the material of his most sombre dreams. Rescued at last, providentially, De Quincey spent the next period of his life, covering the years 1803-7, in residence at Oxford. His career as a student at the University is obscure. He was a member of Worcester College, was known as a quiet, studious man, and lived an isolated if not a solitary life. In 1807 he disap- peared from Oxford, having taken the written tests for his degree, but failing to present himself for the necessary oral examination. THE OPIUM-EATER 381 The year of his departure from Oxford brought to De Quincey a long-coveted pleasure, — ac- quaintance with two famous contemporaries Friend- whom he greatly admired, Coleridge and s ps " Wordsworth. Characteristic of De Quincey in many ways was his gift, anonymously made, of £300 to his hero, Coleridge. This was in 1807, when De Quincey was twenty-two, and was master of his inheritance. The acquaintance ripened into intimacy, and in 1809 the young man, himself gifted with talents which were to make him equally famous with these, took up his resi- dence at Grasmere, in the Lake Country, occupying for many years the cottage which Wordsworth had given up on his removal to ampler quarters at Rydal Mount. Here he spent much of his time in the society of the men who were then grouped in distinguished neigh- borhood ; besides Wordsworth and Coleridge, the poet Southey was accessible, and a frequent visitor was John Wilson, later widely known as the " Christopher North " of Blackwood' 's Magazine. Nor was De Quincey idle ; his habits of study were confirmed ; indeed, he was already a philosopher at twenty-four. These were years of hard reading and industrious thought, wherein he accumulated much of that metaphysical wisdom which was afterward to win admiring recognition. In 1816 De Quincey married Margaret Simpson, a farmer's daughter living near. De Quincey's experience with opium had begun while he was a student at the University, in The0plum . 1804. It was first taken to obtain relief from Eat er. neuralgia, and his use of the drug did not at once be- come habitual. During the period of residence at Grasmere, however, De Quincey became confirmed in the habit, and so thoroughly was he its victim that for a season his intellectual powers were well-nigh para- 382 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON lyzed ; his mind sank under such a cloud of depression and gloom that his condition was pitiful in the extreme. Just before his marriage, in 1816, De Quincey, by a vigorous effort, partially regained his self-control and succeeded in materially reducing his daily allowance of the drug ; but in the following year he fell more deeply than ever under its baneful power, until in 1818-19 his consumption of opium was something almost incredible. Thus he became truly enough the great English Opiuni-Eater, whose Confessions were later to fill a unique place in English literature. It was finally the absolute need of bettering his financial condition that compelled De Quincey to shake off the shackles of his vice ; this he practically accomplished, although perhaps he was never entirely free from the habit. The event is coincident with the beginning of his career as a public writer. In 1820 he became a man of letters. As a professional writer it is to be noted that De Quincey was throughout a contributor to the peri- odicals. With one or two exceptions all his works found their way to the public through the pages of the magazines, and he was associated as contributor with most of those that were prominent in his time. From 1821 to 1825 we find him residing for the most part in London, and here his public career began. It was De Quincey's most distinctive work which first appeared. The London Magazine, in its issue for September, 1821, contained the first paper of the Confessions of an English Opium-Eater. The novelty of the sub- ject was sufficient to obtain for the new writer an in- terested hearing, and there was much discussion as to whether his apparent frankness was genuine or assumed. All united in applause of the masterly style which dis- tinguished the essay, also of the profundity and value THE MAGAZINE ARTICLES 383 of the interesting material it contained. A second part was included in the magazine for October. Other articles by the Opium-Eater followed, in which the wide scholarship of the author was abundantly shown, although the topics were of less general interest. In 1826 De Quincey became an occasional contribu- tor to Blackwood' 's Magazine, and this con- Tho nection drew him to Edinburgh, where he Magazine remained, either in the city itself or in its vicinity, for the rest of his life. The grotesquely hu- morous Essay on Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts appeared in Blackwood's in 1827. In 1832 he published a series of articles on Roman history, en- titled The Ccesars. It was in July, 1837, that the Revolt of the Tartars appeared ; in 1840 his critical paper upon The Essenes. Meanwhile De Quincey had begun contributions to Taitfs Magazine, another Edin- burgh publication, and it was in that periodical that the Sketches of Life and Manners from the Autobio- graphy of an English Opium-Eater began to appear in 1834, running on through several years. These sketches include the chapters on Wordsworth, Cole- ridge, Lamb, and Southey, as well as those Autobio- graphic Sketches which form such a charming and illuminating portion of his complete works. The family life was sadly broken in 1837 by the death of De Quincey's wife. He who was now left as guar- dian of the little household of six children was himself so helpless in all practical matters that it seemed as though he were in their childish care rather than protector of them. Scores of anecdotes are related of his odd and unpractical behavior. One of his curious habits had been the multiplication of lodgings ; as books and manuscripts accumulated about him, so that there re- mained room for no more, he would turn the key upon 384 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON his possessions and migrate elsewhere, to repeat the per- formance later on. It is known that as many as four separate rents were at one and the same time being paid by this eccentric man of genius, rather than allow the disturbance or contraction of his domain. The literary labors were continuous. In 1845 the beautiful Suspiria de Profundis (Sighs from the Depths) appeared in Blackwood's ; The English Mail Coach and The Vision of Sudden Death in 1849. Among other papers contributed to Taifs Magazine, the Joan of Arc appeared in 1847. During the last ten years of his life De Quincey was occupied chiefly in preparing for the publishers a complete edition of his works. Ticknor & Fields of Boston, the most dis- tinguished of our American publishing firms, had put forth, 1851-55, the first edition of De Quincey's col- lected writings, in twenty volumes. The first British edition was undertaken by Mr. James Hogg of Edin- burgh, in 1853, with the cooperation of the author, and under his direction; the final volume of this edition was not issued until the year following De Quincey's death. In the autumn of 1859 the frail physique of the now famous Opium-Eater grew gradually feeble, although suffering from no definite disease. It became evident that his life was drawing to its end. On December 8, his two daughters standing by his side, he fell into a doze. His mind had been wandering amid the scenes of his childhood, and his last utterance was the cry, " Sister, sister, sister ! " as if in recognition of one awaiting him, one who had been often in his dreams, the beloved Elizabeth, whose death had made so profound and last- ing an impression on his imagination as a child. ■ De Quincey is an author to he studied. Of the " one hundred and fifty magazine articles " which comprise his SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 385 works, there are many that will not claim the general inter- est ; yet his writings as a whole will he recognized Sugges . by students of rhetoric always, as containing excel- tions lor lences which place their author among the English u y " classics. Two leading characteristics should become obvi- ous to the student who reads the more important and more attractive of these essays : the great imaginative power of the author, and the very evident romanticism which pervades these works. A comparison between De Quincey and Lamb both in choice of themes and method of treatment will show many contrasts as well as some resemblances. In style they are wholly different : which of the two attracts you the more ? It will be intei'esting to read De Quincey's account of A Meet- ing with Lamb : what serious defects do you note in the composition of this article ? Particularly worthy of reading are the Autobiographic Sketches, The Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, The English Mail Coach, and The Vision of Sudden Death, Joan of Arc, the Suspiria de Profundis, and Miwder Con- sidered as One of the Fine Arts. An excellent volume of Selections from De Quincey has been edited, with an elabo- rate introduction and notes, by M. H. Turk, in The Athe- naeum Press Series (Ginn) ; this volume is recommended for the speeial study of the essayist. The authoritative edition of De Quincey's Works is that edited by David Masson and published in fourteen Brlei B1W1 _ volumes by Adam and Charles Black (Edinburgh), ography. For American students the Riverside Edition, in twelve vol- umes (Houghton, Mifflin and Company), will be found con- venient. The most satisfactory Life of De Quincey is the one by Masson in the English Men of Letters Series. Of a more anecdotal type are the Life of De Quincey by H. A. Page, whose real name is Alexander H. Japp (2 vols., New York, 1877), and De Quincey Memorials (New York, 1891), by the same author. Very interesting is the brief volume, Recollections of Thomas De Quincey, by John R. Findlay (Edinburgh, 1886), who also contributes the paper on De 386 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON Quincey to the Encyclopedia Britannica. De Quincey and his Friends, by James Hogg (London, 1895), is another volume of recollections, souvenirs, and anecdotes which help to make real their subject's personality. Besides the editor, other writers contribute to this volume : Richard Woodhouse, John R. Findlay, and John Hill Burton, who has given under the name " Papaverius " a picturesque description of the Opium-Eater. The student should always remember that De Quincey's own chapters in the Autobiographic Sketches, and the Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, which are among the most charming and important of his writings, are also the most authoritative and most valuable sources of our information concerning him. In reading about De Quincey do not fail to read De Quincey himself. The best criticism of the Opium-Eater's work is found in William Minto's Manual of English Prose Literature (Ginn and Company). A shorter essay is contained in Saintsbury's History of Nineteenth Century Literature. A very valuable list of all De Quincey's writings, in chrono- logical order, is given by Fred N. Scott, in his edition of De Quincey's essays on Style, Rhetoric, and iAinguage (Allyn & Bacon). Numerous magazine articles may be found by referring to Poole's Index. Among the prose writers of this generation were a wniiam group of men who won distinction as essay- Hazllt , t '„„« ists in the special field of literary criticism. 1778-1830. . *\ . J Francis Hazhtt introduced the romantic style into 1778-1850. this form of literature, infusing the spirit John f sentiment, even of passion, into the expres- 1785-1854. sion of his critical judgments. His estimates J ° h L°k- °^ men are c °l° re< l by his own personal enthu- nart, siasm for their work ; he writes brilliantly, 1794-18 . a j. j.j mes w it\y eloquence. Among his most important essays are those on English Poets (1818), the English Comic Writers (1819), Dramatic Litera- ture of the Age of Elizabeth (1821), and the Life of JEFFREY, LOCKHART, WILSON 387 Napoleon (1828-30). Francis Jeffrey, a distinguished Scotch advocate, was one of the chief originators of the Edinburgh Review, and remained one of its principal contributors for nearly forty years. With the auto- cratic and not infallible judgments of that famous quarterly, Jeffrey's literary career is closely identi- fied. His style was forcible rather than eloquent ; in ridicule and satire he was inimitable. Intellectually keen and eminently practical, he lacked the ability to understand the new poetry of Wordsworth and his fellows or to appreciate the genius of Byron or Keats. John G. Lockhart, the son-in-law of Walter Scott and author of the remarkable Life of Scott (1838), stands with Jeffrey among the robust reviewers in the first half of the century. In 1826 he became editor of the Quar- terly Review and took up his residence in London. Like Jeffrey he wielded a trenchant pen, expressing his critical opinions at times in a manner most exasper- ating to the victim. He wrote a, Life of Burns (1827) and a Life of Napoleon (1829). He shai-ed the pre- judices of the Scotch critics against the Lake poets, and described Tennyson's first volume as " drivel and more dismal drivel, and even more dismal drivel." John Wilson, better known by his pen-name of " Chris- topher North," was a pictui'esque genius of massive frame and athletic tastes, whose literary activities were connected with a third great review, Blackwood 's Magazine} He occupied the chair of Moral Philoso- phy in the University of Edinburgh ; but his career commenced when he began contributing to Black- wood's in 1825. His Nodes Ambrosiance, delight- ful reminiscences of his literary associates, is his best-known work. His style was more attractive than 1 Blackwood' 's was established in 1817, the Edinburgh Review in 1802, the Quarterly in 1809. 388 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON Jeffrey's, and his critical judgment moTe impartial and discreet. Filling a singular place in the literary life of this epoch stands the peculiar figure of Landor. savage Expelled from Rugby for insubordination, I775°i and disciplined at Oxford for his ungoverna- ble self-assertiveness, he went his way through life disturbing and disturbed. He was infected, like Byron, with the revolutionary fever ; and in 1808 he raised a band of volunteers to assist the Spaniards in their struggle with Napoleon. His entrance into liter- ature came with the publication of the wildly extrava- gant romantic poem, Gebir, in 1798, the year of the Lyrical Ballads. Of several dramas written during the next few years, Count Julian was the most notable, receiving high praise from De Quincey. The works by which Landor's name is best known, however, the Ima- ginary Conversations, were written for the most part between 1821 and 1835, during the author's residence in Italy, under classic rather than romantic influences. Unique in their conception, these Conversations pre- sent the portraitures in dialogue of well-known histori- cal characters — in the main faithf ully suggesting the traits for which they were noted in life. Diogenes dis- courses with Plato, Marcellus with Hannibal ; Henry VIII. visits Anne Boleyn in the Tower ; Queen Eliza- beth discusses with Cecil the claims of Spenser the poet. Epictetus and Seneca, Peter the Great, Louis XIV., Boccaccio and Petrarca, William Wallace, Bacon, Cromwell, Rousseau, and Epicurus — these are some of the diverse types of various races and times, whose portraits Landor thus delineates. A classic dig- nity and coldness characterize these essays, very differ- ent from the prodigal warmth and color of Gebir. In his old age Landor continued to produce. THE VICTORIAN AGE 389 "Do you think the grand old Pagan wrote that piece just now ? " asks Carlyle of a Conversation published when Landor was over eighty. " The sound of it is like the ring of Roman swords on the helmets of barbarians ! The unsubduable old Roman." 1 He was honored by many distinguished representa- tives of the new era ; John Forster, Dickens, and Browning were among his friends. V. THE GREAT ESSAYISTS: MACAULAY, CARLYLE, RUSKIN. The last great epoch in the history of English liter- ature began in the second quarter of the cen- The Vlc . tury just completed. In the popular life of torlan A B e > the nation, as well as in its literary life, the Victorian age was an era of wonderful development and achieve- ment. Materially, the progress of invention and ex- pansion has been marvelous. It was not until 1829 that the steam locomotive was placed in actual service upon an English railway ; it was in the late thirties that the first steamships crossed the Atlantic, and that the electric telegraph came into practical use. Scien- tific discovery has within this period opened a new world of human knowledge. The spirit of democracy has asserted itself in the political and social organi- zation of the state. In 1832 the English Reform Bill was passed, virtually making the people the governing power of the kingdom. The growth of popular edu- cation has been remarkable, and the literary activities of the age have kept pace with the material and intel- lectual progress of the people. The characteristics of Victorian literature are best seen in the work of such representative prose writers 1 See the excellent introduction, by Havelock Ellis, to Imaginary Conversations in the Camelot Series. 390 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON as Carlyle, Ruskin, Arnold, and Dickens, such poets as Tennyson, Browning, and Morris, preeminently teach- ers of their generation ; they reveal their nearness to the public life and thought of the age, their purpose to assist, to correct, and to guide that life in matters of practical concern and in the perception of beauty and truth. In reviewing the literary history of this period we shall consider in order, first, the work of the essayists ; second, that of the novelists ; and lastly, the work of the poets — in their respective groups. First among the great writers of the new era to Thomas attract public attention was Thomas Babing- Mftraulay * on Macaulay. Brilliantly successful as an 1800-59. historian and essayist, sensible, hard-headed, optimistic, full of faith in the institutions of his coun- try, and participating actively in the administration of her interests, Macaulay was throughout the second quarter of the century a conspicuous figure in the politi- cal life of England, as he was her foremost representa- tive in literature. Macaulay was born at Rothley Temple in Leicester- Parentage shire. His father, Zachary Macaulay, a man and Youth. f unusual force of character, was connected for many years with the Sierra Leone Company, had been placed in charge of the colony at Freetown on the African coast, and devoted his energies to the movement for abolishing the slave trade. His associ- ates were a band of philanthropists whose leader was Wilberforce. Mi*s. Macaulay was of Quaker parent- age, had been a pupil of the noted Hannah More, and maintained an intimate friendship with that interest- ing woman. Throughout his youth Macaulay lived in an atmosphere of serious purpose, surrounded by the influences of noble, unselfish lives. Both parents ex- MACAULAY 391 hibited rare judgment in the domestic training of their talented son. Macaulay's childhood was quiet and happy. He was an incessant reader from the time that he was three years old ; his favorite attitude was to lie stretched on the rug before the fire, with his book on the floor, and a piece of bread and butter in his hand. He was famous, while a boy, for his extraordinary memory and his ready absorption of books. He knew Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel by heart before he was eight years old, and was inspired by its vigorous spirit to the composition of several epics, including a few swing- ing cantos upon the theme of King Olaf of Norway. Through life he retained this ability to absorb, almost at a glance, the contents of a page ; and what he thus read he never forgot. He declared that if the Paradise Lost and the Pilgrim's Progress were destroyed, he would undertake to replace both from memory. Amusing stories are told of his numerous literary activities and of his unusual command of language while a mere child ; of his sitting perched on the table, while the housemaid cleaned the silver, expounding to her out of a volume as big as himself ; of his compendium of universal history, written at seven, of his hymns, his odes, and his ballads — really extraordinary productions for a lad of his years. 