Skip to main content

Full text of "A handbook of English literature"

See other formats 


■:  „.■'':'■-■''■ 


..--:j. .-.'.:. 


Ex  Libris 
K.  OGDEN 

=— __J 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


X     JIoajlx^  ftrmrfji-   (juryK*-^ 
fir*     60^^ 


A  HANDBOOK 

OF 

ENGLISH  LITERATURE 


A   HANDBOOK 

OF 

ENGLISH  LITERATURE 


BY 


W.    T.   WEBB,   M.A. 

FORMERLY   PROFESSOR   OF   ENGLISH  LITERATURE, 

PRESIDENCY    COLLEGE,    CALCUTTA; 

CO-AUTHOR    OF    "HINTS   ON    THE    STUDY   OF   ENGLISH,"   &C. 

AND 

J.   A.    ALDIS,   M.A. 

FORMERLY    PRINCIPAL,    LA    MARTINIERE,    CALCUTTA 


WITH     AN     INTRODUCTION 
BY 

C.   H.   TAWNEY,    M.A.,   CLE. 

FORMERLY  PRINCIPAL,  PRESIDENCY  COLLEGE,  CALCUTTA 


r 


London : 
JOHN    BALE,    SONS    &    DANIELSSON,    LTD. 

OXFORD  HOUSE 

83-91,   GREAT    TITCHPIELD    STREET,    OXFORD    STREET,  W. 

1913 


PREFACE. 

This  book  does  not  aim  at  originality,  except  as 
regards  method  of  treatment.  It  opens  with  a  brief 
general  survey  of  English  Literature,  and  then  proceeds 
to  give  detailed  accounts  of  particular  authors  whose 
works  are  used  as  text-books  in  Schools  and  Colleges. 
The  "  Quotations  "  appended  to  these  authors  are  intended 
to  serve  both  as  collections  of  well-known  passages  from 
their  writings  and  as  specimens  of  their  matter  and  style. 
The  Shakespeare  references  are  to  the  Globe  Edition  of 
that  author. 

The  authors  desire  to  express  their  best  thanks  to 
Mr.  C.  H.  Tawney  for  kindly  writing  an  Introduction  to 
this  volume. 


x.c? >-.*  .**(  *o 


CONTENTS 


isC^STD^ 

Page. 
INTRODUCTION xi 

GENERAL  SKETCH. 

CHAPTER   I. 

Pre-Elizabethan  Literature  (670— 1550)    ...  1 

CHAPTER   II. 

Elizabethan  Literature  (1550— 1625) .        ...  7 

CHAPTER   III. 
The  Age  of  Milton  and  Dryden  (1625  — 1700).         .  26 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Age  of  Pope,  Swift,  and  Johnson  (1700— 1785)  38 

CHAPTER  V. 

The    Age    of    Wordsworth,    Byron,     and     Scott 

(1785—1835) 56 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Modern  Literature  (1835— 1901)         ....  70 

SELECT  AUTHORS. 

SPENSER 98 

SHAKESPEARE 108 

Special  Plays:  Richard  III 138 

A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream       .         .  140 

Richard  II     . 143 

King  John 146 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


Special  Plays:   The  Merchant  of  Venice 

(Contd.)  i  and  2  King  Henry  IV 

King  He?iry  V 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing 

As  You  Like  it 

Twelfth  Night 

Julius  Cicsar  . 

Hamlet    . 

King  Lear 

Macbeth  . 

Coriolanus 

Cymbeline 

The  Tempest  . 
BACON  (i 561—1626)  . 
MILTON  (1 60S— 1674)  . 
BUN  VAX  (1628-1688). 
DRYDEN  (1631-1700). 
ADDISON  (1672— 1719) 
POPE  (1688— 1744) 
JOHNSON  (1709— 1784) 
GRAY  (1716-1771) 
GOLDSMITH  (1728-1776) 

BURKE  (1729— 1797)     • 
COWPER  (1731  — 1800) 
WORDSWORTH  (1770  — 1850) 
SCOTT  (1771  — 1836)       . 
COLERIDGE  (1772— 1834) 
SOUTHEY  (1774— 1843) 

jane;austen  (1775— 1817) 

LAMB  (1775-1834) 
LAN  DOR  (1775— 1864). 
CAMPBELL  (1777  — 1844) 
DE  QUINCEY  (1785  —  1859) 
BYRON  (1788- 1804)     . 
SHELLEY  (1792—1822) 
KEATS  (1795— 1821)      • 
CARLYLE  (1795— 18S1) 
MACAULAY  (1800-1859) 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


TENNYSON  (1809  — 1892)     . 
THACKERAY  (1811  — 1863). 
DICKENS  (1812-1870) 
R.  BROWNING  (1812—1889) 
HELPS  (1813— 1875)       . 
FROUDE  (1818— 1894)  . 
KINGSLEY  (1819— 1875)       . 
GEORGE  ELIOT  (1819—1880) 
RUSKIN  (i8ig— 1900)  . 
M.  ARNOLD  (1822  — 1888)    . 
STEVENSON  (1850— 1894!   . 
INDEX     


Page. 
411 

432 

437 

443 

45 

457 

460 

463 

470 

474 
481 

485 


INTRODUCTION. 

A  teacher,  however  great  his  experience,  who  under- 
takes the  task  of  drawing  up  a  Handbook  of  English 
Literature,  is  met  by  two  difficulties.  In  the  first  place 
he  must  feel  that  a  mere  superficial  knowledge  of  the 
names,  lives,  and  principal  works  of  a  large  number  of 
authors,  though  it  may  possibly  tell  in  an  Examination 
Hall,  (and  even  this  is  doubtful),  is  in  no  case  an  evidence 
that  the  mind  of  a  student  has  been  properly  trained. 
A  careful  study  of  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  or  of  Bacon's 
Advancement  of  Learning,  especially  if  carried  on  with 
the  help  of  a  good  teacher,  is  an  educative  process,  in  a 
sense  in  which  no  mere  list  of  authors,  however  well 
supplemented  by  chronological  tables  and  abstracts  can 
be  admitted  to  be.  We  have  all  heard  of  the  "man  of  one 
book,"  and  must  admit  that  he  has  often  proved  himself 
a  force  in  the  world.  On  the  other  hand  we  have  now 
attained  a  conception  of  national  literature,  for  the  intro- 
duction of  which  conception  the  study  of  natural  science 
is  probably  mainly  responsible.  It  is  now  felt  that  the 
literature  of  any  given  people  must  be  an  organic  growth 
influenced  by  its  external  surroundings,  and  by  the  histori- 
cal development  of  that  people.  We  should  no  more 
expect  the  Mahabharata  to  be  produced  by  Danes  or 
Germans,  than  we  should  expect  to  find  in  the  Black 
Forest  that  fig-tree  which  "  In  Malabar  or  Deccan  spreads 
her  arms." 

It  follows  that  literature  can  no  longer  be  studied 
fruitfully  apart  from  history  and  geography.  Nor,  in 
considering   the    most  eminent  authors,  can  we  look  upon 


Xll  INTRODUCTION. 

them  as  solitary  eminences  towering  in  unapproaehable 
grandeur.  Shakespeare  was  the  chief  of  the  Elizabethan 
dramatists,  but  even  he  would  never  have  been  what  he 
was  without  "  Marlowe's  mighty  line,"  and  probably  the 
wit-combats  between  him  and  "rare  Ben  Jonson"'  were  not 
without  influence  in  moulding  the  minds  of  both  drama- 
tists. In  other  words,  Shakespeare  cannot  be  understood 
without  some  knowledge  of  his  predecessors  and  successors, 
and  the  more  the  age  in  which  he  lived  is  regarded  from 
every  possible  point  of  view,  the  more  complete  and  full 
will  our  comprehension  of  his  genius  be. 

I  cannot  help  thinking  that  the  writers  of  the  present 
Handbook  have  chosen  the  best  method  of  reconciling 
these  apparently  contradictory  requisites,  which  I  may 
perhaps  be  allowed  to  call  the  intensive  and  extensive  lines 
of  study.  They  have  given  a  detailed  account  of  the  life 
and  writings  of  thirty-eight  English  authors,  with  critical 
estimates  of  their  merits,  while  in  the  General  Sketch 
they  have  shown  their  relations  to  other  authors,  and  as- 
signed them  their  places  in  the  great  army  to  which  they 
belong. 

No  manual  can,  of  course,  render  the  careful  study  of 
the  authors  themselves  unnecessary.  But  it  can  facilitate 
and  illuminate  such  study.  And  I  venture  to  claim  for 
the  compilers  of  the  present  work,  who,  no  doubt  on  account 
of  our  previous  connexion  in  India,  have  asked  me  to 
write  an  introduction  to  it,  the  merit  of  having  solved 
the  difficult  problem  before  them  with  considerable  success. 

Mr.  WYbb  is  well  known  to  all  students  and  teachers 
of  English  literature  by  the  works  which  he  has  written 
and  edited,  solely,  or  in  conjunction  with  the  late  Mr  Rowe. 
Of  his  own  poetical  gifts  and  refined  taste  his  Indian 
Lyrics  and  translations  from  Martial    furnish    unmistake- 


INTRODUCTION.  Xlll 

able  proof.  Mr.  Aldis's  long  educational  experience  both 
as  Principal  of  an  important  Indian  College  and  as  Head- 
master of  an  English  High  School  forms  an  admirable 
equipment  for  the  task  in  which  he  collaborates. 

If  I  might  venture  to  select  any  one  part  of  the  follow- 
ing work  for  special  commendation,  I  should  desire  to  draw 
attention  to  the  section  dealing  with  Lord  Tennyson.  Mr. 
Webb's  careful  study  of  Lord  Tennyson's  works  has  enabled 
him  to  describe  his  character  as  a  man  and  a  poet  most 
lucidly.  I  doubt  if  his  special  position  in  the  literary  world 
has  ever  been  so  clearly  and  accurately  fixed.  "Tennyson's 
character  as  a  man  may  be  summed  up  in  one  sentence  ; 
he  represents  at  its  best  the  cultured  nineteenth  century 
English  gentleman."  This  sentence  and  the  remarks 
which  follow,  will,  I  think  meet  with  the  cordial  approba- 
tion of  Tennyson's  admirers,  who  are  still  a  body  not  to  be 
despised,  though  to  the  present  century  some  of  his  man- 
nerisms in  thought  and  expression  may  appear  obsolete 
or  obsolescent. 

While  the  authors  of  the  present  Handbook  have  had 
the  pupils  of  Indian  colleges  primarily  in  view,  they  have 
by  no  means  restricted  themselves  to  the  requirements  of 
Indian  students.  I  think,  however,  that  there  is  much 
less  difference  between  the  Indian  and  the  English  student 
than  is  supposed  in  some  quarters.  Indian  students  cannot 
it  is  true,  be  expected  to  be  familiar  with  Greek  and  Latin 
literature,  but  apparently  this  familiarity  cannot  be  now 
presumed  in  the  case  of  many  English  students.  Nor  in- 
deed is  it  indispensable  as  an  introduction  to  English 
literature.  Numerous  examples  show  that  even  Milton 
can  be  enjoyed,  in  spite  of  his  all-pervasive  classicalism 
by  persons  who  have  not  busied  themselves  with  classical 
studies.     In  the  last  resort,  a  reference  to    a    few  transla- 


XIV  INTRODUCTION. 

tion,  to  which  some  hold  that  Shakespeare  was  principally 
indebted  for  his  learning,  will  redress  the  balance.  I  am 
therefore  inclined  to  think  that  we  are  destined  to  see 
English  literature  more  and  more  take  the  position  of  an 
independent  subject  in  education.  In  any  case,  I  am 
persuaded  that  the  present  work  will  prove  an  acceptable 
aid  to  education  in  every  part  of  the  world  in  which 
English  literature  is  read  and  appreciated. 

Charles  H.  Tawney. 


GENERAL  SKETCH. 

CHAPTER  I. 

PRE-ELIZABETHAN  LITERATURE   (670—1550). 

Modern  English  is   a   blend    of    many    languages ;  but    in 
Pre-Norman  radical  value  and  in  historic  growth    it  is   one 

Literature.  0f  fae  great  Teutonic  family,  of  which  German 

is  now  the  most  important  example.  Before  the  Norman 
conquest  it  was  a  highly  inflected  language  ;  but  with  the  ulti- 
mate absorption  of  Norman-French  after  the  fusion  of  the  two 
races  these  inflections  were  nearly  all  dropped,  while  the 
vocabulary  was  almost  doubled  by  the  influx  of  Norman- 
French  words,  slightly  modified  in  form.  It  is  obvious  there- 
fore that  books  by  English  writers  before  the  Norman  Conquest 
will  seem  to  us  to  be  written  in  an  almost  foreign  language  ; 
especially  as  their  ideas  of  the  forms  of  poetry  were  so  widely 
different  from  our  own.  For  their  poetic  form  depends  upon 
recurrent  stress  or  emphasis,  marked  out  by  alliteration,  not  on 
the  number  of  syllables ;  nor  does  it  employ  rhyme.  The 
metre  of  Coleridge's  Christabel  or  of  Longfellow's  Hiawatha 
is  the  nearest  approach  to  it  in  modern  English.  Of  these  pre- 
Norman  poems  the  chief  are  : — Caedmon's  Paraphrase  (of  the 
book  of  Genesis),  written  about  670.  An  unlearned  rustic,  he 
had  something  of  Bunyan's  genius,  and  was  encouraged  by 
Hilda,  Abbess  of  Whitby,  to  turn  Bible  stories  into  popular 
song.  Beowulf  (about  690)  by  an  unknown  writer,  is  an  almost 
Homeric  epic  on  the  adventures  of  a  legendary  chief  of  that 
name,  who,  single-handed,  delivered  his  friend,  a  Danish  king, 
from  a  horrible  marsh  monster,  and  its  more  hideous  mother ; 
and  was  at  last  killed  while  fighting  a  dragon.  In  the  middle 
of  the  eighth  century  we  find  the  religious  poems  of  Cynewulf, 
based   upon    Latin   hymns   or   Papal   homilies.     Alfred  the 


2  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Great  was  the  first  important  writer  of  English  prose ;  he 
translated  the  histories  of  Orosius  and  of  Bede  ;  the  Consola- 
tion of  Philosophy  of  Boethius  ;  and  Gregory's  Pastoral  Rule. 
The  Battle  of  Brunanburh  (937  ?)  is  an  epic  fragment, 
which  Tennyson  has  modernised. 

The   immediate    effect  of   the    Conquest   was   to    degrade 
Revival  of  English      English  into  the  mere  spoken    tongue    of   the 
Literature.  common  people.   The  literature  of  the  English 

under  Norman  rule  is  in  French  or  Latin.  The  only  gleams  of 
national  spirit,  Celtic  rather  than  Saxon,  shine  out  in  the 
development  of  the  legends  of  King  Arthur,  embodied  by 
Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  in  his  History  of  Britain  (1147),  and 
spiritualised  in  more  poetic  forms  by  the  Welsh-born  Walter 
De  Map.  But  it  is  not  till  the  reign  of  King  John  that,  in  the 
Brut  of  Layamon  (1205),  an  adaptation  of  the  French  history 
of  England  by  Wace,  English  verse  reappears,  in  form  scarcely 
altered  from  the  poetry  of  Caedmon.  John's  loss  of  Norman- 
dy, his  misrule  and  tragic  fall,  brought  about  the  gradual 
fusion,  both  social  and  political,  of  the  two  races,  until  in  135c 
English  was  used  in  school-teaching,  and  in  1362  it  became  the 
language  of  the  law-courts.  About  1215-20  we  meet  with  the 
Ormulum,  a  series  of  metrical  homilies  by  an  Augustinian 
monk  Okm.  This  poem  discards  the  old  alliterative  versifica- 
tion, and  thus  marks  the  transition  to  our  modern  poetic  forms. 
The  Norman  Conquest  modified  our  language  rather  than 
our    literature.     But  a    far-reaching    influence 

Italian    influence.  ° 

soon  made  itself  felt,  and  for  long  largely 
dominated  our  literature  :  viz.  the  influence  of  Italian  poets 
and  story-tellers.  The  great  Italian  republics,  especially  that 
of  Florence,  became  the  leaders  of  Europe  in  art  and 
literature  ;  Dante  (1265-1321),  Petrarch  (1304-1374),  and 
Boccaccio  (1313-1375)  were  directly  or  indirectly  the 
teachers  of  Chaucer,  Surrey,  Shakespeare,  and  Milton  ; 
and  a  residence  in  Italy  was  recognized  as  essential  to 
the  education  of  an  English  gentleman.  Dante,  with  his  vision 
of  Hell,  Purgatory,  and  Heaven,  was  the  pioneer  of  Milton  ;  from 
Petrarch  we  derived  the  Sonnet,    especially  in  its  strict  Miltonic 


PRE-ELIZABETHAN    LITERATURE.  3 

form  ;  while  Boccaccio's  narrative  verse,  and  the  hundred  prose 
stories  of  his  Decameron,  formed  the  ground-work  of  much  of 
Chaucer's  poetrv.  In  1566  William  Paynter  translated  from 
the  Decameron  his  Palace  of  Pleasure,  from  which  Shakespeare 
took  so  many  of  his  plots. 

The    Travels   of    Sir  John  Mandeville,  once  regarded  as 
r  the    first    original    English   prose,  are  not  only 

largely   apocryphal,    but  the  English    version 
of  the  French  original  is  no  doubt  a  translation  by  an  unknown 
writer  early  in  the    fifteenth    century.       Langland's    Vision    of 
Piers    the    Plowman    (1362-1380)    is    a    popular    satire  on  the 
corruptions  of  the  Church  :   its  poetic  form  is  strictly  alliterative 
and  pre-Norman.     John  Barbour,    Archdeacon    of   Aberdeen, 
wrote  The  Bruce,  a  rhymed  Scottish  chronicle  of  the  adventures 
of  King  Robert  I.    Wiclif  (1324-1384),  the  'Morning  Star  of  the 
Reformation,'    by  his    Sermons  and  his  translation  of  the  Bible, 
became    the    real    'Father    of    English  prose,'    as  Chaucer  is  of 
English  poetry.     Geoffrey  Chaucer  (1 340-1400),   the  son  of  a 
well-to-do  London  vintner,  was  in  his  youth  in  the  household  of 
Lionel,  Duke  of  Clarence,  and  throughout  his  life    held  offices, 
either    important    or  lucrative,  under  the  Crown.     He  served  in 
France  under  Edward    III,    and  was    employed    on   important 
diplomatic    missions    in    Italy,  France,    and    the    Netherlands. 
Thus  he  was  familiar  with  society  of  every    kind,    and    his    life 
was    one    of   wide    and  varied  experience  ;  while  he  was,  as  he 
tells  us,  before  all  things  a  lover    of   books,    and    familiar,  with 
literature,  French  and  Latin.     Boccaccio  and    Petrarch  were  his 
personal    friends,    and  Dante  was  his  ideal  poet.     In  Chaucer's 
early   work,    The    Complaint   unto    Pity,  and   his  (partly  lost) 
translation  of  the  Roman  de  la  Rose,  French  influence  was  para- 
mount.    So  is  it  in  The  Book  of  the   Duchess,  a  largely  conven- 
tional elegy  on  the  Duchess  Blanche  of   Lancaster  ;  and    in  his 
mythological    Complaint  of  Mars.      The   Parliament  of  Fowl's 
is  an   allegorical    poem,    probably    written    in  honour   of   the 
marriage    of    Richard    II  with    Anne  of   Bohemia.     Italian  in- 
fluence   is   first    clearly    shewn   in    Troilus and  Cressida,  based 
upon  the  Filostrato  of  Boccaccio  ;  and  The  House  of  Fame  is 


4  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

largely  inspired  by  Dante.  The  unfinished  Legend  of  Good 
Women  was  Chaucer's  first  attempt  at  a  collected  'Cabinet  of 
Tales,'  such  as  we  have  in  the  Decameron.  In  the  Legend 
Chaucer  employs  for  the  first  time  the  French  heroic  couplet. 
The  poem  is  a  stately  tribute  to  the  moral  dignity  of  woman- 
hood, and  replies  to  the  false  charges  brought  against  women 
in  such  poems  as  Troilus  or  The  Romaunt  of  the  Rose.  In 
contrast  with  the  monotony  of  this  poem  is  the  wide  variety  of 
interest  contained  in  Chaucer's  immortal  work,  The  Canterbury 
Tales  (1373-1393),  with  which  English  literature,  as  we  under- 
stand it,  may  be  said  to  begin.  This  too  was  left,  in  a  sense, 
unfinished;  as  several  details  mentioned  in  the  Prologue  were 
afterwards  set  aside.  But  The  Parson's  Tale,  which  is  really  a 
pious  sermon,  was  obviously  intended  for  a  seemly  close  to  the 
whole  poem.  Thus  it  is  intrinsically  a  complete  work  of  art ; 
it  embraces  every  type  of  literature  then  extant ;  it  portrays 
with  great  dramatic  skill  all  the  different  types  of  English 
character  in  th^  society  of  the  time  ;  and  it  gives  free  play  to 
the  rich  variety  of  the  poet's  genius.  The  great  merit  of  the 
poem  is  that  in  an  age  of  allegory  and  romance  the  writer  is 
thoroughly  realistic  and  goes  direct  to  nature,  depicting  it  with 
a  skill  and  a  humour  that  are  beyond  praise.  Here  is  part  of 
his  portrait  of  the  Prioress  : — 

'She  was  so  charitable  and  pitous 
She  vvolde  wepe,  if  that  she  saw  a  mous 
Caught  in  a  trappe,  if  it  were  deed  or  bledde. 
Of  smale  houndes  had  she,  that  she  fedde 
With  rosted  flesh,  or  milk  and  wastel-breed. 
But  sore  weep  she  if  oon  of  hem  were  deed, 
Or  if  men  smoot  it  with  a  yerde  smerte  ; 
And  al  was  conscience  and  tendre  herte. 

Chaucer  had  Burn's  simple  love  of  life's  common  things, 
and  something  of  Shakespeare's  tolerant  sympathy  with  all 
sides  of  human  character  ;  certainly  he  had  a  Shakesperean 
capacity  for  appropriating  and  improving  upon  the  literary 
work  of  others.  Like  Shakespeare  too  he  instinctively 
avoids    burning    questions,     whether     religious    or     political. 


PP.E-EL1ZABETHAN   LITERATURE.  5 

He  has  none  of  the  fiery  passion  of  Piers  Plowman  ;  nor 
indeed  does  he  make  any  approach  to  Shakespear's  spiritual 
depths.  He  died  October  25,  1400,  and  was  buried  in  West- 
minster Abbey. 

The 'Moral'  John    Gower  (1325-1408),  as    Chaucer  styled 
Chaucer's  him,  was  Chaucer's  intimate  friend.    He  wrote 

successors.  Thg     Lover's     Confession    (1393),    a     tedious 

half-allegorical,  half-ecclesiastical  dialogue  on  love,  illustrated 
by  a  variety  of  stories.  Two  inferior  poets  Occleve  and 
lvdgate  (about  1370-1450)  followed  Chaucer's  poetic  mecha- 
nism with  nothing  of  his  spirit  ;  the  latter  wrote  Troy  Book  and 
The  Falls  of  Princes  founded  upon  Boccaccio.  To  James  I(  1 3  94- 
1437)  of  Scotland  has  been  attributed  The  King's  Quair 
(  —  King's  Little  Book)  in  the  Chaucerian  seven-line  stanza, 
thenceforward  called  the  'rhyme  roval.'  In  it  he  describes 
how,  while  in  captivity  at  Windsor  Castle,  he  had  seen  from 
his  window,  and  fallen  in  love  with,  the  Earl  of  Somerset's 
daughter,  whom  he  afterwards  married.  The  homely  ballads, 
Peebles  to  the  Play,  and  Christ's  Kirk  of  the  Green  are 
probably  from  his  pen.  Robert  henryson  (about  1 430-1 506), 
a  Dunfermline  schoolmaster,  wrote  The  Testament  of  Cressida, 
a  sequel  to  Chaucer's  Troilas  and  Cressida.  His  Moral 
Fables  are  full  of  wit  and  descriptive  power.  Skelton  (1460- 
1529)  wrote  some  powerful  satires  against  Wolsey  in  a  rough 
short-line  metre  of  his  own.  Gavin  Douglas  (1474-1522), 
Bishop  of  Dunkeld,  translated  Virgil's  Aeneid;  and  William 
Dunbar  (1460-1530),  author  of  The  Dance  of  the  Seven  Deadly 
Sins,  has  been  called  the  'Chaucer  of  Scotland." 

Pecock  and  Fortescue  (about    1 395-1 480)  wrote    excellent 
prose  :    the  former   against   the  Lollards,   the 

Prose  writers, 

latter  on  law  and  monarchy.  The  Paston 
Letters  (1422-1 509),  between  members  of  a  good  Norfolk 
family,  throw  an  interesting  sidelight  upon  the  state  of  society 
during  the  Wars  of  the  Roses.  In  1477  the  introduction  of 
Printing  by  William  Caxton  opened  up  a  new  era  for  literature. 
His  translation  of  2'he  Recuy ell  (  =  Collection)  of  the  Histories 
vf  Troye  was  the  first   English  book    ever    printed  ;    while  his 


U  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

patron's  book,  Earl  River's  Sayings  of  the  Philosophers  was 
the  first  book  printed  in  England.  The  most  important  fruit 
of  the  new  art  was  Sir  Thomas  Malory's  great  work,  Morte 
D 'Arthur  (1476),  a  mine  of  wealth  to  subsequent  poets  and 
romancers.  Sir  Thomas  More  (1478-1535)  wrote  in  English 
prose  The  Life  of  Edward  V  (printed,  1557)  ;  and  in  Latin 
his  famous  Utopia  (  =  Nowhere),  a  description  of  an  imaginary 
common-wealth  in  an  unknown  island,  in  which  Mores  own 
political  ideals  are  set  forth,  and  the  vices  of  existing  society 
satirised  with  a  subtly  penetrating  humour.  This  book  was 
translated  into  English  in  1551.  Tvn dale  and  Coverdalk  by  their 
translations  of  the  Bible  prepared  the  way  for  the  Authorised 
Version,  and  helped  forward  the  intellectual  and  moral  births 
of  the  Elizabethan  age  ;  as  also  did  Latimer  and  Cranmer 
(1485-15 56)  by  the  homely  vigour  of  their  sermons  and 
homilies. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ELIZABETHAN  LITERATURE  (1550-1625). 

The  term  'Elizabethan  Literature'  may  be  used  to  cover  that 
specially  fruitful  period  which  began  with 
Three  sections.  Surrey  'and  Wyatt,  and  was  ended  by  the 
political  troubles  of  the  reign  of  Charles  I ;  Milton  being  its 
last  belated  representative,  surviving  in  the  solitude  of  an  alien 
age.  The  earlier  part  of  that  period  is  chiefly  distinguished 
by  its  poetry,  which  culminated  in  Spenser  ;  the  middle  by  the 
plays  of  Shakespeare  and  his  contemporaries  ;  and  the  latter 
part  by  the  prose  of  Hooker  and  Bacon.  It  will  be  convenient 
to  follow  this  division  ;  though  some  of  the  writers  excel  in 
more  than  one  of  these  three  kinds  of  literature. 

The  predominance  of  the  drama  in  Elizabethan  literature 
predominance  *s  due,  as  a  recent  writer  has  well  pointed  out, 
of  the  drama.  to  tnree  main  reasons  :  (/)  'The  drama  alone 
was  remunerative.  (2)  It  appealed  to  a  larger  public  than  any 
other  branch  of  literature  possibly  could ;  in  fact  it  was  the 
only  literary  means  of  reaching  a  great  mass  of  people.  Books 
were  still  comparatively  rare  and  dear ;  the  proportion  of 
people  who  could  read  was  small ;  there  was  no  class  of 
studious  readers.  (3)  The  times  themselves  were  dramatic ; 
life  abounded  in  dramatic  elements  and  situations ;  and  a 
great  literature  always  stands  in  close,  intimate,  direct  relations 
to  the  life  amid  which  it  is  created.'  We  shall  see  later  how, 
as  the  first  and  the  second  of  these  reasons  lost  their  force, 
the  drama  was  superseded  by  the  novel. 

(1)  Poetry.      TotteVs  Miscellany  (1557)  placed  before  the 

Spenser's  pre-         public    at    Elizabeth's    accession  poems  which 

decessors.  na(j  t>een    written    for   private   circulation   by 

Wyatt,  Surrey,  and  others.     Among  the  less  known  writers  was 

Lord  Vaux,    who    contributed    the    verses    adapted    for    the 


8  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

grave-digger  in  Hamlet.  The  book  itself  was  what  Slender  in 
The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  (i.  i.  105-6)  depended  upon  for 
his  second-hand  wit  in  company.  Its  two  chief  contributors. 
Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  (1 503-1 542),  and  Henry  Howard,  Earl 
of  Surrey  (15 17-1547)  between  them  naturalised  the  sonnet 
in  England,  and  re-established  the  metrical  verse-structure 
which  Chaucer  had  introduced  ;  and  Surrey,  in  his  translation 
of  the  Aeneid,  first  introduced  blank  verse.  The  most  im- 
portant difference  found  in  their  sonnets  was  the  substitution  of 
genuine  feeling  for  the  conventional  make-believe  of  mediaeval 
love-literature.  More  important  than  the  Miscellany,  was  the 
Induction  and  The  Complaint  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 
contributed  by  Thomas  Sackville,  Lord  Buckhurst  (1536- 
1608),  to  The  Mirror  for  Magistrates  (1555-1587),  a  series  of 
poems  on  the  misfortunes  of  princes.  Sackville's  two  poems 
are  of  high  merit,  and  inspired  some  of  Spenser's  best  work. 
He  was  also  in  part  the  author  of  Gorboduc  (1561).  George 
Gascoigne  (1535-1577)  is  believed  to  have  written  the  first 
English  prose  comedy.  The  Supposes  (from  Ariosto) :  the  first 
regular  verse  satire,  The  Steel  Glass  ;  the  first  prose  tale  (from 
Bandello) ;  the  first  translation  from  Greek  tragedy,  Jocasta  \ 
and  the  first  critical  essay  on  poetic  form,  his  Jnstructions.  Of 
these  The  Steel  Glass  is  the  only  instance  before  Milton  of  a 
long  English  poem  of  any  merit  in  blank  verse.  Its  title 
points  to  the  accuracy  of  a  'steel'  mirror,  as  contrasted  with. 
the  deceptions  of  'crystal' : — 

'Lucretius  this  worthy  man  was  named, 
Who  at  his  death  bequeathed  the  Crystal  Glass 
To  such  as  love  to  Seem  but  not  to  Be  ; 
But  unto  those  that  love  to  see  themselves, 
How  foul  or  fair  soever'that  they  are, 
He  gan  bequeath  a  Glass  of  trusty  Steel, 
Wherein  they  may  be  bold  always  to  look, 
Because  it  shows  all  things  in  their  degree.' 

