Sheldon & Company's Text- Books. PHYSIOLOGIES. Hooker' 8 First Book in Physiology. For Public Schools. Hooker's New Physiology. Revised, corrected, and put into the most perfect form for text-book use. By J. A. Sewall, M. D., of the Illinois State Normal University. A few of the excellencies of these books, of which teachers and others have spoken, are : 1st. Their clearness, both in statement and description. 2d. The skill with which the interesting points of the subject are brought out. 3d. The exclusion of all useless matter; other books on this subject having much in them which is useful only to medical studeuts. 4th. The exclusion, so far as is possible, of strictly technical terms. 5th. The adaptation of each book to its particular purpose, the smaller work preparing the scholar to understand the full development of the subject in the larger one. 6th. In the larger work the science of Physiology is brought out as it now is, with its recent important discoveries. 7th. Some exceedingly interesting and important subjects are fully treated, which, in other books of a similar character, are either barely hiuted at or are entirely omitted. 8th. These works are not mere compilations, but have the stamp of originality, differing in some essential points from all other works of their class. 9th. In beauty and clearness of style, which are qualities of no small importance in books for instruction, they will rank as models. 10th. The subject is eo presented that there is nothing to offend the most refined taste or the most scrupulous delicacy. PALMER'S BOOK-KEEPING. The Elements of B<%>L- Keeping, embracing single and double entry, with a great variety of examples for practice, with Key and Blanks. By JosEPn II. Palmer, A.M. All the principles are clearly stated, fully illustrated, and extensively ap- plied in a great variety of examples in every-day life, for practice in Book- keeping, Palmer's Blanks to do. (5 numbers). Palmer's Practical Pool- Keeping. By Joseph II PALX9B, A.M., Instructor in New York Free Academy. IJnio. 1(57 pilars. Blank* to do. (Journal and Ledger), Key to do. Sheldon "English Lang uag e * 5, The Biending of the Norman and tlie Saxon Speech* A CHART OF THE ENGLISH LITERATURE DISCUSSED IN THIS VOLUME. OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE. POETRY. i MIDDLE ENGLISH LITERATURE. PROSE WRITERS POETS. PROSE WRITERS. Beowulf. Caedmon's Paraphrase of the Psal^ts. King Alfred. The Saxon Chronicle. The Venerable Bede. Layamon. Orm, or Ormin. Geoffrey Chaucer. William Langlande. John Gower. Thomas Occleve. John Ltdgate. James I. of Scotland. The Old Ballad Writers. Sir John Mandeville. Geoffrey Chaucer. John Wycliffe. William Caxton. The Writers of the Paston ■letters. MODERN ENGLISH LITERATURE. POETS. of Surrey. PROSE WRITERS. Of the first half ( John Skelton. of the \ Henry Howard, Ear 16th Century. { Sir Thomas Wyatt. The Non-dramatic Elizabethan Poets. The Elizabethan Dramatists. The Metaphysical Poets. John Milton. Samuel Butler. John Dryden. The Corrupt Dramatists. The Artificial Poets of the 18th Century. The First Romantic Poets. Walter Scott. Byron, Moore, Shelley, Keats, Campbell, Hunt, And Landor. » The Lake School. ( Sir Thomas More. f Of the first half of the 1 Lord Berners. 16th Century. } Roger Asciiam. ( William Tyndale. Of the Elizabethan Age. Theological Writers of the Civil War and the Commonwealth. The Literature of the Restoration. The Philosophers and Theologians of Locke's Time. Prose Writers of the first half of the 18th Century. The First Great Novelists. The First Great Historians. Ethical, Political, and Theological Writers of the latter half of the 18th Century. The Literary Impostors of the 18th Century. The Modern Novelists. The Modern Historians and Essayists. CHAPTEH tt. ENGLISH LITERATURE BEFORE THE NORMAN CONQUEST. FOR more than fourteen centuries the thoughts and feelings of the English people have found expression in the language which we now speak. The rude dialects that were brought to Britain by our forefathers, though differing in many particulars, were like the modern English in all essential respects. This ven- erable language has undergone many changes and modifications, has been affected by strong foreign influences, has stripped itself of many of its inflections, has acquired a vast vocabulary, has passed from youth to maturity. Between its youth and its maturity then has been wonderful growth, but the identity remains. The modern English is the Anglo-Saxon developed. It is customary to use the terms " Anglo-Saxon," " Semi-Saxon," and "English," to designate three periods in the history of our language ; but as the use of the first two of these terms might tempt us to think that we are considering a foreign language and literature, when we are considering merely the old fashions of our own speech, we shall do well to avoid the temptation by adopting the following division: 1. The Old English, from the dawn of the language until 1154. 2. The Middle English, from 1154 until about 1500. 3. The Modern English, from about 1500 to the present time. It cannot be incorrect to apply the term " English " to even the first of these periods, for the renowned King Alfred, writing in the ninth century, uses that very term in describing his language. 11 The old English was highly inflected in its grammar, and had few- words adopted from foreign languages. The middle English is the name we give to that period of transition in which the speech of * iEifrod Kyning wm wiHittod thiese bee, tad Ui of boctedene on wende. " iElfivd King was commentator of this book, and it from book-::, into English turned." BEOWULF. 27 the Normans was exerting its influence upon our language. Dur< ing this period the more complicated forms of grammatical structure were abandoned, and the vocabulary was largely increased. In the modern English, aside from the addition of new words, the changes have been slight. The printing-press has stereotyped the language. OLD ENGLISH POETRY. The Poem, Beowul£ No other spoken language of modern Europe has a literature as ancient as the English. Its earliest extant writing is an epic poem of more than six thousand lines, entitled " Beowulf." The scene of its action indicates that it was composed by Saxons who lived before the invasion of England, though a few eminent scholars give the poem an English birth- place in the county of Durham. In their primitive home, when the banqueting-hall (the " mead- bench ") was tilled, the gleeman stirred the courage of his listeners by the recital of the superhuman deeds of mighty Beowulf. As the story runs, King Hrothgar and his chosen subjects were wont to sit in his great hall listening to music, and drinking for their pleasure ; but their pleasure was disturbed by their fear of Grendel, a grim and terrible giant, who dwelt in the neighboring marshes of Jutland. This monster would come into the palace at times to see " how the doughty Danes found themselves after their beer-carouse." On the occasion of his first visit he slew thirty sleeping men. For twelve years he was the terror of the land. At last the pitiful story came to the ears of Beowulf, a viking who was noted for his victories over the giants of the deep. He resolved to go to the relief of Hrothgar. Entering the haunted hall, he prom- ised to fight the monster. When the mists of the night arose, Grendel came, and commenced a ferocious assault upon a sleeping man. Beowulf faced him, fought him valiantly, and wounded him so that he died. Then there was great rejoicing. But the joy was soon dispelled, for the mother of the monster came to seek revenge. Beowulf pursued her into deep, dark waters, where he was seized and dragged to the bottom of her cave ; but he was able to let her soul out of its bone-house (" ban-hus "). A description of this poem is comparatively uninstructive and valueless without an illustration of its quaint thought and it§ 28 BKOWUl.l. terse expression. We will look at a short extract from the con- densed and modernized version found in MorUy^s English Writers.' 4 " Then came from the moor under the misty hills, Grendel stalking: the wicked spoiler meant in the lofty hall to snare one of mankind. He strode under the clouds until he saw the wine- house, golden hall of men. Came then faring to the house the joy- less man, he rushed straight on the door, fast with fire-hardened bands, struck with his hands, dragged open the hall's mouth : quickly then trod the fiend on the stained floor, went wroth of mood, and from his eyes stood forth a loathsome light, likest to flame. He saw in the house many war-men sleeping all together, then was his mood laughter. Hope of a sweet glut had arisen in him. But it was not for him after that night to eat more of man- kind. The wretched wight seized quickly a sleeping warrior, slit him unawares, bit his bone-locker, drank his blood, in morsels swallowed him : soon had he all eaten, feet and fingers. Nearer forth he stept, laid hands upon the doughty-minded warrior at his rest, but Beowulf reached forth a hand and hung upon his arm. Soon as the evil-doer felt that there was not in mid-earth a stronger hand-grip, he became fearful in heart. Not for that could he escape the sooner, though his mind was bent on flight, He would flee into his den, seek the pack of devils; his trial there was such as in his life days he had never before found. The hall thundered, the ale of all the Danes and earls was spilt. Angry, fierce were the strong fighters, the hall was full of the din. It was great wonder that the wine-hall stood above the war-like beasts, that the fair earth-home tell not to the ground. But within and without it was fast with iron bands cunningly forged. Over the North Danes Stood dire fear, 0:1 every one of those who heard the gruesome whoop. The friend of earls held fast the deadly guest, would not leave him while living. Then drew a warrior of Beowulf an old sword, of his father's for help of his lord. The sons of strife sought then to hew on every side, they knew not that no war-blade would cut into the wieked scather; but Beowulf had forsworn every edge. Hvgelac'8 proud kinsman had the foe of God in hand. The fell Wretch bore pain, a deadly wound gaped on his shoulder, the sinews sprang asunder, the hone-locker burst, to Beowulf was war- strength given. Crendel fled away death-sick, to seek a sad dwell- ing under the fen shelters; his life's end was come," When Ilrothgar died, the hero of the poem ascended the throne ; and after an adventurous reign of fifty-years, he died from wounds received in slaying a terrible foe-fiend. This, the most ancient and the most interesting of the old Bug. lish poems, is full of the superstition! of heathen times, ami yet ♦Vol. l.,p 251, 80Q. CAEDMOK. 29 it presents a character instinct with chivalry and generosity. It is the picture of "an age brave, generous, right-principled.' Many strange but forcible compound words, many highly imagina- tive metaphors, andjfoe similes are found in this venerable poem. It is supposed to be allegorical, the monster representing a poison- ous exhalation from the marshes. If the supposition be a correct one, this literary relic shows the predilection of our ancestors for allegorical expression. Although the action of this heroic story was not later than the beginning of the seventh century, the only MS. which has preserved the narrative for us was written not earlier than the close of the tenth century. This most valuable of English MSS., now kept in the British Museum, was probably the work of a monk. It was written in Danish characters. The writing is continuous, resembling our manuscript of prose. There is no rhyming, for rhyme was an adornment uncommon in English poetry until after the Norman Conquest, But in this, and in all other Old English (Anglo-Saxon) poems, a rude alliteration is found, which is explained in our dis- cussion of "The Vision of Piers Plowman." Caedmon's Paraphrase of the Scriptures. The next poem demanding our attention is free from the pagan sentiments ol Beowulf. It was written about two centuries after the Angles and Saxons began their invasion of England, and by that time they had been won to the Christian faith. A monk named Died 680.] Caedmon (Kad'mon), was the first Englishman who has left us poetry inspired by the beauties of Christian sentiment. He was the author of a Metrical Paraphrase of the Scriptures. Connected with his work, we have one of the most interesting legends found in English literature. He was a servant at a monastery in Northumbria, where Hilda, a lady of royal blood, was Abbess.* Sitting, one evening, with a company of rustics, who were whiling away the time by singing and by recitation, his * Above the small and land-locked harbor of Whitby rises and juts out towards the sea the dark cliff where Hild's monastery stood, looking out over the German Ocean. It is a wild, wind-swept upland, and the sea beats furiously beneath, and standing there one feels that it is a fitting birth-place for the poetry of the sea- ruling nation. Nor is the verse of the first poet without the stormy note of th^ scenery among which it was written.— Stopford Brooke. 30 CAEDMON. ignorance compelled him to be silent when it was his turn to help on the entertainment. Bemoaning his stupidity, " he left the house of festivity, went out to the stables of the beasts, whose custody on that night was intrusted to him ; " and there in his restless sleep a strange figure appeared to him and bade him sing. U I cannot sing," said Caedmon ; " I have come out hither from the feast because I could not sing." Then he who spoke to him said, " But you have to sing to me." "What must I sing?" asked Caedmon; and the voice replied, " Sing the origin of creatures." At once an inspiration came to the ignorant peasant, and the words of his song lingered in his memory when he awoke. The people of the neigh- boring monastery pronounced his new endowment a miracle, called him a favored child of heaven, made him a member of their order, and ever treated him with deference. Such is the legend. The marvelous story may have been told for the purpose of winning the reverent esteem of the people for Caedmon's teachings. But without the story he would have been eminent among men. His work continued to be the most popular expression of religious feeling, and won for him the deep reverence of five centuries of Englishmen. It has been supposed that this great religious poet of the Anglo-Saxons suggested to Milton the subject of his renowned epic. That Milton must have read Caedmon with great interest seems probable, in view of the fact that the MS. of Caedmon, dis- covered in 1654, was first published in 1655, and that it discussed the Fall of Man, the very subject upon which Milton's imagination was at work. Both describe wicked angels, their expulsion from heaven, their descent into hell, and the creation of the worlil. In Satan's soliloquy in Hell we find a passage (others might be cited), in which the great English epic poet of the seventeenth century has thoughts closely resembling those that were written by the monk of the seventh century. These poems of the Old English period, one produced while our ancestors were yet in paganism, the other after they had accepted Christianity, are the only extended works in verse which have been preserved. The shorter poems are not numerous. Fragments of verse and two or three unbroken passages are found amid the prose of the Saxon Chronicle. They are always spirited, but serious. They are the utterances of a people who, though KIKG ALFBED. 31 unaccustomed to give vent to their feelings, yet, when excited by some great occasion, expressed themselves with earnest solemnity. They never show us the sparkle of lyric verse, — the national char- acter was not adapted to its production. OLD ENGLISH PROSE. B. 849.] King Alfred's Literary Influence. The name of King D. 901.] Alfred stands pre-eminent among the writers of prose in Old English. No sooner had he delivered his people from their Danish enemies, than he set at work to free them from their bondage to ignorance. From various quarters, he invited men of learning to his court. He insisted upon the better education of the clergy. What he could do, he did, to restore the literary work that had been destroyed when the Danes burned English monas- teries. In order to diffuse knowledge, he had standard writings on religion, morals, geography, and history, translated into the lan- guage of the people. He not only gave patronage to learning ; he also gave his earnest personal efforts in contributing to the national literature. At a time of life when the task must have been irksome enough, he applied himself to a careful course of training in order to prepare himself for the work of a writer. By these means his patriotic desires were gratified ; and, while he succeeded in increas- ing the intelligence of his country, he won for himself a lofty place among royal authors. King Alfred's chief works were translations of Bede's Ecclesiasti- cal History, the Ancient History of Orosius, and Boethius On the Consolations Afforded by Philosophy. But he was something more than a mere translator. The new matter introduced by way ol comment or illustration, entitles him to be called an original author. His writings are pronounced u the purest specimens of Anglo-Saxon prose." The patronage and the example of the great king must have induced the writing of many works in the native language. Time has spared us very few of them. One grand monument of prose literature, the Saxon Chronicle, still remains. It exists in seven separate forms, each named from the monastery in which it was completed. The usual unauthentic account of this work is that it was originally composed at the suggestion of King Alfred, and, 32 THE SAXON CHRONICLES. beginning with the arrival of Julius Caesar in Britain, was brought down to the year 891; and that from that time it was continued aa a contemporary record until the accession of Henry II., in 1154. This chronicle is exceedingly interesting, as it is the first ever written in Teutonic prose, and is also most valuable, since it fur- nishes trustworthy statements concerning the early history of the English people. At the beginning, the work is crude, meagre in its details, and altogether devoid of the qualities we expect to find in an elaborate historical narration; but as the record draws towards its close, the chroniclers occasionally rise into sustained descriptions, display vigor of style and a sober eloquence. " Putting aside the Hebrew annals, there is not anywhere known a series of early vernacular histories comparable to the Saxon Chronicles." Their close marks the close of the old language as well as of the old literature ; for before the chronicler had thrown down his pen, he had begun to confuse his grammar and to corrupt his vocabulary. Latin Authorship in England. The literature thus far referred to was written for the amusement or instruction of comparatively ignorant people j much of it was intended for recital to those who could not read. But there were monks in England who were studying and writing in Latin, then the only language of the republic of learning. During the first five or six centuries of England's history, her most highly cultivated men were contrib- uting to the well-stocked literature of Rome, and were withholding the fruits of their mental toil from the literature of their own nation. One of these Latin authors, the Venerable Bede, by his record of the early history of England, has bequeathed to us B. 673.] most valuable information. He was placed in the D. 735.] Wearmouth Monastery when seven years of age. The rest of his biography is contained in the following brief passage, translated from one of his works : * 14 Spending all the remaining time of my life in that monastery, I wholly applied myself to the study of Scripture, and amidst thu observance of regular discipline, and the daily care of singing in the * Bode, like Caedmon, was a Northumbrian. The extinction of Northumfcriar tilcratin-r murks the invasion by the Danes. THE VENERABLE BEDE. 33 church, I always took delight in learning, teaching and writing. [n the nineteenth year of my age I received deacon's orders ; in the thirtieth, those of the priesthood, * * * from which time till the fifty-ninth year of my age I have made it my business, for the use of me and mine, to compile out of the works of the venerable fathers, and to interpret and explain, according to their meaning, these following pieces." . The enumeration itself is startlingly voluminous. " His writings form almost an encyclopaedia of the knowledge of his day." Many of them were prepared as text-books for the hundreds of students who sought his teaching, and they included treatises on mathe- matics, on astronomy, on grammar, on rhetoric, on dialectics, on meteorology, on music and on medicine.* But it is by one work that he has made the English nation a lasting debtor to his fame : for his Ecclesiastical History of the English was a history of England, and was for centuries the only source of knowledge in matters relating to the nation's early career. Written for the purpose of preserving among the Angles and Saxons the memory of their con- version to the Christian faith, it told them, also, the story of their political life. In careful and successful research, in arrangement of materials, and in felicity of style, he rises far above all Gothic historians of that age. Green's Short History of the English People, gives the following version of the story of Bede's last hours, which were spent in finishing his Translation of the Gospel of John : " ' There is still a chapter wanting,' said the scribe, as the morn- ing drew on, 'and it is hard for thee to question thyself any longer.' 'It is easily done,' said Bede; 'take thy pen and write quickly.' Amid tears and farewells the day wore on to eventide. ' There is yet one sentence unwritten, dear Master,' said the boy. ' Write it quickly,' bade the dying man. ' It is finished now,' said the little scribe, at last. ' You speak truth,' said the master ; ' all is finished now.' Placed upon the pavement, his head supported in his scholar's arms, his face turned to the spot where he was wont to pray, Bede chanted the solemn ' Glory to God.' As his voice reached the close of his song, he passed quietly away." In the old English literature, the idea of duty and the claims of religion are everywhere recognized. They appear in the pagan- ism of Beowulf, they are piously chanted in the verses of Caedmon, they are displayed in the achievements of King Alfred, they give * See the Development qf English Literature, O. E. Period, Brother Azarias. 34 THE VENERABLE BEDE. sanctity to the life and works of the Venerable Bede. The serious tone of that first age has sounded through the later ages of English thought. The English Literature "has for its most distinctive mark the religious sense of duty. It represents a people striving through successive generations to find out the right and do it, to root out the wrong, and. labor ever onward for the love of God." * * Morley's First Sketch of English Literature, p. 1. Note.— For extended reading upon the topics discussed in this chapter, the student is referred to Wright's Biographia Britannica Literaria, Morley's English Writers, Guest's History of English Rhythms, Conybeare's Illustrations of Anglo- Saxon Poetry, Thorpe's edition of Caedmon, Craik's English Literature and Lan guage, and Taine's English Literature. In this chapter we have considered: J, A general division of the English Language* 2. The Poem, Beoivulf. 3. Caedmon's Paraphrase of the Scripture** 4. King Alfred's Literary Influence. 5. The Saxon Chronicle, 6. The Venerable Bede, CHAPTER HI. FROM THE CONQUEST TO GEOFFREY CHAUCER. FOR more than a century after the Norman Conquest, English Literature was inert. That conquest, so fatal to the native aristocracy, seemed at first to have swept away in common ruin the laws, language, and arts of the English people, and to have blot- ted out England from the muster-roll of the nations. A foreign king and aristocracy, an alien language and literature, ruled in the land ; the old speech was no longer heard in the halls of the great ; native genius no longer strove to utter itself in the native tongue ; and the voice of the English nation seemed stilled forever. But it was not the stillness of death ; in a few generations signs of re- turning life began to show themselves; and the English nation emerged from the fiery trial, with its equipment of language, laws and literature, materially altered indeed, and perhaps improved, but still bearing the ineffaceable Teutonic stamp. The national life was not annihilated in the Battle of Hastings ; it was only sus- pended for a time. Changes in the English Language. In the old English, as in. other Teutonic languages, there was a tendency to shake off com- plicated inflections. This tendency existed before the Norman Conquest. That great political revolution gave it additional im- pulse. The vernacular speech was driven from literature for a time, and found its refuge in the cottages of ignorant people. No longer fixed by use in literature, it fell into disorder; the processes of change were thereby accelerated, and when, at the middle of the twelfth century, this speech rose to the surface once more, it had traveled far along its destined course. Still it was the old tongue. In the words of Max Muller, " not a single drop of foreign blood has entered into the organic system of the English language. The Grammar, the blood and soul of the language, is as pure and un« THE BRUT OF LATAHON. mixed In the English spoken in the British Isles as it was when spoken on the shores of the German Ocean by the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes of the continent." * Thi3, the Middle English Stage, was a revolutionary period of the language. There was a general breaking up of the old gram- matical system ; uncertainty, confusion, and fluctuation prevailed. The Northern, the Midland, and the Southern dialects, each with certain peculiar inflectional forms, and each represented by literary works of some note, struggled for the mastery. The influx of French words too, though trifling at first, had already begun ; and for the next three centuries the process went on with increasing rapidity. The interest of the writings which form the subject of this chapter is almost exclusively philological and historical. Their literary merits are small ; but they supply the means of tracing the course of the language through its many varying forms, and, occasionally, they throw a powerful light on the feelings and aspirations, the political and social condition of the people. We shall give them but a passing glance. Layamon's Brut. If we except a few fragments of verse, — The Hymn of St. Godric, the Ely Song of King Canute, the Here Prophecy, none of them exceeding eight lines in length — the first to break the long silence was Layamon, author of the Brut. He was a priest, at Ernley, in Worcestershire, and seems to have been a gentle, pious, patriotic man, a lover of tradition. His work, written early in the thirteenth century, is a chronicle of Britain, and is mainly • translation from the French of the Brut oVAngleterre; but Layamon has introduced so much new matter into his work, and has made it so conversational in style, that it is more than double the length of the original. It is a free narration in verse of Celtic traditions which had been preserved in France and in parts of England. The ■tory makes Brutus, a son of the Trojan Aeneas, the founder of the line of British Monarchs. The style of the work bears witness to Norman influence, but not to so great an extent as might h:i\ expected from the translator of a French original. The fact that it was written for the eonnnon people of a rural district was favor- Able to the use ot simple English, and makes it a valuable il lustra- M Lectures on the Science of Language," 1st series, p. 81, Amer. Edition. THE OEMULUK. 37 tion of the state of our language at that time. Written nearly one hundred and fifty years after the Norman Conquest, it is, nevertheless, a specimen of almost pure Saxon. The old text in its more than thirty thousand lines has not fifty words taken from the French. The foreign influence, however, appears in the occa- sional use of rhymes. Layamon's work was preserved in two manuscripts of the thirteenth century, which illustrate the progress of the language in ridding itself of Anglo-Saxon terminations. The Ormulum, another monument of our old literature, is sup- posed to have been written in the thirteenth century. One of its editors describes it as " a series of homilies in an imperfect state, composed in metre, without alliteration, and, except in very few cases, without rhyme : the subject of the homilies being supplied by those portions of the New Testament which were read in the daily services of the church." The author himself says, " If any one wants to know why I have done this deed, why I have turned into English the Gospel's holy teaching ; I have done it in order that all young Christian folks may depend upon that only, that they with their whole might follow aright the Gospel's holy teaching in thought, in word, in deed." The text reads more easily than Laya- mon's Brut, and that fact, together with many peculiarities of structure, indicates that the work is more recent. At the time of its writing, the conflict of languages and dialect? in Eugland was going on, and the people made sad work in their attempts to pro- nounce each other's speech. To save his verses from abuse or mispronunciation, Orm, or Ormin, adopted an ingenious use of consonants as a key to the sounds of vowels. After every short vowel the consonant was doubled, and the reader, of whatever speech he might be, was left with no excuse for marring the sound of the verse. A single couplet will illustrate : " Thiss boc iss ncmmned Orrmulum, Forrthi that Orrm itt wrohhte." (This book is called Ormulum, because Orm wrought it.) Poetical Romances. In that age literary thought demanded the narration of romance in song. The taste was native to the French ; and English writers, in considerable numbers, sought their laurels in this kind of composition. The stories, originally written 38 THE POETRY OP CHIVALRY. in the French, full of love and adventure, were full of the spirit of chivalry. Professional minstrels, knights, and even kings had vied in their composition. These romances group themselves about great names, some having Alexander, some Charlemagne, as their central figure; but one cluster, the Arthurian, is of genuine native growth, and possesses the highest interest of all. Translations and imitations of these French romances slowly came into popular favor with the English people, and aided in the fusion of the languages. Ballads. But the patriotic spirit of the common people was not fully satisfied in imitating foreigu poesy. Many spirited political songs of English origin, and ballads full of characteristic English satire were written. One of these ballads, The Owl and the Nightin- gale, in giving an amusing account of a competition in song between the two birds, furnishes perhaps the finest specimen of the popular literature of the thirteenth century, and is especially interesting as the earliest narrative and imaginative English poem not copied from some foreign model. Writings in the English tongue do not represent the entire intel- lectual wealth of the nation during this Anglo-Norman period ; indeed they form but a small portion. For almost three centuries after the Conquest, French continued to be the language of polite literature, and Latin the language oi" theology, philosophy, science and history. Many Englishmen were writing in these departments ; but they were contributors to a foreign, not to their national litera- ture. That national literature has now reached the eve of its Brat great expansion. It has been in existence for a thousand years, but has as yet produced no work of pre-eminent merit, no name that is entitled to rank among intellects of the highest order. Energy of thought and expression, natural sweetness and simple pathos, are not wanting; but there is still a complete absence of artistic form, literary skill, and the higher qualities of workmanship. Nothing appears to portend the magnificent outburst that is at hand; but the student of history can discern forces, political, social, and spiritual, at work beneath the smooth surface, destined within a few years to produce momentous results. The national GEOFFREY CHAIXCER. 39 life and thought of England are now passing through a quicken* ing process ; a brilliant page in her history is about to open, on which will appear many bright names, but none brighter than that of Geoffrey Chaucer, the first man who speaks to the hearts o/ tUl classes of the English people. In this chapter we have considered 1. The Middle English. 2. Layamou's Brut. 3. The Ormulum. 4. Poetical Romances, and Ballad** ! 1 CHAPTER IV. GEOFFREY CHAUCER. * I consider Chaucer as a genial day in an English spring. "'—Thomas Warton. " I take increasing delight in Chaucer. * * * How exquisitely tender he is, fet how perfectly free he is from the least touch of sickly melancholy or morbid drooping."— S T. Coleridge. 41 Here was a healthy and hearty man, so genuine that he need not ask whether he were genuine or no, so sincere as to quite forget his own sincerity, so truly pious that he could be happy in the best world that God chose to make, so human thai he loved even the foibles of his kind." " There is no touch of cynicism in all he wrote."— J. R. LoweU. THE fourteenth century is the most important epoch in the intellectual history of Europe. It is the point of contact between two widely-differing eras in the social. religious, and political annals of our race. Feudalism and chivalry had fulfilled their mission and were yielding to the pressure of ideas that foreshadowed the Revival of Letters and the Protestant Reformation. Of this great social transition from the old order to the new, the personal career and the works of Chaucer, the first great English poet, "the Father of English Poetry," furnish us with the most exact type and expression; for, like all men of the highest order of genius, he at once followed and directed the intellectual tendencies of his age, and was himself the "abstract and brief chroni- cle" of the spirit of his time. In the age in which he fived he was fortunate: the magnificent court of Edward 111. had carried the splendor of chivalry to the height of its development ; the victories of Sluys, of Crecy, ami Poitiers, by exciting the national pride, tended to fuse into CfiAtJCER. 41 one vigorous nationality the two elements which formed the English people and the English language. The litera ture, too, abundant in quantity, if not remarkable for orig- inality of form, was rapidly taking a purely English tone ; rhyming chronicles and legendary romances were composed in the vernacular. This tendency to make the English a literary langua'ge is indicated by the following quota- tion from the Testament of Love: "Let clerks indite in Latin, and the Frenchmen in their French also indite their quaint terms, for it is kindly to their mouths ; and let us show our fantasies in such words as we learned of our Mother's tongue." From the Norman Conquest until the time of Chaucer, the Latin had been used in England by those who wrote for the learned ; the French was the lan- guage of fashionable literature, and the English was writte* only for the ignorant. Meantime the native tongue had developed until Chaucer, the greatest literary genius which the nation had produced, saw in that tongue the best material for his literary art. He addressed all classes of readers, not in the vulgar speech of the populace, but in refined English as it was spoken at the Court. He was the first author who used the " King's English ; " and his success compelled all other writers in England to abandon the Latin and the French. His Personal Appearance. An ancient and probably authentic portrait of Chaucer, attributed to his contempo- rary and fellow-poet, Occleve, as well as a curious and beauti- ful miniature, introduced, according to the fashion of those times, intoone of the most valuable manuscript copies of his works, give the poet a pleasing and meditative counten- ance, and indicate that he was somewhat corpulent. In the prologue to The Rime of Sir Thopas, the host of the Tabard, himself represented as a " large man," and a " faire burgess," calls upon Chaucer in his turn to contribute a 1% CHAUCER. Btory to the amusement of the pilgrims, and rallies him on his corpulency, as well as on his studious and abstracted air : ** What man art thou f" quod he; " Thou lokest as thou woldest fynde an hare ; For ever on the ground I se the stare. Approche nerc, and loke merrily. Now ware you, sires, and let this man have space. He in the wast is schape as well as I ; He semeth elvisch by his countenance, For unto no wight doth he daliaunce. B. 1328.] Chaucer's Social and Political Career. The D. 1400.] date of Chaucer's birth is uncertain. There are reasons for fixing it at 1328, and yet others in favor of 1340. He is supposed to have been a child of wealth. His surname, the French Chaussier, points to a Continental origin, which at that time was almost a sure sign of aristocratic rank. He was " armed a knight," he held lucrative and responsible positions, he married one of the Queen's maids of honor. These facts indicate that he belonged to the higher classes of English society. But whatever his social position may have been,/his spirit was tolerant and generous ; he took broad views of life, and, having the soul of a poet, he loved nature and humanity. In the Testament of Love, Chaucer speaks of London as his birth-place. In his Court of Love he speaks of himself under the name and character of "Philogenet — of Cam" bridge, Clerk ;" but this hardly proves that he was educated at Cambridge. Indeed there is no positive proof that he was a student at either of the great universities. He was taken prisoner by the French in 1359, and being ransomed, aco Til- ing to the custom of those times, was enabled to return to England in 13G0. He next appears, in 1367, as one of the m valets of the king's chamber," and writs arc addressed to him as * dilectus valettus nosier." His official career was active and even distinguished ; during a long period, he enjoyed various CHAUCEB. 43 profitable offices, having been for twelve years comp- troller of the customs and subsidy of wools, skins, and tanned hides in the port of London ; and he seems also to have been occasionally employed in diplomatic negotiations. Thus he was, in 1373, associated with two citizens of Genoa in a commission to Italy. On this occasion he is supposed to have made the acquaintance of Petrarch, then the most illustrious man of letters in Europe. Partly in consequence of his marriage with a sister of the wife of John of Gaunt, and partly, perhaps, from sharing in some of the political and religious opinions of that powerful prince, Chaucer was identified with the household and with the party of the Duke of Lancaster. His Complaynte of the Black Knight, his Dream, and his Boke of the Duchesse were suggested to him, the first by the courtship of the duke and the duchess Blanche, the second by their marriage, and the third by her death in 1369. In the Dream, allusions to Chaucer's own courtship and marriage may be found. One of the most interesting particulars of his life was his election as repre- sentative for Kent in the Parliament of 1386. In the political turmoil of that year he lost all his offices. In 1389, however, he was appointed to the office of clerk of the king's works, which he held for about two years. There is reason to believe that, though his pecuniary cir- cumstances must have been, during a great part of his life, in proportion to the position he occupied in the state and in society, his last days were more or less clouded by financial embarrassment. His death took place at Westminster on the 25th of October, 1400. His Literary Career. The literary and intellectual career of Chaucer divides ^elf into two periods, closely corres- ponding to the two great social and political tendencies which meet in the fourteenth century. His earlier pro- ductions bear the stamp of the Chivalric, his later and more 44 CHATTCER. original creations, of the Italian literature. It is more than probable that the poet's visits to Italy, then the fountain of new literary life, brought him into contact with the works and the men by whose example the change in the taste oi Europe was brought about. The religious element, too, enters largely into the character of his writings. It is diffi- cult to ascertain how far the poet sympathized with the bold doctrines of Wycliife, who, like himself, was favored and protected by John of Gaunt, fourth son of Edward III. Many satirical passages in his poems indicate that in hos- tility to the monastic orders and in contempt for corrupt men in the church, he heartily sympathized with Wycliffe; but he probably did not accept the theological opinions of the man who was then considered the arch-heretic. Eight of Chaucer's longer poems are to be ascribed to a direct or indirect imitation of purely Komance models, while three fall naturally under the category of the Italian or Renaissance type. Of the former class the principal are the Romaunt of the Rose, the Court of Love, the Assembly of Fowls, the Cuchow and the Nightingale, the Flower and the Leaf, Chaucer's Dream, the Boke of the Duc/usse, and the House of Fame. Under the latter we must range the Legende of Goode Women, Troilus and Creseide, Atwhidu and Arcyte, and above all the Canterbury Talcs. Poems of the Chivalric Type. The Romaunt of the Rose is a translation of the famous allegory, L>e Roman de hi the most highly-prized specimen of the early French lit na- ture. The original is of inordinate length, containing twenty-two thousand verses, even in the unfinished state in which it was left. According to the almost universal prac- tice of the old Romance poets, the st^y is put into the Conn of a dream or vision. Chaucer's translation is but a third as long as the original. The portions omitted either never were translated by the BngliBh poet, on account of hia CHAUCER. 45 dislike to their immoral and irreligious tone, or were omitted by the copyist from the early English manuscripts. The translation gives proof of Chaucer's remarkable ear for metrical harmony, and also of his picturesque imagination ; for though in many places he follows the original with scrupulous fidelity, he not infrequently adds vigorous touches of his own. The most remarkable illustration of this is the description of the character of a true gentleman, not a hint of which can be found in the original.* The Court of Love, a typical poem of the age, is written in the name of " Philogenet of Cambridge, clerk " (or stu- dent), who is directed by Mercury to appear at the Court of Venus. He gives a, description of the Castle of Love, where Admetus and Alcestis preside as king and queen. Philo- genet is conducted to the Temple, sees Venus and Cupid, and hears the oath of allegiance to the twenty command- ments of Love administered to the faithful. The hero is then presented to the Lady Eosial, with whom, in strict accordance with Provencal poetical custom, he has become enamoured in a dream. The most curious part of the poem is the celebration of the grand festival of Love, on May-day, when a parody of the Catholic matin service for Trinity Sunday is chanted by various birds in honor of the God of Love. In the Assembly of Foivls we have a debate carried on before the Parliament of Birds. The Cuckow and the Nightingale, though of no great length, is one of the most charming among this class of Chaucer's productions: it describes a controversy between the two birds. To the poets and allegorists of the Middle Ages, the Cuckoo was the emblem of profligate celibacy, while the Nigh tingle was the type of constant and virtuous conjugal love. In tms poem we meet with a striking ex- ample of that exquisite sensibility to the sweetness of external * Lines 2187-2274. 46 CHAUCER. nature, and especially to the song of birds, which was pos- sessed by Chaucer in a pre-eminent degree.* The Flower and the Leaf is an allegory, probably written to celebrate the marriage of Philippa, John of Gaunt's daughter, with John, king of Portugal. A lady, unable to sleep, wanders out into a forest, on a spring morning, and seating herself in a delightful arbor, listens to the alternate songs of the goldfinch and the nightingale. Her reverie is suddenly interrupted by the approach of a band of ladies clothed in white, and garlanded with laurel and woodbine. They join their queen in singing a roundelay, and are in their turn interrupted by the sound of trumpets and by the appearance of nine armed knights, followed by a splendid train of cavaliers and ladies. These joust for an hour, and then advancing to the first company, each knight leads a lady to a laurel, to which they make an obeisance. Another troop of ladies approaches, habited in green, and doing rev- erence to a tuft of flowers, while the leader sings a pastoral song, in honor of the daisy. The sports are broken off, first by the heat of the sun, which withers all the flowers, and afterwards by a violent storm, in which the knights and the ladies in green are pitifully drenched ; while the company in white shelter themselves under the laurel. Then follows the explanation of the allegory : the white queen and her party represent Chastity; the knights, the Nine Worthies ; the cavaliers crowned with laurel, the Knights of the Round Table, the Peers of Charlemagne. and the Knights of the Garter. The Queen and ladies in green represent Flora and the followers of sloth and idle- ness. In general, the flower typifies vain pleasure ; the leaf, virtue and industry; the former being " a thing lading with every blast," while the latter " abides with the root, not- withstanding the frosts and winter sftrms." The poem is written in the seven-lined stanza, and contains many curious and beautiful passages. * See the inimitable paseago from lino 65 to line 85. CHAUCER. 47 Poems of the Italian Type. For its extraordinary union of brilliant description with learning and humor, the House of Fame is sufficient of itself to establish Chaucer's reputa- tion. Under the popular form of a dream, it gives a picture of the Temple of Glory, crowded with aspirants for immortal renown, and adorned with statues of great poets and historians. The description of this temple is the most interesting part of the poem? Its architectural details are carefully set forth, and its beauties are charmingly de- scribed. In richness of fancy it far surpasses Pope's imita- tion, the Temple of Fame. When the poet leaves the temple, he is, in his dream, borne away by an eagle to a house sixty miles in length, built of twigs and blown about in the wind. This is the House of Rumor, thronged with pilgrims, pardon- ers, sailors, and other retailers of wonderful reports. " And eke this hous hath of entrees As fell of leves as ben on trees, In somer whan they grene ben, And on the rove men may yet seen A thousand holes, and wel moo To leten wel the soune oute goo." The Legende of Goode Women was one of Chaucer's latest compositions. Its apologies for what had been writ- ten in his earlier years, and its mention of many of his pre- vious works, clearly prove that it was produced after much of his busy life was spent. The avowed purpose of the poem is to make a retraction of his unfavorable descriptions of the character of women ; and for this purpose he undertakes to give a poetical sketch of nineteen ladies, whose lives of chastity and worthiness redeem the sex from his former re- proaches. The work was left incomplete. The nine sketches given are closely translated from Ovid, but the coloring of the stories is Catholic and mediaeval. Dido, Cleopatra and Medea are regarded as the martyrs of Saint Venus and Saint Cupid. Many striking descriptions are introduced by Chaucer. The Prologue is by far the finest portion of the 48 THE CANTERBURY TALES. poem. Here, and everywhere in Chaucer, the rhythm is perfect when the verses are properly read. Chaucer's age placed his Troilus and Creseide nearest to the Canterbury Tales. The material for this poem was drawn from Boccaccio. The story was common, and ex- tremely popular in the Middle Ages, and even later. Shakespeare himself has dramatized it. In many passages Chaucer adhered closely to the text of Boccaccio ; but in the conduct of the story, in the development of ideal characters, and in a delicate appreciation of moral senti- ment, he was far superior to his Italian contemporary. The poem is written in the musical Italian stanza of seven lines. The Canterbury Tales. Chaucer's greatest and most original work is the Canterbury Tales (13).* It is in this that he has poured forth in inexhaustible abundance his stores of wit, humor, pathos, and knowledge of humanity : it is this which will place him, till the remotest posterity, in the first rank among poets and character-painters. The magical power of the poet evokes our ancestors from the fourteenth century, and causes them to pass before our vision "in their habit, as they lived," acting and speaking in a manner invariably true to nature. Its Plan. The plan of the Canterbury Tales, though very simple, is masterly. It enables the poet to make the repre- sentatives of various classes of society tell a series of tales. extremely beautiful when regarded as compositions and judged on their independent merits, but deriving an infi- nitely higher interest from the way in which they harmonise with their respective narrators. It also gives him opportunity to display his genius for descriptions of nature. After giving a brief, picturesque description of spring, the poel informs un that, being about to make B pilgrimage from London to the shrine of Thomas a Becket in the cathedral of Canterbury, *The heavy-faced figures throughout this work refer to selections from Skaw 1 * Choice Specimens of English Literature. THE CANTERBUKY TALES. 49 he passes the night previous to his departure at the Tabard Inn in South wark. While at the "hostelrie" he meets many pilgrims bound to the same destination : — " In Southwerk at the Tabard as I l*y, Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage To Canterbury with ful devout corage. At night was come into that hostelrie Wei nyne and twenty in a companye * Of sondry folk, by aveuture y-falle In felawschipe, and pilgryms were thei alle, That toward Canterbury wolden ryde." This goodly company, assembled in a manner so natural in those times of pilgrimages and of difficult and dangerous roads, agree to travel in a body; and at supper Harry Bailey, the host of the Tabard, a jolly and sociable fellow, proposes to accompany the party as a guide, and suggests that they may much enliven the tedium of their journey by relating stories as they ride. He is accepted' by the whole society as a judge or moderator, by whose decisions every one is to abide. The plan of the work, had Chaucer completed it, would have comprised the adventures on the journey, the arrival at Canterbury, a description, in all probability, of the splendid religious ceremonies and the visits to the numerous shrines and relics in the cathedral, the return to London, the farewell supper at the Tabard, and the sepa- ration of the pleasant company. The jovial guide proposes that each pilgrim shall relate two tales on the journey out, and two more on the way home ; and that, on the return of the party to London, he who shall be adjudged to have related the best and most amusing story, shall sup at the common cost. Such is the general plan of the poem, and its development is natural. Some of the stories suggest others, just as would happen in real life, under the same circumstances. In the inimitable description of manners, persons, dress, and all the equipage, with which the poet has * In his subsequent enumeration (see next page) Chaucer counts thirty persons. 50 THE CANTERBURY TALES. introduced them, we behold a vast and minute portrait gallery of the social England of the fourteenth century. The pilgrims are from all classes of society : — (1) A Knight; (2) A Squire; (3) A Yeoman; (4) A Prioress, a lady of rank, superior of a nunnery ; (5, 6, 7, 8) A Nun and three Priests, in attendance upon this lady ; (9) A Monk, represented as handsomely dressed and equipped, and passionately fond of hunting and good cheer ; (1 0) A Friar, or Mendicant Monk ; (11) A Merchant; (12) A Clerk, or Student of the University of Oxford ; (13) A Serjeant of the Law ; (14) A Franklin, or rich country gentleman; (15, 1G, 17, 18, 19) Five wealthy burgesses, or tradesmen, — a Haberdasher, or dealer in silk and cloth, a Carpenter, a Weaver, a Dyer, and a Tapisser, or maker of carpets and hangings; (20) A Cook, or rather the keeper of a cook-shop; (21) A Shipman, the master of a trading vessel ; (22) A Doctor of Physic; (23) A Wife of Bath, a rich cloth-manufacturer; (24) A Parson, or secular parish priest; (25) A Ploughman, the brother of the preced- ing personage; (2G) A Miller; (27) A Manciple, or stewa,. 1 . of a college or religious house; (28) A Reeve; (29) A Sompnour, or Sumner, an officer whose duty was to summon delinquents to appear in the ecclesiastical courts; (30) A Pardoner, or vendor of Indulgences from Home. To these thirty persons, must be added Chaucer himself, and the Host (ft the Tabard, making in all thirty-two. The Plan Not Executed. If each of these pilgrims had related two tales on the journey to Canterbury, and two on the return, the work would have contained one hundred and twenty-eight stories, exclusive of the* subordinate inci- denta and conversations; but the pilgrims do not arrive at their destination, and there are many evidences of confusion in the tales which Chaucer has given as, leading to the conclusion that the materials were not only incomplete, but also were left in a confused state by the poet In no instance THE CANTERBURY TALES. fl does he seem to have invented the intrigues of his stories* He freely borrowed them, either from the fabliaux of the Provencal poets, the legends of the mediaeval chroniclers,' from the storehouse of the Gesta Romanorum, or from the early Italian writers. The stories that we possess are twenty- five in number, — three of which, the Cook's, the Squire's, and Chaucer's first, are "left half told," and one, Gamelyn,* is either entirely spurious or written by the poet for a differ- ent purpose. Eleven of the pilgrims are left silent. A Canon and his Yeoman unexpectedly join the cavalcade during the journey, but it is uncertain whether this episode, which was probably an afterthought of the poet, takes place on the journey to or from Canterbury. The Canon, who is represented as an Alchemist, half swindler and half dupe, is driven away from the company by shame at his attendant's indiscreet disclosures ; and the Yeoman, remain- ing with the pilgrims, relates a most amusing story of the villainous artifices of the charlatans who pretended to possess the Great Arcanum. The stories narrated by the pilgrims are admirably introduced by what the author calls "prologues," consisting of remarks and criticisms on the preceding tale, and of incidents of the journey. The tales are all in verse, with the exception of two, that of the Parson, and Chaucer's second narrative. Those in verse exhibit an endless variety of metrical forms used with consummate ease and dexterity ; indeed, no English poet is more exquisitely melodious than Chaucer. Two Classes of Tales. The Tales themselves may be roughly divided into the two great classes of pathetic and humorous. We are filled with delight and admiration, whether we study their wonderful painting of character, the conciseness and vividness of their descriptions, the loftiness * The Cook's Tale of Gamelyn, if really written by Chaucer, was a close copy ol one of the ballad stories common among the people, and was perhaps intended to be related on the journey home. 52 THE CANTERBURY TALES. of their sentiment and the intensity of their pathos, or revel in the richness of their humor and the surpassingly droll, yet perfectly natural extravagance of their comic scenes. The finest of the pathetic stories are, the KnigMs Tale — the longest of them all, in which is related the adventure of Palamon and Arcite ; the Squire's Tale, a wild, half- Oriental story of love, chivalry, and enchantment ; the Man of Law's Tale, the beautiful and pathetic story of Con- stance ; the Prioress's Tale, the charming legend of " litel Hew of Lincoln," the child who was murdered for singing his hymn to the Virgin ; and, above all, the Clerk of Oxford's Tale, perhaps the most beautiful pathetic narration in the whole range of literature. This, the story of Griselda, the model and heroine of wifely patience and obedience, is the tenderest of all the serious narratives, as the Knight's Tale is the masterpiece among the descriptions of love and chivalric magnificence. The Knight's Tale is freely borrowed from the Theseida of Boccaccio. Though the action and personages of this noble story are assigned to classical antiquity, the senti- ments, manners, and feelings of the persons introduced arc those of chivalric Europe; the "Two Noble Kinsmen," Palamon and Arcite, being types of the knightly character. The Squire's Tale bears evident marks of Oriental origin ; but whether it be a legend derived from Eastern literature, or received by Chaucer after having filtered through a Romance version, is now uncertain. It is equal to the pre- ceding story in splendor and variety of incident and in word-painting, but far inferior in depth of pathos and elevation of sentiment; yet it was by the Squire's Tale t hat Milton cfiaracterized Chaucer in that passage of the Pense- roso where he evokes recollections of the great poet : — " Or call up him that left, half told The story of Cambuncan bold. Of Cambal, and of Al^xrsifc, Aud who had Cauace to wife The canterbury tales. 53 That owned the virtuous riug and glass ; And of the wondrous horse of brass On which the Tartar king did ride. The Man of Law's Tale is taken with little variation from Gower's voluminous poem, " Confessio Amantis" the inci- dents of Gower's narrative being in their turn traceable to a multitude of romances. The most pathetic of Chaucer's stories, that of Patient Griselda, narrated by the Clerk of Oxford, is traceable to Petrarch's Latin translation of the last tale in Boccaccio's Decameron. The finest of Chaucer's humorous stories are those of the Miller, the Reeve, and the Sompnour. Among these it is difficult to give the palm for drollery, acute painting of human nature, and exquisite ingenuity of incident. It is much to be regretted that the comic stories turn upon events of a kind which the refinement of modern manners renders it impossible to analyze; but it should be remem- bered that society in Chaucer's day, though perhaps not less moral in reality, was far more outspoken and simple, and permitted and enjoyed allusions which are proscribed by our sense of decency. Two of these tales, as has been stated, are written in prose. These deviations from what seems to have been the original plan, are very naturally made. When Chaucer is applied to by the Host, he commences a rambling, puerile romance of chivalry, entitled the Rime of Sir Thopas, which promises to be an interminable story of knight-errant adventures, combats with giants, dragons, and enchanters, and is written in the exact style and metre of the Trouvere narrative poems — the only instance of this versification in the Canter- bury Tales. He goes on gallantly " in the style his books of chivalry had taught him," like Don Quixote, " imitating, as near as he could, their very phrase ; " but he is suddenly interrupted, with many expressions of comic disgust, by the merrv host: — 54 THE CANTERBURY TALES. " * No mor of this, for Goddes dignitc ! * Quod our Hoste, ' for thou makest nie So wery of thy verray lewedneese, That, al so wisly God my soule blesse, Myn eeres aken for thy drafty speche. Now such a rym the (level I byteche ! This may wel be rym dogerel,' quod he." Chaucer took this ingenious method of ridiculing and caricaturing the Eomance poetry, which had reached the lowest point of the commonplace. Then, with great good- nature and a readiness which marks the man of the world, he offers to tell " a litel thing in prose ; " and commences the long allegorical tale of Melibeus and his -wife Pritdencs, in which, though the matter is often tiresome enough, he appears pre-eminent among the prose writers of his day. The other prose tale is narrated by the Parson. He is rep- resented as a simple and narrow-minded though pious and large-hearted pastor, who characteristically refuses to indulge the company with what can minister only to vain pleasure, and proposes something that may tend to edification, " mo- ralite and vertuous matiere" ; and so he commences a Ions and very curious sermon on the seven deadly sins, their causes and remedies. His discourse is an interesting specimen! of the theological literature of the day. It is divided and sob- divided with all the painful minuteness of scholastic divinity; but it breathes throughout a noble spirit of piety, and in many passages attains great dignity of expression. Besides these two Canterbury Tales, Chaucer wrote in prose a translation of Boethius's De Consolation?, an imita- tion of that work, under the title of The Testament of Love, and an incomplete astrological work, On the Aetrokti dressed to his son Lewis. The general plan of the Canterbury Talcs is believed to have been taken from the Decameron of Boccaccio, though the English poet's conception and method are superior to that of the Italian, whose ten accomplished young gentle- men and ladies assemble in their luxurious villa to eaoape from the terrible plague which is devastating Florence. CHAUCER. 55 Chaucer easily read. The difficulty of reading and un- derstanding Chaucer has been much exaggerated. The principal facts that the student should keep in mind are, that the many French words in his writings had not been so modified, by changes in their orthography and pronuncia- tion, as to become Anglicized, and are therefore to be read with their French accent; secondly, that the final e which terminates many English words is to be pronounced as a separate syllable, where the word following does not begin with a vowel or with the letter h ; and, finally, that the past termination of the verb, ed, is almost invariably to be made a separate syllable.* Some curious traces of the old Anglo- Saxon grammar are still retained, as the inflections of the personal and possessive pronouns, together with a few details of the Teutonic formation of the verb. * The following metrical division of the first twelve verses of The Prologui gives illustration of these peculiarities of accent and pronunciation : u Whan that | April | le with | his schow | res 6Woot | e, The drought | of Marche | hath per | ced | to | the root | e, And ba | thud eve | ry veyne I in suich | licour Of which | vertue | engen | dred is | the flour ; Whan Ze | phyrus | eek with | his swe | te breeth Enspi | rud hath | in eve | ry holte | and heeth The ten | dre crop | pes and | the yon | ge Sonne Hath in | the Ram | his hal | fe cours | i-ronne. And sma | le fow | les ma | ken rae | lodie That s'le | pen al | the night | with o | pen yhe, So prik | eth hem | nature | in here | corages :— Thanne Ion | gen folk to gon | on pil | grimages," &c. In these verses the French accent must be given to the words licour, vertue, nature, corages, in order to meet the requirements of the rhythm. When Chaucer used them they had not become Anglicized in pronu nciation. Aprille, swete, yonge, halfe, smale, have the final e pronounced as a separate syllable, for the words succeeding them do not begin with vowels nor with the letter h ; but in Marche, veyne, holte, nature, the final e is silent. Note.— The student will find special pleasure in studying the annotations to the Prologue and the Knighfs Tale, as edited by Dr. Richard Morris, in the Clarendon Press Series, Professor Carpenter's Literature of the XlVth Century, James Russell Lowell's essay on Chaucer, and an essay in the Westminster Review, published in July, 1866. 56 CHAUCEft. Many attempts have been made to reduce Chaucer's writ- ings to modern English, in order to introduce him to popular favor; but, to be thoroughly enjoyed, his writings must be read in their original diction. Distinguished poets have tried their skill in interpreting him, but with indifferent success. Wordsworth has adhered with tolerable fidelity to the language, and consequently to the spirit, of the origi- nal. His Cuckoo and Nightingale, Prioress's Tale, and Troilus and Cresida, retain much of Chaucer ; but the less sympathetic minds of Dryden and Pope, in attempting to improve his expression, have impaired his sentiment. In this chapter we have considered:— 1. Chaucer's personal appearance* 2. His social and political career, 3. J lis literary career. 4. His Romantic poetry. 5. His poems of the Italian type. 6. The Canterbury Talcs. 7. Their incomplete execution. 8. The two claM863 of talcs. 9. The ease with which Chaucer may be rea*l< CHAPTHfi ¥. THE CONTEMPORARIES OF CHAUCER EARE intellectual power is never monopolized by one man of a generation; it is held and displayed by a group of men. In literature a " bright particular star " does not shine forth unattended. Other stars accompany it, and shed a steady, though less brilliant, lustre over the literary firmament. Throughout the epochs of English as well as of classical literature, we find the great names grouped into distinct constellations around stars whose surpassing radiance, by attracting the gaze exclusively to them- selves, often makes us insensible to the real splendor of their humble companions. The Vision of Piers Ploughman. No writings — not even those of Chaucer himself— so faithfully reflect the popular feeling during the great social and religious movements of the fourteenth century, as the bitterly satirical poem, The Vision of Piers Ploughman. (11.) The deep-seated discontent of the Commons with the course of affairs in Church and State found a voice in this vigorous allegory. Among the imitations called forth by the popularity of the Vision are, the Greed of Piers Ploughman, and the Complaint of Piers Ploughman. They bear resemblance to the form and spirit of their model, but in style and execution they are of much lower order. Allusions in the Vision to the treaty of Bretigny, made in 1360, and to the great tempest of 1362, seem to fix the later year. or thereabouts, as the time of its composition ; and tradition assigns its authorship to William* Langlande, who is otherwise un- known. Two facts are clear from the work itself, — that the writer was a Churchman, and that he sympathized heartily with the rising * The author of this work is referred to as Robert, as William, and sometimes as John Langlande. He calls himself " William.'* 58 PIERS PLOUGHMAN. spirit of the laboring classes. In this work Piers Ploughman (or Peter the Ploughman) is an allegorical personage. The Latiu title more exactly conveys the nature of the Vision ; it is Visio WiUielnti de Pietro Ploughman — a vision seen by the author, who is here called William, concerning Peter, a ploughman, who is the personification of the peasantry of England. The dreamer, exhausted by his long wanderings, goes to sleep on the Malvern Hills, and soon becomes aware of a goodly company gathered before him in a field : — " A fair feeld ful of folk Fond I there bitwene. Of alle manere of men, The meene and the riche, Werchynge and wandrynge.'* He is somewhat puzzled at first to understand what all this may mean, when a lady, descending from a castle, announces herself as Holy Church, expounds to him the meaning of the scene that lies before him, and after leaving the key of the mystery with him, departs. The poet describes the various incidents that take place in this typical assembly, each of which shadows forth in simple allegory some move in the great game played by king, ecclesiastic, and noble. The work contains nearly fifteen thousand verses, arranged in twenty sections, so little connected with one another as to appear almost separate poems. Its prevalent tone is one of spirited satire, aimed against abuses and vices in general, but specially against the corruptions of the Church. The Greed of Piers Ploughman is supposed to have been written twenty-three years later than the Vision. Though an imitation of the earlier work, it differs from it in many important respects. In it Piers Ploughman is no longer an allegorical character, but son of the soil. The author, an ardent disciple of Wycliffe, attacks the doctrines as well as the discipline of the Church, and refrains from political satire. The Complaint of Purs Plo u ghaut ■/< is a mere fragment. These three works are without regularity in the Length of the lines, and without rhyme. They attempt to revive the use of alliteration, which was a distinctive feature of poetry in England previous to the introduction of rhymes by the Normans. This alliteration consists in such an arrangement and selection of the JOHN GOWEK. 59 words, that at least two of the most important words in the first line of a couplet, and at least one word in the second line, begin with the same letter. The opening verses of the Vision are given in illustration : * l In a somer seeon Whan softe was the sonne, I sAoop * me into s^roudes,t i As I a sheep t weere. " In Aahite as an Aeremite, UnAoly of workes, TPente toide in this world TFondres to here." The quaintness of this metrical device and the character ot the allegory indicate that the author was attempting to gain whatever advantage there might be in a return to the ancient English style of poetry. This poem attained great popularity when it was first printed and was effective in advancing the principles of the Refor- mation. [B, 1325 ?] John Gower. But the name most closely linked [D. 1408.] with Chaucer's is that of John Gower. During the greater part of their lives there was an intimate friendship between these two men. In their writings they gave each other fond praises. Chaucer dedicated Troilm and Creseide to " Moral Gower ; " and the first edition of the Confessio Amantis (12) compliments Chaucer highly. Gower's life was not so public, nor so full of vicissitudes, as his friend's. He was a man of wealth, and passed his years quietly in literary work. He seems to have enjoyed a dignified self-satisfac- tion in his compositions. His learning was extensive, and he was somewhat pedantic in its display. As the French was still the language of educated people in England, he used the alien tongue in the Speculum Meditantis, a work no longer to be found. When he undertook to describe the diseased condition of English society, he did not adopt his native speech, but, in the Vox Glamantis, gave utterance to his feelings in Latin verse. When Chaucer had shown the capabilities of English, Gower, in his blind old age, wrote the * Shaped. t Clothes, % Shepherd. 60 JOfiff GOWEft. Confessio Amaniis in that tongue. This work, though not his ablest, is by far the most interesting to us. It was undertaken at the request of Richard II., to whom, the poet says, •* Belongeth my legeaunce, With all mine heartes obeisaunce." The first edition contains the celebrated passage in which Venus represents Chaucer as her disciple and poet, and expresses a wish that in his " later age " he shall " sette an end to all his werke by writing the Testament of Love." A second edition differs from the first merely in the omission of this compliment, and in the intro- duction of a new prologue, which ignores the memory of Richard, and dedicates the work with " entire affection " to Henry IV. The poem consists of eight books, in addition to the Prologue ; one on each of the seven deadly sins, and another on the subject of philosophy generally. It is a collection of stories, strung together on a plan much inferior to Chaucer's. This poem has a certain charm for congenial minds ; but its excellences, such as they are, are balanced by many defects. It is tedious, overlaid with pedantry to a wearisome extent, and utterly without Chaucer's humor, pas- sion, and love of nature. The author, while deploring the state of society in his time, and the offences of men in high place, is yet a stout supporter of the old order of things. His popularity with the cultivated classes continued for many generations. James of Scotland, in the fifteenth century, describes him and Chaucer as * Superlative as poetis laureate, In moralitie and eloquence ornate; " and Shakespeare, in the sixteenth century, not only borrows from him the materials of " Pericles," but also brings him upon tli< as chorus to that play. PROSE LITERATURE IN THE TIME OF CHAUCER. The most meritorious writer of English prose in Chaucer's time Was Chancer himself] but his rare powet in this department has PROSE IN THE TIME OF CHAUCER. 61 been eclipsed by his transcendent genius as a poet. Of those writers whose fame depends on prose works alone, the chief are Mandeville and Wycliffe. Sir John Mandeville (1300-1372), who is sometimes erroneously called the father of English prose, published his well-known volume )f travels in 1356. Mr. Hallam calls this our earliest English book. It professes to be an authentic account of what the author saw on his travels through the most distant countries of the East, and was intended to be a guide for those who made pilgrimages to Jerusa- lem. A collection of marvelous tales which he has recorded, are worthy only of being classed with the adventures of Baron Mun- chausen. The style, however, is straightforward and unadorned, and may still be read with little difficulty. The work was exceed- ingly popular in its time, for it gave accounts of strange peoples and countries about which Englishmen had never heard. In his Prologue, Mandeville recognizes the confusion of the language of literature, and says that he has " put this boke out of Latyn into Frensche, and translated it again into Englyssche, that every man of my nation may understand it." B. 1324.] John Wycliffe. No name of the time will be longer D. 1384.] remembered than that of John Wycliffe, who first gave a complete copy of the Scriptures to the English people in the English tongue. This remarkable man, of almost equally great importance in the literary and in the political history of his nation, studied at Oxford, and rose to considerable academi- cal and ecclesiastical preferments. His life was marked by many vicissitudes. After having been alternately supported and aban- doned by men of great influence, he closed his life peacefully at his Lutterworth parsonage. It was here, after his enemies had driven him from his chair at Oxford, that he commenced his great trans- lation, which is said to have been finished about the year 1380.* The influence exerted by this work upon our language cannot be overrated. Translated, as it was, from the Latin Vulgate, it makes the Latin the principal source of our theological vocabulary. * A priest named Hereford assisted Wycliffe, and is believed to have been the translator of the work as far as Baruch, in the Apocrypha. The remainder of the work is attributed to Wycliffe. 62 PE08E IN THE TIME OF CHAUCER. Wycliffe was the first eminent scholar who used the English tongue in attacking the ecclesiastical system. He was the fore- runner of the Reformation. His sermons and polemical writings must be studied by those who would form a just notion of the highest intellectual power exerted at that time. In this chapter we have considered s- The contemporaries of Chaucer : J. Langlande and his vision, 2* John Goiver. 3. Sir John Mandeville* 4. John Wycliffe. CHAPTEH ¥J. FROM CHAUCER TO SPENSER. TT1HE first great manifestation of English intellectual powel 1 terminated with the death of Chaucer. A period of decay followed, in which there was no display of literary genius. For more than a hundred and fifty years not a man of eminent intellect appeared. But the invention of printing and the revival of learn- ing remind us that, though singularly deficient in great men, the time was by no means barren in results. The spiritual activities of the nation were gathering themselves for another marvelous out- burst. Three disciples of Chaucer, Occleve, Lydgate, and James I. of Scotland, have made their names worthy of mention as writers of verse in the first half of the fifteenth century. In the finest passage of his best attempt at poetical composition, Occleve bewails the death of his master, Chaucer,* and, but for the simple earnestness of that lament, there would be nothing in his literary work to command our esteem. "R 1 ^7ft 21 John Lydgate's writings were in high repute in his own century. He furnished poetical compositions for D. l£oU .J entertainments given by companies of merchants for May-day and Christmas festivals, for the pageants provided by the corporation of the City of London, and for the masks before the * " But wel away ! so is mine herte" wo That the honor of English tongue is dede, Of which I wont was have counsel and rede 1 O mayster dere and fadir reverent, My mayster Chaucer, floure of eloquence, Mirrour of fructuous endendement, O universal fadir in science, Alas that thou thine excellent prudence In thy hed mortel mighteste not hequethe ! What eyled Death ? Alas 1 why would he sle t«*> 64 JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND. king. Two hundred and fifty-one of these productions attributed to the prolific versifier, indicate in what esteem he was held by his own generation. For nearly fifty years this monk was the most popular English poet. His best known productions are the Story of Thebes, the Destruction of Troy, and the Fall of Princes. The first, a translation from Statius, a Latin poet of the first century, is given as an additional Canterbury Tale, told by Lydgate, who represents himself as having met Chaucer's pilgrims at an inn in Canterbury, and as having been allowed to return to London in their company. The Fall of Princes is a translation from Boccaccio, and contains the famous reference to his k> maister Chaucer," " the lode-sterre of our language." The Destruction of Troy, a transla- tion from a Latin prose romance, is a poem of interest, as it por- trays many features of the social life of the fifteenth century. But the most brilliant poet of the fifteenth century is James L (1394-1436) of Scotland. In 1405, when but eleven years old, he was captured on his way from Scotland to France, and was taken to the English court. Henry IV. and his successors detained him as a prisoner for nineteen years. Happy results for himself and for his nation followed from this captivity. Adversity developed those sterling qualities of character which made him the most eminent king of the Stuart line; and the loneliness of his earlier years prompted him to seek and gain that literary culture which has made his name famous in the world of letters. In the last year of his imprisonment he wrote his best work, the King's Quair (a quire, or book) (18), a poetical record of incidents in his life, and especially of his winning his queen, Jane Beaufort, grand- daughter of John of Gaunt. From the window of his prison he caught a glimpse of " The fairest or the f reediest young floure," as she walked with her attendants " under the Toure.'' The poem contains nearly fourteen hundred lines, describing his hope3 and despairs, the sudden appearance of the beautiful vision of peerless loveliness, and the happy ending of his courtship. No poem of ?qual merit was produced in the long interval between Chaucer ind Spenser. It is distinguished by tenderness of expression, and by a manly delicacy of feeling. This poets adoption of the Chaucerian stanza has given to that stanza the name of rhyme royal, WILLIAM CAXTOH. 65 Besides these three, not a respectable versifier appeared in Eng- land during the fifteenth century; and these three are professed disciples of Chaucer. His influence over them is shown in the very stanza in which they wrote. William Caxton. To William Caxton (1412-1491), England owes her early participation in the benefits arising from the art of printing — the greatest invention of modern times. This inven- tion, which was nothing more than the use of movable types in place of the old engraved wooden blocks, is now generally be- lieved to have been made by John Gutenburg, of Mentz. He conceived the plan about 1438, but on account of poverty was unable to put it into execution until twelve years afterwards, when he met with John Fust, a wealthy merchant, by whose assistance he brought out in 1455 the first printed book, the Latin Bible long known as the Mazarin. The art was introduced into England by Caxton. His printing-press was set up at Westminster, 1474.] and its first work, the Game of the Chesse, appeared in 1474. From that time until his death in 1491, Caxton labored assiduously at his vocation, giving to the world sixty-four books. The majority of his publications were in English, consisting partly of translations and partly of original works. Many of these trans- lations are from the printer's own pen. To other books he added prefaces of his own composition, so that he is fairly entitled to a place, though not a very high one, among English authors (26). The Paston Letteks, the earliest collection of the kind in the language, form a regular series, extending from 1424 until 1509, and are so numerous that they filled five volumes on their first publica- tion. By far the greatest number are written either by or to mem- bers of the Paston family. The collection is of great historical importance, not only from the light it throws upon some of the dark passages of English history, but also from the valuable illus- trations it supplies of the domestic manners and modes of thought and action that prevailed in the fifteenth century. The inner life of the period is laid open before us ; its character and spirit are revealed to us through the very thoughts and words of men then living. The early part of the sixteenth century was marked by some 66 JOHN SKELTON. improvements in our literature, although it produced no poet of special merit. The Pastime of Pleasure, by Stephen Hawes, a favorite of Henry VII., is a dull allegorical poem ; and Alexander Barclay's Ship of Fools is merely a translation of the once cele- brated satire of Sebastian Brandt. These works, though of little value in themselves, attest the marked progress that versification was making towards grace and harmony ; and in this respect they indicate an approach to the manner of Spenser and Shakespeare. John Skelton (1460-1529) was the most prolific versifier of this period. He represents the spirit of revolt then prevalent against ecclesiastical arrogance and authority. (21) Skelton was himself a member of the clerical profession. We have the testi- mony of Erasmus, then a resident in England, to his eminence as a scholar and man of letters. His bitter tongue, however, is said to have drawn down upon him the wrath of Cardinal Wolsey, from which he was obliged to take refuge in the Sanctuary at West- minster, where he died in 1529. His Latin poems evince much classical elegance. His serious efforts in English are exceedingly heavy and tedious ; but his satiric writings, coarse and nilgai as they are, show so much force and spirit that they still retain some degree of popularity. The peculiar doggerel measure in which his satiric works are composed, and his use of the familiar speech of the people, have attracted to him a degree of attention to which his intrinsic merits by no means entitle him. He has perfectly described and exemplified the character of his "breatheless rhymes " in the following passage : — " For though my rime be ragged, Tattered and jailed, Rudely raine beaten, Rusty and moth-eaten, If ye take wel therewith, It hath in it pooM pith." Jlis principal attacks upon Wolsey are found in the Beckt / Oolin Ohut) Why come ye not to Count and the Bmiffi qf Court (/. «., Bouche d Court, diet allowed at court). Notwithstanding the admiration that is often expressed for this writer, his satirical compositions hardly rise above the dignity of lampoons. "His WYATT AND SURREY. 67 learning," in the opinion of Mr. Marsh, " certainly did little for the improvement of his English style ; and we may say of his diction in general, that all that is not vulgar is pedantic." Throughout his writings he seems to delight in alluding to the laurel, or degree in verse, conferred upon him at Oxford. The Early Scotch Poets. During the latter part of the fifteenth and the first years of the sixteenth century, Blind Harry, Robert Henryson, Gawin Douglas, and William Dunbar* flourished. It is to Scotland and to these men that we look for the best English poetry during the time when the poets of England were in a state of torpor. They were the successors of James I. of Scotland, and the only men in the two generations before Surrey, whose song is worthy of mention. Poetry in the first half of the Sixteenth Century. The poems of Wyatt and Surrey, though inferior to Skelton's works in force and vivacity, are superior in grace and elegance. They give the earliest indications of the dawn of the brightest day that English literature has seen. Although unequal in merit, they possess so much in common, and there is such marked similarity in their manner, that their names are closely associated.! The higher place is invariably assigned to the younger, Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1517-1547), whose early, unmerited death on the scaffold, has deepened the romantic interest that surrounds his name (23, 24). His contributions to poetry are not very extensive, but are of considerable importance, as well from their excellence as from the new metrical form and style in which many of them are written. * Mr. Craik says that " this admirable master, alike of serious and of comic song, may justly be styled the Chaucer of Scotland, whether we look to the wide range of his genius, or to his eminence in every style over all the poets of his country who preceded aud all who for ages came after him. Burns is certainly the only name among the Scottish poets that can yet be placed on the same line with that of Dunbar ; and even the inspired ploughman, though the equal of Dunbar in comic power, and his superior in depth of passion, is not to be compared with the older poet either in strength or in general fertility of imagination." t " Henry, Earl of Surrey, and Sir Thomas Wyat, between whom I flnde very little difference, I repute them for the two chief lanternes of light to all others that have since employed their pennes upon English Poesie ; their conceits were loftie, their stiles stately, their conveyance cleanly, their termes proper, their metres eweete and well proportioned."— Puttenham, 1589. 68 WY ATT AND SURREY. To Surrey we owe two great literary innovations — the intro- duction of the sonnet, and the use of polished blank verse— and he was the first to write in that involved style, which so strikingly distinguishes the language of Shakespeare from that of Chaucer. A version of the second and fourth books of the iEneid, in what Milton called "English heroic verse without rhyme," numerous sonnets on many subjects, chiefly amatory; a satire on the citizens of London, together with paraphrases of Ecclesiastes and some of the Psalms, constitute the main portion of his writings. The fanciful theories of some later editors have attached an undue significance to his connection with "the fair Geraldine," in whose honor many of his best sonnets were written, Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542), though fourteen years older than his friend, is generally regarded as his poetical disciple ; but he is undoubtedly a poet of a much lower type (22). He, too, com- posed many songs and sonnets on the one inexhaustible topic — love. His satires and his metrical versions of the Penitential Psalms supply an additional point of resemblance between himself and Surrey. In both, the highly beneficent influences of an ac- quaintance with Italian literature are manifest; influences which affected the entire structure and spirit of English poetry for more than a century, imparting to it a smoothness and melody unknown before, without impairing in the slightest degree its native strength and manliness of tone. Their collected works were first published ten years after Surrey's death. English Ballads. The stirring English ballads belong to the close of the fifteenth century. Their language is simple, their verse rude, their thoughts rugged ; they are full of sympathy for the outlaw, yet they have a charm for those who delight in the expressions of simple-hearted human nature. They wore com posed, nearly all of them, in this comparatively barren period of English literature, between the time of Chaucer and the time of Spenser. Anarchy in the state, tyranny, ami the constant warfare waged along the Scottish Border, were among the causes which stirred the rude poets to a recital of their loves and hatreds. Tradition saved these compositions tor us. They were not gathered into a volume until the latter part of the eighteenth century, when Bishop Percy brought them together, thinking that they might fur- OLD ENGLISH BALLADS. 