1 In his nineteenth year Macaulay entered Trinity College, Cambridge. He won special honors At cam- in the classics and in oratory, and received a bridge, fellowship in 1824. While a student he began writing for the reviews, and in 1824 made his first public ad- dress, in an abolitionist meeting. In 1825 appeared his first contribution to TJie Edinburgh Peview, his 1 For the fuller account of Macaulay's boyhood, read Trevelyan's Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay, ch. i. 392 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON famous essay on Milton. Like Byron, Macaulay found himself famous in a clay. Compliments poured in from every side — best of all the word of the formida- ble Jeffrey, editor of the Review : " The more I think, the less I can conceive where you picked up that style." It was not that a new literary method had been applied in the writing of reviews, but that a new master of English had appeared, whose style was as distinct from that of all other essayists as it was bril- liant and lofty. Macaulay was called to the bar in 1826 ; but he in Public never became prominent as a lawyer. His me- public service was rendered through litera- ture. He entered Parliament in 1830, and delivered his maiden speech on the bill removing the Jewish dis- abilities. When he spoke upon the Reform Bill in March, 1831, the speaker declared that he had never seen the house in such a state of excitement. Three years later Macaulay was made president of a new law commission for India and a member of the Supreme Council of Calcutta. In the execution of the duties connected with this appointment, he remained two and a half years in India, returning in 1838. The results of his work were the Indian Penal Code and the Code of Criminal Procedure. In 1859 and 1869 these codes passed into law. Amid the exactions of his work in India, Macaulay yet found time for a vast amount of substantial reading, including almost the complete body of Greek and Roman literature. He also prepared and wrote the essay on Bacon. In 1839 he was once more in Parliament, was made Secretary of War, and a member of the Privy Council. In party politics Macaulay was a Whig, a strong partisan, and visibly interested in all questions of public reform. As an orator he was a fluent and rapid speaker ; it was THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND 393 the matter of his speech, his vivid language, his vehe- ment directness of manner, rather than the graces of eloquent utterance, that gave him power with an audi- ence. His public addresses were carefully prepared essays ; but it is equally true that as an essayist he wrote in the style of the orator. Between the publication of the essay on Milton in 1825, and that on Bacon in 1837, Macaulay Llterary had found time to prepare no less than fifteen Labors, notable articles for the Edinhurgh Review, of which those upon Machiavelli, Dryden, Byron, and Johnson are, perhaps, most important. In 1840 appeared the essay on Clive; in 1841 that upon Warren Hastings — two of his most picturesque and eloquent productions. In these essays he made use of the rich material gath- ered during his residence in India. The Bays of Ancient Borne were published in 1842. Stirring and vivid portrayals of ancient Roman virtue, — the virtue that embodied the idea of courage and expressed itself in acts of patriotic devotion, — these Bays in the vigor- ous ballad measure form no insignificant contribution to English verse. They are in some degree typical of their author's spirit and character. The essays upon Frederick the Great, Madame D^Arhlay, Addison, and Pitt were written between 1842 and 1844. It is, however, the History of England which re- presents, in its greatest achievement, the The History genius of Macaulay. As early as 1841, of England. Macaulay had written to his friend Napier : — " I have at last begun my historical labors — I can hardly say with how much interest and delight. I really do not think there is in our literature so great a void as that which I am trying to supply. English history from 1688 to the French Revolution is, even to educated people, almost a terra incognita. . . . The materials for an amusing narra- 394 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON tive are immense. I shall not be satisfied unless I produce something which shall, for a few days, supersede the last fashionable novel on the tables of young ladies." In the intervals between other labors the historian worked for ten years, until in 1849 the first two volumes appeared. The success of Macaulay's Eng- land was unprecedented. The first edition was sold in ten days ; the second, as soon as printed. In America six different editions were issued, and the sales imme- diately after publication were estimated at 60,000 copies. 1 In 1855 volumes iii. and iv. were ready. The work was translated into all the civilized languages, and the success of the earlier volumes was redupli- cated. In the autumn of 1856 part iii. of the History was begun ; but Macaulay did not live to complete this task. He carried the narrative down to the year 1700, and this portion of the work was subsequently edited by his niece, Lady Trevelyan, as volume v. Macaulay's History is the most picturesque history of England ever written. Its author possessed in rare degree the " historical imagination," which en- abled him to see, and then vividly describe, the scenes and events of his narrative. His wonderful command of language, his powers of description and narration, enabled him to invest details with all the attractive- ness of romance. For the interpretation of history Macaulay was unsuited ; he believed heartily in the upward pi*ogress of society, but he made no profound study of historical movements as related to cause and effect. It was the panorama of history rather than its philosophy that he was qualified to present. Many distinguished honors were bestowed upon the historian, both at home and abroad. One of the most highly prized had been received in his election as Lord 1 See Trevelyan's Life, vol. ii. ch. 21. SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 395 Rector of Glasgow University, in 1849. In 1857 he was raised to the peerage by the queen, as- t Years suming the title Baron of Rothley. Failing health forbade his active participation in public affairs, but he kept busily employed at his History until the end. His death occurred as he sat in his library at Holly Lodge, Kensington. He was buried near Johnson and Addison, in the Poets' Corner of West- minster Abbey. The working period of Macaulay's life followed that of the revolutionary group ; although contemporary with De Quincey and Wordsworth, there was nothing of the romanticist in his temperament or his method. Not gifted with fancy or sentiment, he could not ap- preciate the beauty or the imaginative power of their work. He moved on the common level of life, was proud of the material advance of the nation, and sought to promote its material interests. He was em- phatically an optimist, and saw no lesson more impres- sive than that of progress in the record he had traced. The essays on Johnson, Goldsmith, Milton, and Addison, edited by W. P. Trent, are included in Numbers suggestions 102, 103, 104 of the Riverside Literature Series, *<* study, and may very well be selected for special study. Either the essay on Clive, or that on Warren Hastings, should be added to this group. The essay on History should also be read, to discover Macaulay's ideas upon historical writing. In the reading of these various essays appropriate compari- sons between Macaulay and the earlier essayists will suggest themselves. The student should investigate the occasion for the publication of these essays and the significance of the term revieiv. For the analysis of Macaulay's style, the section upon the essayist in Minto's English Prose Litera- ture (Ginn) is almost indispensable ; but even a superficial study will develop Macaulay's great facility in epigram, his frequent resort to antithesis, and his love for the balanced 396 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON structure in sentence construction. Numerous examples of these elements may easily be found. The rapid, vivacious movement of his composition cannot he overlooked. The Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay hy his nephew, G. O. Trevelyan, is the standard biography ; it is reviewed by Gladstone in the Quarterly Review (187G). Macaulay in the English Men of Letters Series xs by J. C Morrison. The section upon Macaulay in Minto's English Prose Writers is the best general discussion of his distinctive style as a writer. Unconventional, rugged, and stern, inspired with a robust idealism and a passionate zeal for Tliomis cariyie, righteousness, Thomas Carlyle appears among 1795-I88I. t ^ e essa yi s t s of the Victorian age like a later Langland, flinging himself forth in fierce epics of prose. He was, like Burns, born of plain Scotch peasant stock. His father, James Carlyle, a sturdy stone-mason in the homely little town of Ecclefechan, Dumfriesshire, was a man of pronounced individuality, strong-willed, speaking his mind bluntly and forcibly, and commanding the wholesome respect of his neigh- bors. " I have a sacred pride for my peasant father," wrote Thomas Carlyle just after his father's death, "and would not exchange him, even now, for any king known to me. Gold and the guinea stamp — the Man and the Clothes of the Man ! " His mother was a gentle, affectionate woman, whose only fault, in the words of her son, was " her being too mild and peaceful for the planet she lived in." Carlyle was intended by his parents for the Church ; so he, the eldest of nine sons, was taught the rudiments of Latin by the minister, and, after a brief course in the high school at Annan, was sent to the University at Edinburgh — not quite six- THOMAS CARLYLE 397 teen years old. He was a hard student, especially in the classics. For mathematics he showed special apti- tude, and afterward taught that science in the high schools of Annan and Kirkcaldy. He was, moreover, at one time a candidate for the professorship of as- tronomy in Glasgow University. Carlyle's rapidly developing genius was recognized by his intimate asso- ciates, and he soon became the oracle of a little band of students, ambitious and poor — like himself. The years following his graduation were gloomy ones for Carlyle. His health was wretched ; dys- Year3 of pepsia, " gnawing like a rat at his stomach," struggle. had already begun to torment him. He had fallen into a great bitterness of doubt — doubt concerning the existence of a God, doubt in respect to human character — worst doubt of all, the doubt of himself. His plans for the ministry were long since abandoned. He tried school teaching, and disliked it heartily. At last, with the necessity of labor upon him, he settled, in 1818, at Edinburgh, determined to follow literature, and began to live by his pen. Such hack-work as he could get he did ; read French, Spanish, and Ger- man, especially the last, and in 1823 began his Life of Schiller in the London Magazine and published a translation of Goethe's great romance Wilhelm Meister. With Coleridge and De Quincey, Carlyle shares the honor of introducing English readers to the rich store of German literature. Finally the Edinburgh student conquered his skepticism and emerged into an atmos- phere of clear and positive belief. In 1826 Carlyle had married Jane Welsh, a lively, talented woman, who had a genuine taste for craigon- literature and a great admiration for her P uttocl1 - husband's genius. Two years later they settled upon a small estate belonging to Mrs. Carlyle at Craigen- 398 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON puttoch ; and there, for six years, they lived a rather isolated life. The necessity for utterance was upon Carlyle, as well Sartor as * ue neeess ity of a livelihood. He must Resartus. speak forth the thoughts that were burning within him ; but he must speak his thought in his own peculiar way. Editors refused to admit his articles to their pages because of their singular, apparently uncouth style ; but Carlyle was not to be moved ; he should be read as he wrote, or not at all. Thus it was not until 1833 that his first great work, the Sartor Resartus, after having been rejected by several edi- tors, at last found a place in Erasers Magazine. But once published this singular essay began to attract attention. The Sartor Resartus (The Tailor Repatched) is a remarkable philosophy of clothes — clothes being re- garded as the vestitures, or symbols, of what they cover. The sham and hypocrisy of life arouse the scornful laughter of the philosopher, who through a method unique in literature propounds his ideas of duty and preaches his doctrine of faith. It is the story of Carlyle's own personal struggle with his doubts that he embodies in this extraordinary work ; his own philosophy of life which he here flashes forth in brief and disconnected gleams of light amid the obscurities and complications of his romantic masquerade. It is Carlyle himself who discourses under the guise of the erudite Professor Teufelsdrbckh, who fills the chair of Things-in-General at the University of No- One-Knows-Where. It was his own intense purpose that was voiced in that ringing appeal at the close of the famous chapter on The Everlasting Yea : — " I too could now say to myself : Be no longer a Chaos, but a World, or even Worldkin. Produce ! Produce ! Were LECTURER AND HISTORIAN 399 it but the pitifullest infinitesimal fraction of a Product, produce it in God's name ! ' T is the utmost thou hast in thee : out with it then. Up, up ! Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy whole might. Work while it is called To-day ; for the Night cometh, wherein no man can work." In spite of its singular form, the Sartor Resartus must be recognized as one of the most stimulating and impressive books of the century. In 1834 the family removed to Chelsea in the suburbs of London, and three years later Carlyle ap- , . e • 1 v t Lecturer peared in a course of six public lectures upon andmsto- German literature. A year later this was rian - followed by a course of twelve lectures on the succes- sive Periods of European Culture ; and in 1839 by a series upon The Revolutions of Modem Europe. The famous course On Heroes, Hero Worship, and the He- roic in History was given in 1840. The matter and the manner of these lectures made a profound sensation in literary London. " It was," said Leigh Hunt, " as if some Puritan had come to life again, liberalized by German philosophy and his own intense reflections and experiences." The central thought in this, one of Car- lyle's most characteristic works, is that " universal his- tory, the history of what man has accomplished in this world, is at bottom the history of the great men who have worked here." In proof of his idea, he therefore treats in the successive lectures of (1) the hero as divinity, taking Odin for his type, (2) as prophet, using Mahomet for illustration, (3) as poet, with Dante and Shakespeare for examples, (4) as priest, making Luther and Knox the central figures, (5) as man of letters, finding three literary heroes in Johnson, Burns, and Rousseau, (6) as king, Cromwell and Napoleon standing for the qualities he exalts. 400 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON Since his arrival in London Carlyle had been busy upon his historical studies. In 1837 the work was completed and the History of the French Revolution appeared. Its author's fame was now assured. With an extraordinary skill he portrayed the figures promi- nent in that struggle, and with almost appalling real- ism painted the events of that dramatic epoch. The peculiarities of his style were not inappropriate to the theme. The work was recognized as a masterpiece in its kind. In Chartism (1839), Past and Present (1843), and Latter-Day Pamphlets (1850), Carlyle's Essaysand criticism of society grows querulous ; he Biogra- works upon a distinctly lower level than in his earlier essays. But Cromwell' 's Letters and Speeches (1845) and the Life of John Sterling (1851) are model biographies and belong with his best works. Finally his History of the Life and T"unes of Frederick, commonly Called the Great (1858-65), came as a fitting climax to his literary labors. Just after delivering his remarkable address at Edinburgh, upon his installation as Lord Hector of the University, in April, 1866 — the crowning honor of his life — he received the news of his wife's death. By this event Carlyle was completely broken ; although he lived until 1881, honored by the world which he had criticised and often abused, he produced nothing further of importance. It is, after all, as a teacher that Carlyle is to be re- place in garded ; and as has been true of many another, Literature. £j ie S pi t -it in which he taught and the manner of his teaching have proved of greater value to the world he endeavored to instruct than the mere matter of the lessons in the course. Thomas Carlyle is one of the great original influences in the moral life of his SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 401 century. The stimulus of his vigorous, pitiless pen is felt in the thought and sympathies of scores of lesser teachers who, perhaps, have worked unconscious of their debt to him. Selections from Carlyle, edited by H. W. Boynton (Allyn & Bacon), contains the essay on History, the suggestions essays on Burns and BoswelVs Johnson, and the i0T Study, two lectures on The Hero as Poet and The Hero as Man of Letters. These selections will furnish a good introduc- tion to Carlyle. In undertaking the study of Sartor Resar- tus, the student should have the text edited by Archibald MacMechan, in the Athenaeum Press Series (Ginn). The ideas advanced in these essays should not be slipped over without consideration and discussion. The verbal oddities, the coinage of new words, the grotesque use of old ones, should be noted and investigated ; striking examples may well be recorded as interesting specimens of peculiar usage. The composition of sentences should be studied, and the de- scription of Teufelsdrockh's failings in this regard be read in chapter iv. of Sartor Resartus. Carlyle's remarkable imagery, his figures of speech, will attract attention ; note the sources from which they are drawn and the effectiveness with which they are applied. Find illustrations of his power in ridicule, in pathos, in humor. Study the humor of Car- lyle ; it is unicpie in its quality and its expression. Note the extraordinary earnestness and evident sincerity of his style. Examine his portraitures of persons, of their appearance, their character. Energy rather than grace will be found to be a marked distinction of Carlyle. The chief biographer of Carlyle is J. A. Froude, although Ins taste in editing the papers of the essayist has Brief Bibli- been severely criticised. The Carlyle in the Eng- ography. lish Men of Letters Series is by J. Nichol ; the Life in the Great Writers Series is by Richard Garnett. The Remi- niscences of Carlyle himself are edited by C. E. Norton. There are important essays upon Carlyle by Lowell in My Study Windows, by E. P. Whipple in Essays and Reviews, 402 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON by Emerson in English Traits, and by Matthew Arnold in Discourses in America. A suggestive piece of criticism is Augustine Birrell's Carlyle in Obiter Dicta. For the analysis of Carlyle's prose style, see Minto's Eng- lish Prose Writers (Ginn). John Ruskin, third in this group of the great essay- ists, is in many aspects of his work sympa- Ruskin, thetically related to Carlyle. In the latter 1819-1900. an( | more characteristic period of his life, the resemblance is marked. Both men spoke boldly on the great principles of human conduct ; both threw them- selves passionately into their books. The style of each was distinct, but there was a similarity of temper : the same fiery heat of conviction in their expression, the same passion for truth and justice in both. They came of the common stock, and were proud of that distinc- tion : — " My mother was a sailor's daughter, and, please you, one of my aunts was a baker's wife, the other a tanner's ; and I don't know much more about my family, except that there used to be a green-grocer of the name in a small shop near the Crystal Palace," wrote Ruskin in one of his letters to workingmen. 