Sir  Philip  Sidney's  Astrophel  and  Stella  sonnets  are  highly 
praised  by  Charles  Lamb ;  but  they  could  have  had  nc 
influence  on  the  development  of  Spenser's  genius. 


ELIZABETHAN   LITERATURE.  9 

Spenser's  poetic  career  is  separately  described  (pp.   98-107). 
Spenser's  Sue-         With    him    and    Sidney   came   an  astonishing 
cessors.  development  of  the  fashion,    almost   a   craze, 

for  sonnetteering,  which  culminated  in  Shakespeare  (1564-1616, 
see  pp.  1 19-121),  and  soon  afterwards  died  out.  The  lesser  poets 
who  followed  Spenser  have  considerable  merit,  though  dimmed 
by  his  greater  light.  Michael  Drayton  (i  563-1631)  is  immortal 
through  his  Ballad  of  Agincourt ;  and  his  fairy-poem  Nymphi- 
dia  has  a  singularly  sprightly  grace.  He  was  a  hardworking 
historical  poet,  and  his  Mortimeriados,  afterwards  (1603) 
enlarged  into  The  Barons'  Wars;  his  Polyolbion,  a  geographi- 
cal description  of  Britain  ;  and  his  best  long  poem,  England's 
Heroical  Epistles,  are  inspired  with  a  lofty  patriotism,  and 
though  tedious  from  their  length  and  detail,  yet  contain  much 
vigorous  and  masterlv  work.  Samuel  Daniel  (i 562-1619),  a 
writer  of  sweet  and  dignified  verse  and  of  much  excellent 
prose,  is  best  known  by  his  Delia  sonnets,  and  his  prose 
Defence  of  Rhyme,  in  which  he  demolished  the  absurd  cult  of 
classical  metres  so  prevalent  in  his  day.  He  also  composed  a 
beautiful  Masque,  Hymens  Triumph.  Thomas  Tusser  (1 5 1 5- 
15S0)  wrote  in  popular  verse  A  Hundred  Good  Points  of 
Husbandry,  enlarged  afterwards  (1573)  to  Five  Hundred 
Points  ;  a  book  widely  read  at  the  time  and  often  referred  to 
now.  William  Drummond  of  Hawthornden  (1 585-1649), 
wrote  some  exquisite  sonnets ;  he  and  Sir  William  Alexander 
(1580- 1 640),  though  Scotsmen,  drew  all  their  inspiration  from 
the  English  Elizabethans.  Besides  some  beautiful  pieces  by 
the  minor  poets  of  the  time,  there  is  a  whole  treasury  of 
poetic  gems  scattered  throughout  the  plays  of  the  Elizabethan 
and  Jacobean  dramatists. 

(2)  The  Drama.  The  Drama  in  England  gradually 
•Miracle plays-  developed  itself  from  the  'Miracle  plays' 
and  'Mysteries.'  an(j  <  Mysteries,'  which  at  first  were  mere 
adjuncts  to  the  services  of  the  Catholic  Church.  Like 
pictures,  they  were  '  the  books  of  the  unlearned.'  Some 
miraculous  incident  in  the  life  of  the  patron  saint  of  a 
particular  church  would  be  acted    in    character   and    costume, 


10  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

taking  the  place  of  a  reading  from  the  Bible.  In  like  manner 
the  chief  events  of  Bible  history  were  placed  before  the  eyes  of 
unleltered  congregations.  When  the  themes  of  these  plays  were 
the  events  in  which  the  'mysteries'  of  Christian  doctrine  are 
centered,  such  as  the  Nativity  or  the  Resurrection,  these 
dramatic  representations  were  called  '.Mysteries.'  In  the  twelfth 
century  we  find  that  these  'Mysteries'  were  beginning  to  be  re- 
moved from  the  interior  of  the  Church  to  tne  Church  steps  and 
graveyard  outside ;  a  three-stage  scaffolding,  representing 
Heaven,  Earth,  and  Hell,  being  built  for  the  accommodation  of 
the  actors.  Gradually  the  production  of  these  plays  passed 
from  the  exclusive  control  of  the  clergy  into  that  of  the  trade- 
guilds  in  the  great  towns  ;  and  the  plays  were  presented  at  con- 
venient open  spaces  where  the  procession  of  the  players,  with 
their  scaffold-theatre  on  wheels,  came  to  a  halt.  The  final 
establishment  in  13 11  by  Pope  Clement  V  of  the  popular 
festival  Corpus  Christi  greatly  strengthened  the  influence  of  the 
laity  in  the  management  of  'Mysteries'  ;  for  on  this  festival  the 
clergy  and  the  laity  walked  together  in  public  procession  j  and 
the  procession  itself  was  made  as  dramatic  as  possible  by  car- 
rying banners,  pictures,  and  images,  or  by  having  Scripture 
characters  in  costume  to  take  part  in  the  show.  In  an  age  when 
faith  was  robust  and  unquestioned,  people  were  not  afraid  of 
blending  mirth  with  serious  thought.  Thus  in  the  miracle  plays, 
Noah  s  obstinate  wife,  who  had  to  be  thwacked  and  pulled  into 
the  ark  at  the  last  moment,  was  one  of  the  stock  comic  charac- 
ters. This  blending  of  fun  with  earnest,  a  deep-rooted  national 
feature  which  culminates  in  Shakespeare's  dramatic  characteriza- 
tions, was  most  prominent  in  the  Shepherds'  /'lay,  apparently 
introduced  from  the  Netherlands.  For  in  these  representations 
of  the  Shepherds  at  the  Nativity,  rough  horseplay  and  coarse 
local  jests  were  intermingled,  without  any  sense  of  incongruity, 
with  the  chanting  of  the  angelic  song,  'Glory  to  God  in  the 
highest,'  and  the  adoration  of  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem.  There 
are  many  references  in  both  Chaucer  and  Shakespeare  (1564 — 
1616)  to  these  miracle-plays;  and  they  continued  to  be  acted,  at 
Chester  until  1577,  and  at  Coventry  till  1580. 


ELIZABETHAN    LITERATURE.  H 

The  closely  allied  'Morality  plays'  were  rather  the  off- 
■Moraiities'  &  spring  of  the  Reformation  than  of  the  Catholic 
•interludes.'  Church  ;  they  show  a  more  advanced  stage  of 
the  gradual  emancipation  of  the  'Mysteries'  from  the  control  of 
the  clergy.  They  and  the  'Interludes,'  which  were  originally 
short  dramatic  performances  introduced  in  the  intervals  of  festi- 
vities in  a  nobleman's  hall,  were  freely  used  by  Protestants  to 
satirize  the  vices  of  the  Catholic  Church  ;  nor  were  Catholics 
slow  to  retaliate.  The  old-fashioned  drolleries  were  imported 
into  these  Morality  plays  in  the  shape  of  the  dragon-Devil,  who 
was  belaboured  by  the  'Vice'  with  his  wooden  dagger.  The 
drama/is  persona:  in  a  Morality  play  were  abstract  virtues  and 
vices  personified  ;  and  the  moral  was  worked  out  as  the  climax 
of  a  regular  dramatic  plot.  Plays  of  this  type  were  first  intro- 
duced in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.  Of  the  earlier  ones  the  most  im- 
portant were  the  Magnificence  of  the  satirist  Skelton  (1460- 15 29), 
and  The  Three  Estates  of  Sir  David  Lindsay  (1490- 1555),  a 
friend  of  James  V  of  Scotland,  and  one  of  the  'Reformer  before 
the  Reformation.'  This  latter  play  is  a  powerful  and  plain- 
spoken  denunciation  of  the  vices  of  the  clergy  and  the  nobility. 
John  Heywood  (1500- 15 80),  a  court  wit  and  favourite  with 
Queen  Mary,  wrote  many  Interludes,  especially  The  Four  P's 
(Palmer,  Pardoner,  Potycary.  and  Pedlar),  and  by  introducing 
real  persons  instead  of  abstractions  paved  the  way  for  English 
Comedy.  Somewhat  similar  to  the  Interlude  was  the  'Masque,' 
in  which  allegorical  or  romantic  characters  were  assumed,  with 
appropriate  dresses,  by  players  (usually  chosen  from  among 
the  guests)  disguised  with  masks,  to  provide  amusement  at  a 
festival,  or  to  compliment  some  distinguished  personage.  Ben 
Jonson  was  the  foremost  writer  of  masques.  They  came  to  an 
end  with  Milton's  masterpiece,  the  masque  of  Comus  (1634, 
See  pp   208-1 1>. 

These  different  forms  of  dramatic  production  were  collateral 
The  Drama         growths  rather   than   direct   ancestors    of   the 
proper.  drama  proper.  They  fostered  and  gave  expres- 

sion to  the  national  genius.  The  same  dramatic  instincts  among 
the  learned  professional  bodies,  the  Universities  and  the  Inns  of 


12 


A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 


Court,  gave  rise  to  translations  or  adaptations  of  the  Latin 
comedies  of  Terence  or  Plautus  and  the  tragedies  of  Seneca — 
a  practice  of  which  there  has  been  a  revival  in  modern  times. 
It  became  a  matter  of  social  ambition  with  the  great  nobles  to 
keep  under  their  own  patronage  companies  of  actors  capable  of 
producing  these  plays  with  good  effect  on  such  occasions  as  a 
visit  from  Royalty.  Of  these  the  Earl  of  Leicester's  company, 
which  Shakespeare  joined  (p.  1 14  ;  the  date  about  1587),  was 
the  most  important.  Such  companies  had  to  keep  themselves 
well  practised  in  their  art  :  they  used  therefore  to  make  the  tour 
of  the  large  towns  in  their  own  district,  giving  their  entertain- 
ments in  town-halls  or  other  convenient  places,  and  usually 
obtaining  the  patronage  of  the  town  corporation  and  the  Mayor. 
Inn-yards  were  frequently  chosen  as  convenient  sites  for  a 
temporary  theatre,  the  stage  being  extemporised  at  one  end  ; 
while  the  common  people  took  their  places  on  the  yard-floor, 
and  the  visitors  sat  in  the  balconies  that  ran  round  the  yard. 
These  arrangements  still  survive  in  the  pit,  with  the  boxes  and 
the  upper  circles,  of  the  modern  theatre.  There  was  no  attempt 
at  scenery  ;  a  printed  placard  announced  the  place  of  action  as 
'a  Wood  near  Athens,'  'The  Duke's  Palace,'  and  so  on.  At  the 
back  of  the  stage  there  was  always  a  balcony  raised  on  pillars, 
and  certain  parts  of  a  play  were  performed  on  this  balcony. 
Thus  in  Shakespeare's  King  John  the  men  of  Angiers  speak 
from  this  place,  as  representing  the  top  of  their  walls,  to  the 
English  besiegers  below.  One  peculiarity  of  the  arrangements 
was  that  aristocratic  patrons  and  fine-gentlemen  critics  used 
often  to  taken  their  stools  on  to  the  stage,  and  from  that  promi- 
nent position,  bandy  repartees  with  the  audience,  or  criticise  the 
play  itself.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  (Beaumont,  1586-16 16, 
Fletcher,  1576- 1625)  comedy,  the  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle, 
makes  admirable  dramatic  use  of  this  custom  ;  the  chief  fun 
of  the  play  being  centered  in  the  perpetual  criticisms  and 
irresponsible  interference  of  two  such  outsiders,  a  self-important 
citizen    and  his  absurdly  fussy  wife. 


ELIZABETHAN   LITERATURE.  13 

The    earliest   English    comedy  was    Ralph  Router  Doister 
_    ..  by  Nicholas  Udall  (1505-1556),  then  Head- 

Earhest  plays.  J  '    J    J      J  J    " 

master  of  Eton.  It  was  no  doubt  acted  by 
the  boys  of  the  College.  Ralph  is  a  coxcomb  and  a  gull,  who 
is  egged  on  by  his  mischief-making  parasite,  Matthew  Merry- 
greek,  to  make  love  to  Dame  Christian  Custance,  a  wealthy 
widow  ;  and  is  thus  led  into  all  sorts  of  ludicrous  scrapes. 
It  is  well  written  and  full  of  genuine  merriment.  Next,  both  in 
date  and  merit,  comes  Gammer  Gurlon's  Needle,  by  John 
Still  (1543-1607^,  Vice-Chancellor  of  the  University  of 
Cambridge,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells.  It  is  rather 
a  farce  than  a  comedy  ;  the  fun  turning  on  the  tricks  of 
Diccon  the  Bedlam,  and  the  search  for  a  lost  needle  which 
the  goodman  Hodge  finds  at  last  in  his  breeches  by  sitting 
upon  its  point.  The  defect  of  this  play  is  the  coarseness  of 
its  dialogue  ;  but  it  contains  one  of  the  best  of  English  drinking- 
songs.  Broadly  contrasted  with  these  two  plays,  both  alike 
genuinely  national,  is  the  first  tragedy,  Gorboduc  (1561),  written 
in  collaboration  by  Sackville  (Thomas,  afterwards  Lord  Buck- 
hiiFSt  and  Earl  of  Dorset,  1 536-1 608)  and  Norton  (1 532-1 584), 
both  members  of  the  Inner  Temple,  for  a  Christmas  entertain- 
ment in  the  Temple,  and  soon  afterwards  acted  before  the 
Queen  in  Westminster.  Norton  was  one  of  the  translators 
whose  work  appears  in  Sternhold  and  Hopkins's  metrical 
Psalms  which  were  added  to  the  Prayer-Book  in  1562. 
Gorboduc  was  not  authoritatively  published  till  1571,  and  then 
under  the  title  of  Ferrex  and  Porrex,  the  two  sons  of  King 
Gorboduc,  who,  Lear-like,  divided  his  kingdom  between  them, 
and  thus  brought  about  the  destruction  of  his  family,  himself, 
and  his  country.  This  tragedy  is  merely  classical,  a  stiff  imitation 
of  Seneca  :  with  the  curious  exception  of  the  dumb-shows  bet- 
ween the  acts,  which  form  a  link  of  connexion  with  the  national 
miracle-plays,  pageants,  and  masques.  We  find  survivals  of 
these  dumb-shows  in  the  Hamlet  and  Pericles  of  Shakespeare. 
The  most  remarkable  feature  in  the  growth  of  the  English 
Rejection  of  the  drama  is  our  instinctive  rejection  of  the  classi- 
ciassicai  type.  cai  ideai  which  for  so  many  centuries  enslaved 


14  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

French  dramatic  art.  The  combined  influence  of  the  Court, 
the  nobility,  and  the  Universities,  never  succeeded  in  populariz- 
ing either  Seneca  himself,  or  Seneca  as  developed  later  by  Cor- 
neille  and  Racine.  For  some  time  after  Gotboduc,  our  nat- 
ional drama  was  blindly  feeling  about  both  for  an  ideal  form 
and  for  a  suitable  type  of  verse.  Fourteen-syllable  lines  and 
a  careless  doggerel  (such  as  survives  here  and  there  in  Shakes- 
peare's earlier  plays)  gradually  give  place  to  a  tame  ten- 
syllable  line  ;  and  then  we  suddenly  come  upon  the  occasional 
lightning-gleams  of  poetry  which  afterwards  brightened  into 
the  full  blaze  of  Shakespeare's  verse.  These  gleams  of  in- 
spiration we  find  first  in  the  'University  Wits'  (i.  e.,  clever 
writers  educated  at  either  Oxford  or  Cambridge)  ;  then  among 
the  actor-writers  who  culminated  in  Shakespeare. 

Of   the    "University    Wits"    the    following    were    the  chief. 

The       University         GEORGE    PkkLK,  of    Oxford   (1558-1 598),  WTOte 

Wits-  David  and  Bethsabe,  full  of  poetical  beauties  ; 

and  a  Court  play,  The  Arraignment  of  Paris.  Robert 
Greene,  of  Cambridge  and  then  of  Oxford  (1560-1592),  lived 
a  dissipated  life,  and^produced  plays  and  numerous  pamphlets  ; 
his  best  play  being  Friar  Bacon  and  Friar  Bungay,  the 
'Margaret'  of  which  is  almost  worthy  of  Shakespeare.  He 
is  remembered  chiefly  for  his  spiteful  attack  on  Shakespeare 
(In  his  pamphlet  "Groats  worth  of  wit,"  1592,  where  he  refers 
to  Shakespeare  as  an  "upstart  Crow."  See  p.  116),  which 
is  one  of  many  illustrations  of  the  keen  jealousy  then 
existing  between  actors  and  scholars.  Thomas  Lodge  of 
Oxford  (1558-1625),  a  physician  as  well  as  a  writer,  wrote 
indifferent  plays,  with  the  exception  of  The  Looking  Glass  for 
London,  in  which  he  collaborated  with  Greene.  From  his 
prose  novel  Rosalynde  Shakespeare  borrowed  the  plot  of 
As  You  Like  It  (p.  158).  Thomas  Nash  of  Cambridge  (1 567- 
1601)  is  better  known  for  his  prose  than  his  dramatic  works. 
As  a  satirist  he  had  considerable  talent,  especially  in  his 
controversy  with  Gabriel  Harvey,  Spenser's  ill-advised  critic 
(1545-1630).  John  Lyly  of  Oxford  (1554-1606)  hardly  belongs 
to  this  set  ;  he  was  the  idol  of  a  fashionable  literary  clique  ;  but 


ELIZABETHAN   LITERATURE.  15- 

he  had  a  great  influence  on  Shakespeare's  development.  His 
dramas  are  little  more  than  the  masques  of  a  Court  poet. 
One  of  them  contains  the  well-known  gem,  'Cupid  and 
my  Campaspe  played.'  But  his  fame  rests  upon  his  inven- 
tion of 'Euphuism'  set  forth  in  his  Euphues  ;  the  Anatomy  of 
wit  and  Euphues  and  his  England.  The  two  leading  features 
of  Euphuism  were  laboured  antithesis  and  far-fetched  similes. 
In  his  followers  these  were  complicated  with  the  introduction 
(or  the  coining)  of  out-of-the-way,  fanciful  words  and  phrases. 
This  bastard  Euphuism  is  ridiculed  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost 
(in  many  of  the  prose  passages,  esp.  Act  I  sc.  i,  I  ii,  IV  i,  IV 
ii.)  ;  but  genuine  Euphuism  is  more  truly  illustrated  in  the 
tongue-fence  between  Benedick  and  Beatrice  in  Much  Ado 
About  Nothing  (Act  I  sc.  i,  IV  i,  V  iii).  The  following  is  a 
passage  from  the  Letters  of  Euphues  : — 

'There  be  many  meats  that  are  sour  in  the  mouth  and  sharp  in 
the  maw,  but  if  thou  mingle  them  with  sweet  sauces,  they  yield 
both  a  pleasant  taste  and  wholesome  nourishment.  Divers  colours 
offend  the  eyes,  yet  having  green  among  them,  whet  the  sight.  I 
speak  this  to  this  end,  that  though  thy  exile  seem  grievous  to  thee, 
yet  guiding  thyself  with  the  rules  of  Philosophy,  it  shall  be  more 
tolerable.  He  that  is  cold  doth  not  cover  himself  with  care  but 
with  clothes,  he  that  is  washed  in  the  rain  drieth  himself  by  the  fire 
not  by  his  fancy,  and  thou  which  art  banished  oughtest  not  with 
tears  to  bewail  thy  hap,  but  with  wisdom  to  heal  thy  hurt'.  x 

Thomas  Kyd  (about  1550-1600)  would  certainly  belong 
to  this  group,  could  we  be  sure  of  his  having  been  at  either 
University  ;  for  he  lived  and  wrote  as  one  of  the  set.  He 
produced  two  very  popular  plays,  Hieronymo  and  its  sequel 
The  Spanish  Tragedy,  both  alike  full  of  blood-curdling  horrors 
and  vulgar  rant.  Yet  here  and  there  we  find  passages  of  lofty 
poetry.  But  the  most  important  of  the  whole  group,  and  the 
one  who  influenced  Shakespeare's  development  most,  was 
Christopher  Marlowe,  of  Cambridge  (1564-1593).  His 
chief  plays  are  Tamburlaine,  Dr.  Eaustus,  The  Jeiv  of  Malta, 
and  Edward  II.  He  collaborated  with  Shakespeare  in  the 
second  and  third    parts  of    Henry  VI.     Shakespeare's  youthful 

1  Cf.  Richard  II.  i.  3.  236,  278—303. 


16  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

veneration  for  the  master  of  the  mighty  line  is  shown  in  the 
whole  structure  and  idea  of  his  Richard  III.  (p.  138)  ;  and  the 
tenderness  with  which  he  cherished  his  memory  is  strikingly 
shown  by  an  apposite  quotation  from  him  in  As  You  Like  It 
(iii.  5.  82-3).  His  Edivard  II  no  doubt  influenced  Shakespeare 
in  creating  Richard  II.  Marlowe's  great  merit  lay  in  the  life  and 
vigour  he  gave  to  the  wooden  and  nerveless  ten-syllable  line 
of  his  predecessors ;  he  discovered  and  called  into  life  that 
blank  verse  which  Shakespeare  perfected.  Though,  as  Swin- 
burne says,  he  'created  the  modern  tragic  drama',  he  was  not 
himself  a  great  dramatist :  he  had  no  touch  of  humour  and  no 
sense  of  artistic  proportion  •,  in  straining  after  the  vast  and 
the  awful,  he  sometimes  degenerated  into  bombast.  But  a 
large  proportion  of  his  work  has  a  force  and  poetic  beauty 
not  even  surpassed  by  Shakespeare  ;  and  his  two  poems  Hero 
and  Leander  and  The  Passionate  Shepherd  rank  only  below 
the  very  greatest  in  the  roll  from  Spenser  to  Shelley. 

These    University    Wits   were    for  the    most    part    men    of 
Their  charac-  loose  lives   and    reckless  habits.     Play  writing 

teristics.  was    profitable  ;    they  made  money  easily  and 

spent  it  freely.  Debt,  drink,  and  debauchery  brought  most  of 
them  to  an  untimely  grave.  Their  work*  is  thus  characterized 
by  Saintsbury  :— 'In  all  we  find  the  many-sided  activity  of  the 
Shakespearean  drama  as  it  was  to  be,  sprawling  and  struggling 
in  a  kind  of  swaddling  clothes  of  which  it  cannot  get  rid,  and 
which  hamper  and  cripple  its  movements.  In  all  there  is 
present  a  most  extraordinary  and  unique  rant  and  bombast 
of  expression  which  reminds'one  of  the  shrieks  and  yells  of  a 
band  of  healthy  boys  just  let  out  to  play.  The  passages 
which  (thanks  to  Pistol's  incomparable  quotations  and  parodies 
of  them)  are  known  to  every  one,  are  scattered  broadcast  in 
their  originals,  and  are  evidently  meant  quite  seriously 
throughout  the  work  of  these  poets.  Side  by  side  with  this 
is  another  mania,  the  foible  of  classical  allusion.  The  heathen 
gods  and  goddesses,  the  localities  of  Greek  and  Roman  poetry 
are  put  in  the  mouths  of  all  the  characters  without  the  remo- 
test attempt  to  consider   propriety  or   relevance... On  the  other 


ELIZABETHAN   LITERATURE.  17 

hand  the  merits,  though  less  evenly  distributed  in  degree,  are 
equally  constant  in  kind.  In  Kyd,  in  Greene  still  more,  in 
Peele  more  still,  in  Marlowe  most  of  all,  phrases  and  passages 
of  blinding  and  dazzling  poetry  flash  out  of  the  midst  of  the 
bombast  and  the  tedium  '  Contrast  the  following  rant  from 
Tamburlaine, 

'Holla,  ye  pampered  jades  of  Asia. 

What  !  can  ye  draw  but  twenty  miles  a  day,1 

And  have  so  proud  a  chariot  at  your  heels, 

And  such  a  coachman  as  great  Tamburlaine  ?' 
with  these  lovely  lines  from  Dr.  Faustus  : 

'Was  this  the  face  that  launched  a  thousand  ships, 

And  burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium  ? 

* • t  •••  •••  •••  •  •  * 

Oh,  thou  art  fairer  than  the  evening  air 

Clad  in  the  beauty  of  a  thousand  stars  !' 
Of   the    second    set,    the    actor-playwrights    who    preceded 
The  actor  Shakespeare,     we     know    very    little.      They 

playwrights.  worked  in   groups,    not    individually,   for   the 

benefit  of  their  respective  companies.  Since  they  depended 
primarily  on  the  worse-paid  art  of  acting  for  their  livelihood, 
and  since  an  actor  must  work  hard  and  keep  his  memory  clear 
and  his  brain  active,  he  cannot  afford  to  be  a  loose  liver  or  a 
drunkard.  Thus  we  find  the  members  of  the  actor  group  of 
whom  we  know  anything,  to  have  been  men  more  or  less  of 
the  Shakespeare  type ;  self-controlled  successful  men,  who 
made  the  best  of  their  opportunities.  The  work  they  contribut- 
ed was  the  creation  of  drama,  rather  than  of  poetry.  They 
made  the  characters  and  the  plot  develop  each  other,  acting 
and  reacting  on  each  other  as  organic  parts  of  a  living  whole, 
instead  of  using  the  plot  as  a  series  of  pegs  on  which  to  hang 
splendid  speeches,  or,  as  in  Marlowe's  case,  a  mere  background 
to  throw  out  in  lurid  light  the  hero's  all-devouring  egotism. 

Shakespeare's   dramatic    work   is    described  elsewhere  (pp. 

Shakespeare's         108-137).     Of  his    contemporaries,    four  were 

contemporaries:      especially    connected    with    him    by   personal 

Ben  Jonson.  r  J  J      r 

ties   or   by   the    character   of  their  work  :  viz., 


1  Cf.  8  Henry  IV,  ii.  4.  178-9. 


18  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Jonson,  Chapman,  Marston,  and  Dekker.  Ben  Jonson  (1573 
— 1635)  made  his  name  (through  Shakespeare's  good  offices, 
it  is  said)  by  Every  Man  in  his  Humour  (1596).  He  wrote 
many  plays,  the  chief  being  his  two  Roman  plays.  Sejanus  and 
Catiline,  which  are  genuinely  Roman  but  deficient  in  human 
interest ;  Volpone,  The  Silent  Woman,  The  Alchemist,  and 
Rartholomeiu  Fair.  Others  of  his  works  are  Cynthia's  Revels 
(1600);  a  large  number  of  Masques;  the  fragmentary  Sad 
Shepherd,  in  which  alone  he  shows  a  tender  pathos  ;  and  some 
of  our  best  songs,  as  '  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes.'  He 
sometimes  reveals  a  wonderful  sweetness  of  lyrical  expression, 
witness  the  following  stanza  from  A   Celebration    of    Charts  : — 

'  Have  you  seen  but  a  bright  lily  grow, 

Before  rude  hands  have  touched  it  ? 
Have  you  marked  but  the  fall  oJ  the  snow 

Before  the  soil  hath  smutched  it  ? 
Have  you  felt  the  wool  of  beaver  ? 

Or  swan's  down  ever  ? 
Or  have  smelt  o'  the  bud  o;  the  brier  ; 

Or  the  nard  in  the  fire  ? 
•   Or  have  tasted  the  bag  of  the  bee  ? 

O  so  white  !  O  so  soft  !  O  so  sweet  is  she  ! ' 

As  a  writer  of  epitaphs  he  is  unrivalled.  He  was  bearish 
and  quarrelsome,  a  learned  but  pedantic  scholar;  and  he 
cherished  a  scholar's  contempt  for  the  common  people.  He 
had  a  keen  eye  for  the  characteristic  foibles  of  men  and 
women,  and  a  wide  range  of  observation.  His  plays  thus 
exhibit  every  variety  of  wit,  subtle  character-analysis,  and 
knowledge  of  the  world.  Jonson's  genius,  however,  was  too 
unsympathetic  to  make  him  a  perfect  master  of  the  drama; 
we  admire  his  plays  and  study  them  ;  but  his  dramatis  personae 
do  not  come  home  to  our  hearts  as  Shakespeare's  do.  Of 
his  genuine  goodness  we  have  a  sufficient  proof  in  the  close 
friendship  that  subsisted  to  the  end  between  him  and  Shakes- 
peare, and  the  devotion  with  which  he  was  worshipped  by 
the  younger  dramatists  over  whom  he  exercised  a  literary 
dictatorship. 