69 msh material for missing chapters in the history of our language. As we read his Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, the old minstrels place us under a spell, and, for the time, make us forgetful of the fascination of the modern poets. We are transported back to the days of rude life in England. We sup, and watch, and fight, and love with the brave, lawless yeomen. Strive as they may, our poets of a nobler civilization cannot produce companion-pieces to the Ancient Ballad of Chevy Chase, or to Adam Bell, Clym of the dough, and William of CloudesUy. "Young Lochinvar" and "Sheridan's Ride'' are spirited, but they do not approach the old ballads in graphic terseness, in poetic simplicity, in fiery fervor, in tenderness of pathos. The reproduction of such poetry is pre- vented by the civilization of this age. Law, not lawlessness, is honored now. Personal prowess, reckless daring, are dangerous to society in this day ; they gave protection to little bands in the English wood; they received the grateful applause of men who lived amid the perils of the Scottish Border. It was the hardi- hood of this age that produced the old ballads. Many of them appear in two forms: the early genuine verses in their original rudeness, and a later edition, in which some versifier has endeavored to smooth and polish their crudities. These attempts at improve- ment invariably dissipate the energy of the original. To appre- ciate the spirit of these poems, they should be read in the earlier forms. For example, the familiar Ballad of Chevy Chase is an attempt at improving an old ballad; yet the old song (32) is superior in vigor, in vivacity, and is far more inspiring to the fancy. A few stanzas may illustrate its energy : " The Perse ovvt* of Northombarlande,t And a vowe to God mayd he, That he wolde hunte in the mountayns Off chyviat within) dayes thre, In the mauger§ of doughti Doglas, And all that ever with him be. " The fattiste hartes in all cheviat He sayd he wold kill and cary them away ; ' Be my feth,' sayd the doughti Doglas agayn, I wyll let || that hontyng yf that I may.' * Came out. t The land north of the Humber. % During. | In spite of. II Hinder. 70 SIR THOMAS MORE. 44 Then the Persd owt of Banborowe cam. With him a myghtye meany,* With fifteen hundrith arch arcs hold ; The wear chosen out of shyars t thre." There follows a description of the foray, beginning on a Monday morning, of the scattering of the huntsmen, of the gathering and dressing of the deer, of the alert watchers, of the oncoming of Douglas and his men, of the brave parley before the fight, of the onset, of the bloody death of the two leaders, and of the unyielding struggle until the sun went down with the battle not yet over. The woe of bereaved women is touchingly depicted ; and then the poem closes as boldly and as bluntly as it began. It was of this ballad that Sir Philip Sidney said, " I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas, that I found not my heart more moved than with a trumpet." The minstrelsy of the border counties has greater energy than that of the southern provinces of England. B. 1480.] Prose-writers in the first half of the Sixteenth D. 1535. J Century. Sir Thomas More stands pre-eminent among the English prose-writers of his time. He was a man of profound scholarship, of earnest piety, and of irrepressible good-humor. When he was yet in his youth it was said of him, M There is but one wit in England, and that is young Thomas More." The progressive scholars of the day applauded him when he appeared, against desperate opposition, as a champion for the introduction of the study of Greek into the universities of England. The eminent Erasmus was his devoted and admiring friend. He gained one position after another as a servant of the state, until he reached the bench of the Lord Chancellor. P>ui when he ventured to thwart the purposes of Henry VIII. by refusing to acknowledge the validity of that monarch's marriage so Anno Boleyn, neither the eminence of his position nor his former intimacy with the king could save him from a cruel death. Disaster did not disturb his serene good-humor.J Disgrace, imprisonment, ami • A strong company. t Shires. X " On the eve i»f the fajal blow he moved his beard carefully from the block. 'Pity that should be CUt, 1 lie was heard to mutter with I touch of the old, sad irony, ' that has never committed treason.' " SIE THOMAS MORE. 71 threatening danger were brightened by bis genial wit ; and even aa he climbed the scaffold to bow beneath the headsman's axe, he gayly said, " I pray you see me safe up ; and for my coming down let me shift for myself." Sir Thomas More's fame as a writer rests upon two works. The one most remarkable, on account of its literary style, is his Life of Edward F., a work pronounced by Mr. Hallam u the first example of good English language — pure and perspicuous, well chosen, without vulgarisms or pedantry." But his best known work, the Utopia, written in Latin, is known to most modern readers through Burnet's translation. The work is full of fancy and invention. It is a romantic description of the ideal state of a republic on an island, where the laws and social and political usages are in strict accordance with philosophical perfection. Many of its suggestions are far in advance of* the author's time. Every house has its spacious garden; every citizen understands agriculture, and is expert at some trade ; six hours of work, no more no less, is allowed. There are no taverns in that happy land ; and change of fashion, frivolity, cruelty, and wars are unknown. Utopia, the name of the republic, signifies " No land " (ov roTtog). More's other works are not numerous. They are controversial, and are expressions of his ardent attachment to the Roman Catholic religion. Tradition assigns him a place among the most eminent of English orators. Lord Berners's translation of Froissart's " Chronicle," pub- lished in 1523, should be mentioned among the best English prose writings of the early part of the sixteenth century. The development of historical literature is by successive stages. Its earliest expression in the ancient as well as in the modern world, is legendary, and its form is poetical. The legends are succeeded by chronicles, and after ages of civilization the chronicles furnish the historian with the rude materials for his work. Thus, in the development of our historical literature, we have fabulous British legends, the chronicles of the monk and the trouvere, the systematically compiled narrative, and the philosophi- cal treatise of the modern historian. In the pages of Robert Fabyan and of Edward Hall we find the first attempts made by English writers at a studied literary discussion of past events. Fabyan, an alderman and sheriff of London, gathers the mythical, 72 WILLIAM TYNDALE. semi-mythical, and authentic events of English history, and re- duces them to a regular narrative, called the Concordance of Historyes. Hall, a judge in the same city, under the title of the Union of the Two Noble and. Illustrate Families of York and Lancastre, gives a history of England under these two royal families, and down to the year 1532. These writings, though totally devoid of any pre- tensions to history in the genuine sense of the word, are valuable, not only as storehouses of facts for modern narrators, but also as monuments of the language, and as examples of the popular sym- pathies of the time. The Toxophilus of Roger Ascham (1515-1568), published in 1545, was written to revive decaying interest in the use of the bow, and is distinguished by quiet dignity of style and manliness of spirit. It is composed in the form of a dialogue between Philo- logus and Toxophilus. Eighteen years afterwards, when tutor to Queen Elizabeth, this same author brought out his more im- portant work, The Schoolmaster, which is still valuable for the principles and rules of teaching therein expounded. For a learned man to write a scholarly book in the English language, at the mid- dle of the sixteenth century, was a startling innovation, and there- fore Ascham presents the following apology in the preface of his work : — " As for the Latin or Greek tongue, everything is so excellently done in them that none can do better; in the English tongue, con- trary, everything in a manner so meanly, both for the matter and handling, that no man can do worse He that will write well in any tongue must follow the counsel of Aristotle, to Speak as the common people do, to think as wise men do, as SO should every man understand him, and the judgment of wise men allow him." Tyndale's Version of the Scriptures. More than a century had passed since Wycliffe made his translation of the Bible. Meanwhile the language had so changed that WyelihVs version was intelligible to bul few BngliA readers. There was great de- mand for a printed Bible. Englishmen wished to read the book for themselves. The nation was agitated upon reli- B. 1477?1 gioUB subjects, and was on the verge of the Heforma- D. 1536.] tion. William Tyndale, burning with the desire feo put the Word of CJod within the reach of the hum- WILLIAM tYNDALE. 73 blest of his countrymen, set himself to the work of translating the New Testament from the Greek. After many discouragements his work was accomplished, and the first edition was printed at Cologne and Worms in 1525. Its publication was hailed with delight. Threats and severe penalties could not prevent men from selling and buying it. The King of England frowned, the Church pronounced its curses; but all in vain, for the people were deter- mined to possess the book. Knowing that persecution and death would stop his working, should he return to his own country, Tyndale remained on the Continent. He was diligently translating the Old Testament. The Five Boohs of Moses and An English Version of the Book of Job were completed by him. At last he was treacherously delivered to officers who were searching for him, and, after eighteen months of imprisonment, he was tried at the Castle of Vilvoord, near Brussels, was convicted of heresy, was strangled and burned at the stake. In the agony of dying he gave expression to the faith which had prompted his earnest efforts, as he prayed, "O Lord, open the King of England's eyes 1" All critics accord praise to the literary excellence of Tyndale's work. His language is pure and simple. His style is energetic. He has done more than any other to establish our idioms and our diction. All English translators of the Bible since his day have imitated him closely. In his Lectures on the English Language, Professor Marsh says, — " Tyndale's translation of the New Testament is the most im- portant philological monument of the first half of the sixteenth century, perhaps I should say of the whole period between Chaucer and Shakespeare, both as a historical relic, and as having more than anything eise contributed to shape and fix the sacred dialect, and establish the form which the Bible must permanently assume in an English dress." 1535.] Miles Coverdale, Bishop of Exeter, has the glory of publishing the first printed copy of the whole Bible. It lacks the simplicity and energy of Tyndale's version. By this time the popular demand for the Scriptures, and the impossibility of suppressing their publication, forced Henry VIII. to name an authorized version. It* appeared in 1537, bearing the fictitious name of Thomas Matthews as its translator. John Rogers, the "proto-martyr," who had been a co-worker with 74 WILLIAM TYKDALE. JTyndale, was the real translator. In 1539, " The Great Bible " vas issued, intended for use in the churches ; and in the follow- ing v< ar, without alteration, save that of a preface by Archbishop Cranmer, it appeared as the only authorized Scriptures of the English Church. From " Cranmer's Bible " were taken the passages of Scripture used in the English Prayer-Book. King James's Version of the Scriptures. The common Eng- lish version of the Scriptures, the most remarkable of Bible transla- tions, was made by a company of forty-seven scholars who did tlnir work at the request of King James I. The version was published in 1611. In this chapter we have considered: — 1. The Period from Chaucer to Spenser* 2. William Ca.rton and John She/ton. 3. The Early Scotch Poets. 4. Poetry in the first half of the Sixteenth Centura. 5. English Hal I ads. 6*. Prose-writers in the first half of the Sixteenth Centura — Sir Thomas More. 7. The Development of Historical Literature* 8. Tijnduh's Version of the Scriptures* 9. Miles Co re ra 'a le. 10. King James's Version of the Scriptures. CHAPTHH VII. THE NON-DRAMATIC ELIZABETHAN POETS. "rpHE ELIZABETHAN AGE "is marked by features which I , give it peculiar distinction in the history of the literary world. The language had just reached its thorough development. Thought was rejoicing in a recent and sudden emancipation. The writers were men of originality and of high intellectual culture, who found the ancient and foreign literatures filled with materials and imagery which had not yet had time to become commonplace for English readers. They united freshness and dignity in their poetry and in their prose. The art of printing, just made available, enabled them to address the people. The literary activity begun in the reign of Elizabeth was carried on through the reign of James I. But the progress of this age was not in literature alone. There was an awakening of the people to general social improvement. Life was recognized as worth enjoying, and its enjoyment was found in a new way of living. Comforts were invented and used.* * Holinshed, writing at the beginning of Elizabeth's reign, says: ■* There are old men yet dwelling in the village where I remain which have noted three things to be marvellously altered in England within their sound remembrance. One is the multitudes of chimneys lately erected ; whereas in their young days, there were not above two or three, if so many, in the most uplandish towns of the realm (the religious houses and manor places of their lords always excepted, and peradventure some great personage) ; but each made his fire against a reredosse in the hall, where he dined and dressed his meat. The second is the great amendment of lodging ; for said they, ' our fathers and we ourselves have lain full oft upon straw pallets, covered only with a sheet, under coverlets made of dogswaine, and a good round log under their heads instead of a bolster.' .... As for servants, if they had any sheet above them it was well, for seldom had they any under their bodies to keep them from the pricking straws that ran oft through the canvass and rased their hardened hides. The third thing they tell us of is the exchange of treene platters (so called, I suppose, from tree or wood) into pewter, and wooden spoons into silver or tin. For so common were all sorts of treene vessels in old time, that a man should hardly find four pieces of pewter (of which one was perad- venture a salt) in a good farmer's house." 76 THOMAS SACKVILLE. Houses were built upon improved plans. There was wonderful improvement in the use of materials. In this startling age the national mind was interested in questions of state. For the first time the average Englishman was using his brain. Society was active, thoughtful, aspiring; and its influence upon those who had genius for letters was stimulating. The writers who shine in the literary splendor of the Elizabethan age were the natural product of the newly awakened, thoughtful English nation of that day. The first name that gains a lasting distinction is that of Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst, (1536-1608). After winning much applause for his share in the composition of a tragedy, he planned a work entitled A Mirror for Magistrates. It was to narrate in verse a series of tragic stories drawn from the history of England ; and these stories were to serve as lessons of virtue, and as warnings to future kings and statesmen. Other, and dreary poets carried out the details of Sackville's ingenious plan. In 1559 the first edition of the work appeared. Other editions followed, each suc- ceeding one containing new contributions of verse, until the sixth edition, published in 1571, was of enormous bulk. Although the work was admired in its own day, it has not sufficient poetical merit to attract the attention of the modern reader. Sackville himself wrote the Induction (the introduction) and the Oowtpkrint of Henry, Duke of Buckingham; and by these parts he saved the work from utter stupidity. These poetic passages were written in his early life, and they are all that he has contributed to literature. They till but a small place on the printed page, vet they are so far superior to what was written by the contemporaneous poets of his early life, that we may appropriately style him herald of the splen- dors of the Elizabethan Literature. After his early manhood all his years were crowded with the cares of state. Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586) exerted a potent influence over the spirit of his age. The qualities of his character commanded the loving respect of all men. His tastes were scholarly, bifi love for virtue was intense, he was magnanimous, he had heroic traits, and after living nobly he died a hero. His definition of gentle- manliness — " high erected thoughts seated in a heart of court might he pronounced the fitting description of his manliness, hi his own time and until the present day he has been regarded as the model English gentleman. The charm of his lite has led to an SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 77 over-estimate of the worth of his writings. His contributions to our literature consist of a small collection of sonnets called Astrophel and Stella (44) ; a prose romance entitled The Countes* of Pembroke's Arcadia; and A Defence of Poesy (55.) The sonnets have a languid elegance. The Arcadia, full of the spirit of chiv- alry, though it would be tedious to the devoted reader of Scott or Dickens, was popular in the days of Shakespeare, and was the most charming of books to the people of leisure and fashion in the first half of the seventeenth century. Sidney's Defence of Poesy is the work on which his fame in literature now rests. It is an attempt to set forth the worth of the poet, and was written in opposition to the doctrine of the radical Puritans of that day, who, in their fanatical zeal, denounced whatever contributed to a taste for the beautiful. EDMUND SPENSER. *' Onr sage and serious Spenser.' 1 — Hilton. M Milton has acknowledged to me that Spenser was his original.'" — Dryden. "There is something in Spenser that pleases one as strongly in one's old age «u* it did in one's youth/ 1 — Pope. 44 Do you love Spenser ? I love him in my heart of hearts." — Southey. 44 The poetry of Spenser is remarkable for brilliant imagination, fertile invention, and flowing rhythm ; yet with all these recommendations, it is cold and tedious." — Chateaubriand. " Spenser seems to me a most genuine poet, and to be justly placed after Shake- ppeare and Milton, and above all other English poets.' 1 — Mackintosh. 41 We must not fear to assert, with the best judges of this and former ages, that Spenser is still the third name in the poetical literature of our country, and that he has not been surpassed, except by Dante, in any other. 11 — Hallam. ,4 Among the numerous poets belonging exclusively to Elizabeth's reign, Spenser stands without a class and without a rival There are few eminent poets in the language who have not been essentially indebted to him.' 1 — Campbell. " One unpardonable fault, the fault of tediousness, pervades the whole of the Faerie Queene. We become sick of cardinal virtues and deadly sins, and long for the society of plain men and women. Of the persons who read the first canto, not one in ten reaches the end of the first book, and not one in a hundred persevere* to the end of the poem.' 1 — Macauiay. 78 SPENSER. " But eome people will pay that all this (the Faerie Queene) may he very fine, hut they cannot understand it on account of the allegory. They are afraid of the alle- gory, as if they thought it would bite them ; they look at it as a child looks at a dragon, and think it will strangle them in its shining folds. This is very idle. If they do not meddle with the allegory, the allegory will not meddle with them. Without minding it at all, the whole is as plain as a pike-6taff.'' , — Hazlitl. T I HE pnly non-dramatic poet of the Elizabethan age who J- could rank by the side of the best poets of this cen- tury was the illustrious Edmund Spenser. After B. 1553.] the long and dreary interval of nearly two D. 1599.] centuries, he appeared as the worthy successor to Chaucer. He was born in London about 1553. During his youth he lived in humble circumstances. He was edu- cated at the University of Cambridge. After acquiring much genuine culture at the university, he began his bril- liant and unhappy career as a man of letters. Two years were spent in the north of England, where he wrote the Shepherd's Calendar, finding in its composition some solace for his grief and disappointment as a lover.* At Cambridge he had formed an intimate friendship with Gabriel Harvey, a man of learning and of considerable literary reputation. This friend summoned Spenser from the north of England to London, and introduced him to Sir Philip Sidney. Sid- ney welcomed the poet to his house, treated him with the utmost kindness, and cheered him on in his literary ambi- tion. At Sidney's mansion Spenser revised his Shepherd's Calendar, and, under the title of the Poet's Year, dedicated * "Early in Spenser's life he had worshipped a fair "Rosalind, whoso faithless trifling With him and eventual preference of a rival are recorded in the 84 Calendar. E. K. (supposed to be Edward Eirke) tell- us that 'the name Mug well ordered will betray the very name of Spenser's love,' whence it h | Conjectured that she was a lass of the name of Rota Lyiub. . . . lie remained some twelve or fourteen years without thoughts of marriage. But in the J ears 16U 8 be fell in with an Elisabeth (her surname is (oat), toward- whom his heart turned; und after a courtship set forth in his Atnontti or lOUieta, he married her in 10M. His wile was oT lowly Origin. 'She was eertes bul I country (mm, 1 hut beautiful— ' so sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she.' Her eyes were ' sapphires blue,' her hair of • rippling gold.' "—Clarendon Prese Series—The Faery Queene, p. 8. SPENSER. 79 it to " Maister Philip Sidney, worthy of all titles, both of chivalry and poesy." He was anxious to win the patronage of some great person who would enable him to devote his life to literary pursuits. In our day, such an ambition would be considered unmanly and servile ; but it must be remembered that before Shakespeare no man had been able to earn his bread by literary work. Whoever had love for letters, if he were a poor man, must either quench that love or secure the patronage of wealth. Spenser's object was well-nigh accomplished when Sidney became his friend. Sidney presented him to Dudley, Earl of Leicester, the favorite of Elizabeth, and Dudley brought him under the notice of the Queen. To her Spenser paid his literary homage, gaining her applause, and receiving an appoint- ment in Ireland in 1580. His residence in Ireland. Six years afterwards, a grant of about three thousand acres of confiscated lands, not far from Cork, was given to him. Kilcolman Castle was his residence ; and there, surrounded by the charms of wonder- fully beautiful scenery, but far removed from the society of men of letters, and bitterly hated by the Irish peasantry, he composed the most important of his poetical works. In 1591 a pension of fifty pounds a year was decreed to him by the Queen. Occasional visits from English gentlemen and infrequent journeys to England relieved the monotony of his secluded life. In 1598 Tyrone's Eebellion broke out in the southern part of Ireland. English residents could look for no mercy from the insurgents. Spenser was specially disliked by them. His castle was attacked and burned, and his infant child perished in the flames. Over- whelmed by his misfortune and his grief, the poet hastened to London, where he died in January, 1599. There was great pomp at his funeral. " Poets attended upon his hearse, and mournful elegies, with the pens that wrote them, 80 SPENSER. were thrown into his tomb." He was buried in Westminster Abbey, near the tomb of Chaucer. The years of his life were almost coincident with the years of the reign of the great Queen.* His literary purpose. Spenser's avowed aim was to write in the spirit of Chaucer and Piers Ploughman, rather than after the spiritless versifiers of the fifteenth century. His first fame was gained by the publication of the Shepherd's Calendar. This work is a series of pastorals, divided into twelve parts, a part for each month, in which, as in Virgil's Bucolics, the imaginary interlocutors discuss questions of morality and of state. By depicting English scenery, and by selecting English names for his rustics, he endeavored to give a national air to these eclogues. They abound in fine descriptions of nature. Towards their close he anticipates the greater glory that will be found in his later writing. The work was thought by his contemporaries to mark an epoch in literature. In language and in sentiment it was more rustic than pastoral poetry had been. The Faery Queene, (38-42) Spenser's greatest work is the latest and most brilliant poetical expression of the sentiments of chivalry. Whatever charms may be in alle- gory, in graphic narration, in splendid description, are found in this extended, though incomplete poem. The original plan proposed twelve books of moral ad ventures, each book recounting the exploit of a knight and the triumph of a virtue. The hero of the entire poem was Prince Arthur. In * "Short COrtlng lmir, n full moustache, close clipped betid, heavy e\ebrow?, and under them thoughtful brown eyes, whose upper eyelids weigh them dreamily down ; a long and straight nose, strongly developed, answering to a long and some- what spar.' face, with a well -formed, sensible-looking forehead ; a month almost obscured by the moustache, but still showing rather full lips, denoting feeling, well srt together, so thai the warmth Of feeling -hall not run riot, with a tOUCh Of sadness in them, such is the look of Spenser, as bk portrait hand- it down ton*. A refined, I bought fill, warm hearted, pure smiled Knirlinhniau."— Clarendon Pre* Series— The Faery Queene, p. 10. THE FAEET QUE EKE. 81 the twelve books he was to be perfected in the twelve moral virtues; and the poet purposed, if this work should be suc- cessful, to write a second poem, in which the political virtues of the same hero should be sung. But six of the first twelve books were published. Tradition asserts that the latter por- tion was completed and lost at sea ; but it is probable that the design was never executed. That the work is incom- plete need not be regretted ; for the vigor, invention, and splendor found in the first three books decline in the fourth, fifth, and sixth. The reader has keen sympathy for the toiling patience which polished and decorated even the most obscure parts of the poem. This very fidelity to details probably prevented the completion of the work. The Argument of the Poem. The hero, Prince Arthur, arriving at the court of the Faery Queene, in Fairy-Land, finds her holding a solemn festival during twelve days. At the court there is a beautiful lady, for whose hand twelve most distinguished knights are rivals ; and in order to settle their pretensions these twelve heroes undertake twelve sepa- rate adventures, which furnish the materials for the action. The First Book relates the expedition of the Ked- Cross Knight, who is the allegorical representative of Holiness, while his mistress Una represents true Religion; and the action of the knight's exploit shadows forth the triumph of Holiness over the enchantments and deceptions of Heresy. The Second Book recounts the adventures of Sir Guyon, or Temperance; the Third, those of Britomartis — a female champion — or Chastity. Each of these books is subdivided into twelve cantos ; consequently the poem, even in the im- perfect form under which we possess it, is extremely volumi- nous. The publication of these three books was long delayed on account of the unfavorable criticism of Harvey ; but in 1589, Sir Walter Raleigh visited Spenser, heard the fragment of the poem, gave it enthusiastic applause, and persuaded the 82 THE FAEEY QUEENE. author to go with him to England in order that what was written might be given to the public without delay.* The three books appeared in 1590, and were dedicated to Elizabeth. He returned to Ireland to prosecute his work, and in 1596 published the fourth, fifth, and sixth books, allegories of Friendship, Justice, and Courtesy. The quality of his poetry. There are no blazing passages of passion in Spenser's writing. " He has auroral lights in profusion, but no lightning.'' f We may smile or we may be saddened in reading him, but we neither laugh nor ireep. The power of his genius is displayed in an unequaled richness of description. He describes to the eye. , To the airy conceptions of allegory he gives the distinctness of real objects. Those who would read him with the intensest delight \ must not try to interpret the allegory. They must yield themselves to the magic of his imagination. Though tire- some to many a reader, he is the most enchanting of ports to one who is endowed with a lively fancy. He is justly called " the poet's poet." * " When we conceive Spenser reciting his compositions to Raleigh in a scene so beautifully appropriate, the mind easts pleasing retrospect over that Influence which the enterprise of the discoverer of Virginia and the genius of the author of the Fnaij (>>■,, if have re-peel ively produced in the fortune and language of England. The fancy might easily be pardoned for a momentary superstition that the g their country hovered, unseen, over their meetin first look of regard on the poet that was destined to inspire her future Milton, and the other on her maritime hero, who paved the way for colonizing distant regions of the earth, where the language Of England was to be spoken, and the poetry of Spenser to be ad- mired. "—Thomas I />v fix Impatient minutes before the dinner is quite ready, who would think Of taking up the F& ry (hh» which everything * The following generally accessible works contain specially interesting dlaeot- tlOlM (.r the life and writings of Speii Whipple's I'll nitinx of /fir If/. <}>< . Taine's KnuUsh Literature, Hack- Wood 1 ! Magazine for November. 1881, Campbell' Specimen! Of English Poetry Hozlitt'B LeeturCB on the English Poets, Lectures 11. and III. • MINOR ELIZABETHAN POETS. 85 that is delicate, quaint, and fantastic in fairy mythology is accumu« lated, and touched with consummate felicity. Giles and Phineas Fletcher. The success of Spenser led many aspirants to seek poetical fame in allegorical composition, Two brothers, Giles (1588-1623) and Phineas Fletcher (1584-1650), cousins of Beaumont's colleague, were the only imitators who had enough of Spenser's spirit to copy him with any success. The first published a poem entitled Christ's Victory and Triumph (53) ; the second, under the title of The Purple Island, wrote an allegorical description of the human body and mind. But allegorical anatomy, however skilfully managed, is not attractive to the reader. When the veins and arteries of the body are described as brooks and rivers of blood, poetical fancy cannot redeem verse from the ludi- crous misuse. English Satire. The origin of English poetical satire is gener- ally assigned to this age. Many passages, indeed, of social and personal invective are found in earlier writers ; Chaucer's pictures of the monastic orders abound in open and implied censure ; both the spirit and matter of Langlande's work are satirical ; but in neither of these authors is satire an essential characteristic ; a cer- tain infusion of it was inevitable to the task they undertook, but it was far from being a primary condition. Skelton was too ribald, too full of mere venom and spite against individuals, to be ranked as anything more than a mere lampooner ; and Surrey and Wyatt pointed out the way to this kind of composition without following it themselves. The first English writer who distinctly calls him- self a satirist is Joseph Hall (1574-1656) (118) ; and the general opinion of later critics has acquiesced in his assertion. In 1597, fresh from Cambridge, he published three books of "biting satires, and two years afterwards, three more of toothless satires. To the collective work he gave the name of Virgidemarium, or a har- vest of rods (51). These poems seem to fulfill all the conditions of satire ; with great energy and some humor, they attack the pre- vailing follies and affectations of both literature and social life. Though the numbers are often harsh and the meaning obscure, they possess enough of the spirit of Juvenal to make them still readable. In later life Hall won greater distinction by his sermons ; and as a champion of episcopacy he ventured to grapple with Milton him- self. 86 MINOR ELIZABETHAN POETS. The number of minor poets produced indicates the unparalleled literary activity of the Elizabethan age. As many as two hundred have been reckoned who gave evidence of skill in constructing verse. It is, besides, a special distinction of the same age that it pro- duced translations of unusual excellence. The finest of them, the ll'md and Odyssey of George Chapman (1557-1634), appeared early in the seventeenth century. Tliey have won the enthusiastic admiration of several generations of poets, from Waller to Keats. " The earnestness and passion," says Charles Lamb, " which he has put into every part of these poems would be incredible to a reader of more modern translations." But the grandest phenomenon of the epoch of Elizabeth is the Drama, and to it we shall now address ourselves. In this chapter we have considered: — 1. The Non- Dramatic Poets of the Elizabethan Age,— Thomas Sackville and Sir Philip Sidney. 2. Edmund Spenser. .?. His Hesidence in Ireland. 4. His Literary Purpose. 5. The (( Faery QueeneJ 9 6\ The Argument of the Poem. 7. The Quality of the Poetry. 8. Spenser's Contemporaries,— Samuel Daniel. Mi- chael Drayton, Cites and Phineas Fletcher, Joseph Hall, and George Chapman. CHAPTER VHI. THE DAWN OF THE DRAMA. SPAIN and England alone, among modern civilized nation^ possess a theatrical literature independent in its origin, characteristic in its form, and reflecting faithfully the moral, social, and intellectual features of the people among whom it arose. The Mysteries and Miracle Plays. The dawning of the English dramatic literature can be traced to a period not far removed from the Norman Conquest ; for the custom of dramatizing the lives of the saints and striking episodes of Bible History, existed as early as the twelfth century. To these the names of Mysteries and Miracle plays were respectively given. The earliest Ci Mystery " on record is the Play of St. Catherine, which was represented at Dunstable about 1119, written in French, and was in all 1119.] probability a rude picture of the miracles and martyrdom of that saint. These performances were an expedient employed by the clergy for giving religious instruction to the people, and for extending and strengthening the influence of the Church. At first the plays were composed and acted by monks ; the cathedral was transformed for the nonce into a theatre, the stage was a graduated platform in three divisions — representing Heaven, Earth, and Hell — rising one over the other, and the cos- tumes were furnished from the vestry of the church. The simple faith of the dramatists and of their audience, saw no impropriety in representing the most supernatural beings, the persons of the Trinity, angels, devils, saints, and martyrs. It was absolutely necessary that some comic element should be introduced to enliven the graver scenes ; and this was supplied by representing the wicked personages of the drama as placed in ludicrous situations; thus the Devil generally played the part of the clown or jester, and was exhibited in a light half terrific and half farcical. The modem 6$ THE MIRACLES. puppet-play of Punch is a tradition handed down from thesi ancient miracles, in which the Evil One was alternately the con- queror and the victim of the human Buffoon, Jester, or Vice, as he was called. The morality of the time did not prevent the use of vulgar or of profane language. Some idea of these religious dramas may be formed from theii titles. The Creation of the World, the Fall of Man, the story of Cain and Abel, the Crucifixion of Our Lord, the Massacre of the In- nocents, The Play of the Blessed Sacrament, the Deluge, are in the list, besides an infinite multitude of subjects Taken from the lives and miracles of the saints. The plays are generally written in mixed prose and verse ; and, though abounding in absurdities, they con- tain passages of simple and natural pathos, and scenes of genuine, if not very delicate humor. In the Deluge, a comic scene is pro- duced by the refusal of Noah's wife to enter the Ark, and by the beating which terminates her resistance and scolding ; while, on the other hand, a Mystery entitled the Sacrifice of Isaac contains a pathetic dialogue between Abraham and his son. The oldest manuscript of a Miracle play in English is that of the Harr owing of Hell, i. e., the Conquering of Hell by Christ, believed to have been written about 1350. The Miracle play is not quite extinct even yet ; in the retired valleys of Catholic Switzerland, in the Tyrol, and in some seldom visited districts of Germany, the peasants still annually perform dramatic spectacles representing episodes in the life of Christ.* The Moralities. These plays, once the only form of dramatic representation, continued to be popular from the eleventh to the end of the fourteenth century, when they were supplanted l>v the Moralities. The subjects of these new dramas, instead of being purely religious, were moral, as their name implies { and their ethical lessons were conveyed by action of an allegorical kind Instead of their Deity and his angels, the saints, the patriarchy and the characters of the Old and New Testament, the persons who figure in the Moralities are, Every-Man, a general type or expression of humanity; Lusty Juventus, who represents the tollies and weak- nesses of youth; Good Counsel, Repentance, Gluttony, Pride, * 8ee description of the play at Obcrammergau In Harper's Monthly, Vol. XJLII., p. 174. THE MORALITIES AKD INTERLUDES. 89 Avarice, and the like. The same necessity existed as before for the introduction of comic scenes. The Devil was therefore retained ; and his hard blows and scoldings with the Vice, furnished many " a fit of mirth." * The oldest English Morality now extant is The Castle of Perseverance, which was written about 1450. It is a dra- matic allegory jof human life, representing the many conflicting influences that surround man in his way through the world. Another, called Lusty Juvenilis, contains a vivid and humorous picture of the extravagance and debauchery of a young heir, sur- rounded by the Virtues*'and the Vices, and ends with a demonstra' tion of the inevitable misery which follows a departure from the path of virtue and religion. The Interludes. Springing from the Moralities, and bearing some general resemblance to them, though exhibiting a nearer approach to the regular drama, are the Interludes, a class of com- positions in dialogue, much shorter in extent and more merry and farcical. They were generally played in the intervals of a festival, and were exceedingly fashionable about the time when the great controversy was raging between the Catholic Church and the reformed religion in England. The most noted author of these grotesque and merry pieces was John Heywood, a man of learning and accomplishments, who seems to have performed the duties of entertainer at the court of Henry VIII. His Four P's is a good specimen of this phase of the drama. It turns upon a dispute be- tween a Peddler, a Pardoner, a Palmer and a Poticary, in which each tries to tell the greatest lie. They tax their powers, until at last, by chance, the Palmer says that he never saw a woman out of temper ; whereupon the others declare his lie the greatest that can be told, and acknowledge him the victor. * "As for the Vice, he commonly acted the part of a hroad, rampant Jester and buffoon, full of mad pranks and mischief-making, liberally dashed with a sort of tumultuous, swaggering fun. He was arrayed in fantastic garb, with something of drollery in hie appearance, so as to aid the comic effect of his action, and armed with a dagger of lath, perhaps as symbolical that his use of weapons was but to the end of provoking its own defeat. Therewithal he was vastly given to cracking ribald and saucy jokes with and upon the devil, and treating him in a style of coarse familiarity and mockery; and a part of his ordinary business was to bestride the Devil, and beat him till he roared, and the audience roared with him; the scene ending with his being carried off to Hell on :' .e Devil's back."— Hudson t Shakespeare's Life, Art and Characters, Vol. I., p. 73- 90 THE FIRST ENGLISH TRAGEDY. The Pageants. The national taste for dramatic entertainments was still further fostered by those pageants which were often employed to gratify the vanity of citizens, or to compliment an illustrious visitor. On some lofty platform, in the porch or church- yard of a cathedral, in the Town Hall or over the city gate, a number of figures suitably dressed, accompanied their action with poetical declamation and music. The Prophets and Saints who welcomed the royat stranger in the thirteenth century with bar- barous Latin hymns, were gradually supplanted by the Virtues ; and these, in their turn, made way for the Cupids, the Muses, and other classical personages, whose influence has continued almost to the literature of our own time. Such spectacles were of course frequently exhibited at the Universities, where the Latin tongue was invariably employed and Latin plays were imitated. These dramas, however, do not appear to have exercised any appreciable influence on the growth of the English stage. We have traced the progress of the dramatic art from its rude infancy in England, and have seen how every step of that advance removed it farther from a purely religious character. The last step of the progress was the creation of a drama which gives a scenic representation of historical events and of social life. It was about the middle of the sixteenth century that activity of creation was first perceptible in this direction. John Bale (1494-1563), the author of many semi-polemical plays, set the example of extract- ing materials for rude dramas from the chronicles of his native country, His King John occupies an intermediate place between the Moralities and the historical plays. The First Regular Tragedy and Comedy. The earliest position in our language that possesses all the requisite- of a regular tragedy, and the first that is written in blank verse, is the play of Gorboduc, or Ferrex and Porrex, written by Thomas Sack- ville* (the principal writer in the " Mirror for Magistrates " ), and acted in 1562 for the entertainment of Queen Elizabeth. Its sub- ject is borrowed from the old half-mythological Chronicles of Britain. The dialogue of Qorbodvc is regularly and carefully con- structed ; but it is totally destitute of variety of pause, and conse- * One Thomas Norton Is Bald to have been the author of the first three acts ol this play, but his claim is disputed. GAMMER GURTOK S KEEDLE. 91 quently is unnatural. The sentence almost invariably terminate! with the line; and the effect of the whole is tedious; the action also is oppressively tragic, being a monotonous, dismal succession of slaughters, ending with the desolation of an entire kingdom. The first English comedy was Ralph Royster Doyster, acted in 1551, and written by Nicholas Udall, master of Eton 1551.] College. This was followed, about fifteen years later, by Gammer Gurtori's Needle, composed by John Still, after- wards a bishop, who had previously been master of St. John's and Trinity Colleges in Cambridge. This play was probably acted by the students of those colleges. Both these works are curious and interesting, not only as the oldest specimens of the class of literature to which they belong, but also in some measure from their intrinsic merit. The action of the former and better comedy takes place in London. The principal characters are a rich and pretty widow, her lover, and an irrepressible suitor, who gives the title to the play. This ridiculous pretender to gayety and love is betrayed into all sorts of absurd and humiliating scrapes. The piece ends with the return of the favored lover from a voyage which he had undertaken in a momentary pique. The manners represented are those of the middle class of the period ; and the picture given of life in London in the sixteenth century is curious, animated, and natural. The language is lively, and the dialogue is carried on in loose doggerel rhyme, very well adapted to repre- sent comic conversation. The plot of this drama is well imagined, and the reader's curiosity is kept alive. Gammer Gurton's Needle is a composition of a much lower and more farcical order. The scene is laid in the humblest rustic life, and all the dramatis personm belong to the uneducated class. The principal action of the comedy is the sudden loss of a needle with which Gammer (Good Mother) Gurton has been mending a garment of her man Hodge, a loss comparatively serious when needles were rare and costly. The whole intrigue consists in the search insti- tuted after this unfortunate little implement, which is at last dis- covered by Hodge himself, on suddenly sitting down, sticking in the garment which Gammer Gurton had been repairing. The Fir^t Dramatic Companies. As yet there were neither regular theatres nor professional actors. Plays were performed in 92 THE FIRST ENGLISH THEATRE. town-halls, court-yards of inns, cock-pits, and noblemen's dining- halls; and the parts were taken by amateurs. Soon, however. companies of actors, singers, and tumblers, calling themselves the servants of some nobleman whose livery they wore, were formed, and wandered about the country, performing wherever they could find an audience. Protected by the livery of their master against the severe laws which branded strollers as vagabonds, they sought the patronage of the civil authorities. Records of the municipal bodies and the household registers of illustrious families abound in entries of permissions granted to such strolling companies, and of moneys given to them. The most interesting of these entries is found in the municipal records of Stratford-upon-Avon, from which we learn that the players visited that place for the first time in 1569. Their performance w r as probably given under the patronage of Shakespeare's father, who was high-bailiff of the town in that year. But in the year 1575, under the powerful patronage of the Earl of Leicester, James Burbadge built the first English 1575.] theatre. The venture proved so successful, that twelve theatres were soon furnishing entertainment to the citizens of London. Of these the most celebrated was " The Globe." It was so named because its sign bore the effigy of Atlas supporting the globe, with the motto, " Totus Mundus agit Huttrionew ,"' and was situated in Southwark, near London Bridge. The majority of the London theatres were on the southern or Surrey bank of the Thames, in order to be out of the jurisdiction of the city, whose officers and magistrates, being under the influeuce of the severe doctrines of Puritanism, carried on a constant war against the players and the play-houses. Some of these theatres were cock- pits (the name of " the pit" still suggesting that fact) ; some wen- arenas for bull-baiting and bear-baiting; and, compared with fche magnificent theatres of the present day, all were poor and squalid, retaining in their form and arrangements many tracts o\' the old model— the inn-yard. Most of the theatres were entirely uncovered,* excepting over the stage, where a thatched roof pro- tected the actors from the weather. The spectators W< to sunshine and to storm. The boxes, or " rooms," as they were * Shakespeare's company owned Um Blaekfrien Theatre ami the Globe. During the winter the company played in the former, winch ua- the smaller and entirely roofed over ; but during the rammer they aaed the Globe. THE FURKITURE OF THE STAGE. 93 then styled, were arranged nearly as in the present day ; but the musicians, instead of being placed in the orchestra, were in a lofty gallery over the stage. The Early Theatres. The most remarkable peculiarities of the early English theatres were the total absence of painted or movable scenery, and the necessity that the parts for women should be pep formed by men or boys, actresses being as yet unknown. A few screens of cloth or tapestry gave the actors the opportunity of making their exits and entrances; a placard, bearing the name of Rome, Athens, London, or Florence, as the case might be, indi- cated to the audience the scene of the action. Certain typical articles of furniture were used. A bed on the stage suggested a bedroom ; a table covered with tankards, a tavern ; a gilded chair surmounted by a canopy, and called u a state," a palace; an altar, a church ; and the like. A permanent wooden structure like a scaffold, erected at the back of the stage, represented objects accord- ing to the requirements of the piece, such o : the wall of a castle or besieged city, the outside of a house, or a position enabling one of the actors to overhear others without being seen himself. Although thus scantily equipped in some respects, in costume ry the early stage was lavish and splendid. " The Prologue " appeared in a long, flaming, velvet robe, made after the pattern of the Middle Ages, and all the other actors were attired in the richest dress of their own day. Its picturesqueness, instead of marring, heightened the effect. But the use of contemporary costume in plays whose action was supposed to take place in Greece, Rome, or Persia, naturally led to amazing absurdities, such as arming the assassins of Caesar with Spanish rapiers, or furnishing Carthaginian senators with watches. Anachronisms, however, were not offensive to the uncritical spectators of those times. Certain attributes were associated with supernatural personages. A " roobe for to goo in- Tisibell " is one of the items in an old list of properties ; and in all probability the spectral armor of the Ghost in Hamlet was to be found in the wardrobe of the ancient theatres. The curtain is sup- posed to have opened perpendicularly in the middle ; and besides this principal curtain, there seem to have been others occasionally drawn so as to divide the stage into several apartments. 94 THE ACTOR'S SOCIAL POSITION. The foregoing statements concerning the early theatre show how meagre were the material aids on which the dramatist could rely. That very poverty of the theatre was among the conditions of the excellence of the Elizabethan dramatist. He could not depend upon the painter of scenes for any interpretation of the play, and therefore he was constrained to make his thought vigorous and his language vivid. The performance began early in the afternoon, and was an- nounced by flourishes of a trumpet. The prologue was generally declaimed by its author, who was dressed in antique costume. Black drapery hung around the stage, was the symbol of a tragedy; and rushes strewn ou the stage, enabled the best patrons of the company to sit upon the floor. Dancing and singing took place between the acts; and, as a rule, a comic ballad, sung by a clown with accompaniment of tabor and pipe and farcical dancing, closed the entertainment. The social position of an actor and playwright, even at the end of the sixteenth century, was not enviable. He was still re- garded by many as scarcely a shade removed above the " rogues and vagabonds " of former generations; but this drawback seems to have been fully compensated for by extraordinary profits. That these were unusually great is proved, not only by historical evidence, such as the frequent allusions made by the preachers and moralists of the day to the pride, luxury, and magnificence in dress of the successful performers, but also by the rapidity with which many of them, as Shakespeare, Burbadgc, and Alleyn, amassed consider- able fortunes. Notwithstanding the social discredit that attached to the actor's profession, the drama reached such popularity, and the employ- ment w T as so lucrative, that it soon became the common resort of literary genius in search of employment. Indeed, nothing is more remarkable than the marvclously rapid growth of this department of our literature. It passed from infancy to maturity in a single generation. Twenty years after the appea rance oi the fori mde tragedy, the theatre entered upon the most glorious period of it» history, -a period without parallel in tin* literature of any country. This was mainly the work of a small band of poets, whose careers all began about the same time. SHAKESPEARE'S CONTEMPORARIES. 95 Shakespeare's Early Contemporaries. They were most of them men of liberal education, but of dissolute lives. One or two of them left rural homes to seek their fortunes in London, and were lured into the new profession by the prospect of swift gain. They all possessed abilities of a high order. William Shakespeare is the giant of the group, and beside him the others dwindle into comparative insignificance. These men, George Chapman, John Lyly, George Peele, Robert Greene, Christopher Marlowe, and Thomas Kycl, are often spoken of as the predecessors of Shake- speare ; but as none of them preceded him by more than a year or two, and as all were fellow- workers with him for a time, it seems proper to style them the contemporaries of his early literary life. The careers of these men in their general outlines were the same. They attached themselves as dramatic actors and poets to one of the numerous companies, and after a short apprenticeship passed in rewriting and rearranging plays, they gradually rose to original works, written either alone or in partnership with a brother play- wright. As there was no dramatic copyright at this time, the playwrights had the strongest motive for taking every precaution that their pieces should not be printed, publication instantly anni- hilating their monopoly, and allowing rival companies to profit by their labors ; and this is the reason why so few of the dramas of the period, in spite of their unequaled merit and their great popularity, were given to the press during the lives of their authors. It also explains the singularly careless execution of such copies as were printed, these having been published in many cases surreptitiously, and contrary to the wishes and interests of the author. Only the briefest mention can be made of the subordinate members of this remarkable group of writers. John Lyly (1553-1601 ?), educated at Oxford, a man of classical culture, composed plays for the court, and pageants. His writings exhibit genius, though strongly tinctured with a peculiar affecta- tion, with which he infected the language of elegant conversation, and even of literature, till it fell under the ridicule of Shakespeare. This pedantic, superfine use of language is known as Euphuism* The name was taken from the title of one of Lyly's works, * " To this day every man who has anything of the coxcomb in his brain, who desires a dress for his thought more .splendid than his thought, slides unconsciously into Euphuism."—^. P. Whipple. 96 PEBLE, KYD AND GBEENE. "Euphues; the Anatomy of Wit." Without drinking from this fountain of affectation, one can know its flavor from the language of Sir Piercie Shafton, in Scott's novel, " The Monastery." George Peele (1552-1598 ?), like Lyly, had received a liberal education at Oxford. He was one of Shakespeare's fellow-actors and fellow-shareholders in the Blackfriars Theatre. His earliest work, The Array nement of Paris, was printed anonymously in 1584. His most celebrated dramatic works were David and Bethsabe, and Abaolon, in which there are great richness and beauty of lan- guage, and indications of a high order of pathetic and elevated emotion. H\& Edward I. is supposed to be our first historical play. Thomas Kyd, the " sporting Kyd," of Ben Jonson, was possibly the author of the famous play called Jeronimo, to which, in conse- quence of the many recastings it received, so many authors have been ascribed. The Spanish Tragedy, which is a continuation of Jeronimo, was undoubtedly his. Robert Greene (1560-1592) was a Cambridge man, and the author of a multitude of tracts and pamphlets on miscellaneous subjects. Sometimes they were tales, often translated or expanded from the Italian novelists ; sometimes amusing exposures of the various arts of cony-catching, i. e., cheating and swindling, practised at that time in London, and in which, it is to be feared, Greene was personally not unversed ; sometimes moral confessions, like the Groatsworth of Wit, or Never too Late, purporting to be a warning to others against the consequences of unbridled passions. In this group of dramatists his place is next below Marlowe. But by far the most powerful genius among them was Christo- topher Marlowe (1564-1593). On leaving the University of Cam- bridge he joined a troop of actors, among whom he was remarkable for vice and debauchery. His career was as short as it was dis- graceful : he was stabbed in the head with his own dagger, which he had drawn in a quarrel with an antagonist, and he died of this wound at the age of thirty. His works are not numerous ; but they are strongly distinguished from those of preceding and contemporary dramatists by an air of astonishing energy and elevation — an eleva- tion, it is fcrne, Which is sometimes exaggerated, and an energy which occasionally degenerates into extravagance. n«' established the use of blank verse in the English drama. His first work was the tragedy of Tamburlaine the Great. The declamation in this piece, though sometimes bombastic, led Ben Jonson to speak of MARLOWE AND CHAPMAN. 9t " Marlowe's mighty line." But in spite of the bombast, the piece contains many passages of great power and beauty. Marlowe's best work is the drama of Faust us (71), founded upon the same popular legend which Goethe adopted as the groundwork of his tragedy ; and though the German poet's work is on the whole vastly superior, there is certainly no passage in the tragedy of Goethe in which terror, despair, and remorse are painted with so powerful a hand as in the great closing scene of Marlowe's piece. The tragedy of the Jew of Malta, though inferior to Faustus, is characterized by similar merits and defects. The hero, Barabas, is the type of the Jew as he appeared to the rude and bigoted imaginations of the fifteenth century — a monster half-terrific, half-ridiculous, impossibly rich, inconceivably bloodthirsty, cunning, and revengeful, the bugbear of an age of ignorance and persecution. The intense expression of his rage, however, his triumph and his despair, give occasion for many noble bursts of Marlowe's powerful declamation. The tragedy of Edward II. (70), which was the last of this great poet's works, shows that in some departments of his art, and particularly that of moving terror and pity, he might, had he lived, have become no insignificant rival of Shakespeare himself. Marlowe is honorably known in other departments of poetry also. His charming poem, The Passionate Shepherd, had the rare dis- tinction of being quoted by Shakespeare, and of being answered in " The Nymph's Reply," by Sir Walter Raleigh. The merits of George Chapman (1557-1634) as a translator have entirely eclipsed his dramatic fame. Richard Grant White's admirable " Account of the Rise and Progress of the English Drama to the time of Shakespeare," and Rev. H. N. Hudson's "Historical Sketch of the Origin and Growth of the Drama in England," are the finest discus- sions to be found by the student upon the topic treated of in this chapter. In this chapter we have considered :— 1. The Mysteries and Miracle Plays, 2. The Moralities. 3. The Interludes. 4. The Pageants. 5. The First Begular Tragedy and Comedy. 6. The Early Theatres. 7. The Social Position of Actor and Playwright, 8. Shakespeare's Early Contemporaries. 5 CHAPTEB IX. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. * I loved the man and do honor to his memory, on this side idolatry, as much w any. He was indeed honest and of an open and free nature."— Ben Jonson. " And he, the man whom Nature selfe had made To mock hcrselfe and Truth to imitate.' 1 — Spenser. * Sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child."— Milton. " But Shakespeare's magic could not copied he, Within that circle none durst walk hut he."— Dry den. " I hold a perfect comedy to be the perfection of human composition ; and I firmly believe that fifty Iliads and Aeneids could be written sooner thau such a character as FalstafTs."— Horace Walpole. M I am always happy to meet persons who perceive the transcendent superiority of Shakespeare over all other writers." — R. W. Emerson. " 1 cannot account for Shakespeare's low estimate of his own writings, except from the sublimity, the super-humanity of his genius."— Wordswort h. " Shakespeare is of no age. He speaks a language which thrills in our blood in spite of the separation of two hundred yean. His thoughts, passions, feelings, strains of fancy, all are of this day as they were of his own; and his genius may be contemporary with the mind of every generation for a thousand years to come."— l*ix>f. Wilson. " More full of wisdom and ridicule and sagacity than all the moralists Bad satirists that ever existed, Shakespeare is more mild, airy and inventive, and more pathetic and fantastic, than all the poets of all regions and ages of the world, and has all those elements so happily mixed up in him, and bears his high faculties so temperately, that the most severe reader cannot complain of him for want of strength or of reason, nor the most sensitive, for defect of ornament or ingenuity." —Lord Jeffrey. " The name of Shakespeare is the greatest in our literature— it is the ^oatest in all literature. No man ever came near him in the creative powers of the mind; no man ever had such strength at once, and MOB variety of imagination. Coleridge has most felicitously applied to him a Greek epithet, given before to I know not whom, certainly none so deserving of it,— M^piorovt, the thoxisand-souled Shake- speare. "—IlcUlam . SHAKESPEARE. 99 " I think most readers of Shakespeare sometimes find themselves thrown into exalted mental conditions like those produced hy music. Then they may drop the book to pass at once into the region of thoughts without words."— 0. W.Holmes. " Whatever other learning he wanted, he was master of two books unknown to many profound readers, though books which the last conflagration alone can destroy, —I mean the Book of Nature and that of Man. 1 '— Edward Young. THE authentic biography of the most famous writer in English literature is very brief. The following facts can be positively stated about William Shakespeare : John and Mary Shakespeare were his parents. He was christened in the little town of Stratford-on-Avon, in War- 1564.] wickshire, England, the 26th day of April, 1564. He was married when eighteen years old. Three years after his marriage he went from Stratford to London. He was an actor, and one of the proprietors of the Globe Theatre, in 1589. Ben Jonson was his intimate acquaint- ance. His last years were spent in his native place, where he was one of the influential citizens. He was once a plaintiff in a suit-at-law. He died on the 23d day of April, 1616. Tradition says that he was a man of fine form and fea- tures, that he was sometimes too convivial, that he wa3 beloved by nearly all who knew him, that he had the per- sonal acquaintance of Elizabeth and James I. His father, John Shakespeare, probably a glover, had married Mary Arderne, whose family had figured in the courtly and war- like annals of preceding reigns. That John Shakespeare had been in flourishing circum- stances is proved by his having long been one of the Alder- men of Stratford, and by his having served in the office of Bailiff or Mayor in 1569. Mary Arderne had brought her husband a small property. This acquisition seems to have tempted him to engage, without experience, in agricultural pursuits, which ended disastrously in his being obliged at different times to mortgage and sell, not only his farm, but even one of the houses in Stratford of which he had been 100 SHAKESPEARE. owner. He at last retained nothing save that small, but now venerable dwelling, consecrated to all future ages by being the spot where the greatest of poets was born. His distresses appear to have become severe in 1579 ; and he was unable to extricate himself from his embarrassments, until his son had gained a position of competence, and even of affluence. That William Shakespeare could have derived even the most elementary instruction from his parents seems impos- sible; for neither of them could write — an accomplishment, however, which, it should be remarked, was comparatively rare in Elizabeth's reign. But there existed at that time, and there exists at the present day, in the borough of Strat- ford, an endowed " free grammar-school ;" and it is incon- ceivable that John Shakespeare, Alderman and Past Baililf as he was, should have neglected the opportunity for edu- cating his son. This opportunity, together with the exten- sive though irregular reading of which his works give evidence, and the vague tradition that he had been " in his youth a schoolmaster in the country," make it probable that the poet had more training than some of his admir would give him credit for. It has been reasonably inferred that during his early years he must have been a student in the office of a lawyer; for throughout his works he shows extra- ordinary knowledge of the technical language of the law.* The most familiar of the legends concerning him repre- sents his youth as wild and irregular, and tells o[' a deer- stealing expedition in company with riotous young fellows, to Sir Thomas Lucy's park at Oharloote, near Stratford. According to the story, Shakespeare was seized, brought before the indignant justice of the peace. and flogged. I this indignity be revenged himself by writing a satiric ballad and attaching it to the gates of Oharlcotcf Then the wrath * See AttakHit \r»»f/rft/, Vol. IV., p. 84. t For a difOQMion of this legend and for a stanza of the ballad, ace WMU'i Memoir* of Shakesjvare, p. xxxvi., seq. SHAKESPEARE. 101 of the Knight blazed so high that Shakespeare sought remge' in London, where he earned his livelihood by holding horses at the doors of the theatres, until his wit attracted the notice of the actors and gained him a position where by degrees he became a celebrated actor and author. We must discredit one part of the legend, inasmuch as boats — not horses- furnished conveyance across the Thames from the city to the theatres. But even though the story about the deer-stealing may ha*e a foundation of truth, Shakespeare's departure from Stratford and his entrance into theatrical life in Lon- don may be explained in a different and less improbable manner. He was then twenty-two years of age. He had been married three years to Anne Hathaway, a young woman seven years his senior.* His three children had been born. It was necessary to provide means for the sup- port of his family, and that, too, without delay; for his father's wealth was nearly gone. His Career as a Dramatist. London was the resort for such a needy adventurer as he in search of fortune ; and the theatrical profession, with its ready reward for the success- ful actor, was the most advantageous calling for him. His native taste for the drama must have been attracted to that calling before this time, for troops of actors had made frequent visits to Stratford; moreover the greatest tragic actor of the day, Richard Burbadge, was a Warwickshire man, and Thomas Greene, a distinguished member of the troop of the Royal Theatre, then the first theatre in Lon- * There are several facts which seem to indicate that the married life of the poet was not brightened by love. Bitter allusions to marriages like his own occur in his works ; during the long period of his residence in London, his wife did not live with him; and in his will he leaves her only his " second-best bed with furniture." The significance of the slighting bequest is diminished by the fact that, as his prop- erty was chiefly in land, her legal right to one-third gave her a large estate. But, on the other hand, several most tenderly loving passages in his poems seem unin- telligible unless interpreted as addressed to her. For a discussion of the respective Bides of this question see White's Memoirs of Shakespeare, p. xlix., seep, and Hud- mil's Life of Shakespeare, p. 19, seq. 102 SHAKESPEARE. don, was a native of Stratford. And so, as the companies of actors were always ready to enlist men of talent, it happened that when Shakespeare arrived in London he naturally entered the service of one of those companies. Like other young men of that time, he made himself useful to his company hoth as an actor and as a re-writer of dra- matic pieces ; and his early professional career probably differed in no respect from that of Marlowe and others, save in the industry and success with which he pursued* it, and in the prudence with which he accumulated wealth. By adapting old plays to the demands of his theatre he acquired that masterly knowledge of stage-effect, and discovered the dramatic genius, which enabled him to write the grandest dramas in the literature of the world. His theatrical career continued from 1586 until 1611 (?), a period of twenty-five years, including his youth and the dignity and glory of his manhood. The dramatic company to which Shakespeare belonged was the most respectable and the most prosperous of that time. By carefully avoiding political allusions and by gain- ing the patronage of influential men, it secured unusual freedom from the interference of the authorities of the city. In this company Shakespeare reached a high position. To his good sense, prudence, and knowledge of the world its success may have been due ; for no sooner had he retired from the theatre than repeated causes of complaint arose, and severe penalties were inflicted by the authorities upon his former comrades. Shakespeare quickly rose to such importance in his pro- fession as to call down upon him the attacks of disappointed rivals ; for, in 1592, Greene makes bitter allusion to his . accuses him of plagiarism, and plainly shows that envy dictated the attack. The scurrilous pamphlet con- taining this accusation was published after Greene's death, and evidently provoked criticism by its meanness. Chettle, SHAKESPEARE. 103 its editor, promptly published an apology, in which he saya of Shakespeare, — " I am as sorry as if the originall fault had beene my fault, because myself have seene his demeanor no' less civill than he exclent in the quality he professes : be- sides, divers of worship have reported his uprightnes of dealing which argues his honesty, and his facetious [felici- tous] grace in writing that approves his art." That he was acquainted with his art is clear from the inimitable "directions to the players" put into the mouth of Hamlet, which, in incredibly few words, contain its whole system. There is a tradition that tells of his acting the Ghost in his tragedy of Hamlet (81), the graceful and touching character of Adam, the faithful old servant, in his As You Like It (72), the deeply pathetic impersonation of grief and despair in the popular tragedy of Hieronymo, and the sensible citizen, Old Knowell, in Ben Jonson's Every Man In His Humor. John Davies, in The Scourge of Folly, ascribes to him some excellence in the performance of kingly characters. But the first masterly actor of the great tragic characters, Richard III., Hamlet, Othello, and the others, was Shakespeare's comrade, Richard Burbadge. Shakespeare's reputation grew apace. Six years after his arrival in London, he had won his way to the foremost rank of literary men. He was already wielding influence. Riches were flowing into his hands. The gifted and the noble ap- plauded him, and sought his society. The young Earl of Southampton is said to have expressed his admiration for the worth and the genius of the poet by making him the princely gift of a thousand pounds. Through succeeding years his prosperity continued. In 1597, at the age of thirty-three, he purchased " New Place," the finest house in Stratford, making it a home for his family, and a refuge for his parents.* In 1602 he purchased one hundred and seven ♦It was Shakespeare's ambition to gain the rank and title of " gentleman ; n and, therefore, at about the time when he bought New Place he solicited a coat of 104 SHAKESPEARE. acres of land, and at about the same time he invested four hundred and forty pounds in the tithes of Stratford. In 1611 (?) he sold his interest in the Globe Theatre, left London, and withdrew to the quietude of his home. There five years were spent in a leisure that must have been a strange contrast to the busy, thronging cares that had at- tended his professional life. An active interest in the welfare of his town, an occasional visit to London, gen- erous entertainment of his friends, and the composition of one or two of his grandest dramas, seem to have 1616.] occupied these years of retirement. He died on the 23d of April, 1616, probably on the anniversary of his birthday, having just completed his fifty-second year. There is a tradition that he rose from a sick-bed to entertain Ben Jonson and Drayton, and that he brought on a relapse by "drinking too hard." He was buried in the parish church of Stratford. In the wall, above his grave, a monu- ment is erected, containing his bust.* This bust and the coarse engraving by Droeshout, prefixed to the first folio edition of his works published in 1623, are the most trust- worthy of his portraits. In eulogistic verses Ben Jonson vouches for the faithfulness of Droeshoufs picture But few relics of Shakespeare still remain. The house of New Place has long been destroyed; but the garden in which it stood, and, in another street, the house where the poet was born, are preserved. His will, whieh was made a month before his death, testifies to his kind and alleetionate arms for his lather. Ilis own defamed profession would have been the way of bia securing the honor; bathe succeeded In obtaining il for bis ftther, and po gained it for himself by inheritance. He was the lasl to beat the lanuit tiiir; for bis only son, Bamnet, died when eleven j * The pavement over his grave bears the following startling Inscription] " Good Mend, for [esvs sain tori* i To digg the dvst. eucloMed heare: M e at s he \v. man yi spares thes .-tours, And cvrst be he yt moves my bone*. 1 ' SHAKESPEARE. 105 disposition. To each of his old comrades and "fellows" he leaves some token of regard, generally " twenty-six shillings and eight pence apiece, to buy them rings.'' The three autographs attached to this document, and one or two more, are the only specimens of his writing that have been pre- served.* Early Non-Dramatic Poems. Shakespeare's first original poems were not dramatic. He was the creator of a peculiar species of narrative composition, which achieved an immedi- ate and immense popularity. Venus and Adonis, which, in his dedication to Lord Southampton, he calls " the first heir of his invention," was published in 1593. It is probable that this poem — exhibiting all the luxuriant sweetness, the voluptuous tenderness, of a youthful genius — was conceived, if not composed, at Stratford. It was re-issued in five several editions between the years 1593 and 1602 ; while the Rape of Lucrece, during nearly the same time, appeared in three. When he abandoned the adaptation of old plays for original dramatic composition, it is quite impossible to ascertain ; for some of the works which bear the strongest impress of his genius were undoubtedly based upon earlier productions. As examples of this may be mentioned Hamlet (81, 82), Henry V., and King John (77). Classification of His Plays. There are internal evidences which distinguish his earlier and his later plays, but nothing from which a chronological list could be made. To obtain such a list, many acute investigators have exercised their in- genuity, and have found startling discrepancies in their results. No reliance can be placed upon the order of the * " The manner in which the name is spelled in the old record* varies almost to the extreme capacity of various letters to produce a sound approximating to that of the name as we pronounce it But Shakespeare himself, and his care- ful friend Ben Jon^on, when they printed the name, spelled it Shakespeare, the hyphen being often used; and in this form it is found in almost every book of their time in which it appeared. 1 '— White's Memoirs of William Shakespeare, p. iv., note 106 SHAKESPEARE. pieces given in the first edition — the folio published in 1623 by Heminge and C'ondell, Shakespeare's friends. The most superficial examination is sufficient to prove that, in spite of the assurances of the editors as to its having been based upon the " papers" of their colleague, this publication must be regarded as little better than a hasty speculation, entered into for the sake of profit and without much regard to the literary reputation of the great poet. And though the sys- tem of grouping plays as Tragedies, Comedies, and Histories, has at all events the advantage of clearness, and is that upon which most editions of the dramas are based, it also is open to objection. Some of the pieces indeed (such as Othello, King Lear, Hamlet), are distinctly tragedies, and others (As You Like ft [72] or Twelfth Night) are as decidedly comedies; but many more might, from their tone and incidents, be ranged under either head. Indeed, in all the tragic and comic elements are more or less intermixed, and it is this blending of the two in the same piece which con- stitutes the distinguishing trait of the English drama in the Shakespearean age, and gives it superiority over the national drama of every other country. For us, the most useful mode of classification is based upon the sources from which Shakespeare drew the ma- terials for his dramas. Those sources are historical and fictitious. The historical plays depict events of recent reigns in England. Holinshed's Chronicles furnished much of the material for them, beginning with King John (77), and ending with Henry VIII. (79, 80). They are grand pano- ramas of national glory or national distress. Ixichard II., Richard III (78), the two unequaled dramas on the reign of Henry IV. ami I hat chant of patriotic triumph, II< unj V., illustrate his power in representing epochs in the history of his nation. Shakespeare, though not (he inventor, was the most prolific author, of such historical dramas. In addition to the plays founded on authentic facts of SHAKESPEARE. IOC history, he wrote many which had a semi-historical char- acter, and drew their stories from the legends of various countries ; thus Hamlet was taken from a Danish chronicler ; Macbeth, Lear and Gymbeline refer to more or less fabulous legends of Scottish and British history ; while Coriolanus, Julius Catsar and Antony and Cleopatra are derived from ancient Roman annals. Nineteen of his dramas are based upon fiction. Of these a large majority can be traced to the Italian novelists and their imitators, who supplied the light literature of the six- teenth century. The short tales of those writers were m>st singularly adapted to furnish an appropriate groundwork for the poet's delineations of humor or pathos. They de- pended for their popularity upon amusing and surprising incidents. From the classification given on the next page it will be seen that many of these plays were based upon preceding dra- matic works. A few of the more ancient pieces themselves are preserved, exhibiting different degrees of imperfection and barbarism. In one or two cases we have more than one edition of the same play in its different stages towards com- plete perfection under the hand of Shakespeare. Hamlet is the most notable instance. Some of these thirty-seven plays show evicknt marks of an inferior hand. The three parts of Henry VI. were in all probability older dramas, retouched here and there with Shakespeare's inimitable strokes of nature and poetic fancy. So, too, the last of the English historical plays, Henry VIII. , bears distinct traces of having been in part composed by a different author; in the diction, the turn of thought, and in the peculiar struc- ture of the verse, there are indications that in its composi- tion Shakespeare was associated with another poet. Such literary partnership was in vogue in that age. On reading Shakespeare's historical dramas, the first im- pression is of the amazing apprehension and ready delinea* 108 SHAKESPEARE'S PLAYS. A Classification of Shakespeare's Plays, the Probable Dates of their Composition? and the Sources whence the Materials were Derived, l.-HISTORICAL. Henry VI., Part I ) " " " II • [ " M " HI \ Richard II 111.(78) King John (77) Henry IV., Part I ( " " * II < Henry V f Henry Vin(79, 80) « ° L SOURCES FROM WHICH MATERIALS DERIVED. Old play, entitled The Contention between the Famous Hon res of York and Lan- caster; and the True Tragedy of Richard, Duke of York. olinshcdV Chronicles The Chronicler of Hall and of Holinshed. An older play. j An older play, entitled The Famous Vic- | tories of King Henry V. j The Chronicles of Hall and of Holinshed, I and Fox's Book of Martyi-s. II. -SEMI-HISTORICAL, OR LEGENDARY. Titus Andronicus Hamlet (81, 82) 1587-9 1600 1605 1605 1606-8 1606-8 1609-11 1609-11 Probably an older play. j The Chronicle of Saxo-Grammaticus, j and an older play. Holinshed and older plays. Macbkth (84, 85)... Julius Cesar (83) \ Antony and Cleopatra \ Coriolanus ) North's Translation of Plutarch's Lives. Cymbeline III. -FICTITIOUS. Lovk's Labour 's Lost Comedy of Kkroks Two GnmjUU OF Verona A Midsummer Night's Dream (75, 76, 87) The Merchant of Venice (74) Romeo and JtJUBT Mi, ii Ado ABOUT Nothing Twixkth-Niuht A- Vou Lou It (72, 73) The Taming of the Shrew. . . Pericles IfjBUR Wives of Windsor .. . Measure for Measure All's Well that Ends \\ nx Timon ok Athens Troilus and Ckehsida Othello The Winter's Tale The Tempest (86) 1588-9 me 1589-90 1594 1594 1596 I.V.N -<.l ten 1599 16(H 1602 1603 1603-4 1604 1605-7 1606-8 1609-11 1611 Unknown ; probably of French origin. 'I'lir Mmachmi of Plautus. Unknown. // Pecorone, an Italian tale. I':i\ ntrrs Pa'ar, of Measure. An Italian novel. " An Italian novel, by Bandello. Lodge's Bosalynd*. An older phi v. i Qower't Cbnfmia Arnaults, and Th* ) Patient of Painfull \:tnu hires. unknown. I'intiiio's HkatomUki. Paynter's Fatoa of ff no ro r w , translated from Boo o oe to . PI ii tan li. Lneian, and The Palace of lit turn >. Chancer and Onxton'i RecuyeU of the i History*! of I'm,/. Cinthio'a BtcatomiOA, QreeneV touutoeto; Tfu Triumph qj lnkiiown. * According to Richard Grant White. SHAKESPEARE. 109 tion of the peculiarities of the age and country which the poet reproduces. He gave reality to every character in the play. From the most prominent down to the most obscure* each one has a distinct individuality, — true at the same time to that individuality, to his nation, and to the universal man. There may be, here and there, anachronisms, but they never affect the truthfulness of the poet's representa- tion of human nature. His Comprehension of Nature. Even the influence of climate is not forgotten in his creations. Take the charac- ters of Ophelia and Juliet as types of the woman of the North and the woman of the South. Both are in love. As you read through the pages in which Ophelia lives, you find yourself communing with a woman whose sincerity and constancy and depth of soul, you recognize and admire. She speaks few words and they are very quietly spoken. When she discovers that her love is reciprocated, though she is chary of her words, you detect her delight. Then her trials come. Her lover is separated from her. Her cruel fortune is patiently borne until her reason is dethroned. Then, even in her insanity, her nature is true to its clime. Still there is reserve. Her grief finds little utterance in words, but sings itself to rest in snatches of song. Her emotional nature is under control. Her anxiety, her joy, her grief, are alike subdued by the reserve that is natural to the Northern temperament. Juliet stands in striking contrast. No calm exterior hides her impulsive spirit. Her love comes suddenly to its full expression. Her womanliness appears in emotions that are profound, though easily moved; in a constancy of love, though that love would seem to expend itself in demonstra- tion. Her womanliness is as pure as Ophelia's. She is 6imply true to ifre impulsive nature of the Southerner. His Delineation of Character. His mode of delineating 110 SHAKESPEARE. passion is unique. Others fall more or less into the error of making their personages mere embodiments of moral qualities, — of ambition, of avarice, of hypocrisy. They accumulate in their creations only kindred characteristics. Shakespeare never forgets the infinite complexity of human nature. As Macaulay justly observes, the primary charac- teristic of Shylock is revengefulness ; but a closer insight discloses a thousand other qualities, whose mutual play and varying intensity go to compose the complex being that Shakespeare has drawn in the terrible Jew. Othello is no mere impersonation of jealousy, nor Macbeth of ambition, nor Falstaffof selfish gayety, nor Timon of misanthropy, nor Imogen of wifely love : in each of these personages, the more closely we analyze them, the deeper and more multi- form will appear the springs of action which make up their personality. To this wonderful power of conceiving complex character may be attributed another distinguishing peculiar- ity of our poet, namely, the total absence from his works of any tendency to egotism. From his dramas we learn nothing whatever of his own sympathies and tendencies. He is absolutely impersonal, or rather he is all persons in turn ; for no poet ever possessed to a like degree the power of suc- cessively identifying himself with a multitude of the most diverse individualities, and of identifying himself so com- pletely that we cannot detect a trace of preference. Shake- speare, when he has once thrown off such a character as Othello, never recurs to it again. Othello disappears from the stage as completely as a real Othello would disappear from the world, and leaves behind him no similar person- age. He has given us other pictures of jealous men, — Leontes, Ford, Posthumus ; but how differently is the passion manifested in each of these ! In the characters of women, too, what a wonderful range, what inexhaustible variety ! * In no class of his impersonations are the depth, * " It would be very gratifying, no doubt, perhaps WJ in ! root! > e also, to be let into the domestic life and character of the port's mother. That both her nature and SHAKESPEARE. Ill the delicacy, and the extent of Shakespeare's creative power more visible than in his women ; and this is all the more wonderful when we remember that in drawing these varied types of character, he knew that they would be intrusted in representation to boys or young men — English women not appearing on the stage before 1661, long after the age which witnessed such creations as Ophelia, Lady Macbeth, Rosalind, and Juliet. The author must have felt what he so powerfully expressed in the language of his own Cleopatra: " The quick comedians Extemporary shall stage us : Antony Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness." These Shakespearean characters — men or women — do not appear as pictures on the page of a book. We come to know them, not from descriptions of them, but by actual inter- course with them. They live. They talk in our presence ; — some of them rude, grotesque, eccentric ; some of them grand and energetic ; some of them in the various phases of insanity; but all of them real. This is Shakespeare's miraculous power, that he makes realities out of that which others make into pictures or dreams. We have been in the Roman Senate and have seen Julius Csesar bleed away his life. King Lear is not a man about whom we have simply read. He is a man whom we have seen, whose folly has disgusted us, whose rage has startled us, whose despair has stirred the depths of our pity. In the expression of strong emotion, as well as in the delineation of character, Shakespeare is superior to all other her discipline entered largely into his composition, and had much to do in making him what he was, can hardly be questioned, Whatsoever of woman's beauty and sweet- ness and wisdom was expressed in her life and manners could not but be caught and repeated in his susceptive and fertile mind. He must have grown familiar with the noblest parts of womanhood somewhere ; and I can scarce conceive how he - should have learned them so well, but that the light and glory of them beamed upon him from his mother."