1 Their lives wei'e devoted to the moral education of their countrymen ; their genius was spent in bringing their own idealism to bear upon the experiences of common life. John Ruskin was born in London. His father was _ . a wine merchant who had grown wealthy in Boyhood # . ° J and Early trade. Upon his death his son caused this inscription, " He was an entirely honest merchant," to be placed as his tribute to the integrity of the man. Ruskin's mother was a person of cultured tastes, a strict disciplinarian, vitally interested in the education and moral training of her son. 1 Fors Clavigcra. JOHN RUSKIN 403 " Being always summarily whipped," he says, "if I cried, did not do as I was bid, or tumbled on the stairs, I soon at- tained serene and secure methods of life and motion." * Both parents were lovers of good pictures and good books ; and under favoring conditions the boy came to discriminate and appreciate the best in literature and art. He read daily with his mother : on week days from Pope's Homer or the novels of Scott ; on Sun- days Robinson Crusoe and the Pilgrim's Progress. Evenings his father was accustomed to read aloud from Scott, Shakespeare, Byron, or Cervantes ; and to these readings he was privileged to listen. With the Bible, more than with any other book, John Ruskin was made familiar; and to this feature of his early training he attributed the possession of those qualities which give such distinction to his prose style. Under his parents' direction, too, he grew familiar with the beauty of flower and foliage, the charm of landscape, and the best productions of creative art. In summer excursions the family traveled through the most pic- turesque parts of England and Scotland, visiting the points of principal historic interest, inspecting the pic- ture galleries, studying both nature and art by the way. Upon his fourteenth birthday the boy received from his father as a gift a copy of Rogers's Italy, illustrated by Turner. The next summer he saw for the first time Italy and the Alps ; this experience he ever afterward regarded as his entrance into life. In 1836, at the age of seventeen, Ruskin became a student in Christ Church College, Oxford. Thestudont He won the Newdigate prize in the competi- oi Art - tion in verse, with his poem Salsette and Elcplianta, and contributed to various magazine articles upon paint- ing and architecture. In 1840 he left the University 1 Prcekrita. 404 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON on account of poor health, and for two years traveled much upon the continent and in England. He was able, however, to receive his degree in 1842. Like Carlyle, Ruskin had been intended for the Church ; but the allurements of art were too strong to be ignored ; he determined to devote his life to study and criticism, and followed up his resolve by publishing the first vol- ume of Modem Painters in 1843. From the appearance of the first volume of this ™^ „ ffreat work in 1843 until the publication of The Period ° l of Artcriti- the last in 18G0, John Ruskin was recognized as the foremost authority in art criticism, and as a master of English composition. His earliest criti- cism was a defense of the methods of the English artist, J. M. W. Turner, whom he ranked as " the great- est painter of all time." In the successive volumes of Modern Pai?it&)'S, with a diction and style unrivaled in English literature, Ruskin discussed, not only the productions, but the abstract principles of art. The great lesson that he taught was the fundamental impor- tance of Truth. The main business of art, as he declared, " is its service in the actual uses of daily life." " The giving of brightness to pictures is much, but the giving brightness to life, more." Two other important works, together with several of relatively minor importance, belong to this period of his life : The Seven Lamps of Architecture appeared in 1849, Stones of Venice in 1851-53 ; in both the writer dwelt strenu- ously upon the moral aspects of art. Ruskin's intimate Connection with the group of the Pre-Raphaelites, includ- ing William Morris, Holman Hunt, Rossetti, Burne- Jones, and Sir John Millais, was emphasized by the publication of Pre-JRaphaelitism in 1851. Here he defined the leading principle of that famous brother- hood to be the painting THE ETHICAL TEACHER 405 * of things as they probably did look and happen, not as, by rules of art developed under Raphael, they might be sup- posed gracefully, deliriously, or sublimely to have happened.''" The year 1860 marks a turning-point in Ruskin's career. The practical needs of men now The Ethical forced themselves, to the exclusion of all other Teacher, subjects, upon his thought. He became a teacher of practical ethics, a political economist, a student of socio- logical problems, and a promulgator of ideas which were then considered radical and unsafe — doctrines that aroused hostility, even contempt. Unto this Last (1860) and Munera Pulveris (1863) were the works in which he outlined the principles of his social science. The relations between employer and employed, the problem of wages, the basis of the science in absolute justice, the real sources of wealth, the evils of the com- petitive system, the rights of property — these and kin- dred topics were discussed in a spirit entirely new to the readers of that time ; it is a fact, however, that almost all the propositions then thought so dangerous to the interests of the state have been either adopted or seriously discussed by the practical economists of the present. In the first of a series of ninety-six monthly letters addressed to the workingmen of England under the peculiar title Fors Clavigera 1 (1871-78), Ruskin de- scribes characteristically his personal attitude at that time and the reasons for it : — " For my own part," he says, " I will put up with this state 1 In the second of these Letters Ruskin defines this enigmatical title : Fors may mean Force, Fortitude, or Fortune ; Clava, a Club, Clavis, a Key, Clavus, a Nail; Gero means I carry. From these meanings, therefore, we may interpret the title in three ways : — Fors, the Club-bearer, means the strength of Hercules, or of Deed. Fors, the Key-bearer, means the strength of Ulysses, or of Patience. Fors, the Nail-bearer, means the strength of Lycurgus, or of Law. 406 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON of things, passively, not an hour longer. I am not an unselfish person, nor an Evangelical one ; I have no particular pleasure in doing good ; neither do I dislike doing it so much as to ex- pect to be rewarded for it in another world. But I simply cannot paint, nor read, nor look at minerals, nor do anything rise that I like, and the very light of the morning sky, when there is any — which is seldom, nowadays, near London — has become hateful to me, because of the misery that I know of, and see signs of where I know it not, which no imagina- tion can interpret too bitterly." In this spirit, and with this determination, he wrote and taught throughout the pages of the twenty-three or twenty-four books published during this second period of his life. In Sesame and Lilies (1865), his most popular Remaining essay, Ruskin discourses of Kings' 1 Treasuries works. anc l f Queens' 1 Gardens : the first deals with books and reading ; the second with the education and duties of women. The Crown of Wild Olive (1866) contains three lectures on Work, Traffic, and War. The Queen of the Air (1869) is a study of Greek myths of Cloud and Storm. Love's Mcinie (1873) is a study of Birds; Proserpina (1874) a study of Wayside Flowers. In Ethics of the Dust (1865) Ruskin gives a series of charming Lectures to Little Housewives on the Elements of CryxtnUhation ; in Deucalion (1876) a series of Studies on the Lapse of Waves and the Life of Stones. Several volumes of lectures upon art ! are also included among his many works. Finally, in 1887, a most interesting autobiogra- phy, under the title Prmterita, appeared, his final work. The burden of Kuskin's message to the world has been to open men's eyes to the beauty that is in nature, 1 For the most part delivered at Oxford, where Raskin held the Blade Lectureship on Art. THEORY IN LIFE 407 in true art, and in right life. No other has ever ap- proached him, even among the poets, in the de- Theory ^ scription of river and rock, of plant and leaf, Llfe - of cloud and sky — of all natural phenomena — in that imaginative vision which sees into the life of things. A wave breaking upon the rocks is " one moment a flint cave ; the next a marble pillar ; the next a mere white fleece thickening the thundery rain." The ser- pent is " that running brook of horror on the ground," "that rivulet of smooth silver;" "startle it, — the winding stream will become a twisted arrow ; the wave of poisoned life will lash through the grass like a cast lance." His sense of color is a revelation : in describing the effect of light upon an opaque white mass like a cloud, an Alp, or Milan Cathedral, he talks of amber tints, of orange, of rose, of lemon yellows, of vermilion, of flamingo color, canary ; of blushes and flames of color ; when the cloud is transparent, then he speaks of golden and ruby colors, of scarlets, of Tyrian crimson and Byzantine purple ; of full blue at the zenith, and green blue nearer the horizon, " the keynote of the opposition being vermilion against green blue, both of ecmal tone, and at such a height and acme of brilliancy that you cannot see the line where their edges pass into each other." To see these things, to be impressed by them, and to be influenced thereby for good : this is the purpose of his teaching. The first article subscribed to by the members of St. George's Guild, a socialistic society established by Ruskin in 1873, is as follows : — " I trust in the living God, Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth, and of all things and creatures, visible and invisible. I trust in the kindness of His law, and the goodness of His work. And I will strive to love Him and to keep His law, and to see His work tvhile I live.'" 408 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON The social theories he had propounded Buskin did his best to realize in practical experiments, to which he devoted the bulk of his fortune ; the sympathies to which he had so fervently appealed found consistent expression in his personal relations with men. He established museums, art schools, and libraries, assisted young men and women to get an education, organized movements for improving the dwellings of the poor. His influence over his students and among the readers of his essays has been very marked. Modern move- ments in socialistic directions have embodied many of his ideas. The last years of John Ruskin's life were spent in retirement upon his estate of Brantwood, on Lake Con- iston, in the country of Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey ; here he died, in his eightieth year, January 20, 1900. As a text-book for the study of Ruskin, the volume of Se- Suggestions led ion s edited by Mrs. L. G. Hufford (Giun) is lor Study. admirable. A smaller volume, An Introduction to the Writings of John Ruskin, edited by Vida D. Scudder (Sibley & Ducker), contains briefer passages and single paragraphs illustrative of Ruskin's peculiar style. The two essays of Sesame and Lilies 1 would best be taken as the first selections to be read. It will be found helpful to make an outline of each essay, that the student may clearly trace the progress of the thought ami fix the specific points main- tained. Notice particularly Ruskin's statements concerning the motives for securing an education, his comments upon " books," how to read books, his analysis of the passage from Lycidas, the sympathetic attitude toward authors, his denunciation of the commercial spirit in the British public, the childishness of the nation, the discussion of false kings and true, and the description of the ideal library. These points are brought out in the first lecture : what are the 1 Published in Number 1-ki of the Riverside Literature Series. SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 409 links that logically connect these successive topics ? Ana- lyze the second lecture. What is its relation to the first ? What is its final purpose? What do you think of the part given to woman in the social order? What use is made of "books" in the argument? Do you accept the statements regarding Shakespeare's heroes and heroines ? Is it not odd that Ruskin does not produce George Eliot among his witnesses ? What is Ruskin's plan for the educa- tion of women ? Do you agree with him that women should not undertake the study of theology ? How does the essay- ist differentiate the girl's nature from the boy's — woman's work from man's ? The Queen of the Air is suggested as the next volume for study. Mrs. Hufford's analysis of the work will be found very helpful in keeping the relations of the various parts distinct. Notice the beautiful descriptive paragraphs so numerous in these essays ; study the diction closely, — the marvelous significance of words, the startling effectiveness of phrase. Notice also the didactic element, the sermonizing quality, in the work. The three essays taken from Unto this Last and the six letters from Fors Clavigera should be read as illustrating Ruskin's views upon economic problems. The Croivn of Wild Olive should be read by every young man ; Ethics of the Dust by every young woman. Selections, at least, from Modern Painters and Stones of Venice must be read by all who would know of Ruskin as the great word artist of our language and be familiar with his famous interpretations of nature and art. His wonderful descriptive power, his splendor of diction, his impetuous eloquence, are to be found in these works as nowhere else. The authoritative Life of Buskin is that by W. G. Col- lingwood (2 vols.) The Ruskin in the English Brief Bibll- Men of Letters Series is by Frederick Harrison, ography. Critical studies are numerous ; the following are most help- ful : John Ruskin, His Life and Teaching, by J. R. Mather ; The Work of John Ruskin, by Charles Wald- etein ; and John Ruskin, Social Reformer, by J. A. Hobson. 410 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON Join) Ruskin (personal reminiscences), by M. H. Spielmann, and the chapter on Ruskin in Frederick Harrison's Tenny- son, Ruskin, and Other Literary Estimates, are recent and valuable. A beautifully illustrated article upon Ruskin as an Artist, by M. H. Spielmann, in Scribner's Magazine for December, 1898, will be especially interesting. Critical ar- ticles of some value were published by Julia Wedgewood, in the Contemporary Review, March, 1900 ; by W . C. Brown- ell, in Scribner's Magazine, April, 1900 ; and by W. P. P. Longfellow, in the Forum, May, 1900. A bitterly hostile criticism appeared in Blackwood's for March of the same year. Ruskin's picturesque account of his own life in Pm- terita must not be overlooked. In the criticism of life and conduct, the essays of Matthew Arnold hold an important place. Arnold, Son of the famous Arnold of Rugby, a gradu- 1822-88. ate of that sc } 100 i anc i f Oxford, Matthew Arnold has won distinction as an apostle of Culture, as a means of attaining the ideal type. The tone of his criticism has been purely intellectual, often super- cilious, and more likely to awaken prejudice than popu- larity. The literary quality of his work places him with the best of our prose writers. His style is viva- cious, without enthusiasm, terse and luminous. His manner is severely classical, as far as possible removed from the rough impetuosity of Carlyle and the ornate eloquence of Macaulay or Ruskin. An undertone of skepticism and despondency runs through all of Arnold's work ; but his impartiality of judgment, his keen, passionless intellect, his almost infallible taste, make his criticism in the highest degree valuable. His Essays in Criticism (1865), including the essay on TJie Function of Criticism . , .. Troiiope, great novelists has had his following among 1815-82. ^ j esser s tory-writers. The influence of Thackeray is seen in the work of Anthony Troiiope, author of a long series of novels depicting the lives and fortunes of typical characters in various professions and callings. His first successful production was The Warden (1855) ; a continuation followed in Barches- ter Towers (1857). These two novels, together wit! CHARLES KINGSLEY 429 Framley Parsonage (1861), Orley Farm, The Small House at Ailing ton, Can you Forgive her, and The Last Chronicle of Barset (1867), are his best repre- sentative works. Many of the characteristics of Dickens are found in the novels of Reade. He shared the greater Charles novelist's enthusiasm for the stage, and was Reade, the author of many plays. His first serious effort in fiction, Peg Woffington (1852), has for its heroine a noted eighteenth century actress, celebrated for her vivacity and beauty as well as for her art. Charles Reade was the author of eighteen novels, sev- eral of them purpose stories aimed to arouse sentiment against various social wrongs. Of these, It is Never too Late to Mend (1856), Hard Cash (1863), and Put Yourself in his Place (1870) are best known. His one historical romance, dealing with the early stage of the Reformation period in Germany, Tfie Cloister and the Hearth, belongs with the masterpieces of its class. Chai'les Kingsley, an English clergyman, published in 1849 two earnest books which exerted a Charles marked influence upon the thought of the Kingsley, 1819-76 time. These were Alton Locke, descriptive of life in the London workshops, and Yeast, a study of conditions among the agricultural laborers. In 1853 appeared Hypatia, a fascinating narrative of the conflict between Christianity and Greek philoso- phy at Alexandria, about the beginning of the fifth century. His purely historical romances, Westward Ho! (1855) and Hereward the Wake (1866), are vigorous and brilliant pictures of English life in the age of Elizabeth and the period of the Norman Con- quest. In 1860 Kingsley had been made Professor of Modern History at the University of Cambridge. 