ELIZABETHAN    LITERATURE.  1& 

George    Chapman   C 1559— 1634)    was    a  close    friend    of 
Chapman,  Mars-      Jonson's,    and    much    resembled   him  both  in 
ton,  Dekker.  personal  character  and  literary  skill.     He  had 

the  chief  hand  in  writing  the  satirical  play,  Eastward  Ho, 
containing  an  alleged  libel  on  the  Scots,  for  which  he,  Jonson, 
and  Marston  were  imprisoned.  He  completed  Marlowe's 
unfinished  poem,  Hero  and  Leander,  with  considerable 
success.  His  best  comedy  is  All  Fools  ;  his  best  tragedy 
Bussy  d°  Ambois,  one  of  a  group  of  five*  based  upon 
recent  historical  events  in  France ;  and  his  best  poem  is 
The  Tears  of  Peace  in  honour  of  his  patron  Prince  Henry. 
But  his  great  work  was  the  Translation  of  Homer  (161 1). 
His  dramatic  work  is  far  inferior  to  Jonson's,  except  in  occa- 
sional passages.  John  Marston  (1575  —  1634)  wrote  several 
plays,  the  earliest  and  best  being  Antonio  and  Mellida  ;  his 
best  comedy,  though  based  upon  an  improbable  and  unpleasant 
plot,  is  What  You  Will.  In  spite  of  blood-curdling  bombast 
there  are  fine  passages  in  his  plays.  Later  he  became  a  bene- 
ficed clergyman  and  gave  up  play-writing.  Thomas  Dekker 
(1570  — 1637),  a  hack  writer,  but  with  real  genius  both  for 
prose  and  poetry,  did  a  large  amount  of  dramatic  work,  chiefly 
in  collaboration  with  others.  He  has  written  some  exquisite 
lyrics,  especially  'Art  thou  poor  and  hast  thou  golden 
slumbers  ?'  and  he  approaches  Shakespeare  far  nearer  than 
■any  of  his  contemporaries  in  pathos,  and  in  the  delineation 
of  womanhood. 

Among    Shakespeare's    successors    the    first  place  is  due  to 
Shakespeare's  the  Pair  whose   work    brackets    them  together, 

successors.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.     Francis,  Beaumont 

of  Oxford  (1584 — i6s6)  formed  a  literary  friendship  with  Ben 
Jonson  soon  after  1602  ;  and  between  1607  to  16 16  he  lived 
and  worked  with  Fletcher.  John  Fletchkr  of  Cambridge 
( 1 579 — 1625)  was  son  of  the  Bishop  of  London.  In  this 
partnership  with  Beaumont,  he  probably  supplied  the  initiative 
and  the  dramatic  faculty;  Beaumont,  the  balance  of  a  wiser 
judgment  and  the  dignity  of  a  more  poetic  style.  Between 
them    they    wrote   more   than   fifty   plays,    all   of  considerable 


20  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

merit,  both  in  style  and  dramatic  construction.  But  in  their 
general  tone,  and  in  their  looser  versification  they  show  the 
beginnings  of  the  Restoration  decadence.  Of  their  tragedies 
the  best  are  The  Maid's  Tragedy,  Philaster,  The  False  One 
(from  which  Hazlitt  quotes  one  passage  of  high  tragic  power), 
and  Valenlinian  ;  of  their  comedies  (or  tragi-comedies),  A  King 
and  No  King.  The  Scornful  Ladv,  The  Humorous  Lieutenant, 
and  Rule  a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife  ;  lastly,  the  beautiful  pasto- 
ral, The  Faiiffful  Shepherdess.  Thomas  Middleton  (1570- 
1627)  did  not  take  to  dramatic  work  till  about  1600  ;  he  got  up 
pageants  for  the  City  of  London,  and  in  1620  was  made  city 
chronologer,  a  post  next  held  by  Ben  Jonson.  He  usually 
collaborated  with  others.  In  his  humorous  comedies  his  lively 
dialogue  with  bustling  action  carries  the  reader  away ;  and  the 
romantic  tone  of  his  Spanish  Gipsy  makes  it  a  charming  come- 
dy. He  spoiled  his  best  tragedies  by  using  Rowley's  ill-fitted 
comic  underplots  ;  but  there  is  high  tragic  power  in  The  Mayor 
of  Queenborough  ;  and  there  are  scenes  in  The  Changeling 
inferior  to  none  but  Shakespeare's.  The  villain  of  the  latter 
play  may  be  ranked  beside  Iago.  His  Witch  is  of  interest  in 
connexion  with  Macbeth  ;  the  resemblances  being  probably  due 
to  a  common  source  in  Reginald  Scott's  Discovery  of  Witchcraft 
(1 5S4).  His  Women  Beware  Women  handles  a  repulsive  theme 
with  almost  Shakespearean  power.  But  he  was  careless  in  his 
work;  and  his  moral  tone  is  lax.  John  Webstkr  (1602-1624) 
was  a  hardworking  collaborator  in  writing  plays  to  order. 
He  is  known  by  four  original  plays  :  Appius  and  Virginia  and 
The  DeviVs  Law  Case,  both  partial  failures  ;  and  two  of  the 
highest  merit.  The  White  Devil  or  Vittoria  Corombona  and  The 
Duchess  of  Malfi.  The  former  is  an  admirably  constructed 
drama ;  and  both  are  full  of  passages  of  fine  poetry  and  drama- 
tic touches  of  vivid  realism.  Thomas  Heywood  (died  about 
1650,  not  to  be  confounded  with  John  Heywood  [i 497-1 565  ;  see 
p.  1 1  )  has  been  called  'a  prose  Shakespeare'  by  Lamb  ;  meaning 
that  he  had  Shakespeare's  sympathy  with  common  humanity, 
though  not  Shakespeare's  power  of  poetically  painting  it.  He 
wrote    or  collaborated  in  two    hundred  and  twenty  plays.  In  this  ■ 


ELIZABETHAN  LITERATURE.  21 

wide  range  he  shows  great  ability  rather  than  genius  :  his  chronicle 
plays  are  the  weakest ;  his  classical  and  allegorical  pieces,  such  as 
The  Golden  Age,  are  tedious.  But  in  his  A  Woman  Killed  with 
Kindness  there  is  a  simplicity  of  pathos  and  a  depth  of  passion 
which  rises  almost  to  the  Shakespearean  level.  Cyril 
Tourneur  (died  about  1626)  in  his  tragedies  The  Atheist's 
Tragedy  and  The  Revenger's  Tragedy  exaggerates  the  worst 
faults  of  Marlowe  and  Kyd  ;  but  these  plays  contain  isolated 
passages  of  magnificent  poetry.  John  Day  (died  before  1640) 
collaborated  in  twenty-one  plays :  his  best  known  are  The 
Blind  Beggar  of  Bethnal  Green,  written  with  Chettle,  and 
the  dramatic  allegory  or  masque,  The  Parliament  of  Bees 
(1607),  immortalized  in  one  of  Swinburne's  sonnets. 

Three    dramatists    remain    to    be    noticed    in   the     closing 
decadence  of  Elizabethan    drama  :   Massinger, 

The  decadents.  _,.  -   _.  . . .  _  __.  .       _ 

tord,  and  Shirley.  Philip  Massinger  (1583- 
1640)  either  wrote  or  had  a  share  in  thirty-eight  plays;  of 
which  the  Unnatural  Combat,  and  The  Duke  of  Milan  are  his 
most  remarkable  tragedies,  but  marred  by  glaring  improba- 
bilities in  motive  and  action.  The  Roman  Actor  is  considered 
by  Saintsbury  to  be  his  best  tragic  effort ;  and  The  Fatal 
Dowry,  a  romantic  tragedy,  partly  written  by  him,  was  after- 
wards appropriated  by  Rowe  in  his  well-known  Fair  Penitent. 
Perhaps  Massinger's  masterpiece  is  A  Neiv  way  to  Pay  Old 
Debts,  and  the  'Sir  Giles  Overreach'  of  that  play  is  his  one 
jireat  creation.  It  has  been  conjectured  that  the  spiteful 
trick  by  which  Sir  Giles  is  ruined,  suggested  the  'Brass  and 
Quilp'  denouement  of  Dickens's  Old  Curiosity  Shop.  John 
Ford  (1 586-1639),  a  gentleman  of  independent  means,  was 
for  thirty  years  a  playwright.  Of  comedy  he  was  incapable  ; 
tout  he  collaborated  in  several  popular  plays,  notably  The  Witch 
of  Edmonton.  The  most  successful  of  his  own  tragedies 
depend  for  their  interest  on  what  Hazlitt  calls  'unfair  attrac- 
tions' ;  his  leading  characters  are  often  unnatural  to  the  point 
of  insanity.  But,  according  to  Saintsbury,  his  delineations 
•of  reckless,  all-sacrificing  passion  have  no  equal  in  English, 
save  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  or  Antony  and   Cleopatra,    in   spite 


22  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

of  his  comparative  weakness  in  both  execution  and  design. 
But.  decadent  as  he  was  in  moral  tone,  he  kept  up  the 
tradition  of  Elizabethan  blank  verse,  and  in  his  lyrics,  though 
inferior  to  Shirley,  he  excels  Massinger.  James  Shirley 
(i  596-1 666)  wrote  about  forty  plays.  The  splendid  lyric, 
'The  glories  of  our  blood  and  state,'  comes  from  one  of  his 
later  and  inferior  plays,  The  Contention  of  Ajax  and  Ulysses. 
His  best  tragedy  is  The  Traitor  ;  but  his  strength  lies  rather 
in  half-humorous,  half-romantic  drama,  such  as  his  Lady  of 
Pleasure  (1635),  which  set  the  fashion  to  a  long  series  of  post- 
Restoration  plays  on  the  caprice  and  extravagance  of  fine 
ladies.  His  versification  is  occasionally  lax,  but  it  never 
degenerates  into  the  decasyllabic  prose  of  his  younger  contem- 
poraries. It  was  the  felt  worthlessness  of  this  slipshod  blank 
verse,  so  universal  after  Shirley's  time,  that  drove  our 
dramatists  into  their  twenty  years'  sojourn  in  the  wilderness 
of  French  classicalism  and  the  heroic  couplet. 

(3)  Prose.  The  cultivation  of  English  prose  as  a  literary 
art  begins  no  earlier  than  Rogrr  Ascham 
its  Latinism.  (1515-1568),  tutor  to  Elizabeth,  and  Latin 
Secretary  during  both  her  reign  and  her  sister  Mary's.  He 
composed  Toxophilus  (1545),  a  treatise  on  archery  ;  and,  at  the 
end  of  his  life,  his  famous  Schoolmaster  (1568),  both  written  in 
simple,  pure,  and  vigorous  English.  The  following  passage  is 
from  his  Preface  to  Toxophilus  : — 

'For  this  purpose  I,  partly  provoked  by  the  counsel  of  some 
gentlemen,  partly  moved  by  the  love  I  have  always  borne  towards 
shooting,  have  written  this  little  treatise  ;  wherein,  if  I  have  not 
satisfied  any  man,  I  trust  he  will  the  rather  be  content  with  my 
doing,  because  I  am  (I  suppose)  the  first  which  hath  said  anything 
in  this  matter  (and  few  beginnings  be  perfect,  saith  wise  men)  ;  and 
also,  because  if  I  have  said  amiss,  I  am  content  that  any  man 
amend  it  ;  or  if  I  have  said  too  little,  any  man  that  will  to  add 
what  him  pleaseth  to  it.' 

In  the  same  Preface  he  says  :  'Although  to  have  written 
this  book  either  in  Latin  or  Greek  had  been  easier,  I  have 
written  this  English  matter  in  the  English  tongue  for  English- 
men.'    This    statement  explains    how  the   art  of  prose-writing 


ELIZABETHAN    LITERATURE. 


23 


came  to  be  then  in  its  infancy.  For  up  to  that  time,  whenever 
an  educated  Englishman  had  anything  of  importance  for 
publication,  he  wrote  it  in  Latin  as  a  matter  of  course  ;  just  as, 
later,  Sir  Isaac  Newton  wrote  his  epoch-making  Principia  in 
that  language.  To  men  of  that  age,  while  their  mother-tongue 
was  the  natural  language  of  imagination  and  emotion,  and 
therefore  of  poetry  ;  Latin  was  the  language  in  which  they 
instinctively  thought  and  reasoned,  and  was  therefore  the 
language  of  their  prose.  So  strong  was  this  tendency  in  the 
ultra-classical  Milton,  that,  while  he  expressed  a  half-conven- 
tional sorrow  in  the  English  of  Lycidas,  when  his  heart  was 
really  wrung  by  the  death  of  Charles  Diodati,  he  could  give 
sorrow  words  only  in  the  Latin  hexameter  (p.  214).  Richard 
Hookkr  (1554-1600),  the  author  of  the  famous  Ecclesiastical 
Polity,  has  such  a  passion  of  earnestness  about  him  that,  in- 
spite  of  his  Latin  idioms,  he  rises  from  time  to  time,  as  the 
argument  allows  it,  into  passages  of  sublime  or  exquisite 
beauty. 

Two  causes  however  greatly  helped  to    cure  this    Latinism. 

c      d— (a)     b        ^  'ie    craze    f°r   Euphuism  (p.  15)  at  least  had 
Euphuism      and      this  merit,  that  it   compelled    attention    to    the 

Sidneyism. 

cultivation  of  style  for  style's  sake ;  and  it 
weaned  prose  writers  lrom  the  classics  by  infecting  them 
with  a  mania  for  a  diction  and  imagery  that  were  partly 
Spanish,  partly  French,  and  largely  Oriental.  The  work  thus 
commenced  by  Lyly  was  carried  on  in  a  different  direction  by 
Sir  Philip  Sidney  (1554-15861,  whom  Drayton  praises  for 
having  purged  England  of  the  follies  of  Euphuism.  Sidney's 
prose  consists  of  his  Arcadia,  a  somewhat  tedious  pastoral 
romance,  and  his  Defence  of  Poesy.  The  argument  of  the 
latter  is  radically  unsound,  for  he  strenuously  defends  the 
Unities,  and  deprecates  the  intermixture  of  tragedy  and 
comedy  ;  which  means  that,  could  he  have  had  his  own  way, 
he  would  have  destroyed  the  whole  Elizabethan  drama,  and 
have  given  us  instead  the  barren  frigidities  of  the  Restoration. 
And  in  both  books  his  vices  of  style  are  extreme  and  mischiev- 
ous.    He  replaced  the  disease    of   Euphuism    by    popularising 


24  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

the  disease  of  what  we  may  call  'Sidneyism,'  which  consisted  in 
saying  the  simplest  thing  in  the  most  abstruse  possible  manner, 
and  in  heaping  clause  upon  clause  till  grammar  and  sense  are 
alike  confounded.  And  whereas  Euphuism  was  a  disease 
which  cured  itself  by  its  own  folly,  Sidney's  writings  are  so 
full  of  incidental  beauties  that  Sidneyism  too  long  held  its 
ground. 

The  other  influence  which  fostered    the    development    of   a 
iD    By  pamph-       vernacular     style     was     the     prevalence     of 
leteermg.  pamphleteering,  which  in    those    days    formed 

an  imperfect  substitute  for  modern  journalism.  As  burning 
questions  arose,  some  one  would  write  a  trenchant  pamphlet 
on  one  side  ;  the  other  side  would  issue  its  counterblast ;  then, 
as  other  champions  rushed  into  the  fray,  there  would  ensue  a 
general  melee.  In  such  a  warfare  it  is  obvious  that  what  was 
needed  was,  not  so  much  learning,  as  a  nimble  wit  joined  with 
a  pungent  vernacular  style.  Beside  these  controversial 
pamphlets  there  were  others  made  up  of  telling  satire,  of 
stories  of  adventure,  or  of  chronicles  of  the  latest  scandal  ;  and 
in  these  again  a  piquant  vernacular  was  obviously  indispensable. 
The  "University  Wits"  distinguished  themselves  in  pamphleteer- 
ing of  either  kind,  quite  as  much  as  by  the  drama.  Of  Greene's 
voluminous  pamphlets  the  only  ones  commonly  known 
are  his  Groat's  Worth  of  Wit  for  its  violent  attack  on 
'Shakescene'  (p.  1 16),  and  Pandosto,  because  it  supplied  the  plot 
of  A  Winter's  Tale.  Lodge  in  like  manner  supplied  the 
materials  for  As  You  Like  It  (p.  158).  Dekker's  best  pamphlet 
is  The  Gull's  Hornbook.  But  the  crowning  glory  of  pamph- 
leteering was  reserved  for  the  Martin  Marprelate  controversy 
(1588-1593)  between  the  Puritans  and  the  Anglican  Bishops. 
The  authorship  of  the  Martinist  tracts  is  unknown.  Thomas 
Cooper,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  published  the  official  reply. 
An  Admonition  to  the  People  of  England.  This  produced  a 
rejoinder  in  the  cleverest  of  all  the  tracts,  Hay  any  work  for 
Cooper  ?  which  is  in  parts  not  unworthy  of  Swift.  Regret- 
table as  the  whole  dispute  was,  it  undoubtedly  helped  greatly 
to   the    development   of  English  prose.     This  controversy  was 


ELIZABETHAN   LITERATURE.  25 

revived    on    a    larger    scale  in  1651,  with  Salmasius  and  Milton 
as  the  protagonists. 

The    remaining   prose    writers    of   this    period  that  call  for 
_...      _  notice  may  be  briefly  enumerated.  Sir  Walter 

Other  Prose  J  J 

Writers.    The         Raleigh    (15 52-1618)     during    his    imprison- 

Bible.  \    JJ  '  o  r 

ment  by  James  I  wrote  a  History  of  the  World, 
which  on  the  whole  is  dull  and  ill-arranged,  but  is  studded 
with  passages  of  peculiar  beauty.  He  wrote  but  little  verse, 
most  of  it  of  high  merit.  Bacon's  literary  work  is  described  else- 
where (1561-1626;  pp.  191-199).  Robkrt  Burton  ( 1 577-1640), 
Rector  of  Seagrave,  Leicestershire,  and  Fellow  of  Christchurch, 
Oxford,  wrote  a  monumental  treasury  of  quaint  conceits,  illus- 
trated by  endless  quotations,  called  The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy, 
a  book  which  was  Lamb's  greatest  delight.  Thomas  Fuller 
(1608- 1 66 1),  also  a  clergyman,  but  a  much  more  prolific 
writer,  is  best  known  by  The  Hoh  and  Profane  State, 
The  Worthies  of  England,  and  A.  Church  History  of 
Britain.  All  his  writings  quaintly  illustrate  his  own  adage 
that  'an  ounce  of  mirth,  with  the  same  degree  of  grace, 
will  serve  God  farther  than  a  pound  of  sadness.'  But 
the  prose  monument  of  this  period  is  the  Authorised  Version 
of  the  Bible  by  a  company  of  translators.  Perhaps  its  chief 
merit,  a  hundred  years  hence,  will  be  found  in  the  fact  that  it 
is  an  enduring  and  lifegivin°:  bond  between  the  literature  of 
England,  with  its  immemorial  past,  and  the  youthful  literature 
of  America,  which  has  its  heritage  in  the  future. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  AGE  OF  MILTON  AND  DRYDEN  (1625-1700). 

The  chief  characteristic  of  this  period  in  our  literature  is  its- 
its  decadence ;  decadence  in  literary  form  and  still  more  in 
moral  tone,  a  decadence  which  reaches  its 
climax  in  the  comic  dramatists  of  the  Restoration.  The 
immediate  cause  of  this  decadence  was  no  doubt  a  reation 
from  a  State-enforced  Puritanism.  But  that  Puritanism  itself 
was  merely  a  copy  on  a  new  pattern  of  the  state-enforced 
Catholicism  of  the  middle  ages,  and  the  State-enforced 
Anglicanism  of  Parker  and  of  Laud  :  the  only  difference  being 
that  this  one  lent  itself  more  easily  and  infallibly  to  a  violent 
reaction.  Besides  this  first,  there  were  four  main  causes  :  (r) 
a  decline  in  religious  belief  and  a  corresponding  relaxation  of 
moral  tone,  due  chiefly  to  the  predominant  influence  of  France 
both  in  politics  and  in  literature  ;  (2)  the  decline  of  patriotism 
through  the  prevalence  of  civil  strife  ;  (3)  the  servile  loyalty  to 
a  king  whose  court  was  thronged  with  drunkards,  poisoners, 
and  pimps — a  loyalty  which  made  the  condonation  of  Royal 
profligacy  one  of  the  duties  of  the  State  religion ;  (4)  the 
unfortunate  coincidence  of  a  great  improvement  in  the  per- 
formances of  the  reopened  theatres,  viz.,  the  rendering  of 
female  parts  by  women  actors,  with  the  supremacy  of  Charles 
IPs  dissolute  Court  over  the  Stage.  (This  reform  in  acting 
was  brought  over  from  France,  along  with  scenery  and 
orchestral  music,  by  Shakespeare's  godson,  Sir  William  Dav- 
enant).  For  thus  it  came  about  that  the  Stage,  which  in 
Shakespeare's  day  was  a  school  of  wit,  became  from  the 
restoration  of  Charles  II  to  the  death  of  George  IV  a  school 
of  immorality. 

In  one  respect,  however,  this  period  is  one  of  progress,  or 
rather  of  the    initiation    of    progress.     Charles 

The  new  Science.  ,  T     ,       .  .,  r        c    • 

II    had    an   amateur  enthusiasm  for  Science  ; 
and    his    founding  of   the    Royal    Society   marked    an    era    of 


THE    AGE"    OF   MILTON   AND   DRYDEN.  2? 

incalculable  importance  in  our  national  development.     Modern 
Science  was  born.      And  prose,  the  natural  language  of  science, 
inevitably  shared  in  this  new  life. 

To  go  back  in  actual  time  to  the  origin  of  what  Johnson  in- 
appropriately called  the  'Metaphysical  School' 

The  "Metaphy-  V*      V  3  V  S. 

sicai"  School ;  of  poets,  we  come  to  John  Donne  (1573- 
1631),  described  by  Ben  Jonson  as  'the  first 
poet  of  the  world  in  some  things' ;  and  by  Carew  as  one  who 
'ruled  the  universal  monarchy  of  wit.'  Even  Dryden,  the  head 
of  an  opposite  school,  admitted  that  he  was  'the  greatest  wit  of 
the  nation'  ;  though  Dryden  strongly  condemned  the  rough- 
ness and  inaccuracy  of  much  of  his  versification.  Donne 
was  a  man  of  the  world,  of  varied  experiences  and  accomplish- 
ments, who  wrote  satires,  lyrics,  and  meditative  or  philophical 
poems.  Brought  up  in  a  Roman  Catholic  family,  in  later 
life  he  became  a  strong  Anglican,  and  was  made  Dean  of  St. 
Paul's  in  1623  by  King  James  I.  In  spite  of  all  the  eccentricities 
of  his  School  his  poems  are  full  of  such  exquisite  touches 
as  mark  the  following  lines  from  his  Anatomy  of  the  World  on 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Drury  : — 

'Her  pure    and    eloquent  blood 

Spoke  in  her  cheeks,  and  so  distinctly  wrought, 

That  one  might  almost  say,  her  body  thought.' 
But  the  voluptuousness  of  some  of  his    poetry,    in    which    bad 
peculiarity  his   followers  exceeded    him,  is    one  of  the  clearest 
foreshadowings  of  the  Restoration  decadence. 

This  School  should  rather  be  called  the  Euphuistic  School  ; 
it's  Character-is-       its    ^u^s    °f     strained     conceits,    far-fetched 
tics-  analogies,     verbal     quibbles,    and    outlandish 

phraseology  are  precisely  those  of  prose  Euphuism.  Thus 
Richard  Crashaw  (161 3-1  649)  tells  us  in  his  The  Weeper  that 
when  'Heaven  will  make  a  feast'  for  some  guest  newly  arrived 
among  the  stars, 

'Angels  with  their  bottles  come 

And  draw  from  these  full  eyes  of  thine 

Their  Master's  water,  their  own  wine.' 
Crashaw,  however,   has  a  fine,    ecstatic    style  of  his  own,    seen 
in  such  a  description  as  this  of  the  nightingale's  song  : — 


"2S  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

'Then  starts  she  suddenly  into  a  throng 
Of  short  thick  sobs,  whose  thundering  vollies  float 
And  roll  themselves  over  her  lubric  throat 
In  panting  murmurs  stilled  out  of  her  breast, 
That  ever-bubbling  spring,  the  sugared  nest 
Of  her  delicious  soul,  that  there  does  lie 
Bathing  in  streams  of  liquid  melody.' 
Prom    an    emotional    Anglican    Crashaw    became    a     Roman 
Catholic.     His  poetry  is  nearly  all  religious.     His  quaint  poem 
on  the  'Not  impossible   She'    (Golden  Treasury,  lxxix)  has  the 
wealth  of    an    epigram  with    the  beauty    of  a  cameo.     Another 
feature  of  this    School  much    resembles    the    craze  for  topiary 
gardening  which  once  clipped   yew  or  box  trees  into  peacocks, 
apes,  or  plumed  banners.      In  the  same   way  we  find  in  George 
Herbert's  poems  verses  whose  lines  are  so  arranged  as  to  make 
a    rough    picture    of   an    altar,    a     pair    of    wings,    or    a    tree. 
Similarly  we  find    acrostics  and    anagrams,  with  various  freaks 
of  rhyme,  such  as  poems    in  which  each  line    is  rhymed  with  a 
significant  echo  of  the  last  syllable,  as  : — 

But  are  there  cares  and  business  with  the  pleasure  ? 
Echo.  Leisure. 

Light,  joy,  and  leisure  ;  but  shall  they  persever  ? 
Echo.  Ever.1 

The  besetting  sin  of  the  "metaphysical'  poets  was  that  they 
loved  imagery  for  its  own  sake,  not  for  the  effects  that  it 
could  produce  ;  they  toyed  with  it  as  a  mistress,  instead  of 
using  it  as  a  handmaid  ;  so  that,  from  being  a  means  to  an 
end,  it  became  for  them  an  end  in  itself. 

The  principal  poets  of  this  time  of  Donne's  supremacy  may 
Poets  of  the  be    briefly    noted.       George    Wither    (1588- 

Donne  period.  1667)  was  educated  at  Oxford,  but  from 
Loyalist  turned  Republican.  He  is  author  of  Philarete  and 
The  Shepherd's  Hunting  ;  known  by  the  song  'Shall  I  wasting 
in  despair' ;  and  is  highly  praised  by  Lamb  for  his  metrical 
skill     and     spontaneous     felicity     of     phrase.     Some    of    his 


The  Temple  ;  Heaven. 


THE   AGE   OF   MILTON   AND   DRYDEN.  29 

descriptive  work  anticipates  the  picturesqueness  of  Keats, 
though  he  too  often  degenerates  into  doggerel.  Robert 
Hrrrick  ( i  59  i-i  674)  wrote  Noble  Numbers  (sacred),  which 
are  at  once  sincere  and  beautiful,  and  Hesperides  (secular), 
which  contain  some  of  trie  loveliest  songs  in  our  literature,  as 
'To  Anthea,  who  may  command  him  anything.'  Thomas 
Carkw  ( 1  598- 1 639^,  one  of  the  Court  poets,  excels  in  perfec- 
tion of  lyrical  form,  and  his  fanciful  conceits  are  controlled 
within  the  range  of  credibility.  His  elegy  on  Donne  is  full  of 
virility,  both  in  thought  and  expression  ;  but  his  work  is  too 
often  marred  by  gross  sensuality.  'Holy'  Geokge  Herbert 
(1593-1633),  just  referred  to,  the  uncrowned  laureate  of  the 
English  Church,  wrote  The  Te?nple  in  verse  ;  The  Country 
Parson  and  Jacula  Prudentum  (a  collection  of  proverbs)  in 
prose.  The  Temple  is  a  mine  of  poetic  beauty  for  devout 
Christians,  and  some  of  its  gems,  especially  Virtue  ('Sweet  day, 
so  cool,  so  calm,  so  bright'),  are  in  every  collection  of  choice 
poetry.  With  George  Herbert  we  naturally  associate  Henry 
Vaughan  (1622-1695)  who  is  the  author  of  Silex  Scintillans 
(Divine  sparks  from  the  flint  of  the  heart)  in  Herbert's  style. 
His  beautiful  Retreat  {Golden  Treasury,  lxxv)  contains  the 
germ  of  Wordsworth's  Immortality  Ode.  Francis  Quarles 
(.1392-1644),  Archbishop  Usher's  secretary,  wrote  in  verse 
Divine  and  Moral  Emblems,  illustrated  with  grotesque  wood- 
cuts, and  in  prose  Enchiridion  a  book  of  pious  aphorisms. 
William  Habington  (1603-1654),  a  Roman  Catholic  gentle- 
man, married  Lucy,  the  daughter  of  Lord  Powis,  and  celebrated 
her  virtues  in  his  Castara  {Casta  ^4r«=Chaste  Altar),  a  poem 
distinguished  by  a  Catholic  Puritanism.  Richard  Lovelace 
(1618-1658)  and  Sir  John  Suckling  (1609-1642)  were  both 
wealthy  Cavaliers,  ruined  by  their  loyalty  to  the  King.  The 
former  is  immortalized  by  two  priceless  lyrics,  To  Lucasta, 
on  Going  to  the  Wars,  containing  those  inimitable  lines,  'I  could 
not  love  thee,  dear,  so  much,  Loved  I  not  Honour  more,'  and 
To  Althea,  from  Prison  {Golden  Treasury,  lxxxiii,  xcix,  the 
latter  by  his  graceful  and  sparkling  Ballad  upon  a  Wedding. 
Both  had  a  genteel  indifference  to   accurate  versification,  which. 


30  A    HANDBOOK    OF    EN'GLISH    LITERATURE. 

allowed    them  often    to  write    sheer   doggerel  ;  while  Suckling 
has  the  further  demerit  of  occasional  indecency. 