— Hudson's Life of Shakespeare, p. 14. 212 SHAKESPEARE. poets. He never produces the effect he desires by violent rhetoric, or by unnatural combinations of qualities. He instructs and interests us by exhibiting passions and feelings as we see them in the world. He draws illustrations from simple and familiar objects. Sometimes his natural fond- ness for making subtile distinctions, sometimes his passion for punning, does violence to our notions of good taste; but it must be borne in mind that such mannerism was the literary vice of his day. These defects disappear in the mo- ments of his earnestness. His Plots Borrowed. In no instance has Shakespeare taken the trouble of inventing a plot for himself. Appro- priating without hesitation materials already prepared, he directed all his energies to that department in which he shines unrivaled, — the portrayal of human nature and human passion. We are not, however, to infer that the poet necessarily consulted the tales and dramas in the original tongues. A careful examination of his works seems to prove that he has rarely made use of any ancient or foreign literature not then existing in English transla- tions ; a fact which lends some corroboration to the well known statement of Ben Jonson that he had " small Latin and less Greek." His Metaphorical Style. His style is often criticised for its obscurity. It is the profundity of his thinking and the reach of his imagination which make him subject to that criticism. He often thinks in metaphors; ami we have CO discern the figure clearly, before we can apprehend his thought. The same quality of style will be noticed in Bacon; for he, too, does his severest thinking in boldest metaphors. This habit is characteristic of the poetic mind. It is simply the power of condensing much thought into brief expression. It is because lie has that power pre- eminently, that Shakespeare is quoted more frequently than any other English writer. SHAKESPEARE. 113 His Influence in the History of our Language. It is noticeable that he left no impress upon the political life of his nation. But upon the spirit of social sympathy, upon the spirit of historical inquiry, and, most of all, upon the history of his language, his influence was powerful and has been lasting. To him, more than to any other man since Chaucer, the English language is indebted. 1611.] The common version of the Bible, made in 1611, and the writings of Shakespeare, have been the conservators of English speech. The general reading of two books that are models of simplicity, of sincerity in expres- sion, and of discrimination in the choice of words, has given to the millions of the English speaking race a rich and con- stant vocabulary. It was nearly three centuries ago that Shakespeare wrote, yet we read him to-day to find that, while he made the language of his predecessors obsolete, his vocabulary * has withstood the assaults of time, and is still fresh and vigorous. Of his plays, fifteen were printed during his lifetime, probably without his sanction. He was careless of the fate of his works, leaving them to the mercy of speculating pub- lishers. This indifference to the preservation of his most famous writing, his early abandonment of the stage, and some allusions in his sonnets, give much reason for thinking that he was not well pleased with his calling. The first edition of his plays, a folio edited by his former comrades, Heminge and Con dell, appeared in 1623. A second edition followed in 1632, and a third in 1663. Another folio in 1685 supplied the demands of his English readers, until Nicholas Eowe published the first critical edition in 1709. * " An examination of the vocabulary of Shakespeare will show that ont of the fifteen thousand words which compose it, not more than five or six hundred have gone out of currency or changed their meaning, and of these, some no doubt are- misprints, some borrowed from obscure provincial sources, and some, words for which there is no other authority, and which probably never were recognized as lunL:iish. ,, — Marsh's Lectures on the English Language, p. 264. 114 SHAKERPRARH. His Sonnets. The sonnets of Shakespeare (88) possess a peculiar interest, not only from their intrinsic beauty, but also from the fact that they contain allusions to the per- sonal feelings of their author, — allusions which point to some deep disappointment in love and friendship. They were first printed in 1609, though, from references found in con- temporary writings, it is clear that many of them had been composed previously. They are one hundred and fifty-four in number. Some of them are evidently addressed to a man, while others are as plainly intended for a woman. Through all of them there Hows a current of sadness, dis- content, and wounded affection, which bears every mark of being the expression of a real sentiment. No clew, how- ever, has as yet been discovered by which we may hope to trace the persons to whom these poems are addressed, or the painful events to which they allude. Had his dramatic works been unwritten, these sonnets, together with his early amatory poems, would have given him rank among the most brilliant poets of his age ; but the superior glory of his dramas overshadows the minor works. Shakespeare's writings are often censured on account oi their obscenity. With but one or two exceptions his plays, as they are placed upon the modern stage, are much ex- purgated. The apology for this defect is plain and satis- factory. He was writing at a time when, in every circle of society, there was license in language. What is to us shockingly obscene in many of his passages, was no trans- gression of propriety in his day. In this very particular lie is remarkably pure in comparison with his contemporary dramatists. That he could not have been grossly indelicate is evident to all who appreciate the tenderness with which he guards purity in his impersonations. The works which he has left show such stores of knowl- edge, such powers of discrimination. BUoh resources of wit, such pathos, such exhaustlessness of language, such scope SHAKESPEARE. 115 of imagination, as can be found in no other English poet. Moreover, he seems to have been a symmetrical man. The fact that, working in a defamed profession, he commanded respect ; the fact that, being the most eminent of poets, he was at the same time successful in practical affairs; and the fact that, out of the resources of his mind, he has drawn every phase of humanity, indicate his own completeness and balance of character. In the large library of volumes which discuss the life and the literature of Shakespeare, the following works and brief papers will be of special interest to the student who is beginning to form an opinion of the dramatist :— The first volume of White's edition of Shakespeare, Hudson's Shakespeare's Life, Art, and Charac- ters, Whipple's essay on The Literature of the Age of Elizabeth, Taine's English Literature, Vol. I., p. 296, seq., Reed's British Poets, Vol. I., Lecture V., De Quincey's Works, Vol. H., Coleridge's Works, Vol. IV., Giles's Human Life in Shakespeare, J. R. Lowell's essay Among My Books. Separate plays of Shakespeare edited by H. N. Hudson, or those edited by W. J. Rolfe should be used by the student. In this chapter we have considered:— William Shakespeare. 1. His Career as a Dramatist. 2. His Early Non-Dramatic Poems* 3. Classification of His Plays, 4. His Comprehension of Nature. 5. His Delineation of Character. 6. The Origin of His Plots. 7. His Metaphorical Style. 8. His Influence in the History of our Language. 9. His Sonnets. CHAPTER X. THE SHAKESPEAREAN DRAMATISTS. THE age of Elizabeth and James I. produced a galaxy of great dramatic poets. In the general style of their writings they bear a strong resemblance to Shakespeare ; and, indeed, many of the peculiar merits of their great prototype may be discovered in his contemporaries. Intensity of pathos hardly less touching than that of Shakespeare, may be found in the dramas of Ford ; gallant animation and dignity in the dialogues of Beaumont and Fletcher ; deep emotion in the sombre scenes of Webster ; noble moral eleva- tion in the graceful plays of Massinger ; but in Shakespeare, and only in Shakespeare, do we see the union of the most opposite qualities of the poet, the observer, and the philosopher. BEN JONSON. " He did a little too much Romanize our tongue."— John Dryden. " Jonson possessed all the learning that was wanting to Shakespeare, and wanted all the genius which the other possessed."— David Hume. " Then Jonson came, instructed from the school, To please in method, and invent by rule ; His studious patience and laborious art By regular approach essay'd the heart."— Samuel Johnson. " Many were the wit-combats betwixt him [Shakespeare! and Ben Jonson ; which two I behold like a Spanish great galleon and an English man-of-war ; Master Jonson, like the former, was bnlll far higher in learning ; solid, but slow in his performances. Shakespeare, with the English man-of-war, lesser in hulk but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, (nek about, and take advantage of til winds by the quickness of his wit and invention."— Thomas Fuller, 1662. M I was yesterday invited to a solemn supper by Ben Jonson, where there was good company, excellent cheer, choice wines, and jovial welcome. One thing inter- vened which almost spoilt the relish for the rest— that Ben betran to engross all the discourse ; to vapour extremely of himself ; and by vilifying others to magnify BEN" JONSON. 117 his own name. T. Ca. [Thomas Carew] buzzed me in the ear, that Ben had barrelled up a great deal of knowledge, yet it seems he had not read the ethics, which, amongst other precepts of morality, forbid self-commendations, declaring it to be an ill-favored solecism in good manners. ''''—James Howell, 1636. B. 1573.] The name which stands next to that of Shakespe&ie D. 1637.] in this list is that of Ben Jonson, (89, 90). Although compelled by his step-father to follow the trade of a bricklayer, he succeeded in making himself one of the most learned men of the age.* After a short service as a soldier in the Low Countries, where he distinguished himself by his courage in the field, he began his theatrical career at about twenty years of age, when we find him attached as an actor to one of the minor theatres, called the Curtain. His success as a performer is said to have been very small ; probably on account of his unattractiveness of person. Having killed a tellow-actor in a duel, while still a young man, he was (to use his own words) " brought near the gallows." While in prison awaiting his trial, he was converted to the Roman Catholic faith ; but twelve years afterwards he returned to the Protestant Church. Jonson, like Shakespeare, probably began his dramatic work by recasting old plays. His first original piece, the comedy Every Man in His Humor, is assigned to the year 1596. As first repre- sented it was a failure, and Shakespeare, then at the height of his popularity, is said to have interested himself in behalf of the young aspirant, suggesting changes in the play, securing its acceptance by the managers of the Globe, and himself taking a prominent part, when, two years later, it was brought out with triumphant success. Thus, probably, was laid the foundation of that sincere and endur- ing attachment between the two poets, which is commemorated by many pleasant anecdotes of their genial social intercourse, as well as by that enthusiastic eulogy in which Jonson has honored the genius of his friend. Jonson's literary reputation was established by this * The story is told of Jonson that his fondness for study tempted him to carry books in his pocket while working at his trade, in order that he might improve leisure moments by refreshing his memory upon his favorite passages in classical authors, and that one day, while working on the scaffolding of a building at Lin- coln's Inn. a lawyer heard him recite a passage of Homer with surprising appre- ciation, was attracted to him, and, upon discovering his thirst for learning, gave him opportunities for renewing his studies at the University of Cambridge. 118 BEN JON SON. fortunate reproduction of his comedy. Henceforward, for more than a quarter of a century, though the success of individual playg may have fluctuated, be held rank as the most prominent figure in the literary society of the day. Jonsou's prosperity and intellectual power reached their cul- mination between 1603 and 1616. In the former year The FaU of Sejanus, a tragedy, appeared, followed in rapid succession by some of his finest works, — Volpone, Epicene, The Alchy mint, and Catiline. He was frequently employed by the Court in arranging those splendid and fantastic entertainments called ?nasques, in which he exhibited his stores of invention and all the resources of his pro- found and elegant scholarship. In 1616 he received the office of Laureate, with an annual pension of one hundred" marks; and though writing little between 1616 and 1625, his fortunes suffered no material abatement until the death of James I., in 1625. Dis^ appointment, poverty, ill-health, and too great fondness for suck, combined their forces to break down the veteran. Many of his later plays were unsuccessful; and in one of them, The Nctr Inn, acted in 1630, he complains bitterly of the hostility and bad taste of his audience. He died in 1637, and was buried in an upright posture in the Poet's Corner of Westminster Abbey. Above his grave a plain stone bears the laconic inscription, " O rare Ben Johnson."* Jonson's Dramatic Works. His dramatic works are of various degrees of merit, ranging from an excellence unsurpassed by any contemporary except Shakespeare, to the lowest point of laborious mediocrity. lie seems to have won his high place among the writers of the Elizabethan era, not so much by virtue of creative imagination, or by any strictly poetic faculties, as by weight and breadth of understanding, quickness of fancy, power of analysis, and preternatural keenness of observation. Thorough and extm- si\e study strengthened these native qualities, hut could not supply the deficiencies. His tragedies, The FaU t(f Sqjamu and OatiMnei Conspiracy, display the richea of a profound ami learned intellect They reproduce the details of Roman manners, religion and senti- * In that inscription hiB name id spelled " JoAuhou." The cominou spelling ia *Jouson." BEN JONSON, 119 ment, with minute fidelity, and contain passages of wonderful force. But as wholes, they are stiff and lifeless, lacking that spirit of reality through which Shakespeare could "transform a series of incidents into a succession of events." It is mechanical, not vital energy with which Jonson has endowed his creations. Nor is it strange that there was this difference between these two dramatists, Shakespeare disregarded the traditional laws of dramatic poetry and wrote with unfettered hand. Free from restraint, his English nature expressed itself in a drama that was true to the spirit of his age and his nation. His plays, therefore, have what we call reality. Jonson, as we have said, was a profound classical scholar. He was an enraptured admirer of the great works of the classic drama. The laws by which Greek dramatists had attained their success were to him the essential laws of a true drama ; and as a student of dramatic art and a dramatist, he must obey those laws. By so much as he violated them, he was false to his profession. As a proof of his earnestness in holding this opinion, read his prologue to Every Man in His Rumor. In his attempt to be loyal to his culture he placed himself under a bondage which made it impos- sible for him to give characters a native freedom. Bound to observe the unities of time, place, and action,* he could not portray life naturally. But worse than the defects springing from Jonson's servitude to classical laws is his singular want of what is called humanity. His humor is never genial, his fun never infectious; his point of view is always that of the satirist. He takes his materials, both for intrigue and for character, from odious sources. For instance, the action of two of his finest plays, Volpone and The Alchymist, turns entirely upon a series of ingenious cheats and rascalities, all the persons being either scoundrels or their dupes. Nevertheless, Jonson's knowledge is so vast, the force and vigor of his expression so unbounded, the tone of his morality so high and manly, that his plays retain a high place in literature. * Three rules were carefully observed in the composition of a Grecian Drama : 1. That there should be a distinct plot with one main action, to which all the minor parts of the play should contribute. 2. That the incidents of the play should naturally come within one day. 3. That the entire action should naturally occur iu one place. These three rules are known as the Unity of Action, the Unity of Time, and the Unity of Place, or as " the dramatic unities." 120 BEKJONSOH. His faults were the typical faults of the conceited man; his virtues were his own. Egotistical to the last degree, self-willed and overbearing, he was yet frank, generous, and social in temper, and truly upright and earnest in purpose. At the famous " wit- combats " of the Mermaid Tavern he was the self-constituted auto- crat. He scrupled not to lay down the laws of the drama to Shakespeare himself. In Every Man Out of His Humor, and in Cynthia's Reveh, be proclaimed his mission as a dramatic reformer ; and he satirized " the ragged follies of the time " with such savage acrimony as provoked a storm of recrimination from his lampooned contemporaries. Decker and Marston were his chief opponents in the literary war that ensued. They accused him of plagiarism, they mocked his bombast, they questioned his learning. The Poetaster, The Tale of a Tub, and many passages in Jonson's other plays, attest the vigor with which he bore his part. Yet the same egotism which rendered him insensible to Shakespeare's influence guarded him against servile imitation, and made him, next to Shakespeare, the most original dramatist of the era; and the intrepid self-confidence which would guide, not follow, popular taste, kept his works pure from the gross immorality which stains the brightest pages of Beaumont and Fletcher. Doubtless his resolute self-assertion aided him in winning recognition for the admirable qualities of his heart and head. There is reason to be- lieve that his social position was superior to Shakespeare's; and in an age when play-writing was hardly considered M a creditable employ," Clarendon affirms that u his conversation was very good, and with men of the best note." It is remarkable that while Jonson in his plays is distinguished for that hardness and dryness which we have endeavored to point out, the same poet, in another field, should be remarkable for elegance and refinement of invention and style. In the thirty-five Masques and Court Entertainment*, which he composed for the amusement of the king and the great nobles, as well as in the charming fragment of a pastoral drama entitled the Sad Shepherd, Jonson appears quite another man. Everything that the richest and most delicate invention could supply, aided by extensive, choice and recondite rending, is lavished upon these courtly com- pliments. Their gracefulness almost makes us forget their adula- tion and servility. AjDODg the most beautiful of these masques we BEtf JOtfSOtf. 121 may mention Paris Anniversary, the Masque of Oberon, and the Masque of Queens. Besides his dramatic works, Jonson left writings in both prose and verse. The former portion, called Discoveries, contains many valuable notes on books and men — those on Shake- speare and Bacon being the most interesting. As a literary man Jonson stands alone. All critics say it ; he says it. In pedantry he was as distinguished as he was for scholarship. His diction was as rotund as his figure. While you read his writings some one is continually telling you that the thoughts and the words are weighty and wonderful, and that one is Ben Jonson. He was his own ideal. He was a genuine Englishman. Shakespeare was a cosmopolitan. Jonson was to Shakespeare what England is to the world. While we may smile at some of Jonson's traits, we admire the resoluteness of purpose that lies behind his self-confi- dence ; we admire his lofty theory of virtue, though his own vices are not concealed ; we admire the learning which supports his pedantry ; we admire the bravery that comes to the rescue of his boasting. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. Superior to Ben Jonson in variety and animation, though not equal to him in solidity of knowledge, were Francis Beaumont (1586-1616) and John Fletcher (1576-1625) (91, 92), by birth and by education of a higher social status than their fellow-drama- tists; Beaumont being the son of a judge, and Fletcher the son of a bishop (91)- Concerning the details of their lives and characters we possess but vague and scanty information. Their Literary Partnership. There seems to be reason for ascribing to Beaumont more of the sublime and tragic genius, to Fletcher most of gayety and comic humor. Fletcher was the more prolific and versatile writer, and the volatile creativeness of his fancy may have been restrained and directed by the sounder judgment of his friend.* But so blended is their glory that neither biography nor * " There was a wonderful similarity between Mr. Francis Beaumont and Mr. John Fletcher, which caused the clearness of friendship between them. I have heard Dr. John Earle, since Bishop of Sarum, say, who knew them, that his (Beaumont's) business was to correct the snperflowings of Mr. Fletcher's wit. They lived together on the Bankside, not far from the playhouse ; both bachelors, had one bench of the house between them, which they did so admire, th" same cioathes, cloaks, edc., between them."— Aubrey, 1697. 6 122 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. criticism has been able to separate their names. Their respective plays cannot be indicated with certainty, their tastes cannot be dis- tinguished, their talents cannot be discriminated. Charles Lamb praises the "noble practice" of the time when eminent authors shared each other's labors and each other's fame. Tt must have been remembrance of the marvelous literary partnership existing be- tween Beaumont and Fletcher that prompted his praise. A thought beyond them would have reminded him of the feuds of the Eliza- bethan authors, of the criminations, recriminations, and Scandals of that time. Human nature had its selfishness and its jealousies- then, and tiie great dramatists had their share of the weaknesses of human nature. Greene hated Marlowe, and was jealous of Shakespeare ; Marlowe was indignant at Nash ; Chapman shot poisoned arrows at Ben Jonson, and Jonson applied his cudgels to the backs of Decker and Marston. No niche in the temple of literary fame is large enough to receive two men, save that 1606 f J in which Beaumont and Fletcher appear. Their part- nership was formed when Beaumont was twenty Mid Fletcher thirty years of age, and was continued for ten years. Their Dramatic Works. Their works afford constant evidence of the influence and inspiration of Shakespeare ; and several of t hi r plays, in which the graceful, humorous, and romantic elements pre- dominate, are by no means unworthy of comparison with comedies as Much Ado About Nothing, As You tike ft, and M for Measure. But in the delineation of sustained passion tie \ are Immeasurably inferior to their master. The range of their char- acter-painting is comparatively limited, and their pathos is tender rather than deep. Their numerous portraits of valiant soldiers may be pronounced unequaled, and they are skilled in depicting noble and magnanimous reeling. It is in their pieces of mixed sentiment, containing comic matter intermingled with romantic and ftl incidents, that their powers are best displayed. Of this q] better examples can be selected than the comedies of the [{/•other, Rule a Wife and liter a It,/',, Beggori Busk, and the Spamth Curate. In the more fan-ieal intrigues and ehai such as are to bo found ID the Liille Fiuieh Lamy r, the n /later, the Soornful Lady, the eccentricity is laughably extravagant ; aud the authors seem to enjoy the amusement of heaping up PHILIP MASSItfGER. 123 absurdity upon absurdity out of the very exuberance of their humor- ous conceits. Some of their pieces furnish stores of antiquarian and literary material ; for example, the Beggars' Bush contains abun- dant illustrations of the slang dialect ; and the Knight of the Burning Pestle is a storehouse of ancient English ballad poetry. They occasionally attempt some good-humored banter of Shakespeare. In the play just mentioned, the droll, pathetic speech on the installation of Clause as King of the Gypsies is a parody of Cran- mer's speech in the last scene of Henry VIII. The pastoral drama of The Faithful Shepherdess was written by Fletcher alone. Its exquisitely delicate sentiments are too often soiled by passages oi' loose and vicious thinking. Ben Jonsou's best poetry, The Sad Shepherd, and Milton's Gomus, were inspired by this poem. Philip Massinger (1584-1640) spent two years in the University of Oxford. His works prove that he had an intimate knowledge of the classical writers of antiquity. In 1604 he began his theatrical life, and continuing it until his death, found it an uninterrupted succession of struggles, disappointments, and distress. Unlike Beaumont and Fletcher, who were servile in their deference to the Court, he was an outspoken critic of the government, and an advo- cate of republican principles. According to the practice of the time, he frequently wrote in partnership with other playwrights— the names of Decker, Field, Rowley, and Middleton being often found in conjunction with his. We have the titles of thirty-seven plays, either entirely or partly of his composition. Only eighteen of them are extant. " Eleven of them in manuscript were in pos- session of a Mr. Warburton, whose cook, desirous of saving what she considered better paper, used them in the kindling of fires and the basting of turkeys, and would doubtless have treated the manuscript of the Faery Queene and the Novum Organum in the same way, had Providence seen fit to commit them to her master's custody." * The best known are The Virgin Martyr (93), The Fatal Dowry, The Duke of Milan, The Bondman, The City Madam, and The New Way to Pay Old Debts. The last named is occasionally put upon the modern stage, and contains the famous character of Sir Giles Overreach. * Whipple's Literature of the Aye of Elizabeth. 124 JOHN FORD. This writer has the power of delineating the sorrows of pure and lofty minds exposed to unmerited suffering. Massinger had no aptitude for pleasantries ; but a desire to please the mixed audi- ences of those days tempted him to introduce stupid buffoonery and loathsome indecency into his plays. His style and versification are singularly sweet and noble. No writer of that day is so free from archaisms and obscurities; and perhaps there is none in whom more constantly appear the force, harmony and elevation of which the English language is susceptible. Dignity, tenderness and grace, are the qualities in which he excels. At the close of a life of pov- erty he died in obscurity, and in the notice of his death the parish register names him u Philip Massinger a stranger." To John Ford (1586-1639 ?) the passion of unhappy love has furnished almost exclusively the subject-matter of his plays. He was a lawyer, who found time to use a poetic pen while carrying on the work of his profession. He began his dramatic career by working with Decker. One of their productions was the touching tragedy of the Witch of Edmonton, in which popular superstitions are skilfully combined with a pathetic story of love and treachery. The works attributed to him are not numerous. He wrote the tragedies of the Brother and Sister, the Broken Heart (beyond all comparison his most powerful work), a graceful historical drama on the subject of Perlcin Warbeck, and the following romantic or tragic-comic pieces : the Lover's Melancholy (94), Love's Sacrifice, Fancies Chaste and Nolle, and the Lady's Trial. His personal char- acter, if we may judge from slight allusions found in contemporary writings, was sombre and retiring; and in his works pensive tenderness and pathos are carried to a higher pitch than in any other dramatist. John Webster is perhaps the most original genius among Hie Shakespearean dramatists of the second order. But one fact in his biography is known, — he belonged to the Merchant Tailors' Com- pany. His writing has something of that dark, bitter, and woful expression which thrills us in the work of Dante. The number of his known works is very small ; the most celebrated among them is the tragedy of the Duchess of Malfy (95) : but others are not inferior to that strange piece in intensity of feeling and grimness of treatment. Besides the above we have Tin /> wTl LttU Case;Guise; or the Massaers of France, in which tin- St. Bartholo- JOHN WEBSTEB. 125 mew massacre is, of course, the main action ; the White Detail, and Appius and Virginia. We thus see that he worked by preference on themes which offered a field for the portrayal of the darker passions and of the moral tortures of their victims. As Charles Lamb says, "To move a horror skilfully, to touch a soul to the quick, to lay upon fear as much as it can bear, to wean and weary a life till it is ready to drop, and then step in with mortal instru- ments to take its last forfeit ; this only a Webster can do." As we pass on to the lower grades of dramatic talent, we are almost bewildered by the number and variety of its manifestations. Two writers, however, should have notice : Thomas Decker usually appears as a fellow-laborer with other dramatists, yet in the few pieces attributed to his unassisted pen, he shows great elegance of language and deep tenderness of sentiment. Thomas Heywood exhibits a graceful fancy, and one of his plays, A Woman Killed with Kindness, is among the most touching of the period. The Close of the Dramatic Era. The dramatic era of Eliza- beth and James closes with James Shirley (1596-1666), whose comedies, though in many respects bearing the same general char- acter as the works of his great predecessors, still seem the earnest of a new period (96)- He excels in the delineation of gay and fashionable society ; and his dramas are more remarkable for ease, grace, and animation, than for portraiture of character. The glory of the English drama had almost departed ; and its extinction was hastened by the breaking out of the Civil War in 1642 and by the enactments of Parliament in 1642, 1647 and 1648, which closed the theatres and suppressed the dramatic profession. From that date until the Restoration, all theatrical performances were illegal ; but with the connivance of Cromwell, Davenant gave dramatic enter- tainments at Rutland House ; and upon the great Protector's death in 1658, he ventured to re-open a public theatre in Drury Lane. With this event began an entirely new chapter in the history of the English stage. The Elizabethan Drama ia the most wonderful and majestic outburst of literary genius that any age has yet seen. It displays richness and fertility of imagination combined with the greatest 126 THE ELIZABETHAN DRAMA. vigor of familiar expression ; an intimate union of the common and the refined ; bold flights of fancy and scrupulous fidelity to actual reality. The great object of these dramatists being to produce intense impressions upon a miscellaneous audience, they sacrificed everything to strength and nature. Their writings reflect not only faithful images of human character and passion under every con- ceivable condition, not only the strongest as well as the most deli- cate coloring of fancy and imagination, but also the profoundest and simplest precepts derived from the practical experience of life. For brief discussions of authors named iu this chapter see Hazlitt's Works, Vol. m., Coleridge's Works, Vol. IV., Lamb's Works, Vol. IV., Hallam's Litera- ture of Europe, Vol. III. In this chapter we have considered: — Shakespearean Dramati sts. 1. Ben Jonson,—His Dramatic Works. 2. Beaumont and Fletcher ,— Their Literary Partnership, — Their Dramatic Works. 3. Philip Massinger, John Ford, John Webster, Thomas Decker, and Tliomas Hey wood. 4. The Close of the Dramatic Era. 5. The Elizabethan Drama* CHAPTEB XI. THE PROSE LITERATURE OF THE ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. THE object of the present chapter is to trace the nature and the results of that revolution in philosophy brought about by the writings of Bacon ; and at the same time to give a general view of the prose literature of the Elizabethan era. As Bacon was the grandest thinker of that age who wrote in prose, he must be the principal figure of the chapter ; and other authors of inferior merit must be but briefly mentioned. Much of the peculiarly practical tendency of the political and philosophical literature of our own time can be traced to its be- ginning in the Elizabethan era, when, as a result of the Reforma- tion, education first found many devotees among English laymen, and prose literature, for the first time, was generally used for other than ecclesiastical purposes. The clergy had no longer the monop- oly of that learning and of those acquirements which, during preceding centuries, had given them the monopoly of power. Lay- men were wielding the pen. It must be admitted that the prose of that era makes but a poor figure when compared with the splendor of the Elizabethan poetry. In the humble department of historical chronicles, John Stow, before the end of the sixteenth century, published his Summary oj * English Chronicles, Annals and A Survey of London ; and Raphael Holinshed, who died in 1580, wrote the pages from which Shakespeare drew the material for some of his half-legendary, half- historical dramas, and for the majority of his purely historical plays. Sir Walter Raleigh. One of the most extraordinary men of this era was Sir Walter Raleigh (1552-1618), whose romantic career belongs to the political rather than to the literary history of England (45, 56). He was among the foremost courtiers of the 128 SIR WALTER RALEIGH. Queen ; he was a bold navigator, exploring unknown regions of the globe; he was a brave soldier, winning laurels on the Continent and in Ireland. When James I. came to the throne, Raleigh's fortunes declined. He was unjustly charged with treason, was tried, and sentenced to the Tower, where he was imprisoned for thirteen years. During this weary imprisonment he devoted himself to literary and scientific work ; — some of the time experimenting in chemistry with the hope of discovering the philosopher's stone, and much of the time, with the help of friends, writing his History <>f the World. By that work he won his literary fame. Later histo- ries have shown that what he supposed to be historical facts were merely fancies, and that many of his theories were groundless; still he holds and deserves the honor of being the pioneer in the de- partment of dignified historical writing. After his long imprison- ment he was sent to South America in quest of riches for the king. The expedition was unfortunate. One of Raleigh's exploits enraged the Spanish Court, and to appease the wrath of the Spaniards, Raleigh was seized upon his return to England, and was beheaded. ^ man of remarkable patience and resolution, and showing many signs of powerful intellect, Raleigh must have been one of the eminent literary men of his age, had his life been devoted to letters. He was the founder of that famous "Mermaid Club" in which Jonson, Fletcher, probably Shakespeare, and other wits of the day, gathered to enjoy each other's conversation; and was himself accounted one of the most charming members of that literary company. His resources of character were equal to his reputation, for in the most desperate circumstances he was thoroughly self-possessed. In his trial for treason, when the Attorney-General, hurling fierce invectives at him, said, u I want words to express thy viperous treasons," " True," said Raleigh, u for you have spoken the same thing half a dozen times over already ; " and when he was brought to the block, taking the axe in his hand, he ran his fingers over its keen edge, smiling as he said, "This is a sharp medicine, but it will cure all diseases." It is to be regretted that he did not use his ever-present wit, his poetic talent and his ready pen, in making more varied and more valuable contributions to our literature. Richard Hooker (1553-1600), a man of piety and vast learning, RICHARD HOOKER. 129 was the great champion of the principles of the Church of England against the encroachments of Puritan sentiments. He was for four years a Fellow of the University of Oxford, where he gained fame as a lecturer on Oriental literature. In 1585 his eloquence and learning obtained for him the eminent post of Master of the Temple of London. Here his colleague, Walter Travers, propounded doctrines of church government similar to those of Calvin, and therefore incompatible with Hooker's opinions. Hooker was the morning lecturer and Travers held forth in the afternoon. Thus, it was said, "the forenoon sermon spoke Canterbury, and the afternoon Geneva." The mildness and modesty of Hooker's char- acter made controversy odious to him. He induced his ecclesias- tical superior to remove him to the more congenial duties of a country parish, and there he devoted the remainder of his life to that work which has placed him among the most distinguished of Anglican divines, and among the best prose-writers of his age. The title of this work is A Treatise on the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity (57), and its purpose is to investigate and define the principles which underlie the right of the Church to claim obedience from its members, and the duty of the members to render obedience to the Church. But while thus fortifying the organization of the English Church against the attacks of the Roman Catholics on the one hand and of the Puritans on the other, Hooker has built up his arguments upon those eternal truths which are the foundation of all law, all duty, and all rights, political as well as religious. The Ecclesiastical Polity is a work of profound and cogent reasoning. It gave new dignity to English prose literature. Its style is wholly free from pedantry, clear and vigorous. To Hooker be- longs the glory of first fully developing the English language as a vehicle of refined and philosophic thought. The breadth and power of his mind are fitly expressed in the stately majesty of his periods.* * One of the most famous sentences in our literature, found in the first hook of The Ecclesiastical Polity, reads as follows : " Of law there can he no less acknowl- edged than that her seat is the hosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world: all things in heaven and earth do her homage ; the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power ; hoth angels and men, and crea- tures of what condition soever, though each in different sort and manner, yet all with uniform consent, admiring her as the mother of their peace and joy.' 1 130 BACOI FRANCIS BACON. "The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind. 1 '— Pope. " The great secretary of nature and all learning."— Walton. *' He had the sound, distinct, comprehensive knowledge of Aristotle, with »11 th# beautiful lights, graces, and embellishments of Cicero."— Addison. 44 He may be compared with those liberators of nations who have given laws by which they might govern themselves, and retained no homage but their gratitude." — Ilallam. 44 Who is there that upon hearing the name of Lord Bacon does not instantly recognize everything of genius the most profound, everything of literature the most extensive, everything of discovery the most penetrating, everything of observation of human life the most distinguishing and reflned."— Burke. 44 My conceit of his person was never increased towards him by his place or honors ; but I have and do reverence him for the greatness that was only proper to himself: in that he seemed to me ever, by his work, one of the greatest men and most worthy of admiration that had been in many ages. In his adversity I ever prayed God would give him strength; for greatness he could not want."— Ben Jonson. B. 1561.] In his manhood Francis Bacon was extrava- D. 1626.] gant, fond of display, a servile courtier, while everywhere a close observer, a keen critic, and a profound thinker. His seemingly incongruous qualities, if native to his character, had heen fostered by the fortune of his childhood and youth. He was the younger and the favorite son of Sir Nicholas Bacon. His father, the Lord-Keeper of the Great Seal of England, was one of the statesmen who gave the reign of Elizabeth its glory* His mother was a woman of stern integrity of character, trained in the learning of tfi at day. Under parental in1lucn« which were blended dignity, vigor, intelligence, refinement, and practical shrewdness, in the elegance of an English noble- man's palace, amid the clustering associations of cultivated society, there was every opportunity for the development at extravagant tastes, of oourtiership, of self-esteem, of observa- tion, and of thoughtfulness. In boyhood his body was very BACON. 131 delicate, his mind was precocious. The great Queen, petting him, would call him her little Lord-Keeper. When thirteen years old he was sent to Cambridge. Life at the university roused a spirit courageous enough to attack the mon- strous system of scholastic learning, and honest enough to tell the world that what they had been reverencing as a divine philosophy was, as they were beginning to suspect, false and effete. His observation discovered that in the system of instruction at the universities there was slavish deference to authority, that men did not dare to think be- yond the thoughts of former generations, that progress was thereby impossible. In his fellow-students he saw men like " becalmed ships, that never move but by the wind of other men's breath, and have no oars of their own to steer withal." At sixteen he went to live in France as an attache of the English ambassador. There he saw new phases of the courtier's life, studied the national character, and confirmed his opinions of the need of improvement in the intellectual pursuits of men. He must have displayed some talent in business affairs, for he gained the confidence of the ambas- sador, and was intrusted by him with despatches to the Queen. During the two years spent upon the Continent he was observing and studious, and was interested in gathering material for his first literary work, Of the State of Europe. In 1579 he was summoned to England on account of the death of his father. He was then nearly nineteen years old, without money, with only his ambition and his intellect to help him in winning his way to eminence. Living in that stirring age, schooled in the ways of the^vorld, knowing the methodless life of the professed philosophers, a mind as observing, as positive as his, necessarily resolved upon a definite pursuit, and established for itself certain principles of action. If we can detect that purpose and those prin- ciples, we may be able to understand some of the mysterious contrasts of his life. 132 BACON. It is reasonable for us to believe that he had become con- vinced — 1st. That learning was not doing the sort of work it should do for mankind. 2d. That whoever would inaugurate a reformation in learning must be a person eminent in the public confidence. 3d. That no person could attain eminence and public confidence who had not the sanction and patronage of the Court. 4th. That scholarly attainments, without the courtiers shrewdness, could not win the needed sanction and patron- age. Passages in his letters and the course he pursued, show that these were his earnest convictions. His Relations to Burleigh and to Essex. He promptly began the study of the law, and in 1582 was called to the bar. Those who condemn him say that he made servile and persistent appeals for patronage. He did beg of his uncle Burleigh, the Lord Treasurer, that some office, with light duties, and yet with generous compensation, might be given to him, in order that he might have the time and the means for becoming " a pioneer in the deep mines of truth." In one of his letters, he said that he had "vast contemplative ends," and that he had " taken all knowledge for his pro- vince." These earnest declarations doubtless seemed to the sturdy old uncle like the aspirations of a dreamer. Me had no faith in the practical shrewdness of his nephew, and therefore pushed him away from t lie approaches to prefer- ment Failing in his repeated attempts to gain the favor of Burleigh, Bacon sought and won the friendship of Kssex, his uncle's rival. Essex gave him Urge sums of money, ami tried, unsuccessfully, to secure his political advancement. Bacon soon discovered that Essex was a dangerous friend, because a reckless man. Their intimacy ceased. In * BACOK. 133 few years Bacon, having been appointed Queen's counsel, was called upon to prosecute his old friend for acts of treason. The charges were proved, and the penalty of death was inflicted. For his part in the prosecution Bacon has been accused of ingratitude and of most malicious selfish- ness. It has been said that he might have saved his friend, or, at least, from very shame, might have refused to appear against him. But the truth seems to be that Bacon did all that he could do to prevent Essex from pursuing his mad follies ; that in the trial he dealt as gently with him as he could ; and that when, by the Queen's command, he pre- pared the government's defence for its treatment of Essex, his expressions were so moderate as to call forth from the angry Queen the rebuking words, " I see old love is not easily forgotten." The charge that Bacon desperately sought the life of Essex, for the sake of ingratiating himself with Elizabeth, is altogether improbable. His Political Success. He was now on the way to high political honors. In the House of Commons he was recognized as a masterly orator; * in his profession he was renowned for brilliancy and learning. He was still seeking advancement, was using persistent and studied complaisance towards the Court. But surely he was not actuated merely by the in- fatuation of the politician. His early ambition for the reform of learning was still inspiring him. With all his eloquence he urged the government to aid the reforms which he had projected. The busy whirl of his public life * " There happened in my time one noble speaker who was full of gravity in his speaking. His language, when he could spare or pass a jest, was nobly censorious. No man ever spoke more neatly, more pressly, more weightily, or suffered less emptiness, less idleness in what he uttered. No member of his speech but con- sisted of his own graces. His hearers could not cough or look aside from him with- out loss. He commanded where he spoke, and had his judges angry and pleased at his devotion. No man had their affections more in his power. The fear of every man that heard him was lost he should make an end. 1 '— Ben Jonson, reftrring 1a Bacon. 134 BACON. did not keep him away from the study of practical philoso- phy. His lament is pitiful as again and again he tells of the limited time he has to give to his inquiries after the truths of nature. These phases of his life indicate that the mors reasonable as well as the more generous view of his servility to the Court shows him to have been seeking something beyond political success. The story is told that when Bacon was a little boy the Queen asked him his age. He replied, "I am two years younger than your Majesty's happy reign." That was an answer for a native courtier, a devotee of royalty, to make. When he was sixty years old, and was selected as the scape- goat to bear away the abuses of James's administration, he bowed his head, submissively acknowledged his faults, and received the punishment which a cowardly king permitted to be inflicted upon him. That was an act for a devotee of royalty to perform. From childhood, when he gave his honest compliment to the Queen, until old age, when he surrendered his office and some of his honor for the comfort of the King, he showed to the English crown a loyalty, a reverence, which seems to us like superstition. For this he has been condemned by many an historian, and has bean lashed by the scourge of many a critic. When he is named as the apostle of progress his revilers allege that he was the blind advocate of kingcraft. Thai there is ground for race statement cannot be denied. It covers nearly all the charges that are made against hil character; still it does not make him a hypocrite. His reverence for a crown was inbred. Nicholas Bacon, the Keeper of the Great Seal, had taught his son to cherish a religious loyalty for the person who might be sitting on the throne of England. On the coronation of James I., in 1603, Bacon was knighted, and at the same time was married to Alice Barn- ham, the daughter of a London alderman. He was after- wards elected to more than one Parliament, and was ap- BACON. 135 pointed Solicitor-General, then Attorney-General, then Lord Keeper, with the title of Baron Verulam, and his titles were finally completed by those of Lord-Chancellor and Viscount St. Albans. In the discharge of his varied and great responsibilities the versatility and energy of his genius were well displayed. His loyalty to the Crown was hearty, his reward was the most humiliating punishment which a resentful public could heap upon the servant of a despised king. It was his deference to a weak and arrogant monarch, combined, it may have been, with unbridled personal ambi- tion, which made Bacon a scapegoat for the acts of follv marking the reign of James I. His Political Disgrace. His political disgrace occurred in 1621. He was convicted of corruption in office, was con- demned to lose the chancellorship, to pay a fine of forty thousand pounds, to be imprisoned during the King's pleasure, to be ineligible to any office in the state, and was forbidden to sit in Parliament, or to come within twelve miles of the court. But a remission of these penalties was soon granted, and. in 1624, an annual pension of twelve hundred pounds was bestowed upon him for life. The life of the fallen minister was prolonged for five years after his disgrace. In spite of his misfortunes and of his pecuniary embarrassments, those were his most fruitful years. He died in 1626. Riding in his carriage one spring day, when the snow was falling, it occurred to him that snow might serve as well as salt in preserving flesh. So stopping at a cabin by the roadside, he bought a fowl, for the purpose of trying the experiment. By the slight exposure he was chilled, and thrown into a sudden and fatal fever. To use the words of Lord Macaulay, " The great apostle of experi- mental philosophy was destined to be its martyr. " Bacon's Service to Science. In order to appreciate the 136 BACON. services which Bacon rendered to science, we must dismiss from our minds the common and erroneous idea that he wud an inventor or discoverer in any specific branch of knowledge. He attempted, not to teach the results of investigation, but to show the method by which investigations should be made. We must also remind ourselves of that philosophy which Bacon wished to supplant. It had nothing in com- mon with the practical science of modern times. It was the old Aristotelian philosophy robbed of its veneration for Nature and perverted by many unwarranted interpretations. We call it scholasticism. No one of his devotees was bold enough to step from the platform of authority. Aristotle, misrepresented, was respected as the dictator of all correct thinking. Verbal distinctions, not useful investigations, consumed the talents of the thoughtful ; quibbles took the place of earnest questionings. Failure to advance was due to no want of retirement and meditation, to no distaste for argument and wrangling. The intellect was in thraldom ; and reason was the vassal of a worthless faith. This scholas- tic period is generally spoken of as extending from the ninth to the close of the fifteenth century. It was the age of superstitions and of futile reasoning. Speculation was car- ried in every direction. Natural science, as well as psychol- ogy* was made the subject of vain imaginings. Like a huge breakwater this scholasticism skirted the sea of thought. For three centuries it had broken the wave of every advanc- ing opinion. But as the fifteenth century drew to its close the sea gave indications of an approaching storm, the sky was overcast by portentous clouds, wave after wave came rolling shoreward from the ocean of free thought, and, at last, the surge of the Reformation burst with terrifying roar against that time-worn scholasticism, tumbling it out of the way. Then thought advanced. The Aristotelian method of investigation, after it had been perverted by the schoolmen, was open to the charuu BACON. 137 of infertility — of being essentially unprogressive. Its prin- cipal aim was the attainment of abstract truth ; practical utility was regarded as an end which, whether attained or not, was beneath the dignity of the sage. The object of the Inductive Method, as proclaimed by Bacon, was fruit, — the improvement of the condition of mankind. He wished man to become " the minister and interpreter of nature." He would have the laws of nature understood, in order that they might be observed intelligently by the sailor, the farmer, the miner, by whomsoever might be a worker in the world. From the knowledge of the laws of nature, industries would be more effective, comforts would be multiplied, the condi- tion of man would be ameliorated. Those laws he would have discovered by means of a methodic, scientific observa- tion of the phenomena of nature. He gave induction its rightful place in philosophic method, he elaborated a plan for the collation of facts, he dictated rules for the estimate of their value. His system is contained in the series of works to which he intended to give the general title of Instauratio Magna, or The Great Institution of True Philosophy. Its scope is magnificent, and that is what displays the genius of the author. The Instauratio was to consist of six parts, of which the following is a short synopsis : I. Partitiones Scientiarum. This work includes his earlier treatise on The Advancement of Learning, and gives a general summary and classification of human knowledge, with indications of those branches in which science was specially defective. II. Novum Organum. This "new instrument" he de- scribes as "the science of a better and more perfect use of reason in the investigation of things, and of the true aids of the understanding." It sets forth the methods to be adopted in searching after truth, points out the principal sources of error in former times, and suggests the means of avoiding 138 BACON. errors in the future. Of the nine sections into which thia part of the work was divided, only the first was fully dis- cussed. III. Historia Naturalis. This part was designed to be a collection of well-observed facts and experiments in what we call Natural Philosophy and Natural History, and was to furnish the raw material to be used in the new method. Bacon's Sylva Sylvarum is a specimen of the work he would have done in this division of his Instauratio. His History of the Winds, of Life and Death, are also contributions to this division. IV. Scala Intellectus, the ladder of the mind. This fourth part was to give rules for the gradual ascent of the mind from particular instances or phenomena to principles more and more abstract. V. Prodromi. Prophecies, or anticipations of truths "hereafter to be verified," were to have furnished the ma- terial for this part. VI. Philosophia Secu?ida. This was intended to be the record of practical results springing from the application of the new method. But a small portion of the magnificent plan was executed. The founder himself presented no claims to the rank of a discoverer. His genius as a philosopher is displayed only in the comprehensiveness of his scheme. His greatness as a man appears in the inoisiveness and discrimination of bis thinking, in his brave declaration of the cause of faritket- ness in former philosophy, and in the sublime convietioii which prompted him to urge the improved method of in- vestigation, and to foretell what the future would bring. His keen thinking made him the intelligent critic of errors that had been ; his imagination made him the glowing prophet of the glory that was to be. His admirers overstate his work in the study of Nature. They find him the tot to expose the childish wisdom of his BACON. 139 predecessors, the first to announce the new era, the first to point out the direction in which discovery must move. The succeeding progress was in accordance with his prophecy; and therefore the modern reader is misled into calling Bacon the Father of Modern Philosophy. As Craik says, " The mistake is the same as if it were to be said that Aristotle was the father of poetry." Twenty centuries had elapsed after Aristotle had shown his method of searching after truth, before Bacon undertook to introduce a new method. Aristotle made thought active ; Bacon aimed to make it useful. Aristotle made logic the fundamental science, and considered metaphysics of greater importance than physics. His theory, imperfectly carried into practice, produced twenty centuries of fruitlessness ; two centuries and a half of the practical investigations which were advocated by Bacon, have revolutionized the literary, the commercial, the political, the scientific world. The ancients had a philosophy of words; Bacon called for a philosophy of works. His glory is founded upon a union of speculative power with practical utility, which were never so combined before. He neglected nothing as too small, despised nothing as too low, by which our happiness could be augmented; in him, above all, were combined boldness and prudence, the intensest enthusiasm, and the plainest common sense. It is probable that Bacon generally wrote the first sketch of his works in English, but afterwards caused them to be translated into Latin, which was in his time the language of science, and even of diplomacy. He is reported to have employed the services of many young men of learning as secretaries and translators ; among these the most remark- able is Hobbes, afterwards so celebrated as the author of the Leviathan. The style in which the Latin books of the Install- ratio were given to the world, though certainly not a model of classical purity, is weighty, vigorous, and picturesque. 140 BACON. His English Writings. Bacon's writings in English are numerous. The most important among them is the volume of Assay*, or Counsels Civil and Moral (58, 61), of which the first edition, containing ten essays, was published in 1597. The number gradually increased to fifty-eight, many of the later ones giving expression to the author's profound- est thought and richest fancy. These short papers discuss various subjects, from grave questions of morals down to the most trifling accomplishments. As specimens of intellectual activity, of original thinking and aptness of illustration, they surpass any other writing of equal extent in our litera- ture. "Few books are more quoted It would be somewhat derogatory to a man of the slightest claim to polite letters were he unacquainted with the Essays of Bacon."* They illustrate the author's comprehensiveness of mind and his wonderful power of condensing thought. In his style there is the same quality which is applauded in Shakespeare — a combination of the intellectual and imagi- native, the closest reasoning in the boldest metaphor. Many of Bacon's essays — as the inimitable one on Studies — are absolutely oppressive from the power of thought compressed into the smallest possible compass. It is through his brief Essays that Bacon is most widely influential "Coming home," as he says himself, " to men's l>nsines> and bosoms," they gained, even in his own time, an extensive popularity, which they still retain. In his Wisdom of the Ancients, he endeavored to explain the political and moral truths concealed in the mythology of classical ages, and exhibited an ingenuity which Ma- caulay calls morbid. His unfinished romance, the Neio Atlantis, was intended to set forth the fulfilment of his dreams of a philosophical millennium. He also wrote a History of Henry VII., and a vast Dumber of state-papers, judicial decisions, and other professional writings. All ilalKuu. BACON, 141 these are marked by a vigorous and ornate style, and are among the finest specimens of the prose literature of that age. His writing on religious themes, though invariably condensed into short passages, is full of profound and rever- ent thought. He gave many striking interpretations of scripture, made versions of some of the Psalms, and, as Taine says, wrote several prayers which are among the finest known. For more extended reading on this topic consult Macanlay's essay on Bacon. Whipple's essays in The Literature of the Age of Elizabeth, Lewes's Biographical History of Philosophy, Hallam's Literature of Europe, The Baconian Philosophy, by Tyler, Fischer's Bacon and His Times, Spedding's Francis Bacon and His Times, G. H. Lewes's Aristotle, and Mill's Logic. In this chapter we have considered: — The Prose Literature of the Elizabethan Period, 1. John Stoiv and Raphael Holinshed. 2. Sir Walter Raleigh, 3. Richard Hooker. 4. Francis Bacon. a. His Relations to Burleigh and Essex, b. His Political Success. c. His Political Disgrace. d. His Service to Science. e. His English Writings, si POETS. NON-DRAMATIC. - Thomas Sackyilli, Sir PHiLir Sidney, Edmund Spenser, Walter Raleigh. PROSE WRITERS. [The Dawn of the Drama.J John Ltlt, George Peele, Thomas Ktd, Robert Greene, Christopher Marlowe, DRAMATIC. -I William Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Flktcheh Philip Massinger, John Ford, John Webster. ' Walter Raleigh, the Historian. Richard Hooker, (he Churchman. Fhanoib Bacon, the Philosopher. CHAPTEH XH, THE SO-CALLED METAPHYSICAL POETS. A LTHOUGH the literature of the seventeenth century indicates f\ no marvelous outburst of creative power, it has yet. left deep and enduring traces upon English thought and upon the English language. The influences of the time produced a style of writing in which intellect and fancy played a greater part than imagination or passion. Samuel Johnson styled the poets of that century the metaphysical school; that tendency to intellectual subtilty which appears in the prose and verse of the Elizabethan writers, and occasionally extends its contagion to Shakespeare him- self, became with them a controlling principle. As a natural con- sequence, they allowed ingenuity to gain undue predominance over feeling ; and in their search for odd, recondite, and striking illus- trations they were guilty of frequent and flagrant violations of sense. Towards the close of the period Milton is a grand and solitary representative of poets of the first order. He owed little to his contemporaries. They were chiefly instrumental in developing the artificial manner which characterizes the classical writers of the early part of the eighteenth century. John Donne (1573-1631) was declared by Dryden to be the greatest of English wits. He was a representative of the highest type of the extravagances of his age (50). His ideal of poetical composition was fulfilled by clothing every thought in a series of analogies, always remote, often repulsive and inappropriate. His versification is singularly harsh and tuneless, and the crudeness of his expression is in unpleasant contrast with the ingenuity of his thinking. In his own day his reputation was very high. "Rare Ben" pronounced him "the first poet of the world in some things," but declared that " for not being understood he would perish." This prophecy was confirmed by public opinion in the eighteenth 144 EDMUND WALLER. century, but has been somewhat modified by the criticism of out day, which discovers much genuine poetical sentiment beneath his faults of taste. His writings certainly give evidence of rich, pro- found, and varied learning. Donne's early manhood was passed in company with the famous wits of the Mermaid Tavern. The chief productions of his youth- ful muse were his Sati?'es, the Metempsychosis, and a series of amatory poems. When forty-two years old, he was ordained as a priest in the Church of England. He soon became a famous preacher, and was appointed Dean of St. Paul's. Eavoring circumstances rather than substantial desert give Ed- mund Waller (1605-1687) his prominent position in the literary and political history of his time. From his youth his associations were with that polished society which could at once appreciate and develop his varied talents. Versatility, brilliant wit, graceful and fascinating manners, and an underlying fund of time-serving shrewd- ness gained him political distinction, and made him a social idol. But his character was timid and selfish ; and his principles were modified by every change that affected his own interests. Un- fortunately for him he was a relative of Cromwell and a member of the Long Parliament. Although constrained by policy to avow the republican principles of the Puritans, he was at heart a royalist, and lost no opportunity of secretly abetting the Stuart cause. His consummate adroitness long averted the consequences of this double- dealing; but in 1643 he was convicted of a plot for restoring the authority of Charles I. Severe penalties were inflicted upon him, and he bowed to them in abject submission. The Restoration re- newed his prosperity, and he promptly panegyrized Charles LL with the same fervor which had marked his encomiums of the Protector. He died shortly after the accession of James II., having, with characteristic sagacity, foretold the ruinous issue of that monarch's policy. Most of Waller's poems are the verses of love (107), addressed to Lady Dorothy Sidney, whom he long wooed under the name of Saeliarissa. Playfulness of fancy, uniform elegance of expression and melody, which are the eliief merits of his verse, can seareely atone for its lack of enthusiasm. Two eulogies of Cromwell, one composed during the Commonwealth, the other after the Protee- tor's death, contain passages of dignity and power. He was less ABRAHAM COWLEY. 145 felicitous in a poem on Divine Love, and in his longer work, The Battle of the Summer Islands, which describes in a half-serious, half- comic strain an attack upon two stranded whales in the Bermudas. Both Dryden and Pope have acknowledged their obligations to Waller's influence as the "Maker and model of melodious verse." Abraham Cowley (1618-1667) was the popular English poet of his time (110). He was " an author by profession, the oldest of those who in England deserve the name."* He affords a remarkable instance of intellectual precocity; when a mere child he had a pas- sionate admiration for the Faery Queene y and his first poems were published when he was only fifteen years of age. After a residence of seven years at Cambridge, whence he was ejected on account of his being a royalist, he studied at Oxford until that town was occupied by the -Parliamentary forces. He then joined Queen Henrietta, the wife of Charles I., who was residing in France ; and he remained upon the Continent for years, exerting all his 1660.] energies in behalf of the House of Stuart. When the Restoration was accomplished and his fidelity and self- sacrifice were forgotten by Charles II., Cowley resolved "to retire to some of the American plantations and forsake the world forever ; " but he abandoned this purpose and settled in rural life at Chertsey on the Thames- He received a lease of lands belonging to the Crown, and from it he derived a moderate revenue, which secured him against actual want. Cowley was highly esteemed as a scholar, a poet, and an essayist. Extensive and well-digested reading, sound sense and genial feeling, joined to a pure and natural expression, render his prose works very entertaining. As a poet he exhibits the bad qualities of the metaphysical school in their most attractive form. He has not poetic passion ; he seems to be ever on the alert for striking analo- gies, and when he finds one he shows the electric spark of wit, rather than the fervent glow of genius. This fantastic play of the intellect displaces .the natural outpouring of feeling, even in the collection of his amatory verses called The Mistress. The Anacreontics exhibit his poetical powers to better advantage ; their tone is joy- ous and spirited, and they abound in images of natural and poetio beauty. He planned and began a work of great pretensions, eo- * Taine, Vol. I., p. 146. 146 SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT. titled the Davideis. It was intended to celebrate the sufferings and glories of the King of Israel ; but it was left unfinished and is now utterly neglected. His talents were lyric, rather than epic, and he was therefore not qualified to develop so grand a theme in a mas- terly way. Donne, the founder of " the Metaphysical School," and his two disciples, Waller and Cowley, were the most prominent literary figures and the most influential and popular writers in the genera- tion immediately after the Elizabethan period. Davenant and Denham held secondary, but important positions. Sir William Davenant (1605-1668) derives his chief claim upon posterity from his connection with the revival of the drama at the termination of the Puritan rule. He succeeded Ben Jonson in the office of Poet Laureate, and during the reign of Charles I. was manager of the Court Theatre. An energetic and useful partisan of the Cavaliers, his share in the intrigues of the Civil War had nearly brought him to the scaffold ; but his life was saved by the intercession of an influential Puritan whom tradition asserts to have been John Milton. After the Restoration, Davenant flourished under royal favor, continuing to write dramas and to superintend their performance, until his death. The French drama, in its most artificial and frivolous type, was the ideal of Charles II. and of his court. French influence revolutionized the English stage. Ac- tresses, young, beautiful, and skillful, took the places filled by the boys of the Elizabethan era.* In every respect the mechanical adjuncts of the drama were improved. It is easy to see in Dave- nant's own plays and in those which he remodeled, how completely the taste for splendor of scenery, music, dancing and costumery, had displaced the passion of the earlier public for faithful pictur- ing of life and nature. He was an ardent worshiper of the genius of Shakespeare and of Shakespeare's great contemporaries; yet conformity to the degraded standard of the age obliged him, in attempting to revive their works, to transform their spirit tirely that every intelligent reader must regarfl the change with disgust. Davenant's most popular dramas were, The Siege of Bhodes, Tlte Law Against Lovers, The Cruel Brother and AJbiMMk * The first English actress appeared on the stage in the play of Othello, in the reign of Charles II., 1661. PENHAM,QTJARLES, HERBERT, CRASHAW. 147 Sir John Denham (1615-1068) was indifferent to learning in his youth, and throughout his life was addicted to the vice of gam- bling. No one had expected anything from him that would be worthy of a place in literature ; but at twenty-six years of age he published a tragedy, The Sophy, which won the applause of the public. Two years later, his poem called Cooper's Hill appeared (109)- That poem established his fame. It contains passages of fine description, and suggests many beautiful thoughts con- cerning the landscape near Windsor. Denham's language is pure and perspicuous, and is free from the fantastic metaphors abound- ing in the writings of his contemporaries. Dryden is thought to have been influenced by the regularity and vigor of Denham's verse. In this age of artificial poets there were many who were inter- ested in the religious agitations of the Puritan and the Cavalier. We can mention but four of them. George Wither (1588-1667) was in sympathy with the political and religious sentiments of Oliver Cromwell. He was a prolific writer in both prose and verse. The modern critics have given him more praise than former genera- tions considered his due. His prose attracts little attention. His pastoral poetry (97) has much melody and beauty of sentiment. His Hymn* and Songs of the Church, and his Hallelujah, display his religious thought in worthy form. The whimsi^l conceits of the poetry of his day are occasionally found in his pages, but his style is generally simple, and expressive of natural and earnest feeling. Abuses Stript and Whipt was the title of his moat famous satire, published in 1613. For that satire he was imprisoned. Francis Quarks (1592-1644) was an ardent rovalist. He ex- hibits many points of intellectual likeness to Wither, to whom, however, he is inferior in poetical sentiment. His most popular work was a collection of Divine Emblems (98), whose moral and religious precepts are inculcated in short poems of almost laughable Quaintness, and illustrated by equally grotesque engravings. George Herbert (1583-1632) and Richard Crashaw (died 1650) exemplify the exaltation of religious sentiment ; and both are worthy of admiration, not only as Christian poets, but as good and 148 HERRICK, SUCKLING, LOVELACE, OAREW. pious priests. Herbert's poems are principally short religious lyrics, combining pious aspirations with frequent and beautiful pictures of nature (99). He decorates the altar with the sweetest and most fragrant flowers of fancy and of wit. Although not entirely devoid of that perverted ingenuity which deformed Quarles and Wither, his most successful efforts almost attain the perfection of devotional poetry, — a calm yet ardent glow, a well-governed fervor which seems peculiarly to belong to the Church of which he was a minister. His collection of sacred lyrics is entitled, The Temple; or Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations. Crash aw was reared in the Anglican Church; but during the Puritan troubles he embraced the Romish faith and became canon of the Cathedral at Loretto. That he possessed an exquisite fancy, great talent for producing melody of verse, and that magnetic power over the reader which springs from deep earnestness, no one can deny (100)- The most favorable specimens of his poetry are the Steps to the Temple, and the beautiful description entitled Music's Duel. In the social life of the first half of this seventeenth century the gallant and frivolous Cavalier stands in contrast with the stern, serious Puritan. In its literature, romantic love and airy elegance appear beside the reverent sentiments of religious poetry. The best representatives of the gayer poets are Robert Herrick (1591- 1674) (101), Sir John Suckling (1609-1041) (102> Sir Richard Lovelace (1618-1658) (103), and Thomas Carew (1589-1639) (104)- Herrick, after beginning his life in the brilliant literary society of the town and the theatre, took orders; but he continued to exhibit in his writings the voluptuous spirit of his youth. His poems were published under the names of HespcriU Numoers. They are all lyric, and the former are principally songs concerning love and wine ; the latter are upon sacred ml jeets. In him we lad the strangest mixture of Benaual coaneneai with exquisite refinement; yet in fancy, in spirit, in musical rhythm, he is never deficient. Suckling and Lovelace are representative Cavalier poets; both suffered in the royal cause; both exemplify the spirit of loyalty to the king, and of gallantry to the ladies. Sucklings beat produc- tion is the exquisite Ballad Upon a Wedding, in which, assuming CAREW. H9 the character of a rustic, lie describes a fashionable marriage. Lovelace is more serious and earnest than Suckling; his lyrics breathe devoted loyalty rather than the passionate, half-jesting love-fancies of his rival. Such are the beautiful lines to Althea, com- posed while the author was in prison. Carew's lyrics have all the grace, vivacity and elegance which should characterize such works. In this chapter we have considered:— The So- Called Metaphysical Poets, 1. John Donne. 2. Edmund Waller. 3. Abraham Cowley. 4:. Sir William Davenant. 5. Sir John Denham. 0. George Wither, Francis Quarles, George Herbert, and Richard Crashaw. 7. Robert Herrick, Sir John Suckling, Sir Richard Lovelace, and Thomas Carew. CHAPTEB XIII* THEOLOGICAL WRITERS OF THE CIVIL WAR AND THE COMMONWEALTH. THE Civil War of the seventeenth century was a religious as well as a political contest ; and the prose literature of that time, therefore, exhibits a strong religious character. The Church of England made her most brilliant display of theological eloquence ; and in the ranks of the dissenters many remarkable men appeared, hardly inferior to the churchmen in learning and genius, and their equals in sincerity and enthusiasm. William Chillingworth (1602-1644), an eminent defender of Protestantism against the Church of Rome, was converted to the Roman Catholic religion while studying at Oxford, and went to the Jesuits' College at Douay. After an absence of but two months he returned to Oxford, renounced his new faith, and published his work, entitled The Religion of the Protestants a Safe Way to Salvation (113)- "His chief excellence," says Mr. Hallam, M is the close reasoning which avoids every dangerous admission, and yields to no ambiguousness of language. In later times his book obtained a high reputation; he was called the immortal Chillingworth ; he was the favorite of all the moderate and the latitudinarian writers, of Tillotson, Locke, and Warburton." The writings of Sir Thomas Browne (1605-1682), though mis- cellaneous, belong to this department (114). He was an exceed- ingly learned man, and passed the greater part of his life in practis- ing physic in the ancient city of Norwich. Among the most popular of his works are the treatise on Hydriotaphia, or Urn-Burial, and essays on Vulgar Errors, or PttudodotftM Epidtmioa, But the book which affords the most satisfactory insight into his character is the THOMAS FULLER. 151 Religio Medici, a species of confession of faith which gives a minute account of his own religious and philosophical opinions. These writings are the frank outpourings of a most eccentric and original mind. They show varied and recondite reading; and their facts and suggestions are blended by a strong and fervent imagination. At every step some extraordinary theory is illustrated by unex- pected analogies, and the style is bristling with quaint Latinisms, which in another writer would be pedantic, but in Browne seem the natural garb of thought. All this makes him one of the most fascinating of authors ; and he frequently rises to a sombre and touching eloquence. Thomas Fuller (1608-1661) has in some respects an intellectual resemblance to Browne. Educated at Cambridge, he entered the Church, and was a famous orator in the pulpit. At the outbreak of the Civil War he incurred the displeasure of both factions by his studied moderation; but was for a time attached as chaplain to the Royalist army. During his campaigning Fuller industriously collected the materials for his most popular work, a History of the Worthies of England. This, more than his Church History of Britain, has made his name known to pos- terity. His Sermons exhibit peculiarities of style which make him one of the remarkable writers of his age (115)- His writ- ings are amusing, not only from the multitude of curious details, but also from the quaint yet frequently profound reflections sug- gested by these details. The Worthies contains biographical notices of eminent Englishmen, with descriptions of the botany, scenery, antiquities, and other matters of interest connected with their shires. It is an invaluable treasury of racy and interesting anecdotes. Of whatever subject Fuller treats, he places it in so many novel lights that the attention of the reader is con- stantly stimulated. One source of his picturesqueness is his fre- quent use of antithesis; not a bare opposition of words, but the juxtaposition of apparently discordant ideas, from whose sudden ^ontact there flashes forth the spark of wit. But the spark is always warmed by a glow of sympathy and tenderness ; for there is no gloom in Fuller's thought. The genial flash of his fancy brightens the gravest topics. 152 JEREMY TAYLOR. Jeremy Taylor (1613-1667) was the greatest theological writer of the English Church at this period. He was a thoroughly educated man, and from his early years was conspicuous on account of his talents and his learning. He entered the service of the Church, and is said, by his youthful eloquence, to have attracted the notice of Archbishop Laud, who made liim one of his chaplains, and procured him a fellowship in All Souls' College, Oxford. During the Civil War he stood high in the favor of the Cavaliers and the Court. After the downfall of the king. Taylor taught a school, for a time, in Wales, and continued to take an active part in religious controversies. His opinions were of course obnoxious to the dominant party, and on several occa- sions subjected him to imprisonment. At the Restoration he was made a bishop, and during the short time that he held the office he exhibited the brightest qualities that can adorn the episcopal dignity. Taylor's writings (116) deal with sacred thoughts. To be rev- erent towards his subject, he did not find it necessary to curb his fancy, or to quench his rhetorical fervor. Jeffrey called him " the most Shakespearean of our great divines;" but it would be more appropriate to compare him to Spenser. He has the same pictorial fancy, the same harmony of arrangement as Spenser. Together with Spenser's sweetness he has somewhat of the languor of Spen- ser's style. His study of ancient authors seems to have infected him with their Oriental and imaginative mode of thought. In his scholarly writing there may be an occasional indication of pedantry; in his religious life there is no cant, no hypocrisy. He was nearer abreast the truth than any former religious man of letters had been. In argument, in exhortation, he writes with the freedom and exuberance of his honest, happy soul. This man, with the genial style springing from his happy nature, is a most interesting character among polemical writers. His geniality did not prevent his being firm in his convictions. Living in an age when convictions had to be maintained against assaults, even Jeremy Taylor was compelled to enter the arena frith other thinkers. His polemical writings are unique. They are free from person*] abuse; they are as broad in spirit as they are lofty in style. They are thoroughly benevolent. His style is unfit for the close reason- niCHAKD BAXTER. 158 ing of the polemic. His fancy will beguile him from the direct line of an argument. The best known of Taylor's controversial writings is the treatise On the Liberty of Prophesying. That work gives him the glory of being the one who put forth the " first famous plea for tolerance in religion, on a comprehensive basis and on deep-seated founda- tions." * Although intended by Taylor to secure indulgence for the persecuted Episcopal preachers, it is, of course, equally applicable to the teachers of all forms of religion. A Justification of Autlwrized and Set Farms of Liturgie was an elaborate defence of the noble ritual of the Anglican Church. Among his works of a disciplinary and practical tendency may be mentioned The Life of Christ, or the Great Exemplar, in which the scattered details of the Evangelists and the Fathers are co-ordinated in a continuous narrative. Still more popular than these are the two admirable treatises, On the Rule and Exercises of Holy Living, and On the Rule and Exercise of Holy Dying, which mutually correspond to and complete each other. The least admirable of Taylor's productions is the Ductor Dubi- tantium, a treatise on questions of casuistry. His Sermons are very numerous, and are among the most eloquent, learned, and powerful in the whole range of Christian literature. As in his character, so in his writings, Taylor is the ideal of an Anglican pastor ; in both he exemplifies the union of intellectual vigor and originality with practical simplicity and fervor. Richard Baxter- Many men eminent for learning, piety, and zeal, appeared in the ranks of the Nonconformists at this time ; but if we omit Milton and Bunyan, who are reserved for sub- sequent chapters, the only writer claiming a distinct notice is Richard Baxter, He was the consistent and able defender of the right of religious liberty ; and in the evil days of James II. was exposed to the virulence and brutality of the infamous Jeffreys. With the exception of The Saints Everlasting Rest and A Call to the Unconverted, his works are little known at the present day. Amid danger and persecution, and in spite of the feebleness of his body, he toiled with his busy pen until he had contributed to the polemical and religious literature of his lau- * Ilallain, Vol. II., p. 425. 154 RICHARD BAXTER. guage the astounding number of one hundred and sixty-eight, publications.* * In the Narrative of His Own Life and Times, Baxter says: " I wrote them in the crowd of all my other employments, which would allow me no great leisure for polishing or exactness, or any ornament; so that I scarce ever wrote one sheet twice over, nor stayed to make any blots or interlinings, but was fain to let it go as it was first conceived ; and when my own desire was rather to stay upon one thing long than run over many, some sudden occasion or other extorted almost all my writings from me." In this chapter we have considered : — The Theological Writers of the Civil War and the Commonwealth . 1. William ChlUlngivorth. 2. Thomas Fuller. 3. Jeremy Taylor. 4. Richard Baxter. CHAPTEB X1¥* JOHN MILTON. ** Thy soul was like a star and dwelt apart; Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the Mfc— Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free ; So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness : and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.' 1 — Wordsworth. "John Milton, the poet, the statesman, the philosopher, the glory of Eiujikw literature, the champion and the martyr of English liberty."— Macaulay. M The old blind poet hath published a tedious poem on the Fall of Man. If ita length be not considered as a merit, it hajh no other. 1 '— Waller. " The first place among our English poets is due to Milton."— Addison. k ' There is no force in his reasonings, no eloquence in his style, and no taste lu his compositions."— Goldsmith. " It is certain that this author, when in a happy mood and employed on a nobk subject, is the most wonderfully sublime of all poets in the language."— Hume. M Three poets in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy.and England did adorn : The first in loftiness of thought surpassed ; The next in majesty; in both the last. The force of nature could no further go ; To make a third she joined the other two."— Dryden. *' Was there ever anything so delightful as the music of the Paradise Lost ? It Is like that of a fine organ ; has the fullest and the deepest tones of majesty, with all the softness and elegance of the Dorian flute ; variety without end, and never equaled, unless, perhaps, by Virgil." — Cowper. " After I have been reading the Paradise Lost I can take up no other poet with satisfaction. I seem to have left the music of Handel for the music of the street.' V Landor 156 MILTOH. " Milton is as great a writer in prose as in verse. Prose conferred celebrity o« him during his life, poetry after his death ; but the renovrn of the prose-writer is lost in the glory of the poet."