430 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON In 1873 he was appointed Canon of Westminster and Chaplain to the Queen. The influence of the realistic school is still seen in ._. _ the work of scores of living writers who have The New ° Romantic followed more or less closely the methods of Movement, faeiv predecessors. But at the very close of the century we note a vigorous reaction from the meth- ods of realistic fiction and a return to romance, — a movement both interesting and instructive. It is the natural recoil from one extreme to the other. The old order changes and is replaced by the new. In this later romantic revival, Robert Louis Stevenson (1845- 94) has been the strongest representative. Treasure Island (1883), Kidnapped (1886), The Master of Ballantrae (1889), and David Balfour (1893) are all to be classed as narratives of pure adventure. It is a return to the romance of Scott. In a last, uncom- pleted novel, Weir of Hermiston, Stevenson left a work which should have been the promise of as great charac- ter creation as has ever been seen in English fiction. The methods of this later romanticism have gaiued not a little from the experiments of the realistic school. The extravagant absurdities of the old romanticists are not likely to return. On the other hand, the realists have also something to learn from the methods of ro- mance ; there is room for idealism in all study of life. Moreover, there is an inevitable law which links beauty with truth in all artistic expression. When the nov- elist becomes vulgar or trivial under the plea of fidelity to fact, he degrades literature and falls short of the ideal. There will follow an infallible readjustment of methods which will introduce a fashion more true to reality and more in accord with the principles and philosophy of art. THE LITERARY FIELD 431 VII. THE VICTORIAN POETS : BROWNING, TENNYSON. When Victoria came to the throne of England in 1837, the second generation of nineteeth cen- The Llter , tury writers was in full possession of the ar y Field - stage ; the majority of those who had won their laurels during the early years of the century had passed away, and only a few of those who were destined to make its closing years memorable in literary history had as yet found a place upon the scene. Byron, Scott, Shelley, Keats, Coleridge, Lamb — all were dead. Words- worth still survived, the period of his inspiration gone ; in 1837 he made the tour of Italy, of which he wrote Memorials after his return. Thomas De Quincey, in his fifty-second year, was living his eccentric life in Edinburgh ; he published The Revolt of the Tartars in 1837. It was the year in which Macaulay, then in In- dia, sent his essay on Bacon to the Edinburgh Review, and also the year in which Carlyle finished his great work upon The French Revolution and began his first course of public lectures in London. Bulwer was en- joying the fame brought by the publication of The Last Days of Pompeii (1834) and Rienzi (1835). Dickens finished Pickwick Papers in 1837 and began Oliver Twist in that same year. Thackeray was in- dustriously cultivating journalism, writing for The Times, contributing The Yellowplush Papers to Fraser^s Magazine, and supplying comic sketches for Cruikshank's Almanack. It was John Ruskin's first year of University residence ; he was making himself a master of the pencil, and writing articles upon The Poetry of Architecture for technical magazines. Mary Ann Evans, just out of school, was keeping house on her father's farm, widening her acquaintance with books, and strongly evangelical in her religious be- 432 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON liefs. In 1837 Matthew Arnold, fifteen years of age, entered Rugby School. Of the new poets, Browning had published Paracelsus in 1835 ; Tennyson had al- ready sent forth his second volume (1832), including TJie Millers Daughter, The Lotos-Eaters, The Pal- ace of Art, and The Lady of Shalott — he was now quietly perfecting his art and preparing for his next public appearance in 1842 ; William Morris was three years old; and 1837 was the year of Swinburne's birth. The literature of the Victorian age compares favor- ably with that of any other epoch in English history. Essayists, historians, scientists, novelists, and poets have together contributed to the glory of its record. In the drama alone has creative genius been conspicu- ously weak ; but here the deficiency has, perhaps, been more than met by the remarkable development in Eng- lish fiction. The work of the great prose writers of this era has been covered in our survey ; it remains only to speak of the great Victorian poets, at whose head stand Robert Browning and Alfred Tennyson. Robert Browning was born in London May 7, 1812. His father, a clerk in the Bank of England Robert nc e l Browning, for fifty years, was a man of taste in letters and art, and fostered this taste in his son. The poet's mother, a woman of deeply religious nature, was also a person of artistic temperament and fond of poetry. She was a romanticist ; the father a disciple of Pope. From the first Robert Browning was keenly suscep- tible to the influence of music, and a reminis- cence of the poet's childhood presents him to us a little white-robed figure indistinctly outlined in the dusk, stealing from his bed to listen to his mother who was playing in the twilight ; startled by the rus- ROBERT BROWNING 433 tling behind her she stopped, and the next moment the child leaped into her arms, sobbing passionately and whispering, " Play ! Play ! " 1 At eight, under his fa- ther's direction, he read Pope's Homer with delight ; but he soon yielded to the fascination of Byron's ro- mantic verse, and when his mother brought him copies of Shelley and Keats, he entered a new world of song ; then his true poetic development began. Browning's education was gained in a private school and at the University College, London, then just es- tablished. He entered in 1829, the year in which the college opened ; but here he remained only for a term or two. He had, like other poets, courted the muse in much youthful verse ; and while a schoolboy at Peck- ham, was fond of dreaming away the summer afternoons in an unfrequented spot by three huge elms, whence he had a view of London — the sight of which powerfully stirred his imagination. Once he found his way to the place at night, and the ruddy glare of the city lamps, glowing above the blackness, with the audible murmur of its distant streets, aroused in his mind first ideas of the tragic significance of life. We know little else of his school days. He was studious, contemplative, and retired. When Browning was about twenty years old, he planned a series of epic narratives which TheDeii- should depict the development of typical nitePlan - souls. He set himself to the study of the soul life. This determination gives us the key to his career ; the internal drama of the mind is the theme of his verse ; it is this which distinguishes him among poets as the " Subtlest assertor of the soul in song." 2 1 See Sharpe's Life of Robert Browning, ch. i. 2 The title given Browning- by his friend Alfred Domett, the hero of the poem Waring. 434 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON In pursuance of his plan Browning - completed, in 1832, his first important poem, Pauline, which was published through the generosity of an aunt the following year. The poem is a confession of a youth — a poet and a student — whose life, in spite of dreams of usefulness, has been misspent. Pauline is the name of the lady who edits it. "So I will sing on — fast as fancies come, Rudely — the verse being as the mood it paints. I am made up of an intensest life. I strip my mind bare, whose first elements I shall unveil. . . . And then I shall show how these elements Produced my present state, and what it is." The poem was crude, obscure, and scarcely understood ; but both its matter and its manner were significant of the poet's programme, and this programme he followed to the last. In 1833 Browning traveled in Europe, visiting Russia and Italy. During 1834-35 he com- Paracelsus . and Sor- posed the long dramatic poem Paracelsus. dell °' It was a wonderful production for a youth of twenty-two. " I go to prove my soul ! " the hero cries ; " I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive ! what time, what circuit first, I ask not : but unless God send His hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, His good time, I shall arrive ; He guides me and the bird. In His good time." The general theme of the poem may, perhaps, be sug- gested by the headings of its sections : Paracelsus aspires ; Paracelsus attains ; Paracelsus ; Paracelsus : i spires ; Paracelsus attains. There are many imper- fections in the poem and many beauties. It won the poet some notable friends. THE SECOND PERIOD 435 Browning was already at work upon another poem, but set that work aside at the request of the celebrated actor, Macready, for a play. In May, 1837, the drama of Strafford was completed and presented at the Covent Garden Theatre. It proved only a partial success. The great philosophical poem Sordello, thus interrupted, was not finished until 1840. It was another " soul " poem, the author's most ambitious effort. It was much longer than Paracelsus, more profound, and, alas, much more obscure. Several amusing anecdotes are told of those who attempted in vain to understand it. Carlyle declared that his wife had read the poem through without being able to decide whether Sordello was a man, a city, or a book. Tennyson affirmed that only two lines did he understand — and they were both lies : these were the opening, — " Who will may hear Sordello's story told, — and the closing, — " Who would has heard Sordello's story told." Between the years 1840 and 1870 Browning pro- duced his best work. He had then emerged The second from the heaviness and abstruseness of the Perlod - first period and wrote with a freshness and vigor of style that gave intense dramatic interest to the expres- sion of profoundest thought. In 1841 was published Pippa Passes, a genuine masterpiece of creative power. The story of the poem is an episode in the life of Felippa, or Pippa, a little silk-winder from the factory in Asolo, an Italian town in the Trevisan. Upon her birthday, which is New Year's Day, Pippa spends her unwonted leisure wishing she might do some small ser- vice in the world. She allows her childish imagination to participate in the happiness of certain prominent personages who are in the town — the happiest of all 436 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON in Asolo : Ottiina, illicitly beloved by Sebald ; Luigi, the idol of his mother ; Phene, that day to become the bride of the young artist Jules ; and Monsignor, who is to arrive from Rome, whose happiness must be the greatest of all, because his is a spiritual affection, the sacred passion of the Holy Church. Thus Pippa passes through the city, singing her blithe song : — " God 's in his heaven — All 's right with the world ! " until, unconsciously, she becomes a saving element in the soul struggle of each of these great people and the instrument of consequences momentous to herself. Pijypa Passes was published as the first of a series of volumes, eight in all, which appeared at intervals from 1841 to 1846, under the general title Bells and Pome- granates. The series included the Dramatic Lyrics (1842), the Dramatic Romances and Lyrics (1845), and five of Browning's poetical dramas, of which A Blot in the 'Scutcheon (1843) and Golombe's Birth- day (1844), are the best known. In 1846 the poet was married to Elizabeth Barrett. Elizabeth This gifted woman had already published two Barrett. 01 , three volumes of song which had won ready recognition by their worth. She was an invalid for many years, and at the time when her acquaintance with Robert Browning began had, apparently, not long to live. Her father, a man of obstinate and violent temper, opposed the friendship strenuously ; but four months after their first meeting, the two poets were quietly married and slipped away to Italy, where they continued to reside until Mrs. Browning's death in 1861. The married life of the Brownings was ideally happy. Each was an inspiration to the other ; and in the new environment of love and happiness, health and life came back to the invalid. THE RING AND THE BOOK 437 " I yield the grave for thy sake, and exchange My near sweet view of heaven for earth with thee," she wrote in one of her Sonnets from the Portuguese, — love poems written in their home at Pisa and, under the disguise of a purely fanciful title, dedicated to her husband. They afterward removed to Florence, where Mrs. Browning wrote Casa Guidi Windows and Au- rora Leigh. In 1849 their son, Robert, was born ; and in the same year Browning's Poetical Works were published in two volumes. In 1853-54 the Brownings passed the winter in Rome. Here were written the poems published in the following year under the title Men and Women, including Era Lippo Lippi, The Epistle of Karshish, and the completed version of Saul. The volume was dedicated in a beautiful introductory lyric, One Word More, to the poet's wife. In the spring of the next year Mrs. Browning presented her husband with the first six books of Aurora Leigh. During the five years following Mrs. Browning's death in 1861, Robert Browning wrote comparatively little ; yet to this period belong some of the most not- able among his shorter poems : James Lee's Wife, Abt Vogler, A Death in the Desert, Rabbi Ben Ezra, and Prospice. In 1868-69 appeared the poet's real masterpiece, The Ring and the Booh. This extraordinary work, consisting of some 20,000 and the lines, longer than the Iliad and twice as long 00 " as Paradise Lost, contains the dramatic recital of a brutal crime, — Count Guido Franceschini's murder of his wife. Out of this unpromising material Browning has constructed a fascinating and impressive study in character ; it is a drama of the consequences of an act, and its effect on the soul. The story of the crime is told by nine different persons, including the murderer, his victim (who makes an ante-mortem statement), a 438 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON young priest (who has been the friend of the wife), the public prosecutor, the advocate, and the pope (to whom appeal is made). The significance of the title is explained by its symbolism. A goldsmith in mak- ing a ring mixes alloy with the pure metal, so that the gold can be modeled by art ; when the ring is made, the alloy is removed by acid. The book referred to is the yellow-colored text of evidence submitted in the trial of Count Guido at Rome in 1698. It contains the truth of circumstantial fact. Now the poet will take his material thus discovered, mix fancy with the fact, and beat out in his own way the finer truth which his artist's eye discerns — " Because it is the glory and the good of Art, That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truth." Full with the vivacity and cheeriness of a vigorous physique, Browning passed the later years of his life partly in Venice, partly in London ; he never returned to Florence after Mrs. Browning's death. He was fond of company ; he continued active in brain and body to the end. Of the fourteen vol- umes of verse published between 1870 and 1890, it is not necessary to speak in detail. His best poetry be- longs to the middle period of his life. Always philo- sophical, his philosophy became more abstruse, his expression more eccentric in the later works. But the magnificent virility of his style, and the triumphant optimism of his healthy soul, characterized his poetry to the end. He died in Venice December 12, 1889, and his body was finally laid in Westminster Abbey. Of all the poets, Browning most demands a guide. It has Suggestions so long been the custom to magnify the " ob- lor Study. scurity " of Browning's poetry that much injustice has been done both the poet and the possible reader of his SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 439 work ; at the same time, for one beginning to read Brown- ing, some direction is almost essential. An especially use- ful guide is An Introduction to the Study of Robert Brown- ing's Poetry, by Hiram Corson (Heath). Let the student read the introductory essays, particularly that upon "Brown- ing's Obscurity," and then follow the order of the selected poems which Professor Coi^son includes. When the struc- ture of the dramatic monologue is once understood, he will have no great difficulty in comprehending the poet. If one does not have Professor Corson's Introduction, he would best begin with the Dramatic Romances and Lyrics, tak- ing the familiar How they Brought the Good Neivs from Ghent, Home Thoughts, The Boy and the Angel, The Glove, The Lost Leader ; then The Flight of the Duchess, The Italian in England, and The Englishman in Italy. Then let him take the volume of Men and Women and read the two great " artist " poems, Era Lippo Lippi and Andrea del Sarto. These are both monologues, the principal person in each poem speaking throughout, but indicating by his expres- sion the presence of one or more auditors who really enter into the conversation and action of the piece. The first is a study of one of the early realists among the Italian painters, — the Carmelite monk, shut up by his patron, Cosimo de' Medici, and breaking out of bounds for an evening's amusement on the streets. He has been picked up by the watch and speaks, as a captive, to the officer in command. He tells the story of his rather sorry life and discourses significantly upon his art. The pith of the poem is in lines 283-315. The doc- trine expressed in " This world 's no blot for us, Nor blank ; it means intensely, and means good," is one often reiterated by the poet. Andrea del Sarto, one of the most delicate characterizations produced by Browning, is in a sense antithetical to the other poem. It is a quiet, sombre, " twilight " piece. Andrea, " the faultless painter," has reached the full measure of his attainment and recog- nizes his failure to reach the highest promise of his art ; 440 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON he never will equal Angelo or Raphael, because his soul has ceased to grow ; his weak moral purpose, his infatuation with the faithless, soul-less Lucrezia, have robbed him of the con- summation that might have crowned his effort ; and he is willing that things should be as they are. He also inter- prets his own career : — " Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what 's a heaven for ? " In both these poems Browning exhibits a distinct acquaint- ance with the technique of painting, a thorough knowledge of the time concerned, as Avell as profound insight into human character. The Bishop Orders his Tomb at Saint Praxed's is a study of the worldliness, inconsistency, and pride, com- mon enough in the period of the Italian Renascence, re- vealed in the character of this hypocritical, luxurious old man, whose ruling passions are still strong in death. The Epistle of Karshish, the Arab Physician is one of the poet's masterpieces ; note the delicate touch in details which sug- gest the local color and atmosphere. Karshish, in his jour- ney, has met a most wonderful case ; the man claims to have been recovered from the dead, and his singular behavior, his apathy and his enthusiasms, have so wrought upon the mind of Karshish that he must needs write his master all about it ; he is half ashamed of the impression made upon him, and seemingly avoids the real purpose of his letter until it bursts forth in a climax of remarkable power. Aside from the skill with which the entire theme is developed, the care- ful study of the attitude of Lazarus — one called again from the dead — is to be noted. Among Browning's distinctively religious subjects, the treatment of the theme in Saul is the most notable ; poetic inspiration has never produced any- thing more impressive than this conception of Hebrew char- acter in the shepherd boy David, his relation to the great first king, and his outburst of prophetic song. In the study of Ibis masterpiece note the various details that give realism to the setting as regards scenery and national characteristics ; then follow the sequence of events : what is the first effect of SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 441 David's singing, and what song produces that effect ? Dis- tinguish the themes of all the songs — the effect of each upon Saul. Study the nature of the climax in section 18. What purpose is served in the conclusion, section 19 ? Com- pare with this poem the one entitled A Death in the De- sert. Read next some of the poems in Dramatis Personoe : Abt Vogler, the musician's poem, and Rabbi Ben Ezra, the embodiment of much of Browning's philosophy concerning life. Note the strong optimistic expression in all these poems. Bring together some of the clear, forceful statements of that philosophy, such as : — " The best is yet to be." " What I aspired to be And was not, comforts me." " Perfect I call Thy plan : Thanks that I was a man ! " " All good things Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul ! " " There shall never be one lost good ! " etc. Find similar sentiments in Saul and note them in the reading of other poems. Weigh each stanza of Rabbi Ben Ezra : what is the direct teaching of stanzas 22, 23, 24 ? Having read the poems named, and others in these vol- umes, take up Pippa Passes ; then read one or two sections of The Ring and the Book, if interest and appreciation grow. This last work should not be made a task ; unless its peculiarities of structure and manner are thoroughly en- joyed, do not attempt it ; it may be best read, if undertaken leisurely, as an entire winter's course. There is a fine edi- tion, illustrated from photographs, edited by Charlotte Por- ter and Helen A. Clarke (Crowell). Paracelsus and Sor- dello should not be read until one finds oneself thoroughly in touch with the poet and anxious to extend the acquaint- ance ; but any one may safely look for the superb song in Paracelsus, "Over the sea our galleys went." In all reading of Browning, note the strong virility of expression, the 442 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON intensity of thought and passion, the insight into character, the hearty sympathy with life, the prominence given to soul conflicts, the vigorous dramatic sense, and the truly wonder- ful scope and variety shown in the selection of material. How many different races are represented among Browning's characters ? The most convenient short life of Browning is that hy Briei Bibii- William Sharp, in the Great Writers Series. ography. The Browning in the English Men of Letters Series is by G. K. Chesterton. There is an extended biography by Mrs. Sutherland Orr (Houghton, Mifflin and Company), also a Handbook to the Works of Broivning, by the same author. The Introduction by Hiram Corsor. (Heath) has been already mentioned as indispensable to the beginner. There are other introductions, numerous com- mentaries, and essays beyond number. Reference to E. C. Stedman's Victorian Poets is recommended. The vivacious essay by Augustine Birrell in Obiter Dicta, On the Alleged Obscurity of Mr. Browning's Poetry, will be found some- what reassuring by those who are in difficulty. The Cam- bridge Edition of Browning's Complete Poetic and Dra- matic Works (Houghton, Mifflin and Company) is the best edition for students' use. The same house publishes also the Riverside Edition in six volumes. Number 115 of the Riverside Literature Series contains selected short poems. The real representative poet of the Victorian era, Alfred " England's voice " through half a century, Tennyson, W as Alfred Tennyson. He was in many ways 1809-92. j time his experiments in this field are by no means fail- ures. Three ambitious historical dramas, Queen Mary (1875), Harold (1876), and Becket (1884), represent his worthiest attempts. Two of these plays have been produced, and the last named, Becket, has, in the hands of Sir Henry Irving, met with no small degree of suc- cess. It is, however, best appreciated as a reading 1 See page 185. 