Edmund    Wallkr    (1605-16S7),    of  a  Royalist  family  and  a 
nephew  of  John  Hampden,  shifted  his  sails  to 

Waller's  School.  ,  .  ,  r  ,,  ,•  i  j 

the  successive  changes  of  the  political  wind. 
Thus  he  wrote  a  fine  panegyric  on  Cromwell  ;  plotted  against 
the  Parliament,  and  saved  himself  by  betraying  his  accomplices. 
He  was  a  complaisant  Court  poet  after  the  Restoration, 
and  softened  the  too  severe  morality  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's 
Maid's  Tragedy  by  some  ingenious  alterations,  which  made 
it  acceptable  to  Charles  II,  whom  at  its  close  he  thus 
compliments  : — 

'Long  may  he  reign  that  is  so  far  above 
All  vice,  all  passion  but  excess  of  love.' 
Waller's  chief  work  was   the  restoration  of  the    heroic   couplet, 
first  used  in  English  by    Chaucer    (  in  his  'A  Legend  of  Good 
Women'    and    the   greater  part  of  "The   Canterbury  Tales"  ; 
probably    in    imitation  of  his  favourite  French  Poets),  to   sole  if 
temporary  supremacy  in  English  song.     He  wrote    The   Battle 
of  the  Summer  Islands,  but  his    best  poetry  is  contained  in  his 
lyrics    such    as    'Go    lovely  rose'    and    On   a    Girdle  (Golden 
Treasury,  lxxxix,   xcv).    Seldom  has   happy  idea   been    more 
-happily  expressed  than  in  his  lines  on  Old  Age  : — 
'The  soul's  dark  cottage,  batter'd  and  decay'd, 
Lets  in  new  light  through  chinks  which  time  has  made  : 
Stronger  by  weakness,  wiser  men  become, 
As  they  draw  near  to  their  eternal  home. 
Leaving  the  old,  both  worlds  at  once  they  view, 
That  stand  upon  the  threshold  of  the  new.' 
Waller's    first  disciple    was    Sir   John    Denham    (161 5- 1668), 
who  wrote    a  panegyric    on  the   River   Thames    as    seen    from 
Cooper's   Hill :    a   poem    extravagantly     praised    by    Dryden. 
Four  lines  of  it  have  been  often  quoted  : — 

'O  could  I  flow  like  thee,  and  make  thy  stream 
My  great  example,  as  it  is  my  theme  ! 
Though  deep,  yet  clear  :  though  gentle,  yet  not  dull 
Strong  without  rage  ;  without  o'erflowing  full.' 


THE    AGE   OF   MILTON    AND   DRYDEN.  31 

Abraham  Cowley  (i6  18-1667),  wrote  a  series  of  elaborate  love- 
conceits,  The  Mistress  ;  a  sacred  epic,  the  Davideis ;  and  a  fine 
•elegy  on  Crashaw.  He  set  a  new  fashion,  which  lasted  till  the 
time  of  Gray  (1716-1771  ;  see  pp.  278-282),  with  his  Pindarique 
Odes  (1656),  in  an  irregular  go-as-you-please  form,  adapted 
loosely  from  Corneille.  Sir  William  Davenant  (1606-1668) 
became  a  convert  to  Waller  after  1650,  and  published  an  epic, 
Gondibert,  once  much  admired.  But  his  chief  work  was  connec- 
ted with  the  iStage  (see  below).  We  now  come  to  Dryden, 
whose  life-work  is  discussed  elsewhere  (pp.  246-254). 

Dryden's  forty  years'  reign  is  almost  barren  except  for  his 
Poets  of  Dry-  own  poems  and  those  of  Milton,  whose  work  is 
den's  period.  separately  treated  (pp.  203-235  ),  and  who, 
while  in  the  Restoration  period,  was  emphatically  not  of  it. 
Four,  however,  may  be  mentioned  as  in  one  way  or  another 
above  the  low  surrounding  level.  Samuel  Butler  (1612-1680) 
lampooned  the  Puritans  in  a  long  octosyllabic  poem,  Hudibras, 
distinguished  by  coarse,  rancorous  wit  and  clever  rhymes  ;  the 
latter  often  as  audacious  as  Robert  Browning's.  Charles  II's 
Court  went  into  ecstasies  over  it.  A  very  different  man  was 
Andrew  Marvell  (1621-1678),  the  last  of  the  great  lyrical  poets 
of  the  Romantic  School.  He  was  tutor  to  Mary  Fairfax,  assistant 
secretary  to  Milton,  and  Member  of  Parliament  for  Hull  after 
the  Restoration.  In  his  Ode  to  Cromwell  he  pays  a  fine  tribute 
to  the  stately  fortitude  of  Charles  I  on  the  scaffold.  Under  the 
Restoration  he  lashed  in  his  Satires  the  vices  of  Charles  II  with 
such  wit  that  the  monarch  sought  earnestly,  but  in  vain,  to  bribe 
him  by  Court  favours.  His  Thoughts  in  a  Garden  {Golden 
Treasury,  CXI)  is  one  of  the  loveliest  lyrics  in  any  language. 
John  Wilmot,  Earl  of  Rochester  (1647-1680),  a  dissolute  Court 
nobleman,  wrote  some  of  the  best  songs  of  the  Restoration 
period,  and  Lord  Dorset's  (1637-1706)  were  of  considerable 
merit.  John  Philips  (1676- 1709)  is  author  of  Cider,  a  poem 
in  imitation  of  Vergil's  Georgics,  but  is  best  known  by  his 
Splendid  Shilling,  in  which  he  parodied  the  style  of  Paradise 
Lost.  John  Pomfret  (1667- 1702)  wrote  The  Choke,  in  praise 
of  a  retired  life  in  the  country. 


32  A   HANDBOOK  OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

The  failure  in  1629  of  Ben  Jonson's    play,    The    New   Inn, 
The  Restoration      produced    by    him    after    a  long  absence  from 
dramatists.  tne  stage,  marks  the   beginning  of  the  Drama's 

decline.  Sir  William  Davenant  (see  above),  poet-laureate  and 
playwright,  is  a  connecting  link  between  the  Elizabethan  and 
Restoration  dramatists.  During  the  active  life  of  Jonson  and 
"Dekker  he  published  plays  of  considerable  merit,  though  the 
blank  verse  is  very  slipshod.  Worse  still  is  the  versification  of 
Sir  John  Suckling's  dramas.  Dryden  wrote  for  the  stage  only 
under  the  compulsion  of  necessity.  Sir  George  Etherkdge 
(1634-1691)  was  the  first  writer  of  modern  English  comedy  ;  he 
had  studied  the  art  successfully  under  Moliere.  His  plays 
portray  the  fashionable  life  of  the  man  about  town  and  are  dis- 
figured by  the  license  of  the  age.  Thomas  Shadwkll  (1640- 
1692)  was  by  no  means  the  blockhead  that  Dryden  paints  him 
{in  Absalom  and  Achitophel,  1681);  his  comedy  of  Epsom 
Wells  has  real  merit.  Sir  Charles  Sedley  (1639- 172 2)  helped 
to  extend  the  influence  of  French  comedy  upon  the  English 
stage.  William  Wycherley  (1640-17 15)  brought  out  Love 
in  a  Wood  in  1672.  followed  by  The  Country  Wife  and 
The  Plain  Dealer  in  1675  and  1677.  These  mark  the  zenith 
of  his  fame.  The  most  interesting  part  of  his  life  is  his 
friendship  with  the  youthful  Pope  ( 1688-1 744 »  which  brightened 
its  close.  Thomas  Otway  (165 1-1685)  wrote  two  tragedies 
The  Orphan  and  Venice  Preserved.  His  command  of  pathos 
and  sense  of  humour  ally  him  rather  to  the  post-Shakespearean 
than  to  the  Restoration  dramatists.  Thomas  Southerne 
(1659-1746)  studied  Shakespeare  both  for  style  and  for 
business-like  success.  Otway  was  his  model  and  in  his 
tragedies,  The  Fatal  Marriage  and  Oroonoko,  he  attained 
some  real  merit.  Nathaniel  Lee  ( 1655-1692)  was  a  'vulgar 
Marlowe.'  He  assisted  Dryden  in  some  of  his  plays.  His  own 
best  plays  are  The  Rival  Queens  and  Mithridates.  He  died 
miserably  of  profligacy  and  madness,  as  Otway  before  him  had 
died  of  starvation.  Elkanah  Settle  (1 648-1724),  the  'Doeg'  of 
Absalom  and  Achitophel  (1 68  1),  outranted  Lee  in  The  Empress  of 
Morocco,  his  one  great  success.  Mrs.  Aphra  Behn  (1640-1 689), 


THE    AGE   OF    MILTON    AND    DRYDEN.  33 

the 'Astraea'  of  Pope's  satire,1  wrote  clever  but  very  coarse 
comediA.  She  was  the  first  woman  who  made  a  livelihood 
by  literature.  All  these  heroic  plays  were  cleverly  satirized 
bv  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  in  The  Rehearsal. 

We    now  come   to    the  'Orange'    or    Hanoverian  school  of 

The   Hanoverian        dramatists.       WlLLIAM    CoNGREVE     (167O-I729) 

dramatists.  tne  wittjeg^  m0st  brilliant,    and    most    cynical 

of  the  group,  wrote  the  comedies,  The  Old  Bachelor,  The 
Double  Dealer,  Love  for  Love,  a  perfect  stage  play,  and  The 
Way  of  the  World  (containing  the  remarkable  character  of  'Mrs. 
Millamant'),  and  one  tragedy,  The  Mourning  Bride,  of  which 
the  first  line,  'Music  hath  charms  to  soothe  the  savage  breast,' 
has  become  proverbial.  Captain  John  Vanbrugh  (1672-1726), 
more  English  and  realistic  than  Congreve  and  a  clever  humorist, 
wrote  ten  comedies,  of  which  J  he  Confederacy  is  the  best. 
Collk.y  Gibber  (1671-1  757),  actor,  dramatist,  and  poet-laureate, 
wrote  some  thirty  plays,  and  adapted  Shakespeare's  Richard  11L 
and  King  Lear  to  the  degraded  taste  of  his  age.  His  own 
plays  have  no  great  merit,  but  are  comparatively  free  from  the 
cynical  licentiousness  of  his  contemporaries.  George  Farquhar 
(1678- 1 707),  actor,  army-captain,  and  dramatist,  more  whole- 
some than  Congreve,  if  not  much  more  decent,  is  best 
known  by  his  Recruiting  Officer,  and  The  Beaux'  Stratagem,  It 
is  somewhat  strange  that  Macaulay  in  his  well-known  Essay 
never  once  lays  his  finger  on  the  real  fault  of  these  dramatists. 
Their  viieness  does  not  consist  merely  in  their  being  either 
indecent  or  immoral.  Hamlet  is  indecent  on  occasions  ;  but 
his  indecency  is  dramatically  appropriate  and  inevitable.  His 
loose  talk  to  Ophelia  in  the  play-scene  shows  that  her  shallow 
falsehood  has  killed  his  love,  and  that  henceforth  he  treats 
her  simply  as  a  gay  and  accomplished  woman  of  the  world. 
Again  Byron's  Don  Juan  is  profoundly  immoral,  but  it  will 
always  be  read  as  a  masterpiece  of  social  satire.  A  conscience- 
less, hypocritical  time-serving  was  the  cancer  of  the  Restoration 
age.     Wycherley,  Congreve,  and  their  compeers  were  vile    be- 

1  Satires,  V.  290. 


34  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

cause  they  were  utterly  insincere  ;  because  they  were  indecent 
and  immoral  simply  for  the  sake  of  making  mon^  and  of 
being  in  the  fashion. 

This  unclean  monster  of  Restoration    Comedy    was    killed 
„  ...  by   a  prose-writer,    Jeremy   Collier  (1650 — 

Jeremy  Collier.  /  r  >  v       -> 

1726),  a  High  Church  bishop,  who  had  re- 
fused to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  William  III,  and  who, 
therefore,  having  the  sympathy  of  the  old-fashioned  Royalists, 
incurred  none  of  the  odium  which  would  have  neutralized  the 
protests  of  any  Puritan  writer.  His  Short  View  of  the  Pro- 
faneness  and  Immorality  of  the  English  stage  (1628),  in  which, 
as  Macaulay  says,  he  'distributes  his  swashing  blows  right  and 
left  among  Wycherley,  Congreve,  and  Vanbrug,  treads  the 
wretched  D'Urfey  down  in  the  dirt  beneath  his  feet,  and 
strikes  with  all  his  strength  full  at  the  towering  crest  of  Dryden/ 
made  a  great  sensation.  For  it  expressed  the  real  conviction 
of  the  nation,  as  opposed  to  the  mere  fashion  of  Court 
gallantry.  There  were  weak  points  in  Collier's  argument,  but 
conscience  made  cowards,  or  rather  fools,  of  his  opponents. 
Dryden  alone  bowed  his  head  in  the  dignity  of  penitence. 
Congreve,  Vanbrugh,  and  the  lesser  fry,  blustered  and  blunder- 
ed, and  laid  themselves  easily  open  to  Collier's  crushing  re- 
joinder. The  battle  was  won  ;  and  thenceforward  the  English 
stage  became  at  least  conventionally  decent. 

Among  the  earlier    prose-writers    of    this    period    we    have 

Earlier  THOMAS       HOBBES     ( I  5 88 — 1 679),     who      WTOte 

prose-writers.  Thf  Leviathan,  and  greatlv  helped  the  develop- 

ment of  prose  by  the  simplicity,  directness,  and  clearness  of 
his  style,  his  writings  being  very  popular  with  the  cultivated 
classes  of  his  day.  '  Leviathan'  is  a  metaphorical  name  for  the 
State,  which  Hobbes  considered  tc  be  supreme,  even  as  re- 
gards questions  of  religious  doctrine  and  worship.  Opposed 
to  Hobbe's  monarchical  theories  is  the  Oceana  (=England) 
of  James  Harrington  (i6ic  — 1^77)  in  which  he  pictures 
a  model  republic,  which  is  governed  on  philosophical  principles 
and  even  includes  voting  by  ballot.  Bishop  Jeremy  Taylor 
(161 3  — 1667),  perhaps  the  most  eloquent  of  Anglican  divines, 


THE   AGE   OF   MILTON   AND   DRYDEN.  35 

-among  many  other  works,  is  chiefly  known  by  his  Liberty  of 
Prophesying  and  his  Holy  Living  and  Dying.  His  style  is 
florid  and  ornate,  the  sentences  often  ill-managed  and  con- 
fused ;  but  there  is  throughout  a  vein  of  poetic  feeling  which 
makes  us  forget  his  inaccuracies  and  mannerisms.  Sir  Thomas 
Browne  (1605  — 1682)  settled  as  a  doctor  in  Norwich  ;  though 
a  steady  royalist,  he  was  not  disturbed  during  the  Common- 
wealth. He  wrote  Keligio  Medici,  a  sort  of  confession  of  faith, 
though  by  no  means  confined  to  religious  matters  ;  an 
Enquiry  mlo  Vulgar  Errors ;  Hydriotaphia  or  Urn  Burial, 
'a  magnificent  descant  on  the  vanity  of  human  life,  based  on  the 
discovery  of  certain  cinerary  urns  in  Norfolk  ;'  and  The  Garden 
of  Cyrus,  a  curious  disquisition  on  quincunxes  and  the  mystic 
properties  of  the  number  five.  Urn  Burial  closes  with  the 
following  fine  apostrophe  :  — 

'O  eloquent,  just,  and  mighty  death,  whom  none  could  advise, 
thou  hast  persuaded  ;  what  none  have  dared,  thou  hast  done  ;  and 
whom  all  the  world  flattered,  thou  only  hast  cast  out  of  the  world 
and  despised  ;  thou  hast  drawn  together  all  the  far  stretched 
greatness,  all  the  pride,  cruelty,  and  ambition  of  man,  and  covered 
it  all  over  with  these  two  narrow  words,  Hie  facet.' 

Browne's  Christian  Morals  appeared  after  his  death.  His 
style  is  remarkable  for  imaginative  exuberance  and  for  a 
quaint  and  happy  use  of  Latinisms  ;  and  it  is  to  his  influence 
that  the  Essays  of  Elia  (p  368)  owe  much  of  their  charm  of 
"manner  and  style.  Edward  Hyde,  Earl  of  Clarendon 
(1609-1674),  wrote  a  monumental  History  of  the  Great  Rebel- 
lion (1625-1644),  in  which  he  portrays  the  characters  of  the 
men  of  the  time  with  great  skill  and  penetration.  His  style  is 
dignified,  but  occasionally  disfigured  by  cumbrous  and 
ill-balanced  sentences.  Izaak  Walton  (i  593-1683)  wrote 
Lives  of  Donne,  Wotton,  Hooker,  Herbert,  and  Sanderson. 
He  still  charms  us  by  the  prose-poetry  of  his  Complete  Angler, 
which  was  supplemented,  as  regards  trout  and  grayling,  by 
Charles  Cotton  (1630-1687),  who  also  wrote  verse.  One. 
of  his  poems  is  quoted  with  high  praise  in  Lamb's  Essay  on 
New  Fear 's  Eve. 


36  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

About   the  year    1660   the    style  of  English  prose  changed 
noticeably ;  the    interminable    sentences,   with 

The  new  prose.  .     .  ..  ,  ,  .       ,     . 

their  complications  01  parentheses  and  their 
redundant  imagery,  were  replaced  by  a  terser,  simpler  style. 
The  first  writer  of  this  more  modern  type  was  John  Wilkins, 
(1614-1672),  Bishop  of  Chester,  one  of  the  founders  of  the 
Royal  Society,  who  wrote  curious  treatises  on  astronomical 
speculations,  and  anticipated  in  imagination  the  inventions  of 
telegraphy  and  of  the  modern  flying  machine.  His  successor 
in  his  bishopric,  John  Pearson  (1612-1686)  wrote  a  standard 
Exposition  of  the  Creed.  Richard  Baxter  (1615  — 1691),  a 
Nonconformist  divine  of  great  learning  and  piety,  is'  still 
popular  with  his  Saints'  Everlasting  Rest,  and  his  Call  to  the 
Unconverted.  Cowley  (p.  30)  is  really  more  important  as  a 
writer  of  prose  than  as  a  poet.  His  Essays  are  graceful  and 
delicate,  and  well  worth  perusal.  John  Evelyn  (1620- 1706),  a 
voluminous  and  learned  writer,  is  best  known  by  his  Diary. 
Bunyan  has  a  separate  notice  (p.  242).  Sir  William  Temple 
(1628-1699)  was  a  notable  statesman  and  essay- writer.  He  is 
chiefly  memorable  for  his  share  in  originating  the  'Phalaris' 
controversy,  in  which  the  great  classical  scholar  Bentley  (p.  46) 
exposed  the  ignorance  of  those  Oxford  scholars  who  sup- 
ported the  shallow  sciolism  of  Temple's  essay,  Of  Ancient  and 
Modern  Learning.'1  George  Fox  (1624- 1690),  the  great 
Quaker,  wrote  an  impressive  journal.  Isaac  Barrow  (1630- 
1677),  Master  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  and  John 
Tillotson  (1630-1694),  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  wrote 
sermons  and  theological  treatises  ;  the  style  of  the  latter  was 
highly  praised  by  Dryden.  That  writer's  prose  work  is  dis- 
cussed separately  (p.  252). 

Of  prose-writers  after  Dryden  the  most   eminent  in  thought, 
Prose  after  though    with    little    charm    of    style,    is    John 

Dryden.  Locke    (1632-1704).     He     wrote    Treatises  of 

Government  and  a  Letter  on    Toleration;  but  his  great    work    is 

*       , - . — ■ — 

1  Bentley  proved  that  the  supposed  Epistles   of  Phalaris    (on    which 
the  Temple-Boyle  party  relied)  were  spurious. 


THE   AGE    OF    MILTON    AND   DRYDEN.  37 

An  Essay  concerning  Human  Understanding.  Samuel  Pepys 
(1^>33-l7°3),  Secretary  to  the  Admiralty,  kept  a  private  diary 
in  cipher  for  over  nine  years.  It  was  deciphered  and  published 
by  Lord  Braybrooke  in  1825  ;  and  is  invaluable  for  the  insight 
it  gives,  in  simple,  unaffected  style,  into  the  life  of  the  upper 
classes  under  Charles  II.  Dr.  Thomas  Burnet  (1635-1715), 
a  Yorkshire  divine,  is  the  only  instance  in  this  period  of  a 
writer  of  imaginative  sublimity.  The  close  of  his  Sacred 
1  heory  of  the  Earth  is  described  by  Addison  as  a  'funeral 
oration  over  this  globe.'  The  wild  picturesqueness  of  his 
description  reminds  us.  in  poetry,  of  Christopher  Smart's 
wonderful  Song  to  David  (p.  43).  Dr.  Robert  South  (1633- 
1699)  and  Dr.  William  Sherlock  (1641-1707)  were  noted 
preachers  and  controversialists,  highly  esteemed  in  their  day. 
Gilbert  Buknet  (1643-1715),  a  most  successful  preacher, 
had  the  courage  to  rebuke  Charles  II  for  his  vices,  and  was 
consequently  obliged  to  retire  to  Holland.  There  he  became 
chaplain  to  William  III,  and  was  made  Bishop  of  Salisbury 
after  the  Revolution.  The  most  interesting  of  his  numerous 
works  is  his  posthumously  published  History  of  my  ozvn 
Times,  a  lively,  gossiping  narrative,  written  in  a  somewhat 
slovenly  style.  Robert  Boyle1  (1627-1691)  was  greater  as  a 
scientist  and  philosopher  than  as  a  writer  of  English  prose. 
He  founded  the  'Boyle  Lectures'  for  defending  the  claims 
of  Christianity  by  the  exposition  of  its  evidences,  philosophical 
■and  historical. 


1  To  be  distinguished  from  Charles  Boyle,  the  hero  of  the   'Phalaris, 
controversy  (p.  36. ) . 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  AGE  OF  POPE,  SWIFT,  AND  JOHNSON  (1700-1785). 

This  period  in  our  literature    is  characterised    by   the    pre- 
Characteristics      dominance    of  Pope's  highly  polished  artificia- 
of  the  period.  ]jty  m  p0etrVi  reaching  its  self-refutation  in  the 

unintended  parodies  of  Erasmus  Darwin  ;  though  interrupted 
for  a  space  by  the  nascent  naturalism  of  Thomson,  Gray,  and 
Collins.  The  hardness  of  the  age,  which  was  one  of  political 
strife  and  dishonesty,  of  unblushing  materialism,  and  of 
rationalistic  philosophy,  is  reflected  in  its  literature,  with  its 
entire  lack  of  passion  or  enthusiasm,  its  limited  range,  its  cold 
perfection  of  form  united  with  extreme  poverty  of  ideas. 
'Literature  appeared,'  says  Shairp,  'like  a  well-bred,  elderly 
gentleman  in  ruffles  and  peruke,  of  polished  but  somewhat 
chilling  manners,  who  met  all  warmth  of  feeling  with  the  frost 
of  etiquette,  and  whose  conversation,  restricted  to  certain 
subjects,  touched  but  the  surface  of  these,  and  even  that  in  set 
phrases.'  With  a  few  exceptions,  the  poetry  of  this  period, 
writes  Wordsworth,  'does  not  contain  a  single  new  image  of 
external  nature,  and  scarcely  presents  a  familiar  one  from 
which  it  can  be  inferred  that  the  eye  of  the  poet  had  been 
steadily  fixed  upon  the  object,  much  less  that  his  feelings  had 
urged  him  to  work  upon  it  in  the  spirit  of  genuine  imagination/ 
In  the  much  abused  writers  of  this  age  there  were,  however, 
three  of  the  great  virtues  of  literature — clarity,  breadth,  and 
force ;  and  to  some  extent  their  indifference  to  Nature  has 
been  exaggerated.  Nature  in  her  wildest  moods  and  most  awe- 
inspiring  forms  they  could  not  understand  ;  but  Nature  in  its 
more  human  phases,  as  shown  in  the  social  life  of  men,  appeal- 
ed to  them,  and  this  measure  of  human  sympathy  they 
bequeathed  to  the  Romantic  poets.  But  Pope's  'study  of  man- 
kind' was  rather  the  study  of  the  humours  of  men  than  of 
mankind  as  a  whole  ;  it  is  the  study  of  classes  of  men  and  not 


THE   AGE   OF   POPE,   SWIFT,   AND   JOHNSON.  39 

of  the  Universal  Man,  rising  above  all  distinctions  of  caste  and 
race,  an  idea  which  did  not  exist  in  Pope's  time  and  which  we 
owe  to  the  French  Revolution.  The  drama  lay  almost  dormant, 
but  latterly  revived  the  wit,  while  excluding  the  corruption,  of 
the  Restoration,  in  Goldsmith's  masterpieces  and  in  the 
brilliant  comedies  of  Sheridan.  But  the  great  distinction  of 
this  period  is  the  birth  of  the  modern  novel,  perhaps  the  most 
powerful  instrument  of  existing  literary  art,  and  the  gradual 
elevation  of  English  prose  to  the  pure  and  stately  excellence  it 
attained  in  the  hands  of  Addison,  Gibbon,  and  Burke. 

Two  poets  may  be  mentioned  as  intermediate  links  between 
Pope    and    his      the    verse    of    Dryden    and  that  of  Pope.     Sir 
successors.  Samuel  Garth  (1660  i  7  i  9)  wrote  The  Dispen- 

sary, a  mock-heroic  poem  to  satirise  the  apothecaries  who 
opposed  the  charitable  work  of  the  College  of  Physicians 
among  the  poor.  His  didactic  verse  has  considerable  merit. 
Anne  Finch,  Countess  of  Winchelsea  (1660-1720),  has  the 
great  merit  of  direct  study  of  external  nature.  Wordsworth 
praises  her  Nocturnal  Reverie.  Her  line  'We  faint  beneath  the 
aromatic  pain,'  is  imitated  and  improved  upon  by  Pope 
(Epp.  I.  200).  His  life-work  is  detailed  separately  (p.  263). 
Three  lesser  lights  shine  near  him,  yet  each  with  some  measure 
of  individuality.  Matthew  Prior  (1664-172 1 ),  poet  and 
diplomatist,  wrote  graceful  lyrics  with  an  easy  charm,  and  an 
epic  entitled  Solomon.  John  Gay  (1685-1732)  had  a  some- 
what wider  range  :  he  made  a  small  fortune  with  his  Beggar 's 
Opera  and  its  officially  prohibited  continuation,  Polly ;  his 
Shepherd's  Week,  written  for  Pope  in  parody  of  the  Pastorals 
of  Ambrose  Philips  (1675-1749),  has  survived  by  its  own 
merits  ;  and  his  Trivia  is  of  interest  for  the  humour  with 
which  it  describes  the  London  streets.  His  Fables  have  had 
considerable  vogue,  but  his  best  work  is  his  charming  songs 
and  ballads.  Thomas  Parnell  (1679-17 18),  Archdeacon  of 
Clogher,  wrote  The  Hermit,  and  two  admirable  Odes,  The 
Night  Piece  and  the  Hymn  to  Contentment.  Pope's  influence 
is  seen  more  in  the  form  than  in  the  substance  of  these  poems, 
for    he    has   more    imagination   and    spiritual   power  than   his 


40  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

master.  Thomas  Tickell  (1686- 1740),  like  Philips,  was  a 
friend  of  Addison,  on  whose  death  he  wrote  a  beautiful  and 
touching  elegy,  telling  how  his  friend 

'Taught  us  how  to  live  ;  and  oh  !  too  high 
The  price  for  knowledge,  taught  us  how  to  die.' 

In  Scotland  the  dawn  of  naturalism  in  poetry   was    heralded 

Dawn  of   natur-        by   ALLAN    R.AMSAY   (1686-1758),  who  helped  tO 

ahsm'  prepare  the  way  for  Burns,  more  by  publishing 

the  ballads  of  others  than  by  his  own  verse.  In  England 
Edward  Young  (1681-1765),  a  clergyman,  who  vainly  sought 
to  bs  made  a  bishop,  wrote  three  fairly  successful  tragedies, 
and  a  series  of  popular  satires  ;  but  his  great  work  was  The 
Complaint,  or  Night  Thoughts,  in  nine  books  of  blank  verse, 
written  when  he  was  over  sixty  years  old.  This  poem  had  an 
immense  reputation  ;  it  contains  many  dignified  and  powerful 
passages,  and  abounds  in  shrewd  reflections  and  grave 
apothegms,  such  as — 

'Procrastination  is  the  thief  of  time.' 

'All  men  think  all  men  mortal  but  themselves.' 

'Man  wants  but  little,  nor  that  little  long.' 

The  last  was  borrowed  by  Goldsmith  (p  290).  John  Byron 
(1 692-1 763)  was  author  of  the  famous  epigram  — 

'  God  bless  the  King,  I  mean  the  faith's  defender  ; 
God  bless — no  harm  in  blessing— the  Pretender  ; 
But  who  Pretender  is,  and  who  is  King, 
God  bless  us  all  !  — that's  quite  another  thing.' 