— Chateaubriand. HISTORY furnishes no example of entire consecration to intellectual effort more illustrious than the life of John Milton. From childhood he seems to have B. 1608.] been conscious of superior powers; and through- D. 1674.] out his career circumstances combined to develop » his peculiar genius. He was born December 9th, 1608, and was the son of a London scrivener, whose industry and ability had gained a considerable fortune. Contempo- raneous accounts prove the elder Milton to have been a man of forcible character, and — though a Puritan — a lover of art and literature. He was thus able and willing to foster the early indications of genius in his son, and gave to him the rare advantage of special preparation for a literary career* A thorough training under his private tutor, Thomas Young, was supplemented by a few years at St. Paul's School in London. At the age of sixteen he was admitted to Christ's College," at Cambridge. His poetical tastes manifested themselves in an overweening fondness for the classics, and for poetical literature, and in an equally strong dislike to the dry scholastic sciences then in vogue at the universit}'. His intellectual independence is said to have involved him in difficulty with the authorities of his college ; but the disgrace must have been temporary, for he received both degrees at the usual intervals. To this period of his life many of his Latin poems are attributed : and the Hymn on the Nativity (121) was produced as a college exercise. After leaving the university in 1632 he went to live at his father's country-seat at Horton, in Bucking- * u My father destined me, while yet a child, to the Btndy of polite literature, which I embraced with such avidity, that from the twelfth year of my age I hardly erer retired to my rent from my studies till midnight,— which was the first source of injury to my eyes, to the natural weakness of which were added frequent head- ache* " MILTON. 157 hamshire. There he passed five years in devotion to study, disciplining his mind with mathematics and the sciences, and storing his memory with the riches of classical litera- ture. There also he indulged his passionate fondness for music — a fondness to which the invariably melodious struc- ture of his verse and the majestic harmony of his prose style>bear constant testimony. The chief productions of this studious retirement were L' Allegro, II Pe?iseroso, Comus, the Arcades, and Lycidas. In 1638 he determined to carry out a long-cherished plan for Continental travel. Furnished with influential intro- ductions, he visited the principal cities of France, Italy and Switzerland, and was everywhere received with respect and admiration.* He seems to have made acquaintance with men who were most illustrious for learning and genius ; he visited Galileo, "then grown old, a prisoner in the Inqui- sition." At Paris he was entertained by Grotius; at Flor- ence he was received into the literary academies, and gained the praise of wits and scholars by some of his Latin poems and Italian sonnets. His plans for further travel were suddenly abandoned upon the news of the rupture between Charles I. and the Parliament; "for," he says, "I thought it base to be traveling for amusement abroad while my fellow-citizens were fighting for liberty at home." He had hardly been restrained from uttering his religious opinions within the walls of the Vatican ; f he was now ready, at the * " In the present day, when we examine the archives and visit the libraries of the Italian sovereigns, it is curious to observe how frequently, in the correspon- dence of the most eminent writers of that age, we find the name of this young Englishman mentioned."— Lamartine. t " Whilst I was on my way back to Rome M (from Naples), he tells us, " some merchants informed me that the English Jesuits had formed a plot against me if I returned to Rome, because I had spoken too freely of religion : for it was a rule which I laid down to myself in those places, never to be the first to begin any conversation on religion, but, if any questions were put to me concerning my faith to declare it without any reserve or fear. I, nevertheless, returned to Rome. I took no steps to conceal either my person or my character, and for about the spac« of two months, I again openly defended, as I had done before, the Reformed religion, in the very metropolis of Popery. 158 MILTON. first occasion, to throw himself with ardor, into the con- flict that was rending Church and State. While waiting to be called into active service, he conducted a private school in London, and spent some of his time in poetical contemplation. Before leaving Horton he had written to his friend Diodati, "I am meditating, by the help of heaven, an immortality of fame, but my Pegasus has not yet feathers enough to soar aloft in the fields of air ; " and in a letter written to another friend just after his return from his travels, he said, " Some day I shall address a work to pos- terity which will perpetuate my name, at least in the land in which I was born." Intercourse with Continental scholars and authors stimulated his ambition, and formed his pur- pose. He had resolved to spend his strength on a poem of the highest order, either epic or dramatic — the Fall of Man may have already occurred to him as a topic. To this end he was pursuing his studies when the situation of affairs called forth his first pamphlet, in 1641. It was entitled, Of Reformation, and made a violent attack on the Episcopal Church. The storm of argument which it provoked, drove Milton to controversy ; and for the following twenty years he was the most powerful and active champion of Republi can ism against Monarchy. Among the most successful of his early prose writings was his Apology for Smectymnvus* In 1G£4 he turned his attention to a question which was in no way related to the political agitation of the time, and wrote a series of elaborate and spirited Works on Divorce. An unfortunate incident in his domestic life had provoked these gapers; for in 1643, after a brief courtship, he had married Mary Powell, the daughter of an Oxfordshire Royalist. Dis- gusted with one month's experience of the austere gloom of a Puritan household, the bride left her unsocial husband to * Stephen Marshall, Edward Calamy, Thomns Young, Matthew Newcomen and W(ttt/)illiam Spurstow were joint writers of a Puritan polemic, which was named Smectymnmi*, the word being composed of the initials of their five names. MILTOK. 159 his studies, and sought the merriment of her father's home. When Milton wrote requesting her to return, she ignored his letter ; his messenger she treated ungraciously. Making up his mind that his bride had forsaken him, he elaborated his views on the question of divorce. The estrangement con- tinued for two years, and then, learning that her husband was about to illustrate his faith in his own doctrines by marrying again, Mary Milton repented with all due humility. So thoroughly was she forgiven that her husband's house was opened as a refuge for her family when the Civil War drove them into poverty and distress. In the meantime Milton had written Of Education, and, in 1644, had ad- dressed to Parliament the most masterly of his prose com- positions, the Areopagitica ; a Speech for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing (139). His Services to the Government. In 1649 he was ap- pointed Latin Secretary to the Council of State. The elegance of his scholarship and the soundness of his judg- ment qualified him for the responsible position. His state- papers show with what zeal and ability he discharged his duties. While holding this office he undertook the last and most important of his literary controversies. At the insti- gation of Charles II., then an exile in France, Salmasius, an eminent scholar and the picked champion of the royalists, published an elaborate and powerful pamphlet in Latin, maintaining the divine right of kings and invoking ven- geance upon the regicides in England. The royalists de- clared the argument to be unanswerable; and, indeed, it was too weighty to be disregarded. The Council, therefore, commanded Milton to undertake a reply. Accordingly he prepared his Defensio Populi Anglicani. In elegant Latinity he proved himself the equal of his adversary ; in vitupera- tion and in weight of argument, he was adjudged the superior, and he received public thanks for the victory won. 160 MILTON. It is said that the death of Salmasius was hastened by the mortification of his defeat. But Milton's work in the prepa- ration of his argument had hastened the loss of sight which had menaced him for years. Before 1654 he was totally blind ; however, he continued to write many of the more important state-papers until the year of the Restoration, and was also occupied with a History of England, with a body of divinity, and perhaps with his great poem. Through tracts and letters, Milton had opposed to the last the return of the monarchy. The Restoration was the signal for his distress and persecution. A proclamation was issued against him, and for a time his fate was un- certain ; but he lived in concealment until the passing of the Act of Indemnity placed him in safety. * From that time until his death he lived in retirement, busily occupied in the composition of Paradise Lost, and Paradise 1665.] Regained. The former of these w T orks had been his principal employment for about seven years. The second epic and the tragedy of Samson Agonistes were published in the year 1671. On the 8th of November, 1674, Milton died. He was buried in Cripplegate Churchyard. His first wife died leaving him three daughters ; his second Katharine Woodcock, died in 1658, after little more than a year's marriage ; but the third, Elizabeth Minshull, whom he espoused in 1664, survived him for more than half a century. Three Periods of his Literary Career. Milton's literary career divides itself into three great periods, — that of his youth, that of his manhood, and that of his old age. The first may be roughly stated as extending from 1623 to 1640 ; * "He [Charles II. | offered to reinstate Milton in liis office of .jovrrnment advo- cate, if In' would deTOte his talents to the cause of monarchy. Hi- wife entreated htm to comply with thtfl proposal. 'Yon ma wnm.m,' replied Milton, 'and your thought* dwell on the domestic interests of our house ; I think only of posterity, and I will die consistently with my character.' "—Lamartint, MILTON. 161 the second from 1640 to 1660, the date of the Restoration; and the third from the Restoration to the poet's death in 1674. During the first of these he produced most of his minor poetical works; during the second he was chiefly occupied with his prose controversies; and in the third we see him slowly elaborating the Paradise Lost (126-134), the Paradise Regained (135), and the Samson Agonistes (136). The First Period. Those qualities which distinguish Milton from all other poets appear in his earliest produc- tions, — in the poetical exercises written at school and at college. The Hymn on the Nativity, composed at the age of twenty-one, is a fit prelude to the Paradise Lost. With a peculiar grandeur and dignity of thought he combines an exquisite, though somewhat austere harmony and grace. The least elaborate of his efforts are characterized by a solemn, stately melody of versification that satisfies the ear like the sound of a mighty organ. Apart from the energy of rhythm, his youthful poems are mostly tranquil, tender, or playful in tone. The Masque of Comus (122) was written in 1634, to be performed at Ludlow Castle before the Earl of Bridgewater. The Earl's daughter and two sons had lost their way while walking in the woods; and out of this simple incident Milton wrote the most beautiful pastoral drama that has yet been produced. The characters are few, the dramatic action is exceedingly simple, the eloquence is pure and musical, and the songs are exquisitely melodious. In this poem are suggestions of Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess, and of the Masques and the Sad Shepherd of Jon son ; but in elevation of thought, in purity, if not in delineation of natural beauty, Milton has far surpassed both Jonson and Fletcher. Lycidas, an elegy (123), was a tribute to the memory of Milton's friend and fellow-student, Edward King, who was lost at sea in a voyage to Ireland. In its form, as well 162 MILTON. as in the irregular and ever-varying music of its verse, may be traced the influence of Milton's study of Spenser and the Italian classics. This poem was fiercely condemned by Samuel Johnson. He declared that "no man could have fancied that he read Lycidas with pleasure had he not known its author." But few who read the poem will accept such criticism. For force of imagination and ex- haust less beauty of imagery it answers to a true poetio sensibility. The two descriptive poems, L Allegro (124) and II Pense- roso ( 125), are perhaps the best known and best appreciated of all Milton's works. They are of nearly the same length, and are perfect counterparts. L' Allegro describes scenery and various occupations and amusements as viewed in the light of a joyous and vivacious nature; II Penseroso dwells upon the aspect presented by similar objects to a person of serious, thoughtful and studious character. The tone of each is admirably sustained ; the personality of the poet appears in the calm cheerfulness of the one, as well as in the tranquil meditativeness of the othT. His joy is with- out frivolity; his pensive though tfuln ess is without gloom. But no analysis can do justice to the bold yet delicate lines in which these complementary pictures present various aspects of nature — beautiful, sublime, smiling or terrible. They are inexhaustibly suggestive to the thoughtful reader; and they have been justly pronounced, not so much poems as stores of imagery, from which volumes of picturesque description might be drawn. Written in the seclusion of his home at Horton, they are fancies about mirth and melancholy ; they are poems of theory, not of observation. They show us how a man who knew neither mirth nor melancholy would per- sonify them. They are intellectual studies of emotion, not its irrepressible utterances. Milton's Latin and Italian poems belong principally to his youth ; many of the former w r ere college exercises. Ho MILTON. 163 has had no rival among the modern writers of Latin verse. The. felicity with which he has reproduced the diction of classical antiquity is equaled only by the perfection with which he has sustained the style of antique thought. Shakespeare, Spenser, Sidney, and inferior poets had written sonnets, some of a high degree of beauty, but it was reserved for Milton to transplant into his native country the Italian sonnet in its highest form. He has seldom chosen the subject of Love; religion, patriotism, and domestic affection are his favorite themes; and most of them are ennobled by that sublime gravity which was char- acteristic of his mind. Among his sonnets the following are worthy of special admiration: I. To the Nightingale ; VI. and VII., containing noble anticipations of his poetical glory ; XVI., a recapitulation of Cromwell's victories ; XVIII., On the Massacre of the Protestants in Piedmont (138); XIX. and XXIL, on his own blindness (137). The Second Period. The second period of Milton's lit- erary life was filled with political and religious controversy; and in the voluminous prose works which were its results, we see the ardor of his convictions, the lofty integrity of his character, and the force of his genius. They are crowded with erudition, fused into a glowing mass by the fervor of enthusiasm. Whether in Latin or in English, their style is remarkable for a weighty and ornate mag- nificence, cumbrous and pedantic in other hands, but in his, a fit armor for breadth and power of thought. Milton seems to think in Latin. The length and involution of his sentences, their solemn and stately march, his prefer- ence for words of Latin origin — all contribute to make him one of the most Latinic of English authors. This quality, while it attests his learning, has combined with the fact that many of his subjects possessed only a temporary interest, to exclude his prose treatises from their true place among 164 MILTON. English classics. They are becoming every day better known to the general reader.* The Areopagitica, addressed to the English Parliament in defence of the liberty of the press, is an oration after the antique models, and is the sublimest plea that any age or country has produced for the great principle of freedom of thought and opinion. Its almost superhuman eloquence is rivaled by a passage in the pamphlet Against Prelaty, in which Milton confutes the calumnies of his foes by a glorious epitome of his studies, projects, and literary aspira- tions. The tractate, Of Education, embodies a beautiful but Utopian scheme for bringing modern educational train- ing into conformity with ancient ideas. Others of his finest prose treatises are the Iconoclasles, the Defemio Populi Anglicani, Defensio Secunda, and A Ready and Easy Way to Establish a Free Commonwealth. The Third Period. There is no spectacle in the history of literature more touching and sublime than Milton blind, poor, persecuted, and alone, ' fallen upon evil days and evil tongues, in darkness and with dangers compassed round," retiring into obscurity to compose those immortal epics, Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. The Paradise Lost (126) was originally composed in ten books, which were afterwards so divided as to make twelve. Its com- position, though the work was probably meditated long before,! occupied about seven years, from 1658 to 1665; * " It is to be regretted that the prose writings of Milton should in our time be bo little read. As compositions, they deserve the attention of every mi*, who wishes to become acquainted with the full power of the English language. They abound with paiaigea eompared with which the finest deelaniations of Burke sink into Insignificance. They are a perfect field of cloth of gold. The style is stiff with gorgeous embroidery."— Macaulay. t According to Voltaire. '• Milton, as he was traveling in Italy, in his youth, saw at Florence a comedy called Adamo. The subject of the play wa* the Fall of Man; the actors, God, the Angels, Adam, Eve, the Serpent. Death, and the seven Mortal MILTON. 165 and it was first published in 1667. Its subject is the grand- est that ever entered into the heart of man to conceive. The entire action moves among celestial and infernal per- sonages and scenes ; and the poet does not hesitate to ushet us into the awful presence of Deity itself. Argument of the Poem. In Booh Z, after the proposition of the subject,— the Fall of Man, — and a sublime invocation, the council of Satan and the infernal angels is described. Their determination to oppose the designs of God in the creation of the Earth and the innocence of our first parents are then stated, and the book closes with a description of the erection of Pandemonium, the palace of Satan. Booh II records the debates of the evil spirits, the consent of Satan to undertake the enterprise of temptation, his journey to the Gates of Hell, which he finds guarded by Sin and Death. Booh III. transports us to Heaven, where, after a dialogue between God the Father and God the Son, the latter offers himself as a propitiation for the foreseen disobedience of Adam. In the latter portion of this canto, Satan meets Uriel, the angel of the Sun, and inquires the road to the new-created Earth, where, disguised as an angel of light, he descends. Booh IV. brings Satan to the sight of Paradise, and contains the picture of the innocence and happiness of Adam and Eve. The angels set a guard over Eden, and Satan is arrested while endeavoring to tempt Eve in a dream. He is allowed to escape. In Booh V. Eve relates her dream to Adam, who comforts her ; and they, after their morning prayer, proceed to their daily employment. They are visited by the angel Raphael, sent to warn them ; and he relates to Adam the story of the revolt Sins. That topic, so improper for a drama, was handled in a manner entirely con- formable to the extravagance of the design. The scene opens with a chorus ol angels, and a cherub thus speaks for the rest: Let the rainbow be the fiddlestick of the heavens ! Let the planets be the notes of our music ! Let time beat carefully the measure^ etc. Thus the play begins, and every scene rises above the last in pro- fusion of impertinence. Milton pierced through the absurdity of that performance to the hidden majesty of the subject: which, being altogether unfit for the stage, yet might be, for the genius of Milton, and his only, the foundation of an epic poem. He took from that ridiculous trifle the first hint of the noblest work which human imagination has ever attempted, and which he executed more than twentj years after." 166 MILTON. of Satan and the disobedient angels. In Booh VI. the narrative of Raphael is continued. Booh VII. is devoted to the account of the creation of the world, giveu by Raphael, at Adam's request. In Booh VIII. Adam describes to the angel his own state and recollec- tions, his meeting with Eve, and their union. The action of Bool IX. is the temptation, first of Eve, and then, through her, of Adam. Booh X. contains the judgment and sentence of Adam and Eve. Satan, triumphant, returns to Pandemonium, but not before Sin and Death construct a causeway through Chaos to Earth. Satan re- counts his success, but he and all his angels are transformed into serpents. Adam and Eve bewail their fault, and determine to implore pardon. Booh XI. relates the acceptance of Adam's repentance by the Almighty, who, however, commands that he be expelled from Paradise. The angel Michael is sent to reveal to Adam the consequences of his transgression. Eve laments her exile from Eden, and Michael shows Adam in a vision the destiny of man before the Flood. Booh XII. continues the prophetic picture shown to Adam by Michael of the fate of the human race from the Flood. Adam is comforted by the account of the redemption of man, and by the destinies of the Church. The poem terminates with the wandering forth of our first parents from Paradise. No synopsis can satisfy the reader or assist him materially in comprehending the poem. Nothing but an acquaintance with the work itself would suffice. The peculiar form of blank verse in which Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained are written, was first adapted to epic poetry by Milton. He has gifted it with a distinctive tone and rhythm, solemn, dignified and sonorous, yet of musical and ever-varying cadence, and as delicately respon- sive to the sentiments it embodies as the harmonies of the Homeric hexameter. Where it suited his purpose, he closely followed the severe condensation of the Scriptural narrative ; but where his subject required him to give freedom to his thought, he showed that no poet ever surpassed him in fertility of conception, that no poet ever saw the splendors of a more glorious vision. In alluding to the blending of MILTON. 16? Bimple Scriptural story with imagination in Paradise Lost, Lamartine pronounces the poem "the dream of a Puritan who has fallen asleep over the first pages of his Bible." The description of the fallen angels, the splendor of Heaven, the horrors of hell, the loveliness of Paradise, as exhibited in the poem, pass the bounds of earfchly experience and give us scenes of superhuman beauty or horror, that are pre- sented to the eye with a vividness rivaling that of the memory itself. Milton's Satan (127) is no caricature of the demon of vulgar superstition; he is not less than archangel, though archangel ruined ; he is invested, by the poet, with the most lofty and terrible attributes of the divinities of classical mythology. Milton is pre-eminently the poet of the learned ; for however imposing his pictures maybe even to the most uncultivated mind, it is only to a reader who is familiar with classical and Biblical literature that he dis- plays his full powers. Dryden and many later critics have criticised the subject of this epic poem, inasmuch as it makes Adam but the nominal hero, while Satan is the real one. The inferior nature of man, as compared with the powers by which he is surrounded, reduces him, apparently, to a secondary part in the action of the poem.* After Milton's retirement from public life he was sought out by scholarly foreigners, who were curious to see him on account of the fame of his learning ; and he received loving and admiring attention from many of his own countrymen. Among them was Thomas Ellwood, a Friend, * It seems probable that Milton had some difficulty in finding a publisher for his epic ; but in 1667 he effected a sale of the copyright to Samuel Symons. By the terms of the sale, Milton was to receive five pounds on signing the agreement, five pounds more on the sale of a first edition of thirteen hundred copies, and five pounds for each of the two following editions when they should be exhausted. He lived to receive the second payment. In 1680 his widow sold to the publisher all of her " right, title, and interest " in the work for eight pounds ; so that the author and his heirs received but eighteen pounds for the grandest poem of out literature. 168 MILTON. who frequently read Latin books to the blind poet. One day Milton handed him a manuscript, and asked him to read it with care. Upon returning it, Ellwood said, '• Thou hast said much here of Paradise Lost, but what has thou to say to Paradise Found?" This question suggested to Milton the writing of Paradise Regained. By general con- sent the second epic is placed far below the first in point of interest and variety; still it displays the same solemn grandeur, the same lofty imagination, the same vast learn- ing. Christ's Temptation in the Wilderness is the theme, and the narrative of that incident, as recorded in the fourth chapter of St. Matthew's gospel, is closely followed. This poem is said to have been preferred to the grander epic in the esteem of the poet himself. The noble and pathetic tragedy of Samson Agonistes (136) belongs to the closing period of Milton's literary career. It is constructed according to the strictest rules of the Greek drama. In the character of the hero, his blind- ness, his sufferings, and his resignation to the will of God, Milton has given a most touching representation of his old age.* So closely has Milton copied all the details of the ancient dramas, that there is no exaggeration in saying that a modern reader will obtain a more exact impression of what a Greek tragedy was, from the study of Samson Agonistes, than from the most faithful translation of Sophocles or Euripides. * •* They charge me "—thus he wrote to one of his friends, a foreigner—" they charge me with poverty hecausc I have never desired to become rich dishonestly; they accuse me of blindness because I have lost my eyes in the service of liberty ; they tax me with cowardice, and while I had the nee of my eyee and myawoH r never (cured the boldest anions them; Anally, T am upbraided with deformity, while no one was more handsome in the age of beauty. I do not even complain of my want of eight in the night with which T am surrounded, the Ught of the divine preeeaoe shines with a more brilliant lustre. God looks down upon me with ten- derness and compassion, because I can now see none but himself. Misfortune should protect me from insult, and render me sacred; not becau-e I am deprived of the light of hca\er. but beeMM I am under the shadow of the divine wing^ which have enveloped me with this darknes«." MILTON. 169 His Solitariness. The last years of Milton's life, in which darkness nestled him under her wing, are a reminder of the tact that the world from which he was thus shut out had not then, nor has since had, nor will ever have, a distinct view of him. Milton's soul was the soul of a recluse. He was in, but not of, the seventeenth century. In moral and in intellectual power he was a giant, beside whom his con- temporaries were pigmies. The beauty and dignity of his life were such as might be looked for in a man chosen from some lofty and bracing epoch of history j and we are sur- prised at finding him in that sickly age, breathing the miasma that brought disease to other men. He was mirac- ulously kept from the religious fever that made some men insane, and from the taint of the moral plague that made others loathsome. This exemption makes his life some- what a mystery, and the effect of the mystery is heightened by the purity and elevation of his thought, and by the glittering magnificence of his style. Although we know much about Milton, we do not know him. We do not hope to commune closely with him. He seems to us a little more than human. When we have read the loftiest praises of him we feel that the critic has failed of reaching the elevation which a just criticism of Milton should attain. The rhetoric, the enthusiasm of Macaulay, do not cast as clear a light as we could wish for, in viewing " the genius and virtues of John Milton, the poet, the states- man, the philosopher, the glory of English literature, the champion and the martyr of English liberty." There is a grandeur in the man that cannot be fitly described by the flushed fancy and the lavish strength of the rhetorician's grandest periods. There is something about him that crowds our capacity for admiring, and yet forbids the familiar acquaintance that would give us rapturous love for him. Our ideal of him is less satisfactory than our ideal of any other of the great men in our literature ; and the cause 8 170 MILTON". of his eluding us is found in the fact that he was a recluse. Wordsworth truly said of him, M Thy eoul was like a star and dwelt apart." The mystery that is about him, the haughtiness that some critics detect in him, the grandeur that evades analysis, and the strange reverence felt by all who study him, are trace- able to an awe-inspiring peculiarity that may be described as the loneliness of Milton. The companionships of other historic characters help the student; but Milton seems to have been without intimacies: the social temptations to which they yielded or over which they were victorious, the constancy or inconstancy of their friendships, the influence that they exerted over those who loved them, give us an idea of what our attitude would have been towards them, had we been of their company. But where shall we find the men who had intimate friendship with Milton. His loneliness was recognized and respected. His fellow-students at the uni- versity detected something peculiarly unlike themselves in him, and named him "The Lady of the College." The gentlewoman who came to his house to be his wife soon found that she could not intrude upon his solitude. Amid the excitement of the Civil War he seems to have been companionless ; and when the victory had brought joy to all other men of his political party he was found in t he seclusion of his quiet study, and was summoned to the public service of the state. During the years of the Com- monwealth two men rise superior to all other Englishmen, — the man of action, Cromwell; and the man of thought, Milton. Although mutually dependent, they were not intimate companions, for Milton stood in intellectual isola- tion. When the days of blindness aud poverty and threaten- ings came to him and he was in his hiding-place, he was not withdrawn further than he had ever been from the world. His whole career was separate from the intimate acquaint- MILTON. 171 ance of men. His religious opinions would have been acceptable to neither party. Although he was a Puritan in politics, his theology would have been criminal heresy to the Puritans. In forming his political opinions he was not influenced by the same motives which swayed the men of his party ; they beheaded Charles I. because he was the leader of a hated church ; Milton justified the regicide because the unconstitutional exercise of regal power is insulting to nationality. It is this lack of affinity between Milton and other men, this want of contact between him and the world, this independence in political, poetical, and religious think- ing — this loneliness of the man — that gives a peculiar dignity to his character, that overawes our love, and forbids our thorough knowledge of him. The student is referred to Masson's Life of Milton,— Dr. Johnson's Life of Milton,— De Quincey's Life of Milton — Hallani's History of Literature, Vol. IV.,— Macaulay's Essay on Milton,— Lamartine's Celebrated Characters,— Channing's Essay on Milton,— Reed's Lectures on the British Poets, Vol. I.,— Hazlitt's Lectures on the English Poets, -Lowell's Essay on Milton and Shakespeare, North American Review, April, 1868,— the article on Milton in the Encyclopedia Britannica,— Campbell's Specimens of the British Poets,— Taine's English Literature,— Lan- dor's Works,— Masson's Essays on the English Poets,— and Addison's criticisms on Paradise Lost in The Spectator, Nos. 267, 273, 279, 285, 291, 297, 303, 309, 315, 321, g27. im, 339, 345, 351, 359, 363, 369. In this chapter we have considered:— John Milton. 1. His Services to the Government. 2. Three Periods of His Literary Career* 3. The Argument of Paradise Lost. 4. Milton's Solitariness* CHAPTEB XV. THE LITERATURE OF THE RESTORATION. FOR worthlessness of character and for the shamefulness of big public life, Charles II., the prince to whom the crown of the Stuarts was restored, stands without a rival in the line of 1660.] English kings. During the time of the Commonwealth he had found refuge on the Continent. His good-nature and his rank had won him hosts of friends ; but as he was wanting in dignity of character, his friendships were not with the good. When he ascended the throne he inaugurated a reign of debauchery and shame. The dissipated companions of his exile, and foreign adven- turers who had fastened themselves upon him, were the favorites of his Court. His ambition was to ensure these worthless courtiers a good time. The gambler, the drunkard, and the libertine, found him ever ready to give them the royal smile and to join them in their criminal pleasures. Patriotism made no successful appeal to him. Decency fled from his presence. His halls of state were lavishly furnished, the doors were thrown open, and the rollicking king welcomed his subjects to his presence, where they could hear the profanity, could see the drunkenness and could suspect the baser infamies of the highest circle of English life. Under Crom- well's government severe restraints had been thrown about the people. Public amusements had been forbidden. Many innocent pleasures had been denounced. And now the Court laughed loudest at the unreasonable severity of the Puritans, and went to the farthest reach in a reckless pursuit of pleasure. The effect of such a revolution at court was immediate and fearful. The nation plunged madly into excesses. Popular literature in any generation is but the reflection of that generation's thought, and so we must expect to hud that the applauded writers of the time of Charles H. are men who laugh at SAMUEL BUTLER. 173 seriousness and apologize for vice. The drama of the time, as it appealed most directly to popular attention, was indecent ; but whatever writings came from other than Puritan pens were tainted with the disease of the Court. Samuel Butler. The most illustrious literary representative of the party of the Cavaliers is Samuel Butler (1612-1680). When more than fifty years of age, after witnessing the success and the failure of the Puritans, he wrote a satire upon their follies in which he subjected them to a ridicule so keen that his work still holds an eminent place in our literature of satire. His early life was passed in obscurity. He was of lowly parentage. Lack of funds cut short his stay at the University of Cambridge ; still he was there long enough to acquire some of the learning displayed in his works. For several years he was clerk in the office of a country justice, and afterwards became a secretary in the service of the Countess of Kent. In these positions he found opportunities for study and foi intercourse with scholarly and accomplished men. Next we find him a tutor in the family of Sir Samuel Luke, a wealthy gentle- man of Bedfordshire, who, as a violent republican member of Parliament, and as one of Cromwell's satraps, took an active part in the agitations of the Commonwealth. In the person of this dignitary Butler probably saw the most radical type of Puritan character. The Restoration brought Butler no special reward for his loyalty. He became secretary to Lord Carbury, and for some time acted as steward of Ludlow Castle; but this situation was neither perma- nent nor lucrative. 1662.] Hudibras. It was in 1662 that he published the first part of Hudibras ; and the second part followed in 1664. The poem soon became the popular book of the day ; for its wit and ingenuity won the praise of the critics, while its tone and subject flattered the vindictive triumph of the royalists. Charles II. carried it about in his pocket, and was constantly quoting and admiring it; but all efforts to secure patronage for its author, either from the king or his favorites, proved fruitless. A fatality combined with the usual ingratitude of the Court to leave the great wit in his poverty and obscurity. Two years after the appearance 174 SAMUEL BUTLER. of the third part of his famous work he died in 1680, at a miserable lodging in London ; and the expenses of his modest burial were defrayed by a friend. Hudibras is a burlesque satire upon the Puritan party, and especially upon its two dominant sects, — Presbyterians and Inde- pendents. It describes the adventures of a fanatical justice of the peace and his clerk, who sally forth, in knight-errant style, to enforce the violent and oppressive enactments of the Rump Parlia- ment against the popular amusements. Sir Hudibras, the hero, — in all probability a caricature of Sir Samuel Luke, Butler's whilom employer— represents the Presbyterians. He is depicted as, in mind, character, person and bearing, a grotesque compound of pedantry, ugliness, hypocrisy and cowardice; his clerk, Ralph, is sketched with equal unction as the type of the sour, wrong- headed, but more enthusiastic Independents. The doughty pair having set out on their crusade, first encounter a crowd of raga- muffins who are leading a bear to be "baited," and refuse to disperse at the knight's command. A furious mock-heroic battle ensues, in which Hudibras is finally victorious. He puts the chief delinquents in the parish stocks ; but their comrades soon return to the charge, set them free, and imprison the knight and squire. They are in turn liberated by a rich widow, to whom the knight is paying court. Hudibras afterwards visits the lady; and her servants, in the disguise of devils, give him a sound beating. He consults a lawyer and an astrologer, to obtain revenge and satisfac- tion ; and at that point the narration breaks off, incomplete. Evidently the fundamental idea of this poem was suggested by the Bon Quixote of Cervantes ; but its spirit and the style of its development are entirely original. Cervantes makes his hero laughable, without impairing our respect for his noble and heroic character; Butler invests his personages with the utmost degree of odium that is compatible with the sentiment of the ludicrous. As his object was exclusively satirical, he could not and did not con- sider any of the noble qualities of the fanatics whom he attacked. Hudibra* is the best burlesque in the English language. "The same amount of learning, wit, shrewdness, ingenious and deep thought, felicitous illustration and irresistible drollery has never [elsewhere] been comprised in the same limits." Butler's style is at once concise and suggestive; many of his JOHN BUNYAK. 175 expressions have the terse strength of proverbs, and at the same time open boundless vistas of comic association. His language is easy, conversational, careless ; familiar and even vulgar words arc found side by side with the pedantic terms of art and learning ; the short octosyllabic verse moves with unflagging vivacity ; and the constant recurrence of fantastic rhymes tickles the fancy. Yet, ilthough no English author was ever more witty than Butler, he is utterly destitute of genial humor; his analysis of character is pitilessly keen and clear ; but he shows no power in sustaining the interest of a story. Hence he neither enlists our sympathy nor attracts that curiosity which is gratified by a well-developed in- trigue. u If inexhaustible wit could give perpetual pleasure," says Johnson, "no eye could ever leave half-read the work of Butler ; . * . . . however, astonishment soon becomes a toilsome pleasure, and the paucity of events fatigues the attention and makes the perusal of the book tedious." Among Butler's miscellaneous writings which were published after his death, the most entertaining are a series of prose sketches. Many of his posthumous poems are caustic and undiscriminating satires upon the physical investigators of his day. He is par- ticularly severe upon the Royal Society, which he ridicules in his Elephant in the Moon. John Bunyan (1628-1688.) In this age of debauchery, John Bunyan, the master of religious allegory, appeared. He came from the lowest grade of social life, grew up to manhood with an educa- tion so meagre that he barely knew how to read and write, and yet he produced a work which places him foremost among the writers of his class. What Shakespeare is to English dramatists, what Milton is to English epic poets, that John Bunyan is to writers of English allegory. In this department of our literature none approach him. He was the son of a poor Bedfordshire tinker, and followed his father's trade until his eighteenth year. He then served for a few months in the Parliamentary army. Returning to his native vil- lage, Elstow, he married " one as poor as himself." He says that u they had neither dish nor spoon betwixt them." Until this time Bunyan's course of life had been the ordinary one of a poor, uneducated village lad, stained with the vice of profanity, and 176 JOHN BUNYAN. too much given to rough sports. Doubtless his follies had often been denounced as heinous sins by the earnest Puritans of his acquaintance. His young wife was a devout woman, and she sought his reformation. By inducing him to read two religious book* bequeathed to her by a dying father, and by leading him to the church of which she was a member, she succeeded in awaken- ing his anxiety concerning the future life. Once aroused, his sensi- tive and imaginative soul could not rest. For about two years his mind was in a state of intense gloom, tormented with fears for his eternal welfare, and perplexed with the theological quandaries of the day. Finally, by what he always deemed a special exercise of divine mercy, his soul found peace. He united with the Baptist church of Bedford, and, yielding to the wishes of his fellow- members, he availed himself of his journeyings as a tinker to exercise the vocation of a preacher. The fervent piety and rude eloquence of his discourses gradually gained him wide reputation, and he became a leading man among the Baptists. As such he was exposed to rigorous persecution ; for Dissenters were regarded by the government of Charles II. as in sympathy with republican doctrines. In 1660, having been arrested and convicted as a "common upholder of conventicles," he was shut up in Bedford jail. There he remained for twelve years, steadfastly refusing to purchase freedom by a sacrifice of his faith. The weary years were spent in working for the support of his family and in writing religious books. His patient and cheerful piety so won the con- fidence of his keepers that, during the last two years of his confine- ment, he was often allowed to leave the prison. In 1671 he was chosen preacher of the Baptist congregation in Bedford. A year later, When liberated by the royal proclamation of religious tolera- tion, he entered upon his pastoral labors with energy, and prose- cuted them to the end of his life. The fame of his sufferings, his genius as a writer, his power as a speaker, gave him unbounded influence among the Baptists; while the beauty of his character and the catholic liberality of his views secured him universal esteem. His ministrations extended over the whole region between Bedford and London, and involved occasional visits to the metrop- olis itself. It was in London that his death occurred, in 1688, having been hastened by the exposure and fatigue of a journey which he had undertaken for the benevolent purpose of reconciling a father and son. JOHN BUN Y AN". 177 Bunyan's works are numerous, and entirely of a religious char- acter. Only three among them demand our special notice, — the religious autobiography entitled Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners, and the two religious allegories, Pilgrim's Progress and the Holy War. The first gives a candid account of Bunyan's own conversion, portraying in detail the struggles of a human soul striving to burst its bonds of sin and worldliness. It contains pas- sages of sublime simplicity and pathos. The picture has interest for the philosopher of mind as well as for the religious devotee ; though it is evident that both its lights and shades have been exaggerated by the enthusiasm of Bunyan's character. He was a dreamer ; and from his childhood, as he tells us in this book, he had been haunted by fearful visions of the lake of fire. The Pilgrim's Progress from this World to that which Is to Come (155) narrates the experience of a Christian in going from a life of sin to everlasting bliss. Christian, dwelling in the City of Destruction, is incited by an agonizing consciousness of his lost estate to journey towards the New Jerusalem. All the adventures of his travels, the scenes through which 'he passes, the friends and fellow- pilgrims whom he finds upon the road, typify the joys and trials of a religious life. Bunyan's imaginary persons excite all the interest and sympathy which belong to human beings. The doc- trine of salvation by grace is the burden of his thought and the moral of his story ; he writes for sinners perishing in an abyss whence he has been snatched. This makes him direct, fervent, pathetic. Occasionally, too, a vein of rich humor, outcropping in argument or description, indicates the genial healthfulness of his mind, and draws him into closer sympathy with his readers. Ingenious dreamer I in whose well-told tale Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail ; Whose humorous vein, strong sense, and simple style May teach the gayest, make the gravest smile ; Witty and well employed, and like thy Lord Speaking in parables his slighted word."— Cowper. He had read but few books ; the Bible and Fox's Booh of Martyrs comprised his entire library during the twelve years of his impris- onment. He is said to have known the former almost by heart. That his mind was saturated with its spirit is indicated by th« mode of his thinking, by the character of his imagery, by the very 178 IZAAK WALTON". form of his expression. His style is nervous, plain, idiomatic ; it derives strength and terseness from its large proportion of Saxon words; is often picturesque and poetical, sometimes ungram- matical; but it is always that language of the common people which attains its highest vigor and purity in the English Bible. Macaulay says that " the style is delightful to every reader, and invaluable as a study to every person who wishes to obtain a quick command over the English language. The vocabulary is the vocabulary of the common people. There is not an expression, if we except a few technical terms of theology, which would puzzle the rudest peasant. We have observed several pages which do not contain a single word of more than two syllables.'' Pilgrim's Progress is in two parts. The first was written in Bedford jail, to " divert Bunyan's vacant seasons," and was 1678] published in 1678. Its popularity was most remarkable. After it had passed through eight editions, Bunyan incor- porated with it the second part, in which the celestial pilgrimage is accomplished by Christian's wife and children whom he had left in the City of Destruction.. From that day till this its popularity has continued; childhood and old age find delight in its story. Its translation may be found in every language w 7 hich contains a religious literature. The Holy War is an allegory typifying, in the siege and capture of the City of Mansoul, the strife between sin and religion in the human spirit. Diabolus and Immanuel are the leaders of the hos- tile armies. The narrative is far less interesting than the IHlgrim's Progress. Its style is less piquant and vivacious. Izaak Walton- Few authors have secured a firmer hold upon the affection and sympathy of Jieir readers than Izaak Walton (1593-1683). He was born in Stafford, and passed his early man- hood in London, where he carried on the business of a linen-draper. At fifty years of age he retired from trade with a competence sufficient for his modest desires; and he lived to the great age of ninety in ease and tranquillity, enjoying the intimate friendship of many learned and accomplished men, and amusing himself with literature and rural pleasures. He produced the Lite* of the dis- tinguished contemporaries, — Donne, Wotton, Hooker, George Her- bert, and Bishop Sanderson, the first, second, and last of whom he JOHN EVELYN". 179 had known personally. These biographies stand alone in lit- erature; they are written with such tender grace, with such an unaffected fervor of personal attachment and simple piety, that they will always be regarded as masterpieces. But Walton's best production is The Compleat Angler (158), a treatise on his favorite pastime of fishing. It is thrown into the form of dialogues — first carried on by a hunter, a falconer, and an angler, each of whom, in turn, extols the delights of his favorite sport, until the hunter is vanquished by the eloquence of the angler, and desires to become his disciple. The veteran then initiates him into the mysteries of the gentle craft, and as the two continue their dis- course, technical precepts are interspersed with exquisite pictures of English river scenery, and racy descriptions of the fortunes of "angling days." Every page is spiced with the quaint thought of the philosopher of the rod; his sensibility to the beauties of Nature, and his cheerful piety find constant and happy expression ; while the language of the book is as pure as its thoughts. An occasional touch of innocent, old-world pedantry only adds to its indefinable charm; and its popularity seems destined to endure as long as the language. A second part was added to the Gomjyleat Angler by Chables Cotton, the poet, an adopted son of Walton. Another writer of this epoch, whose interests were divided be- tween literary pursuits and the never-cloying amusements of rural life, is John Evelyn (1620-1706). He was a gentleman of good family and considerable fortune, and merits distinction as one of the first Englishmen who practised the art of gardening and plant- ing on scientific principles. To the timely publication of his Sylva (1664), a work on the management of forest trees, England is largely indebted for her present abundance of timber. Terra, his treatise on agriculture and gardening, appeared in 1675. Both books display much practical good sense, animated by a genuine love of Nature. Evelyn's personal character was a model of purity and benevo- lence ; his household and his friends seem to have formed a little oasis of virtuous refinement in the general depravity of their time. Through a Diary U59), which extends over the greater part of his life, he has given us valuable historical information concerning business and social customs, and a mournful description of the unparalleled corruption of Charles II.'s court. N 180 SAMUEL PEPY8. Samuel Pepys (1632-1703). Pepys began life as a subordinate clerk in one of the government offices. By bis punctuality, honesty and devotion to business, he rose to the important position of Secretary to the Admiralty. He was one of the few able and upright officials connected with the government during the reigns of Charles II. and James II. The accession of William and Mary deprived him of his position, and the last years of his life were passed in retirement. The Diary (160), through which Pepys has immortalized him- self and won the gratitude of posterity, was written in short-hand, and was first deciphered and published in 1825. It extends over the nine years from 1660 to 1669, and is the gossipy chronicle of a gay and profligate time. We have no other book which gives so life-like a picture of that extraordinary state of society which fell under the author's observation. Not only was Pepys by nature curious as a magpie, and somewhat convivial in his tastes withal ; but his official duties brought him into contact with every class, from the king and his ministers down to the poor, half-starved sailors whose pay he distributed. Writing entirely for himself, he chronicles with ludicrous naivete the successive details of his own rise in wealth and importance, all the minutiae of his domestic affairs, and of the dress,- manners, and social amusements of him- self and his associates. King, statesmen, courtiers, players, live again in his pages, and Pepys's own character — an interesting compound of shrewdness, vanity, worldly wisdom and simplicity — infinitely enhances the piquancy of his revelations. Edward Hyde, first Earl of Clarendon (1608-1674), was one of the most prominent figures in the Long Parliament and in the Age of the Restoration. He was educated for the profession of law ; but at an early age he quitted the bar, and engaged in the more exciting struggles of political life. He sat in the Short Parliament of 1640, and was also a conspicuous orator in the Long Parlia- ment, at first supporting the Opposition ; but after a violent quarrel with the more radical champions of the national cause, lie gradu- ally transferred his support to the Royalists. Upon the outbreak of civil war he fled from London to join the king at York; and from that time forth was one of the most faithful and one of the most discreet adherents of the royal cause. In 1644 he was named EDWARD HYDE. 181 a member of the Council appointed to advise .and take charge of Prince Charles, whom he accompanied to Jersey, and whose exile and misfortunes he shared from the execution of Charles I. until the Restoration. After the throne of the Stuarts had been re- established, Hyde reaped the reward of his services. He was made Lord Chancellor of Engl and, created first a Baron, afterwards, in 1661, Earl of Clarendon, and for several years exercised a pow erful influence in the national counsels. However, his popularity, as well as his favor with the king, soon began to decline. The austerity of his morals was a constant rebuke to the profligate Court ; his advice, generally in favor of prudence and economy, was distasteful to the king ; while, like many other statesmen who have returned to power after long exile, he failed to accommodate himself to the advanced state of public opinion. The people looked with distrust upon his increasing wealth and power, and demanded his removal from office after he had used his influence for the sale of Dunkirk. Charles II. was all too ready to sacrifice lrjs minister to the general clamor. Clarendon was impeached for high treason. He went into exile, and passed the rest of his life in France, occupied in completing his History. Clarendon's principal work is the History of the Cheat Rebellion (156), as he, a Royalist, designated the history of the Civil War. It comprises a detailed account of the struggle, generally in the form of political memoirs, together with a narrative of the cir- cumstances which brought about the Restoration. As much of the material was derived from the author's personal experience, the work is of high value ; while the dignity and animation of the style, in spite of occasional carelessness and obscurity, will ever give him rank among English classics. Impartial he is not ; but his partiality is less frequent and less flagrant than could fairly have been anticipated. Genuine regard for the welfare of his country is as evident in his writings as in most of the acts of his life. He is skilled in the delineation of character. Natural pene- tration and great knowledge of the world combined to make him an acute observer of human nature ; and we are indebted to his spirited pen for many a life-like portrait of his distinguished con- temporaries. "The great Cavalier-prince of historical portrait painters out- lived the great Puritan-prince of epic poets but a few days. Born 182 THOMAS HOBBES. in the same year, Clarendon and Milton stood all their lives apart, towering in rival greatness above their fellows in the grand strug« gle of their century. The year of the Restoration, which brought splendor to the Cavalier, plunged the blind old Puritan in [into] bitter poverty. But a few years more, and the great Earl, too, was stricken down from his lofty place, and sent a homeless wanderer to a stranger's land. To both, their sternest discipline was their greatest gain ; for when the colors of hope and gladness had faded from the landscape of their lives, and nothing but a waste of splen- dorless days seemed to stretch in cheerless vista before them, they turned to the desk for solace, and found in the exercise of their literary skill, not peace alone, but fame. Milton wrote most of his great poem in blindness and disgrace; Clarendon completed his great history during a painful exile." * Thomas Hobhes (1588-1679) was a metaphysician, some of whose works belong to this period of our literature. He was born at Malmesbury, was educated at Oxford, as a student at the uni- versity was devoted to Logic and Philosophy, and in his maturity was a man of wonderful mental activity. Upon leaving Oxford he traveled on the Continent as a tutor to the young Earl of Devon- shire, and till the end of his long life retained an intimacy with the Earl's family. His patron secured him the acquaintance of the most distinguished men of the day — among them Bacon, Ben Jon- son, and Lord Herbert. Subsequently Hobbes passed several years in France and in Italy, and enlivened his studious pursuits by association with the most illustrious of his contemporaries — with Galileo and with Descartes. Ilobbes's earliest literary work was a translation of Thucydides. The first hints of his philosophical system were conveyed in two political treatises, published in 1642 and in 1650, for the avowed purpos 2 of quelling the spirit of republicanism in England. They were both incorporated into his most celebrated work, the Levia- than ; or the Matter, Form, and Power of a Commo/nrcalth, Ecclesi- astical and Civil. Therein he asserts that the primary motive of all human action is selfish interest ; that human nature is therefore essentially ferocious and corrupt, requiring the restraint of arbitrary power to bridle its passion. From these premises the expediency • Collier. JOHtf DRYDEN. 183 of despotic rule is deduced. The Behemoth, a history.of the Civil War, embracing the period between 1640 and 1660, was finished shortly before his death. The doctrines promulgated by Hobbea were odious to the religious people of his time, and were most welcome to the Court. His style is a model of its kind — clear, nervous, forcible, it conveys the exact meaning and produces the exact impression intended. He was a man whose reading was pro- found ; in the various branches of science and literature which he cultivated, he displayed that vigor which belongs to the thoughtful reader of few books. The most energetic assailant of Hobbes's conclusions in Phil- osophy was Dr. Ralph Cudworth (1617-1688), Regius Professor of Divinity at Cambridge, a vigorous writer and a candid polemic. So fairly did he put the arguments of the Atheists, that he brought down on himself — most unjustly indeed — the imputation of Athe- ism. His great work is the True Intellectual System of the Universe. JOHN DRYDEN. M Without either creative imagination or any power of pathos, he is in argument, In satire, and in declamatory magnificence, the greatest of our poets."— Q. L. Craik. "He was of a very easy, of a very pleasing access ; but somewhat sour, and, aa it were, difiident in his advances to others. 1 '— William Congreve. "My conversation is slow and dull, my humour saturnine and unreserved. In short, I am none of those who break jests in company, and make repartees."— John Dry den. 44 What a sycophant to the public taste was Dryden ! Sinning against his feel- ings, lewd in his writings, though chaste in his conversation."— William Cowper. "His plays, excepting a few scenes, are utterly disfigured by vice or folly or both. His translations appear too much the offspring of haste and hunger; even his fables are ill-chosen tales conveyed in an incorrect though spirited versification. Yet amidst this great number of loose prodtictions, the refuse of our language, there are found some small pieces, his « Ode to St. Cecilia, 1 the greater part of ' Absalom and Achitophel, 1 and a few more which discover so great genius, such richness of expression, such pomp and vanity of numbers, that they leave us equally full of regret and indignation on account of the inferiority, or rather, great absurdity of his other writings." -David Hume. *' I admire Dryden' s talents and genius highly ; but his is not a poetical genius. The only qualities I can find in Dryden that are essentially poetical are a certain ardor and impetuosity of mind with an excellent ear There is not a singl« image from nature in the whole of his works."- -William Wordsworth. 184 JOHN DRYDEN. In the last year of the fourteenth century Chaucer died. Just three hundred years later John Dryden (1G3 1-1700) dropped his pen, closed the bulky volume of his writings, and ended his eventful career. As poets they were utterly unlike. Chaucer's muse would not dwell in-doors, would roam the fields and the highways, addressing itself to the leaves, the flowers, the birds and the people; but the retire- ment and the conveniences of the library gave inspiration to the muse of Dryden. His pleasure was in an argument rather than in a landscape; there was for him more music in the rhythm of the epigram than in all the melodies of nature. During the Civil War aud the Commonwealth the interests of his friends were identified with the Puritan cause. His association with the austere and unpoetical may account for his displaying few signs of literary precocity. At the age of twenty-nine he had written nothing but school-boy translations and odes, and an elegy on the death of Cromwell. Under a continuance of republican rule he might have used his abilities to achieve position in the state, without one thought of a poetical career. But the Restora- tion took place just as he was ready to enter active life ; and the powerful relatives from whom he had expected prefer- ment came into disgrace. It was necessary for him to begin the world on his own account, and he chose to begin it on the winning side. Taste to appreciate literary talent, and power to reward it, were both with the party of the royalists. Accordingly, Dryden abandoned his Puritan predilections, published an ode of fervent welcome to the returning king, and joined the crowd which struggled for place and distinc- tion around the throne. The revival of the drama had just re-opened a lucrative field for the professional author, and Dryden found it expedient to devote himself principally to the stage. He worked with energy and tact, choosing the subjects suited to the taste of the lime, and soliciting in laudatory prefaces the patronage of the powerful. DRYDEN. 185 His Non-Dramatic Works. He had already attained much dramatic popularity, when, in 1667, his first narrative poem attracted general admiration. This was the Annus Mirdbilis (142), written to commemorate the terrible Plague 1666.] and Fire of London, and the War with the Dutch. Its dignity of style and its harmonious verse merited praise ; and the fact that it was filled with unfounded eulogy of the worthless king by no means detracted from the fame of its author. The subject of Dry den's next production was equally fortunate. In an elaborate prose Essay on Dramatic Poetry, he upheld the use of rhyme in tragedy, and ranged himself with those who were trying to engraft French drama- tic rules upon the English stage. From this time the rise of his fortunes was rapid. In 1670 he was appointed Poet Laureate and Royal Historiographer. The King's Company of Players contracted with him to supply them with three dramas a year.* He associated with the favorites at Court. He enjoyed the patronage of the king; his income was respectable ; the prestige of his honorable descent, his fine personal appearance and his brilliant talent, won him an Earl's daughter for a wife. He was the oracle of scholarly circles, and an admired member of fashionable society ; while the versatile character of his mind, as well as regard for his own interests, led him to take an active share in public affairs. We owe some of the most powerful efforts of his genius to his participation in political intrigues. Absalom and Achitophel (144), his first and best satire, appeared in 1681, when such intrigues were especially viru- lent. It was a political pamphlet, .written in the interests of the king's party, attacking the policy of Chancellor Shaftesbury; and at the same time it gave Dryden an opportunity to revenge himself upon his personal foes and * This engagement he did not long fulfill, for in 1694, he had produced hut twert;;-cight plays in thirty-two years. He was still employed by the company, his services evidently being considered too valuable to be relinquished on any terms. 186 DRY DEN. literary rivals, — the Duke of Buckingham * and the poets Settle and Shad well. It is full of masterpieces of character- painting, not always just, but always vigorous. The en- thusiasm with which it was received, confirmed Dryden's poetical supremacy. The attack upon Shaftesbury was renewed, in a second satire entitled The Medal, and in the following year his brilliant MacFlecknoe \ brought discom- fiture again to Settle and Shadwell. In the same year the Religio Laid (147), was written in defence of the Anglican Church against Deists, Papists, and Presbyterians. It was probably the utterance of a man already perplexed concerning religious questions which were afterwards answered by him in a way altogether inconsistent with the sentiments of this poem. In 1686 he forsook the church which he had so powerfully defended, and entered the Roman Catholic communion. The good faith of this conversion has often been called in question ; for it coincided suspiciously with King James's proselyting measures. Many circumstances, however, tend to prove its sincerity; he patiently suffered deprivation and some persecution on account of his new faith, he carefully trained his children in the venerable church of Rome, he wrote his Hind and Panther in sympathy with her reverses. The Religio Laid and the Hind and Panther display Dryden's power in that most difficult species of writing which masks abstract rea- soning in poetical form. The arguments of each are dear. The powerful march of the thought, the noble outbursts of enthusiasm, the rhetoric, and the beauty of the abundant * In this satire, names from the Old Testament indicate the leaders of the Whigs, in Dryden's day. The Duke of Monmouth was Absalom; the Earl of Shaftesbury Achitophel; and the Duke of Buckingham, Zimri (145). Dryden had a special grudge against Buckingham tor his share in the production of a popular farce. The Jiehearsal, In which Drydon'* dramatic faults were mercilessly ridiculed. t Flccknoc was a vain, busy scribbler for whom Dryden felt great contempt, filing the name with a patronymic to Sluidwell, that poet is represented M the heir of Flecknoc's stupidity. DRY DEN. 187 illustration, take the judgment by storm, and make us alternately converts to the one faith and to the other. Religio Laid is a direct expression of doctrinal views. The Hind and Panther is half -allegorical in form. Two animals are represented as engaging in an elaborate argument concerning the churches which they symbolize. The "milk-white hind" is the Roman Catholic, the panther the Established Church, while various minor sects take part in the discussion in the characters of the wolf, the bear, the fox, etc. The absurdity of this plan, half-excused by its novelty, is sometimes wholly forgotten in the scope it gives for picturesque imagery and witty descriptive touches. Dryden's non-dramatic poems were generally written in the heroic couplet, a measure which he wielded with peculiar power. Its regular structure served his purpose alike in argument, description, narration, and declamation. The music of that rhythm, instead of weakening his thought, seemed to give it energy. Dryden's Adversity. The Revolution of 1688, by which William and Mary were placed upon the throne of England, deprived Dry den of his Laureateship. The Protestant Court did not smile upon the Catholic poet. But poverty, advancing age, failing health, and the malice of exultant foes, proved powerless to impair his energy; and his last years were the most illustrious of his literary career. He continued to write for the stage until 1694; but after that year he busied himself chiefly with translation. His poetical versions of Juvenal, Persius and Virgil appeared in 1693 ; and the very last year of his life was made illustrious by his Fables, a series of renderings from Chaucer and Boccaccio (149). For twelve years Dryden had lived in obscurity and neglect; yet when he died in 1700, evidence of the high 188 DRY DEN. esteem in which he was held was promptly given ; for while his family was preparing to bury him in a style suited to humble circumstances, a large subscription was raised to give him whatever tribute there might be in an imposing funeral. His body was conveyed in state to Westminster Abbey, and was interred between the tombs of Chaucer and Cowley. His Literary Development. Critics have justly said that Dryden, more than any other poet, would gain apprecia- tion from a chronological survey of his writings. In range of thought, and in power of expression, he was a man of steady growth. This development is indicated by the de- partments of composition to which he successively devoted himself. His panegyrical poems and the dramas which pandered to the corrupt sentiments of his age, were pro- duced in the years of his struggle for recognition ; his best dramas, his thoughtful criticisms, his satires, polemics, translations, fables and odes, — in short, all those works exhibiting the higher qualities of his mind, were written in the dignified maturity of his manhood, or in his noble old age. His Dramas. In his first plays he is the representative of the great revolution in taste which followed the Restoration, supplanting the noble romantic drama of the Elizabethan era by a travesty of French models. His comedies are de- graded to the immoral public sentiment. There is in them no fine delineation of character, no flow of humor. They were popular because they were gross; and their author courted popularity as the means by which he could replenish his shrunken purse. Like all other productions of mer- cenary art, these dramas were soulless and mean.* In * Bit [Dryden's] indelicacy was like the forced impudence of abas'iftil man.' — Walter Scott. DRYDEN. 189 tragedy he strove towards superhuman ideals of heroic and amorous life, and succeeded in being incredibly bombastic and unnatural. He seems to have been conscious of his own defects, for he exercised much ingenuity in concealing them from the public. His comedies were enlivened by witty allusions and curious intrigue; his tragedies were sustained by picturesque situations and powerful declama- tion. Over all he threw the veil of graceful versification, easy, melodious, balancing grievous defects of sense by harmony of sound. His recognition of his own indebted- ness to this help may have made him so long an advocate of the use of rhyme in tragedy. In his later years, an intimate acquaintance with the Shakespearean authors led Dryden to a juster idea of the province of the drama. He returned to the national use of blank verse, and de- veloped considerable power in portraying violent passion and strongly-marked character. There is splendid imagery m many of his passages. In the preface of All for Love, the poet thus acknowledges the source of his in- spiration: "In my style I have professed to imitate the divine Shakespeare I hope I may affirm, and without vanity, that by imitating him I have excelled myself." Many beautiful songs are interspersed among the scenes of Dryden 's dramas ; but his most admired lyric is the Ode on St. Cecilia's Bay* (150). It was written to be set to music, and celebrates the powers and triumphs of that art. In energy and in harmony it surpasses all other lyrics of our language. * " Mr. St. John, afterwards Lord Bolingbroke, happening to pay a morning visit to Dryden, whom he always respected, found him in an unusual agitation of spirits, even to a trembling. On inquiring the cause— l I have been up all night,' replied the old bard ; l my musical friends made me promise to write them an ode for the Feast of St. Cecilia; I have been so struck with the subject which occurred to me, that I could not leave it till I had completed it—here it is, finished at one sitting.— Warton. 190 DRYDEN\ Dryden's Translation of the -ffineid. Dryden's version of the jEneid is the most famous of his translations. The translator had a spirit much unlike that of the old master, and could not reproduce the spirit of the poem. The majesty of Virgil's manner is always tempered by consum- mate grace; and Dryden, however endowed with majesty, was deficient in elegance and grace. He was too free and careless to give a faithful version of the most accurate of poems. A similar lack of adaptability is noticed in his ren- derings of the Fables from Chaucer and Boccaccio ; but their flowing ease of expression, the frequent recurrence of beauti- ful lines and striking images, and their freedom from the author's fault of occasional coarseness, make them most welcome illustrations of his poetical power. His Prose. Dryden's prose writings are numerous, and must have weight in determining our estimate of his ability and influence. They are in the forms of essays, prefaces, or dedications prefixed to his various works. He was the first enlightened critic who wrote in the English language; but in criticism as in poetry he was a development. Ma- cau lay acutely remarks, that no man influenced his age so much as Dryden, because no man was so much influenced by his age. An Essay on Dramatic Poetry was the earliest statement of his critical system. Its general spirit is that of servile conformity to popular opinion ; but its reasoning, albeit from false premises, is cogent. The style of his prose writing was admirable; his English was lively, vigorous, idiomatic, equally removed from mannerism and from care- lessness. Interesting discussions of Dryden's life and works may be found in Johnson's Lives of the Poets, Mucaulay's Essays, Wilson's Essays (Blackwood's Magazine, Vol. lA'IU. Etod'l lirifish forts, Vol I., U.izlitt's Works. Vol. IV.. Tart II.. Sec. IV., Uallam's Literature of Europe, Vol. IV., North American Rei-iew, July, 1868, Tnine's English Literature. DEYDEN. 191 In this chapter we have considered:— The Literature of the Restoration. 1. Samuel Butler,— Hi id ibr as. 2. John Banyan,— Pilgrim's Progress from this World to that which Is to Come, 3. Izaak Walton. 4. John Evelyn, and Samuel Pepys, 5. Edward Hyde. 6. Thomas Hobbes. 7. John JDryden. a. His Non-Dramatic Works* b. His Adversity. c. His Literary Development. d. His Translation of the JEnePH, e. His Prose* CHAPTEH XVI. THE CORRUPT DRAMA WHEN Dryden wrote for the stage, he degraded his talente, as we have seen, to the service of an immoral public. That same corrupt society debauched a company of brilliant men, younger than Dryden, who devoted themselves exclusively to dramatic composition. In aim and in manner they are so unlike the great playwrights of the preceding century that they are often spoken of as the authors of "The New Drama." The aim of Shakespeare and his comrades had been to portray nature and natural passion. Recognizing the fact that nature is infinitely complex, they had introduced comic scenes and characters into their tragedies, as they admitted elevacea reeling ana language into their comedies. The Style and Spirit of the New Drama. In the new drama that followed the Restoration, an exaggerated, bombastic tragedy, on the one hand, was counterbalanced, on the other, by the comedy of artificial life. Material was drawn not from nature, but from society. Declamation and pompous tirades displaced the old dialogue — a dialogue so varied, so natural, touching every key of human feel- ing. Wit usurped the province of humor ; and the comic drama- tists delineated, not character, but manners. They were apt in reflecting the spirit of their age; but they had no deep philosophic insight into human nature. Their works are a splendid revelation of the powers of the English language; yet few among them an capable of awakening a thrill of genuine sympathetic feeling. They do not deal with the springs of human passion ami action ; more- over there is an ingrained profligacy about them; and so, while they lack the one. quality that would make them attractive, they display the spirit that makes them repulsive to the modern taste. WILLIAM WYCHERLEY. 193 The works of Dryden may be regarded as the link connecting the older drama with the new. • The Comic Dramatists. William Wycherley (1640-1715) was the first of the comic dramatists who reproduced to the fullest extent the peculiar influences of his day. He received his educa- tion in the household of a French noble, and returned to England to become a brilliant figure in the society of London. His first comedy. Love in a Wood, was acted when he was thirty-two years old. The Gentleman Dancing Master, The Country Wife, and The Plain Dealer followed at irregular intervals, the last one appearing in 1677 ; and these four plays are the only results of his dramatic work. He soon after lost the favor of the Court through an unfortunate marriage, and the remainder of his life was melancholy and ignoble. At the age of sixty-five he made a vain attempt to regain public admiration by means of a collection of poetical miscellanies; but being stained with all the. immorality of his youthful productions, and redeemed by none of their intellectual brilliancy, the book fell dead upon the market. The small number of Wycherley's dramatic works, as well as the style of their composition, indicates that he was neither very original in conception, nor capable of producing anything, save by patient labor and careful revision. The leading ideas of his two best comedies are derived from Moliere. But Wycherley, infected with the corruption of his age, modified the data of the great French dramatist, and so changed what was pure as to outrage moral sensibility. Setting aside this ingrained fault, Wycherley's plots and characters reveal much ingenuity and humorous power, His plays are admirably adapted for representation. Frequent sudden transitions of the intrigue fascinate the attention without fatiguing it, and give rise to striking "situations," which are always treated with masterly comic effect. The dialogue is easy, vivacious, amusing, and its touches of witty satire are frequent. The Country Wife is generally pronounced to be the best of his comedies. In the esteem of his contemporaries William Congreve (1670 *- * The inscription on his monument says that he was born in 1672. 9 194 WILLIAM coNiiiiKVh, 1729) stood pre-eminent among the comic dramatists. He had the tastes of the man of fashion, with the talents of the man of letters; and his education at Trinity College, Dublin, gave him scholarship far superior to that of his rivals. Going to London to study law, his graces soon made him a favorite in fashionable circles. Be- tween 1692 and 1700 he devoted the intervals of social dissipation to dramatic writing, and produced five plays, — The Old Bachelor (1693), The Double Dealer (1694), Late for Love (1695), The Mourning Bride (1697), and The Way of the World (1700). They were all received with favor by the public and by the critics. The brilliancy of the youug author's talents won for him rich patronage. After the beginning of the eighteenth century he published only a volume of trifling miscellanies; but his reputation and prosperity continued to the end of his life. Successive ministers of the government vied with each other in granting him lucrative sine- cures. He accumulated a large fortune, and commanded the society of wealth and of intellect. Dryden named him his suc- cessor in poetical supremacy, and Pope, in dedicating a translation of Homer, passed by powerful and illustrious patrons to recognize Congreve as the patriarch of letters. When he died, in 1729, he was honored with almost a national funeral. Congreve's scenes are one incessant flash and sparkle of the finest repartee; and his wit, like all wit of the highest order, is invariably allied with shrewd sense and acute observation. He stands alone in his power of divesting this intellectual sword-play of every shade of formality. The conversations of his characters are accurate imitations of the conversation of fashionable life. His characters are artificial, modeled after the affected men and women of Congreve's society. Not one of his scenes is relieved by a breath of nature; indeed we have little intimation that he knew aught of either nature or simplicity. Love for Love is Congreve's masterpiece. Its characters are strikingly varied, and they relie\r each other with unrelaxing spirit. Its intrigue, too, is rflVrtively managed, and is better than that of any of his other comedies. His one tragedy, Tfie Mourning Bride, written in solemn and pompous strain, though rapturously applauded when first given to the public, has now no power of pleasing. Its scenes of distress cannot touch the heart; its lofty tirades cannot stir the passions. What VANBEUGH. FARQUHAR. 195 enchantment it has for the modern reader is found in the power and melody of its descriptive passages. Another popular author of this school was Sir John Vanbrugh (Van-broo) (1666-1726), a famous architect, fiis dramatic talent is exhibited in comedies, — The Relapse, The Provoked Wife, JEsop, The Confederacy, several adaptations from Moliere, and Tne Pro- voked Husband, left incomplete at the author's death. His fund of invention enables him to surpass either Wycherley or Congreve in developing a character or an incident to its full capacity for comic effect. His personages have an incurable habit of getting into difficulties, and inexhaustible ingenuity in getting out. All are sketched from life — swaggering fops, booby squires, pert cham- bermaids, and intriguing dames — and sketched with such vivacity as would make amends for any fault, save that of pervading coarse- ness and obscenity. The reader finds himself in bad company ; for all the men are rascals, and none of the women are as good as they should be. The comic drama of this generation found its last expression in the works of George Farquhar (1678-1707). He w T as an Irish- man, who was dismissed from Trinity College, Dublin, at the age of eighteen, on account of some boyish irregularities. He then pursued the calling of an actor; but having accidentally inflicted a dangerous wound upon a comrade on the stage, he quitted his profession and entered the army. He soon entered the lists as a dramatist, and wrote his comedies in rapid succession. His literary career was crowded into ten years, — from 1698, when his first play was acted, until 1707, the date of his early death. His principal plays are Love and a Bottle, The Constant Couple, The Inconstant, The Twin Rivals, The Recruiting Officer and Tlie Beaux' Stratagem. His heroes are in sympathy with himself, — happy, hot-blooded, rattling fellows, whose madcap pranks are prompted by the rash- ness of youth. They are much given to deceptions and wanton tricks, but betray none of the vicious coarseness of Wycherley's villains, nor any of the refined rascality of Vanbrugh 's sharpers. The Beaux' Stratagem was the last of his comedies, and is also considered the best. It is an entertaining and ingenious portrayal of the adventures of two gentlemen who went into the country 196 . J B B Bli V COLLIER. disguised as master and servant. Whole scenes are filled with a rich humor which recalls the spirit of the older drama. In several of the other plays there are passages worked up into brilliant comic effect. " The one feature which above all others forces itself upon our notice in every work of the whole school, is the absolute shame- lessness of every person portrayed, male or female. Not one of their leading characters is represented with the slightest conception that the grossest vices are things to be concealed; chastity is derided by the ladies as unblushingly as by the gentlemen, and vice is not only rampaut but triumphant." * Jeremy Collier. Such glaring shamelessness did not go un- rebuked. A sturdy clergyman, Jeremy Collier (1650-1726), faced the scorn of play-goers, and presented himself as the champion of decency. He published A Short View of the Immorality and Pro- faneness of the English Stage, in which he defiantly attacked Wycher- ley, Congreve and Dryden. The pamphlet was written with fiery energy and with wit, and rallied the sympathies of all moral and thoughtful men in the nation. Dryden himself sincerely and gracefully acknowledged the justice of Collier's strictures.! A defence was undertaken by Wycherley, Congreve and Vanbrugh ; but the assault had been so vigorous, and was pushed with such resoluteness, that victory remained with the assailant. The contro- versy resulted in giving a better tone to the drama and to lighter literature in general, and from that time there has been a gradual improvement which has given to the readers of English the purest modern literature. Collier was the author of An Ecclesiadical History of Great Britain, and an industrious writer in various lines of thought; but as his grandest triumph was won in his battle with the corrupt dramatists, his name is placed with theirs. * C. D. Yonge. t " I shall say less of Mr. Collier, because in many things he has taxed me justly; and I have pleaded gafltj to all thoughts and expressions of mine which can be truly argued of obscenity, profaneness or immorality, and retract them. If he be my enemy, let bin triumph ; if he be my friend, as I have given him no personal occasion to be otherwise, ho will be glad of my repentance."— Dryden, Preface to FaUet. OTWAY, LEE, ROWE. 197 The Tragic Dramatists. Among the exclusively tragic drama- tists of this epoch the first place belongs to Thomas Otway (1651- 1685), who died at the early age of thirty-four, after a life of wretchedness and irregularity. He received a regular education at Oxford, and very early entered the profession of an actor. During this part of his career he produced three tragedies, — Alcibiades, Don Carlos, and Titus and Berenice. After a brief service in the army he returned to the stage ; and in the years from 1680 to his death he wrote four more tragedies, — Gains Marius, The Orphan, The Soldier's Fortune, and Venice Preserved. These works, with the exception of The Orphan and Venice Preserved, are now nearly forgotten ; but the glory of Otway is so firmly established upon these two plays, that it will probably endure as long as the language itself. As a tragic dramatist, his most striking merit is his pathos. The distress in his poems reaches a pitch of terrible intensity. His style is vigorous and racy. In reading his best passages we may continually notice a flavor of Ford, Beaumont and other masters of the Elizabethan era. Nathaniel Lee (1657 ?-1692), in spite of protracted attacks of insanity, was able to acquire a high reputation for dramatic genius. In all his plays there is a wild and exaggerated imagery, sometimes reminding the reader of Marlowe. He assisted Dryden in the composition of several of his pieces, and wrote eleven original tragedies. Nicholas Howe (1673-1718), like Congreve, furnishes a happy contrast to the wretched lives of many dramatists who w r ere by no means his inferiors in talent. He was an admired member of the fashionable society of his day, and belonged to Pope's circle of wits and scholars. Secured against want by the possession of a fortune, he also held many lucrative offices and was made Poet Laureate as a reward for his literary work. Rowe was the first who undertook the critical editing of Shakespeare ; and to this work he owes his celebrity as a literary man. His own dramatic works comprise seven tragedies, of which Jane Shore, The Fair Penitent and Lady Jane Grey are the most noteworthy. From the time of Dryden until the end of the first quarter of 198 POETRY AFTER DRY DEN. the eighteenth century, English poetry exhibits a character equally remote from the splendid imagery of the Elizabethan era, and from the picturesque intensity of the modern school. Correctness and an affected regard for what was called " sense " were the quali- ties chiefly cultivated. The abuse of ingenuity which disfigures the poetry of Cowley, Donne and Quarles was avoided ; but there was likewise a want of feeling. It is remarkable how many of the non-dramatic poets of this time were men of rank and fashion, whose literary efforts were simply the accomplishments of amateurs. Consult Macaulay's Essay on The Comic Dramatists of the Restoration, The Dramatic Works of Wycherley, Oongreve, Vanbrugh and Farquhar, edited by Leigtj Hunt, Hallam's Literature of Europe, Vol. IV., Hazlitt's Lectures on the Enylul. Comic Writers, Lect. IV. In this chapter we have considered:— The Corrupt Drama. 