450 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON play. A lighter drama, The Foresters, was first pre- sented in 1892. It added nothing to its author's fame. Between 1880 and 1890 several volumes of poetry The Close o! were published, but Tennyson's best work had Tennyson's been produced. The poet varied his residence between his beautiful estate at Farringford in the Isle of Wight and at Aldworth in Surrey, where he had established a summer and autumn home. In 1884 he accepted a peerage with the title of Baron Tennyson of Aldworth, Surrey, and Freshwater, Isle of Wight. He continued deeply interested in all public questions of national concern, was a strong Conservative in politics, but believed profoundly in the expansion of British power and the promotion of England's gloi'y. Something of his old-time vigor was shown in Demeter and Other Poems, the last collection of poems published before his death ; and one beautiful lyric, Crossing the Bar, came like the fabled swan-song, the poet's final utterance of hope and trust. "Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark i And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark ; " For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar." * Tennyson died at Aldworth October 6, 1892. His family was about him. It was evening ; there was no light but that of the full harvest moon which filled the room. Upon his bed the volume of Shakespeare, from 1 This poem, suggested to the poet while crossing the Solent from the Isle of Wight, was designated by Tennyson as the one which he wished to appear at the end of the volume containing his completed work. SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 451 which he had been reading, still lay open at the dirge in Cymbeline, — " Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages ; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Quiet consummation have ; And renowned be thy grave ! " Thus was the passing of our last great English poet ; his finished work in its entirety the choicest gift to permanent literature that the century had to offer in its close. In reading the poetry of Tennyson, its essentially English character is felt. Its source and inspiration is Sugges . national. Compare the titles in the index of his tionsfor poems with the titles of Browning's poems, or stud y- those of Byron and Shelley, or any other nineteenth century poet ; only Wordsworth is comparable with Tennyson in this respect. The poems suggestive of classic sources — (Enone, Ulysses, Tithonus, Tiresias, Demeter, Persephone, Lucre- tius, — may well be studied in their group, with reference to their classical quality. That Tennyson was not unsuscep- tible to the influence of Theocritus and Vergil is abundantly proved by the numerous allusions to those poets hidden in his verse (compare the article by Maurice Thompson in The Independent, November 17, 1898, and that by W. P. Mus- tard in The American Journal of Philology, April, May, and June, 1899) . There is much in Tennyson that reminds us of Keats, much to suggest the manner of Wordsworth. Note a few of these echoes in The Day-Dream, Amphion, Walking to the Mail, The Talking Oak, The Golden Year, and Edward Gray. Of that beautiful pastoral masterpiece, Dora, Wordsworth himself said : " Mr. Tennyson, I have been endeavoring all my life to write a pastoral like your Dora, and have not succeeded." x But these resemblances are only echoes ; the style is truly Tennysonian. 1 Life of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, by his son, vol. i., p. 265. 452 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON Alfred Tennyson was not a nature poet — certainly not a Attitude worshiper of nature like Wordsworth ; nor was toward he the interpreter of nature, adopting the con- ventional tone of poets like Scott, Byron, and Shelley. To him there was nothing mystical or transcen- dental in nature. She had her mystery to him as to us all ; he frankly admitted that ; his fancy, his imagination, did not seek to fathom it. " Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of your crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower — but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is." These six lines express practically Tennyson's nature creed. In this connection read the lines On a Mourner and The Higher Pantheism. He has no explanation of the life which informs ; he leaves the mystery a riddle, he confesses that he does not understand. The supernatural element in nature Tennyson has no power to reveal. Yet we are not to suppose that for lum nature had no charm. Not even Woi'dsworth was more keenly alive to her beauty or her power. All her forms and varying phases impressed him profoundly : bright colors, play of light and shade, the pass- ing cloud, the gathering storm, the rise and set of sun, the change of season, the silence of the woods, the blossoming of flowers, the ripening wheat, the song and flight of birds, the restless beating of the sea — these all impressed him, but always in relation to human interests, not of or for them- selves alone. His invocation to " divinest memory," with its Miltonic echoes, an early piece, may be read as one of the simplest illustrations of this point. This Ode to Memory pictures the surroundings of the Lincolnshire birthplace. It is rather as a student of nature that Tennyson writes in his maturer poems, whether in descriptive passages or in the numerous allusions to natural phenomena with which his compositions are abundantly adorned. While still a boy he was a keen observer of the habits of birds and beasts and ATTITUDE TOWARD NATURE 453 ants and bees. At one time he kept a tame snake in his room ; he liked to watch its wonderful sinuosities upon the carpet. In one of his private letters he tells a friend of the in- terest he took in examining the embryos of two little snakes " with bolting eyes and beating hearts," and wished he had had a microscope to study them more minutely. The poet was a watcher of the heavens and had had a platform built on the house roof at Farringford, which was a favorite resort for him at night. In 1857 Bayard Taylor visited the poet and subsequently described a walk with Tennyson across the island. Taylor says : " During the conversation with which we beguiled the way, I was struck with the variety of his knowledge. Not a little flower on the downs which the sheep had spared escaped his notice, and the geology of the coast, both terrestrial and submarine, was perfectly familiar to him." At one time the poet began the compilation of a flower dictionary. He bought spy-glasses, with which to watch the movements of birds in the ilexes, cedar and fir trees. Geology he studied in earnest and trudged on many an expedition of discovery with the local geologist at Far- ringford. In the beauty of nature he took genuine delight. He would walk any distance to see a bubbling brook or a tree of unusual stateliness or growth. Sometimes Tennyson was moved by the spirit of nature within him to go forth from the haunts of men. In 1848 he felt a craving to make a lonely sojourn at Bude. " I hear," he said, " that there are larger waves there than on any other part of the British coast, and must go thither and be alone with God." He was ever more profoundly influenced by the sea than by any other of nature's manifestations. Features in the landscape that impressed him, and the phenomena observed by him, were often reproduced in his poetry. His son records a number of interesting illustrations of this fact in the biography of his father. Thus in the fine passage in Lancelot and Elaine beginning " They couched their spears and pricked their steeds," etc.. the poet introduces a simile as follows : — 454 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON " as a wild wave in the wide North-sea Green-glimmering toward the summit, bears with all Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies, Down on a bark," etc. This comparison was suggested by an experience during a trip to Norway in 1858, described in his journal thus in part : " One great wave, green shining, past with all its crests smoking high up beside the vessel." The line in stanza iv. of The Daisy — " By bays, the peacock's neck in hue " — was similarly suggested during a walk in Cornwall : " Walked seaward. Large crimson clover ; sea purple and green, like a peacock' 's neck.'" Descriptive passages should be studied in some detail. Take the introduction to Enoch Arden : note the details in the first nine lines ; sketch or diagram the picture. Compare the descriptions in The Dying Swan, The Lotos-Eaters, The Voyage of Maeld une, The Lady of Shalott, The Ara- bian Nights, with those in The Gardener's Daughter and The Miller's Daughter. What difference do you note in these two groups — why should it be so ? Make a special study of the nature similes and the descriptive passages in The Princess, noting especially the remarkable battle nar- rative near the close of section v. Compare with this last the battle scene in Geraint and Enid. There are some wonderful pictures of the sea scattered through the poems : read the description of the flood tide in Sea Dreams. It might be interesting to note what birds are introduced by Tennyson, and how they are described : " the cuckoo told his name to all the hills," the " redcap whistled," " the mel- low ouzel fluted in the elm," " ring sudden scritches of the jay," "where hummed the dropping snipe," "The lark could scarce get out his notes for joy, But shook his song to- gether," etc. What Jfowers grow most freely in Tennyson's garden ? A characteristic allusion which shows the scien- tific accuracy of Tennyson's manner is found in the compari- son (The Princess, v. 187) — ARTISTIC METHODS 455 " Not a thought, a touch, But pure as lines of green that streak the white Of the first snowdrop's inner leaves." The technique of Tennyson should receive some attention from the student ; no other English poet lends Artistic himself so readily to this study. Indeed, much Methods, concerning the art of poetry may be learned from the study of Tennyson's verse. The poet's strict and impartial criti- cism of his own productions had its natural result in many directions. Since Pope's, there has been no English verse so free from flaw. Of his songs, Tennyson himself thought the best to be : In the Valley of Cauteretz, Courage, Poor Heart of Stone, Break, Break, Break, The Bugle Song {The Princess), Ask me no More {The Princess), Tears, Idle Tears {The Princess), and Crossing the Bar. There are some particular lines to which Tennyson has called attention as particularly satisfactory to himself. He re- garded this line as one of the best he had ever written : — " Universal ocean softly washing all her warless isles." For simple rhythm he regarded as most successful the verse : — " Come down, O Maid, from yonder mountain height." Take account of the consonantal sounds in this verse and note the effect of these m's and n's, these d's and t's. It is by the combination of sounds and rhythms that the poet gains his effects : the matter of consonants and vowels, therefore, is one of considerable significance in the mechan- ics of this art. Tennyson was exceedingly sensitive to the unpleasant sound of the letter s, when too much in evidence. Ridding the line of this disagreeable sibilation, he called " kicking the geese out of the boat." " I never put s's to- gether in any verse of mine," he said ; " my line is not as often quoted, " And freedom broadens slowly down," but " And freedom slowly broadens down." He considered the close of his Tiresias to be the best of his 456 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON blank verses. Among his many beautiful similes he was most fond of that in Locksley Hall: — Love took up the glass of Time, and turned it in his glowing hands, Every movement, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might ; "Smote the chord of Self, that, tremhling, pass'd in music out of sight." The student may with advantage study these examples in their immediate connection and discover for himself similar effects in other passages. In the selection of melodious words Tennyson was re- markably happy ; many of his very early poems, in which occur the frequent repetitions of such rhymes as shiver, quiver, river; low, mellow ; ambrosial, carol; aweary, dreary ; cheerly, clearly ; lispeth, welleth, dwelleih, swelleth, etc., are obvious experiments in the effect of sound. With a view to this quality of the verse, read The Lady of Shalott, The Lotos-Eaters, the Ode on Wellington, and such pas- sages as are met in other poems. What quality in the words makes the verse so effective in the songs The Sj>lendor Falls and Sweet and Low {The Princess), in the early Song, — " The winds as at their hour of hirth," and in such lines as these, in Demeter : — " What sound was dearest in his native dells ? The mellow lin-lan-lone of evening bells, Far-far-away." Tennyson is a master of concise phrasing. A dreamer sees a tiny fleet of glass wrecked on a golden reef : — "The little fleet Touch'd, clink'd, and clash' d, and vanish' d." (Sea Dreams.) " He makes no friends who never made a foe." " Then trust me not at all, or all in all." " His honor rooted in dishonor stood, And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true." (Lancelot and Elaine.) The imagery of Tennyson's poetry is perfect. There is no straining of comparisons, no mixing of meta- Imagery. ^] lorg rp ne p 0e t' s perfected judgment was author- itative. Simple, pure, flawless, they may well be described PORTRAYAL OF CHARACTER 457 by that splendid figure of the laureate's own coinage, as " Jewels five-words-long That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever." (The Princess, ii. 351.) Was there ever a comparison more faultless than this ? — " Music that gentlier on the spirit lies Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes." (The Lotos-Eaters.) The poet's name will be always associated with what ie called the In Memoriam stanza, an arrangement skillfully used by him. This measure he thought to have been originated by himself, until told that it had been used both by Sir Philip Sidney and by Ben Jonson. It is admirably adapted to the purpose of the elegy. Tenny- son employs great variety in metrical forms ; but further than recognizing this variety and the special fitness to the theme of the various arrangements, it is hardly necessary for the student to go. It will be sufficient if he attains a clearer perception and more intelligent enjoyment of the broader yet delicate effects of rhythm and tone which constitute the real music of the poet's song. Of the dramas, the student would best take Becket for his study, noting the artistic effect of the Prologue, Portrayal with its significant game of chess, the self-revela- of Charao- tion of Henry's impulsive, irresponsible character, the strength of Eleanor, and the calm, conscientious, master- ful spirit of Becket. Follow the development of the action, noting the special dramatic moments in Becket's career, such as the scene with Fitzurse, with Rosamund (Act I., scene 1), with the prelates (Act I., scene 3), the scene of Becket's temporary triumph (Act II., scene 2), the moment of his final resolve at the close of Act III. (the climax), and the murder of the archbishop in the cathedral (Act V., scene 3). Act IV., in which Eleanor and Rosamund meet, is worthy of special attention — an incident of remarkable dramatic intensity and interest. Tennyson, like Browning, made use of the dramatic monologue. His success with this form of 458 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON composition should be noted. Ulysses is a good example, also St. Simeon, Stylites ; note the first as an example of classic characterization, the second as a study of medie- valism. Great dramatic force is attained in The First Quarrel. Most of the monologues in dialect, like The Northern Farmer, The Grandmother, The Village Wife, and The Spinster's Sweet-Arts, are humorous poems. In The Northern Cobbler we have an eccentric character but a serious theme. Good editions of Tennyson's poems are the Cambridge Brief Bib- Edition (Houghton, Mifflin and Company) and llogTaphy. The Works of Tennyson (1 vol., Macmillan). Nu- merous school editions of selected poems exist, among them Numbers 73, 99, 111 of the Riverside Literature Series — the first containing four of the Idylls of the King, the second Enoch Arden and other poems, the third The Princess, edited by W. J. Kolfe. The Princess, edited by A. S. Cook, in the Standard English Classics (Ginn), and The Princess, edited by A. J. George (Heath), are excellent text-books. The authoritative biography of the poet is the Life of Alfred Tennyson (2 vols.), by his son, Hallam Tennyson (Macmillan). In the English Men of Letters Series the Tennyson is by Alfred Lyall. There is a brief Life of Tennyson by A. Waugh (United States Book Company). Of the commentaries on Tennyson, The Poetry of Tenny- son, by Henry van Dyke (Scribner), Tennyson, his Art and his Relation to Modern Life, by Stopford Brooke, and A Tennyson Primer, by W. M. Dixon ( Dodd, Mead and Com- pany), are especially recommended. Tennyson's In Memo- riam : Its Purpose and Structure, by J. F. Genung (Hough- ton, Mifflin and Company), should be used in studying the Elegy. Refer to E. C Stedman's The Victorian Poets (Houghton, Mifflin and Company). In studying The Idylls of the King, read Tennyson's Idylls of the King and Arthu- rian Story, by M. W. Maccallum (Macmillan), or Tenny- son's Idylls of the King, by Harold Littledale (Macmillan). Studies in Literature : Mr. Tennyson and Mr. Browning, by