John  Dyer  (1699- 1758),  originally  a  painter,  shows  a  keen 
eye  for  landscape  and  natural  beauty  in  Grotigar  Hill.  His 
didactic  poems,  The  Ruins  of  Rome  and  The  Fleece,  are 
almost  forgotten,  though  Wordsworth  and  Gray  had  a  high 
opinion  of  his  genius,  and  the  former  addressed  a  sonnet  to 
him.  Robert  Blaik  (1699-1746)  wrote  The  Grave,  a  poem  of 
the  same  type  as  Young's  Night  Thoughts,  but  shorter  and 
more  vivid,  though  less  ornate.  His  expression,  'visits,  like 
those  of  angels,  short  and  far  between,'  anticipated  Campbell 
(1777-1844)- 


THE   AGE   OF    POPE,   SWIFT,    AND   JOHNSON.  41 

The    most    influential    writer  of  this  early  naturalist  school 

Thomson  WaS     JAMES     THOMSON      (1700-1748).       In  I725 

he  came  to  London,  and  soon  made  his 
reputation,  first  by  his  blank  verse  poem  Winter,  and  after- 
wards by  the  other  parts,  forming  as  a  whole  his  well-known 
Seasons.  The  great  merit  of  this  poem  lies  in  the  clear-cut 
fidelity  to  Nature  of  his  descriptions  of  rural  scenes  with  which 
his  boyhood  spent  in  Roxburghshire  had  made  him  familiar. 
He  modified  and  enlarged  the  poem  from  time  to  time.  He 
produced  several  respectable  tragedies,  and  in  conjunction 
with  his  friend  Mallet  a  masque,  Alfred,  in  which  we  find  the 
well-known  Rule  Britannia.  But  his  best  work  is  The  Castle 
of  Indolence,  an  allegorical  poem  in  the  Spenserian  stanza, 
characterised  by  a  quaint  mixture  of  mirth,  melancholy,  and 
playful  satire,  and  pervaded  by  that  dreamy  music  of  which 
perhaps  the  supreme  example  is  found  in  Tennyson's  Lotus- 
Eaiers.     One  stanza  may  be  quoted  : — 

'  Was  nought  around  but  images  of  rest  : 
Sleep-soothing  groves,  and  quiet  lawns  between   ; 
And  flowery  beds  that  slumbrous  influence  kest, 
From  poppies  breathed  ;  and  beds  of  pleasant  green, 
Where  never  yet  was  creeping  creature  seen. 
Meantime,  unnumbered  glittering  streamlets  played, 
And  hurled  everywhere  their  waters  sheen  ; 
That,  as  they  bickered  through  the  sunny  glade, 
Though  restless  still  themselves,  a  lulling  murmur  made.' 

Of  Thomson's  successors,  Richard  Glover  (1712-1785)  is 
Shenstone ;  Col-  remembered,  for  his  fine  ballad,  Admiral 
Hosier  s  Ghost,  and  for  his  Leonidas,  a  fly 
embalmed  in  the  amber  of  Lamb's  sketch  of  Captain  fackson. 
William  Shknstone  (171 4- 1764),  our  principal  master  of 
the  artificial-natural  style  in  poetry,  is  a  connecting  link 
between  Thomson  and  Goldsmith.  He  wrote  the  graceful 
Pastoral  Ballad,  and  The  Schoolmistress  in  half-playful 
Spenserian  stanzas.  His  praise  of  inns  has  become  almost 
proverbial  :  — 


42  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

4  Whoe'er  has  travelled  life's  dull  round, 
Where'er  his  stages  may  have  been, 

May  sigh  to  think  he  still  has  found 
The  warmest  welcome  at  an  inn.' 
The  career  of  William  Collins  (1721-17^9)  was  cut  short 
by  ill  health  ending  in  insanity;  but  he  left  enough  work  to 
prove  that  he  was  a  poet  of  the  highest  genius.  His  longer 
poems,  the  Persian  Eclogues  and  On  the  Superstitions  of  the 
Highlands,  are  of  unequal  merit,  but  contain  passages  of 
great  beauty.  His  expressive  ode,  The  Passions,  in  which  Fear, 
Anger,  Despair,  etc.,  successively  try  their  skill  on  Music's 
lyre,  is  well-known,  as  are  his  Verses  to  the  Memory  of  Thomson. 
His  Ode  to  Evening  has  a  Grecian  perfection  of  form,  the  more 
marked  for  its  unrhymed  severity  ;  and  it  is  pervaded  by 
something  of  the  haunting  music  and  the  intense  Nature- 
sympathy  of  Tennyson's  similarly  unrhymed  'Tears  idle  tears.' 
As  S.  Brooke  has  well  said,  'the  landscape  and  tne  emotion  of 
Collins  interpenetrate  each  other,  so  that  a  pleasure  made  up 
of  both  blended  into  one  impression  is  given  to  the  reader.' 
The  following  is  the  last  stanza  of  Collins's  lovely  Dirge  for 
Fide  I  e  : — 

'Each  lonely  scene  shall  thee  restore. 

For  thee  the  tear  be  duly  shed  ; 
Beloved  till  life  can  charm  no  more, 

And  mourned  till  Pity's  self  be  dead.' 

Gray's  poetic  career  is  described  elsewhere  (pp.  278-282).  Two 
more  poets  may  be  mentioned  here  :  Charles  Wesley  (1708- 
1788),  the  younger  brother  of  John  Wesley,  the  founder  of 
Methodism,  and  Isaac  Watts  (1674- 1748),  both  of  whom 
wrote  some  of  the  finest  hymns  in  the  language.  Among  the 
latter's  free  versions  of  several  of  the  Psalms  are  poems  of 
the  highest  sublimity. 

Mark    AKENsinE  (I  721-1770)  inaugurates  the  decadence  of 

Poetic  the  poetry  of  this  period.      He  wrote  Pleasures 

decadence.  0j  fne  Imagination,  which  were  Shaftesbury's 

Characteristics    ( 1 7 1 1 )  explained  in  blank  verse.     Christopher 

Smart    (1722-1770),  for    a    time  Fellow  of  Pembroke  College, 


THE   AGE   OF   POPE,   SWIFT,    AND   JOHNSON.  43 

Cambridge,  is  the  author  of  a  satire,  The  Hilliad,  directed 
against  Dr.  Hill,  who  had  severely  criticised  his  poems.  In 
1763  he  had  to  be  placed  in  Bedlam,  where  he  wrote  his 
Sow:  to  David,  containing  magnificent  poetry  obscured  by 
the  incoherences  of  insanity.  We  have  treated  elsewhere 
(pp.  285-289)  of  Goldsmith,  who  as  a  poet  represents  a  reversion 
to  Pope's  style.  Charles  Churchill  (1731-1764)  a  dissipated 
clergyman,  wrote  The  Rosciad,  a  clever  satire  on  actors,  and 
The  Ghost,  an  attack  upon  Johnson  and  his  circle.  Though 
showing  a  kind  of  savage  strength,  he  was  a  degenerate  in  his 
choice  of  poetic  forms. 

The    downward    course  of  English  poetry  was  briefly  inter- 

Percy's'Reiiques';      rupted  by  Thomas  Percy,  Bishop  of  Dromore, 

Warton.  w^0  by  j^  Re\iqUes  0f  English   Poetry  (1765) 

roused  the  interest  of  the  public  to  the  treasures  of  lyric  song 
hidden  in  our  old  ballads  Thomas  Warton  (1728-1790), 
Professor  of  Poetry  at  Oxford,  and  afterwards  poet-laureate, 
did  good  work  in  reviving  the  national  taste  for  our  ancient 
springs  of  song  by  his  Observations  on  Spenser  and  his  History 
of  English  Poetry.  Such  studies  as  these  led  to  William 
Falconkr's  too  technical  Shipwreck  (1762)  ;  and  to  James 
Beattik's  Minstrel  (177 1-4),  written  in  the  Spenserian  stanza. 
William  Micklk's  ballad  of  Cumnor  Hall  inspired  Scott's 
Kemlworth  ( 1 82 1 )  ;  while  to  Michael  Bruce  or  John  Logan 
(probably  in  part  to  both)  belongs  the  honour  of  creating  the 
beautiful  lyric,  To  the  Cuckoo,  of  which  one  stanza  may  be 
quoted  :  — 

'Sweet  bird,  thy  bower  is  ever  green, 

Thy  sky  is  ever  clear  ; 
Thou  hast  no  sorrow  in  thy  song, 
No  winter  in  thy  year  !' 

The    low-water    mark    of    English   poetry    of    this    date  is 
reached    in    Erasmus     Darwin     (1751-1802). 

Darwin  ;     Chat-  \    /  0  / 

terton  ;  Macpner-      Son  of  a  physician    at    Lichfield,    he    reigned 

son  ;,.Fergusson.  '  ° 

supreme   over    a    literary    clique    in    that  city. 
He  was  twice  married.     By  his  first  wife  he  became  the  grand- 


+4-  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

father  of  the  celebrated  Evolutionist,  Charles  Darwin  ( 1 809- 1 88 1 ) 
and  by  his  second  he  became  the  grandfather  of  another 
eminent  scientist,  Francis  Galton.  Darwin  himself  in  two 
prose  treatises  on  biology  and  agriculture  to  some  extent 
anticipated  the  life-work  of  his  greater  grandson  Charles. 
But  he  is  best  known  by  his  Botanic  Garden,  the  heroic 
couplets  of  which  are  even  more  polished  than  Pope's.  The 
second  part  of  that  poem.  The  Loves  of  the  Plants,  is  immor- 
talised by  Canning's  clever  parody,  The  Loves  of  the  Triangles, 
in  the  'Anti-Jacobin'  (1 799-1801).  Thomas  Chatterton 
(1752-1770)  throws  a  meteoric  gleam  on  the  waste  of  this  period. 
His  uncle  was  sexton  of  St.  Mary  Redcliffe,  Bristol,  where  the 
'marvellous  boy'1  studied  and  began  to  imitate  the  mediaeval 
parchments  stored  in  its  muniment-room.  This  enabled  him 
'to  puzzle  the  literary  world  by  the  forged  antiques  of  his 
Rowley  Poems,  full  of  fUshes  of  immature  genius.  Half- 
starved  and  despairing,  he  poisoned  himself  in  his  solitary 
attic.  Less  interest  attaches  to  the  more  enduring  puzzle  of 
the  Ossian  of  James  Macphkrson,  a  Highland  schoolmaster 
(1 738  1796).  Scotland,  however,  during  this  time  (1740-1774). 
through  the  successors  of  Allan  Ramsay  and  the  precursors  of 
Burns,  especially  the  ill-starred  Robert  Fergusson  (1  750- 1  774), 
was  giving  to  the  world  the  almost  Chaucerian  Helenore,  and 
many  lyrics  as  immortal  as  those  of  Burns  ;  such  as  Tullochoorum, 
Ca'  the  Yozves,  Auld  Robin  Gray,  And  are  ye  sure  the  news  is 
true}  and  Hallow-Fair.  But,  save  for  these  half-foreign 
exceptions,  English  poetry  died  of  its  own  artificiality  before 
the  Romantic  School  of  Cowper,  Crabbe,  Wordsworth,  and 
Coleridge  had  begun  to  emerge. 

The    drama   almost    collapsed    under    Collier's    savage  but 

well-deserved     onslaught.       Nicholas     Rowe 

(1673-1718)    adapted     The  Fair  Penitent  from 

Massinger    (p,  21)  and  wrote  Jane  Shore  (1714).     John  Home 

(1724-18:8)  wrote  the  tragedy  of  Douglas,  with  its    well-known 

lines    '.My    name    is    Norval    etc.,'  for  which  harmless  dramatic 


I   Wordsworth,  Resolution  and  Independence,  43. 


THE   AGE   OF    POPE,    SWIFT,   AND   JOHNSON.  45 

indiscretion  the  Scotch    presbytery    practically    compelled    him, 
to    resign    his  benefice.     Samuel  Foote  (1720-1777),  an  actor- 
playwrigtit,  was  little  better  than  a  'merry-andrevv'  of  the    stage. 
But   David  Garrick  (1716-1779),  besides  being  the  greatest  of 
actors,  wrote    some    excellent    plays,    as    Miss    in    her    Teens  ; 
collaborated    with    George    Colman    the    elder  (1730-1794)  in 
The    Clandestine    Marriage    (almost    superior    to    Goldsmith); 
and    put    on    the    stage    The    Suspicious      Husband   (1774)    of 
Benjamin  Hoadly  (son  of  Bishop   Hoadly),    and    the    amusing 
Hkh  Life  beloiv  Stairs  (1759)    of    the    Rev.    James    Townley. 
Hugh      Kelly      (1739- '777)     wrote     sentimental      comedies. 
Charles    Macklin    <  1690-1797),  an  actor- playwright,  produced 
The  Man    of  the     World,   with  the    famous    character    of   'Sir 
Pertinax  MacSycophant.'   But  the  crowning  glory  of  this  decade 
is  the  artificial  comedy  of  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan    (1752- 
i3t6),   politician  and  dramatist,  whose  plays,  The  Rivals  (1775) 
and  The  School  for  Scandal  (1777)  attract  ;  crowded    audiences 
to-day  ;    while    his    Critic    is    perhaps    more  brilliant  than  The 
Rehearsal,  which    it    half    imitates,    half    parodies.     Mr.   Puff's 
'Lord     Burleigh's    nod'    from    this    extravaganza    has    become 
proverbial.     Three    other   comedies    of    this  decade  have  con- 
siderable merit :  Richard  Cumberland's  West  Indian    (1771); 
Arthur  Murphy's    Three    Weeks    after    Marriage  (1776)  ;  and 
Mrs.     Cowley's     The     Belle's    Stratagem     (1700;     reproduced  1 

1874). 

Two    writers    who    had    considerable    influence  upon  Pope 
Prose  writers  :         may  be    mentioned    before    passing    to    Swift. 

Swift.  Anthony   Ashley  Cooper,    (1671-1713),  third 

Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  published  in  171 1  his  Characteristics  of 
Men,  Manners,  Opinions,  and  Times,  in  three  volumes ;  the 
first  two  being  reprints  of  his  earlier  works.  Gosse  describes 
him  as  a  sort  of  Ruskin  of  the  Augustan  age.  But  for  him 
Pope's  Essay  on  Man  would  probably  not  have  been  written  ; 
though  the  philosophy  of  that  poem  was  drawn  from  the 
writings  of  Henry  St.  John  (1628-1751),  Viscount  Boling- 
broke,  whose  Patriot  King  so  greatly  influenced  George  III. 
Jonathan  Swift  (1667-1745)  was  as  great  a  power  among   the 


46  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

prose-writers  of  his  time  as  Dr.  Johnson  became  later  on.  He 
was  born  and  brought  up  in  poverty  ;  and  was  too  reckless  to 
profit  much  by  his  stay  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  Being 
related  to  Sir  William  Temple  (p.  36),  Swift  succeeded  in 
obtaining  employment,  after  the  Revolution  of  1688,  as  his 
amanuensis  ;  but  the  servitude  proved  most  irksome,  and  twice 
he  threw  up  his  post,  and  twice  returned.  In  the  end  the  two 
came  to  a  belter  understanding,  and  Swift  remained  with  his 
patron  from  1696  till  the  latter's  death  in  1699.  During  this 
lime  he  began  his  career  as  an  original  author  with  The  Tale  of 
a  Tub,  an  allegorical  satire  in  which  Roman  Catholicism,  the 
Church  of  England,  and  Nonconformity  are  respectively 
personified  and  satirised  as  'Peter,'  'Martin,'  and  'Jack,'  This 
satire  shows  Swift's  characteristic  style  at  its  best;  but  its 
irreverence  and  occasional  foulness  hopelessly  damaged  his 
prospects  of  clerical  promotion.  He  had  before  this  written 
some  worthless  'Pindarique'  odes,  and  afterwards  occasionally 
wrote  verses,  some  of  them  not  without  merit ;  but  it  was  in 
ironical  satire  that  his  strength  lay.  In  his  Battle  of  the  Rooks 
he  took  the  side  of  Temple  against  Bentley  (p.  36).  From 
1708  he  became  a  political  and  religious  pamphleteer  ;  and 
under  the  pseudonym  of  'Isaac  Bickerstaff'  with  the  help  of 
Steele,  Congreve,  and  Prior,  amused  himself  by  mercilessly 
ridiculing  an  astrologer  named  Partridge.  This  led  sub- 
sequently to  the  production  of  the  Taller.  In  politics  he  first 
sided  with  the  Whigs ;  but,  disappointed  in  them,  he  went 
over  to  the  Tories,  and  became  a  person  of  considerable  impor- 
tance. In  1713  he  was  made  Dean  of  St  Patrick's,  Dublin.  But 
the  death  of  Queen  Anne  ruined  his  political  hopes.  Thence- 
forward he  identified  himself  with  Irish  political  interests,  and 
caused  serious  trouble  to  the  Government  by  the  white-hot 
fury  of  his  Drapier  Letters  against  Walpole's  proposal  to  com- 
pel the  Irish  to  accept  the  copper  coinage,  a  patent  for  which 
had  been  given  to  one  William  Wood.  Swift  in  consequence 
became  the  national  idol.  Soon  afterwards  he  joined  with 
Pope  and  Arbuthnot  to  form  the  'Martinus  Scriblerus  Club,' 
which    was    to    be    the    terror   of  literary  dunces.     Swift's  own 


THE   AGE   OF   POPE,   SWIFT,    AND   JOHNSON.  47 

share  in  this  venture  took  the  shape  of  his  celebrated  Gulliver's 
Travels.  The  savagely  cynical  closing  section  of  that  book, 
'the  Voyage  to  the  Houyhnhms'  in  which  horses  are  masters 
and  men  are  represented  as  bestial  Yahoos,  was  probably 
written  after  his  brain  had  begun  to  give  way  through  the  shock 
of  Stella's  fatal  illness.  An  impenetrable  mystery  hangs  over 
his  relations  with  two  women,  'Stella'  (Esther  Johnson,  whom 
he  had  known  at  Sir  William  Temple's  house),  and  'Vanessa' 
(Esther  Vanhomrigh,  whom  he  had  met  in  London).  He  is 
said  to  have  been  secretly  married  to  the  former  ;  he  certainly 
was  on  terms  of  endeared  intimacy  with  her  throughout  the  three 
years  of  his  'Journal  to  Stella.'  A  strange  brain-disease, 
which  began  in  1689,  tormented  him  more  or  less  until  his 
final  insanity  and  death. 

Swift's  immediate  successors  were  two.     Dr.  John  Arbuth- 

Swift's  NOT  (1667-1735)  a  poor  Scotchman,   settled    in 

successors.  London  and  rose    to    be    Physician    Extraordi- 

nary to  Queen  Anne.  After  1711  he  came  under  Swift's  influ- 
ence, and  developed  a  positive  genius  for  pamphleteering, 
his  greatest  success  being  The  History  of  John  Bull.  He 
was  a  leading  member  of  the  Scriblerus  Club,  and  was  the 
chief  contributor  to  the  Memoirs  of  Marlinus  Scriblerus. 
Bernard  De  Mandeville  (1670-1733),  a  young  physician 
from  Holland,  settled  in  London  and  published  in  eight- 
syllable  verse  The  Grumbling  Hive,  which  he  afterwards  en- 
larged with  prose  explanations  into  The  Fable  of  the  Bees. 
He  was  a  vulgar  and  vicious  satirist;  Shaftesbury  (1671-1713, 
author  of  Characteristics)  was  his  special  aversion. 

Richard  Steele  (1672-1729),  born  in  Dublin,  was  a  school- 
steeie  and  fellow  of  Addison's  at  the  Charterhouse  ;  after 

Addison.  a  sjlort  career  at  Oxford,   he  became  a  trooper 

in  the  Life  Guards  ;  his  first  poem,  an  elegy  on  Queen  Mary, 
brought  him  a  captain's  commission.  To  check  his  own  gay  ten- 
dencies he  wrote  his  Christian  Hero,  which  made  him  un- 
popular with  his  military  mess-mates.  To  mend  matters  he  pro- 
duced a  successful  comedy,  The  Funeral  (1702);  two  other 
comedies  were  'damned  for  their  piety.'  His  four  comedies  have 


48  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

no  great  merit  except  their  propriety.  Steele  was  one  of  the 
earliest  members  of  the  Kit-Cat  Club,  a  Whig  Club,  so  called 
from  Christopher  Cat,  a  noted  mutton  pieman,  at  whose 
tavern  they  met.  Jacob  Tonson,  Dryden's  publisher,  had 
helped  to  found  it.  From  1707  Steele  became  regularly 
associated  with  Addison,  and  both  were  much  influenced  by 
the  genius  of  Swift.  The  story  of  The  Taller  and  The  Specta- 
tor is  told  elsewhere  (p.  257).  Addison  and  Steele  between 
them  wrought  almost  a  moral  miracle.  They  reversed  the  evil 
work  of  the  Restoration  comedy,  and  made  morality  and 
decency  as  essential  to  the  character  of  a  gentleman  as  before 
they  had  been  held  inconsistent  with  it. 

Some  theological  writers,  personally  associated  with  Addi- 
son, Steele,  and  Swift,  may  be  referred  to  here. 
Dr.  Samuel  Clarke  (1675- 1729),  a  Low 
Church  divine,  and  an  advocate  of  Newton's  novel  ideas, 
published  the  Boyle  lectures  (p.  37)  in  1704  and  1705,  on  the 
nature  of  God  and  the  evidences  of  religion.  He  was  however 
severely  censured  for  his  supposed  unorthodoxy.  Dr.  Benjamin 
Hoadly  (1676-1761)  in  spite  of  being  more  heterodox  and 
unpopular  than  Clarke,  whose  writings  he  edited,  was  early 
made  Bishop  of  Bangor,  and  was  raised  in  succession  to  the 
sees  of  Hereford,  Salisbury,  and  Winchester.  One  of  his 
sermons  started  the  stormy  'Bangorian  Controversy'.  But  the 
most  eminent  both  in  philosophy  and  literature  was  George 
Berkeley  (16S5-1753),  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  afterwards 
Dean  of  Derry  and  Bishop  of  Cloyne.  He  began  as  a  disciple 
of  Locke  and  a  Platonist.  but  gradually  developed  his  own 
philosophv  of  the  non-existence  of  matter,  which  he  believed 
to  be  an  irrefragable  argument  against  the  deists  and  the 
atheists.  He  was  an  energetic  social  and  educational  reformer  ; 
but  his  plan  of  founding  an  ideal  University  in  the  Bermudas 
was  foiled  by  Walpole.  He  wrote  A  New  Theory  of  Vision  ; 
a  volume  of  Platonic  dialogues,  Hylas  and  Phi/onous  ;  Alciph- 
ron,  an  attack  on  materialistic  atheists,  the  'minute  philoso- 
phers' ;  finally  his  extraordinary  Stris,  a  mixture  of  Platonic 
deals   and    the    praises    of  his    universal    medicine,    tar-water- 


THE   AGE   OF   POPE,   SWIFT,   AND   JOHNSON.  49 

Gosse  affirms  his  style  to  be  'distinguished  as  well  for  dignity 
and  fulness  of  phrase,  without  pomposity,  as  for  splendour  and 
delicacy  of  diction,  without  effeminacy.'  William  Law  (1686- 
1  761),  an  ascetic  High  Church  divine,  wrote  the  Serious  Call 
to  a  Devout  and  Holy  Life,  which  greatly  influenced  John 
Wesley.  He  has  a  considerable  command  of  style,  and  his 
typical  characters  are  sketched  in  a  way  that  is  both  witty  and 
convincing. 

In  modern  life  the  novel  has    usurped    the    place    which  in 
Origin  of  the  tne  Elizabethan  age  was   held    by  the    drama, 

novel :  Defoe.  jts  cheapness  and  accessibility    have    made    it 

the  vehicle  of  popular  amusement,  and  the  readiest  instrument 
for  moral  satire  or  for  any  startling  social  or  religious  propa- 
ganda. The  first  origin  of  the  novel  is  to  be  traced  back  to 
Daniel  Defoe  (1661-1731),  a  Nonconformist  pamphleteer, 
who  gained  the  favour  of  William  III  by  his  satire  on  the 
popular  dislike  of  Dutchmen,  The  True-born  Englishman.  In 
1702  he  published  The  Shortest  "Way  with  the  Dissenters, 
recommending  their  removal  by  banishment  or  death  with  such 
realistic  irony  that  for  a  time  it  was  believed  to  be  a  genuine 
Anglican  Tory  manifesto.  For  this  hoax  Defoe  was  put  in  the 
pillory  and  imprisoned.  After  his  release  he  became  a 
Government  spy  and  secret  agent.  He  used  his  genius  largely 
as  a  means  of  gulling  and  mystifying  the  world.  His  great 
novel,  Robinson  Crusoe,  his  second  best,  Roxana,  and  The 
Memoirs  of  a  Cavalier  were  palmed  off  as  genuine  histories. 
A  remarkable  skill  in  the  delineation  of  minute,  lifelike  detail 
was  his  main  characteristic  as  a  writer.  But  he  had  no  historic 
sense,  and  completely  failed  to  realise  any  other  surroundings 
than  those  of  his  own  time.  Other  works  of  his  are  Captain 
Singleton  (a  tale  of  priacj),  Colonel  Jack,  and  The  Plague  Year, 

The  romances  of  Defoe  are  simply  romances    of    incident ; 
those    of     Swift  are    veiled    satires ;    Robert 
Richardson.  PALtock's  (1697-1767),  story  of  Peter  Wilkins, 

a  shipwrecked  sailor  who  discovers  a  world  inhabited  by  flying 
men  and  women,  is  a  highly  fanciful  compound  of  Swift  and 
Defoe.  Only  in  one  of  Aphra  Behn's  (1 640-1689)  novels  do  we 

4 


50  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

find  any  emotional  character-drawing,  which  is  the  foundation- 
work  of  the  novels  of  today.  Matter  of  this  kind  begins  with 
Samuel  Richardson  (1689-1761)  of  Derbyshire,  who  in  his 
boyhood  was  a  confidential  writer  of  love-letters  for  the  girls  of 
his  neighbourhood.  From  a  compositor  and  printer  he  became 
Master  of  the  Stationer's  Company.  A  publishing  firm  asked 
him  to  draw  up  a  Letter-writer  for  the  guidance  of  illiterate 
persons.  This  soon  developed  into  Pamela  (1739),  the  story 
(told  in  consecutive  letters)  of  a  virtuous  maidservant  who  con- 
verts her  libertine  master  to  morality  and  marriage.  This  novel 
had  an  amazing  success.  In  1748  he  published  Clarissa,  the 
story  of  a  virtuous  lady  who  comes  to  a  tragic  end  through  the 
gentleman-villain  Lovelace.  This  story  set  all  England  and 
half  France  weeping.  'Clarissa'  is  commonly  allowed  to  be  the 
most  lifelike  of  all  literary  heroines.  Finally  in  1754  Richard- 
son published  his  portrait  of  the  ideal  gentleman,  Sir  Charles 
Grandison,  sketched  in  a  series  of  letters,  with  a  more 
elaborated  story,  but  a  very  unconvincing  hero.  This  was 
his  last  novel. 

Henry  Fielding  (1707-1754)    is    by  many    held    to    be   the 
greatest   of  English    novelists.       Educated    at 

Fielding.  _-,  ,  _         ,  . 

Jiton  and  Leyden,  he  came  to  London  in  his 
twenty-second  year  ;  wrote  for  the  stage  ;  practised  law ;  and 
then,  disgusted  with  the  obvious  faults  of  the  recently  published 
Pamela,  he  began  to  burlesque  it  ;  but  soon  turned  his 
burlesque  into  an  original  story,  Joseph  Attdreivs  (1742).  His 
next  novel  was  the  gloomy  satire  of  Jo?iathan  Wild  (1743), 
the  life-story  of  a  rascal  who  is  hanged  at  Newgate.  His 
sister  Sarah  published  in  1742  her  only  work,  David  Simple, 
a  novel  of  considerable  merit.  In  1749  Fielding  produced  his 
greatest  novel,  Tom  Jones,  a  breezy,  wholesome  story,  not 
over-refined,  nor  very  strictly  moral.  There  is  less  exuberance 
of  animal  spirits  in  his  Amelia  ( 175 1),  but  more  refinement. 
He  had  not  so  much  skill  in  plot-constructiou  as  Richardson, 
nor  so  much  insight  into  the  character  of  women  ;  but  his  know- 
ledge of  men  is  much  more  extensive,  and  his  grasp  of  the 
elementary  passions  of  humanity  far  more  varied   and   forceful. 


THE    AGE    OF   POPE,   SWIFT,    AND   JOHNSON.  51 

Tobias    George     Smollett     (1721-1771),      educated     in 
Dumbartonshire,     was      left     an     orphan     at 

Smollett.  .  e  ..     ,     .        ,  .       -. 

nineteen ;  railed  in  his  first  attempts  as  a 
dramatist  in  London  ;  became  surgeon's  mate  on  a  man-of-war  ; 
married  in  Jamaica;  then  returned  to  London,  and  in  1748 
published  his  Adventures  of  Roderick  Random,  largely  autobio- 
graphical, and  full  of  vivid  sketches  of  seafaring  life.  His  next 
novel,  The  Adventures  of  Peregrine  Pickle  (175 1),  is  more 
unequal,  but  has  finer  passages  than  its  predecessor ;  in  both 
the  hero  is  repulsive.  His  next,  Count  Fathom,  was  a  failure. 
Translation-work,  satires,  an  imprisonment  for  libel,  and  the 
writing  of  a  History  of  England  filled  up  his  time  till  his  health 
gave  way  and  his  doctors  sent  him  abroad.  But  the  flame  of 
of  his  genius  burned  up  clear  at  the  end  in  what  is  on  the 
whole  his  best  novel,  Humphrey  Clinker  (1771) — best  because 
in  it  for  the  first  time  he  rises  above  coarse,  satrical  caricature 
to  the  power  of  appreciating  normal  human  nature.  Smollett  is 
said  to  have  inspired  Dickens,  as  Fielding  did  Thackeray. 