1. The Style and Spirit of the New Drama, 2. The Comic Dramatists. a. William Wycherley. b. William Congreve. c. Sir John Vanbrugh. d. George Farquhar. 3. Jeremy Collier, 4. The Tragic Dramatists. a. Thomas Otway. b. Nathaniel Lee. c. Nicholas Rowe. B. Poetry after Dry den's Epoch, CHAPTER XVil. "HE PHILOSOPHERS AND THEOLOGIANS OF LOCKE'S TIME, JOHN LOCKE. " The most elegant of prose writers."— W. 8. Landor. "All his contemporaries, and, what is better, all the known actions of his life, testify that no one was more sincerely and constantly attached to truth, virtue, and the cause of human liberty.' 1 — Victor Cousin. "He gave the first example in the English language of writing on abstract subjects with a remarkable degree of simplicity and perspicuity."— Thomas Beid. M We who find some things to censure in Locke, have perhaps learned how to censure them from himself; we have thrown off so many false notions and films of prejudice by his help that we are become capable of judging our mastc"— Henry Hallam. " If Bacon first discovered the rules by which knowledge is improved, Locke has most contributed to make mankind at large observe them His writings have diffused throughout the civilized world the love of civil liberty ; the spirit of toleration and charity in religious differences ; the disposition to reject whatever is obscure, fantastic, or hypothetical in speculation ; to reduce verbal disputes to their proper value; to abandon problems which admit of no solution ; to distrust whatever cannot be clearly expressed ; to render theory the simple expression of facts ; and to prefer those studies which most directly contribute to human hap- piness."—^ James Mackintosh. " Few among the great names in philosophy have met with a harder measure of justice from the present generation than Locke, the unquestioned founder of the analytical philosophy of mind,"— John Stuart Mill. THE English Revolution of 1688 secured constitutional free- dom for the state, and gave a powerful impulse to practical progress in science and philosophy. The period displays the names of Newton and Locke, the former famous in physical, the other in intellectual science. 200 * JOHN LOCKE. John Locke (1632-1704), son of an officer in the Puritan army, was reared in an atmosphere of political independence and devout enthusiasm. A tendency to metaphysical speculation seems native to the followers of Calvinistic theology; and, doubtless, the natural bent of Locke's mind was encouraged by his early associations. When he entered Oxford, at the age of nineteen, he had already developed a taste for psychological study, and a habit of indepen- dent thinking. Independent thinking was not encouraged in a university which u piqued itself on being behind the spirit of the age." Locke soon discovered Oxford to be the citadel of the out- worn scholasticism of the Middle Ages. He became filled with disgust at the empty subtleties which sheltered themselves under the name of Aristotle. In after years he frequently regretted that his early manhood had been passed under such adverse influences. However, there can be no doubt that standing in constant antag- onism to the conservative spirit of the university training was influential in forming his intellectual character. During the thirteen years which he spent at Oxford — first as bachelor, then as master — much of his time was devoted to preparation for the practice of medicine. He thus came into contact with the vigorous and pw> gressive spirit which was transfusing physical science. Meanwhile his interest in metaphysics was stimulated by study of Bacon and Descartes, and by familiar discussions with his friends. Locke possessed fine conversational powers ; and his associates were chosen from among the brilliant and entertainiug rather than from among the studious and profound. In its bearing upon the cir- cumstances of his later life, and the tendency of his works, this fact is worthy of note. It indicates Ifis remarkable union of the talents of the student with such tastes and practical abilities as make the man of the world. • Locke's Relation to Shaftesbury. In 1G64 Locke assumed the secretaryship of a diplomatic mission, and remained on the Conti- nent for a year. After his return to Oxford, he was for a time in doubt whether to continue in diplomatic service, or to begin the practice of medicine. The latter alternative seemed Inexpedient on account of his delicate health. Conscientious motives prompted him also to reject a flattering offer of preferment in the Irish Church. At this juncture, a chance acquaintance with Lord JOHN LOCKE. 201 Ashley, afterwards Earl of Shaftesbury, determined his career. He recommended himself to this nobleman by a fortunate exercise of his medical skill, and confirmed his regard by charms of character and of conversation. Shaftesbury's own social qualities were of the most attractive order. Under the influence-of mutual admira tion and intellectual sympathy, a warm and enduring friendship arose between the two. Locke took up his residence in Shaftes- bury's house, conducted the education, first of his son and after- wards of his grandson, and to a great degree became identified with his political fortunes. Enjoying the friendship and familiar con- verse of the talented statesmen who surrounded his patron, Locke's attention was naturally directed to theories of politics and govern- ment. He filled various offices during Shaftesbury's two seasons of political ascendency, and in 1679 assisted him and others in framing the constitution of the province of Carolina. When, in 1682, Shaftesbury fled to Holland under the accusation of high treason, Locke shared his exile and his disgrace. He bore his mis- fortunes with true philosophical fortitude, and chose to remain in Holland during the reign of James II. In the congenial society of many distinguished men who, like him, were exiles for con- science's sake, he devoted himself with renewed zest to philosophical study. His Letter on Toleration and an abstract of the Essay on tfie Human Understanding were both published before his return to England in 1689. Under the rule of William and Mary, Locke's public career was active and useful. He was made a commissioner of appeals; and as a member of the Council of Trade rendered important assistance in the reformation of the coinage. In 1690, the full edition of his Essay on the Human Understanding attracted general attention (161). In fourteen years it passed through six editions— an unprecedented sale, considering the character of the work. In 1700 Locke's failing health compelled him to resign his official duties. He found a tranquil retreat in the home of his friend, Sir Francis Mesham. The last years of his life were devoted to Scriptural study and devout contemplation, and in 1704 he died, at the ripe age of seventy-two. Locke's Contribution to English Thought. In order to form a just estimate of the power of Locke's mind and of the extent of 202 JOHN LOCKE. hia influence, it is necessary to consider the age of which he- part. He has been called the most illustrious of Bacon's apostles. The praise is not misplaced. Hobbes had already proclaimed psychology to be a science of observation, but he had been too intent on establishing such of its laws as might support his politi- cal views to make a comprehensive study of the whole. It was reserved for Locke to demonstrate the utility of the method of observation and experiment. Like his great master, Bacon, he sought fruit; his most abstract study evinced his union of the philosopher with the business man. In his great work, the Essay on the Human Understanding, he proposes to give a rational and clear account of the nature of the human mind, of the real charac- ter of human ideas, of the source whence -they are derived, and of the manner in which they are presented to the consciousness. With unwearied patience he travels over the immense field of mental phenomena, describing, analyzing, classifying, with a prac- tical sagacity which is equaled only by the purity of his desire for truth. His work is, as Mr. Hallam justly observes, " the first real chart of the coasts, wherein some may be laid down incorrectly, but the general relations of all are perceived." The obligation under which he has placed succeeding thinkers can scarcely be over-estimated. When we censure his superficial investigations and his narrow views, we forget that he was the pioneer of a new path. We complain of his language as careless and unphilosophi- cal. The style of his expression was determined by the object of his writing. He hated the empty and illusive jargon of the schools; he triad to bring abstract knowledge within the range of the popular comprehension. The Essay was the first English work which attracted general attention to metaphysical speculation. When public curiosity was stimulated by the attacks which were made upon its liberal views, the public read it, understood it. thought about it. Now that the inquiry which it provoked has produced such grand results, it is of no slight significance that a great modem philosopher calls it "the richest contribution of well- observed and well-described facts which was ever bequeathed by a single individual, and the indisputable, though not always acknowl- edged, source of some of the most refined conclusions with rapoct to the intellectual phenomena which have been sinee brought to light by succeeding inquirers." ISAAC BARROW. 203 From the causes which we have already noted, Locke was lesi exposed than most thinkers to the dangers of visionary speculation. On the other hand, he frequently wrote upon subjects of interest to himself and his nation, and deserves credit for his freedom from passion and party prejudice. Witness the calm and impartial tone of his Letter on Toleration, composed while he himself was under the ban of his university aud his government. The same qualities characterize his Treatise on Civil Government. This work inaugu- rated a new state of political sentiment in Europe. Undertaken in order to justify the principles of the English Revolution, it vindicates the justice of popular sovereignty. Locke's views are not always the most profound, nor his arguments always unim- peachable. Like the Essay, the value of the Treatise is now in great measure superseded by the investigation which it provoked. In a practical way, the essay on Education has been hardly less influential than the two preceding works. Locke himself had felt all the disadvantages of the prevailing method of instruction. He makes an impressive plea for a more liberal and practical sys- tem, both in the choice of the subject-matter to be taught, and in the mode of conveying instruction. Taken as a whole, his work is a monument of good sense and sincere benevolence. It did much to bring about that beneficial revolution which the last century has effected in the training of the young. Besides these works, there may be mentioned a treatise On the Reasonableness of Christianity, pervaded by a spirit of calm piety which decisively contradicts the statements of those bigots who have accused Locke of irreligious tendencies. After his death a small but admirable little work was published, entitled, On the Conduct of the Understanding. It is a manual of reflections upon those natural defects and evil habits of the mind which unfit it for the task of acquiring knowledge, and was designed to form a supplementary chapter to his greater work.* Isaac Barrow (1630-1677) stands at the head of the theologians of his time. He was a man of profound attainments. At the University of Cambridge, his studies took a wide range. He began his preparation for the Church before the establishment * For farther discussions of this topic consult Lewes's History of Philosophy Vol. II., and Sir James Mackintosh in the British Essayists. 204 ISAAC BARROW. of the Commonwealth. After the ascendency of Puritan principles seemed to have destroyed his prospects for preferment, he trans- ferred his attention to medicine and the natural sciences. Even after his return to theological studies, he devoted much time to the classics and mathematics. In both he attained distinguished pro ficiency. At the age of twenty-nine he was made professor of Greek in the University; and with this appointment he soon com- bined the professorship of Geometry in Gresham College. In 1663 he resigned both chairs, to accept the Lucasian professorship of mathematics. In this position, which he filled with ability lor HI years, he fostered and befriended the rising genius of Newton, and it was to Newton that he resigned his office in 1669. His Latin treatises on Optics, Mechanics, and Astronomy, established his rank among the best mathematicians of his age. Indeed, it is Barrow's misfortune that his scientific reputation is eclipsed by the superior splendor of his great successor. Had he not lived in Newton's time, and pursued nearly the same branches of investigation, he would have held a proud place among English scientists. Previous to resigning his professorship, Barrow had taken holy orders, and had resolved to devote himself to theological pursuits. A brilliant and useful career opened at once before him. He was made one of the King's chaplains; his sermons soon became famous (162)- I n 1672 lie was elected Master of Trinity College, the King remarking, as he confirmed the appointment, that be bad given the place to the best scholar in England. In 1675 the list of his honors was augmented by the Vice-Chancel lorship of the University of Cambridge; but he did not long survive this last distinction. His death occurred at the early. age of forty-six, in the splandid maturity of his activity and his talents. His Pulpit Eloquence. Contemporaneous accounts state that Barrow's appearance in the pulpit was far from imposing, and that the beginning of his discourses was always hampered by diffidence and embarrassment. They add, however, that when bia enthusiasm was fairly awakened by his subject, the magnetic influence of his oratory was irresistible. The dignity and grandeur of his sermons have rarely been equaled. He attacks and vanquishes the most ponderous difficulties of Protestant theology with heroic Many of his best sermons form series, devoted to the exhaustive JOLK TILLOTSON. - 205 explanation of particular departments of religious doctrine. For instance, one excellent series discusses the Lord's Prayer, which is anatomized, clause by clause. Another, consisting of eight dis- courses, treats of the government of the tongue; another, of the Decalogue ; another, of the Sacraments. Each and all of these voluminous productions — for Barrow's sermons are seldom less than an hour and a half long — is instinct with fervent and devout pur- pose. The ideas are expanded with such mathematical breadth and exactness, that the expression sometimes becomes involved and laborious. But there is no empty writing ; the language is always filled with thought. He is said to have been scrupulously attentive to the composition of his sermons, and to have subjected many to a third and fourth revision. His style is always pure and nervous, and sometimes vivacious ; occasionally single passages attain a rich conciseness. He writes almost without imagery or illustration. The teeming fancy which made Jeremy Taylor's discourses such marvels of poetical beauty was in him displaced by the activity of reason. There is no English prose writer of that day whose works would be more invigorating to the mind or better adapted to the formation of a pure taste. Nor can there be a better proof that the most capable critics have agreed in this opinion, than the fact that Chatham recommended Barrow to his son as the finest model of eloquence, and that the accomplished Landor has not hesitated to place him above the greatest of the ancient thinkers. John Tillotson (1630-1694), though his mental force was far inferior to that of Barrow, stands next him among the pulpit- orators of the time. While studying at Cambridge he made himself conspicuous by his decided Puritan sympathies ; but in later life his views gradually assimilated themselves to those of the Anglican Church. He finally took holy orders, and in the reign of William and Mary rose to the dignity of Archbishop of Canterbury. The change of party seems to have wrought no effect upon him beyond an increase of candor and of indulgence for all shades of sincere opinion. He was renowned as a preacher; although his sermons fall far short of Barrow's in power and originality, they are quite as well adapted to command popularity. Good sense and earnest- ness are their most laudable characteristics ; their piety is sincere without being very elevated, and their style is easy, perspicuous, 206 • ROBERT SOUTH. and unaffected (163)^ Languor and tediousness sometimes mar their excellence of expression ; the sentences are often singularly unmusical ; and the evident effort to maintain a colloquial tone frequently introduces trivial images and illustrations. But Tillot- son's^sermons long preserved a wide reputation, not only as examples of practical piety, but as admirable specimens of composition. Dryden did not hesitate to own that his own prose style was formed after Tillotson's. " If I have any talent for English," he said, " it is owing to my having often read the writings of the Archbishop Tillotson." Robert South (1633-1716), reputed the wittiest churchman of his time, was also the most bigoted of those clergymen who upheld the peculiar principles of the Stuart dynasty. He was an apostate from the Puritan party. Oxford had imbued him with the doc- trines of passive obedience and th* divine right of kings; and his resolute maintenance of these opinions combined with the qualities of his pulpit oratory to secure him great popularity during the reigns of Charles II. and James II. By the animation of his manner, and by an amiable conformity to the prevailing sentiment of polite society, he charmed his courtly audiences. His sermons are easy and colloquial in tone, frequently enlivened by witty passages and pleasant anecdotes. The judgment of our day detects his lack of devout sincerity, and condemns his fulsome homage to the royal power no less than his intolerant denunciation of liberal principles. But it must be admitted that he is a master of racy, idiomatic English (164)- He has surpassed his greater and worthier contemporaries in hi» admirable blending of ease and harmony of expression with mas- culine vigor of thought. The Progress of Physical Scienoe. There are few episodes in the history of human knowledge more surprising than the sudden and dazzling progress made in the physical sciences towards the end of the seventeenth century. This progress is visible in Ger- many, in Holland, and in France; but in none of these count ries more than in England. It was just and natural that the vivifying effect produced by the writings and by the method of Bacon should be peculiarly powerful in that country which gave birth to the SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 207 great reformer of philosophy. There is no doubt that the develop- ment of free institutions and open discussion exercised a powerful influence in facilitating research, in promoting a spirit of inquiry, and in rendering possible the open expression of opinion. The renowned Royal Society * played a prominent part in the great movement, especially in the branches of physics and natural history. Sir Isaac Newton (1642-1727) was born at Woolsthorpe, in Lincolnshire. From his earliest boyhood he showed taste and aptitude for mechanical invention; and entering the University of Cambridge in 1660, he made such rapid progress in mathe- matical studies that in nine years Barrow resigned in his i'avor the Lucasian professorship. The greater part of Newton's life was passed within the quiet walls of Trinity College. It was there that he elaborated those admirable discoveries and demonstrations in Mechanics, Astronomy, and Optics, which have placed his name in the foremost rank of the benefactors of mankind. He sat in more than one Parliament as member for his university ; but he appears to have been of too reserved and retiring a character to take an active part in political discussion. He was appointed Warden of the Mint in 1695, and promptly abandoned those researches in which he stands almost alone among mankind, devoting all his energy and attention to the public duties that had been committed to his charge. In 1703 he was made president of the Royal Society, and knighted two years afterwards by Queen Anne. He died in 1727. His character, whose only defect seems to have been a some- what cold and suspicious temper, was the type of those virtues which should distinguish the scholar, the philosopher, and the patriot. His modesty was as great as his genius ; and he invaria- bly ascribed the attainment of his discoveries to patient attention rather than to any unusual capacity of intellect. His English writings are chiefly discourses upon the prophecies and chronology :>f the Scriptures. They are composed in a manly, plain, and un- affected style, breathe an earnest spirit of piety, and indicate that his opinions inclined towards the Unitarian theology. His glory, * This society originated in the meeting of a few learned men at each other's houses. It was incorporated in 1662, by Charles EL 208 ROBERT DOYLE, THOMAS BURNET. however, rests upon his purely scientific works, the Phihsophia Naturalis Principia Mathematical; and the invaluable treatise on Optica, of which latter science he may be said to have first laid the foundation (169). Robert Boyle (1627-1691). " No Englishman of "the seventeenth century, after Lord Bacon, raised himself to so high a reputation in experimental philosophy as Robert Boyle ; it has even been re- marked that he was born in the year of Bacon's death, as the person destined by Nature to succeed him His works occupy six large volumes in quarto. They may be divided into theological or metaphysical, and physical or experimental. The metaphysical treatises of Boyle, or rather those concerning Natural Theology, are very perspicuous, very free from system, and such as bespeak an independent lover of truth." His discussions of physics contain views that were new then, but now are commonly held ; he discovered the law concerning the elasticity of the air, and was the first to note that the science of chemistry pertains to the atomic constituents of bodies (166). Thomas Burnet (1635-1715), Master of the Charter-house, was one of the most extraordinary writers of this period. He was author of the eloquent and poetic declamation, The Sacred Theory of the Earth, a work written in both Latin and English, and giving an hypothetical account of the causes which produced the various irregularities and undulations in the Earth's surface. His geo- logical and physical theories are fantastic in the extreme; but his pictures of the devastation caused by the unbridled powers of Nature are grand and magnificent, and give him a claim to be placed among the most eloquent and poetical of p»ose- writers of the seventeenth century. This writer must not be confounded with Gilbert Burnet (1643-1715), a Scotchman, who was one of the most active poli- ticians and divines during the latter part of the seventeenth century (168)- He held a middle place between the extreme Episcopal and Presbyterian parties; and although a own of ardent ami busy character, he was tolerant and candid. He was celebrated for his talents as an extempore preacher, and was the author of a very large number of theological and political writings. Among these GILBERT BURNET. 209 his History of the Reformation is still considered one of the most valuable accounts of that important revolution. He also gave an account of the life and death of the witty and infamous Rochester, whose last moments he attended as a religious adviser, and whom his pious arguments recalled to repentance. He at one time enjoyed the favor of Charles II., but soon forfeited it, by the bold- ness of his remonstrances against the profligacy of the King, and by his defence of Lord William Russell. Burnet also published an Exposition of the XXXIX Articles. On falling into disgrace at Court he traveled on the Continent, and afterwards attached him- self closely to the service of William of Orange at the Hague. At the Revolution, Burnet accompanied the Deliverer on his expedition to England, took a very active part in controversy and political negotiation, and was raised to the Bishopric of Salisbury. In this office he gave a noble example of the zeal, tolerance, and humanity which should be the chief virtues of a Christian pastor. He died in 1715, leaving the MS. of his most important work, the History of My Own Times, which he directed to be published after the lapse of six years. This work is not inferior in value to Clarendon's, which represents the events of English history from a nearly oppo- site point of view. Burnet is minute, familiar, and gossipy, but lively and generally trustworthy. No one who desires to make acquaintance with a very critical and agitated period of *English history can dispense with the materials he has accumulated. In this chapter we have considered: — The Philosophers and Theologians of Locke's Time* 1. John Locke, — His Relation to Shaftesbury, — His Contribution to English Thought. 2. Isaac Barroiv,—His Pulpit Eloquence. 3. John Tillotson, Robert South. 4. The Progress of Physical Science. 5. Sir Isaac Neivfon, Robert Boyle, Thomas Bur* net, Gilbert Burnet. THE SO-CALLED METAPHYSI- CAL POETS. RELIGIOUS WRITERS OF THE CIVIL WAR AND THE COM- MONWEALTH. r John Donne, Edmund Waller, Abraham Cowley, Sir William Davenant, Sir John Denham, George Wither, Francis Quarles, George Herbert, Richard Crashaw. William Chilling wobtf. Sir Thomas Browne, Thomas Fuller, Jeremy Taylor. — I o o g JOHN MILTON. & THE LITERATURE OF THE RESTORATION. Samuel Butler, John Bunyan, Izaak Walton, John Evelyn, Samuel Pepys, Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendot. . Thomas Hobbes. JOHN DRYDEN. THE CORRUPT DRAMA. William Wycherley, William Congreve, Sir John Yanbrogh, George Farquhab, [Jeremy Collier], Nathaniel Lee, Nicholas Rows. THE PHILOSOPHERS AND THEOLOGIANS OF LOCKE'S TIME. John Locke, [|AAC Harrow, John Tillotsok, Robert South, Sii; U \ \. NkWTON, Robert Boyle, TlloM \s I'.IUNKT, Gilbert Burnet. CHAPTER XVHI. THE ARTIFICIAL POETS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. THE Augustan Age was the name given to the epoch of literature immediately succeeding the time of Dryden. It is generally spoken of as bounded by the reign of Queen Anne ; but the best fruit of the writers of her reign ripened in the reign of George I. The vigor, harmony, and care- less yet majestic regularity found in the powerful writers of the school of the Kestoration were given a yet higher polish by the elegant writers of the first third of the eighteenth century. Three men — Pope, Swift, and Addi- son — stand in the front rank ; and these three men, who make their generation famous in the history of English literature, were great as satirists. They expressed the criti- cal spirit of the age. One of them was a poet; but his song, instead of breathing such love of nature or of man as other songs have, was filled with hatred and contempt ; another was an eminent clergyman, but his zeal spent itself in violating rather than in teaching the gentle precepts of the gospel ; the third, a man distinguished in the service of the state, was so genial, so gentle, so mirthful, that though he poked his fun at all sorts of English follies, he did it with such winning words and with such charming grace that satire lost 'its severity and was redeemed from its meanness. 212 pop I-:. ALEXANDER POPE. " He was about four feet six inches high, very humpbacked and deformed. H« wore a black coat, and, according to the fashion of that time, had on a little sword. He had a large and very fine eye, and a long, handsome nose ; his mouth had those peculiar marks which are always found in the mouths of crooked persons, and the muscles which run across the cheek were bo strongly marked that they seemed like small cords."— Sir Joshua Reynolds. " King Alexander had great merit as a writer, and his title to the kingdom of wit was better founded than his enemies have pretended."— Henry Melding. •'If Pope must yield to other poets in point of fertility of fancy, yet in point of propriety, closeness, 'and elegance of diction he can yield to none." — Joseph Warton. "No poet's verse ever mounted higher than that wonderful flight with which the Dunciad concludes. In these astonishing lines Pope reaches, I think, to the very greatest height which his sublime art has attained, and shows himself the equal of all poets of all times."— W. M. Thackeray. " At fifteen years of age I got acquainted with Mr. Walsh. He encouraged me much, and used to tell me that there was one way left of excelling ; for though we have several great poets, we never had any one great poet that was correct."— Alexander Pope. "Pope's rhymes too often supply the defect of hi« reasons." -Richard Whately. " There are no pictures of nature or of simple emotion in all his writings. He is the poet of town life and of high life and of literary life, and seems so much afraid of incurring ridicule by the display of feeling or unregulated fancy that it is not difficult to believe that he would have thought such ridicule well directed."— Francis Jeffrey. " The most striking characteristics of his poetry are lucid arrangement of matter, doaeneeeof argument, marvellous condensation of thought and expression, bril- liancy of fancy ever supplying the aptcst illustrations, and language elaborately finished almost beyond example."— Alexander Dyce. •'As truly as Shakespeare is the poet of man as God made him, deal in g with great passions and innate motives, so truly is Popo the poet of society, the delineator of manners, the exposer of those motives which may be called acquired, whose spring is in institutions and habits of purely worldly origin."—,/. Ti. Lowell. Alexander Pope (1688-1744) stands far above alt other poets of his time. Be was bom in London and was of a Oatholic family. His lather was a merchant who had ac- quired i-uihcicnl pr o p e rty to n't ire from business and to enjoy the leisure of his rural home near Windsor. The boy was dwarfish in body, and so deformed that his life was pope. 213 ". that long disease." His mind was precocious. Before he was twelve years old, he had written an Ode to Solitude, displaying a thoughtfulness far beyond his years. In re- ferring to his early literary attempts he says, " As yet a child, and all unknown to fame, I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came." During his childhood he indulged that taste for study and poetical reading which 'became the passion of his life. He had special admiration for Dryden, and once obtained a glance at the revered poet seated in his easy chair at Will's Coffee House. At sixteen he composed his Pastqrals and translated portions of Statius. From this time his activity was unremitting ; and an uninterrupted succession of works, varied in their subjects and exquisite in their finish, placed him at the head of the poets of his age. He was a man most peculiar in his appearance ; so little that a high chair was needed for him at the table*, so weak and sickly that he could not stand unless tied up in band- ages", so sensitive to the cold that he was wrapped in flannels and furs, and had his feet encased in three pairs of stockings. He was in constant need of the attentions of a body-servant; he could not dress or undress himself. His deformity gave him the nickname of "The Interrogation Point." But this unfortunate man had a fine face and a glowing eye. In his dress he was fastidious, appearing in a court suit, decorated with a little sword. His manners, too, were elegant. Whether patient or impatient about it, he had to bear the constant reminder of his physical infirmities as he looked upon the stately figures of men who were his com- panions and his literary rivals. Rollicking Dick Steele waa large and strong, Addison had the fatness ascribed to good- nature, Swift was compelled to exercise most vigorously in keeping down his flesh, Gay and Thomson were hale ; these jolly men could spend their nights in choice revelries, laugh- 214 POPE. ing over the best of wit and humor, but "poor Pope" had no stomach, he must be quiet and thin and sick. Pope's culture was not gained in the school-room. He was permitted to roam over the fields of learning wherever his fancy might lead him. The songs of stately writers had most charm for him, and so he studied Spenser, Waller and Dryden. They were men who believed that poetry con- sisted in elegant expression, rather than in the thought; they had detected and disclosed the arts of poetry. They had gained more success than others in the very walk where Pope must journey, if he would listen to the call of his muse, and he was true to the bent of his nature in seeking culture from them. Pope's father was a merchant, who had taste for literature as well as pride in the precocity of his son. He fondly watched the spark of genius in his boy, and gently fanned it into flame by assigning the subjects for his song, and by praising or censuring when the little poet had done his singing. The Influence of His Intimate Friends. On account of his helplessness throughout his life, Pope, like a child, was specially subject to the influence of those who petted him. His mother, though ignorant, simple-hearted, and ruled by her doting love, influenced him in all things, even in his literary work. Until her death the poet was her child, her "deare." She could tell him more confidingly than another could, how wonderful he was. As he was more sensitive to ridicule than any other man ever was, he was aTso fonder of praise. He had a sickly craving for admiration ; and that doting mother, by satisfying his craving, helped him. She nursed the self-appreciation which cheered him in his work. Swift, too, gave him the praise he asked. The Dean of Dublin had but to say, " When you think of the world, give it one more lash at my request," and he could inspire the poet. The Dunciad is more defiant, sharper, more cruel than pope. 215 it could have been had Pope not found an applauding brother in Swift, a man who hated and detested everything and everybody except the few whom he loved. The wit, the eloquence, the elegance, the literary taste and the politi- cal sentiments of Bolingbroke made him the object of Pope's admiration. Bolingbroke's dazzling life blinded Pope to his faults. An intimate friendship between them brought the poet under powerful and pernicious influences. To have one's distinguishing weakness nourished as Pope's was by liis mother, to be loved by the sturdiest, heartiest and most terrible of haters, and to receive the patronage and praises of the most dashing, the most attractive and the most worthless public man of the time, was enough to deform even a poet's soul. Great Influence of His Age. Before considering Pope's literary work, we must remind ourselves of the peculiar influence exerted upon him by his age. Much that has been charged upon him belongs to the time in which he wrote. Was he narrow ? was he shallow ? was he conceited? The age was so. All of its writers caught its spirit, though it may be that Pope is its most striking representative. There was conceit in the air. It was the special weakness of Englishmen throughout the eighteenth century, and especially in the earlier part of it, to be satisfied with their work. The security of the government seemed to be estab- lished, wealth was accumulating, the influence of the nation abroad was increasing, and the moral tone of the literature was improving. Indeed, there was a peculiar complacency towards the literature ; and there was reason in this com- placency, for the age was the first one using the press to an extent that made it a far-reaching power among the people. Under these influences, political, social, and literary, the national conceit was stimulated. There was a conviction that the age had better sense than any one of its predeces- 216 pope. sors. In his essay on Dryden and Tope, Hazlitt calls atten- tion to the expression of this sentiment in the poetry of the time, and shows that Pope was subject to its influence. Even the rhyming of his verse was unconsciously affected by the watch- word, ff sense." * The Essay on Criticism (170), published in 1711, was the first poem that fixed Pope's reputation and gave him a fore- taste of the popularity which he was to enjoy during the remainder of his life. It was a remarkable production for a man of twenty years ; yet much of the praise given to it is extravagant. It has no claim to originality. It is merely a collating of the principles of criticism stated by Horace, by Shakespeare and by other poets and critics. Still in the * " As a proof of the exclusive attention which it occupied in their minds, it is re- markable that in the Essay on Criticism, (not a very long poem) there are no less than half a score of successive couplets rhyming to the word sense. This appears almost incredible without giving the instances, and no less so when they are given." 41 But of the two, less dangerous is the offence To tire our patience than mislead our sense." (Lines 8, 4.) 44 In search of wit these lose their common sense, And then turn critics in their own defence." (Lines 28, 29.) " Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, And fills up all the mighty void of sense." (Lines 209-10.) M Some by old words to fame have made pretence, Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense." (Lines 824-5.) 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence, The sound must seem an echo to the sense." (Lines 864-5 ) 4 At every trifle scorn to take offence ; That always shows great pride or little sense." (Lines 886-7.) ' 4 Be silent always, when you doubt your sense. And speak, though sure, with seeming diftidouce." (Lines 666-7.) 14 Be niggards of advice on no pred-nce. For th • worst avarice is ih;it of sense." (Lines 578-9.) 14 Strain onl the last dull dropping! of their sense. And rhyme with all the rag! of impotence." (Lines 008-9.) 4 Horace still charms with graceful negligence And without method talks M into sense." ^Liues G53 4 ) POPE. 217 poem there are sparkling beauties, and there is music in its cadence answering to the severe demands of poetic art. It is dainty, but not insipid; it has fervor, without any sacri- fice of dignity ; though lacking originality, it is not lacking in excellence of judgment. Pope's general aim seems to have been to produce faultless verse ; but in this poem his aim was not certain. Many an unfriendly critic has called attention to his faulty rhymes. Indeed, he gave himself license to do what he would have ridiculed in another. But whatever its defects may be, the Essay on Criticism has the excellence of concise and vigorous expression to such a degree that it has supplied our current literature with quotations in larger numbers than any other poem of equal length not written by Shakespeare or Milton. The Rape of the Lock. A man of over-nice taste exhausts himself and wearies his readers by discussing profound themes. Had Pope confined his thoughts to the philoso- phy of criticism, or to the study of man, his charming poetical talent would have been undiscovered. The lighter argument, the fanciful narrative, the raillery of the draw- ing-room, display his sparkling talents. The Kape of the Lock (172), sketched in his early literary life, is the most sparkling of his works, a masterpiece, equally felicitous in its plan and in its execution. Addison pronounced it "a delicious little thing," and later critics agree in thinking that it is superior to any other mock-heroic composition. Lord Petre, a man of fashion at the court of Queen Anne, had cut a lock of hair from the head of Arabella Fermor. a beautiful young maid of honor, and by the act had given such offence that a quarrel had ensued between the two families. Pope's poem was an attempt to laugh the quar- relers into good nature. In this he was not successful, but he wrote with such grace and pleasantry that his fame was heightened. Addison was so delighted by the first sketch of 10 218 Pope. the poem that he strongly advised Pope to refrain from attempting any amendment ; but Pope, fortunately for hia glory, added supernatural characters to the story, with ex- quisite skill adapting sylphs and gnomes to the frivolous persons and events of the poem. His Eclogues. In 1713 he published his pastoral eclogues entitled Windsor Forest. Their beauty of versification and neatness of diction do all they can to compensate for the absence of that deep feeling for Nature which the poetry of the eighteenth century did not possess. The plan of this work is principally borrowed from Denham's Coo/xr's Hill. In 1715 Pope published modernized versions of Chaucer, as if he were desirous in all things to imitate his master Dryden. His Translation of Homer. At this time, too, Pope under- took the laborious enterprise of translating into English verse the Iliad and the Odyssey. He was disheartened when brought face to face with the vastness of his under- taking ; but with practice came facility, and the whole of the Iliad was successfully given to the world by the \ear 1720. The work was published by subscription, and brought about seven thousand pounds to Pope. That money laid the foundation of the competence which he enjoyed with good sense and moderation. The Odyssey did not appear till five years later ; and of this he himself trans- lated only twelve of the twenty-four books, employing for the remaining half the assistance of contemporary poets. Mechanically this translation is not unfaithful ; but in re- producing the spirit of the original, the ballad-like \ of Chapman is far superior. Bentley's criticism is, after all, the best and most comprehensive that has yet been made on this work: "It is a pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but add must not call it Homer." It seems unfortunate that D:v pope. 21a den and Pope had not exchanged parts in their selection of the two ancient epic writers as subjects of translation. Dryden, though perhaps incapable of reproducing the wonderful freshness and grandeur of Homer, still possessed more of the Homeric quality of fire and animation ; while Pope, in whom grace and finish are the prevailing merits, would have far more successfully reproduced the dignity, the chastened majesty, of Virgil. In Dryden, a careless, self-assured dexterity is perceptible, not accompanied by much passion, nor by much depth of sentiment, but impos- ing from its conscious ease; in Pope, we find keener thought, more refined acuteness, and neatness of expression. Both are deficient in appreciation of external nature and of simple humanity. Other compositions of Pope belonging to his early life, are the Elegy on an Unfortunate Lady, the Epistle from Sappho to Phaon, borrowed from the Heroides of Ovid, and the Epistle of Eloisa to Abelard. During this part of his life Pope was living with his father and mother at Chis- wick; but on the death of his father, he removed with his mother to a villa he had purchased at Twickenham, at a most beautiful spot on the banks of the Thames. There he passed the remainder of his life, in easy, if not in opulent circumstances ; his taste for gardening, and his grotto and quincunxes, in which he delighted, amused his leisure. He lived in familiar intercourse with illustrious statesmen, orators, and men of letters of his day, — with Swift, Atter- bury, Bolingbroke, Prior, Gay, and Arbuthnot. In 1725 he published an edition of Shakespeare, in six volumes. This work was severely and justly criticised by Theobald in his Shakespeare Restored, an offence deeply resented by the sensitive poet We shall see by-and-by how savagely he revenged himself. During the three years following he was engaged with Swift, Arbuthnot, Gay, and others, in com- 220 POPE. posing that famous collection of Miscellanies to which each of the friends contributed. The aim of the fellow-laborers was to satirize the abuses of learning and the extra vagauces of philosophy. It was entitled Memoirs of Martinus v lerus. Pope's admirable satiric genius, however, seems to have deserted him instantly when he abandoned verse for prose. With the exception of Arbuthnot's burlesque History of John Bull, these Miscellanies are hardly worthy the fame of their authors. The Dunciad. Pope's brilliant success, his popularity, the tinge of vanity and malignity in his disposition, and above all, the supercilious tone in which he speaks of other authors, raised around him a swarm of enemies, animated alike by envy and revenge. Determining, therefore, to in- flict upon these gnats and mosquitoes of the press a memo- rable castigation, he composed the satire of the Dunciad, the primary idea of which may have been suggested by Dry den's MacFlecknoe. It is incomparably the fiercest, most sweep- ing, and most powerful satire that exists in the whole range of English literature. In it he flays and dismembers and boils and roasts the scribblers whom he attacks. Most oi them are so obscure that their names are now rescued from oblivion by being embalmed in Pope's satire, like rubbish preserved in the lava of a volcano ; but in the latter part of the poem, and particularly in the portion added in the editions of 1742 and 1743, the poet has given a sketeh of the gn dual decline and corruption of taste and learning in Europe. The plot of the poem — the Iliad of the Dunces- is not very ingenious. Pope supposes that the throne of Dulness is left vacant by the death of Shad well, and that the various aspirants to " that bad eminence " engage in a series of trials, like the Olympic Games of old, to determine who shall inherit it. In the original form of the poem, as it appeared in 1728 and 17^9, the palm of pedantry and POPR.. 221 stupidity was given to Theobald, Pope's successful rival in editing Shakespeare. In the new edition of 1743, published just before the poet's death, Theobald was degraded from the throne, and the crown was given to the Poet Laureate, Colley Cibber, an actor, manager, and dramatic author of the time, who, whatever were his vices, certainly was in no sense an appropriate King of the Dunces. In this, as in many other instances, Pope's bitterness of enmity ran away with his judgment. The poem is an admirable — almost a fearful — example of genius applied to selfish ends. In the four years extending from 1731 to 1735J Pope was engaged in the composition of his Epistles, addressed to Burlington, Cobham, Arbuthnot, Bathurst, and other dis- tinguished men. These poems, half satirical and half familiar, were in their manner a reproduction of the charm- ing epistles of Horace. The Essay on Man, written in this period of his literary work, was published in four epistles addressed to Boling- broke. The arguments of the poem are not convincing, nor are the conclusions just. It furnishes an illustration of the incompatibility between poetry and abstract reason- ing; for close reasoning is generally found to injure the effect of verse, and the ornament of verse as generally detracts from the vigor of argument. The first epistle treats of man in his relation to the universe, the second in his relation to himself, the third in his relation to society, and the fourth deals with his ideas of happiness. Through- out the poem the neatness and conciseness of the language, the melody of the verse, and the beauty and fidelity of the illustrations prove that if the poet has not produced a per- fect, model of didactic poetry, it is simply for the reason that such an object is beyond the attainment of man (171). Imitations of Horace, in which he adapted the topics of the Roman satirist to the persons and vices of his own day, were Pope's latest works. 222 pope. On the 30th of May, 1744, this poet died. The last years of his life were very gloomy, for his health was feeble, and he was without the genial companionships in which he had found delight. Swift was sunk in idiocy. Atterbury and Gay were dead, and his mother too was gone. Pope's Quarrel with Addison. Pope's quarrel with Addi- son has been explained in various ways, but a knowledge of their characters and a plain statement of a few facts are enough to show how impossible it was that the man of grand self-respect and the man of intense self-esteem should retain each other's confidence. When the young poet began his literary career, he paid deference to the name of the great Oxford scholar, sought his friendship, and won his favor. Whether Addison was jealous of Pope's increasing fame may be questioned, but it is certain that Pope was resentful to- wards Addison for his too frank criticisms of the Essay on Criticism and The Rape of the Lock. Their open unfriend- liness was probably caused by Pope's spiteful assault on old John Dennis for his * Kemarks on the Tragedy of Cato." Addison was suspected of making this assault, and in relieving himself of the suspicion, he quietly said that, had he answered the remarks, he would have done it as a gentle- man should. Pope never forgave this rebuke. It was too severe to be forgotten. The attempts of friends, and even their own interchange of literary compliments, did not restore friendly relations. It was a most dignified quarrel on the part of Pope, when compared with the bitterness of his quarrels with others. The victims of \ he Dunciad, and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, knew the cruelty of "The Wicked Wasp of Twickenham." Pope was a Rtrange mixture of selfishness and generosity, malignity and toler- ance; he was fond of indirect and cunning courses : and his literary ambition showed itself sometimes in meannesses and jealousies. pope. 223 Two Classes of Poets. Concerning his merits as a poet, the critics have had many and spirited encounters. They began to quarrel in Pope's day, and though they are not now as excited as they were then, they are quite as arrogant. This irrepressible conflict of opinion is due to the fact that there are two divisions of poetry, and two races of poets. There is the poetry that is natural, and the poetry that is artificial; the poetry that is spontaneous, bursting into blaze, giving fire and energy to the language which ex- presses the intense feeling of the poet, and the verse in which the emotions flicker and must be patiently fanned into flame. There is poetry having the power and dignity of passion, and poetry having the power and dignity of elegance. There are among the poets those who please by accuracy of details and those who charm by the massive grandeur of their thoughts. What end does poetry serve? Jeffrey, the keenest of critics, Wordsworth and Coleridge, patient thinkers in the philosophy of poetry, teach that the end of poetry is to give pleasure, Their definitions turn against them when they propose to strike Pope's name from the list of poets. If there be two general divisions of taste among people of literary culture, there must be two general classes of poets. The array of critics who have praised Pope's verse, proves that no mean place can be assigned him among our poets. He must be ranked first among those whose power of pleas- ing is found in their conformity to the laws of rhythm, in the studied music of their song. He must not be named with Chaucer, Shakespeare and Milton, for he has not sublime thoughts, he has not broad and profound sympa- thies. Nature does not inspire him. Art in life and in literature commanded his highest esteem, and, therefore, he struck the chords that would please the elegant rather than the earnest. " He was the poet-laureate of polite life." Pope's influence upon the poetry of his own and the sue- 224 JOHK GAY. ceeding generatioa was pernicious. A throng of writers, in striving to imitate him, produced verse so thoroughly arti- ficial that it was soulless and contemptible. The only thing about it to remind one of poetry was its form. They were satisfied with rhythm. They did not try to express thought. They forgot the spirit of poetry in their devotion to its mechanical properties.* John Gay (1688-1732) was one of those easy, amiable, good- natured men whose talents excite admiration without jealousy, while their characters are the object of fondness rather than respect Pope describes him as " Of manners gentle, of affections mild, In wit a man, simplicity a child." He was apprenticed to a tradesman, but believing that he had poetical talent, he exchanged his calling for a thriftless literary career. He had the good fortune to secure the patronage of the Duchess of Monmouth, and in her household he lived, " lapped in cotton, and had his plate of chicken, and his*saucer of cream, and frisked, and barked, and wheezed, and grew fat, and so ended." f The Shepherds Week, in Six Pastoral*, written to ridicule the pas- torals of Ambrose Phillips, was full of humor and of rural descrip- tion. His next publication, Trivia, or the Art of Walking in the Streets of London, is interesting not only for its easy humor, but also for the curious details it gives of the scenery, costume and manners of the street at that time. Keen political allusions contributed to the popularity of Gay's dramatic pieces. His most successful venture in that line was The Beggars' 1 Opera, the pioneer of English operatic works. His Fables (178), written in easy verse and abounding in good humor, still retain favor in collections of poetry for the young. His songs and ballads are musical, touching, and playful. * The student is referred to the following interesting discussions of Pope and hi* poetry. yotuwon'f T/ircs of thn Poets.— DeQuincey's Biographical Essays, K.-od's Lec- tures on the British Poets. Loci. IX. -Thackeray's English Humorists,— Tmtoe'i En glish Literature— llazhtVa Lectures on the English Posts,— Elwin's Life of Pope, - Lowell 1 ! .Vy study Window. t Thackeray. PRIOR, YOUNG. 225 Matthew Prior (1664-1721) was a poet and diplomatist who played a prominent part on the stage of politics as well as on that of literature (177)- He took part with Charles Montagu in the composition of the Country Mouse and City Mouse ; a poem intended to ridicule Dryden's Hind and Panther ; and as the sentiments of the satire were approved by the government, the door of public employment was soon opened to him. Though he had entered pub- lic life as a partisan of the Whigs, he deserted them for the Tories, on the occasion of the impeachment of Lord Somers. In 1715 he was ordered into custody by the Whigs, on a charge of high trea son, and remained two years in confinement. But for his college fellowship, which he prudently retained throughout the period of his prosperity, he would have been reduced to poverty. His longer and more ambitious poems are Alma, a metaphysical dis- cussion carried on in Hudibrastic verse, exhibiting a good deal of thought and learning disguised under an easy conversational garb, and the religious epic entitled Solomon, a poem somewhat in the same manner, and with the same defects, as the Davideis of Cowley. The ballad Henry and Emma, he founded on the ballad of The Nuibrowne Maid, but his work has not the charming simplicity of the old poem. His claim to poetic fame rests mainly upon his easy, animated love -songs. Edward Young (1681-1765) began his career by the unsuccess- ful pursuit of fortune in the public service. He obtained his first literary reputation by a satire entitled the Love of Fame, the Universal Passion. When nearly fifty years of age, he abandoned his hopes of political preferment, and, entering the service of the church, was made chaplain to George II. His place in the history of English literature is due to his poem The Night Thoughts (180). This work, consisting of nine nights of meditations, is in blank verse, and is made up of reflections on Life, Death, Immortality, - the most solemn subjects that can engage the attention of the Christian and the philosopher. The general tone of the work is sombre and gloomy, perhaps in some degree affectedly so. There are other faults. No connection exists among the nine parts ; the expression is unnatural ; there is lack of simplicity. " Short, vivid, and broken gleams of genius " are frequently seen. The march of his verse is generally majestic, 226 ALLAK RAMSAY. though it has little of the melody of Milton. The epigrammatic nature of some of his most striking images is attested by the large number of expressions which have passed from his writings into the colloquial language of society ; such as " procrastination is the thief of time," " all men think all men mortal but them- selves." The poetry of the Scottish Lowlands found an admirable representative at this time in Allan Ramsay (1686-1758), who was born in humble life, was first a wigmaker, and afterwards a bookseller in Edinburgh. He was of a happy, jovial, and con- tented humor, and rendered great services to the literature of his country by reviving the taste for the old Scottish poets, and by editing and imitating the songs and ballads current among the people. He was also the author of an original pastoral poem, The Gentle ShepJierd, which grew out of two eclogues he had written, descriptive of the rural life and scenery of Scotland. The com- plete work consists of a series of dialogues in verse, written in the melodious and picturesque dialect of the country, and woven into a simple but interesting love-story. In this chapter we have considered :— The Artificial Poets of the Eighteenth Century. 1. Alexander Pope, — a. The Influence of His Friends,— h. Great Influence of His Age,-~ c. The Essay on Criticism,— d. The Rape of the Lock, — e. His Eclogues, — f. His Transla- tion of Homer,— g. The Duuci moderns a general superiority OTtr the writers of antiquity. A reply to their argument* WU published by Sir William Temple in MB, la his Fssay on A ndent ami Mo-i'Tit Learninr/, written in Qlnginl li»)|1p. but containing much puerile matter, and exhibiting great credulity. Not content with pointing out the undoubted merils of (he :iea( writers of antiquity, he undervalued the labors and discoveries of the moderns, and pteaid over Shakespeare, Milton, and Newton without even mentioning their names. Among other arguments for the decay of swift. 239 became a champion of the Boyle faction, and in this work gave a foretaste of those tremendous powers of sarcasm which made him the most formidable pamphleteer that ever lived. The merits of the case he does not attempt to touch ; but with grotesque invention, and with unscrupulous use of everything coarse and ludicrous in language, he strives to cover his opponents with contempt. Swift's Political Pamphlets. In 1705 Swift was employed to negotiate with the English government in reference to the claims of the Irish clergy. He visited England on this mis- sion, and though unsuccessful, displayed great activity and shrewdness. He had by this time maple himself conspicu- ous both in his profession and in politics; he was known and feared as a powerful and unscrupulous pamphleteer, and was the familiar associate of those who were at the head of affairs. His advocacy of Whig principles, never very hearty, came to an end in 1710. He had long regarded Ireland with detes- tation, and was eager for a promotion that would enable him to reside in England, near the focus of literary and political activity. But his hopes of preferment were not fulfilled, and, when his patience was exhausted, he aban- doned his party, and began to intrigue and to satirize on the side of the Tories. In this same year, Harley and Pope's friend, St. John, reached the head of affairs. Swift was received by them with open arms. He was caressed and humor, wit, and learning, Temple maintained " that the oldest hooks extant were still the best in their kind ; '' and in proof of this assertion cited the Fables of yEsop and the Epistles of Phalaris. This led to a publication of a new edition of the Epistles of Phalanx by the scholars of Christ Church, Oxford (1695). The nominal editor was Charles Boyle, who, in his Preface, inserted a litter reflection upon Richard Bentley (1682-1742), the King's Librarian, on account of the refusal of the latter to grant the loan of a MS. in the King's Library. Bentley soon had an opportunity for retaliation. He proved that the author of the Epistles of Phalaris was not the Sicilian tyrant, but some sophist of a later age. Sir William Temple was incensed at Bentley's Dissertation ; and Swift, who then resided in Temple's house, made his first attack on Bentley in the Battle of the Books, in which he ridiculed the great scholar in the most ludicrous manner. 240 SWIFT. flattered by the great. With unexampled rapidity he poured forth squib after squib and pamphlet after pamphlet, employ- ing all the stores of his fancy and powerful sophistry to defend his party and to blacken and ridicule his antago- nists. The great object of his ambition was an English bishopric, and the ministers would have been willing enough to gratify him ; but his authorship of the Tale of a Tub, and his lampoon on the Duchess of Somerset, proved fatal to him, and he was obliged to content himself with the Deanery of St. Patrick's, Dublin. He entered upon the duties of this office in 1713. This was the most active period of Swift's life. His Public Spirit of the Whigs, his Conduct of the Allies, and his Reflections on the Barrier Treaty, the ablest political pamphlets ever written, not only reconciled the nation to the peace policy of the Tory minis- try, but also kindled a feeling of enthusiasm for the Tory statesmen among the people. Evil days, however, were at hand. Harley and St. John tore asunder their party with their dissensions ; in spite of all Swift's efforts, the troubles became desperate ; and Swift retired to Ireland, where he was received with contempt and execration. During his frequent visits to London, Swift's company had been sought after by men of letters as well as by states- men. With Pope, Gay and Arbuthnot, he formed what was called the Scriblerus Club, a company united by the closest intimacy, where each threw the ideas published in their famous Miscellanies into a common stock. His Residence in Ireland. For twelve years Swift re- mained in Ireland. He was quiet, but thoroughly discon- tented. At last, in 1724, the opportunity came for him to speak his hatred for the English government, and be spoke in such a way as to raise himself from being an object of detestation to a height of popularity such as no other Eng- lish churchman ever attained in Ireland. SWIFT. 241 The condition of Ireland was just then unusually deplor- able; the manufacturing industry and the commerce of the country were paralyzed by the protective statutes of the English Parliament ; the agricultural classes were reduced to the lowest abyss of degradation. Swift boldly proclaimed the misery of the country. His force and bitterness soon drew down the persecution of the ministers. But the high- est point of his Irish popularity was attained by the seven famous Drapier Letters. These letters, signed M. B. Dra- pier, were written by Swift and inserted in a Dublin news- paper. The occasion was the attempt, on the part of the English ministry, to force the circulation of a large sum of copper money in Ireland. The contract for coining this money had been undertaken by William Wood, a Birming- ham speculator. Swift endeavored to persuade the people that it was far below its nominal value ; and he counselled all true patriots not only to refuse to take it, but to refrain from using any English manufactures whatever. The force of his arguments, and the skill with which he wore the mask of a plain, honest tradesman, excited the populace almost •to frenzy. Swift was known to be the real author of the letters, and his defence of the rights of the Irish people made him from that moment the idol of that warm-hearted race. Two years later he visited England for the 1726.] purpose of publishing his famous Gulliver's Travels. The work was received with delight and admiration, and was at once recognized as his greatest gift to literature. But applause could not soothe the griefs that were about to befall him. The death of Stella, one of the few beings whom he ever really loved, happened in 1728; and the loss of many friends further contributed to darken and intensify the gloom of his proud and sombre spirit. He had from an early period suffered occasionally from giddiness, and after Stella's death the attacks were more frequent and more severe. Deafness deprived him of the pleasure of conver- 242 swift. sation. Forebodings of insanity tormented him until they were cruelly verified* In 1741 he passed into a state of idiocy that lasted without interruption till his death in 1745. He is buried in his own cathedral of St. Patrick ; and over his grave is inscribed that terrible epitaph com- posed by himself in which he speaks of resting " ubi sceva indignatio ulterius cor lacerare nequit." But the most impressive monument of this sad life is the hospital foi idiots and incurable madmen, built and endowed in accord ance with the directions of Swift's will. Stella and Vanessa. An account of Swift's career would be imperfect without some mention of the two unhappy women whose love for him was the glory and the misery of their lives. While residing in Temple's family, he became acquainted with Esther Johnson, a beautiful young girl, brought up as a dependent in the house, to whom, while hardly in her teens, Swift gave instruction. The acquaint- ance ripened into the deepest and tenderest passion. On his removal to Ireland, Swift induced Stella — such was the poetical name he gave her — to settle with her friend Mrs. Dingley in that country, where he maintained with both of them that long, curious, and intimate correspondence which has since been published as his Journal to Stella. There is little doubt that Swift intended to marry Stella, and that Stella's life was filled with the hope that she should be his wife. During one of his visits to London, Swift became intimate with the family of a rich merchant named Van- homrigh, whose daughter Hester, to whom he gave the name of Vanessa, he unwittingly inspired with a deep and •**I remember as I and others were taking with Swift an evening walk, about a mile out of Dublin, he stopped short; we passed on ; bat peroeiTing be did not follow us I went back and found him fixed as a statue, and earnestly fttdng up- ward* at a noble tree, which, in its upper branche*,wM mucb withered and Pointing at it, he said, 'I shall be like that tree; I shall die at the top. ,,, — Dp Young. swift. 243 jealous love for him. On the death of her father, Miss Van- homrigh, possessing an independent fortune, retired to a villa in Ireland. There Swift continued his visits without explaining to either of the unhappy ladies the nature of his relations to the other. At last Vanessa, driven almost to madness by suspense and irritation, wrote to Stella to in- quire into the nature of Swift's relations to her. Stella gave the letter to Swift. In rage he carried it to Vanessa, and without a word, but with a terrible countenance, threw it do^n before her. The poor girl died soon after. Swift at this time was probably the husband of Stella. It is believed that they were privately married in the garden of the dean- ery, in 1716. He, however, never recognized her in public as his wile, nor did he ever live in the same house with her, nor did he allow her to meet him unless a third person were present. In reading his words when he was bereaved by her death, one must see that his love for her was real. Gulliver's Travels. A few comments on his writings must close this essay. The greatest and most characteristic ol his prose works is the Voyages of Gulliver (175), a vast and all-embracing satire upon humanity itself. The general plan of this book is as follows: a plain, unaffected, honest ship-surgeon, describes the strange scenes and adventures, through which he passes, with an air of simple, straightfor^ ward, prosaic good faith, such as Defoe displays in RoMnson. Crusoe. The contrast between the extravagance of the inventions and the gravity with which they are related, illustrates the peculiar humor of Swift. This admirable fiction consists of four parts or voyages: in the first Gulliver visits the country of Lilliput, whose inhabitants are about six inches in stature, and where all the objects, houses, tree? ships, and animals, are in exact proportion to the miniature human beings. The invention displayed in the droll and surprising incidents is unbounded ; the air with whioh the} 244 swift. are recounted is natural, and the strange scenes and ad- ventures are recorded with an appearance of simple, straight- forward honesty altogether inimitable. J The second voyage is to Brobdingnag, a country of enormous giants, sixty feet in height ; and here Gulliver plays the same part that the pigmy Lilliputians had played to him. As in the first voyage the contemptible and ludicrous side of human things is presented by showing how trifling they would ap- pear in almost microscopic proportions, so in Brobdingnag we are made to perceive how petty and ridiculous, our politics, our wars, and our ambitions would appear to the perceptions of a gigantic race. The third part carries Gulliver to a series of strange and fantastic countries. The first is Laputa, a flying island, inhabited by philosophers and astronomers; whence he passes to the Academy of Lagado; thence to Glubbdubdrib and Luggnagg. In this part the author introduces the terrific description of the Struldbrugs, wretches who are cursed with bodily immor- tality without intellects or affections. Gulliver's last voyage is to the country of the Houyhnhnms, a region where horses are the reasoning beings; and men, under the name of Ya- hoos, are degraded to the rank of noxious, filthy and unrea- soning brutes. The satire goes on deepening as it advances; playful in the scenes of Lilliput, it grows more and more bitter at every step, till in the Yahoos it reaches a pitch of almost insane ferocity. / Miscellaneous Writings. Swift wrote pamphlets of a partly religious character, such as his Sentiments of a Church of England Man, The Sacramental Test, and others on local ami temporary subjects (176). They all exhibit the vigor of his reasoning, the force of his stylo, and the fierceness of his invective. Neither respect for his own dignity nor respect for ihe candor of others ever restrained him from over- whelming his opponents with ridicule or abuse. The pkafr SWIFT. 245 an test and most innocent of his writings are the papers written in the character of Isaac Bickerstaft'e (174), where he shows up with exquisite drollery, the quackery of the astrologer Partridge. His letters are very numerous; those addressed to his intimate friends, Pope and Gay, and those written to Sheridan, half-friend and half-butt, contain choice specimens of his peculiar humor. Swift's Literary Style. Swift will ever be regarded as one of the masters of English prose, and his poetical works will give him a place among the writers of his age. Yet they have no pretension to loftiness of language ; they studiously preserve the familiar expression of common life. In nearly all of them he adopted the short octosyllable verse that Prior and Gay had rendered popular. The poems, like his prose, show wonderful acquaintance with ordinary inci- dents, intense observation of human nature, and a pro- foundly misanthropic view of mankind. Most likely to remain popular are the Verses on my own Death, describ- ing the mode in which that event, and Swift's own char- acter, would be discussed among his friends, his enemies, and his acquaintances; and there is no composition in the world which gives a more easy and animated picture, at once satirical and true, of the language and sentiments of ordinary society. But his fame rests wholly upon his won- derful prose. Vigor and perspicuity mark every page. There is no sign of pedantry in his style ; every sentence is homely and rugged and strong. "He seems to have hated foreign words as he hated men." His vocabulary is thoroughly Saxon, and the variety of English idioms used in expressing his thought is greater than can be found in any other writer of his age.* * For further readings on this topic see The North American Review, Jan. 1868, — Craik's English Literature, Vol. II., p. 208, seq.,— Macaulay's Essay on Si} William Temple,— Thackeray's English Humorists,— Jeffrey in the British Essayists —Scott's Life of Swift,— Hazlitt's Lectures on The English Poets, Led. VI. 240 ARBUTHNOT, BOLINGBROKE. Dr. John -IrbuthliOt [198ft— HW) was greatly esteemed by the brilliant society of which Pope and Swift were the chief luminaries. lie was of Scottish origin, and enjoyed high reputation as a phy- sician attached to the Court, from 1709 till the death of Queen Anne. He was one of the most learned wits of the day, and was the chief contributor to the Miscellanies spoken of in our discussion of Pope. He is supposed to have conceived the plan of that ex- tensive satire on the abuses of learning, embodied in the Memoirs of Martinus ScriUerus, and to have executed the best portions of that work. But the fame of Arbuthnot is more intimately con- nected with the History of John Bull, in which the intrigues and Wars of the Succession are caricatured with much drollery. The object of the work was to render the prosecution of the war by Marlborough unpopular with the nation. The adventures of Squire South (Austria), Lewis Baboon (France) "Nic. Frog (Holland), and Lord Strutt (the King of Spain), are related with fun, odd humor, and familiar vulgarity of lauguage. The characters of the various nations and parties are conceived and maintained with spirit. The popular ideal of John Bull, with which Englishmen are so fond of identifying their personal and national peculiarities, was first stamped and fixed by Arbuthnot's amusing burlesque. Arbuth- not is always good-natured. He shows no trace of that fierce mis- anthropy which tinged every page of Swift. Of him Swift said, "Oh, if the world had a dozen Arbuthnots I would burn my [Gulliver's] Travels." Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke (1678-1751), remarkable for his career as a statesman and orator, was a prominent member of the brilliant coterie of Pope and Swift. After a stormy public lUe, he amused his declining years by the composition of political, moral, and philosophical essays. While an exile he wrote his Reflection* on Exile, his Letter to Sir William Windham in defence of his political life, his papers On the Study of History, and On the True Use of Retirement. After his death a complete edition of his works was published in five volumes. His disbelief in the divine origin of Christianity is distinctly stated. The language of Boling- broke is lofty and oratorical ; but the thought is often feeble, and the tone of philosophical indifference to matters in which other men are interested seems to be affected. It was to Bolinsrbroke BERKELEY, MONTAGU. 24? that Pope addressed The Essay on Man, and from him the poet derived many of his opinions (189, 190)- George Berkeley (1684-1753) was full of projects for increasing the virtue and happiness of his fellow-creatures. When fifty years of age he was made Bishop of Cloyne in Ireland. This position he continued to hold, obstinately refusing any promotion that would remove him from the people for whom he loved to work. His writings are numerous, embracing a wide field of moral and metaphysical discussion (191)- He is one of the most brilliant, as well as one of the earliest advocates of the Ideal theory ; and therefore appears in contrast with Locke in the history of English philosophy. Locke traced ideas to external nature, teaching that the phenomena observed are the measure of ideas. Berkeley taught that the ideas themselves are the only things man can pronounce real. His first philosophical work was the New Theory of Vision, in which he announces his startling doctrine concerning knowledge of the properties of bodies. This was followed by The Principles of Human Knowledge, and by the Three Dialogues. What he aimed to do in his writings, was to refute the skepticism found in other philosophical works; but in the interpretation of much of his thought he is treated as though he were himself a reckless teacher of error. Mary Wortley Montagu. Although Pope and many distin- guished men of letters in this period assiduously cultivated epistolary composition, none of them could equal Lady Mary Wortley Montagu (1690-1762) in brilliant letter-writing. She was the daughter of the Duke of Kingston, and was celebrated, even from her childhood, for the vivacity of her intellect, her mental acquirements, and the beauty and graces of her person. Her edu- cation had been far more extensive and solid than was then usually given to women. Her acquaintance with history, and even with Latin, was considerable, and her studies had been in some degree directed by Bishop Burnet. In 1712 she married Mr. Edward Wortley Montagu, and accompanied him on his embassy to the court of Constantinople. She described her travels over Europe and the East in those delightful Letters which have given her in English literature a place resembling that of Madame de Sevigne 248 MARY WOBTLEY MONTAGU. in the literature of France (192). Admirable common sense, obser- vation, vivacity, extensive reading without a trace of pedantry, and a pleasant tinge of half-playful sarcasm, are qualities of her corre- spondence. She had seen so much, and bad been brought into contact with so many remarkable persons, in a way that gave her such means of judging of them, that she is always sensible and amusing. The successful introduction of inoculation for the small- pox is mainly to be attributed to her intelligence and courage. She not only had the daring to try the experiment upon her own child, but with admirable constancy she resisted the furious opposi- tion of bigotry and ignorance against the innovation. She was at one time the intimate friend of Pope, and the object of his most ardent adulation ; but a violent quarrel occurred between them, and the spiteful poet pursued her for a time with an almost furious hatred. She is the Sappho of his satirical works. In this chapter we have considered: — Prose Writers of the first half of the Eighteenth Century, 1, Joseph Addison, — Si, His Early Writings,— b. A short account of Sir Hi chard Steele,— c. The Tatler, — d. Addison's Co-operation with Steele,— e. His Delineations of Charac- ter,-^ His Poetry, —g. The Tragedy of Cato,— h. His Social and Political Career,— i, Thack- eray's Estimate of Him, 2, Jonathan Swift,— n. The Tale of a Tub,—h. Hie Battle of the Boohs, — c. His Pamphlets,— d. His Services to the Tories,— e. His Resi- dence in Ireland,— f, Stella and Vanessa— jr. Gulliver's Travels,— li. His Miscellaneous Writings,— \. Ifis Literary Style, 3, Dr. John Arbuthnot. 4, Henry St. John, J'iscount Bolingbroke, 5, George Berkeley. 6, Lady Mary Wortlcy Montagu. CHAPTEH XX. THE FIRST GREAT NOVELISTS. PROSE FICTION was one of the latest departments of literature cultivated by English authors. It is true that Sidney's Arcadia was a chivalric form of this kind of writing, and Bacon's Atlantis and More's Utopia, written in Latin, were philosophical romances ; but the use of prose narrative in the delineation of passions, char- acters, and incidents of real life was first developed by writers in the eighteenth century, among whom the names of Defoe, Richard- son, Fielding, Smollett, and Sterne, are the most brilliant. The literature of fiction divides itself into two great branches, — romances and novels. In the romance the characters and inci- dents are of a lofty or supernatural character ; in the novel there is a recital of the events of ordinary life. " The romance lacks truth, and that in the worst of all ways, by insensible departures, by exces- sive coloring, by glaring and false lights It is against the romance element, ever likely to appear in historical novels, as it appears in history itself, when it runs like a child after the glitter- ing march and sonorous sounds of war, that most of the moral objections to works of fiction hold."* In the department of the novel, from its first appearance in our literature down to the present- time, English writers have encountered few rivals and no superiors. Daniel Defoe (1661-1731) was the founder of the English novel. He was the son of a London butcher named Foe, and not liking the family name he attached a prefix to suit his taste. He was an ad- vanced reformer, even advocating, as early as 1698, the founding of insurance companies, savings banks for the poor, and colleges for the higher education of women. His interest in politics led him to * Bascom's Philosophy of English Literature, p. 271. 250 DANIEL DEFOE. take up the pen as a pamphleteer, and his radical Protestantism carried him to such extremes that he was frequently subjected to punishment. In spite of fines and imprisonment, he fearlessly pub- lished pamphlet after pamphlet, full of irony, logic, and patriot- ism. In The True-born Englishman, a poem written in tuneless rhymes, he defended William of Orange and the Dutch against the prejudices of his countrymen ; in The /Shortest Way with the Dissenters he gravely proposed as the easiest and speediest way of ridding the land of them, to hang their ministers and banish the people ; * and when the House of Commons pronounced the pam- phlet a libel on the nation, and sentenced him to stand in the pillory, he coolly wrote his Ode to the Pillory, describing it as "A hieroglyphic state-machine Condemned to punish fancy in." During one of his imprisonments he commenced The Review, the prototype of our semi-political, semi-literary periodicals, publish- ing it three times a week. In 1719 the first part of Rolinson Crusoe appeared. Its 1719.] success among the humble readers whom Defoe generally addressed was instantaneous. The simplicity and prob- ability of the events narrated, and the author's skill in identifying himself with the character of his recluse, gave the book an intense interest. The impression it leaves on the memory of every reader is deep and permanent. The hero is without pretensions to extra- ordinary knowledge, and is therefore such a person as every one, ignorant or cultivated, can sympathize with. The more thoughtful the reader, the more does he appreciate Defoe's wonderful art in throwing the air of reality over every part of his fiction.f Among Defoe's other works of fiction, The Memoirs of a Cavalier deserves special mention. The work professes to have been written by one who had taken part in the great Civil War; and so success- fully was the pretence carried out, that it deceived even the great * The Government advertised a reward for his arrest, and gave thi following description of Ids person: "A middle-sized, spare man about, forty years old, of brown complexion and dark brown-coloured hair, bin wears a wig; a hooked nose, ft •harp chin, gnj eyes, and a large mole near his mouth." r " Let us think how a man of weak imagination would have solved the problem : given one man and an island, to make a storv. In Defoe's story, all is life and action. M — Mortey. SAMUEL RICHARDSON. 251 Chatham into citing the volume as an authentic narrative. In A Journal of the Great Plague in London (193), he shows the same marvelous faculty for representing fiction as truth. The imaginary annalist, a respectable London shopkeeper, describes the terrible sights and incidents of that time with a vividness that is appalling Tlie Adventures of Colonel Jack, Moll Flanders, Hoxana, and Captain Singleton, show the same power ol* feigning reality. His True Rela- tion of the Apparition of one Mrs. Veal was one of the boldest experi- ments ever made upon human credulity, and yet so plausibly was the story told that searching inquiries were made concerning the facts alleged. His only object in telling the story was to secure the sale of a dull and unsalable book ; and his purpose was accom- plished, for the whole edition of Drelincourt on Death quitted the bookseller's shelves in consequence of its recommendation by the visitor from another world. Defoe's success in fiction attracted the attention of other writers. The field was inviting ; for the stage was not in favor, the periodi- cal essays were written out, and the popular demand for literary entertainment was increasing. To supply the demand a company of story-tellers put themselves at work. Samuel Richardson (1689-1761) was the pioneer in that branch of fiction which grows out of the incidents of commonplace affairs. His life presents little matter for comment ; its main features belong to the ordinary career of a prudent and successful tradesman. He was bora in Derbyshire, — the son of a poor carpenter. At fifteen years of age he went to London to become a printer's apprentice. The diligence with which he pursued his calling secured him rapid advancement ; he was taken into partnership with his employer, and ultimately became the head of an extensive business. At fifty yeaui of age, he stumbled into a path leading him to literary fame. Letter-writing, in those days, was regarded as an important branch of composition, — a means of literary culture. Richardson had been known from his youth as a fluent letter writer ; and a London firm, wishing to publish a series of model letters as an epistolary manual for the lower classes, applied to him as the suitable person to prepare them. After he had accepted the commission, he con- ceived the happy idea of making the letters tell a connected story. The result of his undertaking was his first novel, Pamela; 252 SAMUEL RICHARD SON. 1740.] or Virtue Rewarded. The heroine is represented as a poor beautiful, and innocent country girl, who enters the service of a rich gentleman. Most of the letters, in which the master's wickedness and the maid's virtue are narrated, are written by Pamela herself. Her minute descriptions of her situation and sur- roundings, her trials and heart-conflicts, and the various events of her anxious life, are tedious to the modern reader. But they pos- sess an air of reality, and often introduce exquisite touches of nature and pathos. The sensation made among readers of the old school of chivalric fable by this ' ; romance of real life " was un- paralleled. It captivated public fancy as Hudibras had done a century before. Fashionable circles made it the theme of their enthusiasm; grave moralists praised its fidelity to nature, and popular preachers applauded the high tone of its morality. Five editions were exhausted in a single year. Richardson suddenly found himself famous ; but his was not a mind to be unsettled by success. He continued to exercise laudable and prosaic industry in his business. He was first Printer of the House of Commons; in 1754 he became Master of the Stationers' Company, and in 17C0 he bought a half-share in the lucrative office of Printer to the King. In the intervals of business, however, writing in the parlor of his back shop, he assiduously labored to develop his new-found re- sources. Clarissa Harlwoe, published in 1748, and Sir Charles Grandison, in 1753, gave fresh evidence of his literary talent, and attained a popularity equal to that of their predecessor. Richard- son's pleasure in his own fame was somewhat alloyed by his over- sensitive temperament. He could not endure with complacency the free and sometimes caustic criticism passed upon his work. For some years before his death he withdrew himself from general society, and passed most of his time in his suburban home at Par- son's Green, London. There he was the centre of a little g^pup of admiring women. His published correspondence and literary remains give a curious picture of the enervating flattery which soothed his timidity and nourished his self-satisfaction. Clarissa Harlowe is Richardson's greatest work. It is the tragic story of a young lady who falls a victim to the treachery and profligacy of a man of splendid talent and attractions, but of infa- mous character. Although Richardson is far more successful in the delineation of women than of men, yet Lovelace is one of the most HENRY FIELDING. 