Edward Dowden, will be useful for general reference upon THE MINOR POETS 459 both these poets ; also The Great Poets and their Theology, by Augustus H. Strong (American Baptist Publication Society). To the generation of Browning and Tennyson belong the numerous minor poets of the Victorian t^ Mi nor era : Edward FitzGerald (1809-83), author Poets - of a remarkable version of The Rubdiydt of the Persian poet Omar Khayyam ; Arthur Hugh Clough (1819- 61), the poet of spiritual unrest, of doubt and struggle, a friend of Matthew Arnold, and the subject of that poet's elegiac poem Thyrsis ; Dante Gabriel Ros- SETTi (1828-82), painter as well as poet, prominent among the Preraphaelite Brotherhood, author of The Blessed Damozel and The House of Life. William Morris (1834-96), a minor poet only in comparison with the two great leaders of the era, was the most fa- mous of the Preraphaelites. He introduced the spirit of art into the mechanic trades ; and, like Ruskin, taught and practiced the principles of socialism in con- nection with his craft. His literary themes he found in the past.' His first volume of lyrics, The Defence of Guinevere (1858), represents the romance of medi- evalism ; The Life and Death of Jason (1867) is based on Grecian legend. His masterpiece, The Earthly Paradise (1870), is a collection of tales of many lands, north, south, east, and west, bound together in a roman- tic narrative, with all the art of the old French story- tellers, and not unlike that of Chaucer himself. Morris is the author, also, of a long series of prose romances, of which The Hoiise of the Wolfings and The Land of the Glittering Plain are perhaps the best known. Like the poems, these works are full of the dreamy medieval atmosphere which charmed his spirit, and are as much poetry as prose ; they are imaginative, picturesque in the extreme, and almost archaic in their pure Saxon diction. In all these compositions he is as 460 FROM WORDSWORTH TO TENNYSON pronounced a romanticist as Keats, creating works of beauty because he delights in beautiful creations, and illustrating - perfectly the principle of art for art's sake. One poet, still liviug, should be mentioned in this group, for his generation is that of those recorded here. Algernon Charles Swinburne (born 1837) was an early associate of Morris and Iiossetti. He is the author of many ballads, lyrics, epics, and dramas. His strongest work is the Atalanta in Calydon (1864). Swinburne is recognized as a master of technique in verse construction and of musical effect — one of the greatest masters of these qualities in our literature. Prose and poetry — history, fiction, drama, essay — the flood of literature rolls on its continuous course. Just in the present we think we miss the broad, strong sweep of its earlier power ; the energy of this age is perhaps finding its expression in other fields ; the inspiration of its experience and achieve- ments has not yet been felt ; the literature of the new certury has not yet begun. But the past is our herit- age : what a heritage it is ! what glorious minds these men possessed ! what glorious souls ! And these are forever our possession, in our books. ENGLISH LITERATURE 461 W B (A W H 00 o 04 w a SI o 50 $ r— 1 *-". ■a H ^ao ■P 00 S rQ £ ^ rt £ a 13 60^ O "o •£ J Cd ~^ 03 --5. v D *■ .8 3 a . ■-a a, ^oo >-3 ~3 3 a a iO "aco •~ r— I V. 00 i— I o CO g i -1 co'd. *• • ^-co a 5 »4* 1— I '*■* & CO-S So-Sk} sCO ^ SJi^ S&l^ a •-* " a =h-B a - i-i ■ — • a — *- ^s » 9 a a: ■*"* m s « as 3 I -- a % a a * "<3 O t- JL i-i T_l i-H g ( o « * : ^ r- i— ' ^if *»> a ^^^^ t> o o CI Q 00 o s o 00 co«^ i-H 5> a ^ . t- ^CO 3 a 5o^ a '5 o '00 sp 1^ K *^S CO - u. « a> oo^-, ^Too i-< . CO 00 iTr^ r-\ CO ■*—■ 0) a a '■h a!> ojoo CI R eg i-5 d.3 1 i-T fl l^; i— ' CJ-S I s 60 4) V W5 oCO U i3 •w c< O 0> CO -*J co-rj i -1 i-J CO o J— .F4 r-l W .2 CO «S' s CO e^ 7&5~ a 4 a s a co ^ : w i 2:a-s 93 r^ - — -00 ^ 00 ---^' — ' ^ S S a A a 13 ° j< s «,» So " 00 ®7 E5© a,eo is 4G2 ENGLISH LITERATURE g H O O W S3 H « W H u Ed rH H !z; ■< H - O Ph B 1-4 o r* « -< o ►J o o = I © 00 IH w K -~~ O «. I* 3 ^ co oo t° CO OS ■«* CO £-> >u co oo t« j- ^ co cm on ■ — -3^ a CO o <— a CO rt ■ ~ k 4, e a Q oe 2 c * 5 CO oo ^. ft, cs ^ ST CO r-l -c; LrH GO J S 00 12 "5 2 to !»8 c<>0 . 2 R r-l e-C co CO _m §=?ct^ o CO t rj 00 jr «0 a s a coco © en *> g St- CO u, 5; cm 5: co c o 00 O 00 01 s — — - e s *^ 2 g^ r- S . b* *" •fii-i DO 1. ?> "9 &2,4 ^ "c- — -S3 "Sec e CO .T! co t; .22-2 c. I - co ^ co <^ to IS (. ^ CO a o jw 0- t— 1 ^ CO «u o t g-tCfj -r X -c: CO « o z^ HI c 1 .Soo L. ENGLISH LITERATURE 463 o Szi §1? CO B o co 1-3 as GO « a m 10 b £? Sco a> b -G ^"b 8 Oh Bs a "a a ^~ OS jn go a b CO § tq T3 O B as CO ^ <© b CO '■a ,B o> OS |0 - — . rj^co •5 s i ft S 2s. . o CO tr- CO CO 10h«s cm . co co i— i in ^co 2 os a 3 fc]Sq a « m . co c- os^ V co-~- m o . rH t Gi 2 32 m as a -vj -q £ H a as 5 2=?. co CO a CD os oo a i-H O ^dQO co^-' . tq s rs »- o S CO "53 r~ to t> 00 00 H h o lO cots '-' a ^^ B "B s oar. >• E a ~ £ ■<.. a o ' COrH bp esjcs ,S Si - — *■* ^^ m 2 » i Oi 1Q CO a — s ^« o 3 OS Os a > s< ■—-co ^ s s •*H S 3 ^ S a^ a -a a o -25 CO O CO CO t - ' CO"— . ts IV Jo-g ooO os ^3 4s rs 3 ^CO.os°-l a ►« - 1 B ^ S §? .O & a e S o 2 «-* ^i ^ rf~. f^* GO 1 a CM .~ ■< 1 tn 3 The New English Dic- tionary. Vol. I. 1884. The Dictionary of Na- tional Biography. Vol. I. 1885. o o © 1 m t> 00 r-{ i o Cm o-j H P -< tn /. w S 1 Tennyson's Harold (1S76). Browning's Pacchiarotto (1876). Dramatic Idyls (1880). Becket; Ferishtah's Fan- cies (1884). Tiresias and Other Poems (188.">). Locksley Hall Sixty Years After (1886). Parleyings with Certain People (1887). Demeter (1889) ; Asolan- do (1890). Recent poems by Rud- yard Kipling, William Watson, and Stephen Phillips. Bagehot's Literary Studies (1S78). Arnold's Discourses in America (1885). Pater's Marius (1885). I maginary Portraits (18S7). Second Series Essays in Criticism (1888). Appreciations (1889). Ruskin's Prater ita (1887). Victoria (1837-1901). INDEX A. B. C, Chaucer's, 65. Abbotsford : Scott, 338 ; map, 465, Ca. Abellino, Zschokke's, 334. Aberdeeu : Byron, 351. Abou Ben Adhem, 369. Absalom and Achitophel, 218, 219, 250. Absentee, The, 413. AM Vogler, 437. Account of the Greatest English Poets, Addison's, 226. Adam Bede, 426. Addison, Joseph, mentioned, 223, 239, 241, 261, 267, 285, 289,369,374,395; account of, 225-237; travels, 226; The Campaign, 226, 227 ; Spectator, 232, 233 ; Sir Roger de Coverley, 233 ; Cato, 234 ; marriage, 234 ; Secretary of State, 234 ; death, 234; study, 235-237; Macau- lay's Essay on, 393. Address to the Irish People, Shelley's, 359. Addresses of the Soul to the Body, 27. Adelmorn the Outlaw, 334. Adonais, 361,365, 411. Advancement of Learning, Bacon's, 175. JEneid, translation of, 97. jEthelstan, King, 27. Age of Chaucer, The, 59-64. Aidan, the missionary, 19, 20. Alastor, 360. Albinus, 48. Alcander, Prince of Rhodes, 250. Alchemist, The, 148. Alcuin, 31, 43. Aldborough, map, 465, Eb. Alderney, map, 465, Cd. Aldwinkle : Dryden, 217 ; map, 465, Db. Aldworth : Tennyson, 450 ; map, 465, Dc. Alexander, stories of, 44. Alexander and Campaspe, Lyly's, 125. Alexander's Feast, 220. Alfred, Kino, mentioned, 6, 36, 43, 68; account of, 31-34 ; Bede, 22, 23, 34 ; Boe/hius, 33; Orosius, 33 ; Gregory, 34 ; love of learning, 32 ; Pastoral Care, 32, 33; schools, 34; The Chronicle, 34, 35. Alfred, Sayings of, 53. Alice Fell, 326. All the Year Round, 420. Allington, map, 465, Ec. Alliteration in Anglo-Saxon verse, 17 ; Layamon's Brut, 47 ; Piers the Plow- man, 55 ; euphuism, 124. Alloway Kirk, map, 465, Ba. Almanack, Cruikshank's, 431. Alphonsus King of Arragon, Greene's, 125. Alton Locke, 429. Amelia, in Vanity Fair, 424. America, Histoiy of, Robertson's, 301. American Notes, 420. Amesbury, map, 465, Dc. Amoretti, Spenser's, 105. Amourists, The, 96. Anatomy of Melancholy, The, 178. Ancren Riwle, The, 53. Angles, The, 4, 5, 36. Anglesey, map, 405, Bb. Anglia, East, 5, 6. Anglo-Norman Period, 41-81. Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 27, 34 ; descrip- tion, illustration, 35. Anglo-Saxon Period, 1-40 ; map, 7. Its limits, 6; poetry, 8-29; its form, 16, 17, 22 ; its imagery, 18, 27 ; its spirit, 17, 19, 22, 26 ; manuscripts, 26. Anglo-Saxon poetry, 8-29. Anglo-Saxon prose, 29-35. Anglo-Saxons, The, 8, 14; the hall, 8; religion, 4, 5 ; conversion, 19 ; scholar- ship, 30, 31, 32. Annals of Winchester, 27. Annan, map, 465, Ca. Anne, age of, 223-225 ; politics, 223 ; parties, 224 ; morals, 224 ; literature, 225 ; Defoe, 267. Annus Mirabilis, 218. Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, 43. Antiquary, The, 338. Appleby, map, 465, Ca. Appreciations, 411. Arbuthnot, John, 247, 257. Arcades, 184. Arcadia, The Countess of Pembroke'), 100, 266. Areopagitica, The, 186. Ariel, in The Tempest, 146. Arnold. Matthew, mentioned, 390, 432, 459 ; account of, 410, 411. Arnold of Rugby, 410. Arraignment of Paris, Peele's, 125. Arran, Island of, map, 465, Ba. Arthur, King, stories of, 44, 47 ; in Geoffrey of Monmouth, 48 ; Malory's Morte Darthur, 84 ; Faerie Queene, 104 ; Milton, 185 ; Tennyson, 449. Artificial school, The, 220, 222, 253, 254, 261, 265, 327. Ascham, Roger, mentioned, 83, 89 ; ac- count of, 92, 93. Asheetiel : Scott, 337. 406 INDEX Auolo, 435. Assembly of Birds, 68. Aslm a /.'< dux, 217. Astrophel, Spenser's, 105. Astrophel and Stella, 99, 134. At the Graif of Burns, 324. AluUinta in Calydon, 4G0. Atlielney, mop, 7, lid. Attkkbury, Francis, 257. Aut'liinleck, map, 465, Ba. Augustan age of English prose, 222-248 ; characteristics, 223. Augustine, the Apostle to the Saxons, 19. Aurora Leigh, 437. Austen, Jane, account of, 413-415. Autobiographic Sketches, De Quincey's, 378, 383. Avon (ashes of Wyclif), 57. Avon River, map, 465, Cb. A ;/' nhit, Inwyt, 54. Ayr, map, 465, Ba. Bachelor's Complaint, A, 374. Bacon, Francis, mentioned, 101, 105, 108, 134, 139, 178 ; account of, 170-178 ; early life, 171 ; Essex, 171, 172; essays, 171, 174, 176; honors, 172; Novum Organum, 172, 175; disgrace, 173; closing years, 174; death. 174: induc- tive system, 174 ; study, 17(1-178 ; Ma- caulay's Essay on, 392, 393, 431. Badman, Mr., Bunyan's, 210. Bale, John, 118. Ballad upon a Wedding, Suckling's, 204. Ballads, The, 47 ; of the fifteenth cen- tury, 88. Banbury, map, 465, Db. Bangor, map, 465, Bb. Barchester Towers, 428. Bard, The, 306. Bard's Epitaph, A, 312. Barnaby Budge, 420. Barnstaple, map, 465, Be. Barrett, Elizabeth, 436. Barry Lyndon, 423. Bath : Jane Austen, 414 ; map, 465, Cc. Battle Abbey, map, 465, Ec. Battle narratives in verse, 27, 28. Battle of Alcazar, Peele's, 125. Battle of Brunnanburh, 27 ; quoted, 28; mentioned, 35. Battle of the Books, 240, 241. Baxter, Richard, 214. Bea'-ousfichl. map, 11'..", Dr. Beaumont, Francis, 150. Beeket, 449. 457. Beckford, William, 333. Becky Sharp, in Vanity Fair, 424. Bede, mentioned, 20,21, 22, 43, 48 ; ac- count of, 29 31 ; *'■ anion. 22, 23 ; works, 30 ; scholarship, 30, 31 ; Al- fred'fl translation. '.'A. Bede, Adam, in Adam Bede, 426, 1-7. Bedford: Banyan, 207, 209, 210 ; Butler, 221 : map, 466, Db. Bee, The. ttda, 413. Bell, Currer, pen-name of Charlotte Bronte, 425. B( Us and Pomegranates, 436. Bemerton, map, 465, Dc. Bt owulf, mentioned, 5, 28, 36 ; quotation, 8, 9, 16, 18; the poem, 10-14; inter- pretation, 14, 16 ; facsimile of manu- script, 15; manuscript described, 16, mentioned, 20. Beowulf, the hero, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16. Berwick-upon-Tweed, map, 465, Ca. Besant, Walter, quoted, 420. Betrothal, The, 339. Bevis of Hampton, 44. Bible, the English, Wyclif, 56, 58 ; Tyn- dale, 90 ; Coverdale, 90 ; Cranmer, 91 ; Geneva, 91; King James, 91 ; influence on Bunyan, 212 ; on Ruskin, 403. Bickerstaff, 241, 242. Bideford, map, 465, Be. Bilton, map, 465, Db. Binfield : Pope, 250 ; map, 465, Dc. Biographia Literaria, 323. Birkenhead, map, 465, Cb. Birmingham, map, 465, Db. Black Dwarf, The, 338. Blackwood's Magazine, 366, 367, 381,383, 384, 387, 416, 426. Blair, Robert, 304. Blank verse, Surrey's JEneid, 94 ; in Gorboduc, 116, 306. /;/, „i- House, 420, 422. Blessed Damozel, The, 459. Blot in the 'Snitrheon, A, 436. Blyth, map, 465, Da. Boccaccio, 59, 67, 68, 71. Boethins, Alfred's translation, 33, 68 ; Chaucer's translation, 67. Boileau, Nicolas, 216, 252. Bolingbroke, Lord (Henry St. John), mentioned, 256, 259, 301. Book of Martyrs, Fox's, 108. Book of Snobs, The, 423. Boston, map, 465, Db. Boswell, James, 284 ; acquaintance with Johnson. 287, 288, 289, 290, 296. Bosworth Field, map, It'.", Db. Bournemouth, map, 465, Dc. Bowge of Gourte, The, 87. "Boz," pen-name of Dickens, 419. Bradford, map, 465, Db. Braich-y-Pwll, map, 465, Bb. Brantwood : Ruskin, 408; ma/i, 465, C Bravo of Venice, The, 334. Brecon, map, 465, Cc. Bride of Abydos, The. 338, Bride of Lammermoor, The, 338. Bridgewater, nm/i, 465, Cc. Brighton, map, 465, Dc. Brigs of Ayr, Tin , 311. Bristol: Langland, 56 ; Defoe, 270; Bouthey, 332; map, 465, Cc. Britain and the KiurliBh. 2-7 ; the Ro- mans, 2 ; the Teutons, 3. Britons, The, 2, 1. 49. BrontK, Charlotte, 425. Browns, Sir Thomas. 17*. Browning, Robert, mentioned, 389, 390, INDEX 467 432, 442, 449, 459 ; quoted, 141 ; ac- count of, 432-442 ; parentage, child- hood, 432; education, 433 ; the definite plan of work, 433; Pauline, Paracel- sus, 434 ; Strafford, Sordello, Pippa Passes, 435 ; Bells and Pomegranates, 436 ; Elizabeth Barrett, 436, 437 ; Italy, 437 ; The Ring and the Book, 437, 438 ; philosophy, death, 438 ; study, 438-442. Browning, Sharpe's Life of, 433. Brunnanburh, Battle of, 27 ; quoted, 28 ; mentioned, 35. Brunne, map, 465, Db. Brunne, Robert Manning of, 49, 54. Brut, Layamon's, 47, 48, 49 ; Wace's, 48, 49. Brutus, in Julius Ccesar, 144. Buckhurst, map, 465, Dc. Buckingham, map, 465, Dc. Budleigh, map, 465, Cc. Bulwer, Edward (Lord Lytton), 415, 416, 431. Bunyan, John, 206-214 ; early life, 207 ; a soldier, 207 ; marriage, 207, 208 ; re- ligious experience, 208 ; Bedford Jail, 209, 210 ; sermons, 210 ; Pilgrim's Progress, 210, 211-214 ; later life, 210 ; death, 211 ; title - page of Pilgrim?* Progress, 213; mentioned, 221, 244, 267, 270. Bdrke, Edmund, mentioned, 2, 223, 238, 289, 290, 296 ; account of, 301-303. Burne-Jones, Edward, 404. Burney, Frances, 291, 413. Bitrns, Robert, mentioned, 86, 265, 316, 317, 324, 325, 369, 396, 399 ; account of, 310-314; folk-songs, 310; ploughman- poet, 311, 312 ; The Cotter's Saturday Night,Z\\ ; Edinburgh, 311; marriage, 312 ; death, 312 ; appreciation, 312, 313 ; study, 313, 314. Burns, Life of, 387. Burton, Robert, 178, 374. Bury St. Edmunds, map, 465, Eb. Busirus, Young's, 264. Busy Body, The, 295. Bute, map, 465, Ba. Butler, Samuel, 221, 246. Byrhtnoth, in Battle of Maldon, 28. Byron, Lord, mentioned, 338, 357, 358, 361, 362, 365, 368, 387, 388, 392, 403, 431, 433, 443, 444 ; account of, 350-357; ancestry, 351 ; mother's character, 351; Harrow and Cambridge, 351 , 352 ; Hours of Idleness, 352 ; cynicism, 352 ; House of Lords, 352 ; English Bards, 352; travels, 353 ; metrical romances, 353, 354 ; marriage, 354 ; in Italy, 354 ; Don Juan, 355 ; the Greek Revolution, 355 ; death, 355 ; study, 355-357. Byron, Macaulay's Essay on, 393. C«dmon, mentioned, 18, 36, 47 ; account of, 21-23 ; his vision, 21 ; his hymn, 22 ; works, 22, 23 ; Genesis, Exodus, 23. Caerleon, map, 465, Cc. Caermarthen, map, 465, Be. Caernarvon, map, 465, Bb. Caesar, Julius, 2. Ccesars, The, 383. Cain, 354. Caleb Williams, 334. Cam River, map, 465, Eb. Cambridge, map, 7, Dc ; 465, Eb. Camelford, map, 465, Be. Campaign, The, 226, 227. Can you Forgive her, 429. Canterbury : the scene of Chaucer's pil- grimage, 71 ; birthplace of Marlowe, 126 ; map, 7, Dd ; 465, Ec. Canterbury Tales, The, mentioned, 59, 68, 70, 114, 260, 266; described, 71, 72; Caxton's edition, 84; facsimile of Caxton's page, 85 ; paraphrased by Dryden, 220. Captain Singleton, 272. Cardiff, map, 465, Cc. Cardigan, map, 465, Bb. Carew, Thomas, 203 ; quoted, 204. Carisbrooke, map, 465, Dc. Carlisle, map, 465, Ca. Carlyle, Jane Welsh, 397, 400. Carlyle, Thomas, mentioned, 2, 390, 402, 404, 410 ; quoted, 3S9, 431 ; account of, 396-402 ; parentage, 396 ; student life, 396, 397 ; years of struggle, 397 ; mar- riage, 397 ; Sartor Resartus, 398 ; lec- turer and historian, 399 ; essayist and biographer, 400 ; death, 400 ; the teacher, 400 ; study, 401, 402. Caroline Poets, The, 203. Casa Guidi Windoivs, 437. Cassius, in Julius Casar, 144. Castaway, The, 309, 310. Castle of Indolence, The, 265. Castle of Otranto, The, 333. Castle of Perseverance, 112. Castle Rackrent, 413. Castle Spectre, The, 334. Castletown, Isle of Man, map, 465, Ba. Catiline, 148. Cato, Addison's, 234. Cavalier Poets, The, 203. Caxton, William, account of, 84 ; fac- simile of his page, 85. Caxlons, The, 416. Celtic words in English, 36. Celts, The, 2, 3, 6, 49. Cenci, The, 361. Cervantes, 403. Chalfont St. Giles, map, 465, Dc. Chansons de Gesles, 43. Chapman, George, 151, 366. Charlemagne, stories of, 43, 44. Charles V., Robertson's, 301. Chartism, 400. Chatterton, Thomas, 307, 366. Chaucer, Geoffrey, mentioned, 42, 54, 56, 58, 59, 83, 86, 92, 102, 106, 113, 130, 225, 266, 325, 366, 459 ; age of, 59-64 ; society, 60 ; evils of the time, 62 ; Lon- don, 63, 64; The Tabard Inn, 64; ac- count of, 64-75; youth, 64, 65; early works, 65, 66 ; Italian tours, 66, 67 ; Troilus and Criseyde, 68 ; allegories. 4G8 INDEX 68, CO ; later works, GO, 70 ; The Can- terbury Tales, 71, 72; death, 72; ap- preciation, 72-75 ; nature poetry, 71! ; inllueuce upon language, 74 ; study, 76 ; paraphrased by Dryden, 220. Chelmsford, map, 465, Ec. CheUea : Carlyle, 390. Chertsey, map, 465, Dc. Chester : a Roman town, 3 ; miracle plays, 111 ; map, 7, Be ; 465, Cb. Chevy Chase, 88. Chichester, map, 465, Dc. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, 338, 353, 354. Child's History of England, The, 420. Chinese Letters, The, 205. Chretien de Troyee, 47. Christ, The, of Cynewulf, 24, 25, 27 ; quoted, 25. Christabel, 323. Christian, in Pilgrim's Progress, 267. Christian Hero, Steele's, 227. Christianity in Britain, 10 ; influence on early English poetry, 20. Christmas Tales, The, 420. Christ's Hospital Five-and-Thirty Years Ago, 374. Chronicle, Anglo-Saxon, 27, 34, 35, 47. Chronicle, Robert of Gloucester's, 40 ; Robert Manning's, 40. Chronicle of Edward I., Peele's, 125. Chronicles, Holinshed's, 117. Chronicles, Middle English, 47. Church, The, in Britain, 3 ; conversion of the Saxons, 10. Church History, Fuller's, 57, 214. Church Porch, The, Herbert's, 200. Churchyard poetry, 304. Cibber, Colley, The. Dunciad, 258. Citizen of the World, The, 205. Clarissa Harlowe, 275. Clarke, Charles Cowden, 365, 306. Cleobury Mortimer, map, 465, Cb. Clevedon, Coleridge, 310 ; map, 165, Co. ('lire, Macaulay's Essay on, 303. Cloister and the Hearth, The, 416, 429. Clouoh, Arthur Hugh, 411, 459. Clovelly, map, 465, Be. Club, The, in The Spectator, 233, 235. Club, The Literary, 280, 296. Clyde River, 2 ; map, 465, Ba. Cock and the Fax, The, Dryden's, 220. Cockermouth : Wordsworth, 317 ; map, 465 Ca Coffee-Houses, 220, 229, 230, 231, 239, 243. Colchester, map, 7, Dd. Coleridoe, S. T. , mentioned, 214, 316, 317, 332, 333, 369, 370, 371, 373, 381, 383, 397, 408, 431 ; account of, 319 324 ; childhood, 310; radical Ideas, Pantis- ocracy, 319; lyrical ballads, 320 ; Ger- many, 320; Christabel, Kubla Khan, 323 ; prose, 323 ; death, 324. Colet, John, 83. Colin Clout, Sanger's, 101 Collins, William, 304. Cotombt t Birthday, 436. Colonel Jacqve, 272. Columba, the Irish nimsionary, 20. Colyn Clout, Skelton's, 87. Comedy, The first, 1 15. ( 'timing of Arthur, The, 449. Commonwealth, The, 181. Compleat Angler, The, 215. Comjtleynt to his Purs, Chaucer's, 72. ( 'iimpleynte to Pile, 65. Comus, 184. Conduct of the Allies, The, 242. Confessio A mantis, 59. Congreve, William, 238, 239. Coniston, Lake : Ruskin, 408. Cont/uest of Granada, Dryden's, 218. Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster, The, 118. Conversion of the Saxons, 19 ; in Words- worth's sonnets, 19. Cooper's Hill, map, 465, Dc. Corinna, Herrick's, 205. Cornhill Magazine, The, 426. Corsair, The, 353, 354. ' 'otter's Saturday Night, The, 311. Count Julian, 388. Couplet, The, 206, 220, 249, 306, 352. Covenant, The, 181. Coventry : miracle plays, 111; mysteries, 111, 117; Shakespeare, 131 ; map, 465, Db. Coverdale, Miles, Bishop of Exeter, 00, 01. Cowley, Abraham, 203. Cowper, William, mentioned, 316, 317, 358; account of, 307-310; timidity, 308 ; the Olney hymns, 308 ; John Oil- pin, 308 ; The Task, 300. Coxwold, map, 465, Da. Craigenputtoch : Carlyle, 397 ; map, 4C5, Ca. Cranford, 125. Cranmer's Bible, 91. Crashaw, Richard, 201,202. Crawley, Rawdon, in Vanity Fair, 424. Critical Review, The, 205. Criticism, 216. Criticism, Essay on (Pope's), 253; Essays in, 410; The Function of, 410. Cromwell's Letters ami Speeches, 400, Cromwell, in Carlyle'e Heroes, 399. Cross, Wilbur I... quoted, 413. ' 'rossnm the /lor. 450. Crown of Wild Olive, The, 406. Culture and A narchy, 111. Cura Pastoralis, 33,34. Currer Bell, pen-name of Charlotte Bronti ; , 426. Curse of Kehama, The, 332. Cursor Mundi, 54. Cymbeline, in Geoffrey of Monmouth, 48. Cymri, The, 2 ; Cymric words in Eng- lish. 36. Cynewulf, account of, 23-26 ; works, 24, 25, 26; runes, 24; quoted, 20, 21 ; Ju- dith, 29 ; mentioned, M, 49. Cynthia's Levels, 148. INDEX 469 Daily Courant, The, 228. Danelagh, The, 37. Danes, The, 6, 12, 13, 27 ; wars of Alfred, 31, 32, 35, 36 ; Hrothgar, in Beowulf, 11, 43 ; Orm, 53. Daniel Deronda, 427. Dante, 67, 82, 96, 399. D'Arblay, Madame, Macaulay's Essay on, 393. Dartmoor, map, 465, Cc. Dartmouth, map, 465, Cc. Darwin, Charles Robert, 442, 443. David Balfour, 430. David Copperfield, 417, 420. David Copperfield, in David Copperfield, 419. DavideU, Cowley's, 203. De Augmentis Scientiarum, 175. De Consolatione Philosophise, Alfred's translation, 33, 68 ; Chaucer's transla- tion, 67. Dean, Forest of, map, 465, Cc. Dean Prior, map, 465, Cc. Death in the Desert, A, 437. Death of Hoel, The, 306. Death of the Duke of Wellington, Ode on the, 448. Decameron, The, 59, 71. Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 300. Decline of the stage, 151. Defence of Guinevere, The, 459. Defence of Poesy, 99. Defence of Poetry, Shelley's, 361. Defensio Secunda, Milton's, 186, 187. Defoe, Dandm., mentioned, 228, 229, 274, 275, 420 ; account of, 267-273 ; educa- tion, 268 ; The Review, 268 ; facsimile of frontispiece, 269 ; Robinson Crusoe, 270 ; realism, 271 ; narratives, 271, 272 ; rogue narratives, 272 ; misfortunes, 273 ; death, 273 ; the " novel," 273. Dkkkbr, Thomas, 151. Demeter and Other Poems, 450. Denbigh, map, 465, Cb. Denmark, Mallet's History of, 307. Deor's Lament, 10, 27. Deptford, map, 465, Ec. De Qcfncey, Thomas, mentioned, 2, 3C9, 388, 395, 397, 431 ; account of, 376-386 ; characteristics, 377 ; childhood, 378 ; imagination, 37S ; effect of sister's death, 379 ; experience in London, 380 ; friendships, 381 ; marriage, 381 ; the opium-eater, 381, 382 ; the Confes- sions, 382 ; magazine articles, 383 , death, 384 ; study, 385, 386. Derby, map, 465, Db. Derwent, The (Wordsworth), 317. Derwent Water, map, 465, Ca. Descent of Man, 443. Descent of Odin, The, 306. Descriptive Sketches, 319. Desdemona, in Othello, 144. Deserted House, The, 444. Deserted Village, The, 293, 296. Dethe of Blaunche the Duchesse, 66. Deucalion, 406. Development of the English Novel, Cross's, 413. Diaries, of Pepys and Evelyn, 215. Dickens, Charles, mentioned, 389, 390, 423, 428, 429,431 ; account of, 417-422; childhood, 417; early struggles, 418; first contribution, 419 ; the novels, 420; characteristics, 421 ; philanthropic pur- pose, 421; position, 422. Dictes and Sayitigs of the Philosophers, 84. Dictionary, Johnson's, 281, 285, 286, Discourses in America, 411. Discovery of Guiana, Raleigh's, 101. Disraeli, Benjamin (Lord Beacousfield), 416. Dissertation on Roast Pig, A, 374. Divine Comedy, Dante's, 67. Divine Emblems, Quarles's, 201. Do Wei, Do Bet, Do Best, 56. Dobbin, in Vanity Fair, 424. Doings of the Senate of IAlliput, 284. Dolgelly, map, 465, Cb. Dombey and Son, 420, 422. Dombey, Paul, in Dombey and Son, 419, 422. Domett, Alfred, 433. Don Juan, 353, 355. Don Quixote, 270. Doncaster, a Roman town, 3. Donne, John, 200. Dorchester, map, 465, Cc. Douglas, Gavin, 86. Douglas, Isle of Man, map, 465, Ba. Dover, map, 465, Ec. Drama, The, development, 108-129 ; re- ligious rites, 109 ; miracle plays or mysteries, 110; pageants, 110; Ches- ter, York, Towneley, Coventry, 111; realistic portrayal of character, 111; typical characters, 111 ; moralities, 112 ; Skelton's Necromancer, 113 ; in- terludes of John Heywood, 113-115; Four P.'s, 113-115 ; comedy, 115; Udall's Ralph Roister Doister, 115 ; influence of Latiu dramatists, 115, 116 ; tragedy, 116 ; Morton and Sackville's Gorboduc, 116 ; historical plays, 117, 118 ; theatres, 119-121 ; companies, 121 ; Shakespeare's predecessors, 122 ; Lyly, 122-125 ; Swan Theatre, interior of, 123 ; euphuism, 124, 125 ; Peele, Kyd, Greene. Nash, Lodge, 125, 126 ; Marlowe, 126-128 ; study, 128, 129 ; de- cline of drama, 176 ; the restoration, 217, 218. Dramatic Literature of the Age of Eliza- beth, 386. Dramatic Lyrics, 436. Dramatic Romances and Lyrics, 436. Dramatists, lesser, 151. Drapier Letters, The, 244. Drayton, Michael, quoted, 130. Dream of Fair Women, A, 445. Dream of the. Rood, of Cynewulf, 24, 27. Druids, The, 19. Dry burgh Abbey, map, 465, Ca. 470 INDEX Deydbn, John, mentioned, 150, 200, 215, 230,246, 249, 250, 257, 258, 260, 304; influenced by Waller, 206 ; age of, 215, 216; plays, 217, 218; account of, 217 220; Astrwa Redux, 217; Annus Mira- bilis, 218; Absalom and Achitophel, 218; The Medal, 219; McFlecknoe, 219 ; Religio Laid, 219 ; Hind and Panther, 219 ; laureate, 219 ; transla- tions and paraphrases, 220 ; minor poems, 220 ; authority, 220 ; rhymed couplet, 220 ; prose, 220 ; Lowell, 220 ; death, 221 ; influence, 222 ; edited by Scott, 337. Dryden, Macaulay's Essay on, 393. Dublin: Steele, 227; Swift, 238; Burke, 301 ; Moore, 368 ; map, 465, Ab. Dulwich, map, 465, Dc. Dumfries, map, 465, Ca. Dunbar, William, 86. Dunciad, The, 257. Dunwich, map, 465, Eb. Durham, burial-place of Bede, 29 ; map, 465, Da. Earnley, home of Layamon, 47. Earthly Paradise, The, 459. Ecclefechan: Carlyle, 396; map, 465, Ca. Ecclesiastes, paraphrase of, 97. Eaclesiastical History, 21 ; account of Csedmon, 22, 23 ; Alfred's translation, 34. Ecclesiastical Polity, Hooker's, 108. Ecclesiastical Sonnets, The, of Words- worth, 19. Edgeworth, Maria, account of, 413. Edinburgh : Hume, 299 ; Scott, 334 ; De Quincey, 383 ; Carlyle, 397 ; map, 7, Bb;465, Ca. Edinburgh Review, 387, 391, 393, 431, 444. Edmonton : Keats, 365 ; Lamb, 375. Ednam, map, 465, Ca. Edward II., 126, 127. Edward V., Life of, 89. Egbert, Archbishop of York, 31. Egdon Heath, map, 465, Cc. Eighteenth century, The, 222. Eikon Rasilike, 187. Eikonoklastes, 186, 187. Elaine, 449. Elegy, Gray's, 304, 305. Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate I.udy, Pope's, 264. Elene, of Cynewulf, 24, 25, 27 ; quoted, Elia, Essays of, 374, 375 ; Last Essays of, 375. Eliot, George (Mary Ann Evans), men- tioned, 425, 431 ; account of, 426-428 ; early life, introduction to literature, 426 ; novels, 427 ; philosophy, 428 ; rank, 428. Elizabethan ^oge, The, 89, 216, 266, 304, 369, 373, 374, 429 ; representative prose and verse of, 98-108 ; development of the drama, 108-129; Shakespeare and his successors, 129-168 ; spirit of the age, 132-134. Elizabethans, the last of, 170-178 ; char- acteristics of, 170 ; later, 179. Ellis, Havelock, 389. Ellisland : Bums, 312. Eloise to Abelard, 254. Elstow : Bunyan, 206; map, 465, Db. Elvington, map, 465, Db. Ely : established, 20 ; map, 465, Eb. Emblems, Wither's, 202. Emma, 415. Endimion, Lyly's, 125. Endymion, 366, 368. Enfield : Keats, 365. England, Chaucer's, 60; society in Chau- cer's time, 60-63. England, Hume's History of, 299 ; Ma- caulay's, 393, 394, 395. England and the English, 6 ; principal divisions under the Teutons, 6; the nation and the language, 35-37 ; Eng- lish officially recognized by the Nor- mans, 42, 74 ; Layamon's Brut, 49. English, applied to language and litera- ture, 36. English and Scottish Ballads, 88. English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, 352, 354. English Comic Writers, Hazlitt's, 386. English Humorists, The, 425. English Mail Coach, The, 384. English Opium-Eater, The, 377-386. English Poets, Hazlitt's, 386. English prose, Augustan age of, 222-248; characteristics, 223. Englishman, The, 235, 270. En id, 449. Ensham, seat of iElfric, 34. Epic fragments, 28. Epicame, 148. Epipsychidion, 361 . Epistle of Eloise to Abelard, 254. Epistle of Karshish, Alt, 437. Epistles, Pope's, 247. Epitaph on Shakespeare, Milton's, 183. Epilhiiluinion, Spenser's, 105. Erasmus, 83. Emley, map, 465, Cb. Essay, The, 223, 225. Essay on Criticism, The, 252, 253. Essay on Man, The, 259, 260. Essayists, the great, 389. Essays, Bacon's, 105, 171, 174, 176. Essays, Pope's, 249, 252, 259. Essays in Criticism (first and second se- ries), 410. Essays of Elia, 374, 375 ; Last, 375. Essenes, The, 383. Bthaadum, map, 7, Bd. Ethics of the Dust, 406. Eton, map, 465, Dc. Ettrick. mini, 466, Ca. Euganiun Hills, Lines on the, 361. Eugene Aram, 415. Euphues, Lyly's, 100, 124, 125. Euphuism, i24, 125, 134. Euripides, 380. INDEX 471 Evans, Mary Ann (George Eliot), 42C, 431. Eve of St. Agnes, The, 367. Eve of St. John, The, 337. Evelina, 291 . Evelyn, John, 215. Eversley, map, 465, Dc. Every Man in his Humour, 136, 147. Every Man out of his Humour, 148. Everyman, 112. Examiner, The, Leigh Hunt's, 366, 369. Examiner, The, Swift's, 242. Excursion, The, 320, 327 ; described, 322. Exeter : seat of Bishop Leofric, 9, 26 ; Miles Coverdale, 90 ; map, 7, Bd ; 465, Cc. Exeter Book, The, 9, 26, 27. Exodus, Csedinon's, 23. Expostulation and Reply, 320. Faerie Queene, The, mentioned, 101, 105, 134 ; described, 104 ; study, 106, 107 ; influence upon Keats, 365. Falmouth, map, 465, Be. Falstaff, in King Henry IV, 138, 144. Famous Victories of Henry V., The, 118. Fame Islands, map, 465, Da. Farringford : Tennyson, 450 ; map, 465, Dc. Fatal Sisters, The, 306. Fates of the Apostles, Cynewulf's, 4, 27. Faustus, Tragical History of Doctor, 126. Felix Holt, 427. Ferdinand, Count Fathom, 278. Field Place : Shelley, 357. Fielding, Henry, mentioned, 265, 278, 414, 423 ; account of, 276-278 ; Joseph Andrews, 276 ; Tom Jones, 277 ; Ame- lia, 111. Fifteenth century, The, 82-88. Fight at Finnesburg, The, 28. Fight at Maldon, 28, 35. Fingal, Macpherson's, 307. Finn, in the epic, 28. Finnesburg, Trie Fight at, 28. Firth of Forth, 2. FitzGerald, Edward, 459. Flamborough Head, map, 465, Da. Fie fro the Pres,10. Fletcher, John, 150. Flodden Field, map, 465, Da. Fool, in King Lear, 144. Fool, in Twelfth Night, 144. Ford, John, 151. Foresters, The, 449. Fors Clavigera, 402, 405; definition, 405. Forster, John, 389. Fortunes of Nigel, The, 339. Four Elements, The, 112. Four Georges, The, 425. FourP:s, Hey wood's, 113-115. Fox, John, 108. Fra Lippo Lippi, 437. Fragments of Ancient Poetry, Macpher- son's, 307. Framley Parsonage, 429. Franceschini, Count Guido, in The Ring and the Book, 437, 438. Francis of Assisi, 110. Fraser's Magazine, 398, 431. Frederick the Great, Macautey'B Essay on, 393 ; Carlyle's Life and Times of, 400. French influence, period of, 216, 222, 246, 252. French Revolution, Carlyle's History of the, 400, 431. Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, Greene's, 125. Friars, The, 55, 56 ; Wyclif 's objections to, 56 ; in Chaucer's time, 62. Friend, The, 323. Fuller, Thomas, quoted, 57, 149 ; ac- count of, 214, 215. Function of Criticism, The, 410. Gadshill, map, 465, Ec. Galahad, Sir, 449. Galatea, Lyly's, 125. Gareth and Lynetie, 449. Garrick, David, 283, 289, 296. Gaskell, Elizabeth, 425. Gay, John, 247, 257 ; account of, 264. Gebir, 388. Genesis, C;iedmon's, 23. Genesis and Exodus, Caedmon's, 23. Genesis and Exodus, the later, 54. Geneva Bible, The, 91. Genius and Character of Hogarth, The, 374. Gentleman' 's Magazine, The, 284. Geoffrey of Monmouth, 48, 50. Geographical names, 36. George-a-Greene, Greene's, 125, 126. Germans, The, 3, 4, 6. Gesta Romanorum. 46. Giaour, The, 338, 353, 354. Gibbon, Edward, mentioned, 2, 223, 301; account of, 299-301 . GilfiVs Love Story, Mr., 426. Glasgow, map, 405, Ba. Glastonbury, map, 465, Cc. Gleeman, The, 8, 9, 18, 27, 35, 44. Globe Theatre, The, 119, 122, 139. Gloucester, map, 1, Bd; 465, Cc. Griomic Verses, quoted, 27. God moves in a mysterious way, 308. Godwin, Mary (Mrs. Shelley), 360. Godwin, William, 334, 360. Goethe, 334, 337. Goetz von Berlichingen, translated by Scott, 337. Golden Targe, The, 86. Goldsmith, Oliver, mentioned, 238, 279, 280, 289, 306, 395 ; account of, 292-299; school days, 293; benevolence, 293; ir- responsibility, 294 ; wanderings, 294, 295; Grub Street, 295; works, 296; death, 297; study, 297-299. Good Natured Man, The, 296. Goodrich Castle, map, 465, Cc. Gorboduc, 116, 357. Gorboduc, in Geoffrey of Monmouth's History, 48. 472 INDEX Goring Castle : Shelley, 357. Gothic romance, 333, 334. Gowkr, John, mentioned, 54, C9, 80; ac- count of, 58-59 ; printed by Caxton, 84. Grace Abounding, 210. Grail, The Holy, 449. Graamere : Wordsworth, 321 ; De Quin- cey, 381 ; map, 405, Ca. Grave, T/ie, Blair's, 204, 304. Gray, Thomas, mentioned, 220, 307, 310, 333; account of, 304-30G. Great Bible, TV, 91. Great Expectations, 420. Great Grimsby, map, 4G5, Db. Great Hoggarty Diamond, The, 423. Great Marlow, map, 405, Dc. Great Place, Of, Bacon's, 173. Great Yarmouth, map, 405, Eb. Greek Studies, Pater's, 412. Greene, Robert, 125, 120, 134 ; attack of Shakespeare, 137. Greenock, map, 405, Ba. Greenwich, map, 405, Dc. Gregory, Pope, his Pastoral Care, 32, 34. Grendel, in Beowidf, 11-14, 10 ; Gren- del's mother, 12-14. Gretna Green, map, 405, Ca. Groatsworlh of Wit, Greene's, 137. Grocyn, William, 83. Guernsey, map, 405, Cd. Guido Franceschiui, Count, in The. Ring and the Book, 437, 438. Guildford, map, 405, Dc. Guinevere, 448, 449. Gulliver's Travels, 244-247, 257. Gutenberg, John, 83. Guy Mannering, 338. Guy of Warwick, 44. Halifax, map, 405, Db. Hall, Edward, 117, 143. Hallam, Arthur Henry, 447. Hallelujah, Wither's, 202. Hamlet, 144, 140. Hampole, map, 405, Db. Hampole, Richard Holle of, 54. Handlyng Synne, 54. Hard Ca*A, 429. Hard Times, 420. Hardieamile, 335. Harold, Bulwer's, 415 ; Tennyson's, 449. Harrow, map, 405, lie. Hart-Leap Well, 326. Hartlepool, map, 466, Da. Harwich, map, 165, Bo. HastiiK/s, Warren, Macaulay's Essay on, 393. ' Hastings, map, 7, Dd ; 405, Ec. Haunted anil the Haunters, The, 410. Hueeluck the J lane, 45. Hawanicn, map, 466, Cb. Hawks, 8tephen, 87. Hawkeshead : Wordsworth, 317; map, 4<; r ., Ca. Hawortli, map, 166, Db. Hawtuoruden, map, 466, Ca. Hazlitt, William, quoted, 254 ; men- tioned, 300 ; account of, 380. Healfdene, in lieowulf, 8. Heart of Midlothian, The, 338. Helvellyii, Mount, map, 405, Ca. Hengest, 4, 0, 19. Henry Esmond, 416. 424, 425. Heorot, the hall in Beowulf, 11, 12, 16. Herbert, George, 200, 202. Hereford, map, 405, Cb. Hereward the Saxon, 44. Hereward the Wake, 429. Heroes, Hero Worship, and the Heroic i>. History, 399. Heroic couplet, 249. Herrick, Robert, 205, 206. Hertford, map, 465, Dc. Hesperides, Herrick's, 206. Hetty, in Adam Bede, 420. Heywood, John, 113-115. Heywood, Thomas, 151. Hick Scorner, 112. High is our Calling, Friend (To B. R. Haydon), 324. Hilda, AbbeS3 of Whitby, 20; Credinon, 21, 22. Hind and the Panther, The, 219. Eipswell, map, 7, Cb; 465, Da. Hit Being Arrived at the Age of Twenty - //n,e, On, Milton's, 183. Hisloria Ecclesiastica, 21 ; Alfred'* translation, 34 ; account of Caadmon, 22, 23. Hisloria Regum Britannia;, 48. Historical plays, 117, 118. History of England, Hume's, 299; Ma- caulay's, 393,' 394, 395. History of the Caliph Vathek, 333. History of the Kings of Britain, 48. History of the Scottish Reformation, Knox's, 108. History of the World, Raleigh's, 101. Hitchin, inaji, 405, Dc. Hobbes, Thomas, 215. Hogarth, Genius and Character of, 374. Hogg, James, 384. H.niNsHP.D, Raphael, 117, 143. Holy < 'i/i/, The, Bunyan's, 210. //«/,/ lining, Puller's, 214. Holy lirnil, The, 47, 449. Holy Island, map, 405, Bb. //c/// hiving, Fuller's, 214. Holy War, The, 207, 21(1. Holyhead, map, 405, Bb. Homer : Chapman's, 300 ; Dryden's, 220 ; Pope's, 255, 250 ; influence upon Pope, 250 ; Keats, 300 ; Ruskin, 403 ; Brown- ing, 133 ; mentioned, 437. I /inner. On First Looking into Chap- man's, HOC. Hooker, Richard, 108. Horace, read by Prior, 264. Horaa, 4, 0, 19. Horsham, map, 405, Dc. Horton : Milton, 183 ; map, 405, Dc. Hours of Idleness, 362, Horn of Fame, The, 68, G9. House, Browning's, 141. INDEX 473 House of Life, The, 459. House of the Wolfings, The., 459. How to Use the Court, 95. Howard, Henry, Earl of Surrey, men- tioned, 89, 94, 98, 99; account of, 97, 98. Hrothgar, in Beowulf, 8, 11, 12, 13, 16, 29. Hudibrus, 207, 221. Hull, map, 465, Db. Human Understanding, Locke's Essay Concerning, 216. Humber River, map. 465, Dc. Hume, David, mentioned, 2, 223, 301 ; account of, 299. Humphrey Clinker, 278. Hunt, Holman, 404. Hunt, Leigh, mentioned, 361, 362, 366, 368, 399 ; account of, 369. Huntingdon, map, 465, Db. Hursley, map, 465, De. Huxley, Thomas Henry, 442. Hygelac, in Beowulf, 11, 13, 14. Hymn to Intellectual Beauty, 358. Hymns and Songs of the Church, With- ers, 202. Hypaiia, 416, 429. Hyperion, 367. Iago, in Othello, 144. Idiot Boy, The, 320. Idler, The, 281, 285. Idylls of the King, 449. II Filoslraio, 68. II Penseroso, 184, 192,305. Mad, Pope's, 255. Imaginary Conversations, 388, 389, 411. Imaginary Portraits, 411. In Memoriam, 447, 448. Indian Emperor, Dryden's, 218. Indian Penal Code and Code of Crimi- nal Procedure, Macaulay's, 392. Inductive system, The, 174. Interludes, 113-115. Ipswich, map, 465, Eb. Irish Melodies, 368. Irish Sketch Book, The, 423. Irish tales, Miss Edgeworth's, 413. Is therefor Honest Poverty, 314. Isabella, 367. Isle of Wight : Tennyson, 450. It is Never too Late to Mend, 429. Italian romance, 266. Italy, Rogers's, 403. Ivanhoe, 336, 339 ; study of, 341-349. Jack Wilton, Life of, Nash's, 126. James I. of Scotlaud, 86 ; mentioned, 351. James Zee's Wife, 437. Jane Eyre, 425. Janet's Repentance, 426. Jarrow : established, 20 ; Bede, 30; rav- aged by the Danes, 3t ; map, 7, Cb ; 465, Da. Jeames' Diary, 423. Jeffrey, Francis, mentioned, 352, 388, 392 ; account of, 387. Jersey, map, 465, Cd. Jew of Malta, The, 126. Joan of Arc, De Quincey's, 384 ; South- ey's, 332. John Gilpin, 308. John Woodvil, 373. Johnson, Boswell's Life of, 288 ; Macau- lay's Essay on, 393. Johnson, Samuel, mentioned, 223, 261, 292, 293, 296, 299, 301, 306, 395, 399 ; quoted, 270 ; account of, 281-292; child- hood, 281 ; early struggles, 282 ; mar- riage, 282 ; hack-writer, 283 ; parlia- mentary reports, 284 ; Rambler, Idler, 285 ; The Dictionary, 286 ; Rasselas, 287 ; Bos well, 287, 288 ; the Club, 289 ; Lives of the Poets, 289 ; death, 290 ; personality, 290 ; study, 291. Jonathan Wild, Fielding's, 423. Jonson, Ben, mentioned, 105, 108, 130, 134, 136, 142, 170, 179 ; account of, 147- 150 ; education, 147 ; masques, 148 ; Jonson and Shakespeare, 148 ; dedica- tion to First Folio, 149 ; Timber, 149, 150 ; laureate, 150 ; death, 150. Joseph Andrews, 276. Journal of the Plague Year, The, 271. Journal to Stella, The, 242, 243. Journey to the Hebrides, 290. Judith, 28, 29. Jules, in Pippa Passes, 436. Juliet, in Romeo and Juliet, 144. Jutes, The, 4, 5. Juvenal, translated by Dryden, 220; imitated by Johnson, 284. Kabale unci Liebe, Schiller's, 334. Kant, Immanuel, 324. Keats, John, mentioned, 361, 362, 369, 387, 431, 433, 460; account of, 365- 369; inspiration, 365 ; at school, 366; surgeon's apprentice, 366 ; Endymion, 366 ; third volume, 367 ; death, 367 ; burden of Keats, 368. Kenilworth, 339. Kenilworth : festivities, 117 ; Shake- speare, 131 ; map, 465, Db. Kent, occupied by the Jutes, 4 ; ab- sorbed by the Saxons, 6. Keswick : Coleridge, 321 ; Southey, 332 ; Shelley, 359 ; map, 465, Ca. Kidnapped, 430. Kilcolman Castle, Spenser's home in Ireland, 103. Kilmarnock, map, 465, Ba. King Arthur, stories of, 44, 47 ; in Geof- frey of Monmouth, 48 ; Malory's Morte Darthur, 84; Faerie Queene, 104 ; Milton, 185 ; Tennyson, 449. King David and Fair Bethseba, Peele's Love of, 125. King Henry VII., Bacon's History of, 174. King Henry VIII., 150. King Horn, 45, 46. King James Bible, The, 91. King John, Bale's, 118. King John, The