Laurence  Sterne  (17 13- 1768),  a  country  parson,  when  he 
was  forty-six  years  of  age  became  famous  by  publishing  the 
first  two  volumes  of  The  Life  and  Opinions  of  Tristram  Shandy 
Gent.  (1760).  Ill  health  compelled  him  to  travel  to  the  South 
of  Europe  ;  and  Tristram  Shandy  was  continued  in  successive 
volumes  from  time  to  time,  until  it  was  closed  with  the  ninth 
volume  in  1767.  His  Sentimental  Journey  through  France 
and  Italy,  by  Mr.  Yorick,  appeared  in  1768.  Dowden  des- 
cribes Sterne  as  a  modern  ultra-self-conscious  'Jaques' :  he 
would  have  been  more  wholesome  if  there  had  been  a  Touch- 
stone to  save  him  from  his  prurient,  skin-deep  sentimentalism. 
But  'Uncle  Toby',  'Corporal  Trim',  and  the  'Widow  Wadman' 
are  among  the  immortals.  An  imitator  of  Smollett's  was 
Charles  Johnstons,  with  his  pessimistic  Chrysal,  or  the 
Adventures  of  a  Guinea  (1760).  Johnson's  Rasselas  came 
out  in  1759,  and  Horace  Walpole  started  the  fashion 
of  mediaeval  romance  in  1764  with  the  Castle  of  Otranto. 
Henry  Brooke's  Fool  of  Quality  and  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield 
(p.  286)  appeared    in    1766,    and    Henry  Mackenzie  followed 


52  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Sterne  in  his  Man  of  Feeling  (1771).  With  the  exception  of 
Evelina  (1778)  by  Fanny  Burney  (Madame  D'Arblay),  novel- 
writing  henceforward  died  out  till  a  new  era  was  inaugurated 
by  Jane  Austen  and  Sir  Waller  Scott. 

Joseph  Butler  (1692-1752),  educated  as  a  Nonconformist, 

corresponded  with  Clarke  (p.  48),  who  thought 
JB£2X?&S2l      so  highly  of    him  that   he    published    Butler's 

letters  along  with  his  own.  Soon  afterwards 
Butler  became  an  Anglican,  went  to  Oriel  College,  Oxford,  and 
was  appointed  Preacher  at  the  Rolls  Chapel.  Some  of  the 
Sermons  there  delivered,  published  in  1726,  have  become  a 
philosophico-theological  text-book  for  Cambridge  undergra- 
duates. The  same  fate  has  befallen  his  great  work.  The 
Analogy  of  Religion  Natural  and  Revealed  to  the-  Constitution 
and  Course  of  Nature  (1736).  This  book  led  to  his  elevation  to 
the  episcopate,  first  at  Bristol,  and  finally  at  Durham.  He  is 
the  chief  glory  of  the  Church  of  England;  'the  mcst  patient, 
original,  and  candid  of  philosophical  writers'.  Gosse  says  of 
his  style  that  it  is  unequal,  but  always  studiously  unadorned  ; 
and  that  'at  his  driest,  he  is  seldom  quite  so  wooden  as 
Locke.  His  method  in  argument  has  been  ingeniously 
compared  to  that  of  a  chess-player'. 

The  Scotch  metaphysician,  Francis  Hutcheson  (1 691-1746) 

in  his  System  of  Moral  Philosophy  is  a  link 
Hutcheson  to  between  Shaftesbury  and   Adam  Smith    (-723- 

Warburton.  ** 

1790  author  of  'The  Wealth  of  Nations,' 
1776)  ;  Conyers  Middleton  (1683-1750),  Librarian  of  Cam- 
bridge University,  and  author  of  an  eloquent  Lije  of  Cicero 
(1741),  paved  the  way  for  Hume's  scepticism  by  his  Free 
Inquiry  into  Miraculous  Powers  (1747)-  Thomas  \mory 
(1691-1788),  an  ardent  Unitarian,  published  an  eccentric 
romance,  The  Lift  of  John  Ruvcle,  Esq.  (1756-66),  who  is 
represented  as  marrying  seven  wives  in  succession,  all 
Unitarians,  diaries  Lamb  ( Essay  on  Imperfect  Sympathies) 
calls  it  a  'healthy  book.'  It  is  a  storehouse  of  miscellaneous 
information,  quaint  and  witty.  William  Oldys  (1696-176 1 ), 
the   antiquarian,   wrote    valuable    biographies,   and    edited  the 


THE   AGE   OF    POPE,   SWIFT,   AND   JOHNSON.  53 

Harleian  Miscellany.  Philip  Dormer  Stanhope  (1694-1773), 
fourth  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  is  remembered  for  his  Letters  on 
polite  behaviour,  addressed  to  his  natural  son  ;  and  still  more 
for  Johnson's  savage  criticism  of  the  book,  and  for  his  scathing 
rejection  of  that  nobleman's  belated  patronage  (p.  275).  William 
WarburtoiN  (1698-1 779),  Bishop  of  Gloucester,  is  famous 
for  his  Divine  Legation  of  Moses  (1738-1741),  and  for  his 
bullying  assumption  of  literary  dictatorship.  What  he  pretended 
to  be,  Dr.  Johnson  actually  became. 

Among  philosophers  it  is  enough  here  to  name  David 
Hartley  (1705-1757),  the  founder  of  asso- 
ciational  psychology  ;  and  Thomas  Reid 
(1710-17961,  whose  philosophy  combines  the  views  of  Clarke 
and  Shaftesbury.  But  incomparably  greater  was  David  Hume 
(1711-1776)  in  his  threefold  eminence  as  philosopher,  essayist, 
and  historian.  He  was  born  in  Edinburgh,  and  after  making 
himself  known  by  successful  Essays  (174 1-2)  and  books  on 
religion,  morals  and  politics,  he  was  appointed  Advocates' 
Librarian,  and  settled  at  Edinburgh  to  write  his  History  of 
Great  Britain  (1754-1762),  interesting  in  style,  but  inexact, 
and  deformed  by  his  slavish  reverence  for  royal  authority. 
His  Natural  History  of  Religion  appeared  in  1757.  When 
the  History  was  completed,  he  went  to  reside  in  France  as 
secretary  to  the  Embassy  in  Paris ;  returned  to  England  as 
Under-Secretary  of  State  till  1769;  and  lived  the  rest  of  his 
life  at  Edinburgh.  His  style  is  clear,  but  rather  monotonous, 
and  his  cold,  critical  attitude  has  naturally  made  him  unpopular. 
His  Essay  on  Miracles  is  known  only  through  Paley's  refuta- 
tion of  its  main  thasis.  The  Scotch  rhetorician  Dr.  Hugh 
Blair  (1718-1800),  with  his  discourses  on  literature  and  his 
Sermons,  is  noteworthy  only  for  the  extraordinary  but  undeserv- 
ed popularity  that  they  gained. 

The  Rkv.  Gilbert  White    (1720-1793)    of    Oriel   College, 
Oxford,  became  curate  of    his  native  parish  of 

White  ;  Robert-  _,    ,,  TT  ,  .  ,     ,  ,  .  .         .      . 

son  ;  Adam  Selborne  in  Hampshire,  and  devoted  his  whole 

life  to  its  interests.     In    1789  he  published  his 

Natural  History  of  Selborne,   and    followed    it    later  with   the 


54  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Antiquities  of  Selborne.  The  first  book  is  full  of  interest,  and 
will  always  remain  a  charming  classic  both  for  men  of  science 
and  for  lovers  of  literature.  William  Robertson  (1721-17Q3), 
a  Scotch  clergyman,  made  his  name  in  1758  by  his  History  of 
Scotland.  In  1769  he  produced  the  Reign  of  Charles  V,  the 
opening  chapters  of  which  inspired  Carlyle  with  a  passion  for 
history.  Robertson  closely  resembles  Hume  in  style  and 
method,  but  is  superior  in  historic  grasp.  Adam  Smith  (1723- 
1790)  of  Kirkcaldy,  educated  at  Balliol  College,  Oxford,  was 
appointed  to  the  Chair  of  Logic,  and  subsequently  to  that  of 
Moral  Philosophy  at  Glasgow,  and  as  the  outcome  of  his 
lectures  there  produced  a  popular  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments 
(1759).  Resigning  this  post  in  1764.  he  retired  in  1766  to 
Kirkcaldy,  and  ten  years  later  published  his  immortal  classic. 
An  Enquiry  into  the  Nature  and  Causes  of  the  Wealth  of 
Nations,  a  book  which  laid  the  foundation  of  Political  Eco- 
nomy. As  L.  Stephen  says,  'He  was  the  first  writer  who 
succeeded  in  so  presenting  the  doctrine  of  Free  Trade  as  to 
convince  statesmen  in  its  favour.' 

Sir  William   Blackstone    (1 723-1780),    a    great    lawyer, 

Biackstone;  gave  up  poetry  for  the  bar,  and  in  his  volumin- 

Reynoids.  Qus  Commentaries   on    the    Laws   of  England 

(1763-69)  succeeded  in  investing  the  driest  of  subjects  with  the 
charm  of  literary  style.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  (1 723-1 792), 
first  President  of  the  Royal  Academy,  delivered  in  his  official 
capacity  annual  and  biennial  Discourses  on  art  subjects,  which 
were  collected  and  published  after  his  death.  They  are  still 
valued  by  the  profession,  and  have  high  literary  merit,  as  was 
natural  in  the  case  of  one  who  was  so  closely  associated  with 
Johnson,  Goldsmith,  and  Burke.  Goldsmith's  influence  on  our 
prose  literature  is  discussed  later  (p.  286-289). 

Edward  Gibbon  (1  737-1794)  came  of  a   good    family,    and 
Gibbon ; 'Letters      had    sufficient    means    to  enable  him  with  few 

of  Junius.'  interruptions  to  devote  himself  to  his  great  life 

work.  He  learned  little  at  Oxford;  but  having  become  a 
Roman  Catholic,  he  was  sent  to  a  Swiss  pastor  at  Lausanne,  by 
whom  he  was  reconverted  to  Protestantism,  and   imbued  with  a 


THE   AGE   OF   POPE,   SWIFr,   AND   JOHNSON.  55 

aeal    for    classical  learning.     In  1758  he   returned  to  England, 
joined  the  militia  and  threw  himself  into  his  military   duties  as 
Captain    of   the    Hampshire    Grenadiers  with   an     enthusiasm 
which  afterwards  bore  good  fruit   in    the   military   descriptions 
involved  in  his  historical  work.     He  returned  to  the   Continent 
.  in    1763,  journeyed    through    France  and  Switzerland  to  Italy, 
and  while  at  Rome,  musing  amid  the  ruins  of   the    Capitol,    he 
first   conceived  the  idea  of  writing  The  Decline  and  Fall  of  the 
Roman  Empire.     He  began  it  in  London  in  1772  and    finished 
it  at  Lausanne  in  1787.     Freeman  says  of  him  that  'he  remains 
the    one    historian    of   the    eighteenth    century   whom  modern 
research    has    neither    set   aside  nor   threatened    to  set  aside.' 
Bagehot  declares  that  'there  is  no  more  solid  book  in  the  world 
than  Gibbon's  history.     Laws,  dynasties,  churches,    barbarians, 
appear  and  disappear.     All  through  the  long  period  his  history 
goes   on    with    steady    consistent   pace,    like    a  Roman  legion 
through   a  troubled  country.'     The  only  blot  in  the  book  is  the 
contemptuous  tone  which  disfigures  the  closing  chapters  of  the 
first   volume,   towards    ecclesiastical   Christianity,  if  not  indeed 
Christianity  itself.     The  majestic  march  of  the  style  is  admira- 
ably  suited  to  the  grandeur  and  magnificence  of  the  whole  con- 
ception.    The  History  may  be  roughly  divided  into  three  parts: 
(1)    The    picture    of    the   Roman  Empire  •,  (2)  The  narrative  of 
the    barbarian   incursions ;    (3)    The    story    of  Constantinople. 
Jamks  Boswkll  (1740-1795)  was  the  first  writer  who  created  the 
model  of  modern  biography,  and  his  Life  of  Samuel  Johnson  is 
by  universal  consent  admitted  to  be  a   masterpiece   in    its   own 
department   of   literature.     Edmund  Burke    is   treated  of  else- 
where (pp.  291-301)-  In  connexion  with  him  may  incidentally  be 
noted  the    undiscovered    personality  who  wrote  (1768-1772)  in 
Woodfall's   Public  Advertiser  those    masterpieces   of  invective 
entitled  The  Letters  of  Junius.     The  secret  of  this  pseudonym 
was  safely  kept,  though    Woodfall    was   severely   punished   for 
publishing  the  Letters,  and  to  this  day  no  one  knows  for  certain 
who  their  author  was.     Macaulay  has  made  it  highly    probable 
that  he    was    Sir    Philip    Francis    (1740-18 18),    at   that    time 
First  Clerk  in  the  War  Office. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  AGE  OF  WORDSWORTH,  BYRON,  AND  SCOTT. 

(1785-1835). 

Among  the  external  forces  which  moulded  the  literature  of 
The  Romantic  this  period  the  most  remarkable  was  the  great 
crisis  of  the  French  Revolution.  That  crisis 
however  was  only  a  conspicuous  illustration  of  a  widespread 
movement  which  had  long  influenced  European  life  and 
literature.  The  Renaissance  of  Romantic  poetry  in  England 
was  the  inevitable  return  to  nature  of  the  healthy  instincts  of 
the  people  as  opposed  to  the  fashionable  artificialities  of  a 
ruling  class.  Thomson  and  Gray  began  what  Cowper  con- 
tinued ;  and  although  Wordsworth,  the  great  apostle  of  the 
new  movement,  was  roused  to  his  life-work  by  the  trumpet- 
call  of  a  newborn  France,  the  abiding  inspiration  of  his  song 
was  the  simple  dignity  of  the  Cumbrian  dalesman— prim- 
itive man  face  to  face  with  the  solitudes  of  Nature.  Indeed 
Pope  himself  pronounced  the  condemnation  of  his  own  school 
when  he  penned  his  protest  against.  'The  enormous  faith  of 
many  made  for  one1.  And  Professor  Raleigh  has  recently 
pointed  to  the  latent  influence  of  Romance  even  in  the  leaders 
of  the  Classic  school,  Addison  and  Pope  having  both  openly 
avowed  their  liking  for  Milton  and  Spenser,  'warmed  with  poetic 
rage.'  Both  Dyer  (p.  40)  and  Thomson  (p.  41)  carried  poetry 
out  of  the  metropolis,  where  Pope  and  Prior  had  housed  it,  into 
the  quiet  country-side.  In  Dyer  there  is  a  simpler,  less  mytholo- 
gical Miltonian  spirit  that  finds  its  happiest  moments  when  it 
is  able  'in  the  open  fields  to  stray'  ;  Thomson  in  his  Castle  of 
Indolence  gives  utterance  to  one  of  the  most  Romantic  lines 
in  English  poetry,  where  he  describes  the  lonely  Hebrid 
shepherd,  'placed  amid  the  melancholy  main',  who  from 
strange,  distant  sounds  peoples  the    air    with    vague    memories 


1  Essay  on  Man  Ep.  III.  242. 


THE    AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH,    BYRON,    AND   SCOTT.         57 

and  visions  of  supernatural  powers  ;  this  proneness  to  find  a 
divinity  in  sound  being  typical  of  the  Romantic  spirit.  The 
French  Revolution  did  no  doubt  largely  inspire  Byron  and 
Shelley  ;  but  its  chief  effect  was  their  withdrawal  from  the 
main  currents  of  English  thought.  On  Keats  it  had  little 
influence  ;  and  Keats  is  the  spiritual  father  of  the  modern  poets 
from  Tennyson  to  Swinburne.  This  leads  us  to  the  differences 
between  the  Classical  and  Romantic  schools  of  poetry  which 
have  been  finely  summarised  by  Herford  :  'Classicism  opposes 
to  the  arbitrariness  of  fancy  a  pervading  rationality  ;  to  the 
mysterious  the  intelligible  ;  to  the  unpruned  variety  of 
nature  the  limitations  of  an  eclectic  art  ;  to  passion  glorified 
and  dwelt  on,  passion  restrained  and  somewhat  disparaged. 
Romanticism,  on  the  other  hand,  makes  prominent  the  qualities 
conspicuous  in  the  youth  of  a  nation ;  bright  aimless  fancy, 
awe  of  the  unknown,  eager  uncritical  delight  in  the  abundance 
of  nature  ;  impetuous  joy  and  sorrow,  breaking  forth  into 
such  free  and  instant  tears  and  smiles  as  the  Argonauts 
uttered  or  the  comrades  of  Odysseus.'  The  method  of  Class- 
icism was  ordered,  harmonious,  restrained,  cold  and  clear; 
Romanticism  aimed  at  variety  and  contrast,  and  gave  free  play 
to  the  imaginative  faculties. 

Four  poets  mark  the  dawn  of  the  Romantic  Renaissance — 
Oabbe;  Biake;      Cowper,  Crabbe,  Blake,  and  Burns.     Cowper's 

Burns-  relation  to  the  movement  is  separately  describ- 

ed (pp. 308-310).  George  Crabbe  (i 754-1832)  published  The 
Library,  aided  by  Burke's  judicious  patronage  ;  The  Village; 
The  Newspaper;  and  then  after  an  interval  The  Parish  Re- 
gister ;  and  finally  his  best  work,  The  Borvu^h.  The  early 
part  of  his  life  was  a  struggle  with  poverty,  and  his 
most  convincing  theme  is  always  the  grim,  sordid  reality  of 
that  tragic  struggle.  In  its  form  his  verse  tends  to  the  freer 
heroic  decasyllable  of  Dryden  rather  than  that  of  Pope.  But 
though  his  range  is  limited,  he  always  draws  his  inspiration 
from  direct  contact  with  Nature  and  with  fact.  He  paints 
Nature  with  loving  minuteness  of  observation  and  brings  us 
face   to   face    with    humble    life    with  all  the  blunt  realism  of  a 


58  A   HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Zola.     An  example  of  this  sombre  realism  may  be  quoted  from 
bis  Peler  Grimes  :  — 

'Thus  by  himself  compelled  to  live  each  day, 

To  wait  for  certain  hours  the  tide's  delay  ; 

At  the  same  time  the  same  dull  views  to  see, 

The  bounding  marsh-bank  and  the  blighted  tree  ; 

The  water  only,  when  the  tides  were  high, 

When  low,  the  mud  half-covered  and  half-dry  ; 

The  sun-burnt  tar  that  blisters  on  the  planks, 

The  bank-side  stakes  in  their  uneven  ranks  ; 

Heaps  of  entangled  weeds  that  slowly  float, 

As  the  tide  rolls  by  the  impeded  boat. 

When  tides  were  neap,  and  in  the  sultry  day 

Through  the  tall  bounding  mud-banks  made  their  way, 

Which  on  each  side  rose  swelling,  and  below 

The  dark  warm  flood  ran  silently  and  slow  ; 

There  anchoring,  Peter  chose  from  man  to  hide, 

There  hang  his  head,  and  view  the  lazy  tide 

In  its  hot  slimy  channel  slowly  glide.' 

William  Blakh:  (1757-1828),  poet,  engraver,  and  'God- 
intoxicated  prophet,'  opened  his  career  in  1783  with  Poetical 
Sketches,  of  very  unequal  merit,  and  to  some  extent  marred, 
like  his  later  work,  by  the  influence  of  Ossian  by  Macpherson  ; 
(p.  44)  ;  but  nevertheless  sparkling  with  lyrical  gems  worthy 
of  Shakespeare  or  Fletcher.  Blake  himself  printed  from 
copperplates,  and  coloured  by  hand  both  the  text  and  the  illus- 
trations of  his  best  book,  Songs  of  Innocence  (1 789),  and  Songs 
of  Experience  (1794)  ;  and  in  the  same  way  he  brought  out 
his  mystical  'prophetic'  books,  which  are  on  the  border-land 
between  genius  and  insanity.  He  was  too  eccentric  and  too 
much  of  a  mystic  to  influence  the  development  of  poetry 
in  others.  The  following  are  two  stanzas  trom  his 
well-known  Tiger  : — 

'  Tiger  !  Tiger'  burning  bright 
In  the  forests  of  the  night, 
What  immortal  hand  or  eye 
Could  frame  thy  fearful  symmetry  ? 


THE   AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH,   BYRON,   AND   SCOTT.      -59 

When  the  stars  threw  down  their  spears, 

And  watered  heaven  with  their  tears, 

Did  he  smile  his  work  to  see? 

Did  he  who  made  the  Lamb  make  thee ' 
Robert  Burns  (1759-1796)  wrote  all  his  best  work  in  the 
Scottish  dialect,  his  mother-tongue.  This  is  a  genuinely  literary 
language,  with  a  historical  continuity  of  its  own  ;  it  is  moreover 
largely  a  survival  of  words  and  idioms  which  formerly  were 
used  in  England  but  have  become  obsolete.  All  Burns*s  lyrics 
are  racy  of  the  soil  :  they  are  redolent  of  Scottish  wit,  Scottish 
Teligion,  and  Scottish  drink,  and  so  do  not  appeal  to  the  English 
reader  who  will  not  trouble  himself  to  master  their  peculiarities. 
His  lyrics  are  folk-songs,  inspired  by  the  primitive  instincts  of 
mankind  ;  he  has  the  intense  passion  of  a  primitive  nature,  and 
sings  always  in  the  open  air,  face  to  face  with  Nature.  Even 
more  unconventional  and  powerful  are  his  satires  and  his  quasi- 
dramatic  sketches  of  contemporary  life  and  manners  in  The 
jfolly  Beggars,  Tam-o-Shanter,  and  The  Holy  Fair. 

Tne  three  'Lake  poets  '  come  next :  Southey  (1 774-1843), 
who  is  associated  with  the  other  two  rather  by 
the  accident  of  neighbourhood  and  friendship 
than  by  any  real  literary  affinity  ;  Wordsworth  (1 770-1850),  who 
was  the  strenuous  defender,  and  the  great  prophet  of  the  new 
movement;  Coleridge  (1772-1834).  who  supplied  its  most 
transcendental  inspirations,  and  the  sanest  and  most  convincing 
criticism  of  its  methods  and  aims.  How  the  work  of  Scott 
(1 771-1832),  of  Byron  (i 788-1 824),  of  Shelley  (1792-1832), 
and  of  Keats  (1795-1821)  influenced  and  developed  the 
Romantic  movement  will  be  seen  in  the  places  referred  to. 

Samuel  Rogers   (i 763-1 855),   known  by  his  conventionally 
...  classical    Pleasures    of    Me?nory    (1792)    and 

Minor  poets  :  s      \    /  y    * 

Rogers;   Moore;       Italy    (1822),     contrived    by    his    wealth    and 

Hogg  ;  Bowles.  •    ,         ,  u  .-  c        i- 

social  talents  to  be  something  of  a  literary 
lion  in  his  day.  A  somewhat  similar  but  better  poet  was 
Thomas  Campbell,  who  is  separately  considered  (pp.  375-378). 
ThomasMoork  (1779-1852)  was  a  poet  of  the  same  class  as  the 
two  preceding  ;  but  unlike  them  he    was  a  musician,   with   an 


60  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

equally  facile  command  of  both  music  and  words.  Hence  his 
great  drawing-room  reputation,  which  has  rather  obscured  his 
real  merits.  Here  is  a  passage  from  his  Oft  in  the  Stilly 
Night  :— 

When  I  remember  all 

The  friends,  so  linked  together, 
I've  seen  around  me  fall, 

Like  leaves  in  wintry  weather  ; 
I  feel  like  one 

Who  treads  alone 
Some  banquet-hall  deserted, 

Whose  lights  are  fled, 
Whose  garlands  dead, 
And  all  but  he  departed. 
His  friendship  with  Byron  reflected  great  credit  on  his  character 
for  disinterested  sincerity  His  long  poem,  Lalla  Rookh  (1817), 
has  more  merit  than  Campbell's  longer  poems,  though  his  last 
long  one,  The  Loves  of  the  Angels  (1823),  is  inferior.  He 
excelled  as  a  satirist  :  his  Twopenny  Post  Bag,  a  collection  of 
lampoons  on  the  Prince  Regent,  is  exceptionally  brilliant ;  and 
his  Fudge  Family  is  delightful.  He  was  moreover  a  good 
writer  of  prose  :  his  Epicurean  is  a  remarkable  romance  ;  and 
he  wrote  excellent  Lives  of  Byron,  of  Sheridan,  and  of  Lord 
Edward  Fitzgerald,  though  his  History  of  Ireland  is  a  failure. 
Charles  Wolfe  was  a  man  of  one  poem,  the  famous  Burial 
of  Sir  John  Moore.  Leigh  Hunt  is  treated  of  later  (p.  67).  James 
Hogg  (1772-1835),  the  'Ettrick  Shepherd'  of  the  Nodes  Ambro- 
sianae  wrote  second-rate  novels,  and  very  unequal  verse, 
interspersed  with  many  beautiful  lyrics.  Landor  has  a 
separate  notice  (pp.  370-373)  William  Lisle  Bowles 
(1762-1850),  a  clerical  sonnetteer,  had  the  merit  of  attempting  to 
interpret  Nature  at  first  hand  in  the  light  of  human  emotions. 
Other  minor  poets  must  be  briefly  noticed  : —  Rohert 
.  ..  Bloomfield      (1 766-1 823),     with     his     over- 

Bloomfield  ;  v     '  J 

Proctor  ;  Elliott ;      praised    Farmer's    Boy;    John   Clare    (1793- 

etc. 

186 1 ),  who  wrote  better  poems  of  rural  life, 
and  who,  like  Bloomfield,  died  insane ;  James  Montgomery 
(1771-1854),    (not   the    Robert   Montgomery   whom  Macaulay 


THE   AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH,   BYRON    AND   SCOTT.         61 

pilloried),  author  of  The  World  before  the  Blood,  and  of  many 
excellent  hymns;  Henry  Kirke  White  (1785-1806),  immorta- 
lized by  Byron  in  his  famous  'eagle'  simile  ;  Bryan  Waller 
Procter  (Barry  Cornwall)  (1787-1874),  a  writer  of  indifferent  sea- 
songs  ;  Henry  Cary  (1772-1844)  translator  of  Dante's  Divina 
Commedia;  Reginald  Heber  (1783-1826),  Bishop  of  Calcutta, 
author  of  well-known  hymns  ;  Ebenezer  Elliot  (1781-1849), 
the  'Corn-Law  Rhymer',  disciple  of  Crabbe  and  Wordsworth, 
who  had  considerable  poetic  gift ;  the  amiable  Felicia 
Hemans  (1 794-1 S35),  probably  immortal  through  Casa- 
bianca;  Thomas  Lovell  Beddoes  (1803-1849),  a  half- 
insane,  nightmare  poet,  with  some  vivid  flashes  of  genius, 
especially  in  his  Elizabethan  play,  Death '  s  J est-book  ;  Richard 
Hengist  Horne  (1803-1884),  with  his  epic  Orion,  and  much 
other  work  of  less  value  ;  Letitia  Elizabeth  Landon  ('l.  e.  l\) 
(1802-1838),  a  more  inspired  Mrs  Hemans,  very  popular  from 
1824  to  the  advent  of  Tennyson  ;  Hartley  Coleridge  (1796- 
1849),  eldest  son  of  the  great  Coleridge,  who  did  good  work 
as  a  journalist  and  whose  sonnets  are  genuinely  poetic  ;  John 
Hookham  Frere  (1769-1846),  famous  for  his  translations  of 
Aristophanes,  whose  humorous  satire,  The  Monks  and  the  Giant 
under  the  pseudonym  'Whistlecraft',  inspired  Byron  with  the 
verse-form  of  Beppo  and  Don  Juan  ;  William  Tennant  (1786- 
1848),  a  Scotch  professor,  who  was  roused  by  the  fun  of  Peebles 
to  the  Play  (popularly  ascribed  to  James  I.  of  Scotland,  1394- 
1437)  to  write  his  Anster  Fair,  in  which  he  anticipated 
the  verse-form  of  The  Monks  and  the  wit  of  Don  Juan ; 
James  Smith  (1775-1839)  and  Horace  Smith  (1779-1 849),  who 
wrote  those  inimitable  parodies  on  leading  contemporary  poets, 
Rejected  Addresses,  supposed  to  have  been  sent  in  for  the  official 
competition  for  an  address  to  be  spoken  at  the  reopening  of 
Drurv  Lane  Theatre  (18 12)  after  its  destruction  by  fire,  the 
real  address  being  by  Lord  Byron  ;  Edward  Fitzgerald  (1809- 
1883),  the  friend  of  Tennyson,  who  in  1859  published  a  version 
of  the  Rubaiyal  of  Omar  Khayyam  ;  and  lastly,  Richard  Harris 
Barham  (1788-1845),  rendered  immortal  by  the  wit  of  the 
Ingoldsby  Legends. 


H2  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

During   this    period   the  drama  was  at  a  low  ebb.     George 
Colman  the  Younger  ( 1 762- 1 8 36)  wrote  many 

The  drama.  .  .  •    .  m,  „    .  , 

plays,  among  which  were  The  Heir-at-law 
and  John  Bull.  Thomas  Holcroft's  (i 745-1 809)  Road  to  Ruin 
was  revived  in  1873,  and  translated  into  Danish  and  German. 
Uichard  Cumberland  (1732-1811)  produced  plays,  essays 
and  religious  poems,  and  was  caricatured  by  Sheridan  in  the 
Critic  as  'Sir  Fretful  Plagiary.'  John  O'Keefe  (1748- 1833),  a 
witty  Irishman,  wrote  the  'wild  farce'  of  The  Merry  Mourners, 
which,  as  interpreted  by  the  actor  Munden,  helped  to  move 
Charles  Lamb  to  a  passion  of  hysteric  laughter.  All  these 
were  professional  playwrights  who  did  useful  work  in  their  day, 
but  left  nothing;  of  literary  value.  Joanna  Baillie  (1 762-1 851) 
wrote  closet  plays,  a  series  of  systematised  studies  of  the 
passions.  Love,  Hatred,  etc.,  one  of  which  was  successfully 
produced  by  Kemble  ;  they  are  now  mere  literary  curiosities. 
The  chief  dramatist  of  this  period  was  James  Sheridan 
Knowles  (1784-1862),  actor  and  teacher  of  elocution,  whose 
best  tragedy  was  Virginius ;  his  best  comedy  The  Hunchback 
is  still  an  acting  play,  though  none  of  his  dramas  have  any 
great  merit  as  literature.  Sir  Thomas  Noon  Talfourd 
(1 795- 1854),  judge,  jurist,  critic,  and  dramatist,  wrote  among 
other  plays  the  classic  tragedy  Ion  (1835),  acted  at  Covent 
Garden  in  1836.  The  revival  of  this  play  by  Macready  led  to 
the  production  of  Browning's  Strafford  (1837.) 