253 perfect and finished portraits that literature has to show. In this, as in Richardson's other novels, the interest is generated by the accumulation of a thousand delicate, almost imperceptible touches, and the characters are elaborated with painful minuteness. It requires an effort to yield the attention to the gentle, equable cur- rent of incident and emotion ; yet after a time its force is found to be irresistible. In his three successive works Richardson portrayed three differ- ent orders in the social scale. Pamela dealt with the low, Clarissa Harlowe with the middle class of society. In Sir Charles Grandison he intended to represent an ideal hero who should combine the graces and accomplishments of the man of fashion with the per- fection of mental and religious culture. Henry Fielding. While Richardson was enjoying the praise of his first volume, Henry Fielding (1707-1754) set himself to work to ridicule Pamela and to rival the modest printer. In character the two men had little in common. Fielding was a gay, rollicking fellow, who laughed at virtue and hated all pretensions to dignity. He had inherited a broken-down estate and extravagant habits. At twenty years of age he found himself dependent upon his own resources, and at once betook himself to the stage, composing many inferior comedies, and writing busily for the journals of the day. His career for some years was a continuous struggle with fortune. He married an excellent lady, and squandered her property ; he specu- lated in the Haymarket Theatre, and failed utterly ; he then tried the law, and was called to the bar, but there too he was unsuccessful. He also took an active part in political controversy, and in numer- ous pamphlets and articles maintained liberal doctrines. It was not until the year 1742 that he struck out that vein of humorous writ- ing in which he had no rival. His first novel, Joseph Andrews, was a powerful caricature of the timid and fastidious morality, the sentimentalism and the somewhat preaching style of Pamela. It at once received the honor due to a great original creation. In rapid succession he produced his Journey from this World to the Next, full of political allusions that have now lost their piquancy, and his remarkable satirical tale, The Life of Jonatlian Wild the Great. In 1749 he had been appointed a police magistrate. While holding this office he composed the finest of his works, the 254 HENRY FIELDING. incomparable Tom Jones (194), a story whose dramatic scenes and characters must have been drawn from the exhibitions of real life in his court. Amelia,, his third great novel, closes the list. Ruined in health by labor and excesses, he sailed for Lisbon in 1754, seeking benefit from a genial climate; but before the close of that year he was buried in the strange land. Fielding was an accurate observer of character. With the vast and motley field of English society, so strongly marked at that time, he was minutely acquainted, and delighted in the reproduction of its oddities and eccentricities. He is intensely English. Hogarth himself is not more so. In the construction of his plots, Fielding was masterly. That of Tom Jones is perhaps the finest example to be met with in fiction, of a series of events probable, yet surprising, each leading to the ultimate catastrophe. He combined an almost childish delight in fun and ludicrous incident, with a philosophic analysis of character. In Tom Jones (194) it is difficult to know what most to admire — the artful conduct of the plot, the immense variety, truth, and humor of the personages, the gayety of the in- cidents, or the many acute remarks. Tom Jones himself and the fair Sophy, though elaborated by the author with peculiar care, as types of all that he thought attractive, are tinged with much coarse- ness and vulgarity ; but the time when Fielding wrote was remark- able for the low tone of manners and sentiment. Sometimes he masks impressive moral reflections under a pleasant air of satire and irony. There is a freshness in his writing not found in Rich- ardson; there is also boisterousness, coarseness of thought, and an evident delight in dealing with the nature of the depraved. The most attractive character in Joseph Andrews is Parson Adams, whose learning, simplicity, and courage, together with his con- sistent oddities, make him a character as humorous as Sanelio Panza himself. In the adventures of Jonathan Wild the Great, the exploits of a consummate scoundrel are related in a tone of ironical admiration ; and the story contains powerful and humorous scenes. The interest of Amelia is entirely domestic. The story wai Intended to portray Fielding's own follies and irregularities, and to pay a tribute to the virtues and fove of his wife. The errors and repentance of Captain Booth, and the inexhaustible love and in- dulgence of the heroine, are strongly contrasted. Fielding had TOBIAS GEORGE SMOLLETT. 255 little power over the pathetic emotions ; there are, however, in this novel several touching episodes and strokes of character exhibiting that peculiar characteristic of truly humorous conceptions, namely, the power of touching the heart while exciting the sense of the ludicrous. Tobias George Smollett. Nearly contemporary with Fielding's aovels, were the first efforts of another distinguished worker in the same field,— Tobias George Smollett (1721-1771) (195). Smollett was of Scotch parentage. His family, though poor, gave him a university education. He undertook to support himself by the profession of medicine ; but his attention was diverted from his studies by an uncontrollable desire for literary fame, and his life was almost as checkered and distressed as that of Defoe. At the age of nineteen he went to London, hoping to secure a publisher for a tragedy entitled The Regicide. Failing in this, he embarked in an expedition to Carthagena in the humble office of surgeon's mate. This gave him an opportunity of studying those grotesque features of sea-life which he afterwards reproduced in his fictions. Quitting the service after he had reached the West Indies, he resided there until he returned to London in 1746. For several years he divided his time between the practice of medicine and the pursuits of lit- erature. He had produced several satires and poems of trifling merit before 1748 ; in that year Roderick Random opened to him a career as a novelist. Three years later it was followed by Peregrine Pickle, and in 1753 The Adventures of Ferdinand, Count Fathom, a counterpart to Fielding's Jonathan Wild, appeared. Previous to this Smollett had become discouraged with his small success as a physician, and had resolved to concentrate his energies in the efforts of his pen. He produced in rapid succession a translation of Don Quixote, a fourth novel entitled Sir Lancelot Greaves, and a History of England, in which he displayed his partisan prejudices. The experiences of two years spent in foreign travel were narrated in a Tour in France and Italy. His last political work was a satiri- cal attack upon Lord Bute, entitled The Adventures of an Atom. At fifty years of age his health was completely broken down by agita- tion and incessant labor, and he was ordered to try the effect of a more genial climate. He resided a short time at Leghorn, and there, in spite of exhaustion and suffering, his genius gave forth its 256 TOBIAS GEOBGE SMOLLETT. most pleasing flash of comic humor. This was the novel of Hum- phrey Clinker, the most genial and humorous of his works. Like Fielding, Smollett died and was buried in a foreign land. The two most intensely national of the great group of English char- acter-painters were doomed to lay their bones, nearly at the same time, under the soil of the stranger, Of Smollett's novels Roderick Random is in some respects the most vigorous. It is full of transcripts from the author's personal experience ; the hero's miseries at school, his apprenticeship to the apothecary, his sufferings on board ship, bear every mark of pic- tures from life. The same may be said of his sailor-characters. As a rule his heroes have but little to attract the reader's sympathy, being generally hard, impudent, and selfish adventurers ; but in the subordinate persons, and especially in those of whimsical but faith- ful dependents, he shows a greater warmth of sentiment. Humphrey Clinker, though running over with fun and grotesque incident, exhibits a riper and mellower tone of character-painting than is to be found in his preceding works. This novel contains much that js merely descriptive ; it purports to be the travelling-journal of the droll and original party whose letters make up the work. The modern reader may gather many interesting details of life in the eighteenth century from Smollett's pictures of the various locali- ties in England and Scotland which were visited in the imaginary tour. The plots of Smollett's novels are not unfolded with the slow and logical coherence of Richardson, nor are the incidents combined and grouped with that masterly knowledge of effect which distinguishes Fielding. Each of his novels is a series of scenes— striking, gro- tesque, farcical, pathetic— with no bond of union save their com- mon connection with two or three chief actors. Yet the lively succession of persons and events is a constant stimulus to the attention. Smollett's characters are numerous and sketched with great animation, but they are not analyzed with a profound knowl- edge of passion and motive. Having seized some prominent feature, or having placed some oddity of mind or person in a strong tight, he ceased to care for development and consistency. Many of his most laughable scenes depend for their effect upon physical humor, —blows and kicks and extravagant terrors; but, unlike Fielding, he fails to make such episodes throw light upon interesting traita LAURENCE STERNE. 257 of human nature. With the laugh they have excited, Smollett's use of them is at an end. He " excels most as the lively carica- turist ; Fielding as the exact painter and profound metaphysician." We have already referred to Smollett's works as a political writer. He also possessed considerable poetical talent. His best effort in this department is entitled the Tears of Scotland. It expresses the patriotic indignation of a generous mind, horror-struck by the cruelties perpetrated by the English troops after the battle of Culloden. Laurence Sterne (1713-1768) was as eccentric as his works. He was born in Ireland, but received his education at the University of Cambridge. He entered the church, and through the influence of his relatives secured a rich living. His private life was little in harmony with his profession ; he appears to have been fanciful, vain, and self-indulgent, perpetually at war with his brother churchmen, and to have masked caprice and selfishness in his domestic relations under a pretence of extreme sensibility. In 1759 he published the first two volumes of a novel entitled Tristram Shandy (196)- The freshness and oddity of his style, and the grotesqueness of his humor, captivated popular taste. Seven volumes more of the same story appeared during the next eight years. Sterne became the lion of fashionable society in London. For a time he indulged his morbid appetite for flattery and his pro- pensity to sentimental intrigue in the brilliant circles of the capital. He then went to the Continent; and during his travels through France and Italy accumulated the materials for his charming Senti- mental Journey. This was his best and last production ; he took up his residence in London for the purpose of superintending its publication, and died in desolate lodgings, in the. fifty-fifth year of his age. Sterne's works consist of the novel of Tristram Shandy, of the Sentimental Journey, and of a collection of Sermons, written in the odd and fantastic style which he brought into temporary vogue. Tristram Shandy, though nominally a romance in the biographical form, is intentionally irregular and capricious. The hero makes no appearance on the scene of action, and the story consists of a series of episodes which introduce the reader to the home-life of an English country family. This family is one of the most amusing 258 I. A I'RENCE sti: B x B. collections of odd individualities that ever genius has delineated. The mythical Tristram, and Yorick, a humorous clergyman in whom Sterne his idealized his ow:: character, alternately carry on the narrative; and other prominent personages are Walter Shandy, a retired merchant, the father of Tristram, his wife, his brother, Toby Shandy, a veteran officer, and his servant, Corporal Trim. Mr. Shandy, the restless, crotchety philosopher, is drawn with consum- mate skill, and is contrasted with the simple benevolence and professional enthusiasm of the unequaled Uncle Toby, a creation of the order of Sancho Panza and Parson Adams. The Sentimental Journey was intended by its author to form a sequel to T/istram Shandy. It has glaring faults, both in taste and in morality ; yd it abounds in charming descriptions and passages of quaint pathos. Acute observation of the minor traits of human nature seems to have been Sterne's strongest quality. He portrays his characters not by description, but by allusion, and fascinates the reader by incidental and unexpected revelations of their amiable eccentrici- ties. He also shows himself a master in combining humor and pathos; although the one sometimes degenerates into buffoonery, and the other into sentimentality. Much may be forgiven the author, in consideration of his candid and appreciative tone in treating of foreigners and foreign institutions. Such a tone was equally rare and laudable, at a time when Englishmen regarded all other nations with the most bigoted prejudice and hostility. In Sterne's writings there is a parade of obscure and quaint erudition. This tends to give an original flavor to his style, and at the time of his writing, when the elder authors were but little studied, it passed for an indication of extensive leamiug; but he is now known to have been the boldest of plajiiansts, pillaging without scruple the pages of Burton, Rabelais, and fbi old lawyers and canonists. tn this chapter we have considered ;— The First Ureal Xor< lists. 1. Daniel Defoe; 2. Samuel liiehardson ; 3. Henry Fielding ; 4. Tobias George Smollett; 5. Lau- rence Sterne* CHAPTER XXL HISTORICAL WRITERS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XN accordance with a law which seems at particular epochs to govern the appearance of great names in one department of art or literature, like the sculptors of the Periclean age, the romantic dramatists in that of Elizabeth, and the English novelists whom we have been discussing in the preceding chapter, the middle of the eighteenth century was signalized by a remarkable wealth of his- torical genius, and gave birth to Hume, Robertson and Gibbon. David Hume (1711-1776), a Scotchman, was educated at the University of Edinburgh. A taste for literature and literary pur- suits early declared itself as his ruling passion, but the limited cir- cumstances of his family seemed to make its gratification impossible. However, after a vain attempt to devote himself to the law, and an equally unsuccessful trial of commercial life, Hume resolved " to make a very rigid frugality supply his deficiency of fortune, and to regard every object as contemptible except the improvement of his talents in literature." At the age of twenty-three he went to France with the intention of pursuing his studies in a country retreat. Three years passed very agreeably in close attention to philosophy and general literature. In 1737 he returned to Great Britain to publish the first-fruits of his pen, A Treatise on Human Nature. " Never," says Hume's autobiography, " was literary at- tempt more unfortunate. But being naturally of a cheerful and sanguine temper, I very soon recovered the blow." The first volume of Moral and Philosophical Essays, published in 1741. met with a more favorable reception ; but the wavering fortunes of the next ten years would have chilled the aspirations of a less resolute soul. True to his resolve, Hume eked out his slender patrimony with genuine Scotch thrift ; it was, however, hardly sufficient foi 260 DAVID HUME. his support, and as yet his receipts from the booksellers were very small. By acting for one year as tutor to an insane nobleman, and for two more as aid-de-camp of a military embassy, he obtained what seemed to his modest desires a competence. He then, in 1752, became Librarian of the Faculty of Advocates in Edinburgh. This position brought him no salary, but placed at his command a large and excellent collection of books. With the aid thus furnished he began his great work, the History of England from the Accession of the Stuarts to the Revolution of 1688 (203). To this he afterwards added the earlier history, from the invasion of Julius Caesar to the reign of James I. The first two volumes were received with the same neglect which had blighted his former publications; and indifference became general odium when the work was found to be an embodiment of high Tory principles. However, the great merits of the plan and the excellence of the style, revealed more and more with each successive volume, gradually overcame 1762.] prejudice. Before the time of its completion, the History had attained great reputation. One edition after another was rapidly bought up ; and common consent named Hume the first of English historians. He now received a call to public ser- vice, and attended Lord Hertford on his embassy to Paris. Al- though he had neither the personal graces nor the conversational talents requisite for shining in the brilliant society of that capital, his literary reputation secured him abundant homage. His auto- biography speaks with evident complacency of the u excessive civilities " he received from " men and women of all ranks and stations." After his return to Scotland, he for two years discharged the duties of Under-Secretary of State. The emoluments of his public offices, added to his income from the publishers, had by this time raised him to comparative affluence. He retired to his native city of Edinburgh, and passed the last years of his life in the tranquil enjoyment of his literary fame, aud in the affection of his personal friends. The History of England is a book of very high value. It has ease and vivacity of narration; and in the analys.'s of character and the appreciation of great events, Hume's philosophic view gives him a right to one of the foremost places among modern historians. But its defects are no less considerable. Hume's indolence induced him to remain contented with taking his facts from preceding writers. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 261 without troubling himself about accuracy, so that he must be read with distrust whenever he discusses questions that demand patient research. As a metaphysical writer Hume deserves a distinguished place in the history of philosophy (204)- He was a skeptic of the most logical and uncompromising type. William Robertson. Naming them in the order of their birth, the second in this group of historians is William Robertson (1721- 1793), the son of a Scotch clergyman. At twenty-two years of age he entered his father's profession, and began his public work in a quiet rural parish. There he remained for fifteen years, acquiring skill as a writer in the composition of his sermons, gaining reputa- tion as a scholarly thinker, and devoting all the time he could spare to the study of history. In 1758 he was promoted to the charge of an important church in Edinburgh, and in the following year he introduced himself to the literary world by the publication of A History of Scotland during the Reigns of Queen Mary and James the Sixth (205)- Three years later he was appointed Principal of the University of Edinburgh, and Royal Historiographer of Scotland. Ten years after the publication of his History of Scotland, his greatest work, The History of the Emperor Charles the Fifth of Germany, was ready for the press. Eight years more were spent in preparing his History of America. Like Hume he is distinguished by the eloquence of his narrative, by the picturesque delineation of characters and events, and by the purity and dignity of his style. In all of his works there is richness and melody of expression, and vivid description ; but there is lack of accuracy in research. Recent investigations made by Prescott and by English writers have dispelled some of the romance of Robertson. " The fault of this great historian was one common to the writers of his time. Filled with an exaggerated idea of the dignity of history, he trembles at the thought of descending to so mean a thing as daily life. The Emperor moves before us in all his grandeur, the rich velvet of his train sweeping in stately waves upon the marble that he treads. We know many of the laws he made, the wars he waged, the great public assemblies and pageants of which he was the brilliant central figure ; but we know little of the man who dwelt within the gorgeous wrappings Of 262 EDWARD GIBBON. the many-hued life the people lived, we hear next to nothing."* But in spite of his defects, Robertson's name will always hold an honorable place among the historians of England. Edward Gibbon (1737-1794) was the greatest historical writer of this group. He was born at Putney, near London, and was the grandson of a merchant of large fortune. As his health was deli- cate, his early education was neglected; but he acquired an in- satiable appetite for reading, especially for historical literature. When he had been at the University of Oxford a little more than a year, he embraced the Roman Catholic faith. For this act he was taken from the University and was sent to Lausanne, where be was placed under the care of an eminent Swiss theologian. He subse- quently re-entered the Protestant Church ; but it is probable that this change of faith was only a matter of form, about which he was indifferent. In Switzerland he commenced that course of systematic study which gradually filled his mind with stores of sacred and profane learning; and there too he acquired a strong sympathy with French modes of thought. Indeed, the first-fruits of his pen actually appeared in French, an essay on t':e Study . of course, wanting in research, and valueless as an authority; but it displayed the author's grace of style and vivacity of narration. In 1770 he published his finest poem, The Deserted Village (200), and by it won new fame, live editions were sold at once. Three years after, lie wrote bis comedy, She Stoops to Conquer, one of the gayest, pleasattt- est, and most amusing pieces that the English stage can boast. Goldsmith was now one of the popular authors of his time. His society was courted by the wits, artists, states- men and writers who formed a brilliant circle round John- son and Reynolds; and he became a member of the famous Literary Club. His unconquerable improvidence, however, still kept him the slave of booksellers, who obliged him OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 28S to waste his exquisite talent on works for which he neithei possessed the requisite knowledge nor could make the necessary researches. Thus he wrote the History of Eng- land, the History of Greece, and the History of Animated Nature. He died at the age of forty-six, deeply mourned by the brilliant circle of friends to whom his very weak- nesses had endeared him, and followed by the tears and blessings of many wretches whom his inexhaustible benevo- lence had relieved. In everything Goldsmith wrote, prose or verse, serious or comic, there is a peculiar delicacy and purity of sentiment. His genius, though in its earlier years surrounded by squalid distress, was incapable of being sullied by any stain of vul- garity. No quality in his writings is more striking than the union of grotesque humor with pensive tenderness. While literature lasts, readers will linger over Goldsmith's sketches of the scenery and natural peculiarities of various countries, and over the details in his picture of "sweet Auburn." The Vicar of Wakefield. The Vicar of Wakefield* too, in spite of the absurdity of the plot, is one of those works that the world will not let die. It was colored with the hues of childhood's memory ; and the central figure in the group of shadows from the past that came to cheer the poor London author in his lonely garret, was the image of his * Dr. Johnson gives the following account of his first knowledge of The Vicar of Wakejieid :— " I received one morning a message from poor Goldsmith that he was in great distress, and, as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was dressed, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent passion. I perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of Madeira and a glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. He then told me he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I looked into it and saw its merits ; told the landlady I should soon return ; and, having gone to a book- seller, sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money and he discharged his rent, not without rating his landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill"— BosweWs Life of Johnson. 284 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. dead father : " For," says John Forster in his life of Gold- smith, "they who have loved, laughed and wept with the man in black of the Citizen of the World, the Preacher of The Deserted Village, and Doctor Primrose in the Vicar §f Wakefield, have given laughter, love and tears to the Rev. Charles Goldsmith." The gentle and quiet humor embodied in the simple Dr. Primrose, the delicate yet vigorous contrasts of character in other personages, the purity, cheerfulness, and gayety which envelop all the scenes and incidents, insure the work its immortality. His Comedies. Goldsmith's two comedies are written in two different methods, the Good-natured Man being a comedy of character, and She Stoops to Conquer, a comedy ©f intrigue. The merit of the first piece chiefly consists in the truly laughable personage of Croaker, and in the excel- lent scene where the disguised bailiffs are passed off on Miss Richland as the friends of Honeywood, whose house and person they have seized. But in She Stoops to Conquer we have a choice specimen of the comedy of intrigue, where the interest mainly depends upon a tissue of lively and farcical incidents. The best proof of Goldsmith's success in this drama is the constancy with which it has always kept possession of the stage. Peals of laughter ever greet the lively bustle of its scenes, the pleasant absurdities of Young Marlow, Mr. and Mrs. Hardcastle, and the admirable Tony Lumpkin. Among Goldsmith's minor poems Tlie Haunch of Venison deserves special attention on account of its easy narrative and its accurate sketching of commonplace society. In the poem Retaliation, written as a reply to taunting epitaphs on himself, he has given portraits of some of his distin- guished literary friends, and he has painted them with a hand at once refined and vigorous. For further readings on this topic, see Irvine's Oliitr Goldsmith,— Forster'a WILLIAM COWPER. 285 Life and Adventures of Oliver Goldsmith, -Walter Scott's Life of Goldsmith,— N A. Review, Vol. XLV., p. 91,— De Quincey's works,— Essays on the Poets, Vol. IX.,— Macaulay's Essays, Vol. VI. William Cowper (1731-1800) is eminently the poet of the domestic affections, and the exponent of that strong religious feeling which, towards the end of the eighteenth century, began to penetrate and modify all the relations of social life (236, 240). From his early childhood he* was exceedingly sensitive. His mother died when he was six years of age, and he was sent to one of the English boarding-schools, where the bullies were allowed to abuse the younger boys, and there he was brutally persecuted for two years. For seven years he was at the famous Westminster School, and then he was apprenticed to an attorney. By the influence of his friends a desirable position was secured for him in the service of the House of Lords ; but his sensitive nature was so terrified at the thought of presenting himself for a formal examina- tion, that he fell into despondency and attempted suicide. A short confinement in an asylum restored him from his insanity ; but he was so shaken by the attack that he was unfitted for active life. Four times during his life madness assailed him, and his last six years were continually shrouded in its pitiful gloom. Upon his recovery from the first attack he retired into the country, and placed himself under the care of the family of Mr. Unwin, a clergyman in Huntingdon. Cowper's virtues and accomplishments secured him the good-will of the family circle, and especially won the tender and life-long friendship of Mrs. Unwin. His mind, still smarting under its affliction, made him the victim of religious melancholy, and tormented him with despair concerning the salva- tion of his soul. As a pastime and as a means of escaping from his melancholy, he wrote a few hymns for Newton's collection, and cultivated his literary taste. The force, grace, and originality of his compositions soon acquired popularity, and he pursued as a profession what he had at first taken up as a diversion. His poetical talent did not flower until late. He was more than fifty years of age when his first volume was published. It contained long didactic and satiric poems entitled Table Talk, The Progress of Error, Truth, Expostulation, Hope, Charity, Conversation, and Retirement. The sale of his book was small. His sentiments, though sometimes genial, and always delicate, were too grave and 286 COWPEE, MACPHERSON. desponding to receive the popular applause. At about this time Lady Austen formed his acquaintance, and urged him to trim his pen for gayer verse. At her suggestion the famous ballad of John Gilpin was written. She playfully gave him " The Sofa " as a theme, and thus started him in the composition of that humorous, graceful, reflective poem, The Task (238). His most laborious, but least successful undertaking, was the translation of the Iliad into English blank verse. He justly considered that the neat and artificial style of Pope had done scant justice to the father of Greek poetry; but in endeavoring to give greater force and vigor to his own ver- sion, he fell into a fault of which Pope could not be accused, and made his translation too harsh and rugged, without approaching one whit nearer to the true character of the original. The longer and more important poems of Cowper are written in an original manner. They are a union of reflection, satire, description and moral declamation. Some of them are in blank verse, while in others he employed rhyme. His aim was to keep up a natural and colloquial style. His satirical sketches of the follies and absurdities of manners, and his indignant denunciations of national offences against piety and morality, are equally remark- able, in the one case, for sharpness and humor, and in the other for loftiness of sentiment. Cowper's Letter* are famous. They show the poet in his most amiable light and invest his character with a halo of goodness. Their style is free from all affectation. They should bo studied carefully by all who would excel in this most elegant of accom- plishments. Southey pronounces him the " best of English letter- writers." Macpherson, Chatterton, and Ireland. The latter half of the eighteenth century was remarkable for several nearly contempo- raneous attempts at literary imposture — the poetical forgeries of Macpherson, Chatterton, and Ireland. James Macpherson (1738- 1796), originally a country schoolmaster, and afterwards in the service of the English and East India governments, professed to have accumulated, in his travels through the Highlands <>f Scot- land, a mass of fragments of ancient poetry composed in the Gaelic or Erse dialect, common to that country and Ireland. The transla- tions, which Macpherson claimed to have made from the originals, MACPHERSON, CHATTERTON. 287 were composed in pompous and declamatory prose (243)- Upon their publication a controversy arose as to their authenticity. The Highlanders, eager for the honor of their country, declared for the genuineness of the literature, and said that the name of Ossian, and the incidents of the stories, had been told in the familiar traditions of the Highlands. It was also urged in their support that Celtic traditions in Ireland strikingly resembled the sentiments of Ossian. The English critics, on the other hand, doubted the antiquity of the papers, and demanded a view of the original poems. This Macpherson refused to grant, on the ground that he had been treated with indignity by those who scorned his pre- tensions. They then cited against him his plagiarisms from the whole range ot literature, — from Homer, the Bible, Shakespeare, Milton, and even from Thomson. But in spite of opposition and ridicule the papers were translated into the leading languages of Europe, and commanded the wondering attention of Goethe, Hume, and many other distinguished men of letters. In Germany the admiration of these productions has not subsided. The convic- tion lingers there, that they were the work of some grand old epic poet. Macpherson died without disclosing the originals of his professed discoveries, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. The annals of literature hardly present a more extraordinary example of precocious genius than that of Thomas Chatterton (1752-1770), nor an instance of a career more brief and melancholy (244)- He was born in 1752, the son of a poor sexton and parish schoolmaster at Bristol ; and he died, by suicide, before he had completed his eighteenth year. At eleven years of age he produced verses which will bear comparison with the early poems of any author ; and though he had received little education beyond that of a parish school, he conceived the project of deceiving all the scholars of his age. In the muniment room of a church at Bristol there was a chest called Canynge's coffer. (Canynge was a rich citizen who lived in .he reign of Edward IV.) The coffer contained charters and other documents connected with Canynge ? s gifts to the church. The yonn b poet familiarized himself with the sight of these antiquated writings, and determined to forge papers that could be palmed off upon the credulous. These he produced at intervals, generally 288 IRELAND, CRAB HE. taking advantage of some topic of public interest to contribute to the local newspapers or to his acquaintances, the pretended origi- nals, or transcripts of pretended originals, having some relation to the subject. Thus, on the opening of a new bridge over the Avon, he produced an account of processions, tournaments, religious solemnities, and other ceremonies which had taken place on the opening of the old bridge. To Mr. Burguin, a pewterer of the town who had a taste for heraldry, he gave a pedigree reaching back to William the Conqueror. Horace Walpole was then writing his anecdotes of British Painters, and Chatterton furnished him with a long list of mediaeval artists who had nourished in Bristol. Besides these documents he claimed to have discovered old poems in the chest. They are of great variety and unquestionable merit; and though modern criticism will instantly detect in them the most glaring marks of forgery, yet their brilliancy and their number were enough to deceive many learned scholars in an age when accurate antiquarian knowledge of the Middle Ages was much rarer than at present. In his eagerness to incrust his diction with the rust of antiquity, he overlays his words with such an accumulation of consonants as belongs to the orthography of no age of our lan- guage. He has also, as was inevitable, sometimes made a slip in the use of an old word, as when he borrowed the expression mortmal found in Chaucer's description of the Cook, he employed it to signify, not a disease, the gangrene, but a dish. Burning with pride, hope, and literary ambition, the unhappy lad betook himself to London, where, after struggling a short time with distress and almost with starvation, he poisoned himself on the 25th of August, 1770. William Henry Ireland (1777-1835) deserves mention only on account of his Shakespearean forgeries, imposed upon the public while he was yet a boy. Their success was due entirely to his skill in imitating old handwriting, and to the credulousness and the stupidity of those who were deceived by his work. He was soon compelled to acknowledge his guilt. George Crabbe (1754-1832). Byron speaks of Crabbe as 11 Nature's sternest painter, yet the best." He was born in the little seaport town of Aldborough in Suffolk, where his father was a collector of customs; and after a dreamy aud studious childhood, he was apprenticed to a surgeon and apothecary. Passionately GEORGE CRABBE. 289 fond of literature, he determined to seek his fortune in London, carry- ing with him several unfinished poems. After many disappointments he found himself reduced to despair; when he addressed a manly and affecting letter to Edmund Burke, who immediately admitted him to his house and his friendship. From this time Crabbe's for- tune changed ; he was assisted, both with money and advice, in bringing out his poem of The Library, and was induced to enter the Church. He became chaplain to the Duke of Rutland ; but after marriage with a youug lady to whom he had been long attached, he changed his position for the humbler but more independent life of a parish priest, and in this occupation he continued until his death. It was not until the appearance of The Village, in 1783, that Crabbe struck out that path in which he had neither predecessor nor rival. The success of this poem was great, for it was the first attempt to paint the manners and existence of the laboring class, without dressing them up in the artificial colors of fiction. In his next work, The Parish Register (246), the public saw the gradual ripening of his vigorous and original genius ; and this was followed, at comparatively short intervals, by The Borough, Tales in Verse, and Tales of the Hall. These, with the striking but painful poems, written in a different measure, entitled Sir Eustace Grey and The Hall of Justice, make up Crabbe's large and valuable contribution to the poetical literature of his country. Almost all these works are constructed upon a peculiar and generally similar plan. Crabbe starts with some description, as of the Village, the Parish Church, the Borough, from which he naturally proceeds to deduce a series of separate episodes, usually of middle and humble life, appro- priate to the leading idea. Thus in The Parish Register we have the most remarkable births, marriages, and deaths that are sup- posed to take place in a year amid a rural population; in The Borough (245) we have the lives and adventures of the most promi- nent characters that figure on the narrow stage of a small provincial town. With the exception of Sir Eustace Grey and The Hall of Justice, which are written in a short-lined stanza, Crabbe's poems are in heroic verse. The contrast is strange between the neat, Pope-like regularity of the metre, and the deep passion, the intense reality, and the quaint humor of the scenes displayed. His de- scriptions of nature, too, are marked by power of interesting a 13 290 HANNAH MORE. leader in the most unattractive features of the external world, by the sheer force of truth and exactness. The village-tyrant, the poacher, the smuggler, the miserly old maid, the pauper, and the criminal, are drawn with the same vivid force that paints the squalid streets of the fishing-town, or the fen, the quay, and the heath. Hannah More. The movement in the direction of greater free- dom can be detected in many minor poets of the time; and its influence is nowhere more noticeable than in the fact that, towards the close of the eighteenth century, women entered the walks of literature. Hannah More (1745-1833) was the most influential writer of her sex. Johnson considered her the best of " female versifiers," but her prose is equal, if not superior, to her verse. She was the daughter of a schoolmaster in Gloucestershire. Her first works were dramatic. The Search after Happiness, written at the age of sixteen, The Inflexible Captive, written a year later, and a few of her tales, had given her so good a name that when she removed to London, at about her twenty-eighth year, she was admitted to the literary circle of Johnson and Burke. A volume of her Poems was published in 1786, portions of which were termed by Johnson a great performance. Becoming weary of the life of London, she removed to Bristol. There her pen was busy, — prose and poetry flowing from it constantly. Her tales directed against Jacobins and Levellers reached a circulation of a million copies. Her best known works are— Thoughts on the Manners of the Great, 1788; On Female Education, 1799; Calebs in Search of a Wife, 1809; and Practical Piety, 1811. "She did, perhaps, as much real good in her generation as any woman that ever held a pen." Mrs. More's* style is flowi.ig, and often sparkles with the light of a pleasant humor. Her later works are of a more sombre cast, from the deeper impressions which religion seemed to be making upon her. Ccdebs is perhaps the chief of her works — a fiction of much beauty in style, with a mixture of quiet irony; the plot is well evolved, but the characters are too few, and the incidents too tame, to make it in the present day a readable book. It has been called a "dramatic sermon." • H.'umah More, though never married, was in her own day, and still is named Mrs. More. This title she acquired, in her dignified years, according to a conr- teous custom then observed in England. SHERIDAN, BURN'S. 291 Richard Brinsley Sheridan. A comic drama appeared con- temporaneously with the more romantic poetry. With a single exception its writers were men who failed of an enduring fame. Richard Brinsley Sheridan (1751-1816) was a genius of versatile and brilliant powers. He was famous as a Parliamentary orator ; but his highest fame was achieved as a dramatist. Byron says that " the intellectual reputation of Sheridan was truly enviable, that he had made the best speech — that on the Begums of Oude, — written the two best comedies, The Rivals and TJie School for Scandal (253), the best opera, The Duenna, and the best farce, The Critic" His career was extravagant and imprudent. The ingenious shifts by which he endeavored to stave off his embarrassments, and the jokes with which he disarmed even his angriest creditors, would furnish materials for a most amusing jest-book. His repartees and witti- cisms made him the darling of society. He died in poverty, but was buried with princely pomp. ROBERT BURNS. ** Burns is by far the greatest poet that ever sprang from the bosom of the people and lived and died in an humble condition."- Professor Wilson. " O he was a good-looking fine fellow !— he was that ; rather black an' ill- colored ; but he couldna help that, ye ken. He was a strong, manly-looking chap ; nane o' your ekilpit milk-and-water dandies : but a sterling, substantial fellow, who wadna hae feared the deil suppose he had met him. An' then siccan an ee he had i " —Memoir of Burns. " His person was strong and robust, his manners rustic, not clownish ; a sort of dignified plainness and simplicity which received part of its effect perhaps from one's knowledge of his extraordinary talents I think his countenance was more massive than it looks in any of the portraits There was a strong expression of sense and shrewdness in all his lineaments ; the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical temperament. It was large and of a dark cast, and glowed (I say literally glowed) when he spoke with feeling or interest. I never saw such another eye in a human head, though I have seen the most distinguished men in my time. His conversation expressed perfect self-confidence without the slight- est presumption.'"— 5fr Walter Scott. " None but the most narrow-minded bigots think of his errors and frailties but with sympathy and indulgence ; none but the blindest enthusiasts can deny their existence."— James Hogg. " He has in all his compositions great force of conception, and great spirit and animation in its expression. He has taken a large range through the region of Fancy, and naturalized himself in all her climates."— Francis Jeffrey. 292 burns. "As a poet Burns stands in the front rank. His conceptions are all original ; his thoughts are now and weighty ; his style unborrowed ; and he owes no honor to the subjects which his muse selected, for they are ordinary, and such as would have tempted no poet, save himself, to sing about."— Allan Cunningham. The greatest poet that Scotland has produced is Robert Burns (1759-1796) (247-251). He was born at the hamlet of Alloway in Ayrshire, and was the son of a peasant farmer of the humblest class. Popular education at that period was diffused in Scotland more generally than in any other country of Europe; and Burns received the training of the common school. Impelled by his eagerness for knowledge, he early became acquainted with some of the masterpieces of English literature. In this way he acquired the pure diction of classical English authors, and was able to use it with facility when he took up the poet's pen. The Specta- tor, and the volumes of Pope, Thomson, Shenstone and Sterne were on the shelf in his cabin. His early years were spent in laboring as a peasant on his father's farm. In the correspondence of his later years he says: "This kind of life, the cheerless gloom of a hermit, with the unceasing moil of a galley-slave, brought me to my sixteenth year, when love made me a poet." His " first performance," the song of Handsome Nell, revealed to him a talent by whose use he drove away some of the gloom of his youth. When his muse would not help him in writing song, she gave him expression for satire, or revery, or the poetic epistle. Until his twenty-eighth year he continued his weary struggle against poverty. He was driven from one farm to another in his attempts to improve his condition. At last, in despair, he determined to cross the ocean, and seek his fortune in the West Indies. In order to raise funds for the voyage he was induced to publish poems which had won local applause. The sale of the volume brought him twenty guineas. Out of the money he bought his passage, and then awaited the sailing of his ship. BURNS. 293 His Summons to Edinburgh. On the last night that he expected to be in Scotland, he wrote what, he said, should be the last song he would ever measure in Caledonia,— " The gloomy night is gathering fast." But the clouds broke with the dawn ; for a letter from a poetical critic gave him encouragement that an edition of his poems would be received with favor in Edinburgh. The voyage was aban- doned. His own words are: "I immediately posted to Edinburgh, without a single acquaintance or letters of introduction. The baneful star which had so long shed its blasting influence upon my zenith, for once made a revolution to the nadir." But he needed no letters of introduction. His songs had gone before him. The lit- erary and the gay- of the capital welcomed the singer. The new edition of his poems was received with an enthusiasm that made "The Ayrshire Ploughman" the lion of the town.* This success put money in his purse ; and he was able to gratify his desire to see the celebrated scenery and the places of historical interest in his native country. After spending the summer of 1787 in travel, he returned to Edinburgh with the reasonable expectation of securing from those whose praises and friendship he had won, such em- ployment as would enable him to devote some of his time to his muse. While waiting for their help he joined in their * "It needs no effort of the imagination to conceive what the sensations of an isolated set of scholars (almost all either clergymen or professors) must have been in the presence of this big-boned, black-browed, brawny stranger, with his great flashing eyes, who, having forced his way among them from the plough-tail, at a single stride, manifested in the whole strain of his bearing and conversation, a most thorough conviction that in the society of the most eminent men of his nation, he was exactly where he was entitled to be ; hardly deigned to flatter them by exhibiting even an occasional symptom of being flattered by their notice ; by turns calmly measured himself against the most cultivated understandings of his time, in discussion ; overpowered the bon mots of the most celebrated convivialists by broad floods of merriment, impregnated with all the burning life of genius ; astounded bosoms habitually enveloped in the thrice-piled folds of social reserve, by com- pelling them to tremble— nay, to tremble visibly— beneath the fearless touch of natural pathos." — Lockhart. 294 BURNS. convivial revelries. His social nature led him into intemper- ance. When his money was gone, and he was compelled to find support, a place was given him as a gauger of liquors in his old district. He rented a farm and lived upon a meagre income. Now his spirit was buoyant and gleeful, now despondent. His strong constitution, undermined by excesses, soon broke down, and the poet died at Dumfries, in the thirty-seventh year of his age. His Poems. The highest poetical qualities — tenderness the most exquisite, humor the broadest and most refined, the most delicate perception of natural beauty, the highest finish and the easiest negligence of style, are found in the writings of Burns. They are chiefly lyrics of inimitable charm; but he has also written narrative and satire. The variety of his poetic talent is best displayed in Tarn QfShanter. In no other poem of the same length can there be found a blending of so much brilliant description, touch- ing pathos, and quaint, sly humor; nor is there elsewhere in our literature such a combination of the terrific and the ludicrous. Another inimitable poem, half-narrative, but set thick with glorious songs, is the Jolly Beggars : careless vagabond jollity, roaring mirth and gipsy merriment, have never been better expressed. In his Address to the DeHl, Death and Dr. Hornbook, The Twa Dogs, and the dialogue between the Old and New Bridges of Ayr, Burns gives us humorous and picturesque description with reflections and thoughtful moralizing upon life and society. In the poem descriptive of rustic fortune-telling on Halloween, in the Vision of Liberty, where Burns gives such a sublime picture of his own early aspiratious, in the unequaled sorrow that breathes through the Lament for Glencaim. in Scotch Drink, the Haggis, the epistle's to Captain (Irose and Matthew Henderson, in the exquisite description of the death of the old ewe Mailie, and the poet's address to his old mare, we burns. 295 find the same mixture of pathos and humor; that truest pathos which finds its materials in the common, every-day objects of life, and that truest humor which is allied to the deepest feeling. The famous lines On Turning up a Mouse's Nest with the Plough, and on destroying in the same way a Mountain Daisy, will ever remain among the gems of poetry. The Dialogue between the Twa Dogs is an elaborate com- parison of the relative degrees of virtue and hapjnness granted to the rich and the poor. His description of the joys and consolations of the poor man's lot is perhaps even more beautiful in this poem than in the more generally popular Cotter's Saturday Night (251). Certainly there has never been a tribute paid to the virtues of the poor, nobler than has been given by Burns in these two poems. Those of Burns's songs that are written in pure English, in some instances have a pretentious air. But there is no affectation in his verse when it flows in the rhythm of his native dialect. The list of subjects adapted to the purpose of the song-writer is always very limited — love, patriotism, and pleasure, constitute The whole. In the song Ae Fond Kiss and then We Part is concentrated the essence of a thousand love-poems ; the heroic outbreak of patriotism in Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled is a lyric of most stirring force ; and in those of a calmer and more lamenting char- acter, as Ye Banks and Braes, there is the union of per- sonal sentiment with the complete assimilation of the poet's mind to the loveliness of external nature. THE LITERATURE OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. In reviewing the English literature of the eighteenth century the student will be reminded that it contains the most powerful satire and the most elegant light essays that have been produced. In it the first great works of fiction, the first distinctively pronounced skepticism, the first carefully written histories, are found coming 296 THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. from the pens of Englishmen. In it, too, our poetry of the fire- side was first sung. The literature of the century may be divided into three eras, and they are distinctly marked : I. The Augustan Age ; so it was called by the men of the next generation, who felt that in it English literature had reached such paramount excellence as the literature of Rome attained in the age of Augustus. It closes with the reign of George I. The attitude of the government towards literary men was somewhat changed at the accession of George II.; a few writers of note appeared at that time, and at about that time some of the bright stars of the Augustan galaxy disappeared. — II. The Reign of George II. (1727-1760). It was not illumined by such brilliant men as Newton and Addison. There was less of elegance, but there was a gain in purpose. There was more earnest questioning than in the former age. Men were no longer satisfied with attack- ing the advocates of principles, they attacked the principles them- selves. Hume published his philosophical essays, startled his readers by the audacity of his questioning, and prepared the way for study of German philosophy and skepticism. His example led the thinkers of a later generation to study Kant and to recognize German thought and literature. He also alarmed the theologians, so that they took up weapons of defence, and fought for the honor of English religious opinions, and for the sacredness of the Scrip- ture record. A reaction from this boldly pronounced skepticism called forth earnest reformers. They demanded practical as well as theoretical deference to Christ's teachings. In sermon and trea- tise and song, the Wesleys and Whitetield and Watts charmed the saintly, and terrified the sinful. They created a demand for simple, fervent religious literature. A progressive seriousness shows itself in the essays that would rival the glory of the Spectator, in the philosophy that would secure firm foundation for the religious faith of the intellectual man, and, where it would be least expected, even in the poetry that is imitative of Pope. — HE. The Reign of George III. (1760-1820). Here we find a poetry simpler than in either of the preceding generations. The song gave thrilling and laughing echoes. The imagination was revived, and poetic life was healthful. Philosophy turned the seriousness to practical account. The century of literature under consideration was superficial THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 297 in its thinking, and held itself in high esteem.* But it had a record to be pleased with ; for it was opening new lines of literary- work, and was producing earnest and original thinkers. That century was the formative period of English prose style. It developed two distinct modes of literary expression. The first in order of time and in excellence is the style approaching the diction and idioms of elegant conversation. Addison is its best representative. The second style seeks harmonies of souud, avoids elliptical idioms, is scholastic, and is based upon the idea that there must be more dignity in writing than in the best speaking. Johnson is its exponent and champion. The former style is Eng- lish ; the latter is Latinic. They are both influencing the writing of our own time; but the simpler method commands the higher approval. * The poor eighteenth century was critical, negative, and unpoetic. ... It was one of those seasons of comparative diminution of the general vital energy of our species."— MassorCs Essays, p. 350. In this chapter we have considered:— The Dawn of Romantic Poetry, 1. Matthew Greene, James Beattie, Robert Blair, 2. James Thomson, 3. William Collins. 4. Thomas Gray, 5. Mark Akenside, 6. Joseph and Thomas Warton, 7. Oliver Goldsmith. a. The Vicar of Wakefield, b. His Comedies. 8. William Cowper. 6. 3IacpJierson, Chatterton, and Ireland. 10. George Crabbe. 11. Hannah More. 12. Richard Brinsley Sheridan. IS. Robert Bums. a. His Summons to Edinburgh, b. His Poems. 14. The Literature of the Eighteenth Century, si | i! r- w <*> *- ^ THE ARTIFICIAL POETS f Alexandeb p °M, o/ ^ first half of the \ JoHN Gay ' Matthew Priob, Eighteenth Century. PROSE WRITERS of the first half of the Eighteenth Century. THE FOIST GREAT NOVELISTS. THE FIRST GREAT HISTORIANS. ETHICAL, POLITICAL, AND THEOLOGICAL WRITERS of tlie latter half of the Eighteenth Century. THK DAWN OF ROMANTIC POETRY. I Edward Young. f Joseph Addison, Richard Steele, I Jonathan Swift, \ John Arbuthnot, Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke George Berkeley, Mary Wortley Montagu. Daniel Defoe, Samuel Richardson, Henry Fielding, I Tobias George Smollett, L Laurence Sterne. r David Hume, \ William Robertson, [ Edward Gibbon. f Samuel Johnson, Edmund Burke, Adam Smith, Sm William Blackstone, { William Paley. James Thomson, WnxiAM Collins, Mark Akenside, William Shenstonm, Joseph Wakton, Thomas Warton, [Oliver Goldsmith], William Cowper, Jaim's McPhrrson, Thomas Chattorton William Henry Ireland Qbobgb Crabbe, [Hannah More], [Kk'IMKH BSINBXtt SlHKll)A.N.] ROBERT BURNS. The Literary Impostort. CHAPTHH XXIV. WALTER SCOTT. M Blessings and prayers in nobler retinue Than sceptred king or laureled conqueror knows, Follow Mb wondrous potentate."— William Wordsworth. THE great revolution in literary taste which culminated in the poems and novels of Walter Scott, is traceable to the labors of Bishop Thomas Percy (1728-1811). In 1765 he published a collection of old ballads under the title of Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. Many of these ballads had been preserved only in manuscript, and others had been printed on loose sheets in the rudest manner for circulation among the lower orders of people. Many authors before him, as, for instance, Addison and Sir Philip Sidney, had expressed the admiration which cultivated taste must ever feel for the rude charms of the old ballad-poets ; but Percy was the first who undertook a systematic and general examination of the neglected treasures. He found, in col- lecting these compositions, that the majority of the oldest and most interesting were distinctly traceable to the frontier region between England and Scotland which had been the scene of the most striking incidents of predatory warfare, such as those recorded in the noble ballads of Chevy Chase and the Battle of Otterbum. Besides a very large number of these purely heroic ballads, Percy gave specimens of songs and lyrics extending down to a comparatively late period of English history, even to his own century. But the chief interest of his collection, and the chief service he rendered 300 WALTER SCOTT. to literature by his publication, is in the earlier portion. It is impossible to exaggerate the influence exerted by the Reliques. This book has been studied with the utmost interest by each succeeding generation of English poets, and has given the first direction to the youthful genius of some of our most illustrious writers. The boyish enthusiasm of Walter Scott was stirred by the vivid recitals of the old Border rhapsodists. Percy's volumes * gave him the senti- ment that culminated in the Lady of the Lake, and in Waverley. A genius at once so vigorous and versatile, a productive- ness so magnificent and so sustained as that of B. 1771.] Walter Scott (254, 263), will with difficulty be D. 1832.] found, though we ransack the realms of ancient and modern letters. He was connected, both by the father's and mother's side, with several of those ancient, historic Border families whose warlike memories his genius was destined to make immortal. In consequence of delicate health in early life he passed much of his time at the farm of his grandfather near Kelso, where he was sur- rounded with legends, ruins, and historic localities. He was afterwards sent to the High School, and then to the Uni- versity of Edinburgh. He was not distinguished as a student ; but among his fellows he was famous for his talent in telling stories. After leaving the University, he entered the profession of law. It had little charm for him. English, German and Italian authors easily won him away from his law-books. The direction of his mind was towards the poetical and antiquarian works of the Middle Ages ; but just at that time there had been awakened in the intellectual circles of Edinburgh a taste for German literature. Scott's * "The first time I could scrape a fow shillings together— which were not com- mon occurrences with me — I bought unto myself a eopy of these beloved volumes: nor do I believe I ever read a book half so frequently, or with half the rnthnriatm " ^Scott, in LockharC* lift. WALTER SCOTT. 301 first appearance as an author was in translations from Burger. Scott was now residing with his young wife at Lasswade. He formed the purpose of rescuing from oblivion the large stores of Border ballads still current among the descendants of the Liddesdale and Annandale moss-troopers, and he traveled into those picturesque regions, where he not only gathered a vast treasure of unedited legends, but also made himself familiar with the scenery and manners of that country over which he was to cast the magic of his genius. Three volumes of the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border were soon published. The learning and taste of this work gave Scott a high reputation. His success was tempt- ing him to abandon the profession of the law altogether, and to devote himself to literature, when an appointment as Sheriff of Selkirkshire brought him to a decision. He changed his residence to a pleasant farm at Ashestiel on the Tweed, and six years after he appeared before the public as an original romantic poet. His Poems. In 1805 The Lay of the Last Minstrel was published. In rapid succession followed Marmion, The Lady of the Lake, Rokeby, and The Lord of the Isles, not to enumerate many less important works, such as The Vision of Don Roderick, The Bridal of Triermain, Harold the Dauntless, and The Field of Waterloo. We cannot overstate the rapture of enthusiasm with which these poems were received. They were written rapidly and with un- stinted freshness. With Rokeby the popularity of Scott's poetry, though still very great, perceptibly declined. This may have been due in part to the fact that he was not fortunate in the choice of the theme for that poem, and in part to the eclipsing glory of Byron's genius. Aware of the declining public favor> he immediately and quietly aban- doned poetry to enter the field of the novelist, where he could stand without a rival. 302 WALTER SCOTT. His Prose Writings. Nine years earlier, Waverley had been sketched and thrown aside. In 1814 it was published without the author's name, — the first of the inimitable Waverley Novels. The town and the country were wild in its praise, and all were curious to know who the writer might be. The secret was kept. During the seventeen years between 1814 and 1831 he wrote his long series of novels, and wrote them with such inconceivable facility, that, on an average, two of the works appeared in one year. During this same period he also published many works in the departments of history, criticism, and biography; among them, A Life of Napoleon, the Tales of a Grandfather, the amusing Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft, and ex- tensive editions, with lives, of Dryden and Swift. Such activity is rare indeed in the history of letters; stilL rarer, when combined with such general excellence in the products. The impulse to this prodigious industry was Scott's passionate and long-cherished ambition to found a territorial family, and to be able to live the life of a pro- vincial magnate. In 1811 he had purchased about one hundred acres of land on the banks of the Tweed, and now, encouraged by the immense profits accruing from his works, he purchased one piece of land after another, planted and improved the estate, and transformed his modest cottage at Abbotsford into a mansion crowded with the rarest anti- quarian relics. There he exercised a princely hospitality, "doing the honors of Scotland " to those who were attracted in crowds by the splendor of his name. The funds needed for such a mode of life he supplied in part by engaging secretly in large commercial speculations with the printing ami publishing firm of the Ballantyues, his intimate friends and school-fellows. His Misfortunes. By the failure of the Ballantynes in the commercial crisis of 1825, Scott found himself financially WALTER SCOTT. 303 mined. He might easily have escaped from his liabilities by taking advantage of the bankrupt law ; but his sense of honor was so delicate that he asked only for time, and reso- lutely set himself to pay off, by unremitting literary toil, the vast sum of one hundred and seventeen thousand pounds. Woodstock was his first novel after his misfortune. It was written in three months, and brought him £8,228. The nine volumes of the Life of Napoleon followed, and for that work he received £18,000. Thus encouraged, he toiled on with unflagging energy, determined to pay the last guinea due to the creditors of his firm. Volume after volume came from his pen — not so joyous as the earlier ones had been — and he had all but reached the goal, when the tired body broke down. There is no more touching or sub- lime spectacle than that of this great genius, in the full plenitude of his powers, voluntarily and without a word of repining, abandoning the splendor he was so well qualified to adorn, and the rural life he so well knew how to appre- ciate, and shutting himself up in a small house in Edin- burgh, to wipe out, by incessant literary toil, the liabilities which he had too much nobility to evade. The Waverley Novels, though anonymously published, were universally ascribed to him, as the only man in Great Britain whose peculiar acquirements and turn of genius could have produced them. Nevertheless, the mystery of the true authorship, long a very transparent one, was main- tained by Scott with great care. It was not until the failure of Ballantyne's house rendered longer concealment im- possible that he formally avowed himself their author.* In the year 1830 his mind, exhausted by incessant toil, began to * Robert Chambers, in the Biographical Dictionary of Eminent Scotchmen, sug- gests that Scott " kept the Waverley secret with such pertinacious closeness " because u unwilling to be considered as an author writing for fortune, which he must have thought something degrading to the baronet of Abbotsford." The sug- gestion is the most plausible that has been made, and well accords with ScottV foolish notions concerning the peculiar dignity of titled gentlemen. 304 WALTER SCOTT. show symptoms of weakness; and in the autumn of the next year he was sent to Italy and the Mediterranean in the vain hope of re-establishing his health. He returned to Scot- land after an absence of six months; and after lingering in a state of almost complete unconsciousness for a short time, he died at Abbotsford on the 21st of September, 1832. His body was buried in the old ruin of Dryburgh Abbey. His personal character is almost perfect. High-minded, generous and hospitable to the extreme, he hardly had an enemy or a misunderstanding during the whole of a long and active career. He was the delight of society; for his con- versation, though unpretending, kindly, and jovial, was filled with that union of old-world lore and acute and pic- turesque observation which renders his works so enchanting. There perhaps never was a man so totally free from the pettinesses and affectations to which men of letters are prone. Comments upon His Narrative Poems. The narrative poems of Scott form an epoch in the history of modern literature. In their subjects, their versification, and their treatment, they were an innovation. The materials were derived from the legends and exploits of mediaeval chivalry; and the actors were borrowed partly from history and partly from imagination. He seems to move with most freedom in that picturesque Border region with whose romantic legends he was so wonderfully familiar. The greater of these poems are, unquestionably, the Lay of the Last Min- strel (254), Marmion (256-258) and the Lady of the Lake (259). According to Scott's own judgment, the interest of the Lay depends mainly upon the stylo, that of Marmion upon the descriptions, that of the Lady of the Lake upon the incidents. The plots of these poems are in general neither very probable nor very logically construct ed, but they allow the poet ample opportunities for striking situa- WALTER SCOTT. 305 tions and picturesque episodes. The characters are dis- criminated by broad and vigorous strokes, rather than by any attempt at moral analysis or strong delineation of pas- sion. In his vivid descriptions of scenery, Scott sometimes indulges in a quaint but graceful vein of moralizing, in which he beautifully associates inanimate nature with the sentiments of the human heart. A charming instance of this may be found in the opening description of Rokeby. The action of the Lay of the Last Minstrel is drawn from the legends of Border warfare ; and necromancy, the tourney, the raid, and the attack on a strong castle, are successively described with unabating energy. The mid- night expedition of Deloraine to the wizard's tomb in Mel- rose Abbey, the ordeal of battle, the alarm, the feast, and the penitential procession, are painted with the force and picturesqueness of real scenes. In Marmion the main action is loftier and more historical, and the catastrophe is made to coincide with the description of the great battle of Flod- den. It is indeed "a fearful battle rendered you in music;" and the whole scene, from the rush and fury of the onset down to the least heraldic detail or minute trifle of armor and equipment, is delineated with the truth of an eye- witness. In the Lady of the Lake he broke up new and fertile ground; he brought into contact the wild, half- savage mountaineers of the Highlands and the refined and chivalrous court of James V. The exquisite scenery of Loch Katrine became, when invested by the magic of the de- scriptions, the chief object of the traveler's pilgrimage ; and it is no exaggeration to say, as Macaulay has said, that the glamour of the great poet's genius has forever hallowed even the barbarous tribes whose manners are here invested with all the charms of fiction. In no other of his poems is that gallant spirit of chivalric bravery and courtesy which pervades Scott's poetry, as it animated his personal char- acter, so powerfully manifested. 306 WALTEE SCOTT. Though the tale of Rokeby contains many beautiful de- scriptions, and exhibits strenuous efforts to draw and con- trast individual characters with force, the epoch— that of the Civil Wars of Charles the First's reign — was one in which Scott felt himself less at home than in the feudal ages. The last of the greater poems, The Lord of the hies, went back to Scott's favorite epoch. The voyage of Robert -Bruce, the scenes in the Castle of Artornish, the description of the savage and terrific desolation of the Western Highlands, show little diminution in his picturesque power. The Battle of Bannockburn reminds us of the hand that drew the field of Flodden. Scott's ardent patriotism must have found a special pleasure in delineating the great victory of his country's independence. The Vision of Don Roderick, though based upon a striking and picturesque tradition, is principally a song of triumph over the recent defeat of the French arms in the Peninsula; but the moment he leaves the mediaeval battle-field, Scott seems to lose half his power ; in this poem, as in Waterloo, his combats are neither those of feudal knights nor of modern soldiers, and there is painfully visible, throughout, a struggle to be emphatic and picturesque. Indeed it may be said that almost all poems made to order, and written to celebrate contemporary events, have a forced and artificial air. The Waverley Novels may be divided into the two main classes of Historical, or such as derive their principal in- terest from the delineation of some real persons or events ; and Personal, or those entirely or principally fouuded upon private life or family legend. According to this method of classification, we shall range seven works under Scottish history, seven under English, and three will belong to the Continental department ; while the novels mainly assignable to the head of private life — sometimes, it is true, more or less connected, as in the cases of Mob Roy and Red- WALTER SCOTT. 307 gauntlet, with historical events — are twelve in number. The latter class deal for the most part with purely Scottish scenery and character. The following arrangement will assist the memory in recalling such a large and varied cycle of works : — I.— HISTORICAL. I. — SCOTTISH Waverley. The Period of the Pretender's attempt in 1745. The Legend of Montrose. The Civil War in the seven- teenth century. Old Mortality. The Rebellion of the Covenanters. The Monastery, ) The deposition and imprisonment of The Abbot. ) Mary Queen of Scots. The Fair Maid of Perth. The Reign of Robert in. Castle Dangerous. The time of the Black Douglas. II. — ENGLISH Ivanhoe (263). The return of Richard Coeur de Lior from the Holy Land. Kenilworth. The Reign of Elizabeth. The Fortunes of Nigel. Reign of James I. Peveril of the Peak. Reign of Charles II.; period of the pretended Catholic plot. Betrothed. The Wars of the Welsh Marches. The Talisman. The Third Crusade : Richard Coeur d« Lion. Woodstock. The Civil War and Commonwealth. Quentin Durward. Louis XL and Charles the Bold. Anne of Geierstein. The epoch of the Battle of Nancy. Count Robert of Paris. The Crusaders at Byzan' tium. III.— CONTINENTAL. LL— PERSONAL. Ouy Mannering. The Antiquary. Black Dwarf. Rob Roy. The Heart of Midlothian (262). The Bride of Lammermoor. The Pirate. St. Ronan's Well. Redgauntlet. The Surgeon's Daughter. The Two Drovers. The Highland Widow. In this unequaled series of fictions, the author's power of bringing near to us the remote and historical, whether of persons, places, or events, has something in common 308 WALTEB SCOTT. with that of Shakespeare, as shown in his historical dramas. Scott was careless in the construction of his plots. He wrote with great rapidity, and aimed at picturesque effect rather than at logical coherency. His imagination was so powerful that the delight he felt in developing the humors and adventures of one of those inimitable persons he had invented, sometimes left him no space for the elaboration of the pre-arranged intrigue. His style, though always easy and animated, is far from being careful or elaborate. Scotticisms will be found in almost every chapter. Descrip- tion, whether of scenery, incident, or personal appearance, is abundant in his works; but few of his readers will be found to complain of his luxuriance in this respect, for it has filled his pages with bright and vivid pictures. His senti- ments are invariably pure, manly, and elevated; and the spirit of the true gentleman is seen as clearly in his deep sympathy with the virtues of the poor and humble, as in the knightly fervor with which he paints the loftier feel- ings of the educated classes. In the delineation of char- acter, as well as in the painting of external nature, he faithfully reflects the surface. He simply sets before us so brightly, so vividly, all that is necessary to give a distinct idea, that his images remain in the memory. For further reading concerning Scott's life and writings the student is referred to Prescott's Biographical- and Critical Miscellanies,— Irving' s Abbotteford,— Lockhart's Life of Scott,— articles in Harper's Magazine, Vols. 8, 26, 33, 36, 43, 44,— Carlyle's Essays,— Jeffrey's Essays,— North American Review, Vol. 87,— Leslie Stephen's Hours in the Library — Hazlitt's Miscellaneous Works, Vol. V— Bayne'a Essays on Biography and Criticism, First Series. In this chapter we have considered :— The Revolution hi Literary Taste. 1. Bishop Percy. 2, Walter Scott, — a. Hie Potnis,— b. His Prose Writings, — <•• Hi* Misfortunes,— -d. Comments upon His Narrative Poems,-— e. The Wavertef Novels Classified* CHAPTEE XX?. BYRON, MOORE, SHELLEY, KEATS, LEIGH HUNT, LANDOR HOOD, BROWNING. LORD BYRON. u Never had any writer so vast a command of the whole eloquence of scorn, misanthropy, and despair.'-— T. B. Macaulay. "I found Lord Byron in the highest degree courteous, and even kind. We met for an hour or two almost daily in Mr. Murray's drawing-room, and found a great deal to say to each other. . . . Iiis reading did not seem to me to have been very extensive, either in poetry or history. Having the advantage of him in that respect, and possessing a good competent share of such reading as is little read, 1 was sometimes able to put under his eye objects which had for him the interest of novelty."— Walter Scott. " Byron's poetry is great— great— it makes him truly great : he has not so much greatness in himself."— Thomas Campbell. "To this day English critics are unjust to him. .... If ever there was a violent and madly sensitive soul, but incapable of being otherwise ; ever agitated, but in an enclosure without issue ; predisposed to poetry by its innate fire, but limited by its natural barriers to a single kind of poetry— it was Byron's."— H. A Taine. THE influence exerted by Byron on the taste and senti- ment of Europe has not yet passed away, and, though far from being so pervading as it once was, it is not likely to be effaced. He called himself, in one of his poems, "the grand Napoleon of the realms of rhyme;'' and there is some similarity between the suddenness and splendor of his literary career, and the meteoric rise and domination of the first Bonaparte. They were both, in their respective de- partments, the offspring of revolution ; and both, after reigning with absolute power for some time, were deposed from their supremacy. Their reigns will leave traces in the political, and in the literary history of the nineteenth cen« 310 BYRON. tury. George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824) (264-277), was born in London, and was the son of an unprincipled profligate and of a Scottish heiress. His mother had a temper so passionate and uncontrolled that, in its capricious alternations of fondness and violence, she seemed insane. Her dowry was speedily dissipated by her worthless hus- band, and she, with her boy, was obliged to live for several years in comparative poverty. He was about eleven years old when the death of his grand-uncle, an eccentric and misanthropic recluse, made him heir-presumptive to the baronial title of one of the most ancient aristocratic houses in England. With the title, he inherited large, though embarrassed estates, and the noble, picturesque residence of Newstead Abbey, near Nottingham. He was sent first to Harrow School, and afterwards to Trinity College, Cam- bridge. At college he became notorious for the irregular- ities of his conduct. He was a greedy though desultory reader; and his imagination was especially attracted to Oriental history and travels. While at Cambridge, in his twentieth year, Byron made his first literary attempt, in the publication of a small volume of fugitive poems entitled Hours of Idleness, by Lord Byron, a Minor. An unfavorable criticism of this work in the Edinburgh Review threw him into a frenzy of rage. He instantly set about taking his revenge in the satire, English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, in which he involved in one common storm of invective, not only his enemies of the Edinburgh Review, but almost all the literary men of the day,— Walter Scott, Moore, and many others, from whom he had received no provocation whatever. He soon became ashamed of his unreasoning violence; tried, but vainly, to suppress the poem ; and, in after life, became the friend and sincere admirer of some whom he had lampooned. Byron went abroad to travel, and filled his mind with the picturesque life and scenery of Greece, Turkey and the BYRON. 311 East, accumulating those stores of character and descrip- tion which he displayed with splendor in his poems. The first two cantos of Childe Harold (264-267) took the pub- lic by storm, and placed the young poet at the summit of social and literary popularity. " I awoke one morning," he says, " and found myself famous." These cantos were fol- lowed in rapid succession by The Giaour (268, 269), The Bride of Abydos (270), The Corsair (271), and Lara. Scott had drawn his material from feudal and Scottish life ; Byron broke up new ground in describing the manners, scenery, and wild passions of the East and of Greece — a region as picturesque as that of his rival, and as new and fresh to readers. Eeturning to England in his dawning fame, the poet became the lion of the day. His life was passed in fashionable dissipation. He married Miss Mil- banke, a lady of fortune ; but the union was an unhappy one. In about a year Lady Byron suddenly quitted her husband. Her reasons for taking this step remain a mys- tery. Deeply wounded by the scandal of this separation, the poet again left England ; and thenceforth his life was passed uninterruptedly on the Continent, in Switzer- land, in Italy, and in Greece, where he solaced his embit- tered spirit with misanthropical attacks upon all that his countrymen held sacred. "While at Geneva he produced the third canto of Childe Harold, The Prisoner of Chillon (273), Manfred, (274), and The Lament of Tasso. Be- tween 1818 and 1821 he was residing at Venice and Ravenna ; and was writing Mazeppa, the first five cantos of Don Juan, and most of his tragedies, as Marino Faliero, Sardanapalus, The Two Foscari, Werner, Cain, , and The Deformed Transformed. In many of these poems the in- fluence of Shelley's literary manner and philosophical tenets is traceable. At this time he was grossly dissipated. In 1823 he determined to devote his fortune and his influence to the aid of the Greeks, then struggling for their indepen- 312 BY RON. dence. He arrived at Missolonghi at the beginning of 1824 ; where, after giving striking indications of his prac- tical talents, as well as of his ardor and self-sacrifice, he died on the 19th of April of the same year, at the early age of thirty-six. Childe Harold. Childe Harold, his most remarkable poem, consists of a series of gloomy but intensely poetical mono- logues, put into the mouth of a jaded and misanthropic voluptuary, who seeks refuge from his misery in the con- templation of lovely and historic scenes of travel. The first canto describes Portugal and Spain ; the second carries the wanderer to Greece, Albania and the Mge&n Archi- pelago; in the third, the finest of them all, Switzerland, Belgium and the Khine, give opportunities not only for splendid pictures of the beauty of nature, but also for mus- ings on Napoleon, Voltaire, Rousseau, and the great men whose renown has thrown a new glory over those enchant- ing scenes ; in the fourth canto the reader is borne success- ively over the fairest part of Italy — Venice, Ferrara, Florence, Rome, and Ravenna — and the immortal dead, and the master- pieces of painting and sculpture, are described to him with an intensity of feeling that had never before been shown in descriptive poetry. The first two cantos are somewhat feeble and tame as compared with the strength and massive power of the two latter, which are the productions of his more mature faculties. The third canto contains the magnificent description of the Battle of Waterloo. The poem is written in the Spenserian stanza. To the beginning the poet makes an effort to f the Angela, the former being immeasurably the better, both in the interest of the story and in the power of its treatment. The plan of Lalla Rookh is original ; it consists of a • Collier. MOORE, SHELLEY 319 little prose love-tale, describing the journey of a beautiful Oriental princess from Delhi to Bucharia, where she is to meet her be- trothed, the king of the latter country. The prose of the work is inimitably beautiful ; the whole style is sparkling with Oriental gems, and perfumed as with Oriental musk and roses; and the very profusion of brilliancy and of voluptuous languor, which in another kind of composition might be regarded as meretricious, only adds to the effect. The story forms a setting to four poems : The Veiled Prophet, The Fire Worshippers, Paradise and the PeH (278). and The Light of the Harem ; all, of course, of an Eastern character, and the first two in some degree historical. The first, written in the rhymed heroic couplet, is the longest and most ambitious, while the others are composed in that irregular, animated versification, brought into fashion by Walter Scott and Byron. His Prose Writings. The chief prose works of Moore are the three biographies of Sheridan, Byron, and Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and the tale of The Epicurean. The last, a narrative of the first ages of Christianity, describes the conversion of a young Athenian phil- osopher, who travels into Egypt, and is initiated into the mysterious worship of Isis. Moore's biographies, especially that of Byron, are of great value. His memoir of his friend and fellow-poet is the best that has yet appeared. Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822) was of a wealthy family, and was born at Field Place, in Sussex (283-285). At Eton his sensitive mind was shocked by the sight of boyish tyranny; and he went to Oxford full of abhorrence for the cruelty and bigotry which he fancied pervaded all the relations of civilized life. He filled his mind with arguments against Christianity ; and having published a tract avowing atheistic principles, he was expelled from the Uni- versity. This scandal, together with his marriage to a beautiful girl, his inferior in rank, caused him to be renounced by his family. After a few years his wife left him, and subsequently ended her life by suicide. He then married Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, and hav- ing induced his family to make him an allowance, he was relieved from pecuniary difficulties. The delicate state of his health ren- dered it advisable that he should leave England for a warmer climate, and the remainder of his life was passed abroad, with only one short interruption, In Switzerland he became acquainted 320 SHELLEY. with Byron, upon whom he exerted a powerful influence. He afterwards migrated to Italy, where he kept up an intimate com- panionship with Byron, still continuing to pour forth his strange and enchanting poetry. He resided at Rome, and composed there many of his finest productions. His death was early and tragic. Boating had always been a passion with him. As he was returning in a small yacht from Leghorn, in company with a friend and a single sailor, his vessel was caught in a squall, in the Gulf of Spezzia, and went down with all on hoard. His body was washed ashore some days afterwards, and in accordance with the quaran- tine laws of that locality was burned. Byron deposited the ashes in the Protestant cemetery at Rome. Shelley, both as a poet and as a man, was a dreamer, a visionary. The very intensity of his sympathy with his kind clouded his reason ; and he fell into the common error of enthusiasts, of suppos- ing that, if the present organization of society were swept away, a millennium of virtue and happiness must ensue. As a poet he was gifted with genius of a high order, with richness and fertility of imagination, an intense fire and energy in the reproduction of what he conceived, and a command over all the resources of metrical harmony such as no English poet has surpassed. His career com- mences with Queen Mab, written by the poet when but eighteen years old, a wild phantasmagoria of beautiful description and fer- vent declamation. The defect of the poem, and indeed of many of Shelley's other compositions, is a vagueness of meaning often be- coming absolutely unintelligible. The finest and most distinct of his longer poems is Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude. In its blank verse he depicts the sufferings of such a character as his own,— a being of the warmest sympathies, and of the loftiest aspirations, driven into solitude and despair by the ingratitude of his kind, who are incapable of understanding and sympathizing with his aims. Its descriptions are beautiful : woodland and river scenery are painted with a wealth of tropical luxuriance that places Shelley in tho foremost rank among pictorial poets. The Revolt of Islam, llell/is, and The Witch of Atlas, are vio- lent invectives against kingcraft, priestcraft, religion, and marriage, alternating with airy and exquisite pictures of scenes and beings of unearthly splendor. Two important works of Shelley are dramatic in form — Pro- JOHN KEATS. 