Troublesome Reiqn of, 118. Kings Lynn, map, 465, Eb. 474 INDEX Kings' 1 Treasuries, 406. Kinoslby, Charles, 429. Kint vi-f, map, 465, Ba. Kirkby Wiske, map, 465, Da. Kirkcudbright, map, 465, Ba. Knight's Tale, Chaucer's, quoted, 73 ; suggestions for study, 79-81. Knox, John, 108, 399. Kmitsford, map, 465, Cb. Kubla Khan, 323. Kyd, Thomas, 126. Kynge's Quhair, The, 86. Lactantius, 24. Lady of Lyons, The, 416. Lady of Shalotl, The, 445, 449. Lady of the Lake, The, 337. Lady's Magazine, The, 295. Lake Country, The: Wordsworth, 317; De Quincey, 381. Lake poets, The, 321, 332, 387. Lalehain : Arnold, 411. Lalla Rookh, 368. V Allegro, 184, 192. Lamb, Charles, mentioned, 319, 366, 369, 383, 431 ; quoted (Walton), 215 ; ac- count of, 370-376; childhood, 370; an office clerk, 371 ; the tragedy, 371; bro- ther and sister, 372 ; literary career, 372 ; Tales from Shakespeare, 373 Essays of Elia, 374 ; personality, 375 death, 375 ; study, 375, 376. Lamb, Mary, 370-373, 375. Lamb's Poems, 371, 372. Lamia, 367. Lancaster, a Roman town, 3; map, 465, Ca. Lancelot Gobbo, in Merchant of Venice, 144. Land of the Glittering Plain, The, 459. La M.i in, Walter Savage, 388, 389, 411. Landport, map, 465, Dc. Lanfranc, Archbishop of Canterbury, 43. Lanoland, William, mentioned, 54, 82, 69, 74, 3% ; account of, 55, 56 ; Puts the Plowman's Vision, 56 ; Do Wei, Do Bet, Do Brst, 56; versification, 56. Lanotoft, Peter, 49. Language, the Knglish, 35-37 ; the Ro- man element, 36 ; the Cymric element, 36; the Latin element, 37; the Danish element, 37 ; officially recognized by the Normans, 42, 74. Laodamia, 322, 327. Lara, 353. Laracor : Swift, 239. Latt Chronicle of Barset, The, 429. Li Romanticism in English prose, 369-389. Romaunt of the Rose, The, 66. Romeo, 146. Romeo ami Juliet, 105. Romola, 416, 427. Rosalind, in As You Like It, 144. Rotalynde, Lodge's, 126. Rosamund (inn, and Old /Hind Margaret, .".73. Rossetti, Dante Gabrif.l, mentioned, int. ICO; account of, 459. Rothley Temple : Macaulay, 390; map, 465, Db. INDEX 479 Rousseau, 399. Rowley, William, 151. Rowley forgeries, The, 307. Roxana, 272. Rubaiyal, The, 459. • Rugby, map, 465, Db. Rule Britannia, 265. Rule of the Anchoresses, 53. Runiiimede, map, 465, Dc. Ruskin, John, mentioned, 2, 390, 410, 459 ; account of, 402-410 ; parentage, 402; boyhood, 403; the University, 403, 404; Modem Painters, 404; art criti- cism, 404; political economist, ethical teacher, 405; miscellaneous works, 406 ; color sense, 407 ; St. George's Guild, 407; socialistic influence, 408; study, 408-410. Ruth, 320, 326. Rydal Mount: Wordsworth, 321; map, 465, Ca. Ryeland, map, 465, Dc. Sackville, Thomas, Earl of Dorset, 116, 357. Sacrifice, The, Herbert's, 201. Sad Fortunes of the Reverend Amos Bar- ton, The, 426. Saffron Walden, map, 465, Ec. St. Albans: Bacon, 172, 174; map, 465, Dc. Si. Andreas, Cyuewulf's, 24, 27. St. Asaph, map, 405, Cb. St. George's Guild, 407. St. Guthlac, Cyuewulf's, 24, 27. St. Guthlac, unknown writer's, 27. St. Juliana, Cynewulf's, 24, 27. St. Ronan's Well, 339. Saint's Everlasting Rest, The, Baxter's, 214. Salisbury, map, 7, Cd; 465, Dc. Salsette and Elephanta, 403. Samson Agonisles, 191, 260. Sandyknowe : Scott, 335. Sapho and Phao, Lyly's, 125. Sark, map, 465, Cd. Sartor Resartus, 398, 399. Satire, The, 216, 220; Swift, 223, 237, 239, 240; Gulliver's Travels, 244-246; Scriblerus Club, 247; Pope, 249; Dun- dad, 257; London, 284; Walpole, 333; Wyatt, 95. Satirist, spirit of the, 246. Saul, 437. Sawyer, Bob, in Pickwick Papers, 418. Saxons, The, 4, 5, 41, 44; East Saxons, 5 ; West Saxons, 5, 6; The Chronicle, 35, 36; South Saxons, 5. Sayings of Alfred, 53. Sea Fell, map, 405, Ca. Scarborough, map, 465, Da. Scenes of Clerical Life, 426. Schiller, Carlyle's Life of, 397. Schiller, influence on Coleridge, 323; on Southey, 332; on " Monk" Lewis, 334. Scholar Gypsy, The, 411. School Master, The, 92, 93. School of Pope, The, 264. Scop, The, 8, 28, 29. Scotch poets, The, of fifteenth century, 84 ; Dunbar, Douglas, 86. Scotland, History of, Robertson's, 301. Scott, Life of, Lockhart's, 387. Scott, Sir Walter, mentioned, 86, 88, 354, 366, 369, 3S7, 391, 403, 413, 414, 415, 42S, 431; account of, 334-350; par- entage, childhood, 335 ; school days, law studies, 336; marriage, 337; trans- lations and ballads, 337; metrical ro- mances, 337, 338; Waverley, 338; Ivan- hoe, 339 ; baronetcy, 339 ; business failure, 340 ; Italy, 340 ; death, 341 ; study, 341-350. Scotus, John Erigena, 31. Scriblerus Club, The, 247, 257, 260, 264, 283, 289. Seafarer, The, 19, 27. Seasons, Thomson's, 256, 264, 265, 304. Sebald, in Pippa Passes, 436. Second Defense, Milton's, 186. Sedley, Jos., 424. Sejanus, 136, 148. Selborne, map, 465, Dc. Selkirk, map, 465, Ca. Sellwood, Emily (Mrs. Tennyson), 445. Seneca, 116, 139. Sensitive Plant, The, 361. Sentimental Journey, The, 279. Sesame and Lilies, 406. Seven Lamps of Architecture, The, 404. Seventeenth century, The, 170-221. Severn, The : Layamon, 48 ; Wyclif, 57 ; map, 465, Cc. Shakespeare, Lectures on, Coleridge's, 323; in Carlyle's Heroes, 399; Tale* from, 373; The Tragedies of, 374. Shakespeare, plays of, mentioned : All 's Well, 139, 145 ; Antony and Cleopatra, 141 ; As You Like It, 125, 126, 136, 138, 156 ; Comedy of Errors, 136, 143 ; Coriolanus, 141; Cymbeline, 141, 143; Hamlet, 119, 121, 136, 139, 159; Julius Ccesar, 139, 157; King Henry IV., 138; King Henry V., 118, 120, 121, 138; King Henry VI, 118, 136, 137; King Henry VIII, 141, 150; King John, 118, 120, 137; King Richard II, 69, 138, 139; King Richard III, 118, 138, 139; Lear, 139; Love's Labour 's Lost, 125, 136, 143, 152; Macbeth, 139, 143, 163; Measure for Measure, 139, 140; Merchant of Venice, 138, 155; Merry Wives, 125, 138, 143 ; Biidsummer Night's Dream, 105, 125, 136, 143 ; Much Ado, 138; Othello, 139; Pericles, 141 ; Romeo and Juliet, 105, 120, 137, 139; Taming of the Shrew, 138; Tem- pest, 141, 143, 146; Timon, 141; Titus Andronicus, 136; Troilus and Cressi- da, 140; Twelfth Night, 138; Two Gen- tlemen, 130; Two Noble Kinsmen, 150; Winter's Tale, 126, 141. Shakespeare, William, mentioned, 108, 117, 118, 121, 126, 150, 151, 170, 179, 183, 249, 399, 403, 450 ; account of, 129- 168 ; his company, 122 ; Globe Theatre, 480 INDEX 122; Lyly's influence, 125 ; Marlowe's influence, 126, 127; parentage, 130; boyhood, 130 ; school, 130 ; picturesque environment, 131 ; marriage, 132 ; spirit of the age, 132 ; in London, 13G ; an actor, 130 ; first period, 136 ; Greene's attack, 137 ; the poems, 138 ; second period, 138 ; coat of arms, 138 ; purchase of New 1'lace, 138 ; publica- tion of plays, 1:58 ; quarto texts, 13'J ; Palladis Tamia, 130; Globe Theatre, 139 ; third period, 130 ; the tragedies, 139, 140 ; investments, 140 ; the King's Players, 140 ; retirement, 141 ; fourth period, 141 ; sonnets, 141 ; last years, 142 ; death, 142 ; place, 142 ; art, 143 ; plots, 143 ; invention, 143 ; characters, 143 ; philosophy, 145 ; purpose, 14(5 ; Ben Jonson, 148; Fletcher, 150; study, 151-168 ; title-page of Hamlet, 153. Shakespeare's predecessors, 122. Sharpe, William, 433. Sharphani Park, map, 465, Cc. She Stoops to Conquer, 296. .She teas a Phantom of Delight, 321. Sheffield, map, 465, Db. Shelley, Pebcy Bysshe, mentioned, 354, 305, 366, 368, 369, 431, 433 ; account of, 357-365; childish imagination, 357 ; school days, 358; "Mad Shelley," 358; Oxford, 358; marriage with Har- riet Westbrooke, 359; in Ireland, 359; Queen Mab, 359; Alas/or, 360; Revolt of Islam, 360; separation from Har- riet and marriage with Mary Godwin, 300; departure from England, 360; lyrics, 361; Prometheus Unbound, The Cenci, Adonais,'A61; death, 362; study, 362-305. Shepherd's Calendar, The, 103, 134, 251. Shepherds Hunting, Wither's, 202. Shepherd's Week, Gay's, 264. Sheridan, Richard B., 298, 301. Sherwood ForeBt, map, 4C5, Db. Shirley, 425. Shrewsbury, map, 465, Cb. Shylock, in Merchant of Venire, 127, 144. Sidney, Sib Philip, mentioned, 8S, 102, 104, 105, 134, 266, 357; account of, 98- 100. Siege of Corinth, The, 353. Silas Marner, 127. Silez Scintillans, Vaughan's, 202. Simon Lee, 320. Sir Charles Grandison, 275, 276. Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere, 449. Sir Launcelot Graves, 278. Sir Roger de Coverlet/, 233, 235, 236, 207. Sir Toby Belch, in Twelfth A'ight, 141, 146. Sir Tristram, 45. Sittingbourne, map, 465, Ec. Sixteenth century, The, 89-169; table of authors, 169. Skelton, John, account of, 87; The N"( <'- romancer, 113. Sketches <■!' Lite and Manners, Do Quin- cey'K. Skiddaw, Mount, map, 465, Ca. Skylark, The, 361. Sleep and Poetry, 367. Small House at Allinyton, The, 429. Smike, in Nicholas Nickleby, 421. Smollett, Tobias, 278, 295; account of, 278. Snowdon, mountain, map, 465, Bb. Sohrab and Rustum, 411. Solway Firth, map, 465, Ca. Somersby : T«unyson, 443 ; map, 465, Eb. Song for St. Cecilia's Day, A, 220. Sonnet, Scorn not the, 141. Sonnet, The, 94, 96; Spenser's, 104; Shakespeare's, 141. Sonnets from the Portuguese, 437. Sordello, 435. Southampton, map, 465, Dc. Southey, Robebt, mentioned, 317, 319, 321, 359, 373, 381, 383, 408; aocount of, 332, 333; Pantisocracy, 332; works, 332; poet-laureate, 332. Southgate : Leigh Hunt, 369. South-Sea House, The, 374. Spanish romance, 266. Spanish Tragedy, The, 126. Specimen of an Induction to a Poem, 365. Specimens of English Dramatic Poets, 374. Spectator, The, 225, 229, 231, 285; de- scribed, 232, 233. Sjieculum Meditanlis, 59. Speech on Conciliation with America, 302. Spencer, Herbert, 426, 442. Spenser, Edmund, mentioned, 100, 101, 130, 134, 250, 251, 305, 449; account of, 102-106; friendship with Sidney, 102; The Shepherd's Calendar, 102, 103; Ireland, 103; The Faerie Queene, 104; death, 106; Btudy, 106,107. Spenserian stanza, The, 106, 265. Squeers, in Nicholas Nickleby, 421. Squire Western, in Tom Jones, 277. Stafford, map, 465, Cb. Stamford Bridge, map, 465, Db. Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse, ■111. Stedman, E. C, quoted, 327, 445. Steele, Richabd, mentioned, 223, 239, 241, 207, 270, 2S6, 289, 292, 374; ac- count of , 225-237 ; Horse Guards, 227; official gazetteer, 227; The Christian Hero, 227; periodical literature, 228; coffee-houses, 230; Toiler, 232; Spec- tator, 232, 233; journalistic schemes, 234, 235; death, 235. Stephen, Leslie, 254. Step* to the Temple, Crashaw's, 202. Stirling, Life of John, 400. Sterne", Lawrence, 278, 279, 414, 416; account of, 278, 279. Stevenson, Robert Louis, 430. Sliyne, Lord, in Vanity Fair, 424. Stillington, map, 465, Da. Stoke Poges: Gray, 305; map, 466, Do. INDEX 481 Stonehenge, map, 7, Cd; 465, Dc. Stones of Venice, -104. Strafford, 435. Strange Story, A , 41G. Stratford ou Avon : Shakespeare, 130 ; map, 465, Db. Strawberry Hill, map, 4C5, Dc. Streoueshalh (Whitby), founded by Hil- da, 20; Caedmon, 21. *" " Study suggestions : The Anglo - Saxon Period, 37-40; Chaucer, 75-81 1 S p— ser, 106, 107; the dj&uja, 128, 129; Shakespeare, 151-169r"Bacon, 175-178; Milton, 192-199 ; Addison, 235-237 ; Pope, 261-2G4 ; the novel, 280, 281 ; Johnson, 291, 292 ; Goldsmith, 297- 299 ; Burns, 313, 314 ; Wordsworth, 328-332 ; Scott, 341-350 ; Byron, 355- 357; Shelley, 362-365; Lamb, 375; De Quincey, 385, 386; Macaulay, 395, 396; Carlyle, 401, 402 ; Ruskin, 408-410; Browning, 438-442 ; Tennyson, 451- 458. Suckling, Sib John, 203; quoted, 204. Suffolk, settled by Angles, 5. Sunday, Herbert's, 201. Surrey, Earl of (Henry Howard), men- tioned, 89, 94, 98, 99; account of, 97, 98. Suspiria de Profundis, 384. Sutton, map, 465, Da. Swan Theatre, interior of the, 123. Swansea, map, 465, Cc. Swift, Jonathan, mentioned, 2, 223, 230, 234, 235, 254, 257, 258, 261, 264, 265, 285,289,293; account of, 237-248; ini- periousness, 237 ; youth, 238 ; a de- pendent, 238; Sir William Temple, 238; a Churchman, 239; first satires, 239-241; Bickerslaff,1\\.; a politician, 242; Journal to Stella, 242, 243; Dra- pier Letters, 244 ; Gulliver's Travels, 244-246; spirit of the satirist, 246; the Scriblerus Club, 247; death, 247; bib- liography, 248; friendship with Pope, 254, 255; edited by Scott, 337. Swift, The (ashes of Wyclif), 57. Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 460. Swineshead Abbey, map, 465, Db. Tabard Inn, The, 64. Table Talk, Coleridge's, 323. Tables Turned, The, 320. Taillefer, 42. TaiVs Magazine, 383, 384. Tale of a Tub, The, 240. Tale of Two Cities, A, 416, 420. Tales from Shakespeare, 373. Talisman, The, 339. Tamburlaine, 126, 134. Task, The, 309. Taller, The, mentioned, 225, 228, 229, 231, 285; described, 232. Taunton, map, 465, Cc. Tavistock, map, 465, Be. Taylor, Jeremy, 214. Temple, Sir William, 238. Tennyson, Alfred, mentioned, 387, 390, 432, 459 ; account of, 442-458 ; " Eng- land's voioe," 442 ; birth and early life, 443 ; Poems by Two Brothers, 443 ; the University, early volumes, 444; the reviews, 444, 445 ; The Princess, 445 ; the year 1850, 440 ; poet-laureate, 446 ; In Memoriam, 447, 448 ; laureate verse, 448 ; Idylls of the King, 449 ; dramas. 449 . 450; peerage, 450; last J 450, 451 ; study, ~ 451-458 T iiiii jwh i , niiBrl r iTn rnfiri 443. Tennyson, Frederick, 443. Tennyson, Hallam, 448. Tennyson, Life of Alfred, Lord, by his son, 448. Terence, 115. Teutons, The, 3, 4, 5 ; their fatalism, 20. Tewkesbury, map, 465, Cc. Thackeray, W. M., mentioned, 231, 237, 428, 431 ; quoted, Addison, 227 ; Swift, 247 ; account of, 422-425 ; unimportant works, 423; Vanity Fair, 423; other great novels, 424 ; lectures in Amer- ica, 425; death, 425. Thalaba, 332. Thames River, map, 465, Ec. Thanet, Island of : occupied by the Jutes, 4 ; landing of Augustine, 19. Theatre, The, 235. Theatres, The, 119-121 ; the companies, 121 ; decline of the stage, 151. Theobald, Lewis, The Dunciad, 258. Theocritus, influence on Spenser, 102. There is a fountain filled with blood, 308. Thistle and the Rose, The, 86. Thomson, James, mentioned, 256, 304, 316 ; account of, 264, 265; The Sea- sons, 264, 265; The Castle of Indo- lence, 265. Thy r sis, 411,459. Timbuctoo, 444. Times, The, 431. Tintagel, map, 465, Be. Tintern Abbey, map, 465, Cc. Tintern Abbey, Lines on, 320, 324, 327. Tiny Tim, in Christmas Carol, 421. Titmarsh, Michael Angelo, pen-name of Thackeray, 423. Tito Melema, in Romola, 427. To a Mountain Daisy, 311. To a Mouse, 311. To a Nightingale, 367. To Psyche, 367. To the Queen, 448. Tom Jones, 277, 424. TotteVs Miscellany, 98. Tourneur, Cyril, 151. Towneley miracle plays, 111. Toxophilus, 92 ; quotation, 93, 94. Tractate on Education, Milton's, 186. Tragedies of Shakespeare, The, 374. Tragedy, the first, 116. Tragical History of Doctor Faustus, The, 126. Translations : Ovid, Vergil, 86 ; Seneca, 116 ; The Bible, 56, 58, 90, 91; Psalms (Wither), 202 ; ^neid, 97; Dryden's, 220 ; Homer, Drydeu's, 220 ; Pope's, 482 INDEX 255, 25C ; Juvenal, Persids, 220 ; Wal- leustiin. 323 ; Goetz von Berliekingen, 337; WUhelmMeUter,2ffl; Rubaiyat, 45'J. Traveller, The, 29G. Traveller's Song, The, 9. Treasure Island, 430. Trelawney, E. J., 3C2. Trent River, map, 465, Db. Trevelyan, G. 0., 391, 393. Trial of Treasure, The, 112. Tristram Shandy, 278. Trivia, Gay's, 264. Troilus anil Criseyde, Chaucer's, C8, 266. Trojan War, stories of, 44. Trollope, Anthony, 428, 429. Trouveres, The, 43, 44, 48. True Tragedy of Richard, Duke of York, The, 118. Tulliver, Maggie, in Mill on the Floss, 427. Tulliver, Tom, in Mill on the Floss, 427. Tuubridge Wells, map, 465, Ec. Turk's Head Tavern, 289. Turner, J. M. W., 403, 404. Twa Corbies, The, 88. Tweed River, map, 465, Ca. Twickenham: Bacon, 171; Pope, 256: map, 465, Dc. Two Children in the Wood, The, 88. Two Noble Families of York and Lan caster, Hall's, 117. Two Noble Kinsmen, 150. Twyford, map, 465, Dc. Ttndale, William, mentioned, 89, 92; account of, 90. Tyndall, John, 442. Tynemouth, map, 465, Da. Udall, Nicholas, 115. Udolpho, Mysteries of, 334, 414. Ullswater, map, 465, Ca. Uncle Toby, in Tristram Shandy, 279. Uncommercial Traveller, The, 420. V a fortunate Traveller, Nash's, 126. Universal Prayer, Pope's, 259. Unto this last, 405. Upon His Majesty's Happy Return, 200. 1'riuh Ht-ep, in David Copperfield, 421. I , n Burial, 178. Utopia, 89, 90, 174, 244. Vanity Fair, 422, 423, 424, 425. Vathek, 333. Vauohan, Henry, 201, 202. Vereelli Honk, The, 26, 27. Vergil, translated by Gavin Douglas, 86; translated by Dryden, 220; influence "ii Spenser, 102. Verse, priority over prose, 29. Virur of Wakefield, The, 279, 293, 296, 4211. Victoria, 431. Victorian age, The, 389, 392, 417, 432, 442 ; minor poets of the, 459, 460. Victorian poets, The-, 111. i::l-4G0. Victorian Poets, Stedman's, 445. View of the Pies' nt Stair of Inland, 103. Villette, 425. Vindication of Natural Society, Burke's, 301. Virginians, The, 425. Vision of Don Roderick, The, 337. Vision of Sudden Death, The, 384. Vivian, Sir Walter, in The Princess, 445. Vivian Grey, 416. Vivien, 449. Volpone, 148. Vox Clamantis, 69. Wace, 48, 49. Wakefield, map, 465, Db. Walilhere, 28. Wallenstein, Coleridge's translation of, 323. Waller, Edmund, 206; mentioned, 250. Walpole, Horace, 333. Walsiugham, map, 465, Eb. Waltham Abbey, map, 465, Ec. Walton, I zaak, mentioned, 200; account of, 215. Wanderer, The, 27. Wantage, map, 465, Dc. Warden, The, 428. Ware, map, 465, Ec. Waring, 433. Warkworth Castle, map, 465, Da. Warwick, map, 465, Do. Warwick Castle : festivities, 117; Shake- speare, 131. Wat Tyler, 332. Watchman, The, 319. Watling Street, map, 7, Be to Cd. Waverley, 338, 354. Waverley, map, 465, Dc. Wearmouth, birthplace of Bede, 29. Webster, John, 151. Weir of Hermiston, 430. Wellington, Ode on the Death of the Duke of, 448. Wells next the Sea, map, 405, Eb. Welsh, The, 6. Wessex : settled by Saxons, 5, 6 ; Alfred's kingdom, 32; literature, 36. Westerbury,m«/), 465, Cc. Westward Ho .' 429. Whitby : seat of Hilda's community, 20 ; Caedmon, 21 ; ravaged by the Danes, 31 ; map, 7, Cb ; 465, Da. While Doe of Rylslone, The, 322. Why Come ye not to Courte f 87. WMkirk miracle plays, 111. Widsith, 9, 10, 27. Wife of Bath's Tale, Dryden's, 220. Wight, Isle of, map, 465, Dc. Wiglaf, in Beowulf, 13, 14. Wuhelm Meister, Carlyle's translation of, 397. William of Normandy, 6 ; invades Eng- land, 41, 42, Will's Coffee-HouBe, 220,230, 231, 250, 289. Wilson, John, " Christopher North," mentioned, 381, 387, 444. Wilton: Sir Philip Sidney, 99; map, 465, Dc. INDEX 483 Winchester, a Roman town, 3 ; Alfred's capital, 34 ; annals, 27 ; map, 7, Cd ; 465, Dc. Windermere, map, 465, Ca. Windsor : James I., 86 ; Earl of Surrey, 97 ; Pope, 250 ; Gray, 305 ; Shelley, 360 ; map, 465, Dc. Windsor Forest, 251. Winestead, map, 465, Db. Wisdom for a Man's Self, Of, Bacon's, 174. Witch of Atlas, The, 361. Witches, and Other Night Fears, 370. Wither, George, 202. Wit's Treasury, The, 139. Wolfram von Eschenbach, 47. Wonders of the World, The, facsimile illustration, 51. Woodstock, 339 ; map, 465, Dc. Worcester, a Roman town, 3 ; map, 7, Be ; 465, Cb. Wordsworth, William, mentioned, 19, 86, 332, 360, 366, 373, 375, 381, 383, 387, 395, 408, 431, 446 ; quoted, 141 ; account of, 316-328 j youth, 317 ; French Revolution, 317; France, 318; depression and recovery, 318 ; Dorothy Wordsworth, 318; Coleridge, 319; ly- rical ballads, 320 ; Germany, 320 ; at Grasmere, 321 ; theory of verse, 321 marriage, 321 ; Sonnets and Odes, 321 The Excursion, 322 ; poet-laureate, 322 death, 322; obligation to Burns, 324 poetic ideal, 324; material, 325 ; nature, 326 ; study, 328. World and the Child, The, 112. Wtatt, Sir Thomas, mentioned, 89, 94, 97-99 ; account of, 94-96. Wyclif, John, mentioned, 42, 54, 62, 69, 83, 90, 91 ; account of, 56-58. Yeast, 429. Yelloivplush Papers, The, 423, 431. York, a Roman town, 3 ; monastic school, 31 ; miracle plays, 111 ; map, 7, Cc ; 465, Db. Yorkshire, Danish place-names, 37. Young, Edward, mentioned, 237 ; ac- count of, 264. Zanoni, 416. Zschokke, 334. @Ebe Ritocwibe prcsjtf BUotrotyped and printed by If. O. Houghton &• C>>. Cambridge, Mast., U. S. A. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY This book is DUEtm the last date stamped below M AR 9 1948 JAN 2 81949 JUN 3 WW i 7 1952 OCT 2 2 19 ROVH *t w NOV 1 4 BE J MAI i "*M A 7^l9ll0lim2Ul2: P.M. 3I4I5I6. MAIN |8L Dtrr^gfti DEC 18 1964 A.Jw P.M. ie','^JQ(.11|1 9|l|2^|4l5l6 i UNIVERSITY of CA!,!VORNIA Los a ngi University o) California, Los Angeles L 005 830 281 1 A A 000 293 692 o