But    if   the    drama    of   this    period    is  poor,  the  novels  are 

abundant  and  of  high  quality  ;  though  onlv  two 

Novelists  .  .  r   t  a 

names  are  prominent,  those  of  Jane  Austen 
and  Sir  Walter  Scott.  Among  the  former's  predecessors 
we  find  Dr.  John  Moore  (1730- 1803),  father  of  the  hero 
of  Corunna,  who  wrote,  as  an  eyewitness,  an  account 
of  the  Reign  of  Terror  in  the  French  Revolution,  and  is  often 
named  from  his  best  novel  Zeluco,  a  book  with  much  shrewd 
humour,  but  with  an  impossibly  wicked  hero.  William  Godwin 
(1756-1836),  Shelley's  father-in-law  (p.  392),  a  revolutionary 
anarchist  and  sceptic,  wrote  several  novels,  the  best  known 
being  Caleb  Williams    (1794),    which  is  still    popular.      It   was 


THE   AGE    OF   WORDSWORTH,   BYRON,   AND    SCOTT.      6$ 

unsuccessfully  dramatised  as  The  Iron  Chest  by  George  Colman 
the  Younger.1  Thomas  Day  (1748-1789)  wrote  Sandford  and 
Merlon,  named  from  the  two  lads,  types  of  the  honest  poor 
and  the  idle  rich,  whose  tutor,  Mr.  Barlow,  educates  them  by 
alternations  of  practical  experience  and  moral  tales.  It  is,  or 
ought  to  be,  a  school-boy  classic.  The  wealthy  and  eccentric 
William  Beckford  (i  760-1844)  wrote  Vathek,  a  novel  with  a 
unique  combination  of  Oriental  romance  and  supernatural 
horror.  Partly  the  influence  of  this  story,  still  more  that  of 
the  more  easily  imitated  Castle  of  Otranto  (1764,  b)  Horace 
Walpole ;  17 17-1797)  led  to  the  development  of  the 
blood-curdling  romances  for  which  Anne  Radcliffe  (1764- 
1822),  who  composed  The  Mysteries  0/  Udolpho,  and 
Matthew  George  Lewis  (1775-1S18),  author  of  The  Monk 
and  Tales  of  Terror,  were  mainly  responsible.  Hannah 
More  (i 745-1833)  wrote  the  celebrated  novel  Coelebs  in 
Search  0/  a  Wife,  besides  some  dull  tragedies,  brought  out 
through  Garrick's  friendly  offices  ;  also  'sacred  dramas',  'moral 
essay',  and  many  excellent  tracts,  among  them  The  Shepherd  of 
Salisbury  Plain.  Charles  Robert  Maturin  (1 782-1 824), 
clergyman  and  dramatist,  is  known  by  his  best  novel,  Melmoth, 
the  Wanderer  (1820),  a  powerful  story  whose  interest  centres 
in  a  compact  between  a  human  soul  and  the  devil.  Maria 
Epgeworth  (1767-1848),  of  a  good  family  in  Ireland,  wrote  two 
novels  vividly  depicting  Irish  life  and  manners,  Castle  Rackrent 
(1S01)  and  Ormond  ;  and  very  humorous  Essay  on  Irish  Bulls, 
besides  educational  books  for  children.  Highly  talented  and 
almost  a  genius,  she  is  a  good  story-teller,  but  with  little  power 
of  invention.  With  her  we  reach  the  mother  of  the  nineteenth 
century  novel,  Jane  Austen  (1775-1817),  just  as  Scott  (1771- 
1832)  is  the  father  of  the  nineteenth  century  romance. 

The    student   must    not    be    misled    by    the  kinship  of  the 
words  'romance'  and    'romantic'.     The    latter 
an^theTo^e"'        epithet,  as  applied  to  the  'School    of    Shakes- 
peare',   or  the    'School    of   Wordsworth',    has 

1  His   disgust   at   this   failure   led   him  to   adopt  the  eponym,  The 
Younger,  lest  his  father  should  be  discredited. 


64  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

scarcely    anything    in    common    with    the    word    'romance'  as 
applied    to    Scott's    stories.     Still    less    has    it    to    do  with  the 
adjective    'romance*   as    when    we    call    French    a     'Romance' 
language.     Yet    the    latter    word    is    really  the  parent  of  all  its 
diverse    modern  applications.     It    was  originally  the  title  given 
to  the  Latin-formed  language  of  the  common  people  in  France, 
Spain,    or   other    parts  of  the  extinct  Roman  empire,  to  distin- 
guish   those    dialects   from    Latin    proper,  the  language  of  the 
Law-courts.     Hence    the    noun     'romance'    (French     romari) 
came  to  be  applied  to  the  popular  ballads  of  Spain  or    France, 
and    subsequently    to    the    chronicles     of     chivalry     such     as 
Lancelot,   or   the    heroic    tales    of   the     seventeenth      century, 
Polexandre  Cassandre  etc.     On  the  other  hand  we    have    taken 
the  word  'novel'  from  the  Italian  novella,  which  meant  originally 
a  new    jest,  an  after-dinner  story,  such  as  the    Hundred  Merry 
Tales  (printed  by  John  Rastell,  1525).     Thus  the  names  'novel' 
and'  romance',  as  now  used,  are  merely  conventional  terms,  and 
it    is    impossible    to   draw    an    accurate    line  between  the  two. 
Broadly    speaking,    a    story    in    which    the    interest    is    chiefly 
centred  in  wonderful  adventures  and    unfamiliar    situations    or 
surroundings    is    called    a    'romance'  ;    a  story  which  concerns 
itself  with  everyday  people  and  everyday  experiences,  in   which 
therefore    the    main    interest    is   centred    in    the  delineation  of 
character,    is    called    a   novel.     In  this  sense  certainly  all  Jane 
Austen's  stories    are  novels,  and -most  of  Scott's  are  romances, 
though   all    that   is  best  in  Scott's  stories  is  really  novel  writing 
and    not    romance.     For    the   true    artist     is    the    writer     who 
introduces    the    most  interesting     situations    and     adventures 
possible,  but    always   subordinates   them    to    the    development 
and    delineation    of    character.     Whether    his     incidents     and 
situations  be  taken  from    the    hovel    or   the   palace,    from    the 
humdrum  surroundings  of  a    city    clerk  or    the    life-and-death 
intrigues  of  a  Mazarin  or  a   Richelieu,  is  perfectly    immaterial. 
Hamlet  is  none  the  less  human  for  being   a   prince,   nor  is  the 
Fool  in    Lear  less  intensely  tragic  for  being  a  clown.     Words- 
worth's   'Lucy'    and  the  'cottage  girl'  in  We  are  Seven,    belong 
to  the  Romantic  School  of  poetry  because    in    them    we    come 


THE    AGE   OF    WORDSWORTH,    BYRON,    AND   SCOTT.         65 

into  direct  touch    with  the  living,  throbbing  heart  of  humanity. 
A    few    novelists    after    Scott    must    be    briefly  mentioned. 

William   Harrison    Ainsworth    (1&05-1S82) 
N°ScotttS  aftCP      sti11     charms     schoolboys     by     his     thrilling 

historical  novels,  such  as    Windsor  Castle   and 
the  Tower  of  London.  George  Payny  R.  James  (1801-1860),  a 
voluminous  author,  is  best  known  by  his  novel  Richelieu.  Susan 
Furrier    (1782-1854),   a    friend  of  Scott,   produced  Marriage, 
The    Inheritance,     and     Destiny.     Mary     Russell     Mitford 
(1787-1855)    wrote    the   charming   rural    sketches  which  make 
up  Our  Village,  a  series  of  Artistic  'studies'  for  a  novel    rather 
than  a  novel    in    itself.     Somewhat    similar    are    the  Scottish 
scenes    in    John    Galt's    (1779- 1839)    Annals   of  the  Parish. 
Captain    Frederick    Marryat    (1792-1848)    carried     on     the 
tradition  of  Smollett's  sea  heroes  in  Midshipman    Easy,    Jacob 
Faithful,  Master  matt  Ready,  and  Peter     Simple  ;   as  also    did 
Michael  Scott  (1789-1835)  in    Tom   Cringle's    Log,    and    the 
Cruise  of  the  Midge,  both  of  which  first  appeared  in  'Blackwood's 
Magazine'  founded  1817. 

This  era  in  our  literature  is  also  distinguished    by    the   rise 
of    a    new    force    in    literature,  the  multiple- 
Periodicals  :  'The      minded  periodical  or  Magazine,  which  in  some 

Antijacobin.  r  o  > 

instances  has  wielded  a  more  dictatorial  power 
than  Drvden  or  Johnson.  It  has  also  done  good  work  by 
publishing  books  of  permanent  literary  value  in  serial  form, 
such  as  Carlyle's  Sartor  Resartus  or  Lamb's  Essays  of  Elia, 
which,  but  for  their  friendly  aid,  might  never  have  been  written. 
The  Anli  Jacobin  Review  (1798-182  1 )  was  conducted  mainly 
by  William  Gifford  (1756-1826),  the  chief  other  contributors 
being  John  Hookham  Frere  (1769-1846),  and  its  leading  spirit. 
George  Canning  (1770- 1827;  ^p.  44)  statesman  and  brilliant 
verse-writer,  famous  for  his  Needy  Knife-grinder. 

The   Edinburgh    Revieiv    was    started    in    1802    chiefly  by 

Jeffrey,  Brougham,  and    Sydney    Smith.     The 

The    Edinburgh      editorship    soon     passed    into    the     hands    of 

Review.  r  r 

Francis    Jkffrey    (afterwards    Lord    Jeffrey) 
•(1773-1850),  who  sentenced    Word  worth's  Excursion  with    his 
5 


66  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

'This  will  never  do.'  The  Review  fully  lived  up  to  its  Latin 
motto,  'The  judge  is  condemned  when  the  criminal  is  acquitted'; 
only  it  was  judge  and  jury  in  one,  and  assumed  its  victims  to 
be  guilty  until  they  could  prove  themselves  innocent.  Sydney 
Smith  (177 1-1845),  tne  wittiest  of  clergymen,  perhaps  of 
Englishmen,  wrote  tne  brilliant  Letters  of  Peter  Plymley  on 
Catholic  Emancipation  (1808)  and  Letters  to  Archdeacon  Single- 
ton (.1837-9).  Henry,  Lord  Brougham  (1779-1868)  did  little 
more  than  dabble  in  literature  and  philosophy  ;  he  belongs  to 
the  political  world. 

The     Weekly    Political  Register    (1802-1835)    was     started 

by  William  Cobbett  (1762-1835)  as    a   Tory 
ThRegiste'rV  review,  but  in  1804  he  became  a  Radical  ;  and 

in  1 8 10  suffered  two  years'  imprisonment  for 
his  editorial  strictures.  His  style  was  based  on  Swift's  but  he 
had  the  racy  vernacular  of  Latimer  and  Bunyan.  His  chief 
merit  lay  in  the  encouragement  he  gave  to  reality  and  indepen- 
dence in  journalism. 

The    Quarterly    Review   was    founded    in  London  in  1809 

by  the  publisher  John  Murray,  as  a  Tory  rival 
ThR?vieaXt,erlV        to    the    Whi§    'Edinburgh    Review.'     William 

Gifford  (seep.  65)  was  its  first  editor,  till  in  1825 
he  was  succeeded  by  John  Gibson  Lockhart  (1 794-1 854), 
Scott's  son-in-law  and  biographer,  who  used  his  editorial  power, 
fortunately  in  vain,  to  strangle  Charlotte  Bronte  and  Tennyson 
in  their  literary  cradles.  Scott  and  other  writers  in  'The 
Edinburgh',  helped  the  Quarterly  by  their  contributions. 
Sir  John  Barrow  (1764-1848),  a  self-made  man,  Secretary  of 
the  Admiralty,  was  a  useful  member  of  its  staff  ;  he  was  an 
authority  on  naval  matters  and  geography.  Isaac  Disraeli 
( 1 766-1 848),  father  of  Lord  Beaconsfield,  and  author  of  Curios- 
ities of  Literature,  was  also  associated  with  the  Quarterly. 
Blackwood's    Magazine,    also  a  Tory  periodical,  introduced 

for    the    first   time    original     contributions    in 
■Blackwood's  addition    to    reviews :     and    thus    started    the 

Magazine.  ' 

growth  of  what  now  is  one  of  the  most  influen- 
tial   forces    in    modern     literature.       William    Blackwood,    an 


THE    AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH,    BYP.ON,   AND   SCOTT.         67 

Edinburgh  publisher,  founded  (1817)  and  edited  it-,  but  from 
the  beginning  it  was  practically  in  the  hands  of  John  Wilson 
(1785-1854),  better  known  by  his  pseudonym  of 'Christopher 
North.'  Wilson  made  his  reputation  chiefly  by  his  series  of 
imaginary  dialogues  that  appeared  in  Blackwood,  entitled 
Node*  AmbrosiancB.  The  speakers  were  Christopher  North, 
James  Hogg  (1770- 1835) ;  he  also  contributed  his  poems  to  its 
columns),  and  an  imaginary  Timothy  Tickler.  These  three 
discussed  every  subject  that  was  likely  to  interest  their  readers 
in  an  altogether  novel  style  of  rhapsody,  not  unlike  the  elabo- 
rate dream-prose  of  De  Quincey.  Lockhart,  before  he  edited 
the  'Quarterly,'  was  one  of  the  most  influential  members  on  the 
staff  of  Blackivnod ;  and  he  probably  was  responsible  for  its 
violent  attack  upon  John  Keats  (1795-1821  ;  the  attack  on  the 
'Cocknev  School' appeared  in  1818).  The  brilliant  but  reck- 
less William  Maginn  (1793- 1842)  was  an  important  contribu- 
tor, as  also  was  Hartley  Coleridge  (1 796-1 849). 

The  Examiner  was  commenced  in  1808  by  Leigh  Hunt 
(1784-1859)  and  his  brother.  Hunt  was  a 
The  Examiner.'  mjsceiiane0us  prose-writer  and  a  poet  :  he 
started  or  contributed  to  or  even  wholly  wrote  several  other 
periodicals,  'The  Reflector,'  'The  Indicator,'  'The  Companion,' 
a  new  'Tatler,'  and  his  own  special  'London  Journal.'  In  181 2 
he  was  fined  and  imprisoned  for  a  libel  on  the  Prince  Regent 
in  The  Examiner.  His  verse,  inspired  by  the  old  English 
classics  and  by  the  Italian  poets,  was  both  original  and  highly 
stimulating  :  Abou  ben  Adhem  should  be  familiar  to  every  one  ; 
and  his  sonnet,  The^-Nile,  is  one  of  the  best  in  the  language, 
with  its  inimitable  description  of  Cleopatra  as 

'  The  laughing  queen  that  caught  the  world's  great  hands.' 
In  184c  he  produced  a  successful  play,  The  Legend  of  Florence. 
He    is    said   to    have    been    the    original  of  Dickens's  'Harold 
Skimpole'  in  Bleak  House. 

The     London     Magazine,     a    mildly     Liberal     Journal,    was 
The  London  founded    ini820,  and    edited    by  John    Scotc, 

Magazine  '  wh0  was  killed  in  a  duel  by  a  rival  on  the  staff 

of  'Blackwood.'     The  greatest   of   its   contributors   was  Lamb 


68  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

(1775-1834  ),  and   another   was    De    Quincey    (1785-1859).     A 

third,  almost  more  important,    was    William  Hazlitt(I778  — 

1830),  in  some  respects  one  of  the  greatest  of    English  critics, 

as  well  as  a  writer    of  admirable    essays.      But  his  best  work   is 

critical,    on    The    Characters   of  Shakespeare,    The  Elizabethan 

Dramatists,  The  English  Poets,  and  The  English  Comic  Writers. 

Among   the    historians  of  this  period  should  be  mentioned 

Sir  William    Napikr  (1786 — 1860),  author  of 

Historians.  ^     '  " 

The  History  of  the  War  in  the  Peninsula ; 
Henry  Hallam  (1778  — 1859),  who  wrote  A  View  of  the  State 
of  Europe  during  the  Middle  A'.'es,  a  Constitutional  History 
of  England,  and  an  Introduction  to  the  Literature  of  Europe  in 
the  15th,  16th,  and  iyth  Centuries  ;  William  Roscok.  (1753  — 
1  83  1),  who  published  a  Life  of  Lorenzo  de  Medici  and  a  Life 
of  Leo  the  Tenth,  which  have  become  classics ;  William 
mitford  (r  744-1827),  whose  History  of  Greece,  written  from 
an  aristocratic  point  of  view,  is  superior  in  literary  style 
to  those  of  Thirlwall  and  Grotk,  by  which  it  has  been  su- 
perseded. James  Mill  (1773-1836),  father  of  the  more  cele- 
brated John  Stuart  Mill,  wrote  a  History  of  British  India, 
besides  other  philosophical  and  political  .treatises.  Lastly, 
Sir  James  Mackintosh  (1765-1832),  controverted  Burke's 
anti-Revolution  fanaticism  (see  p.  301)  in  his  Vindiciae 
Gallicae,  and  wrote  a  fragment  of  English  history,  On  the 
Revolution  of  1688,  which  was  published  after  his  death. 

Jeremy     Bentham    ( 1748- 1 832),    a    'Hobbes     without    his 
„._.,        .  literarv  genius,'    was  'a  sort  of  prophet  of    the 

Philosophers  and  '    °  ft. 

Theologians.  Whigs,  and  round  his  fundamental  principle, 
borrowed  from  Priestley,  of  'the  greatest  happiness  of  the 
greatest  number,'  built  up  an  English  imitation  of  the  popular 
philosophers  of  the  French  Revolution.  Thomas  RoBRkT 
MalthUs  (1 766-1 834 )  is  well  known  for  his  Essay  on  the 
Principles  <f  Population.  David  Ricardo  (1772-1 823)  pub- 
lished an  important  treatise  On  the  Principles  of  Political 
Economy  and  Taxation.  William  Palev  (1743- 1805),  Senior 
Wrangler  in  1763,  wrote  the  two  works  which  have  long  been 
Cambridge  text-books,  Evidences  of  Christianity    and  Natural 


THE    AGE   OF    WORDSWORTH,    BYRON,    AND    SCOTT.         69 

Theology,  in  which  the  being  of  God  and  the  Divine  Mission 
of  Christ  are  proved  with  mathematical  precision.  His 
Horae  Paulinae  will  remain  for  all  time  an  ingenious  and 
admirable  proof  of  the  authenticity  of  the  Pauline  Epistles  from 
obviously  undesigned  internal  evidence.  Robert  Hall 
(1764-183 1),  a  Baptist  minister  at  Cambridge,  was  one  of  the 
most  luminous  and  impressive  of  preachers  ;  his  published 
sermons  are  admitted  to  be  models  of  pulpit  eloquence. 
Dr.  Thomas  Chalmers  (1780-1847),  an  eminent  Presbyterian 
divine  was  a  voluminous  and  powerful  writer  on  education, 
Christian  evidences,  and  the  philosophy  of  religion;  his 
fervent  pulpit  oratory  carried  his  hearers  with  him  in  spite  of 
themselves. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MODERN  LITERATURE  (1835-1901). 

The  modern  period  may  conveniently  be  closed  with  the  end 
Literature  and  of  Queen  Victoria's  reign,  no  literary  move- 
the  national  life.  merit  of  any  importance  having  been  in- 
augurated since  then.  Literature  is  the  outcome  of,  and  the 
index  to,  the  highest  intellectual,  moral,  and  spiritual  life  of  a 
nation.  Of  these  three  aspects  of  our  nature,  ordinary  Prose 
may  be  said  to  correspond  to  the  first ;  the  Novel  and  the 
Drama  to  the  second  ;  and  Poetry  to  the  third.  The  highest 
literature  of  a  nation,  its  poetry  and  drama,  depend  largely 
upon  ihe  existence  of  a  harmony  between  its  social,  political, 
and  theological  environment.  In  Shakespeare's  time  this 
harmony  was  practically  established  ;  hence  the  literary  splend- 
our of  the  Elizabethan  age.  But  even  in  Shakespeare  can  be 
discovered  the  '  little  rift  within  the  lute/  traced  in  the  sad,  if 
resigned,  agnosticism  of  Prospero's  outlook  upon  life.  This 
age  was  followed  by  a  time  of  violent  conflict,  political  and 
theological ;  the  nation  thenceforth  became  split  up  into  two 
warring  camps  both  in  sociology  and  in  religion.  Religion 
itself  has  been  half-revolutionised  by  two  great  shocks.  The 
first  of  these  occurred  when,  in  (1830-33)  Sir  Charles  Lyell 
published  his  Principles  of  Geology,  from  which  educated 
Englishmen  learned  the  new  doctrine  that  the  gigantic  power 
by  which  the  Himalayas  were  upheaved  to  their  icebound 
solitudes ;  the  cataclysmal  shocks  by  which  vast  forests  of 
tree-ferns  and  of  giant  marestails  had  been  submerged  and 
slowly  blackened  into  coal,  are  identical  with  those  forces 
which  have  recently  raised  the  estuary  of  the  Clyde  and  are 
still  deepening  the  peat-bogs  of  county  Clare.  How  this  book 
affected  Tennyson  and  his  compeers,  and  how  the  religious 
world  received  it,  may  be  seen  in  the  preface  to  Mott* 
H Arthur  : 


MODERN   LITERATURE.  71 

'Half-awake  I  heard 
The  parson,  taking  wide  and  wider  sweeps, 
Now  harping  on  the  church-commissioners, 
Now  hawking  at  Geology  and  schism  ; 
Until  I  woke,  and  found  him  settled  do»vn 
Upon  the  general  decay  of  faith 
Right  thro'  the  world,  "  at  home  was  little  left, 
And  none  abroad  :  there  was  no  anchor,  none, 
To  hold  by."  ' 
Tennyson's  own  religious  autobiography,  so   far   as    relates    to 
the  controversy  between  Religion  and  Science,  is  told  in  detail 
in  In  Memoriam. 

But  a  far  more  potent  influence  arose  soon    afterwards.     In 

1859  Charles  Darwin  published  The  Origin  of 

Species,    which   led    Sir   Charles  Lyell  in  1863 

'to  produce  his  Antiquity   of  Man.     Finally,   in    1871,   Darwin 

crowned    his    life    work    with  The  Descent  of  Man.     Upon  the 

far-reaching  effect   of   these    books    upon    religious    belief    we 

cannot    here    enter  ;   but   there   is  no  doubt  that  The   Origin  of 

Species   slowly    and    surely    transformed    the    thinking    of    the 

whole  civilised  world. 

The  two  poets  that  dominate  this  period  (as  Shakespeare  does 
Poetry: Tennyson  tne  Elizabethan  age)  Tennyson  (1809-1892), 
ren|dationr0tonihfi'r  and  Browning  (1812-1889),  have  yet  another 
ase.  peculiarity    in    common    with  him.     Like  him 

they  are  great,  because  they  embody  a  strong  faith  ;  and  like 
him  they  herald  an  inevitable  decadence,  because,  with  the  age 
they  represented,  they  had  outgrown  the  intellectual  belief  in 
which  they  had  been  nurtured,  without  finding  and  embodying, 
though  giving  themselves  to  much  speculative  enquiry,  a  better 
one  for  themselves.  Hence  we  shall  not  expect  to  find  any 
great  genius  as  we  pass  onwards  from  these  two. 

Of  the  poeis  of  this  period  that  are  not  separately  discussed 
Hood  ;  ciough  ;  elsewhere,  we  can  here  give  little  more  than 
Mrs.  Browning.  tne  names  and  most  noticeable  compositions. 
Sir  Henry  Taylor  (1800- 1886)  wrote  Philip  Van  Artevelde, 
a  drama.  Winthrop  Mackworth  Praed  (1802-1839)  com- 
posed   light,    society    verses,    such  as  A   Letter  of  Advice  and 


72  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

The  Vicar.  Thomas  Hood  (1799- 1845)  wrote  the  humorous 
poem.  Miss  Kilmansegg,  The  Dream  of  Eugene  Aram,  The 
Song  of  the  Shirt,  and  The  Bridge  of  Sighs.  Four  lines  may 
be  quoted  from  his  tender  lyric,   The  Death-bed : — 

'  Our  very  hopes  belied  our  fears, 
Our  fears  our  hopes  belied — 

We  thought  her  dying  when  she  slept, 
And  sleeping  when  she  died.' 
Macaulay's  Lays  are  treated  of  separately  (p.  411).  Arthur 
Hugh  Clough  (1819-1861)  is  the  author  of  The  Rolhie  of 
Tober-na-  Vuolich,  composed  in  not  very  satisfactory  hexameters,, 
and  Dipsychus.  Saintsbury  describes  him  as  la  failure  of  a 
considerable  poet' ;  but  he  had  a  passion  for  truth,  and  some 
of  his  shorter  pieces,  as  Qua  Cursum  Ventus  and  '  Say  not  the 
struggle  nought  availeth,'  possess  a  strange  fascination. 
Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  (1806-1861),  like  Wordsworth, 
wrote  far  too  much,  and  her  poems  are  often  disfigured  by  bad 
rhymes.  Many,  however,  of  her  lyrics  are  of  high  merit. 
Thus  her  A  Musical  Instrument  is  intensely  beautiful  and 
spiritually  profound.     The  following  is  the  final  stanza  :  — 

'  Yet  half  a  beast  is  the  great  god  Pan, 

To  laugh  as  he  sits  by  the  river, 
Making  a  poet  out  of  a  man  : 

The  true  gods  sigh  for  the  cost  and  pain  — 
Kor  the  reed  which  grows  nevermore  again 
As  a  reed  with  the  reeds  in  the  river.' 
Equally  beautiful  is    The    Rhyme  of  the    Duchess    Mar.  though 
too   much  spun  out.     Aurora  Lei°h  is  a  sociological  romance  ; 
Casa     Guidi     Windows    shows    her    passionate     love    for    the 
redemption    of    Italy  ;  and    her    Sonnets  from    the  Portuguese, 
whose  fictitious  title,  as  Stedman  remarks,  'was  a  screen  behind' 
which  the  singer  poured  out  her  full   heart,'    are    some   of   ihe 
finest  subjective  poems  in  the  language. 

After  Matthew  Arnold,   considered   elsewhere    (1820-1888  ; 

The  Pre-Raphaei       see     pp.     478-482)    we     come     to     a    group 

ite  poets.  representing    a     renaissance    of    medievalism, 

fostered    no  doubt    by    the  '  Oxford  movement  '  (p.  95),  and 

connected  with  one  another   by  artistic  sympathy  with  the  'Pre- 


MODERN    LITERATURE.  73^ 

Raphaelite  Brotherhood'  of  painters.  The  organ  of  the  group 
was  the  famous  magazine  named  The  Germ.  For  them  beauty 
was  the  end  and  object  of  existence.  '  The  atmosphere  of  their 
works  is  the  atmosphere  of  a  dream,  not  of  any  real  place 
or  time  ;  and  their  morality  is  the  morality  of  dream-world.' 
Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti  (1828-1882),  also  eminent  as  a 
painter,  buried  the  MSS.  of  his  early  poems  in  his  wife's  grave 
in  1862,  and  exhumed  and  published  them  eight  years  later. 
His  great  works  are  The  Blessed  Damozel,  Dante's  vision  of 
his  celestial  Beatrice  rewritten,  and  the  sonnet- sequence, 
The  House  of  Life.  He  resembles  Keats  in  his  sumptuous 
colouring  and  rich  imagery.  The  following  are  the  first 
two     stanzas    of     The    Blessed  Damozel:  — 

'The  blessed  damozel  leaned  out 

From  the  gold  bar  of  Heaven  ; 
Her  eyes  were  deeper  than  the  depth 

Of  waters  stilled  at  even  ; 
She  had  three  lilies  in  her  hand, 

And  the  stars  in  her  hair  were  seven. 

Her  robe,  ungirt  from  clasp  to  hem. 

No  wrought  flowers  did  adorn, 
But  a  white  rose  of  Mary's  gift 

For  service  meetly  worn  ; 
Her  hair,  that  lay  along  her  back, 

Was  yellow  like  ripe  corn.' 

William  Morris  ( 1834-1896),  socialist,  artistic  decorator,, 
printer,  and  book-binder,  ranks  high  as  a  poet.  Admirably 
lucid,  in  simple  yet  voluptuous  diction  with  a  tone  of  tender 
melancholy,  he  sets  himself  to  show  the  world  the  beauty  and 
health  that  might  belong  to  life,  when  men  should  regain  simpli- 
city and  should  once  more  love  the  earth  and  the  labour  of 
their  hands.  His  socialism  was  only  the  expression  of  his 
exuberant  passion  for  the  joy  and  grace  of  life — of  revolt 
against  the  squalor  and  sordidness  of  the  age  of  commerce  and 
machinery  into  which  he  was  born.  He  is  the  author  of  The 
Defence  of  Gui?ievere,  The  Life  and  Death  of  Jason,  and  The 
Earthly  Paradise,  a  series  of  twenty-four    tales.     The   first    of 


74  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

• 

these  reproduces  the  mediaeval  charm  of  Malory's  Morte 
D  Arthur  (printed  1485),  a  phase  which  Tennyson  deliberately 
rejected  ;  the  title  of  the  last  perfectly  expresses  the  range  of 
his  whole  poetic  art,  which  intentionally  restricts  itself  to 
Nature  and  human  life  : — 

'Of  Heaven  or  Hell  I  have  no  power  to  sing, 
I  cannot  ease  the  burden  of  your  fears, 
Or  make  quick-coming  death  a  little  thing, 
Or  being  again  the  pleasure  of  past  years, 
Nor  for  my  words  shall  you  forget  your  tears, 
Or  hope  again,  for  aught  that  I  can  say, 
The  idle  singer  of  an  empty  day.' 