321 metJieus Unbound and The Cenci. The Prometheus is wild and unintelligible; still it contains passages of beauty and sublimity. It breathes hostility to social systems, and love for humanity in the abstract. Many of the descriptive passages are sublime ; and bursts of lyric harmony alternate with the wildest personifications and the strongest invective. The Cenci is founded on the famous crime of Beatrice di Cenci. Driven to parricide by the wicked- ness of her father, she suffered the penalty of death at Rome. In spite of several powerful and striking scenes, the piece is of a morbid and unpleasing character, though the language is vigorous. Shelley had a desperate hostility to marriage ; and his narrative poem of Rosalind and Helen is an elaborate plea against that insti- tution. In the poem of Adonais he has given us a touching lament on the early death of Keats. One of the most imaginative, and at the same time one of the obscurest, of Shelley's poems is The Sensi- tive Plant. It combines the qualities of mystery and fancifulness to the highest degree, perpetually stimulating the reader with a desire to penetrate the meaning symbolized in the brilliant description of the garden and the plant. Many of his detached lyrics are of inexpressible beauty. The Ode to a Skylark (283) breathes the very rapture of the bird's soaring song. Wild and picturesque imagery abounds in the poem of The Cloud. John Keats (1796-1821) was born in Moorfields, London, and, in his fifteenth year, was apprenticed to a surgeon. During his apprenticeship he devoted most of his time to poetry, and in 1817, he published a juvenile volume. His long poem, Endymion, fol- lowed in 1818 (289)- It was severely censured by The Quarterly Review, and the attack has been erroneously described as the cause of his death. He had a constitutional tendency to consumption, which would have developed itself under any circumstances. For the recovery of his health he went to Home, where he died. In the previous year he had published another volume of poems, and a fragment of his remarkable poem entitled Hyperion (287)- It was the misfortune of Keats to be either extravagantly praised or unmercifully condemned. What is most remarkable in his works is the wonderful profusion of figurative language, often exquisitely beautiful and luxuriant, but sometimes fantastical and far-fetched. One word, one image, one rhyme suggests another, 322 CAMPBELL, nu\T. till we lose sight of the original idea, smothered in its own luxuri- ance. Keats deserves high praise for one very original merit: he has treated the classical mythology in a way absolutely new, representing the Pagan deities not as mere abstractions of art, nor as mere creatures of popular belief, but giving them passions and affections like our own, though highly purified and idealized. In Hyperion, in the Ode to Pan (which appears in "Endymion"), in the Verses on a Grecian Urn (288), we find a strain of classic imagery, combined with a perception of natural loveliness inex- pressibly rich and delicate. If we consider his extreme youth and delicate health, his solitary and interesting self-instruction, the severity of the attacks made upon him by hostile and powerful critics, and, above all, the original richness and picturesqueness of his conceptions and imagery, even when they run to waste, he appears to be one of the greatest of young poets. Thomas Campbell (1777-1844) was born at Glasgow, and was educated at the University in that city, where he distinguished himself by his translations from the Greek poets. In his twenty- second year, he published his Pleasures of Hope (290)i and w is encouraged by having it received with hearty enthusiasm. Shortly afterwards he traveled abroad, where the warlike scenes he wit- nessed, and the battle-fields he visited, suggested several noble lyrics. To the seventh edition of The Pleasures of Hope, published in 1802, were added the verses on the battle of Hohenlinden (293), Ye Mariners of England (232); the most popular of his songs, and LocltieVs Warning. In the following year he settled in London, married, and began in earnest the pursuit of literature as a pro- fession. In 1843 he retired to Boulogne, where he died in the following year. His body was returned to England and interred in Westminster Abbey. In the circle of poets with Byron, Shelley, and Keats, outliving them by many years, the names of Leigh Hunt and Walter StYagQ Landor must be mentioned. James Henry Leigh Hunt (1784-i859) wa9 born at Southgate, Middlesex, and received his education at Christ's Hospital. In 1805 fre joined his brother in editing a paper called The Neic*. and shortly afterwards established The Examiner. A conviction for HUNT, LANDOR. 323 libel on the Prince Regent detained him in prison for two years. Soon after leaving prison he published the Story of Rimini, an Italian tale in verse (1816), containing some exquisite poetry. About 1818 he started The Indicator, a weekly paper, in imitation of The Spectator ; and in 1822 he went to Italy, to assist Lord Byron and Shelley in their projected paper called The Liberal. Shelley died soon after Hunt's arrival in Italy ; and though Hunt was kindly received by Byron, and lived for a time in his house, there was no congeniality between them. Returning to England, he continued to write for periodicals, and published various poems. His poetry is graceful, sprightly, and full of fancy. Although not possessing much soul and emotion, here and there his verse is lit up with wit, or glows with tenderness and grace. His prose writ- ings consist of essays, collected under the titles of The Indicator and The Companion ; Sir Ralph Esther, a novel ; The Old Court Suburb ; his lives of Wycherley, Congreve, Vanbrugh, and Farquhar, prefixed to his edition of their dramatic writings. Walter Savage Landor (1775-1864) entered Rugby at an early age, and thence went to Trinity College, Oxford ; but he left the University without a degree. As a poet be stands with Leigh Hunt between the age of Scott and Byron and the age of Tenny- son and Browning. In 1795 his first work — a volume of poems — appeared, followed early in the present century by a translation into Latin of Gebir, one of his own English poems. Landor had facility in classical composition, and he appeared to have the power of transporting himself into the times and sentiments of Greece and Rome. This is clearly seen in the Heroic Idyls in Latin verse ; and the reproduction of Greek thought in The Hellenics is one of the most successful attempts of its kind. Shortly after the death of his father, the poet took up his abode on the Continent, where he resided during the rest of his life, making occasional visits to his native country. The republican spirit which led him to take part as a volunteer in the Spanish rising of 1808 continued to burn fiercely to the last. He even went so far as to defend tyrannicide, and boldly offered a pension to the widow of any one who would murder a despot. Between 1820 and 1830 he was engaged upon his greatest work, Imaginary Conversations of Literary Men and Statesmen. This was followed in 1831 by Poems, Letters by a 324 THOMAS HOOD. Conservative, Satire on Satirists (1836), Pentameron and Pentalojui (1837), and a long series in prose and poetry, of which the chief are The Hellenics Enlarged and Completed, Dry Sticks Fagoted, and The Last Fruit off an Old Tree. He died at Florence, an exile from his country, misunderstood by the majority of his countrymen, but highly appreciated by those who could rightly estimate the works he has left. Thomas Hood (1798-1845) has unfortunately been regarded only as a humorist ; but " pathos, sensibility, indignation against wrong, enthusiasm for human improvement — all these were his." f His pen touched alike the springs of laughter and the sources of tears." He was associated with the brilliant circle who contributed to The London Magazine ; among whom were Lamb, llazlitt, the Smiths, and De Quincey. His magazine articles were followed by Whims and Oddities. Hood became at once a popular writer ; but in the midst of his success a business house failed, involving him in its losses. The poet, disdaining to take refuge in bankruptcy, emulated the example of Scott, and determined by the economy of a life in Germany to pay off the debt thus involuntarily contracted. In 1835 the family took up their residence in Coblenz; thence removed toOstend; and returned to London in 1840. lie was editor of the New Monthly from 1841 until 1843, when the first number of his own Magazine was issued. A pension was obtained for him in 1844 ; and he died in the following year. Hood has given little indication of the highest imaginative faculty; but his fancy was delicate, and full of graceful play. He possessed in a remarkable degree the power of perceiving the ridiculous and the odd. His words seemed to break up into the queerest syllables. His wit was caustic; it was never coarse. An impurity even in suggestion cannot be found in Hood's pa With the humor was associated a tender pathos. The Death-bed (323) is one of the most affecting little poems in uva language, and is equaled by another of his balinds entitled Lon'x Fcli/>i«\ Amongst liis larger works, the Pint <>f (he MtdiHnmur Ftiru's and Hero and Leander, are the most elaborate. The descriptive parts in both are lull of careful observation of nature, and most musical expression of her beauties. The best known of his poems are The Bridge of Sighs (322), Fwjene Aram, and the Song of the Shirt. In BR OWNINfi. 325 them the comic element is entirely wanting. His poems usually have a blending of humor and pathos; and in their humor there is an earnest purpose. " He tempts men to laugh, and then leads them to pity and relieve.'' Elizabeth Barrett Browning. The most eminent poet among women is Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1809-1861). She was the daughter of a wealthy merchant of London, and by good fortune received what had been allowed to few of her sex, a good educa- tion. In the Latin and Greek literature she was well versed. The delicacy of her health prevented her from doing the toilsome work of the most laborious students ; yet her acquirements were so great, that in her youth she was as famous for her learning as for her genius. Illness did not keep her from books. By a varied and extensive course of reading, and by her meditation, she prepared herself for her place among the poets. Her first acknowledged work was a translation of the Pwmetheus Bound, published in 1833. Next appeared a collection of poems, in 1844. In 1846 she was married to Robert Browning, and went with him to Italy for the improvement of her health. From that time her sympathies with Italian aspirations were so intense that they colored nearly all of her writings. Her Casa Guidi Windows gives her impressions of what she saw of Italian life from her home, the Casa Guido, in Florence. Her greatest work, and in the estimation of some critics the finest poem of the present century, is Aurora Leigh. This she herself pronounces " the most mature of my works, and the one into which my highest convictions upon Life and Art have entered." In 1856 she left England for the last time, dying at Florence in 1861. This woman of emotion, of thought, of devout spirit, shut in her darkened chamber, reading "almost every book worth reading in almost every language,'' mingling with a few friends, her heart going forth in sympathy with the wretched and down-trodden, gathered up her strength and put her soul into her verse, now with all the passion of Aurora Leigh, and now in tenderer sonnets full of pathos and love. It is not to be wondered at, that some of her writing has been called spasmodic. Mrs. Browning has not the calm, unfailing flow of thought and feeling found in Tennyson, her only modern superior in England. Her style is often rugged, unfinished, and at times utterly without rhythm. 62b HEM AN S. The sadness pervading all the writings of Mrs. Browning is what might be expected from such a life as hers. Her own idea of the poet's work seems to bear this view : " Poetry has been as serious a thing to me as life itself; and life has been a very serious thing. I never mistook pleasure for the final cause of poetry, nor leisure for the hour of the poet.'' From such a view of poetry and life, we cannot wonder at the moral purpose found in all her writing (324)- Mrs. Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1793-1835) has written poems that are extensively read. Her subjects find a ready admission to the hearts of all classes. The style is graceful, but presenting, as Scott said, " too many flowers for the fruit." There is little intil- lectual or emotional force about her poetry, and the greater part of it will soon be forgotten. A few of the smaller pieces will per- haps remain as English gems, such as The Graves of a Household. and the Homes of England (321). Iii this chapter we have considered:— 1. Lord By roil. a. Childe Harold. b. His Dramatic Works. c. Don Juan, d. Angus's Esti mate of Byron. 2. Thomas Moore. a. His Poetry, h. IDs Proem Writings, 8* Percy Busslie Shelley. 4, John Keats. 5. Thomas Campbell. a. James Henry heigh Hunt. 7. Walter Savage Lander, 8. Thomas Uood. it. Elizabeth Barrett Browning* JO. Mrs. Felicia Dorothea Uemans, CHAPTER XXVI. HE LAKE SCHOOL— WORDSWORTH, COLERIDGE AND SOUTHEY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. "Him who uttered nothing base."— Alfred Tennyson. " I do not know a man more to be venerated for uprightness of heart and lofti- ness of genius. 1 ' — Walter Scott. " To feel for the first time a communion with his mind, is to discover loftier faculties in our own."— Thomas N. Talfourd. " Whatever the world may think of me or of my poetry is now of little conse- quence ; but one thing is a comfort of my old age, that none of my works written since the days of my early youth, contains a line which I should wish to blot out because it panders to the baser passions of our nature. This is a comfort to me ; I can do no mischief by my works when I am gone."— William Wordsworth. "TT T"ILLIAM WORDSWORTH (1770-1850). the founder of the V V so-cailed Lake School of poetry, was born in the north of England (294300)- He was left an orphan very early in life. In his ninth year he was sent to a school at Hawkshead, in the most picturesque district of Lancashire, where his love for the beauties of creation was rapidly developed. Atter taking his degree at Cambridge in 1791, he went to France, and eagerly embraced the ideas of the champions of liberty in that country. His political sentiments, however, became gradually modified, till in later life they settled down into steady conservatism in all questions of church and state. In 1793 he published two little poems, An Evening Walk, and Descriptive Sketches. Their metre and language are of the school of Pope; but they are the work of a promising pupil, and not of a master. In the following year he completed the story of Salisbury PI tin ; or, Guilt and Sorrow. In regard to time it is separated from the Descriptive Sketches by a span, but \n merit they are parted by a gulf, lie had ceased to write in the 328 WORDSWORTH. style of Pope; and composed in the stanza of his later favorite, Spenser. There is an exquisite simplicity and polish in the lan- guage. In his twenty-sixth year, just as he was finding it necessary to (Miter some regular business for the purpose of earning a liveli- hood, he found himself placed in what was affluence to him, by receiving a legacy of £900 from his friend Raisley Calvert, with the request that he would devote himself to literary work. Thoughts of the law, and attempts to earn money by writing for the news- papers were abandoned. He settled with his sister in a quiet country place in Somersetshire, and began his long devotion to the muse. His second experiment was the tragedy of The Borderers, a work considered an unqualified failure when it first appeared. In 1797 Coleridge went to live in the neighborhood, and formed a close friendship with Wordsworth and his sister. The following year they started on a tour in Germany. To furnish funds for the journey they published a volume together, entitled Lyrical Ballads. The first poem was Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, and the other pieces were by Wordsworth. Of these, three or four were in Wordsworth's finest manner ; but they did not save his name from ridicule and censure. Returning to England, Wordsworth and his sister settled at Grasmere, in the Lake District. Coleridge and Southey resided near them. From this fact they came to be spoken of as the Lake School. The name, originally applied contemptuously, came to be the distinguishing title of these friends. Wordsworth now set himself to work to inculcate his peculiar views of poetry. Not disheartened by the unpopularity of his first attempt, he promptly issued a new edition of Lyrical Ballads, adding thirty-seven phces to the original collection. At this time he was working on I Mo- graphical poem, Tfie Prelude, published a half-cent ury after its composition. A debt of £8500 due to his father at the time of his death, was paid to the poet in 1802. This increase of his fortune enabled him U) marry. In 1807 he published two new volumes of Poems, con- taining the Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle, and many more of his choicest pieces. Here appeared his ftnM sonnets, and several of them arc still ranked among his happiest efforts. Wordsworth's next publication was in prose. His indignation arose at the grasp- ing tyranny of Napoleon ; and in 1809 he put forth a pamphlet WORDSWORTH. , 329 against the Convention of Cintra. The sentiments were stirring, but the manner of conveying them was not, and his protest passed unheeded. His great work, The Excursion, appeared in 1814. This is a fragment of a projected great moral epic, discussing the mightiest questions concerning God, nature, and man, our moral constitution, our duties, and our hopes. Its dramatic interest is exceedingly small ; its structure is very faulty ; and the characters represented in it are devoid of life and probability. On the other hand, so sublime are the subjects discussed, so lofty is their tone, and so deep a glow of humanity is perceptible throughout, that no honest reader can study this composition without reverence and delight. The White Doe of Rylstone, published in 1815, is Wordsworth's only narrative poem of any length. The incidents are of a simple and mournful kind. Peter Bell was published in 1819, and was received with a shout of ridicule. The poet stated in the dedica- tion that the work had been completed twenty years, and that he had continued correcting it in the interval to render it worthy of a permanent place in our national literature. It is meant to be serious, and is certainly not facetious, but there is so much farcical absurdity of detail and language that the reader revolts. Between 1830 and 1840 the tide which floated him into favor rose to its height. Scott and Byron had in succession entranced the world. They had now withdrawn, and no third king arose to demand homage. It was in the lull that the less thrilling notes of the Lake bard obtained a hearing. It was during this time that he pub- lished his Ecclesiastical Sonnets and Yarrow Revisited : and in 1842 he brought forth a complete collection of his poems. His fame was now firmly established. On the death of Southey in 1843 he was made Poet Laureate. He died April 23, 1850, when he had just completed his eightieth year. The Defects and Merits of His Poetry. The poetry of Words- worth has passed through two phases of criticism ; in the first his defects were chiefly noted, and in the second his merits. We have arrived at the third era, when the majority of readers are just to both. A fair estimate of Wordsworth's poetry is given by an acute writer in the Quarterly Review : * " It is constantly asserted that * Vol. XCII., p. 233, seq. 330 WO It I) S WORTH. he effected a reform in the language of poetry, that he found the public bigoted to a vicious and flowery diction, which seemed t'» mean a great deal and really meant nothing, and that he led then back to sense and simplicity. The claim appears to us to be a fanciful assumption, refuted by the facts of literary history. Feebler poetasters were no doubt read when Wordsworth began to write than would now command an audience, however small ; but they had no real hold upon the public, and Cowper was the only popular bard of the day. His masculine and unadorned English was relished in every cultivated circle in the land, and Wordsworth was the child and not the father of a reaction, which, after all, has been greatly exaggerated. Goldsmith was the most celebrated of Cowper's immediate predecessors, and it will not be pretended that The Deserted Village and The Traveller are amoug the specimens of inane phraseology. Burns had died before Wordsworth had attracted notice. Th« wonderful Peasant's performances were ad- mired by none more than by Wordsworth himself: were they not already far more popular than the Lake-poet's have ever b ecfl > oreverwiHbe? .... Whatever influence Wordsworth may have exercised on poetic style, be it great or small, was by deviat- ing in practice from the principles of composition for which be contended. Both his theory, and the poems which illustrate it. continue to this hour to be all but universally condemned. He resolved to write as the lower orders talked; and though where the poor are the speakers it would be in accordance with strict dramatic propriety, the system would not be tolerated in serious poetry. Wordsworth's rule did not stop at the wording of dia- logues. He maintained that the colloquial language of rustic MMtt the most philosophical and enduring which the dictionary affords. and the fittest for verse of every description When his finest verse is brought to the test of his principle, they agree no better than light and darkness. Here is his way of describing the effects of the pealing organ in King's College Chapel, with its 'self-poised roof, scooped Into ten thousand cells: ' 1 But from the arms of silence— list 1 O list - The made burstcth into second lit".' ; The note* luxuriate, every itone is kissed Willi -omul, orgBOel of sound in mazy strife!' This is to write like a splendid poet, but it is not to write as ru* WORDSWORTH, COLERIDGE. .331 tics talk. A secoud canon laid down by Wordsworth was, that poetic diction is, or ought to be, in all respects the same with the language of prose ; and as prose has a wide range, and numbers among its triumphs such luxuriant eloquence as that of Jeremy Taylor, the principle, if just, would be no less available for the advocates of ornamental verse than for the defence of the homely style of the Lyrical Ballads. But the proposition is certainly too broadly stated ; and, though the argument holds good for the ad- versary, because the phraseology which is not too rich for prose can never be considered too tawdry for poetry, yet it will not war- rant the conclusions of Wordsworth, that poetry should never rise above prose, or disdain to descend to its lowest level." The following references note interesting discussions of Wordsworth and hid poetry: Reed's British Poets, Lecture XV.,— Wilson, in the British Essayists,— The North American Beview,Vo\. C, p. 508,— Craik's English Literature and Language, Vol. II., p. 453,— De Quincey's Essays on the Poets,— Coleridge's Biographia Lit- eraria, Chap. XIV.,— Hazlitt's Lectures on the English Poets,— Jeffrey, in the British Essayists,— Talfourd, in the British Essayists,— Taine's English Literature, Vol. n. Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834). Carlyle paints Cole- ridge's portrait in these words : " Brow 7 and head were round and of massive weight ; but the face was flabby and irresolute. The deep eyes, of a light hazel, were as full of sorrow as of inspiration ; confused pain looked mildly from them, as in a kind of mild astonishment. The whole figure and air, good and amiable other- wise, might be called flabby and irresolute ; expressive of weakness under possibility of strength. He hung loosely on his limbs, with knees bent, and stooping attitude ; in walking, he rather shuffled than decisively stepped ; and a lady once remarked, he never could fix which side of the garden-w T alk would suit him best, but con- tinually shifted, in cork-screw fashion, and kept trying both. A heavy-laden, high-aspiring, and surely much-suffering man." This strange man had a strange childhood. At three years old he read the Bible ; at six he had devoured " Belisarius," "Robinson Crusoe," "Philip Quarll," and the *? Arabian Nights." In 1782 he was entered as a pupil at Christ's Hospital, where, though he won the position of Senior Grecian, or first scholar, his life was, on the whole, a dreary one. He spent his time in moping and reading. 332. COLERIDGE. By turns the restless energy and roving inclination of the inspired 44 Charity boy " settled upon shoemaking, surgery, and metaphysics a3 a mean? of escaping school and getting a living; but the judi- cious Doctor Bowyer flogged out each determination, with an extra cut for his being such an ugly fellow. In 1791 he went to Jesu9 College, Cambridge. A debt of less than £100 drove him from the University in the second year. He enlisted in the dragoons, under the name of Comberbacke. After four months 1 service, his friends procured his discharge, and he returned to Cambridge, leaving again in June, 1794, without taking a degree. He formed a friend- ship with Southey, and together they planned a model republic, to be located on the Susquehanna and called the " Pantisocracy " ; but when it was found that not one of the directors could pay his passage to America, the plan was abandoned. In 1795 he married Miss Sarah Flicker, a sister of Southey 's wife, and during the first three years of his marriage, he lived in Wordsworth's neighbor- hood. In 1796 he took opium to allay severe neuralgic pain, and this laid the foundation of a habit which was to exert a baneful influence over his life. To this period belong the ten numbers of the Watchman and the publication of the Juvenile Poems. In 17!>S he wrote his share in the Lyrical Ballads. About this time, the Wedgwoods, of Staffordshire, settled on him £150 a year for life. This made him independent of the " bread-and-cheese question" and enabled him to visit Germany, where he studied the language and heard lectures at GOttingen. After his return he went to live in the Lake District, near Wordsworth and Southey. In 1804 he went to Malta for his health, and became confirmed in the use of opium. From 1801 to 1816 he produced only one work of im- portance, The Friend, a periodical which appeared in numbers from June, 1809, to March, 1810. In 1814 he tried to lecture in Bristol, but he was completely under the dominion of opium, and was unable to command his pow T ers, or meet his engagements. He struggled against his infirmity with all the force which his nerve- less will could bring to bear; but the odds were hard against him. He wrote in reply to the remonstrances of his old friend and pub- lisher, Cottle : " You have poured oil in the raw and festering wounds of an old friend's conscience, Cottle 1 but it is oil v\" vitriol!" ''I have prayed, with drops of agony on my brow, trembling not only before the justice of my Master, but even be for* COLERIDGE. 333 the mercy of my Redeemer : ' I gave thee so many talents ; what hast thou done with them?'" At last he became convinced that single-handed he was unequal to the struggle, and in 1816, he took up his residence in the house of Mr. Gillman, a physician, where he died July 25, 1834. It ought never to be forgotten that the struggles of the man were often responsible for the sins of the author. At fifteen, Cole- ridge was a master of abstract thought, but had lost the ability to tread in beaten paths — to use common methods ; at twenty-four, he displayed wonderful powers of genius, but they soon passed into the long eclipse of a diseased will. And yet, from fifteen years old to the day of his death, this weak character, this irresolute man, was a power in his own country and age ; nor has his influ- ence been unfelt in ours. The wonderful charm of his conversation, the spell of his enthusiasm, influenced the opinions of all the young men of his day who were worth influencing. Carlyle, Julius Hare, John Sterling, De Quincey, and John Stuart Mill bear testimony to the good which he accomplished in the midst of the disaster of his own life. His Literary Character. The literary character of Coleridge resembles some vast but unfinished palace ; all is gigantic, beautiful and rich, but nothing is complete, nothing compact. He was all his days, from his youth to his death, laboring, meditating, pro- jecting ; and yet all that he has left us bears marks of imperfection. His mind was dreamy, his genius was multiform, many-sided, and for this reason, perhaps, could not at once seize upon the right point of view. No man, probably, ever thought more, and more intensely, than Coleridge ; few ever possessed a vaster treasury of learning and knowledge ; and yet how few of his works are in any way worthy of the undoubted majesty of his genius ! Materials, indeed, he has left us in enormous quantity — a store of thoughts and principles, golden masses of reason, either painfully sifted from the rubbish of obscure and forgotten authors, or dug up from the rich depths of his own mind ; but these are still in the state of raw materials, or only partially worked. But the literary character of Coleridge must be judged by its manifestations in four very different departments of thought, while in each of these departments he has left only fragments by 334 coler I DG B. which to judge him. As poet, critic, philosopher, and theologian, he has added to che force of English thinking and to the beauty of English expression what it could ill afford to lose. The Poet. His poetry seems only a prophecy of what he might have done, and yet some of it is what he alone could do. Fancy, beautiful imagery, exquisite versification, are characteristic of nearly all Coleridge's poems, and now and then a daring flight of hi3 imagination is attended by the boldest measures. The best known of his poems are Religions Musings, Lines on Sunriae in the Valley of Ohamouni, Love, Kubla Khan, The Ancient Mariner, and Christabel. His translation of Wallenstein has the reputation of being the finest translation in the English language ; and yet it fell almost dead from the press in 1799. The Critic. As a critic, Coleridge was the leader in the reaction against the deadening influence of the theories of the eighteenth century. The Edinburgh critics had almost persuaded the English readers to believe that Pope was a better poet than Shakespeare. In such a time, a new and original work needs a doughty cham- pion to defend it against the assaults of criticism. But for Cole- ridge, Wordsworth might have been another Keats. Coleridge was a sympathetic man. In Wordsworth's first attempts, he felt the poetry which Jeffrey could not see, and he set himself at work to find out the principles which must alike underlie his interpre- tations and Jeffrey's rules. These he set in order, and at once magnified the philosophy of criticism and freed literature from the bondage to which such men as Jeffrey had reduced it. Coleridge was the first who taught that a successful criticism of Shakespeare must depend not upon dogmatic judgment, but upon reverent in- vestigation ; and thus he brought it about that Englishmen can admire Shakespeare without the fear of the "dramatic unities" before their eyes. The Philosopher. As a philosopher, Coleridge began by being a materialist and a Whig, — he ended as a follower of Kant and a Tory. His theories of government tad <>l" mental science are eliar- acterized by the same sympathy, the same acuteness, and the same lack of method which mark his other thinking, Mr. Mill praises COLERIDGE, SOU THEY. 335 his philosophy as one of moral goodness, and true insight. The Friend, the Aids to Reflection, the Church and State, and the Lay Sermons, are the sources from which most of his opinions on these subjects are to be gathered. The Theologian. As a theologian, Coleridge made perhaps the most definite and sustained effort of his life ; but his thought is so fine-spun, and his expression is so involved that it is very hard to understand him. In early youth a Unitarian, he came to be a firm believer in all the doctrines of the Evangelical Christian Church. It is in his religious philosophy that he shows his nearest approach to the common method and practical doctrine of ordinary men; for his own experience had taught him that a man's thinking may have little influence on his action. A fragmentary poet, a careless critic, an unscientific philosopher, a mystical theologian, and an irresolute man, " he suffered an almost life-long punishment for his errors, whilst the world at large has the unwithering fruits of his labors, and his genius, and his sufferings." Robert Southey (1774-1843) was born at Bristol, where his father carried on the business of a draper (308^311). At the age of fourteen he was sent to the famous Westminster School. After spending four years there, he was expelled for writing an article against flogging in public schools and publishing it in a periodical conducted by the boys. The following year he went to Oxford. His friends wished him to take orders in the church, but his religious opinions prevented him. He lingered at Oxford, until Coleridge ap- peared with his scheme of " Pantisocracy. 1 ' Quitting Oxford, Southey attempted to raise funds for the enterprise by authorship, and in 1794 published a small volume of poems, which brought neither fame nor profit. His chief reliance, however, was on his epic poem Joan of Arc, for which Joseph Cottle, the patron of Coleridge, offered him fifty guineas. After spending six months in Spain, he returned to England, and in 1795 began a life of patient literary toil. He had from the outset an allowance of one hundred and sixty pounds a year, yet he was constantly on the verge of poverty, and not even his philosophy and hopefulness were always proof against the difficulties of his position. In 1804 he took up his residence in Cumberland, where he continued to reside for the 336 SOUTHET. remainder of his life. Coleridge and Wordsworth were already there. From being a skeptic and a republican, South ey became a firm believer in Christianity, and a staunch supporter of the English Church and Constitution. In 1813 he was appointed poet- laureate; * and in 1835 received a pension of three hundred pounds a year from the government. During the last four years of his life he had sunk into a state of hopeless imbecility. He died March 21, 1843. Southey's industry was prodigious. His life was very quiet, and all his time was given to literary labor. One of his letters to a friend tells how his days were spent: "Three pages of history after breakfast ; then to transcribe and copy for the press, or to make any selections and biographies, or what else suits my humor dll dinner-time. From dinner-time till tea I read, write letters, see the newspaper, and very often indulge in a siesta. After tea [ go to poetry, and correct and re write and copy till I am tired; and then turn to anything else till supper. And this is my life." The list of his writings numbers one hundred and nine volumes. In addition to these he contributed to the Annual Review fifty-two articles, to the Foreign Quarterly three, to the Quarterly ninety-four. The composition of these works was a small part of the labor they Involved : they are all full of research. His Poetry. Southey's success as a poet fell far short of hit ambition. Joan of Arc, a juvenile production, was received with *&vor by most of the critical journals on account of its republican doctrines. Modoc, completed in 1799, was not published till 1805. Upon this poem he was contented to rest his fame. It is founded on one of the legends connected with the early history of America. Madoc, a Welsh prince of the twelfth century, is represented as making the discovery of the Western world. His contests with the Mexicans, and the ultimate conversion of that people from their cruel idolatry, form its main action. Though the poem is crowded with scenes of more than possible splendor, — of more than human cruelty, courage, and superstition, — the effect is languid. Tlutlalm was published in 1801, and the Our$$ <>/ K,h,ima in 1810. Tin first is a tale of Arabian enchantment, full of mtgicitnt, dragons, and monsters; and in the second the poet has selected for his ground- * The honor wa* offered to Walter Scott at this time, and \w declined it. SOUTHEY. 337 work the still more unmanageable mythology of the Hindoos. The poems are written in irregular and wandering rhythm — the Thaldba altogether without rhyme ; and the language abounds in an affected .simplicity, and in obtrusions of vulgar and puerile phraseology. Kehama was followed, at an interval of four years, by Roderick, the Last of the Goths, a poem in blank verse, more modest and credible than its predecessors. The tone of Southey's poems is exaggerated. His personages, like his scenes, have something unreal, phantom-like, dream'y about them. His robe of inspiration sits gracefully and majestically upon him, but it is too voluminous in its folds, and too heavy in its texture for the motion of real existence. His Prose. Southey's prose works are valuable on account of their learning. The Life of Nelson (311), written to furnish young seamen with a simple narrative of the exploits of England's great- est naval hero, has perhaps never been surpassed for the perfection of its style. In his principal works— The Boole of the Church, The Lives of the British Admirals, The Life of Wesley, a History of Brazil, and a History of the Peninsular War — we find the same clear, vigor- ous English ; we find also the strong prejudice and political and literary partiality, which detract from his many excellent qualities as a writer and as a man. In this chapter we have considered: — The Lake School — Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey. 1. William Wordsworth. a. The Defects and Merits of His Poetry. 2. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. a. His Literary Character. b. The Poet. c. The Critic. d. The Philosopher. e. The Theologian. S. Robert Southey. a. His Poetry. b. His Prose, 1$ CHAPTHB XXYH. THE ENGLISH LITERATURE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. ^IHE early years of the present century were years of conflict and excitement. The mind was wrought to the highest pitch, now of fear, and now of triumph. England fought for the liberties of Europe; at times the struggle seemed to be for her own exist- ence. The literature of a people always reflects something of the prevalent tone of its age, and we may therefore expect to find the chief compositions of the first thirty years of this century marked by intense feeling. There is no other age in English history which exhibits such an array of masters of song. At the close of the reign of George III., in 1820, there were living in England ten poets whose writings commanded the attention of all English readers. Then Crabbe, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Southey, Scott, Campbell, Moore, Byron, Shelley, and Keats were stars in the literary firma- ment. They gave voice to the passionate states of the mind of society which demand expression in song. " The Victorian age" following this group of poets is distinguished by an unusual num- ber of dignified writers of prose. The calmer inquiries into politics, philosophy, art, and physical science, have been prosecuted ii. the more tranquil period. Poetry is the earlier expression of every literature. The first writers whose works are preserved are the writers of verse. The rhythm of their song, the pictures of their excited fancy, the stories they tell, catch and enchain the popular attention. Until our cen- tury, the patronage of the English court, the heanie-t sympathies of the English scholar, and the applause of the people had been given to the writer of song. Prose is now in the ascendant over poetry. An h'ustration of the fact is at hand. Two elaborate works were recently published in England : both written to face the test of scholarly criticism, and to gain the interest of the THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 339 common readers. One is in prose; it gives strange opinions on puzzling historical questions, and packs twelve duodecimo volumes. The other has the fascination of rhythmic verse, of scholarship, of mythical story, and has conceded to it a high place among the masterly poems of the century. But Morris's Earthly Paradise has a limited sale, and comparatively few readers; while every public library, and thousands of private libraries, have well-thumbed copies of Froude's History of England. It is not that the culture of the poet has declined ; the tact of the writer of prose and the though tfulness of the masses of readers have improved. Spenser, Milton and Byron are not read as they once were. What has brought about the change ? There is the same lofty theme, there is the same resounding line, there is the same poetic inspiration. But the taste and thought of the readers have changed. They are in sympathy with what -is called the practical spirit of the age. They lead to the instructive novel, to books of travel, to biography, to history. They compel readers to seek for information, as well as for entertainment and elegant culture in literature. Forces which have wrought this change in popular thought and taste should be noted. (1.) The newspaper, the mightiest social force of this century, by publishing the interesting facts of the day, has created a desire for information, and has led thoughtful people to search after knowledge of facts in history, in commerce, in geography. (2.) The growth of manufactures, and the improve- ments in the methods of agriculture, by increasing the number of prosperous workmen has increased the number of alert thinkers. (3.) Extended intervals of peace havebeen favorable to the sobriety of national thought. (4.) The general acquaintance of English scholars with the thought and literature of other nations has broadened and deepened the English thinking. And (5.) fitted to the more practical thought of our time, is the fact that the writers of the previous century had developed an artistic style in prose, so that the prose-writers of to-day have at their command such charms of expression as were not dreamed of even in the days of John Milton and Jeremy Taylor. The writers of this century, then, are supplying what is de- manded by an increasing number of thoughtful readers, and in so doing, are marking out a literary epoch. The chief external influence has come from Germany. Coleridge introduced it largely, 340 THE NEW LITERATURE OF HISTORY. and he has been followed in the work by Thomas Carlyle. In former pages we have spoken of the Elizabethan age as under Italian influence, of the Augustan age as under French influence, and our age, doubtless, will be regarded by the future historian as the age of German influence. The New Literature of History. During this century greater progress has been made in History than in any other department of letters. A new impulse was given to the study by the publica- tion of the first volume of Niebuhr's Roman History in Germany, in 1811. This remarkable work taught scholars not only to esti- mate more accurately the value of the original authorities, but also to enter more fully into the spirit of antiquity, and to think and feel as the Romans felt and thought. In the treatment of Modern History the advance has been equally striking. An historical sense has grown up. A writer on any period of modern history is now expected to produce in support of his facts the testimony of credi- ble contemporary witnesses ; while the public records of most of the great European nations, now rendered accessible to students, have imposed upon historians a labor, and opened sources of in- formation, quite unknown to the historical writers of the preceding century. Bishop Connop Thirlwall and George Grote are the most eminent English writers upon Ancient History, both having produced Histories of Greece, superior to any existing in other European languages. Thirlwall's work is dry and unattractive to the general reader; but it is scientific, thorough, ami liberal in its spirit. Grote's history was written under peculiar circumstances. The author was a banker, and during part of his career he was an active radical politician. His sentiments were democratic, and his sympathies, throughout his work, arc heartily enlisted on the side of the Athenian democracy. He had not receired a university education. While a clerk in a banking-house, he set himself at work to master the Greek language and literature, to make himself a scholar in Greek geography, antiquities and history. His toil- some work was so well done that :ill readers came to look upon him as the most competent of Englishmen to deal with Grecian history and letters. MACAULAY. 841 Lord Macaulay. The most versatile writer of the century ia Thomas Babington Macaulay (1800-1859). In descriptive poetry (325), in criticism, in essay-writing, in political papers, in oratory, and especially in historical narration, he has shown himself to be a master. He was born in England, but his lineage was Scotch. His father, Zachary Macaulay, a merchant, was an ardent philam thropist and one of the earliest opponents of the slave trade. At Cambridge, Macaulay won high honors. Leaving the university, he began the study of the law, but, while at his books, he sud- denly achieved a literary reputation by an article on 1825.] Milton (341) in the Edinburgh Review. This was the first of a long series of brilliant literary and historical essays contributed to the same periodical. His career as a statesman was brilliant, but it is as a man of letters that his name will be longest remembered. His Lays of Ancient Borne are the best known of his poems ; but the lines written upon his defeat at Edinburgh in 1847 are the finest. His Essays and his History will always give him a high place among English classics. His style has been well described by Dean Milman. " Its characteristics were vigor and animation, copiousness, clearness ; above all, sound English, now a rare excel- lence. The vigor and life were unabating ; perhaps in that con' scious strength which cost no exertion, he did not always gauge and measure the force of his own words His copious- ness had nothing tumid, diffuse, Asiatic ; no ornament for the sake of ornament. As to its clearness, one may read a sentence of Ma- caulay twice to judge of its full force, never to comprehend its meaning. His English was pure, both in idiom and in words, pure to fastidiousness ; . . . . every word must be genuine English, nothing that approached real vulgarity, uothing that had not the stamp of popular use, or the authority of sound English writers, nothing unfamiliar to the common ear." Macaulay's Essays (341, 342) are philosophical and historical disquisitions, embracing a vast range of subjects ; but the larger number, and the most important, relate to English History. These Essays, however, were only preparatory to his History of England. In the opening chapter of that grand work, he says : " I purpose to write the History of England from the accession of King James the Second down to a time which is in the memory of men stilL 842 HALL AM. living.' 1 His purpose was not carried out, for the narrative ii brought down only to the death of William the Third, and the latter portion of what is written is fragmentary. In a review of Sir James Mackintosh's History of tlie Revolution, Macaulay observed that a " History of England, written throughout in this manner would be the most fascinating book in the language. It would be more in request at the circulating libraries than the last novel." The unexampled popularity of his own History verified the prediction. Henry Hallam (17*8-1859) (337), though inferior in graces of style, was superior to Lord Macaulay as a judicial historian. He was one of the early contributors to the Edinburgh Review. His criticism in that journal, in 1808, of Sir Walter Scott's edition of Dryden's works was marked by that power of discrimination and impartial judgment which characterized all his subsequent writings. The result of his long-continued studies first appeared in his View of the State of Europe during the Middle Ages, published in 1818, exhibiting, in a series of historical dissertations, a compre- hensive survey of the chief circumstances that cau interest a philosophical inquirer during the period usually denominated the Middle Ages. Mr. Hallam's next work was The Constitutional His- tory of England from the Accession of Henry VII to the Heath of Qeorge II, published in 1827 ; and his third great production was An Introduction to the Literature of Europe, in the Fifteenth, Six- teenth, and Seventeenth Centuries, which appeared in 1837-39. His latter years were saddened by the loss of his two sons, the eldest of whom is the subject of Tennyson's In Memoriatu. An estimate of Hallam's literary merits has been given by Ma- caulay, his illustrious contemporary, in a review of the Constitu- tional History: "Mr. Hallam is, on the whole, far better qualified than any other writer of our time for the office which he has under- taken. He has great industry and gnat acuteness. His knowledge is extensive, varied, and profound. His mind is equally distin- guished by the amplitude of its grasp, and by the delicacy of ita tact His work is eminently judicial. The whole spirit is that of the bench, not that of the bar. He sums up with a calm, steady impartiality, turning neither to the right nor to tue MILMAN, BUCKLE. 343 left, glossing over nothing, exaggerating nothing, while the advo- cates on both sides are alternately biting their lips to hear their conflicting misstatements and sophisms exposed. On a general survey, we do not scruple to pronounce the Constitutional History the most impartial book that we have ever read." Henry Hart Milman. The oft-repeated reproach once directed against the English people, that Gibbon was their only ecclesiasti- cal historian, has been removed by Henry Hart Milman (1791-1868), Dean of St. Paul's, one of the best-balanced and most highly culti- vated intellects that England has produced. For many years he held the professorship of Poetry at Oxford, and at different times he published The Martyr of Antioch, the Fall of Jerusalem, and other poems. Fazio, and the Fall of Jerusalem, both dramas, are perhaps the most meritorious. But it is upon his historical pro- ductions that his fame rests. The History of the Jews, the History of Christianity, and the History of Latin Christianity, have taken their place among English classics. Certain indispensable qualities • of a great historian, — a mind free from prejudice, keen critical sagacity, and a faculty for determining the value of evidence— were possessed by him to a remarkable degree. He grappled with a subject extending over a vast period of time, and a wide area of human activity, and dealing with the subtlest and most intricate phenomena. His themes present difficulties from which any but the boldest would shrink. Henry Thomas Buckle (1821-1862) was the son of a prosperous merchant. As a child he was delicate in health, and backward in hia studies. At his own request, he was taken from school in his fourteenth year. From this time his education was carried on by means of foreign travel and reading. The death of his father, in 1840, had left him in independent circumstances. The influence of his mother combined with a peculiar self-confidence to awaken in Buckle a literary ambition to which he consistently devoted his life. At the age of nineteen, the idea of his history was already dimly before his mind, and he set about preparing himself for its execution by studying the literature and languages of the countries through which he traveled. In 1850 he knew nineteen languages / and in seven qf them he could talk or write with ease. The tint 344 BUCKLE. volume of the History of Oivilization in England, was published in 1857 at the author's expense, the second in 1801. The book met with quick success. It attracted readers by the clearness and beauty of the style, as well as by the novelty of its views. The obscure author became an object of public curiosity ; his book was the topic of discussion in all the leading Reviews. Indeed, the number and variety of objections urged against his arguments, served the somewhat remarkable purpose of answering each other; and while the critics were wrangling, the book was reprinted in America and smuggled into Russia. But Mr. Buckle's real claim to lasting fame is not based upon his popularity, nor upon the striking character of his opinions, but upon the purpose of his work. It was an attempt to bring to a focus, and to put into elaborate and scientific form the scattered theories and vague guesses which, until his day, had been all that there was of a science of history. The book is open to many criticisms; its argument is often inadequate ; its statements inaccurate. Two facts should be kept in mind while studying Buckle, or when attempting to form a just estimate of his work in literature: First, he is dealing with generalizations, which he applies only to the mass of mankind, while he avowedly leaves the individual out of account. Nearly all the criticism urged against him, as an opponent of religious belief and moral conduct, is due to a misapprehension of his true position in this respect. Secondly, his work is but a fragment of a fragment — only two volumes in the civilization of one country, when his original plan had been for the history of civilization itself; be was working at a great disadvantage in having to collect and compile his evidence himself, and detailed criticism of this frag- ment is made possible only through the impetus which it gave to the science of statistics. Besides the llixtory, Mr. Buckle has written a lecture on the "Influence of Women on the Progi Knowledge," delivered before the Royal Institution, 185S, ami a review of Mill's Essay on Liberty. From the age of nineteen he worked with untiring industry, until the strain of intense applica- tion, joined to constant attacks of sickness, and to grief for the death of his mother, made it necessary for him to try change oi scene. In October, 1861, Buckle left England for Alexandria. Continuing his journey he died in Palestine, in May, 18G2. THE LITERATURE OE PHILOSOPHY THE LITERATURE OF PHILOSOPHY. Many contributions have been made to the English literature ol Philosophy during the period under consideration. The centers of philosophical influence have been at the Universities of Glas- gow and Edinburgh in Scotland, at Oxford and Cambridge in England. In later years the scientific schools of Sheffield and Birmingham have made their influence felt, as one after another their graduates have been rewarded for their industry by distinc- tion at home and abroad. The Scottish School The thinking of the Scottish philosophers of this century is a protest against the skepticism which was preva- lent in religion and philosophy during the eighteenth century. This Scottish thinking presents very little that is striking or original. Certain well-defined features, however, are character- istic, to a greater or less extent, of all the writers of this school. They adopt systematically the method of induction, they pursue their investigation by means of consciousness, and they believe in the existence of principles prior to and independent of experience. The practical merit of the school lies in the fact that it once more enlisted talent and scholarship on the side of morality and religion. Thomas Reid (1710-1796), the best representative of the Scot- tish school, lived in the last century. His life was a singularly quiet one. At the age of twelve he entered Marischal College, Aberdeen, and was graduated in 1726. He remained in the college as its librarian for ten years, spending his time in hard study. In 1737 he took charge of a country parish. At the age of thirty- eight, he published in the Transactions of the Royal Society of London, An Essay on Quantity. In 1752 he was elected to the chair of Moral Philosophy in King's College, where he was influen- tial in bringing about many improvements in the system of uni- versity education. The professorship of Moral Philosophy in the University of Glasgow was given to him in 1763. The following year the Inquiry into the Human Mind on the Principles of Common Sense was published, and at once fixed his reputation and deter- mined the course of subsequent Scottish Philosophy. Occasional 346 STEWART. essays and reviews in the publications of the Glasgow Literary Society are all that he wrote before 1785, when his Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man appeared, followed by Essays on the Active Powers in 1788. He died October 7, 1796. Reid's philosophy has been the object of almost equally exagger- ated praise and blame. His admirers have tried to lind in his works much that he certainly never accomplished, while his critics have discovered incongruities where he had attempted nothing. He was a patient, industrious thinker, whose sphere of greatest usefulness was in clearing up what was vague and contradictory in the theories of his predecessors. Reid was no rhetorician ; he was a shrewd, sagacious Scotchman, whose literary style was simple and unadorned, but very clear, and characterized by a purity of English idiom quite uncommon in writers of philosophy. Dugald Stewart (1753-1828) was the son of the Edinburgh Professor of Mathematics, aud connected on the side of both father and mother with two of the most influential classes in Scotland — the Presbyterian ministry and the Edinburgh bar. His educa- tion in Scotland was intended to fit him for a further course at Oxford, but the latter part of this plan was never carried out. In 1775 he was elected assistant and successor to. his father, and in 1785, on the resignation of Dr. Adam Ferguson, he was appointed to the chair of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. This office he retained until 1810, when he retired in favor of Dr. Thomas Brown. His principal works are:— Element* of the Philosophy of the Human Mind (1792, 1814, 1827), OutV, Philosophy, Account of Adam Smith (1793), Account of Reid Philosophical Essays (1810), Dissertations (1815, 1821, 1827), Actia and Moral Powers (1828). His lectures on Political Eoonomyw&G published in 1850. Stewart was the expounder of the doctrines of Reid. and any claim of his to philosophical reputation can rest on very little eke. He had elegant taste and reliable judgment. He was a man emi- nently fitted to be a disciple; for the caution which would have been a fatal weakness in an investigator, made him an admirable commentator. As a teacher, Stewart exercised a wide and powerful influence. His dignified treatment of his subject recommended it to the B R W tf . §4? attention of his critical hearers, and the genial character of the man himself emphasized and made permanent the first impression Among the young men who listened to his lectures on philosophy and political economy, were many who were afterwards distin guished — Lord Brougham, Lord Palmerston, and Lord John Rus sell, in politics; Sir Walter Scott, Francis Jeffrey, and Sydney Smith, in literature. Some of them have carried out in practical measures the doctrines he taught them, while nearly all have borne testimony to the inspiration which they received in his class-room. Thomas Brown (1778-1820) entered the University of Edinburgh in 1792, where Stewart was then lecturing, and in the following year had the courage to wait upon his professor and read to him some critical observations upon his philosophy. Stewart declined to enter into any controversy, but from that time took a paternal interest in the career of the brilliant scholar. Brown began to study law, but abandoned it for medicine, with which he occupied himself from 1798 to 1803. At twenty years of age he published a volume refuting Erasmus Darwin's Zdonomia. The first edition of his Essay on Cause and Effect appeared in 1804. In 1810 Brown was chosen to assist Stewart in his professorship at the Edinburgh University, and from that time he discharged all the duties of the position. With the exception of a few essays and four volumes of forgotten poems, Brown's writings were, from this time, limited to the lectures which he delivered to the students of the University. He died in 1820. The philosophy of Brown is a combination of that of Reid and Stewart, with the analysis of the sensational school in France. For a time his popularity as a teacher and thinker was unbounded. His brilliant rhetoric, his ingenious analysis, his enthusiastic tem- perament, made his personal influence very great, and even kept alive the interest in his published lectures for twenty years. Brown's philosophy never met the expectations which his brilliant boyhood raised; his theories were nearly always the premature hints of his youth, elaborated and adorned by his powers of analy- sis and rhetoric. He lacked the conscientious industry of Reid and the critical erudition of Hamilton, but he was able to inspire young men with an elevated idea of literary taste and with a firm belief in the spirituality of the soul. 348 EAMtLTOtf. William Sterling Hamilton (1788-1856) was the son of the Professor of Anatomy and Botany in the University of Glasgow. He went to Oxford in 1807. His habits of study and research had been early formed, and even during his undergraduate years, he was known as the most learned Aristotelian in the University, but he owed little to the actual teaching of Oxford. Up to the year 1812 he had intended to practice medicine, but suddenly decided in favor of law, and, in 1813, passed his examination as Advocate at the Edinburgh Bar. In 1816 he was adjudged heir to Sir Robert Hamilton, of Preston. Sir William Hamilton's career at the bar was not brilliant. In 1820 he offered himself as candidate for the professorship of moral philosophy in the University of Edin- burgh, left vacant by the death of Dr. Thomas Brown. The election was in the hands of the Edinburgh Town Council, and was conducted on strict party principles, so that in spite of his undoubted superiority of attainments, Sir William Hamilton was rejected in favor of Professor Wilson, who was a Tory. In 1821 Hamilton was appointed Associate Professor of Civil History at the University. The duties of this position were very light, the compen- sation in proportion, and during part of his time, Sir William was not paid at all ; nevertheless, he did his work with energy and enthusiasm. In 1836 Hamilton was elected to the professorship of logic and metaphysics in the University of Edinburgh. This position he held for more than twenty years. In 1844 he was struck down by paralysis. The remaining twelve years of his life were passed in great physical weakness and suffering, but his intellectual power seemed unabated. It was during this period that he published his edition of Reid's works, gathered together his materials for a treatise on Logic and for a life of Luther, and undertook the editing of Stewart's works. lit died May 6, 1856. Sir William Hamilton, like Brown, taught a philosophy which differed from the tenets of Reid and Stewart, but like Brown again he never completed his own system. His fame is, to a very great extent, the victim of the habit of procrastination. He always put off writing until forced to the effort by some outward necessity. Then, too, the peculiar discursiveness of his mind made him look at his subject from so many points of view that his researches in all directions overwhelmed him with a quantity of material too great for him to set in order. Besides his lectures to his classes on JAMES MILL. 349 logic and metaphysics, his notes in the editions of Reid and of Stewart, and the Discussions of PhUosojjfiy, Sir William Hamilton has written very little ; and yet we find him in 1840 elected Corres- ponding Member of the Institute of France, while the University of Leyden conferred upon him the title of Doctor of Divinity. Until 1839 Sir William contributed occasional articles to the Edinburgh Review on education, medicine and philosophy; but after his appointment to the professorship of logic, he was occupied by the duties of his position. Hamilton's metaphysics is, in the main, an application of the Kantian method to the premises of the Scottish philosophy. His immense learning and critical taste made him often prefer exact- ness to clearness of style, and hence he>is often accused of unneces- sary obscurity. Of this charge, M. Cousin emphatically declares him guiltless. As a teacher, Sir William Hamilton was successful rather from the white heat of his own enthusiasm than from any intrinsic good in his method. As a man he was resolute in holding a position, dogmatic and controversial. His influence upon the life and thought of his time, was to give an impulse towards pro- founder thinking, and towards a higher estimate of the mind of man. The English School While the Scottish Philosophy in the hands of Brown and Hamilton was tending more and more to identify itself with metaphysics, a wider movement was going on in England. James Mill, a pupil of Dugald Stewart, may be named as the first of the group of thinkers who, from the same starting- point of Common Sense as the Scottish school, have extended the jurisdiction of philosophy to all the important social, political, and scientific problems of the day. In this movement are found men of the most contrasted character, and of interests the most opposed ; but they are united here by an earnest desire to reach the truth, by a strong impulse of practical benevolence, and by the patient use of scientific investigation. James Mill (1773-1836) was the author of the History of British India, (1817-18), and of the Analysis of the Human Mind (1829). The history displayed such stores of information that it caused the directors of the East India Company, in spite of the author's 350 JEREMY BENTHAM. censure of their conduct of* affairs, to give him a place in theii home establishment. He eventually became head of the depart- ment of Indian correspondence. James Mill was a man of strong character. Although his name is intimately associated with that of Bentham, he was no servile follower, but a man of acute and independent views. The Analysis of (lie Human Mind is the first elaborate and scientific exposition of the sensational and asso- ciational philosophy. It resolves all mental exercises into sensa- tions and ideas, with laws of association connecting and combining them. He wrote articles in the Encyclopedia Britannica, and was an important contributor to the Westminster Review. His Element* of Political Economy was published in 1821-22, and presented in a precise and clear style the views of Ricardo, who was at that time unknown to the majority of English readers. James Mill, as a critic and as an original thinker, was strongly tinctured by the influences of the eighteenth century, of which, indeed, he may be called the last representative. He was a man of remarkable conversational ability, and his personal influence kept about him a score or joung men who came to be 1 known as the West- minister Review school. They followed Bentham in morals, and Mill in metaphysics. From the narrow, the partial, and the fanatical part of Mill's teaching they gradually fell away ; but to his earnestness, sincerity and enthusiasm, the careers of men like George Grote, John Arthur Roebuck, and Mr. Grant, still bear grateful testimony. Jeremy Bentham (1748-1832). The founder of the "Utili- tarian School " was born in London, where he spent most of his life. His father was a shrewd attorney, who took great pride in the mental precocity displayed by his son, and cherished the hope of seeing him some time Lord Chancellor. At the age of twelve, Bentham was so far recovered from the ill health of his earlier years that he was entered as a commoner at Oxford. His lite there was not happy, for his high estimate of his own ability, and his sensitiveness to the opinion of others, were constantly subject tag him to suffering. He took" his degree of A. B. in 1768, and shortly afterward commenced the study of law. He listened to Black- stone's lectures with feelings of protest, though he did not at that time set himself up as a critic. Bentham took his degree of A. M. JOHN STUART MILL. 351 at the age of eighteen, and at twenty-four was called to the bar. The hopes of a successful career, which his remarkable attainments had inspired, were all disappointed ; his temperament utterly un- fitted him for the practice of English law as it then stood, and he employed himself in planning for the reconstruction of English jurisprudence on the basis of Utility. His fierce attacks on law abuses and on lawyers naturally raised against him a great deal of prejudice, and it was forty years before he gained the respectful attention of the English public. During all this time he worked with an unwavering faith in himself and in the ultimate triumph of the principles which he advocated. He became the acknowledged head of a school of young men who were Radicals in politics and Utilitarians in morals, and although nearly everyone of his dis- ciples found subsequent reasons to differ with him in his most important doctrines, he was for many years one of the great influ- ences in English thought. In 1823 he supplied the money to set up the Wed minster Review as the Radical organ. The first editor of the Review, Sir John Bo wring, has compiled Bentham's works in eleven volumes (1843). Bentham was a Utilitarian to the last; for he bequeathed his dead body to his friend Dr. Smith, for the purpose of dissection. As a philosopher Bentham's keen sense of justice made him quick to see abuses in practical life; his critical power enabled him to discover incongruities in schemes of philosophy ; but his self-esteem and lack of sympathy made him too ready to believe that what he did not see did not exist. It is limited to utility, and stops short with the business interests of the individual and society. As a system it is inadequate. But the principles which were utterly insufficient to account for a moral nature in man or for character in a nation were well adapted to practical reform in the science and method of jurisprudence. In this field Bentham has been the direct or the indirect source of nearly every improvement of the present century. His pages are the storehouses from w T hich modern legislators and jurists pilfer. The work from which the general reader will obtain the best idea of Bentham's system is the TJieory of Legislation. John Stuart Mill (1806-1873). The childhood of this acute thinker was made aged by a pedantic training ; the happiness of 352 JOHN STUART MILL. his early manhood was almost destroyed by the excessive development of his analytical powers, and his whole life was a pathetic attempt to find satisfaction for the cravings of an ardent nature in the habits of thought which an artificial education had imposed. Iu 1823 Mill became a clerk in the East India Company. There he remained until he was appointed examiner, only two years before the abolition of the Company in 1858. In 1865, under iomewhat peculiar circumstances, he was elected to the House of Commons from Westminster. He refused to take any part in the canvass or to incur any expense ; he declined to give any of his time or labor to the interests of the election, and declared his belief that women were entitled to representation in Parliament on the same terms with men. Mr. Mill's career as a member of the House was the rather unattractive one of the man who makes it his business to do what is left undone or thought not worth the doing by others. He was prominent in his advocacy of the Irish inter- ests, and of Northern principles in the Civil War of the United States. On the dissolution of Parliament in 1868, he was not re-elected, and from that time he took no active part in public business. His career as an author began with frequent contributions to journals committed to liberal views in politics and philosophy. He gained access to the Westminster Review through his connection with Beutham, and was one of its most laborious supporters, although its management was not in accordance with his personal views. From 1834 to 1840, as the London and Westminster, he conducted it himself. Mr. Mill's reputation was established by his System of Logic (1843). The Principles of Political Economy appeared in 1848, and his Examination of Sir William Hamilton 's Pliih>x(>i>hy in 1865. In the Logic his acceptance of the tenets of the sensational school leads him to lay great stress upon indue! ion, and makes him utterly unsatisfied with the theories of the syllogism offered by Whately and others. The Political Economy is not confined to abstract theories, but treats of practical applications as well. Able discussions of most of the questions of the dav which are to be found in its pages make it the most satisfactory treatise on the subject. Mr. Mill's vigorous criticism of Sir William Hamilton's Philos- GEORGE HE NET LEWES. 353 cphy demands attention on account of its polemical as well as its philosophical value. The rival schools of Intuition and Experi- ence are here represented by two acknowledged champions, and the various points at issue are stubbornly contested. The Essay on Liberty was written to emphasize the importance of variety in types of character, and has been one of the most influential of Mr. Mill's efforts. The essay on The Subjection of Women is an eloquent plea for greater freedom of effort for the sex, and shows in a clear light the ardor of sentiment which was hidden under Mr. Mill's uncompromising logic. George Henry Lewes (1817-1878) occupies a somewhat anom- alous position in the literature of the nineteenth century. His education was desultory, his career erratic. His taste for philo- sophical research seems to have displayed itself early, but as it was coupled with the necessity of earning his own living, he could indulge it only in the intervals of other employments. He began the study of medicine, but could not overcome a constitutional horror of the dissecting-room, and therefore studied anatomy and physiology only as a part of his general education. Gradually he drifted .nto a literary career as that for which he was best fitted. His early works — plays, poems, and novels— were written to gain a subsistence for himself while he went on with the studies which were to fit him for work in the more serious departments of thought. From 1841 to 1878 he supplied articles on topics of general interest to nearly all the leading magazines of England, and twice in that time he filled the position of editor {The" Leader, 1851-1854; Fortnightly, 1865-6). Mr. Lewes endeavored to make philosophy popular and practical. He was a Positivist, and held the social opinions of an advanced Liberal. His work is always original, bold, and suggestive ; he insists upon doubt and experi- ment as necessary steps in scientific method, and is a most pains- taking illustrator of his own doctrine. His efforts have been fragmentary, and have gone over much ground. To the last he was a man of promise rather than of accomplishment. His principal writings are : — Biographical History of Philosophy (1857), Comte's Philosophy of the Sciences (1853), Life of Goethe (1855), Aristotle (1864), Problems of Life and Mind: I. The Foundations of a Greed (1874), II. (1875), III. (1877). 351 INFLUENCE OF THE CLERGY. Influence of the Clergy. — The nineteenth century has favored the diffusion of thought. It has thereby increased the number of questions which have clamored for solution, because they have involved the interests of the common people. In all attempts at settling these questions the clergy of England have borne an honorable and important part. With patient industry some of them have worked to bring knowledge within the reach of the people, and with large-hearted sympathy they have tried to lighten the burdens which increased intelligence sometimes seemed to render only more intolerable. With earnest self-devotion others have labored to adjust the relations between Church and State — between private judgment and authority. Richard Whately (1787-1863).— While still a fellow of Oriel, Whately was the representative of a class of able and philan- thropic men who had set themselves the task of improving the teaching and discipline in the Oxford colleges. Even at that early day the struggle between the reason of the individual and the authority of the Church was dimly shadowed forth in the subtle disputations which took place in the Oriel Common Room. Even then, men like Keble -thought that others like Whately were not free from u pride of reason ; " but the practical temperament and active industry of Whately found plenty to occupy him in the discharge of obvious duty without turning aside to what he could not but consider fine-spun distinctions. His elevation to an arch- bishopric was the cause of great rejoicing to Dr. Arnold and the other • members of the Church Reform Party, but their hopes were disappointed. Whately, while working for reform, did not become its eminent champion. His great service was his support of the national school system; he was also largely concerned in the reform of the Poor Laws, and he did much to bring about the abolition of penal transportation and the admission of Jews to Parliament. His first work, published anonymously, was the once famous argument entitled Historic Doubt* Relative to Najtoleon Bonaparte. It was an illustration of the fact that the principles of reasoning used by infidels against the teachings of the New Testa- ment are just as effective in seeming to disprove the best authenti- cated t'arts of history. While Professor of Political Economy at Oxford he published his well-known works on Logic and Rhetoric. JOHK KEBLE. 355 To enumerate all the publications of this diligent man would not be possible in this sketch. u He was always either writing himself or helping some one else to write." His best essays are : New Testament Difficulties, The Sabbath, and Romanism. His lectures on Political Economy (346) appeared in 1831, and later he pub- lished other works on social and economical questions. His work in annotating an edition of Bacon's essays has received much deserved praise. Whately had a mind of great logical power, with little imagination and fancy. His views of questions are always practical. His style is luminous, easy, and well adorned with every-day illustrations. John Keble (1792-1866). -In the year 1833 Oxford became the center of a religious movement which found expression in the famous Tracts for the Times. This Tractarianism was marked by the self-denial of its originators — by the lofty aims of its sup- porters. If its spirit was sometimes too exclusive, its meaning toe mystical, it must always be admitted that it made worldly old men thoughful and young men serious. The prominent supporters of this movement were men versed in dialectics, who were able to parry and return every thrust of their opponents. The leader of it all was a quiet man living as a curate at Fairford. This man was John Keble, the author of The Christian Year and of the Summer Assize Sermon at Oxford, afterward published under the title of National Apostasy. Years before, he had been one of the Oxford celebrities. In 1810 he had obtained double first-class honors, and shortly afterward he was elected to an Oriel fellowship. Cople- ston, Davidson, and Whately, Arnold, Newman and Pusey were his companions ; but the brilliant intercourse of such intellects was unsatisfactory to him, and after five years of residence at Oriel, during which he took part in the college tuition and acted as an examiner, he was ordained, and left the University. For nearly twenty years he was content to be his father's curate, and bounded his earthly ambition by the duties of a son and brother. He was called from time to time to serve his College and Univer- sity, but his sincere desire was for the peace and serenity of a country parish. This meditative life resulted in the publication of The Christian Year in 1827. The Catholic Emancipation dis- turbed his serenity. He came to Oxford, and in his assize sermon 356 THOMAS ARNOLD. attempted to defend the English Church Against Lord Grey by reviving her claims to heavenly origin and divine prerogative. He sounded the alarm, and then went back to his quiet parish, leaving it for others to reduce to logical form the principles which were part of his nature. But when, in 1845, John Henry Newman went over to the Church of Rome, the burden of defence fell back upon Keble and Dr. Pusey. Keble accepted his share of the uncongenial task, and worked until his death in 1866 with un- wearying energy and affectionate devotion. Of all Keble's literary works The Christian Year is the one which has appealed most to the popular heart and experience. It is marked by the simple expression of genuine poetic feeling, by unaffected piety, and love of nature. Of the Tracts for the Times, he wrote Nos. 4, 13, 40, and 89. Thomas Arnold (1795-1842), Head Master of Rugby, the author 5f the History of Rome, was one of the strenuous opponents of Newman and Pusey. His character was one of the most inter- esting of modern times. His intellect was eminently practical, at the same time that it lacked neither acuteness nor sympathy. His convictions were clear, his energy in carrying them to their legiti- mate conclusions unflinching. He began his work at Rugby by reforms in both the social and intellectual life of the school, and made himself the soul of its discipline as well as the guide of its spiritual life. Although bitterly opposed to the claims of undue authority for the Church of England, he was ardently attached to her teachings, and urgently advocated the doctrine that the State ought to be a working Church. He held the position of Regius Professor of Modem History for a year; he believed it to be the one of all others best suited to his tastes and disposition. His life and usefulness were cut short by heart disease, June 12, 1842. The History of Borne embodies the results of Niebuhr's inv< tions, and is written in clear, energetic English. Frederick William Robertson (1816-1853) waa the son of a captain in the Royal Artillery, stationed at Leith Port. Here, in the midst of warlike surroundings, were spent the iir>t live years of his life — years which were ever afterward cherished in hi- FREDERICK WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 357 memory. As the boy grew older his peculiar character rapidly developed, giving evidence of the somewhat contradictory traits which were his through life. He was courageous and enthusiastic, he was also excitable and self-conscious ; the qualities which made him a passionate lover of arms were supplemented by others which made him from a child deeply and unfeignedly religious. Captain Robertson believed that his son was unfitted for a military lii'e, and in 1833 he was articled to a solicitor, with whom he spent a year in the study of law. But he detested the profession, and concluded to enter the Church. With this end in view, he went to Oxford, graduated in 1840, and in the same year took orders. He was curate at Winchester, Cheltenham, and Oxford, and in 1847 he became minister of Trinity Chapel, Brighton. There the rest of his short life was spent, and there, in the midst of bewildering occupa- tions and disheartening opposition, he died, August 15, 1853. Robertson was not a theologian, he was not an eminent scholar in any department of thought. In the great political and religious controversies of his day he sided neither with Newman nor Kings- ley, neither with capital nor the Chartists. The man stood alone all his life. His exquisite sympathy made him see so much of good in each of the contending parties and doctrines that he could be the partisan of neither. His short life was a sad one, for his own struggles were the source of helpfulness to others, never of satis- faction to himself. His character was marked by constant growth ; opinions and beliefs, which were outworn by his experience, felL from him like old garments, and the calm of a settled conviction, attained through agony of feeling, often seemed like indifference. Such a man is sure to be misunderstood ; perhaps it is hardly possible that he should understand himself with the easy faith of i less complex character. The thirteen years of Robertson's minis- ;ry were years of feverish industry on his part, of wondering half- comprehension on the part of his friends, and of bitter opposition on the part of his enemies. Gradually the position lost the sting of its bitterness, and his soldier-like endurance of the drill of life softened into the Christian desire to work while it was day. Robertson's influence was great among the tradespeople of Brighton. He organised a Workingmen's Institute, before which he delivered some of his most powerful addresses. His lectures on poetry did much to interest tne working people in this branch 358 JOHN FREDERICK DENISON MAURICE. of literature, and helped to lessen the distance between the rich and the poor. Robertson was never able to shut his eyes to tbc fact that the self-indulgence of the lower classes was, after all, answerable for most of the hardships of their condition; so that while he was their constant friend, he never ceased to be their critic. His life proved that a man could retain his individuality and still be a clergyman of the Church of England ; that a man might oppose the demands of the working people and yet be the only minister of his Church who would vote for the Radicals in 1852. His influence has not ceased with his life; he is to-day perhaps better understood than when his voice was still heard in Brighton This subtler recognition began on the day when frivo- lous Brighton closed her shops and wore mourning ; when her tradespeople, workingmen, and literary societies went together to his funeral. Robertson's sermons and lectures have gone through many editions in England and America, and have been printed in the Tauchnitz edition of English authors. John Frederick Denison Maurice (1805-1872) was the friend of John Sterling and the co-laborer of Charles Kingsley. A man of great sensitiveness of conscience in respect to his own action, he exercised the broadest charity toward the shortcomings of others. His active career was marked by two purposes— one, to make the theology of the Church of England minister to the needs of man- kind ; the other, to ameliorate the condition of the working classes. In the first he co-operated with Dr Arnold of Rugby; in the second with Kingsley. He met with opposition and misunder- standing in both attempts, but gradually recognition of his generous intentions and ardent love for truth was given to him. He was made Professor of Theology in King's College. London. In 1866 he became Professor of Moral Philosophy at Cambridge. He has written much on the history of philosophy, the philosophy of religion, the critical study of the Scriptures, the condition of the working people, and social morality. Charles Kingsley has said that, although Maurice was a great and rare thinker, he was greatest in his personal influence. Perhaps the verdict of less partial critics would deny the first statement. There is very little originality in his thinking, no great subtlety in his intellect llw CHARLES KIXGSLEY. 359 was the principal of the Workingmen's College in Red Lion Square ; lie was the founder of Christian Socialism ; he was the "Master" to whom Charles Kingsley looked up with love and reverence. Charles Kingsley (1819-1875). — Kingsley's name is so closely associated with some of the greatest political movements and religious issues of this century that his writings have an historical interest quite apart from their artistic value. The Chartist excite- ment and the Newman controversy both occurred during his life- time, and both were influential in determining the character of his work. He was the friend of Maurice, of Bunsen, of Mill, and of Carlyle, an old-fashioned High Churchman, and a Chartist. He was ordained in 1842, and in the same year accepted the curacy of Eversley ; two years afterward he received the living. Here he spent his life in active parish work, and in the churchyard he is buried. The literary life of Kingsley is divided into two parts, each characterized in the main by one of the two influences which held his mind in balance. In his youth and early manhood he was self-assertive, impatient of abuses, destructive in his tendencies. Yeast, published as a serial in Fraser in 1848, was the outcome of his interest in the Chartist Riots of that year, and gives some of the most powerful delineations of the sufferings of the poor which are to be found in English literature. Alton Locke (1850) deals with the same general subject, though the literary tone of the book is more dignified. As a parish clergyman, Kingsley was particularly interested in the intellectual and sanitary condition of the poor. He found Eversley without schools, and its poor people in the squalor of ignorance; his 'struggle with dirt, sickness, and unbelief during the attacks of cholera which visited England in these years was the motive for his novel of Two Years Ago. In 1851 he published Hypatia as a serial in Fraser. He says of it : " My idea in the romance is to set forth Christianity as the only really demo- cratic creed and philosophy; above all, spiritualism as the most exclusively aristocratic creed." In 1855 appeared Westward Ho, an historical novel, relating to Elizabethan English history. During this period of his life, Mr. Kingsley was constantly suf- fering from the ill-feeling and opposition which his bold sympathy with the working classes had roused in the minds of his clerical 360 WILLIAM WHEWELL. superioi i and brethren. As compensation for this, he seems to have enjoyed the confidence of workingraen to a degree hardly excelled by any other man in England. As Kingsley grew older, as the rights of the poor found more champions, his opinions seemed less singular, and the prejudice created by his way of stating them lessened. The reverence of the man for sacred things now found a voice in sermons, lectures, and essays, which he published from time to time. The regius professorship of modern history at Cambridge he held from 1860 until his resignation in 1869. In this position he was very successful in rousing the interest of the undergraduates, al- though the character of his work received much criticism, on the ground that it was unscholarly, and not sufficiently formal in method. In 1869 he was made a Canon of Chester Cathedral, and in 1873 he accepted a vacant stall in Westminster. Besides his contributions to religious, social, and political litera- ture, Mr. Kingsley was a poet of a low order. The pathos of some of his ballads will long make them dear to the hearts of the simple folk who were their inspiration. Two of the most popular are The Three Fishers and the Sands o' Bee. The Influence of the Scientists. — The science of the nineteenth century has been developed in two very different directions — one of them practical, the other speculative, so that our time boasts it.< great discoverers as well as its able thinkers. For the most part, the two influences have gone on side by side. Literature lias re- ceived an impetus from minds which have been roused into activ- ity by the questions and answers of experimental science. William Whewell (1794-1866) was a man of whom it was said, " Science is his forte and omniscience is his foible." He graduated from Cambridge in 1816, received a fellowship, and from 1828 to 1832 was professor of mineralogy. He was elected Professor of Moral Theology in 1838, master of Trinity in 1841, and in 1855 vuo- chancellor of Cambridge. Dr. Whewell was a man of strong convictions, fond of argument and inclined to selfassertion. His friendships with the scientific men of his time were numerous and cordial. As an officer of Cam- bridge he was eminently conservative. HERSCHEL, FARADAY. 361 His contributions to literature cover a large number of subjects. Sir John Herschel says of him that " a more wonderful variety and amount of knowledge in almost every department of human inquiry was perhaps never in the same interval of time accumu- lated by any man." Political economy, education, mathematics, and architecture have all been the subjects of formal treatises, but the works upon which his literary reputation mainly rests are four: The Bridgewater Treatise (1833), History of the Inductive Sciences (1837), Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences (1840), and Lectures on the His- tory of Moral Philosophy in En gland (1852). In all his writings it was one of Dr. Whewell's objects to reconcile science with the ortho- dox religious views of his time. Sir John Frederick William Herschel (1793-1871).— A gradu- ate of Cambridge in 1813, he was distinguished for his mathematical genius and for his studies in physical science. His service to literature lies in what he has done to make the fruits of abstruse research in his profession available to the ordi- nary reader. He wrote for the Encyclopaedia Metropolitana, for Lardner's Cyclopaedia, and for the Edinburgh and London quarter- lies. Clear, vigorous English, vivid and happy illustration are found in all his writing, but the work displaying the best merits of his style is the Preliminary Discourse on dhe Study of Natural Phil- osophy. Michael Faraday (1791-1867) was sent at thirteen years of age to be errand-boy for a London bookseller. In this shop he found scientific books, which he read with ardent and painstaking curios- ity. From this time his education consisted of the opportunities for reading and for hearing lectures which his own energy or the kindness of his few friends brought in his way. In 181 3 he was ap- pointed assistant in the laboratory of the Royal Institution. During the same year he went with Sir Humphrey Davy to the Continent, where he traveled with him about a year and a half. This tour was all that Faraday had to take the place of liberal education or artis- tic culture. On his return in 1815 he took up the duties of his po- sition with so much energy that he was promoted from one subor- dinate place to another, until in 1825 he was made Director of the Royal Institution. Faraday was a lecturer of great popularity and 362 HUGH MILLER. a contributor to scientific journals. His works are almost entirely records of experiments and investigations. The style is clear and simple, often rising into enthusiasm when the author treats of the wonders of nature or calls attention to a moral truth. Hugh Miller (1802-1856) was a descendant of buccaneers and Highland chiefs. He grew up in Cromarty in daily contact with a people as untamed as the sea, as rugged as their coast. Books and pedagogues were never of the first interest to a lad who could hear the story of Culloden from men who fought in the battle, or talk with the witness of the last witch-hanging in the North of Scotland ; and so it came about that the most promising boy of the district shook his head when his uncles proposed that he should go to Aber- deen and study for the church. They accepted his decision, and apprenticed him to one of his relatives, who was a stone-mason. Until he was thirty-four he lived in the midst of continual toil, journeying through different parts of Scotland in search of work. Meanwhile his education did not stop; his hammer was always at hand, his quick eyes always alert for a chance to use it. The gangs of workmen with whom he lived had to get used to the silent fel- low who spent hours in meditation. He made himself master of the best English and Scotch literature, beginning with nursery sto- ries and Border ballads, Ifut ending with Locke and the Scotch Philosophy, thus laying the foundation of that literary style which combines the excellences of the eighteenth and the nineteenth cen- turies — a style of which Dr. Buckland said that he would give his left hand to possess its powers of description. In 1829 Miller pub- lished a volume of poems, but his best poetry after all is in his prose. Miller was a strong Presbyterian, and took a prominent part in the ." non-intrusion " controversy. His efforts were rewarded by an appointment to the editorship of the Witness. His position among the Edinburgh journalists was deservedly high. The articles which came from his pen are remarkable for thought fulness, high morality, and literary finish. The Old Red Sandstone appeared in a series of papers in the Witness during the first year of his editor- ship, and revealed his discovery of fossils in a formation which up to that time had been deemed almost destitute of them. The Foot- steps of the Creator w;is written to oppose the development theory as embodied in the Vestige* of the Natural History of Creation. Mil- REVIEWERS AKB ESSAYISTS. 363 ler was intimately associated with Dr. Chalmers in the councils of the Free Church, and worked constantly in its interests in spite of increasing ill health. His overworked brain at last began to show signs of disease, but he toiled on in his efforts to finish the Testimony of the Rocks until he had written the last page, and awoke to the con- sciousness that his mind was ruined. The strong man was not strong enough to meet such a future, and he shot himself Dec. 26, 1856. The character of Hugh Miller's early life and education has left its imprint upon his scientific work and his literary style. The soli- tude of his unshared tastes through so many years forced him to be independent in his investigations, and gave a rugged strength to the language in which he described the experiences of his life. Keviewers and Essayists.— The cheapness of printing and the increasing readers have promoted the success of "periodicals." They range from the valuable quarterlies, through the various forms of magazine and review down to the daily paper, the peculiar feat- ure of the literature of the times. Some of the most valuable es- says of our literature have appeared in these publications. Every shade of politics, every school of philosophy, every sect of religion, has its paper or its magazine. To give a sketch of these periodicals is of course impossible, but the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews and Blackwood's Magazine imparted such an impulse to literature as to demand a few words. The Edinburgh Review was established in 1802 by a small party of young men, — Brougham, Jeffrey, Sydney Smith, Horner, — ob- scure at that time, but ambitious and enterprising, who 1802] were all destined to attain distinction. It founded its claim to success upon the boldness and vivacity of its tone, its total rejection of all precedent and authority, and the audacity of its discussions. It was conducted from 1803 to 1829 by Francis Jeffrey (333) (1773-1850), a Scotch advocate, who was subsequently raised to the bench. He wrote critical articles, marked by vigor and elegance of style, and usually by keen discrimination. Another of the most important of the early contributors to the Review, who indeed edited the first number, was Sydney Smith (331, 332) (1771-1845), an English clergyman, and in the later period of his life Canon of St. Paul's. He wrote chiefly upon political and prac- tical questions with a richness of comic humor and dry sarcasm, 364 JOHN WILSON. which is not only exquisitely amusing, but is full of truth as well as pleasantry. The Edinburgh was reckless of fear or favor, and with a dashing and attractive style it fiercely advocated liberal opinions. To counteract its influence, and to defend the Tories, The Quarterly Re- view was started in 1809. It was warmly welcomed by the friends of the government, and immediately obtained a literary reputation at least equal to its rival. The editorship was intrusted to Will- iam Gifford (1757-1826), the translator of Juvenal, and the author of Baviad and Marviad, two powerful satires — the former aimed at the second-rate authors, the latter at the dramatists of his day. Gifford was a self-taught man, who had raised himself, by dint of almost superhuman exertions and admirable integrity, to a high place among the literary men of his age. He was succeeded in the editorship of the Quarterly, after a short interregnum, by John Gibson Lockhart (319) (1794-1854), the author of several novels, and one of the earliest and ablest contribu- tors to Blackwood's Magazine. Many of the best articles in the Quarterly were written by himself. In 1820 he married the eldest daughter of Sir Walter Scott, and in 1837-39 he published his charming Life of his father-in-law. He deserves the fame he has as a biographer. His Life of Napoleon, which appeared without the author's name, is far superior to many more ambitious per- formances. Blackwood's Magazine first appeared in 1817, and was distin- guished by the ability of its purely literary articles, as well as by the violence of its political sentiments. Among the many able men who wrote for it, the most eminent was John Wilson (318) (1785- 1854), the son of a wealthy merchant. Alter studying at Oxford, he took up his abode on the banks of the Windermere, attracted thither by the society of Wordsworth, Southey, and Coleridge. Wilson was an ardent admirer of Wordsworth, whose style he adopted, to some extent, in his own poems, the Isle of Palm* and TJie City after the Plague. The year before the publication of the latter poem, Wilson had been compelled, by the loss of his fortune, to remove to Edinburgh, and to adopt literature as a profession. Though Mr. Blackwood was the editor of his own magazine, Wil- son was the presiding spirit, and under the name of Christopher North and other pseudonyms he poured forth ai tide after article. CHAELES LAMB. 365 His Nodes Ambrosianm, in which politics, literary criticism, and fun were intermingled, gained great popularity. I lis pathetic tales, the Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life, and a novel, The Trials of Margaret Lindsey, show the' gentle, genial spirit of this eloquent author. In 1820, as a competitor of Sir William Hamilton, he was elected Professor of Moral Philosophy at Edinburgh. William Hazlitt (338) 1778-1830, son of a Unitarian minister, was educated for an artist, but lived by literature. He was one of the best critics in the earlier part of this century. His paradoxes are a little startling, and sometimes lead him astray ; but there is a delicacy of taste, a richness of imagination, and a perceptive power that make him a worthy second to De Quincey. His style is vivid and picturesque, and his discernment of character is clear. His chief works are Principles of Human Action, Characters of Shake- speare's Plays, Table Talk, Lectures on various authors, Essays on English novelists in the Edinburgh, and a Life of Napoleon in four volumes. It would be impossible in our limits to give an account of the many other writers who distinguished themselves by their contribu- tions to the Reviews and Magazines; but in addition to those already mentioned two essayists stand forth pre-eminent— Charles Lamb and Thomas De Quincey. Charles Lamb (334, 335) (1775-1834), a poor man's son, was educated at Christ's Hospital. He was a Londoner : London life sup- plied him with his richest materials, and his mind was imbued with the spirit of the older writers. During the early and greater part of bis life, Lamb, poor and unfriended, was drudging as a clerk in the India House; and it was not until late in life that he was released from the desk. There was a dark shadow above his path, for his beloved sister Mary, ten years older than himself, was subject to fits of insanity. In one of these fits she had killed her mother. That sad event, and the sad care which Lamb gave to his sister, imparted a tender melancholy to his writings, even where they seem to abound in good humor. The brother and sister lived together for thirty-eight years after the death of their mother, each devotedly attached to the other. They shared in the authorship and publication of four juve- nile works — Mrs. Leicester's School, Tales from Shakespeare, The Ad- 366 CHARLES LAMB. venture* of Ulysses, and Poetry for Children. In Lamb's earliest compositions, such as the drama of John Woodvil, and subsequently in the Essays of Ella, although the world at first perceived a mere imitation of the quaintness of expression of the old writers, there was in reality a revival of their very spirit. The Essays of Elia, contributed by him at different times to The London Magazine, are surpassingly fine for humor, taste, penetration, and vivacity. Where shall we find such intense delicacy of feeling, such unimaginable happiness of expression, such a searching into the very body of truth, as in these unpretending compositions ? The style has a pe- culiar and most subtle charm ; not the result of labor, for it is found in as great perfection in his familiar letters — a certain quaintness and antiquity, not affected in Lamb, but the natural garb of his thoughts. As in all true humorists, his pleasantry was allied with the finest pathos; the merry jest on the tongue was but the com- mentary on the tear which trembled in the eye. The inspiration that other poets find in the mountains, in the forest, in the sea, Lamb could draw from the crowd of Fleet-street, from the remem- brances of an old actor, from the benchers of the Temple. Lamb was the schoolfellow, the devoted admirer and friend ol Coleridge. Coleridge says of him : " Believe me, no one is compe- tent to judge of poor dear Charles who has uot known him long and well, as I have done. His heart is as whole as his head. The wild words which sometimes come from him on religious subjects might startle you from the mouth of any other man ; but in him they are mere flashes of firework Catch him when alone, and the great odds are you will find him with the Bible or an old divine before him, or may be, and that is the next door in excellence, an old English poet ; in such is his pleasure." There never was a man more beloved by all his contemporaries, by men of every opinion, of every shade of literary, political and religious sentiment. His Specimens of the Old English Drama- tists first showed to modern readers what treasures of poetry lay concealed in the unknown writers of the Elizabethan age. Indeed, Lamb's mind, in its sensitiveness, in its mixture of wit and pathos, was eminently Shakespearean ; and his intense and rev- erent study of the works of Shakespeare doubtless gave this tend- ency. In his poems, as, for instance, the Farewell to TfeftaMO, t he Old Familiar Faces, and his few but beautiful sonnets, W€ find the THOMAS CARLYLE. 36? very essence and spirit of this quaint tenderness of fancy, the siin« plicity of the child mingled with the learning of the scholar. Thomas de Quincey (1785-1859) was one .of the masters of Eng- lish prose. He was the son of a wealthy Manchester merchant. After leaving Oxford he settled at Grasmere, and became intimate with Wordsworth, Southey, and Coleridge. There he became a slave to the habit of opium-eating. After many years of indul- gence, and by a most desperate struggle, he broke the chain that had bound him. The last thirty-eight years of his life he was a resident of Glasgow and Edinburgh. The best known of his writings, the Confessions of an Opium-eater (329, 330), made a great sensation upon its publication in 1821. The sketches of his experience with the drug are fearfully vivid and picturesque, while in places the ridicule of himself is keen and amusing. His language sometimes soars to astonishing heights of eloquence. Some of his essays are almost exclusively humorous, among which Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts is the best known. An able critic, in the London Quarterly Beview, No. 219, thus sums up his literary merits : — " A great master of English com- position ; a critic of uncommon delicacy ; an honest and unflinching investigator of received opinions ; a philosophic inquirer, second only to his first and sole hero (Coleridge), De Quincey has left no successor to his rank. The exquisite finish of his style, with the scholastic rigor of his logic, form a combination which centuries may never reproduce, but which every generation should study as one of the marvels of English literature." Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881)— a man unlike all other men of let- ters ; so out of sympathy with the epoch in which he has written that he is called " the censor of his age ; " so versatile in talent that he may be classed among philosophers, or historians, or biographers, or essayists — shall stand by himself in our discussion. He was the son of a Scotch village mason. He was reared to a thorough hatred of insincerity. His early studies gave him special pleasure in mathematics ; for in them he found the satisfaction of dealing with demonstrable truth. His education was intended to fit him for the work of a clergyman in the Scottish Kirk ; but he did not take kindly to that calling, and, after pitiful mental suffering in trying to 368 THOMAS CABLYLE. comply with the plans which had been made for him, he abandoned them. His inclination was towards a literary career. He was a prodigious reader. When Dickens was engaged in writing the TdU of Two Cities, he asked Carlyle to lend him a few books which should give him vivid glimpses of the French Revolution. The next day Dickens was amazed by seeing a dray stop at his door loaded with books written in half a dozen languages, all of them dealing with that subject. Such was Carlyle's idea of " a few books." He was the most accomplished of Englishmen in the Ger- man language and literature. Like Coleridge, his thought and his style were strongly influenced by studies in German. At the beginning of his literary career, Carlyle wrote uncompro- mising and vigorous criticism of his nation and of his age. Nor did his fury abate. Until the end of his life he was sensitive to shams — was, perhaps, too qu ; ck in thinking that he detected them, and was desperate in his assault upon them. His first work as a writer of books was a translation of Legendre's Geometry, with an original "Essay on Proportion." This was followed by a Life of Schiller. Its unlikeness to conventional biography — its free- dom from minute narration, its brilliant analysis of character, at- tracted critical attention, and won much applause for the anony- mous author. In 1826 he was married to Miss Jane Welsh, a de- scendant of John Knox. To her }>atience with his temperament, and to her ambition, devoted to him, he owes much of his success. Before his name was known in literary circles he had become weary of life among men, and had removed his home from Edinburgh to a small estate belonging to his wife, at Craigenputtoch, a lonely place in Dumfriesshire. 4 'I came hither," he said, "solely with the design to simplify my way of life, and to secure the independence through which I could be enabled to remain true to myself." His pen was busy. Essay after essay was published by him — some of them revealing to English readers the beauty of modern Gei man thought, some of them biographical, giving new and jotter vi< the character portrayed. It was at this time that his famous essay on Burns was written. Six years of toil and isolation were passed at Craigenputtoch. The brightest social incident of those years, as Carlyle recalled them, was his first meeting and his night of con- versation with Ralph Waldo Emerson, an admirer who had made a pilgrimage to the dreary hermitage. THOMAS CARLYLE. 369 Sartor Besartus ("The Tailor Done Over") was written in 1831. Cariyle met many discouragements in seeking its publisher. He was even constrained to take up his residence in London in order that he might the more faithfully prosecute the search. When Fraser's Magazine published the work as a serial in 1833-4, it aroused much ridicule and rebuke. A few thoughtful readers found it a delight. In style it was barbarous, in thought it was fresh and stimulating. The number of its attentive readers steadily increased, until it was recognized as having an influence over Eng- lish thought greater than any other work of that generation. The underlying idea of the book is that social organizations are but the garments of social life, and that they are so outworn as to be un- sightly and almost worthless. Humor, pathos, satire, poetic senti- ment give charm to its pages. The French Revolution, a History (1837) was the first of Carlyle's works which bore the author's name. As a history it is unique. There is not even continuity of narrative. Characters seen in a flash of light, incidents, epochs are selected and portrayed with thrilling vividness. In the three years following Cariyle delivered before small audi- ences of his admirers courses of lectures on literary, historical, and philosophical themes. The reporter's notes of one course of these lectures were written out into the volume of Heroes and Hero Wor- ship (1841). Past and Present, published in 1843, was an attack upon the unheroic spirit of the English aristocracy. The Life and Letters of Oliver Cromwell, with Elucidations, published in 1845, was the attempt of a Cromwell in literature to give vindication of the character and achievements of the Protector. In 1864 the History of Frederick II., commonly called Frederick the Great, appeared. Preparation for writing it had cost Cariyle fifteen years of labor. Publications relating to his theme, unpublished records of state correspondence, minute points of scenery — all details of record and of scenery had been studied to fit him for the narration of his story. His respect for Frederick II. had attracted him to this task, and yet he gives his reader to understand that Frederick should command admiration not for greatness, but for the reason that "he managed not to be a liar and a charlatan as his century was." Carlyle's last years were given to quiet ways. His pen was sel- dom used. Those who had access to him found him one of the 370 THOMAS CARLYLE. most entertaining men in conversation. His thoughts were those of a rugged Scotchman who revered intellectual worth. His speech had the attractiveness of a broad and emphatic Scotch accent. Carlyle's literary style has been loudly and justly condemned. It is usually jagged and intricate, a mixture of terse English vocabu- lary with involved German structure of sentence. At first it seems like the belching of a volcanic mind; but after careful scrutiny it is found to be the studied expression of a mighty rhetorician who seeks not grace, but vividness ; not elegance, but power. In this chapter we have considered : — The English Literature of the Nineteenth Century, 1. The New Literature of History. Thirlwall, Grote, Macaulay, Hallam, Mil- man, Buckle. 2. The Literature of Philosophy. a. The Scottish School; Reid, Stewart, Brown, Hamilton. b. The English School ; The Mills, Bent ham, Lewes. 3. Influence of the Clergy. Whately, Keble, Robertson, Maurice, Kings- ley. 4. Influence of Scientists. Whewell, Herschel, Faraday, Miller. 5* Reviewers and Essftyists. Smith, Gi/ford, Lock hart. Wilson, Hazlitt, Lamb, De Quincey, Carlyle. CHAPTEB XXV!!!. THE MODERN NOVELISTS. THE department of English literature which has been culti- vated during the latter half of the last and the first half of the present century with the greatest assiduity and success, is prose fiction. Its authors and their productions should be classified under the two general divisions of fiction as they were set forth in a preceding chapter, viz. : I. Romances properly so called, *. e., the narration of picturesque and romantic adventures ; II. Novels, or pictures of real life and society. I. Romances. — The impulse to this branch of composition was first given by Horace Walpole (1717-1797) (326), the fastidious dilettante and brilliant chronicler of the court scandal of his day ; a man of singularly acute penetration, of sparkling epigrammatic style, but devoid of enthusiasm and elevation. He retired early from political life, and shut himself up in his little fantastic Gothic castle of Strawberry Hill, to collect armor, medals, manuscripts, and painted glass; and to chronicle with malicious assiduity, in his vast and brilliant correspondence, the absurdities, follies, and weaknesses of his day. The Castle of Otranto is a short tale, writ- ten with great rapidity and without preparation. It was the first successful attempt to take the Feudal Age as the period, and the passion of mysterious, superstitious terror as the motive in the action of an interesting fiction. The manners are absurd and un- natural, the character of the heroine being one of those portraits in which the sentimental languor of the eighteenth century is added to the gentlewoman of the Middle Ages — in short, one of those contradictions to be found in all the romantic fictions before Scott. Mrs. Ann Radcliffe. — The success of Walpole's original and cleverly-written tale encouraged other and more accomplished art- ists to follow in the same track. The most popular of this class was Mrs. Ann Radcliffe (1764-1823), whose numerous romances ap- 372 MRS. SHELLEY. peal with power to the emotion of fear. Her two greatest %vorks are The Romance of the Forest and The Myderies of Udolpho. The personages of these stories have no more individuality than the pieces of a chess-board ; but they are made the exponents of such terrible and intense fear, suffering, and suspense, that we sympa- thize with their fate as if they were real. At the beginning of the century her romances were held in the highest esteem by all read- ers. Men of letters — Talfourd, Byron, Scott- applauded her: but her fame is declining, and she is now known only by the students of literature. The effect of this kind of writing was so powerful that it was attempted by a crowd of authors. Most of them are forgotten ; but there are two other names worthy of special men- tion. Matthew Gregory Lewis (1775-1818), a good-natured, effemi- nate man of fashion, the friend of Byron, and one of the early liter- ary advisers of Scott, was the first to introduce into England a taste for the German literature of that day, with its spectral ballads and enchantments. He was a man of lively imagination ; and besides bis metrical translations of the ballads of Burger, he published in his twentieth year a prose romance called The Monk, one of the boldest of hobgoblin stories. Mrs. Shelley (1798-1851), the wife of the poet, and the daughter of William Godwin, wrote the powerful tale of Frankenstein. Its hero, a young student of physiology, succeeds in constructing, out of the horrid remnants of the churchyard and dissecting-room, a monster, to which he afterwards gives life. Some of the chief appearances of the monster, particularly the moment when he begins to move for the first time, and towards the end of the book, among the eternal snows of the Arctic Circle, are managed with a striking and breathless effect, that makes us for a moment forget the extravagance of the tale. IT. The Novel.— No field of literature can be compared in fruit- fulness with the English novel of the century just passed. A story of human life appeals to human sympathy as nothing else can ; and the novelist has but to take advantage of that fact. Moreover, he finds inexhaustible resources. Each one of the possible localities for the scene of a story, and each one of the infinite variations of WILLIAM GODWIN. 373 human character are ready to answer his summons. The romance appeals to the credulity, to the curiosity of a reader ; the novel may speak to the tenderest and most intelligent sympathies. In this vast field of authorship we merely glance at a few writers who have been most popular. Kichardson, Fielding, and Smollett, the first great English novelists, and Walter Scott, poet and novelist, have already found their appropriate places in our discussion. Frances Burney (1752-1840) was the daughter of Dr. Burney, author of the History of Music. While yet residing at her father's house, she, in moments of leisure, composed the novel of Evelina, published in 1778. She did not even communicate to her father the secret of her having written it, until the astonishing success of the fiction rendered her avowal triumphant and almost necessary. Evelina was followed in 1782 by Cecilia, a novel of the same character. In 1786 Miss Burney received an appointment in the household of Queen Charlotte, where she remained till her marriage with Count d'Arblay, a French refugee officer. She published after her marriage a novel entitled Camilla, and two years after her death her Diary and Letters appeared. An eminent place in this class of writers belongs to William Godwin (1756-1836), a man of powerful and original genius, who devoted his whole life to the propagation of social and political theories — visionary, indeed, and totally impracticable, but marked with the impress of benevolence and philanthropy. His long life was incessantly occupied with literary activity. The first and finest of his fictions is Caleb Williams (1794). Its aim is to show the misery and injustice arising from the present imperfect constitution of society, and the oppression of defective laws, not merely those of the statute-book, but also those of social feeling and public opinion. Caleb Williams is an intelligent peasant-lad, taken into the service of Falkland. Falkland, the true hero, is an incarnation of honor, in- tellect, benevolence, and passionate love of fame, who, in a moment of ungovernable passion, has committed a murder, for which he al- lows an innocent man to be executed. This circumstance, partly by accident, partly by his master's voluntary confession, Williams /earns, and is in consequence pursued through the greater part of the tale by the unrelenting persecution of Falkland, who is now 374 MARIA EDGE WORTH. led, by his frantic and unnatural devotion to fame, to annihilate, in Williams, the evidence of his guilt. The adventures of the unfor- tunate fugitive, his dreadful vicissitudes of poverty and distress, the steady pursuit, the escapes and disguise3 of the victim, like the agonized turnings and doublings of the hunted hare — all this is so depicted that the reader follows the story with breathless interest. At last Caleb is accused by Falkland of robbery, and naturally dis- closes before the tribunal the dreadful secret which has caused his long persecution, and Falkland dies of shame and a broken heart. The interest of this tale is indescribable ; the various scenes are set before us with something of the minute reality and simplicity of Defoe. " There is no work of fiction which more rivets the atten- tion — no tragedy which exhibits a struggle more sublime, or suffer- ing more intense, than this; yet to produce the effect, no compli- cated machinery is employed, but the springs of action are few and simple." * Maria Edgeworth (1767-1849) passed nearly all of her long and useful life in Ireland. Many of her earlier works were produced in partnership with her father, Richard Lovell Edgeworth, a man of eccentric character, and of great intellectual activity. The most valuable series of Miss Edgeworth's educational stories were the charming tales entitled FranJc, Harry and Lucy, Rosamond, and others combined under the general heading of Early Lessons. These are written in the simplest style, and are intelligible and interesting even to very young readers ; while the knowledge of character they display, the naturalness of their incidents, and the practical principles they inculcate, make them delightful even to the adult reader. The first, the most original, and the best of her stories is OadU RacJcrent. Abounding in humor and pathos, it sets forth with dramatic effect the follies and vices of the Irish landlords, who have caused so much of the misery of the Irish people. In the novel. of Patronage, and The Absentee, other social mors, either peculiar to that country or common to many countries, are powerfully de- lineated. Miss Edgeworth has done for her countrymen what Scott did with such loving genius for the Scottish people. The s rendered by her to the cause of common sense are incalculable. Walter Scott says that " Some one has described the novels of Mis-- * T. N. Talfourd. CHARLOTTE BRONTE. 375 Edgeworth as a sort of essence of common sense, and the definition is not inappropriate." The singular absence of enthusiasm in her writings, whether religious, political, or social, only makes us won- der at the force, vivacity, and consistency with which she has drawn a large and varied gallery of characters. Jane Austen (1775-1817), was the daughter of a clergyman, well connected. Miss Austen's life was marked by elegant moderation. Thousands of women of her rank in England lived as she did, mas- tering the intricacies of needlework and endearing themselves to their families. Miss Austen's letters show little interest in the ex- citing politics or in the literary questions of her day. So com- pletely did she identify herself with the class to which she belonged, that few of her acquaintances suspected her power. Many of them would have echoed the question of the verger who, pointing to her grave, asked, " Pray, sir, can you tell me whether there was any- thing particular about that lady ? " The recognition of her literary worth, which came tardily, has been hearty. Lord Macaulay is only the most illustrious of the critics who have assigned to her a high rank as a novelist. She is pre-eminently the literary artist of the commonplace. Under her skilful hand the conventional Eng- lish drawing-room becomes a theatre, where oddities, foibles, and sterling worth have their well-appointed parts. The reader is not worked up to a pitch of enthusiasm by delineations of passion, or by the analysis of emotions ; but he is often amused and always in- terested by the exercise of an art so perfect that it is almost unsus- pected. The most brilliant of Miss Austen's novels is Pride and Prejudice (1813). Her other works are Sense and Sensibility (1811), Mansfield Park (1814), Emma (1816). Northanger Alley and Per- suasion were not published until after her death, although the former was the first novel she wrote. Charlotte Bronte (1816-1855) was the daughter of a clergyman of Haworth in Yorkshire. Her career is an illustration of the in- fluence of early impressions and surroundings upon the mind. Of six motherless children left to the care of the Rev. Patrick Bronte, only four lived long enough to see in him anything but a stem and self-occupied man, who set them tasks or interrupted their play with horrid stories that made them afraid to go to bed at night. 376 MART KUSSELL MIT FORD. The scenery of Yorkshire was bleak and forbidding, the house in which the family lived damp and unhealthy — its outlook the parish graveyard; but the children growing up amid such surroundings were sensitive to every change in the face of the stern landscape, and came to love it with a passionate devotion. Their few opportuni- ties for gaining culture threw them back with a despairing reliance upon their own resources. Of these six children, three have been known as the writers of remarkable books. One of them, Char- lotte, gained a literary success which has put her name in the list of the most powerful writers of fiction. Her books were all written in the stress of mental suffering, the materials were taken from her own limited experience, thus making it almost necessary that what- ever of force or of originality existed in the writer should be repro- duced in the words. Charlotte Bronte's words are protests against the conventionality which has from time to time threatened to de- stroy the vigor of English thinking, the health of its social life, and the power of its religion. While Thackeray's satire was uncover- ing the shams of society, Miss Bronte gave a powerful delineation of the realities which society was ignoring. Her influence began and ended abruptly. The popular admiration which exaggerated her merits, and the popular criticism which blackened her faults, have both died away, and the critic may make a calm and fair esti- mate of the services of the woman who was the literary forerunner of George Eliot. The tenor of Miss Bronte's life was uneventful. For years sick- ness and death were almost the only variations in the monotonous story of the Haworth parsonage. Jane Eyre was published in 1847 over the name of Currer Bell, and made a sensation. Sliirhy was published in 1849, and VUlette in 1853. Shirley is the only one of Miss Bronte's works which displays any humor, while VUlette is by far the most deserving of praise for artistic finish. In 1854 Miss Bronte* married Mr. Nicholls, her father's curate, and gave up all literary ambition. She died in 1855. Her life has been written by Mrs. Gaskell, herself a novelist of great merit. The charming sketches of Mary Russell Mitford (1789-1855), a lady who has described the village life and scenery of BngUftd with the grace and delicacy of Goldsmith himself, seem destined to hold a place in our literature long after the once popular novels of her FREDERICK MAERYATT. 377 famous contemporaries shall have been forgotten. Our Village is one of the most delightful books in the language. Miss Mitford describes with the truth and fidelity of Crabbe and Cowper, but without the moral gloom of the one, or the morbid sadness of the other. Frederick Marryat. — The immense colonial possessions of Great Britain, and the Englishman's passion for knowing about foreign nations, have turned the attention of English novelists to the de- lineation of the manners and scenery of ancient and distant coun- tries. They have also found ready applause for stories of sea-life. England's cherished pride over her long supremacy on the sea has given the masses of her readers admiration for the sailor, and sym- pathy with the hardships of his life. Captain Marryat (1792-1848), one of the most easy, lively, and truly humorous story-tellers, stands at the head of the marine novelists. High, effervescent, ir- repressible animal spirits characterize everything he has written. He seems half-tipsy with the gayety of his heart, and never scruples to introduce grotesque extravagances of character, lan- guage, and event, provided they are likely to excite a laugh. Nothing can surpass the liveliness and drollery of his Peter Simple, Jacob Faithful, or Mr. Midshipman Easy. Marryat's narratives are often improbable; but we read on with delight, never thinking of the story, solicitous only to follow the adventures and laugh at the characters. In many passages he has shown a mastery over the pa- thetic emotions. Though superficial in his view of character, he is generally faithful to reality, and shows an extensive if not very deep knowledge of what his old waterman calls " human natur." There are few authors more amusing than Marryat. William Makepeace Thackeray (1811-1863) was one of the greatest among modern novelists. He was born in Calcutta, the son of an English official. In his very early years he was sent away from his Eastern home to receive his education in England. After a careful training he was admitted to the University of Cambridge. He did not remain there long; for the death of his father had left him wealth, and freedom to direct his own course of study. His desire was to become an artist. He left the University without his degree, and spent four or five years in France, Italy, and Germany. 378 WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. His study of the masterpieces of the great painters made him dis- trust his own abilities. But his life abroad gave him stores of knowledge valuable for his later literary work. On returning to London he continued his art studies ; but the loss of his fortune compelled him to throw himself with all his powers into the field of literature. He was first known by his articles in Fraser's Maga- zine, contributed under the names of Michael Angelo Titmarsh and George Fitzboodle, Esq. Tales, criticism, and poetry appeared in great profusion, and were illustrated by the author's own pencil. The chief of his contributions to the magazine was the tale of Barry Lyndon, The Adventures of an Irish Fortune-hunter. This was full of humor and incident, but the reading public was not yet expecting a great future for this unknown writer. In 1841 Punch was commenced, to which Thackeray contributed the Snob Papers, JeameJs Diary, and many other papers in prose and verse. In 1846 and the two following years Vanity Fair appeared, by many sup- posed to be the best of his works — certainly the most original. The novel was not complete before its author took his place 1846J among the great writers of English fiction. The writer of satirical sketches aud mirthful poems had shown himself to be a consummate satirist, and a great novelist. Vanity Fair, the first of Thackeray's famous works, is called " A Novel without a Hero." It has, however, two heroines — Rebecca Shaip, the impersonation of intellect without heart, and Amelia Sedley, who has heart without intellect ; the former is one of the most brilliant creations of modern fiction. As a whole the book is full of quiet sarcasm and rebuke; but a careful reading will per- ceive the kindly heart that is beating under the bitterest sentence and the most caustic irony. Pendennu, published in 1849 and 1850, was the immediate suc- cessor of Vanity Fair. Literary life presents scope for description, and is well used in the history of Pen, a hero of no very great worth. As Vanity Fair gives us Thackeray's knowledge of life in the present day, so Exrnond exhibits his intimate acquaintance with the society of the reigns of t lie later Stuarts and the earlier (Jeor. Like Vanity Fair, it is without plot, and gives in an autobio- graphical form the history of Colonel Henry Esmond. The styl© of a century and a half ago is reproduced with marvelous fidelity. CHARLES DICKENS. 37? The Virginians is the history of the grandsons of Esmond. It consists of a series of well -described scenes and incidents in the reign of George III. The most popular of Thackeray's novels is Tlie Newcomer. " The leading theme or moral of the story is the misery occasioned by forced or ill-assorted marriages." The noble courtesy, the Christian gentlemanliness of Colonel Newcome is per- haps a reflection of the author himself. Ethel Newcome is Thacke- ray's favorite womanly character. The minor personages are most life-like, while throughout the whole there is a clear exhibition of the real kindliness of Thackeray's heart. His two courses of lectures On the English Humorists and The Four Georges, are models of style and criticism. Charles Dickens (1812-1870) was the most popular novelist of his day. The two men, Dickens and Thackeray, stood side by side, each industrious, each effective in his work, each appreciating and applauding the other. Dickens's father intended that he should follow the profession of the law ; but it was distasteful to him, and he abandoned it for the busy life of a reporter to one of the London newspapers. This work gave him opportunities for observing the characters and habits of the poorer classes. His mind was quick to notice eccentricities of human nature. He could not refrain from the delineation of what he saw in men and women, and so he was soon furnishing " Sketches of Life and Character " to the columns of his journal. These papers were after- wards published as Sketches oy Boz. The volume had a ready sale Its author was called upon to write a book representing the adven- tures of a company of Cockney sportsmen, which Mr. Seymour, a comic artist of the day, was to furnish with illustrations. The volume was published in monthly parts ; and the first number ap- peared in 1836, bearing the title of The Posthumous Papers 1836] of the Pickwick Club. It was hailed with delight. The author's fame began, and he was regarded by all classes of readers as a writer of the most radiant humor. Everybody was merry over Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller, and everybody was eager to read this entertaining author. Volume after volume came from his pen. There seemed to be no limit to his power of carica- ture, no weariness to him in observing the drolleries of life, no blunting to his sense of fun. After writing Nicholas Nickleby % 380 CHARLES DICKENS. Oliver Twist, The Old Curiosity Shop, and Barnaby Rudge, he made his first visit to America. His fame here was as great as in Eng* land, and lie was received with hearty welcome. The visit fur- nished him with material for two new works, American Notes for General Circulation and Martin Chuzdewit. The keen satirist had witnessed some of our national follies, and he was most severe in his exposure of them. Americans then thought, and still think, that he exaggerated our faults. It was natural for him to do that. All of his creations are exaggerations. The dominant faculty of his mind is his observation of peculiarities, and in painting them he distorts and misrepresents the unpeculiar qualities of a character. After his visit to America he spent a year in Italy, and then, return- ing to London, he entered upon the busiest years of his active life. He established and edited The Daily News ; but finding the work uncongenial, he began again the writing of fiction. Dombey and Son, David Copjierjield, and Bleak House appeared, to delight his rapturous readers. In 1850 Dickens took charge of a weekly paper, called Household Words, and gained for it a large circula- tion. Afterwards he started his own All the Tear Round, and con- tributed to it, in instalments, his later novels. Among the most charming of Dickens's works are his Chrixtmas Stories. One came from his pen each year after 1843. The children and the old folk will probably read A Chridmas Carol, The Cricket on the Hearth, and The Chimes long after his more elaborate stories have been forgotten. Dickens's vigorous constitution broke down from des- perate overwork, and he died suddenly in 1870 " No one thinks first of Mr. Dickens as a writer. He is at once, through his books, a friend. He belongs among the intimates of every pleasant-tempered and large-hearted person. He is not so much the guest as the inmate of our homes. He keeps holidays with us, he helps us to celebrate Christmas with heartier cheer, lie shares at every New Year in our good wishes; for, indeed, it is not in his purely literary character that he has done most for us, it is as a man of the largest humanity, who has simply used literature as the means by which to bring himself into relation with hfc fellow-men, and to inspire them with something of his own sweet- ness, kindness, charity, and good-will.'' * * North American Review, April, 1868. BULWER-LYTTON, DISRAELI. 381 Sir Edward George Bulwer-Lytton (1805-1873) was the son of General Bulwer. In 1844, upon inheriting his mother's estates, he was granted the privilege of adding her family name, Lytton, to his surname. In boyhood he made his first contribution to the shelves of the English libraries, and throughout his youth and manhood he was an unceasing writer. A few poems, a few dramas, occasional political papers, and a multitude of novels, have come from his pen. His principal novels are Eugene Aram, The Last Days of Pomp'i Rienzi, My Novel, The Gaxtons, and TJie Parisians. " The special aoility of Bulwer appears to lie in the delineation of that passion with which the novel is so deeply concerned, the pas- sion of love. All true and manly passions, let it be said, are honored and illustrated in his pages. But he stands alone among novelists of his sex in the portraiture of love. The heroism, the perfect trust, the strength in death, are painted by him with a sympathetic truth for which we know not where to seek a parallel."* . Not one of the wits who have written in this century for the theater deserves higher praise than Bulwer-Lytton. His " Riche- lieu" and "Lady of Lyons" have literary excellence as well as adaptation to the stage. It may reasonably be doubted whether Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of Beaconsfield (1805-1880), does not owe his place among men of letters to the fact that he was Prime Minister of England and a peer of the realm. His many novels have, however, kept his name con- stantly before the reading public. They reflect his career in a measure, for they expound his political and social theories, and sketch the prominent personages of his time. All are characterized by a fluent but incorrect style, by daring flights of fancy, and florid, somewhat bombastic rhetoric. Vivian Grey; The Young Diike ; Tan- cred, or the New Crusade ; Coningsby, or the New Generation, are the best of them. Lothair and Endymion, published when their author, as leader of the English Conservatives, was at the height of his political fame, attracted much attention because of their many portraitures of distinguished people. Lord Beaconsfield was an industrious writer. He produced many political pamphlets, a Life of Lord George Bentinck, several poems, and edited most of the works of his father, Isaac Disraeli (1776-1848). * Bayne. 382 TROLLOP E, READE Anthony Trollope (1815-1883) may be styled the great photog* rapher of English society in the nineteenth century. Born of a respectable but impoverished family, he experienced during his boyhood as much neglect and hardship as fell to the lot of Johnson or Dickens. In his early manhood he entered the service of the Post-Office Department, where he slowly worked his way upward to an honorable position. At the age of thirty-two he published his first novel, and, not discouraged by its lack of success, he con- tinued to write until he won the regard of a publi , liich has since given kindly hearing to scores of his productions. His aim was to represent life as he found it, without exaggeration, without false col- oring. He has neither great creati ve power nor deep poetic feeling but his kindly spirit and perfect purity of sentiment make his writ- ings invariably healthy in tpne ; and he has the remarkable gift of nar- rating everyday occurrences in an entertaining manner. His Auto- biography (1883) gives a frank account of the struggles which finally lifted him to wealth and literary distinction, also a chrono- logical list of his writings, — essays, books of travel, and novels. Among these last it is hard to particularize because of their general excellence in their own line. Perhaps Orley Farm, La Vendee, Tlie Bertrams, Is HePopenjoyf and the so-called ''clerical series," begin- ning with The Warden and closing with TJie Last Chronicles of Barset, most favorably represent his powers. Charles Keade (1814-1884), like Trollope, represents the realis- tic school of fiction. Born in Oxfordshire, he was graduated at the neighboring university, and held one of its fellowships throughout his life. He was educated for the law; but his thoughts tamed towards literature, and in 1850, when his story of Peg Wojfington appeared, he was recognized as a novelist of power. Christie John- stone was received with yet heartier applause. Among his famous stories are The Cloister and the Hearth ; Very I hud Cash ; Griffith Oaunt, or Jealousy ; Put Yourself M Bit Place; Never Too Late to Mend; and A Terrible Temptation. These novels, written in a style ragged and often crude, are full of energy, and are marked by strong moral purpose. They attack abuses in the English prison system, or the mismanagement of hospitals, or the tyranny of trades unions. Abounding in striking incidents and in dramatic fire, they have been found easily adaptable to the uses of the stage GEORGE ELIOT. 383 Reade wrote a few dramas, and believed them to be the best pro- ductions of his pen. Mary Ann Evans (George Eliot). The biography of George Eliot (1819-1880), the most admired of modern English novelists, has been, until very recently, clouded with as much uncertainty as surrounds the great dramatist of the sixteenth century. The high- est praise she has received compares her genius with Shakespeare's ; like his, it won recognition independently of social position and per- sonal influence. Like Shakespeare, again, she was a native of War- wickshire, and sprung from the rugged, strong-brained, upward- pushing English middle class. The youngest of five children, diffi- dence and self-consciousness held her somewhat apart from youthful companions ; but her childhood seems to have been rather serene than otherwise, and as she grew into womanhood, unusual love and ven- eration marked her relations to her widowed father, the prototype of her Adam Bede. She was carefully educated in schools of local repute, and received especial training in Latin, French, and English composition. In 1841, when her father removed to Foleshill, near Coventry, Mary Ann was already a student of books, of nature, and of men. She continued her study of music and modern languages, learned Greek " in order to read ^Eschylus," and even taught herself something of Hebrew. Through converse with cultured friends she was drawn towards metaphysics and history, and began to investigate their bearing upon religion. By nature she was earnest and devout ; however, her speculative tendencies soon put her into a critical attitude towards her inherited Calvinism. Her doubt and question eventually grew into agnosticism ; but her reverence for sincere belief of all shades is evinced in many of her noblest creations. Her first literary essay was a spirited and scholarly translation of Strauss's Life of Jesus (1846) ; it won her the applause of many dis- tinguished thinkers, and though an equally able translation of Feuerbach's Essence of Christianity (1854), aroused less general in- terest, it confirmed the first estimate of her ability. At thirty-two years of age, when her talents had long ripened in " the still air of delightful studies," and she had attained an almost Miltonic range of knowledge, came the turning-point in her career. The death of her father (1849) had broken her local attachments and deeply unsettled her spirit, and in 1851 she gladly accepted an 384 GEORGE ELIOT. invitation to go up to London and become the assistant editor of the Westminster Review. Through its pages she gave to the world a long and brilliant series of essays on topics critical, literary, bio- graphical, artistic, and ethical. Her labors were brightened by in tercourse with choice friends, among whom were James and Harriet Martineau, Herbert Spencer, and George Henry Lewes. It was in 1854 that she entered upon her life-long union with Mr. Lewes, influenced by the recognition of mutual helpfulness, and by a con- scientious dissent from certain stipulations of the English law of marriage.* The abstract morality of the step, and its ultimate influ- ence upon her happiness, are still matters of fierce dispute. It certainly marked the great crisis of her life. Many of her friends were shocked and alienated ; she was thrown back more than ever before upon her own moral resources. On the other hand, her hus- band's vivacious, appreciative criticism was of infinite service to her intellectual life. He first discerned in her the novelist's powers, and at his instance her Scenes of Clerical Life were published in Black- wood's Magazine (1857) over her since famous pseudonym. They set the reading world on fire with admiration and curiosity ; and when Adam Bede appeared, in 1859, the note of enthusiasm became so strong as to beget spurious claims to its authorship. Mrs. Lewes now revealed her identity to Mr. Blackwood, and the next year her mask was entirely thrown aside. The Mill on the Floss (1860), fol- lowed by Silas Marner, the Weaver of Raveloe (1861), firmly estab- lished her popularity. Her girlhood's associates had been aston- ished by her exquisite portrayal of familiar provincial scenes and personages; her next work, Romola (1862-1863), embodied equally conscientious studies of Florentine life in the fifteenth century. Critics have differed widely concerning its artistic perfection, but uni- versal consent ranks it high as an historical study — a grand narrative. Appreciative publishers and eager readers now welcomed ever? effort of Mrs. Lewes's toilsome but productive pen. Felix Holt, the Radical, (1866), the dramatic poem entitled Tfie SjHinish Gypsy (1868), Middlemarch (1871), The Legend of Jubal and other Poems (1874), Daniel Deronda (1876), though varying in their com- mand of popular sympathy, all gave evidence of profound observa- tion, of deep poetic and philosophic insight, of a truly Shakes- * Mr. Lewes, although separated from his first wife upon ju«t and sufficient grounds, could not, according to English law, be divorced from her. GEORGE ELIOT. 385 pearian range of creative power. Mrs. Lewes's literary fame had long since lifted her above social proscription, but the last years of her life were destined to be the most checkered. In 1878, the death of Mr. Lewes drew all hearts toward her in sympathy, which changed to amazement when, scarcely two years later, she married John Walter Cross, a London banker many years her junior. Half a year more, and sudden illness had closed her life, and filled the English-speaking world with a sense of bereavement. George Eliot's latest publication was Theophrastus Such (1879), a volume of essays prepared before Mr. Lewes's death. The common verdict found it perceptibly lacking in freshness and vigor. Un- doubtedly its author's enduring fame will rest upon her novels. They have made and marked an epoch in the development of English thought ; no others have been so much discussed by eminent critics. More symmetrical and finished than any other English fiction, they are also superior in dramatic force, in variety of types, in subtle, life-like blending of pathos and humor. In them, as in the Eliza- bethan drama, development of character, not intricacy of plot, is the motive. But the author shared the limitations of her age. Her noblest efforts bear the marks of a sometimes too-labored syn- thesis. Her admirers often miss in her the naivete, the fresh spon- taneity of a Fielding or a Scott. For this reason, also, George Eliot's poetry, though lofty in sentiment and perfect in structure, takes rank below her prose. And her agnosticism, while it is tempered with sweet humanity and unselfish courage, is the mourn- ful exponent of a world which has unlearned its simple faith. Ill this chapter we have considered:— The Modem Novelists, 1, Horace Walpole ; 2. Ann Radcliffe ; 3, Matthew Gregory Lewis ; 4. 31rs. Shelley ; 5. Frances JBumey ; 6*. William Godwin; 7. Maria Fdgeworth ; 8, Jane Austen ; 9, Charlotte Bronte; 10, Mary Russell Mitford ; 11. Frederick Marry at ; 12. William Make- peace Thackeray ; 13. Charles Dickens ; 14, Sir Fdward George Bulwer-Lytton ; 15, Benjamin Disraeli; 16, Anthony Trollope ; 17. Charles Reade ; 18, George Eliot, WALTER SCOTT. Byron, Moore, Shelley, Keats, Campbell, Hunt, Landor, and Hooc: Mrs. Browning. THE LAKE SCHOOL. William Wordsworth, S. T. Coleridge, Robert Southey. uj ••* z.J THE HISTORIANS. THE PHILOSOPHERS. THE CLERGY. THE SCIENTISTS. Connop Thirlwall, George Grote. Thomas Babington Macatjlay, Henry Hallam, Henry Hart Mdlman, Henry Thomas Buckle. Thomas Reid, Dugald Stewart, Thomas Broavn, Sir William Hamilton, James Mill, Jeremy Bentbam, John Stuart Mill, George Henry Lewes. Richard Whately, John Keble, Thomas Arnold, F. W. Robertson, J. F. D. Maurice, Charles Kingpley. William Whewell, Sir John Herschel, MicnAEL Faraday, Hugh Miller. THE ESSAYISTS. Francis Jeffrey, Sydney Smith, John Gibson Lockhart John Wilson, William Hazlitt, Charles Lamb, Thomas DeQuincey, Thomas Carlyle. THE MODERN NOVELISTS. Horace Walpolb, Ann Radcliffe, Matthew Gregory Lewis, Mrs. Shelley, - BUBJilX, William Godwin, Maria Epgkworth, Jane Au-tkn Charlotte Bronte. M un Rtreaw i kfixroBD, Frederick Marry at, William Makxpsaoi Thackkray, Chablu Dii : sik i:i>u lrd Gbobgi BulwerLyttor Benjamin Di-raeli. Anthony Trollope, Charles Reads, George Eliot. A LIST OF THE POETS LAUREATE. Edmund Spenser 1591—1599 Samuel Daniel 1599—1619 Ben jotcon 1619—1637 (Interregnum) William Davenant, Knight .... 1660—1668 *John Dryden 1670—1689 Thomas Shadwell 1689—1692 Nahum Tate 1692—1715 Nicholas Kowe 1715—1718 t Lawrence Eusden 1718—1730 Collet Cibber . . . . . . . 1730—1757 William Whitehead 1757—1785 Thomas Warton 1785—1790 \ Henry James Pye 1790—1813 Robert Southey 1813—1843 William Wordsworth 1843 — 1850 Alfred Tennyson 1850 — * Though Dryden did not receive his letters-patent until the year 1670, he never- theless was paid the salary for the two preceding years. t For Eusden see "Dunciad," Book I., line 63; and for Colley Cibber, see same work passim. % "Better to err with Pope than shine with Pye," says Lord Byron, in his 1 Hints from Horace.' And again in the ' Vision of Judgment,' the same poet repre- sents the ghost of King George as exclaiming, on hearing Southey's recitation of his ' Vision '— "What, what! Pye come again ? no more— no more of that 1 " It is by these notices alone that poor Pye stills hangs on the human memory. 388 THE RULERS OF ENGLAND THE SAXON LINE. f Egbert, (King of the West Saxons, com- monly called the ftrst king of England), A. i>. 827—836. Ethelwolf, 836—857. Ethelred, 857—871. Alfred the Great, 871—901. Edward, 901-925. Atiielstan. 925—941. Edmund, 941—948. Edred, 948-955. Edwy, 955—959. Edgar the Peaceable, 959—975. Edward II., 975-979. Ethelred the Unready, 979— 10Jo- Edmund Ironsides, 1016—1017. THE DANISH LINE. ( Canute the Great, 1017- •< Harold, 1035— 103«.». / Hardicanute, 1029—1041. 1035. THE SAXON LINE RESTORED. J Edward the Confessor, 1041-1066 \ Harold, 1066. THE NORMAN LINE. THE PLANTAGENETS. THE TUDORS. THE STUARTS. f William the Conqueror, 1066—1087. I William II. (BfcfUB), 1087-1100. 1 Henry I., 1100—1135. (.Stephen of Blois, 1135—1154. Henry II, 1154-1189. Richard I., 1189—1199. John, 119!)— 1216. Henry III., 1216—1272. Edward 1., 1272-1307. Edward II., 1307-1327. Edward III., 1327—1377. Richard II.. 1377—1399. Henry IV., 13M-1413. Henry V., 1413—1422. Henry VI., 1422-1461. Edward IV., 1461-1483. Edward V., 1483. Richard HI., 1483-1485. ! Henry VII., 1485-1509. Henry VIII., 1509-1547. Edward VI., 1547-1558. Mary, 1553—1568. Ki.izabeth, 1558—1603. j James I., 1603-1625. 1 Charles I., 1625-1649. The Commonwealth, 1649—1680. THE STUARTS AFTER THE I Charles H. 1660-1685. RESTORATION. 1 «^mes II., 1685-1688. William HI., 1688-1702. and Mary, (died 1694). THE HOUSE OF NASSAU. THE LAST OF THE STUARTS Anne, 1702—1714. f George I., 1714—1727. George II., 1727-1760. ithe house of brunswick. g£™J l&SfcJB j \\ u ham 1\ .. HJ0— 1887. [Victoria, 1887- | Micl Seward (94). The historical labors of American men of letters wen- foreshad- owed by the colonial records and by the historical societies of our POLITICAL LITERATURE. 443 first half century of national existence. Much of what was dona possesses little or no artistic merit, but is most helpful to the later historians. Our colonial period has been exhaustively treated by Francis Parkman (145), who has published five parts of a work on France and England in North America. Henry Cabot Lodge has written A Short History of the English Colonies in America (1881). Its last three chapters are of special interest to the student of American literature. The men and times of the Revolution have been studied by George W. Greene (108), Dr. Benson J. Lossing, and Dr. Jared Sparks (124). Dr. Sparks published (1834-40) editions of the writings of Washington and Franklin, containing careful biographies. In 1830 his Diplomatic Correspondence of the American Revolution appeared. The Civil War called forth Horace Greeley's American Conflict (1864), an animated account of the struggle in which he, as editor of the New York Tribune and an ardent supporter of anti-slavery principles, was deeply interested (164—167)- The War between the States, written by Alexander H. Stephens, recounts the Southern view of the same questions (100). Dr. John W. Draper (215—216), and Vice-President Wilson, have also contributed to this branch of literature. Kirk's history of Charles the Bold, Eliot's History of Liberty, and the popular histories of Jacob and John S. C. Abbott, fairly repre- sent our labor in foreign fields. James Kent's Commentaries on American Law (76), Henry Whea- tons International Law, Dr. Woolsey's works on international and political science (161), and Henry C. Carey's efforts in favor of Protection (155), are the best known of a large class of books written in the interest of justice and material welfare. Curiously enough, the group of men who have reached the high- est distinction in this line of work are all from Massachusetts. The History of New England (1858), (149), was by John G. Palfrey (1796-1881), a Bostonian, a professor at Harvard, the editor of the North American Review (1835-1843), a leader of the Free-Soil party, and, as one of his friends has expressed it, " an example of the accomplished Christian lawyer." Richard Hildreth (1807-1865) made his way to the authorship 444 BANCROFT, MOTLEY. of a successful History of the United States through practice in othef branches of literature. Having graduated from Harvard at nine- teen, he studied law, wrote newspaper articles on the annexation of Texas, a History of Banks (1840), and an anti-slavery novel called \Archy Moore, which was republished in England. ' His Theory of Morals (1844), and the Theory of Politics (1853) ; embody an attitude similar to that of Jeremy Bentham. The first volume of the History of the United States appeared in 1849, the last, three years later. Mr. Hildreth was remarkable for his power of long-continued mental application. George Bancroft (129—133) was born with the century. He graduated from Harvard in 1817, aud continued his studies in Europe. As a prominent member of the Democratic party, he received the position of Collector of the Port of Boston (1838), was made Secretary of the Navy in 1845, and Minister Plenipotentiary to England (1846-1849). His History of the United States is not only his most important work, but is the best that has been written on the subject. The first volume appeared in 1834, the twelfth in 1882. The style is clear and picturesque, all events being treated in the light of the philosophical development of certain principles inherent in the character and conditions of the early colonists. John Lothrop Motley (1814-1877) graduated at Harvard in 1831, studied in Gottingen and Berlin, and was admitted to the bar in 1836. He wrote two unsuccessful novels, Morton's Hope and Merry Mount; but in 1846 he had definitely addressed himself to the task of writing a history of Holland. He became dissatisfied with the materials at his command in America, and in 1851 sailed for Europe with his family. Tlie Rise of the Dutch Republic ( 1856) was the result of his studies in Berlin, Dresden, and The Hague. It was received with enthusiasm in Europe as well as in America; was translated into Dutch, German, French, rod IJussian. The History of the United Netherlands appeared between 1861 and 1868, and the Life of John of liarnn;U in 1874. Motley's histories have the interest of thrilling narration. He was Minister to Austria from 1861 until nil resignation in 1867. and was appointed to represent America at the English Court in 1869 (139-141). WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT. 445 William Hickling Prescott (1796-1859) was one of the oldest, and in many respects the most remarkable, of American historians. He was a junior at Harvard in 1813, when an accident put out one of his eyes and seriously injured the other. Thenceforth he was obliged to regulate the activity of his life in accordance with the requirements of this infirmity. He determined to be an historian, undertook a vast and varied amount of study, and carried it through successfully with the help of secretaries. In 1838, after nearly ten years of labor, he had written the history of Ferdinand and Isabella. It was at once translated into Spanish, Italian, and German. The Conquest of Mexico (1843), The Conquest of Peru (1847), and Philip the Second (1855-1858), have fully sustained the interest roused by his first attempt. Mr. Prescott also published, in 1849, & volume of Critical and Historical Miscellanies (126 — 128). In this chapter we have considered : — 1. James Russell Lowell, 2. Political and Historical Literature. 3. Henry Cabot Lodge. 4. Richard Hildreth. 5. George Bancroft. 6. John Lothrop Motley. 7. William Hickling Prescott. CHAPTER ¥!!!. EMERSON AND THE CONCORD SCHOOL. M All his earnest is good earnest ; and, unlike many critics, as well of philosophy as of literature, he shows no trace in himself of the evils he deprecates in others." — Westminster Review \ 1840. " Emerson sits under the tree planted by Fichte."— Westminster Review, 1870. " No sweeter soul e'er trod earth's ways." — WWiam Sharp. M More genial and more delicate than Carlyle, he nevertheless had much in com- mon with the English philosopher, and his loss will be keenly felt on both s-idrs of the Atlantic."— London Standard. u As Wordsworth's poetry is, in my judgment, the most important work done ii verse in our language during the century, so Emerson's essays are the most impor tant work done in prose."— Matthew Arnold. RALPH WALDO EMERSON (199—202, 356-358), (1803-1882). The religious controversy which arose in Boston in the early part of the nineteenth century grad- ually took a more general form. The Unitarian theology became too narrow a limit for curious thinkers, and Theo- dore Parker's example was followed by a group of young people, who abandoned sectarian debate for the sake of becoming philosophers. The master-mind among them was Ralph Waldo Emerson, whose place of residence has sup- plied the name by which they are known — The Concord School. Emerson invested the platform of the lyceum with a charm and influence which it has lost in later days. His lectures were essays collated from his voluminous common- place book, and wore delivered in a style of oratory com- bining neighborly familiarity with oracular emphasis. The RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 447 strongly moral bent of his mind may have been an inherit- ance from the eight generations of clergymen among his an- cestors. He graduated at Harvard, studied divinity, and was ordained as a Unitarian minister ; but he soon gave up the charge of his congregation, and, in 1832, began a life of meditation and literary aims. In 1833 he made a short visit to Europe, and then began a lasting friendship with Carlyle. He was one of the original editors of The Dial, a magazine begun in 1840, devoted to literature, philosophy, and religion. The writers were all more or less at variance with ordinary standards of life, and tbey expressed their views with more force than consistency. Among them were Margaret Fuller, Alcott, and Thoreau. In 1841 and 1844 the two series of Emerson's essays were published ; in 1847, his poems. The year 1848 found him traveling and lectur- ing in England, where he renewed his old intimacy with Carlyle. On his return to America he lectured on English Character and Manners, and his lectures were published in 1856 as English Traits. Others of his works are Tlie Con- duct of Life, Society and Solitude, Representative Men, and Letters and Social Aims. In 1872 he went to Europe again, said farewell to Carlyle, traveled on the Continent and in Egypt, returning in 1873. The last years of his life were spent among friends and admirers, who treasured his every saying, and made as light as possible the burdens and privations of old age. Emerson's somewhat contradictory traits put him in the position of a preacher who does not try to make converts. His philosophy was devoid of system ; his poetry by turns obscure and luminous. The peculiar quality of his mind has been likened to German mysticism and the visions of the Neo-Platonists, while the Hon. Anson Burlingame de- clared that " there are twenty thousand Kalph Waldo Em- erson s in China." But it is not as essayist, philosopher, or poet that Emer- 448 OSSOLI, THOREAU. sod will be longest remembered. There was something in the man himself that commanded admiration. His friends have declared that he was perfect in courtesy, kindliness, and practical sympathy. The man did not live secluded from his fellows, however much the philosopher counseled retirement ; but came out into the world and generously paid it tribute in love and in service. Margaret Fuller Ossoli (1810-1850) was a precocious child, and became a woman of strongly marked character, and of brilliant literary acquirements. Her sparkling conversation gave charm to a personality that was otherwise rather repellent. For a time editor of the Dial, she was afterwards employed as a critic for The Tribune. Her influence upon the thought of the time, especially upon the movement known as Transcendentalism, though now a matter of tradition, was undoubtedly considerable ; but her literary remains are few and unimportant (210)- Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) early withdrew from the demands and restrictions of society to develop his nature in seclu- sion. Living in his hut on the shores of Walden Pond, hoeing his garden, keeping his house in order, studying nature and his books, he was moved to write down the facts and fancies that came to his mind. He produced literature of the same order as Abraham Cow- ley's essays, and Gilbert White's Natural History of Selborne (231 — 233). It is significant that in the seven volumes of his published works there is not one complete contribution to any department in which he was interested. Everything is suggestive, but nothing is scientific or artistic. His biography has been written by the younger Channing. Two other members of the so-called Transcendental School are Amos Bronson Alcott, the " teacher by conversations," and Jones Very, a poet-mystic, who lived, rambled, and preached in Salem (1813-1880). The practical bent of American genius has been shown in the growth of technical literature of various sorts. Philology, ct\ mology, natural science, mathematics, the history of literature and criticism are represented by names like Whitney, Marsh (196), HEKRY DAVID THOREAU. 449 Noah Webster, Audubon (258—260), Agassiz, Bowditch, Pierce, Ticknor, Whipple (236), Hudson (224), and Richard Grant White (240). In this chapter we have considered:— 1, Ualph Waldo Emerson, 2* Margaret Fuller Ossolu S, Henry D. Thoreau* CHAPTER IX. THE ETHICAL NOVELISTS AND MISCELLANEOUS WRITERS OF PROSE AND VERSE. JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND (1819-1881), as editor and author, moralist and poet, will always take rank among i^iose whose literary efforts have been of the people and tor the people. He early showed evidence of the ambition and energy that enabled him to gain an education and to study medicine, in spite of the pov- erty that dogged his steps. From 1849 to 1866 he was connected with the Springfield Republican (established 1847), a paper to whose success his strong moral sense and literary judgment greatly con- tributed. The History of Western Massachusetts appealed aerially in its columns, as did also the novel called The Bay Path (310), and both may be considered fair specimens of the kind of energy which he lavished on his work. "Timothy Titcomb" was the signature over which he published his Letter* to Toung Married and Single (1868). The industry of Dr. Holland's earlier authorship is shown by the list of his publications: Bitt, (1858), Gold/oil (1859), Miss GiWerfs Career (1860), Leuont (1861), Letters to the Joneses (1863), Plain Talks on Familiar Subject* (isc,-)). and the H fe of Abraham Lincoln (1866). In 1867 ap| Kathrina, which has had a larger sale than any Other American poena except Hiawatha. Dr. Holland took charge of Magazine from its foundation in 1870, and wrote for its pa series of novels : Arthur Bojinicastle, SevtnouLs, and Niehola turn. All treated of subjects appealing directly to public interest, and their success, together with the author's editorial skill in col- lecting and disposing talent, did much to establish the new maga- zine on a firm footing. Scribner's Magazine was in some sort tin- successor of "Knickerbocker" and "Putnam's," and many people predicted for it a like short life; but the energy of its management gave it quick and great success. The wandering life, the constant HOLLAND, HAJjE, ROE, TERHUNB. 451 ills and poverty of his early youth and manhood, were a strong bond between Dr. Holland and his readers. He made of his past struggles a background for the action of his stones, and thus gave an additional force to the moral lessons he was always teaching. He was a preacher of self-respect and independence ; of that relig- ion which is founded on right feeling and not on dogma. Dr. Holland is the type of a class of writers who have made a moral of some sort more or less evident in their work. They have written novels, essays, sketches, and children's books, differing in style and grade of merit, but similar in the prominence which they give to the didactic element. Edward Everett Hale, born in 1822, has written extensively for the magazines. His style is clear, and his methods of conveying moral instruction or criticism ingenious. How To Do It, His Level Best, Ten Times One is Ten, are among his most popular volumes. The Man Without a Country is a remarkable example of well-sustained pathos, which has probably deceived more readers than any similar fiction of our time. Mr. Hale's views on philanthropy and other social topics present a curious parallel to those of Franklin. Edward Payson Roe has been a voluminous and popular writer of books which are lacking in the first principles of modern realism, and yet appeal strongly to the imagination of the middle classes by their hearty support of virtue in the most trying circumstances. The ideal world which Mr. Roe represents, puts all its rewards within the reach of industry and integrity. One of the most popular of these stories is Barriers Burned Away, in which the climax of the plot and of the reader's interest is reached in the midst of graphic descriptions of the great fire in Chicago. " Marion Harland " is hardly recognized in Mrs. Mary Virginia Terhune. For a number of years this nom de plume was familiar to the readers of Godey's Ladies' Book ; later it was attached to advertisements of holiday publications and manuals of cookery. Mrs. Terhune has done much to arouse young girls and women to a deeper sense of responsibility to themselves and the world. She lives at present in Springfield, Mass. Alone, Moss Side, The Hidden Path, Eve's Daughters, Common Sense in the Household, Husks, Pleasant Loitering?,, are a few out of the long list of her books. 452 BATARP TAYLOR. MISCELLANEOUS WRITERS OF PROSE AND VERSE. Bayard Taylor (1825-1878), (273—275, 414). Three years after the publication of Miss Gilbert's Career, a novel occupied with the somewhat vexed question of woman's proper sphere, appeared another, called Hannah Thurston, in which the same theme was treated in a much broader manner. The author, Bayard Taylor, was already well known as the hero of a pedestrian tour in Europe, the author of several books of travel, a poet of sufficient merit to be only temporarily eclipsed by his success as a lecturer. and as associate editor of The Tribune. John Godfrey's Fortunes embodied sketches of the author's Bohemian ex- periences, and was speedily followed by The Story of Ksn- nett and Joseph and his Friend, the last named being writ- ten for the Atlantic. Tlie Story of Kennett describes the author's birthplace and home in Pennsylvania, and is a novel of decided power. Mr. Taylor wrote with great facility, and cultivated his poetical gifts amidst the humdrum and con- stant industry necessary to a man who lived by bit pen. The man and his imagination were both the rover feeble. His nature was rich and generous, overflowing in n broad and hearty sympathy that made him a prince of good fellows. A lusty strength abounds in his -pages. His inti- mate acquaintance with foreign lands and customs gives bis work warmth and richness of coloring. Like Knierson. he had something of the Oriental in his bent of mind, hut it was (lie art of (he Kast that attracted him. not its mystery. An edition of bis poems was published in 1805. Thr Picture of St. John, The Masque of the Gods, and The Prophet, a Mormon drama, are others of his works. Prince Deukalion (1678) has gained admiration from literary people rather than from the rank and tile of readers. A very ap- TAYLOR, HIGGIKSOK. 453 preciative criticism of it is to be found in Sidney Lanier's Theory of the English Novel. The Echo Club (1876), a series of clever parodies of modern poets, grew out of the practice gained in the author's friendly meetings with R. H. Stod- dard and Fitz-James O'Brien. The influence of German literature, and its attraction for American scholars, have for a number of years been strongly felt in both prose and poetry, manifesting themselves in the number and high order of the translations which have appeared. C. T. Brooks (born in 1813) worked ably in this field, translating Schiller's William Tell, the Titan and Hesperus of Richter, and the first part of Goethe's Faust, In 1870-71 appeared Mr. Taylor's complete translation of the great Teutonic drama. It reproduces, as far as possible, the original meters, and offers the next best thing to those who cannot read tl^e German. Mr. Taylor also added several essays and sketches to our voluminous Goethean literature, and translated Auer- bach's Villa on the Rhine. He had gone to Germany as American Minister, with a view to further studies, when his death occurred in 1878. Thomas Wentworth Higginson, born at Cambridge, Mass., in 1823, is a lineal descendant of the Rev. Francis Higginson, of early colonial fame. It was perhaps a mental bias derived from the sturdy old nonconformist himself that made Higginson so early an advocate of the despised cause of an ti -si a very, and led him, in 1862, to accept the command of a regiment of negroes. His Army Life in a Black Regiment is the narrative of his experience. He has written polished essays on a variety of subjects, foremost among which are the Atlantic Essays (241), and Oldport Days. He has done much editorial work for The Woman s Journal, and has allied himself with those literary and social circles of Boston whose mem- bers are interested in the reform of government, of education, and of the status of woman. His Young Folks' History of the United States has made the subject pleasant and intelligible to thousands of boys and girls. Malbone, Colonel Higginson's only novel, ia marked by charming qualities of style. 454 STODDARD, STEDMAK, SAXE. Richard Henry Stoddard was born in 1825 at Hingham, Kan He presents another instance, among the many, of a poet who nursed his talent under the stress of uncongenial employment. Hard work in a New York foundry did not prevent him from wnting with grace and spirit, until he had won his way to a fixed position among the literary men of this generation. Mr. Stoddard has been an independent artist, maintaining a theory and practice not always in accord with the more prosaic spirit of the times. He has been, moreover, a most industrious writer, having pub- lished several volumes of prose, edited collections of verse, and written many short poems. Edmund Clarence Stedman, born in 1833 (423), the " broker- poet," has pursued the fickle muse in Wall Street. In 1873 a collected edition of his poems appeared. They are marked by lyric beauty, and by a graceful combination of satire and pathos essentially modern and artificial. The tone of a very frank senti- ment is occasionally distinguishable in them, as in The Heart qf New England. The Victorian Poets (1875) contains excellent, thougfa unequal criticism of modern English poetry. The purely satirical poetry of America is not represented by many names. The author who has written most in this department is John Godfrey Saxe (392—396)- He was born in Vermont in 1816, graduated from Middlebury College at twenty-three, and studied law, which he afterward abandoned for teetering, editorship, and general literary labors. His verse is fluent, his satire sharp and imperturbably good-natured. Mr. Saxe lashes social foibles with a steady hand. The reader of Proud Mim MeBridt and The Move)/ Kiii!». Newspaper, First Relig- ious, 41(i. Norton, Andrews, 416. P. Palfrey, J. G., 443. Parker, Theodore, 417. Parkman, Francis, 443. Parton, Mrs. James, 439. Paulding, J. K., 419, 422. Payne, John Howard, 427. Peabody, A. P., 417. Percival, J. G., 427. Perry, Nora, 473. Phelps. E. S.. 471. Piatt, J. J., 435; S. M. B., 435. Pierce, 449. Pinckney, E. C, 427. Poe, E. A., 428-429. Porter, Noah, 475. Prentiss, G. D.,459. Prescott, W. H., 444. R. Ramsay, David, 412, 416. Review, North American, 426. Revolution, Influence of on American Literature, 406-409. Roe, E. P., 451, 476. Rush, Benjamin, 412. S. Sandys, George, 394. Saxe, John G., 454. Sehaff. Philip. 475. Sedgwick, C. M, 439. Seward, W . II., 442. Shedd, W. G. T., 475. Shillaber. B. P., 459. Simms. \V. G, 488. Smith, John. 888-881 Smith, Beba, 459. Sparks,.!. 448. Spofl'ord, II. P., 470-171. Bpragne, Charles. 427. Spragne, Mis-. 408. S< dm. in. E. C, 454. Stephens, A. H.,443. Stiles, Ezra, 409. Stockton, F.R., 468. Stoddard, K. II., 454; E. D. B.. nil (68. Storra, R. 8 . I Story, W. W., 431-435. Btowe, H. B., 688-461 Stuart. Moses, 416. Sumnsr, Charles, 442. Taylor, Bayard, 452-453. Taylor, W. M., 475. Taylor, N. W., 475. Terhune, M. V., 451. Thaxter, Celia, 455. Thomas, Edith, 473. Thompson, Benjamin, 400. Thoreau, H. D., 448 Ticknor, G. T., 449. Tourgee. A. W, 464. Trowbridge, J. T., 464. Trumbull, John, 412. Tudor, William, 426. Twain, Mark. See Clem- ens. Tyler, Royal, 418. U. Upham, Thomas C, 475. Verplanck, G. C, 419, 422. Very, Jones, 448. W. Ware, Henry, 416. Ware, Wm.,439. Ward, Artemus. Se$ Browne. Warner, C. D., 468. Warner, The Misses, 439. Washington, George, 411. Webster, Daniel, 414, 44 J. Webster, Noah, 449. W r heaton, Henry, 443. Whipple, E. P, 449. White, K. G., 449. Whitman, Walter, 456-487 Whitney, A D. T . Whitney, W. D., 148 461 Whittier, J G.,489 188. Wilde, u. ii., 4r7. William-. Roger, .!'.»6-397. Willis. N. P., 487. Wilson, Benrj . n 8> Winthrop, Goi Winthrop, Theodore, 462. Wirt. Wm.,416 WitherspooD, John, 686. W'oieott. Roger, wk>. Woodworth, 8 Woods. Leonard, 416. Woolsev. Dr.. Woolson, 0. P., 471-478. Worcester, Josepb, 816. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY Return to desk from which borrowed. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. iiikiMf §3 yiw OCT 1 4 RECO LD 21-100m-7,'52(A2528sl6)476 Prof. Patterson baa spent about 2 years in preparing this book. It is an effort t<> make the study of Grammar attractive, and to embody that which iB really good in thfl Language Lew OB System with the older and more rigid rules of Grammar. We believe that the effort h.is been successful, and that this i 8 the best teaching boo/c on this subject <•«•«/• published. VB 36984 Sheldon & Company's TextSooks. DR. AVERY'S PHYSICAL SCIENCE SERIES. 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