Algernon  Charlks  Swinburne  (1837- 1909*  was  as  com- 
pletely pagan  as  Shelley,  without  his  excuse  ;  and.  like  Shelley, 
was  not  over  careful  of  conventional  morality.  Like  Shelley  too 
he  is  a  consummate  master  of  tne  music  of  words.  His  Atalanta 
in  Calydon  challenges  comparison  with  Samson  Agonules 
(1671,  by  Milton).  The  keynote  of  Swinburne's  style  is  exuber- 
ance, as  that  of  M.  Arnold's  is  restraint.  Christina  Gkorgina 
Rossetti  (1830- 1 895),  younger  sister  of  Dante  Gabriel,  was  the 
antipodes  of  Swinburne,  being  intensely  religious.  It  is 
a  matter  of  dispute  whether  she  or  Mrs  Browning  is  the  greater 
poet.  She  certainly  has  no  other  superior  ;  and  to  her  musical 
and  imaginative  gifts  she  adds  a  saving  sense  of  humour.  Her 
best  poems  are  Goblin  Market,  Sleep  at  Sen,  and  The  Prince's 
Progress,  all  of  which  were  illustrated  by  her  brother.  Arthur 
O'Shaughnessy  (1844- 1 881)  wrote  An  Epic  of  Women  and 
Music  and  Moonlight ;  he  was  morbidly  Pre-Raphaelite.  James 
Thomson  (1834-1882),  a  disciple  of  the  atheist  Charles  Brad- 
laugh,  and  expelled  from  the  army  for  insubordination,  has 
written  one  splendid  embodiment  of  hopeless  despair  in  The 
City  of  Dreadful  Night.  He  expresses,  as  Saintsbury  says, 
'the  negative  and  hopeless  side  of  the  sense  of  mystery,  of  the 
Unseen,  just  as  Christina  Rossetti  expresses  the  positive  and 
hopeful  one.'  Thomas  Woolnkr  (1826-1S92),  sculptor,  wrote 
My  Beautiful  Lady  and  Pygmalion.  Francis  Thomson  (1859- 
1907),    author    of    Sister    Songs,    Love   in  Dt art's  Lap,  should 


MODERN    LITERATURE.  75 

perhaps  be  classed  here.  That  he  is  'Crashaw  (1613-1649)  born 
again,  but  born  greater'  is  the  conclusion  of  the  first  of  his 
reviewers.  Here  is  a  fine  picture  from  his  remarkable  Hound 
of  Heaven  : — 

1  daily  guess  what  Time  in  mists  confounds  ; 

Yet  ever  and  anon  a  trumpet  sounds 

From  the  hid  battlements  of  Eternity  ; 

Those  shaken  mists  a  space  unsettle,  then 

Round  the  half-glimpsed  turrets  slowly  wash  again.' 

The   chief   faults  of  the  so-called  'Spasmodic  School'  were 

The  Spasmodic        forced  conceits  and  a   certain    grandiloquence 

School.  Qf   expression  often  combined  with  triviality  of 

thought.     The  chief  poets     of     this  school  were  Philip  James 

Bailky    (1 816-1902)   author  of  Fes/us,  a  poem   much    admired 

by    Tennyson;    Sydney    Dobell    (1824-1874),  who  wrote  The 

Roman,  a  drama,  Balder,  and  Sonnets  on  (he     War  (Crimean)  ; 

Alexandkk   Smith  (1 829-1 867),  who  produced  A  Life  Drama, 

City  Poems,  and  Edwin  of    Dei' a.      This    school   was  satirized 

by   Professor   Aytoun  (1813-1 8^6)  in  Firmilian  ;  but  his  own 

'best  work  is  to  be  found  in  The  Bon  Gaultier   Ballads,    chiefly 

clever    parodies,    written    in    collaboration  with  Sir  Theodore 

Martin  (1816-1909),  and  in  Lavs  of  the  Scottish  Cavaliers. 

To  the  industry  of  Bertram  Dobell  we  owe  the  recent  rescue 

■Bertram  Dobell  from     oblivion     of     THOMAS     TraHEKNE  (  I  636- 

andTraherne.  ^^     a     fine     ^^     an{J     scholar,  who  ranges 

with  Herbert,  Vaughan,  and  Crashaw  as  a  writer  of  mystical 
religious  verse.  In  his  insight  into  childhood's  relations  with 
the  invisible  and  into  the  essentially  spiritual  nature  of  the 
external  world,  he  anticipates  all  that  is  profoundest  in  Words- 
worth and  sanest  in  Blake.  The  following  passages  may  be 
quoted  in  illustration  :  — 

'A  native  health  of  innocence 

Within  my  bones  did  grow, 
And  while  my  God  did  all  his  glories  show 

I  felt  a  vigour  in  my  sense 
That  all  was  Spirit.     I  within  did  flow 

With  seas  of  life,  like  wine  ; 

I  nothing  in  the  world  did  know 

But't  was  divine'  (  Wonder). 


76  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

'Where  I  once  with  blemished  eyes 
Began  their  pence  and  toys  to  view, 

Drowned  in  their  customs,  1  became 
A  stranger  to  the  shining  skies. 

Lost  as  a  dying  flame'  [The  Apostacy). 

Martin    Farquhar     Tipper    (18 10-1889)    produced    Pro- 
other  poets  verbial  Philosophy,  which  had   immense  vogue 
in  its  day  and  realized  about  ,£20,000,  but  has- 
ever  since  been    regarded  with    general   ridicule,     its  best  line 
describes  the  death  of  an  overwork  horse  : 

'  The    struggle     hath    cracked     his    heart-strings,     the 

generous  brute  is"  dead.' 
Frederick  Tennyson  (1 807-1898)  wrote  Days  and  Hours. 
Charles  Tennyson  Turner  (1808-1879  ;  see  p.  415).  was  the 
author  of  many  beautiful  sonnets.'  The  Remains  of  Arthur 
Henry  Hallam  (1811-1833),  published  by  his  father,  should 
be  read  as  a  commentary  with  In  Memoriam.  Professor  John 
Stuart  Blackie  (1809-1895)  translated  Aeschylus  and  wrote 
Lays  of  the  Highlands.  Lord  Houghton  (Richard  Monckton 
Milnes)  composed  excellent  drawing  room  songs,  the  best. 
known  being  'Strangers  yet.'  Thomas  Cooper  (1805-1892),  an 
imprisoned  Chartist,  produced  in  gaol  The  Purgatory  of 
Suicides.  Frederick  Locker  Lampson  (1821-1895),  wrote 
London  Lyrics.  Lord  Lytton  ('Owen  Meredith'  ;  1831-1891), 
Viceroy  of  India  and  son  of  the  novelist  (Bulwer  Lytton  1803- 
1S73),  wuuld  have  risen  to  high  merit,  if  he  had  not  attempted 
too  wide  a  range  ;  his  best  work  perhaps  is  Mar  ah  and  King 
Poppy.  Coventry  Patmore  (1823- 1896)  is  well  known  as 
the  author  of  The  Angel  in  the  House.  Edward  Lear  (1812- 
1888),  ariist  and  poet,  is  the  inimitable  writer  of  Nonsense- 
Verses  for  children.  Charles  Stuart  Calverley  (1831 -1884), 
the  prince  of  verse-caricaturists,  wrote  Verses  and  Translations, 
and  Fly-leaves.  Adelaide  Ann  Procter  (1825-1864),  daughter 
of  'Barry  Cornwall'  (B.  W.  Procter,  1 787-1874),  composed 
Legends  and  Lyrics,  and  several  notable  songs  (as  The  Lost 
Chord)  and  hymns.  William  Watson  (b.  1858)  wrote 
Words-worth's     Grave    and  Lacrymae  Musarum,    and     is  dis- 


MODERN    LITERATURE.  77 

"anguished  for   his    sonnets.     He  protested    against   England's 
inaction     in     regard     to     the     Armenian      massacres     in     his 
poem  T/ie    Year  of  Shame       Sir  Lewis  Morris    (1833-1907* 
is    the     author    of     The    Epic    of  Hades.       Rudyard    Kipling 
■(b.  1865)  produced  Barrack-room  Ballads  and  The  Recessional. 
Mrs  Hamilton  King  was  inspired  by  a  love  of  Italy  perhaps  even 
more    passionate    than   Mrs    Browning's  to  write  The  Disciples, 
an  account  of  Garibaldi's  followers.   William  Butler    yeats  (b. 
1865),  the  poet  of  Ireland,  is  the  author  of  The  Celtic  Twilight, 
A  Book  of  Irish   Verse,  and   The  Green  Helmet  and  other  Poems. 
The  conditions    under  which    plays  were    produced  rapidly 
The  drama  :  chang-     altered  from  the    year  1 843,    when  the   special 
ing  conditions.  °      privileges  of   Drury  Lane    and  Covent  Garden 
Theatres  were  abolished,  and  free-trade    in    theatricals,  subject 
only    to    the    censorship,    was    established.     This    produced  a 
great  multiplication  of    the  number  of    theatres,  and    made  the 
■competition    between    rival  managers    extremely  keen.      A  still 
more  important  change  took  place  when  the  'stock  companies' 
of  the  country    towns  were    replaced  by    'travelling  companies' 
from  London.      The    former    system    had    prevailed   from  the 
Restoration    onwards.      Each  large  town  had  its  theatre  and  its 
own  stock  company.     Star  actors  travelled  about,  and  produced 
new  plays  in  each  town,  supported  by  the  local  company.      But 
in    1 867    Mr.     and    Mrs    Bancroft    of  the    Prince    of    Wales's 
Theatre    organized  a    travelling    company  to  take  round  to  all 
the  provincial  towns  an  exact  replica  of  their  plays  as  perform- 
ed in  London.     The    Haymarket    company    under    Buckstone 
followed  suit,  and  the  new    plan  was   so  successful    that  it  soon 
drove  the  old  one  out  of  the  field       Moreover  the  Bancrofts  in- 
augurated another   change.     Up  to  that  time  the  higher  classes 
seldom  patronized  the  theatre,  partly  because  the  plays  produc- 
ed were    as    a  rule    mere  translations    from  the  French,   unreal 
and    second-rate;    partly  because    the  theatres    were  ill-lighted 
and    uncomfortable.       The     Bancrofts    altered   all    this.     The 
plays    they     produced    were    original,    real,    natural  ;  and  they 
made    their    theatre    as    comfortable    as    an    aristocratic    club. 
Society    and    the    Stage    were   thus  reconciled,    and  the    'Play' 


78  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

became  almost  as  fashionable  as  the  'Opera.'  The  result  of 
all  these  changes  was  the  'long  run'  system.  The  cost  of  the 
mounting  and  accessories  of  a  play  was  now  so  great,  that  one 
which  did  not  'run'  for  at  least  fifty  nights  would  half  ruin  the 
manager.  Again,  those  theatres  were  most  successful  that 
exploited  the  special  talents  of  a  particular  actor,  such  as  Sir 
Henry  Irving  or  Sir  Beerbohm  Tree.  Thus  the  'actor-manager* 
system,  combined  with  the  necessity  for  long  runs,  has  ver)~ 
much  specialized  the  conditions  under  which  plays  can  be  pro- 
duced. A  play  may  have  the  highest  merit,  both  literary  and 
dramatic,  and  yet  an  experienced  manager  may  not  dare  to 
bring  it  out,  for  fear  the  play  should  not  prove  popular  enough 
to  have  a  long  run.  Thus  Sir  Henry  Irving  at  first  declined  to 
bring  out  Tennyson's  Becket  (1884).  With  the  improvement  of 
the  drama  came  a  growing  tendency  to  regard  the  stage  as  a 
legitimate  profession  for  people  of  good  social  standing,  and  at 
the  same  time,  an  increasing  mitigation  of  the  old  Puritan 
antipathy  to  the  theatre. 

The  earlier  dramatists  of  this  period   may    be    briefly    men- 
Early  drama-  tioned.     Lord    Lytton    (the  elder.   1803- 1873) 

tists"  produced    Rich elieu  and   The  Lady  of  Lyons  in 

1838  and  Money  in  1840.  of  which  the  latter  two  are  still  acted. 
Jamks  R.  Planche  (1796-1880)  was  a  most  successful  playwright, 
but  his  productions  have  no  independent  literary  merit.  In  1854 
Charles  Reade  (1814- 1884)  brought  out  Masks  and  Faces,  drama- 
tised by  himself  and  Tom  Taylor  (1817-1880),  who  is  also  the 
author  of  The  Overland  Route  and  Our  American  Cousin,  m 
which  Sothern  immortalized  the  character  of  'Lord  Dundreary.' 
Dion  Boucicault  (1 820-1 890),  actor  ard  dramatist,  is  known  as 
the  author  <~>f  The  Colleen  Baivn.  One  of  the  foremost  figures 
of  this  period  is  Thomas  William  Robk.rtson  (1829- 1871). 
who  wrote  Caste,  School,  Ours,  Society,  etc.,  which  were  pro- 
duced by  Mr  and  Mrs  Bancroft.  They  are  simple  and  natural 
plays,  marked  by  Victorian  propriety  and  sentiment,  and  still1 
hold  the  stage.  Curiously  enough,  by  far  the  best  of  Robert- 
son's dramas,  David  Garrick,  which  introduced  Sothern's  most 
magnificent  impersonation,  is  a  translation  from  a  French  play, 


MODERN   LITERATURE.  7  91 

Sullivan.  Oscar  Wilde  (i  856-1 900),  a  writer  of  the  most  varied 
talents,  made  a  striking  success  with  Lady  Windermere's  Fan, 
followed  by  A  Woman  of  No  Importance  and  The  Importance 
of  being  Earnest. 

The  first  step  towards  the  renaissance  of  dramatic  writing  in 
Dramatic  rena-        England  at  this  period  was  the  gradual    disuse 

issance.  0f  jrrench  adaptations,  which  has  been  already 

alluded  to.  And  simultaneously  a  new  school  of  more  thought-' 
ful  playwrights  had  arisen,  swayed,  in  some  instances  insensib- 
ly, by  the  realistic,  satiric  drama  of  the  Norwegian  poet,  Henrik 
Ibsen,  which  profoundly  influenced  all  Europe.  One  of  his. 
plays,  A  Doll's  House,  first  performed  in  England  at  the 
Novelty  Theatre  in  1889,  rousei  a  tempest  of  criticism  ;  and,  as 
other  theatres  followed  suit,  the  new  drama  became  a  much- 
talked-of  intellectual  curiosity.  But  the  turning-point  of  our 
dramatic  renaissance  was  undoubtedly  the  production  in  May 
1893  of  The  Second  Mrs.  Tattqueray  by  Sir  Arthur  Wing 
Pinkro  (b.  1855).  Mr.  Archer  says  :  'What  Hemani  was  to 
the  romantic  movement  of  the  thirties,  and  La  Dame  aux 
Camelias  to  the  realistic  movement  of  the  fifties.  The  Second 
Airs.  Ianqueray  has  been  to  the  movement  of  the  nineties  to- 
wards the  serious  stage-portraiture  of  English  social  life. ..The 
English  acted  drama  ceased  to  be  a  merely  insular  product, 
and  took  rank  in  the  literature  of  Europe.' 

Prominent  later  plays  are    The    Case    of   Rebellious    Susan 
(1894)    and    The    Liars    (1897),    by     Henry 

Later  dramatists.        .  T  .,  0       N  ™,         A  , 

Arthur  Jones  (b.  1051);  I  he  Greatest  of 
These  (18*96)  and  The  Debt  of  Honour  (1900)  by  Sydney 
Grundy  (b.  1848)  -,  The  Little  Minister  (1897)  and  The  Wedding 
Guest  (1900)  by  James  Matthew  Barrie  (b.  i860)  ;  and  The 
Ambassador  (1898)  by  Mrs  Craigie  (John  Oliver  Hobbes) 
(1867-1906).  Stephen  Philips  (b.  1868)  stands  very  much 
alone  in  the  success  of  his  sombre  tragedy,  Herod  (1900).  A 
striking  personality  of  the  period  is  George  Bernard  Shaw 
(b.  1856),  who  has  produced  Plays  Pleasant  and  Unpleasant 
(1898),  Three  Plays  for  Puritans  (1900),  etc. 


80  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

In  novel  writing  this  period  is   dominated   by   two    authors, 
prose  literature:     Thackeray    (1813-1865)   and    Dickens    (1812- 

novehsts.  1870),  almost  as  completely  as  in  poetry  it    is 

dominated  by  Tennyson  and  Browning.  Whether  George  Eliot 
(1890-1900)  should  be  added,  remains  a  debateable  point  <v\th 
the  critics.  As  regards  the  novel,  however,  this  period  is 
characteristically  marked  off  from  all  preceding  ones  by  an 
almost  illimitable  extension  in  quantity,  due  in  a  great  measure 
to  the  vast  increase  in  the  reading  public.  The  population  has 
about  doubled,  and  education  up  to  the  reading-point  is  now 
universal,  whereas  at  the  commencement  of  our  period  the 
working  population  was  mostly  illiterate. 

We  have  already  mentioned  as  a  dramatist  (p.  76)  one  whose 
-Lytton;  Beacons-      proper    place    is  here.     Edward  George    Earle 
field-  Lytton  Bulwer,  first  Lord  Lytton  (1800- 1873) 

had  a  highly  distinguished  political  career,  and  combined    with 
this    a    literary  productiveness  greater  than  that  of  Macaulay  or 
Beaconsfield.      He  was  a  poet  of  some  merit,   especially    in    his 
translations  of  Schiller;  he  was  a  critic  and  essayist  of  consider- 
able ability ;  and  he    wrote   novels    of    every   imaginable   kind, 
some    of    which    are   probably  immortal.     The  best  known  are 
Pelham,    The  Last  Days  of  Pompeii,    Ernest   Maltravers,      The 
Last   of  the  Barons,  Harold,  and  Rienzi ;  two  weirdly  superna- 
tural ones,  Zanoni  and  A  Strange    Story ;    The    Caxions,    My 
Novel,     What    will   he    do    with    it  ?  ;   and  lastly  his  wonderful 
Utopian    satire,     The    Coming    Race.       Very    simitar    in    tneir 
genesis    were    the   novels  of    Benjamin      Disraeli,     Earl     ok 
Bk.aconskiri.d    ( 1 804- i 881).        Greater    than    Lord    Lytton    in 
politics,    he  was  inferior  in   literature.      He  produced  no  poetry 
or  dramatic  work  ;  and  his  novels,  though  excessively  clever,  are 
thinner  in  quality,  and  too  often  (as  Lothair)    but   scarcely   dis- 
guised sketches  of  his  contemporaries.    Ixion,  comparable  with 
Vathek  (i^Sy),  1  he  Infernal  Marriage,  and  Pcpanilla  are  purely 
fanciful  and  satirical  ;     Vivian  Grey,     Conins>sby,    Tancred,  and 
Sybil  are  chiefly  political,  the  last  being  a  study  of  class-antago- 
nisms— the    love    of    a    nobleman    for    a    Chartist's    daughter. 
Henrietta    T'emple    is    a    love-story ;      Veneiia    deals    with   the 


MODERN    LITERATURE.  81 

story  of  Byron  ;  and  his  best,  Endymton,  is  an  autobiographical 
allegory  centred  in  the  fortunes  of  Napoleon  III. 

Two    other    names    stand    apart.     Thomas   Love  Peacock 

Peacock;     Bor-      (1785-1866),    whose    novels,  Headlong     Hall, 

row;   'Frknkens-      Nightmare  Abbey,    Crotchet   Castle,  and  Gryll 

tern.'  ° 

Grange  are  sharply  satirical,  was  also  a  poet, 
and  wrote  some  admirable  songs.  George  Borrow  (1803- 
(1881),  an  irregular  self-taught  philologer,  who  associated  with 
the  gipsies,  has  told  us  about  them  in  his  half-autobiographical 
stories,  Lavengro  and  Romany  Rye.  He  became  a  colporteur 
to  the  Bible  Society  and  wrote  his  experiences  in  The  Bible  in 
>pain,  which  is  as  interesting  as  a  novel.  To  these  may  be 
added  the  unique  horror  of  Frankenstein  (18 18)  by  Mrs. 
Shelley  (1797-185 1).  The  hero  of  this  fantastic  romance 
discovers  the  secret  of  life,  and  creates  a  monstrous  manlike 
being,  who  thenceforth  is  the  torment  of  his  creator.  This 
central  conception  is  usually  misquoted  :  Frankenstein  is  the 
name  of  the  creator-hero,  not  of  the  created  monster. 

We  now  come  to  the  predecessors   of  George    Eliot,   three 
sisters    brought    up    by   their    father,  a  clergy- 

The  Brontes.  i-.  , 

man,  among  the  solitary  moors  round 
Haworth,  in  Yorkshire  :  Charlotte  Bronte'  (18 16-1 85 5),  Emily 
Bronte'  (1&18-1848),  and  Anne  Bronte'  (1820-1849).  The 
first  wrote  the  most  popular  and  powerful  of  all  their  novels, 
Jane  Eyre  ;  Shirley,  a  sketch  ot  her  sister  Emily,  and  a  satire 
on  her  father's  curates ;  Villette  ;  and  The  Professor,  embodying 
her  educational  experiences  in  Brussels.  Emily  wrote  a  weird 
and  powerful  novel,  Wnthering  Heights  ;  and  Anne  two  inferior 
ones,  Agnes  ■  Grey  and  The  Tenant  of  Wildfell  Hall.  All 
three  published  poems,  of  which  Emily's  have  touches  of  real 
genius.  M.  Arnold  {Haworth  Churchyard)  characterises  her 
as  one  whose  soul  'Knew  no  fellow  for  might,  Passion,  vehem- 
ence, grief,  Daring,  since  Byron  died.' 

Jane    Eyre    is   enthusiastically  praised  by  Swinburne.     Its 
story     is     as     follows.     Mr.     Rochester,   the 

'Jane  Eyre.'  J 

original  type  of  the  'ugly  hero,'  so  popular  in 
later  fiction,    is    married    to    a   wife    who  is    kept    concealed, 

6 


82  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

being  hopelessly  insane.  As  governess  to  his  daughter,  he- 
engages  Jane  Eyre,  who  falls  in  love  with  him,  believing  him 
to  be  a  widower  •,  and  when  the  truth  at  last  comes  out,  the 
struggle  between  conscience  and  passion  begins.  He  supplies 
the  element  of  sophistry  and  suggestion  of  evil ;  she  solves  the 
problem  by  quitting  him  abruptly,  and,  as  she  believes,  for 
ever.  But  the  novelist's  Providence  intervenes ;  the  insane 
wife  sets  the  house  on  fire  ;  and  Rochester  in  a  heroic  but  vain 
attempt  to  save  her  life,  becomes  a  blinded  and  solitary  widow- 
er. Jane  Eyre,  by  a  semi-miraculous  thought-transference, 
finds  out  his  situation;  bids  an  abrupt  farewell  to  her  host,  a 
clergyman  who  wishes  her  to  become  his  wife  in  order  to  help 
him  in  his  religious  work  ;  and  the  widower  and  his  ex-gover- 
ness are  happily  married  at  last. 

It  has  been  pointed  out  that  Jane  Eyre  is  the   first    instance 

of  the  'problem  novel',  which  has  tended  since 

The  'problem         to  5ecome     only    too   prominent    in  modern 

novel.  J  r 

fiction.  The  'problem  novel'  centres  its 
interest  in  the  viyid  delineation  of  some  'hard  case',  in  which 
the  violation  of  a  fundamental  moral  law  is  made  to  appear 
almost  inevitable.  But,  to  do  Charlotte  Bronte  justice,  it  must 
be  said  that  the  reader  is  never  allowed  to  be  deceived  by 
Rochester's  sophistries  ;  Jane  Eyre's  heart  may  be  wrung,  but 
her  conscience  is  adamant,  and  the  reader's  sympathies  are 
always  kept  on  the  side  of  virtue.  From  an  artistic  point  of 
view,  however,  the  merely  conventional  ending  of  Jane  Eyre  is- 
a  distinct  weakness.  The  modern  'problem  novel'  differs  from 
Jane  Eyre  chiefly  in  the  exaggeration  of  forbidden  passion, 
and  the  presentment  and  prolongation  of  scenes  of  acute 
temptation.  It  might  loosely  be  described  as  a  revised  Jane 
Eyre,  so  written  as  to  enlist  all  our  sympathies  on  Rochester's 
side,  and  to  put  the  established  moral  standards  of  society  in 
an  odious  light.  Every  sound  thinker  must  condemn  such 
novels  as  morally  pernicious  and  as  essentially  false  art. 

The    'problem    novel'  easily  develops  into  the  'novel  with  a 

The  'novel   with      purpose.'     This  is  a  novel  written  to  commend 

a  purpose,'  or     to    condemn     some   special     practice   or 


MODERN    LITERATURE.  83 

doctrine,  whether  religious,  social,  political,  or  artistic.  Of 
this  kind  are  many  of  Beaconsfield's  novels.  To  use  the 
novel  as  an  engine  for  attacking  established  beliefs  or 
customs  in  regard  to  the  relations  of  sex  is  indefensible  ;  and 
it  is  very  doubtfully  justifiable  in  regard  to  religion.  Hence 
Mrs.  Humphry  Ward's  (b.  185 1)  great  novel,  Robert  Elsmere 
(1888),  is  scarcely  legitimate,  though  if  she  could  have  con- 
trived to  murder  her  hero's  orthodoxy  behind  the  scenes 
instead  of  on  the  stage — if,  instead  of  elaborating  the  theologi- 
cal argument,  she  had  merely  delineated  its  effects  upon 
Elsmere's  thought  and  action,  her  book  would  have  been 
worthy  to  stand  at  least  beside  Romola.  But  in  all  other  cases 
this  use  of  novel  writing  is  legitimate  ;  though  most  critics 
consider  the  practice  to  be  false,  or  at  any  rate  inferior  art. 
We  now  pass  on  to  five  novelists  who  have  a  special  claim 
to  be  regarded  as    classics.     Mrs.    Elizabeth 

Mrs.  Gaskell  ;  ° 

Trollope;  Reade  ;        CLEGHORN     GasKKLL     (181O-1865),    author  of  a 
Meredith  ;  Hardy.  ,     r. 

Life  of  Charlotte  Bronte  (1857),  wrote  many 
novels,  some  of  which  have  been  translated  into  French.  Her 
first,  Mary  Barton  (1848),  a  striking  picture  of  the  war  of 
classes  in  Manchester,  was  followed  by  Ruth,  North  and  South, 
and  Sylvia  s  Lovers.  Her  masterpiece  is  Cranford,  an  exquisi- 
tely humorous  and  sympathetic  study  of  life  in  a  little,  old- 
fashioned  country  town  (Knutsford,  in  Cheshire).  Her  admira- 
able  Wives  and  Daughters  was  left  almost  finished  at  her 
death.  Anthony  Trollope  ( 1 815-1882)  wrote  a  very  large 
number  of  novels,  dealing  with  English  society.  They  are 
spiced  with  good-natured  satire  on  clerical  and  other  foibles, 
and  exactly  adapted  to  the  taste  of  his  age.  The  best  are 
The  Warden,  Barchester  Towers,  Doctor  Thome,  Framley 
Parsonage,  The  Last  Chronicle  0/  Barset,  The  Three  Clerks, 
Can  You  Forgive  Her  ?,  Phineas  Finn,  and  Phineas  Redux, 
the  last  two  dealing  with  politics.  Charles  Reade  (18 14-1884), 
novelist  and  dramatist  (p  78),  a  somewhat  eccentric  character 
but  a  true  genius,  wrote  Christie  jfohtistone  and  Foul  Play. 
His  //  is  Never  too  Late  to  Mend  is  an  indictment  of  our 
prison  system  ;   Griffith   Gaunt  is   a    study    of   jealousy.     His 


8-i  A    HANDBOOK  OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

masterpiece  is  The  Cloister  and  the  Hearth,  a  medieval 
romance,  the  hero  of  which  is  the  father  of  the  great  scholar 
Erasmus.  Gecrgk  Meredith  (1828-1909),  a  far  greater 
writer  than  any  of  the  three  preceding,  wrote  poems  of  high 
merit,  the  charm  of  which  appeals  only  to  cultivated  intellects. 
His  chief  novels  are  Evan  Harrington,  Sandra  Belloni,  Harry 
Richmond,  Beauchamp's  Career,  The  Tragic  Comedians  (hist- 
orical), One  of  oar  Conquerors,  Lord  Ormont  and  His  Aminta, 
The  Amazing  Marriage,  and  Rhoda  Fleming,  which  is  the 
easiest  to  understand.  His  best  three  are  The  Ordeal  of 
Richard  Revere/,  The  Egoist,  which  is  the  hardest  and  most 
subtle,  and  Diana  of  the  Crosswavs,  the  most  ethically  profound. 
His  earliest  story  was  a  bizarre  but  powerful  study,  in  the  style 
of  the  Arabian  Nights,  entitled  The  Shaving  of  Shagpat. 
Meredith's  style  is  'so  packed  with  concentrated  thought'  as  to 
be  often  obscure.  His  great  merit  lies  in  his  humour  united 
with  deep  feeling,  and  in  his  delightful  faculty  of  female 
portraiture.  Thomas  Hardy  (b.  1840)  is  also  a  fine  poet  as 
well  as  novelist,  and  has  written  a  powerful  drama,  The  Dynasts 
His  principal  novels  are  Under  the  Greenwood  Tree,  Far  from 
the  Madding  Crowd,  Tivo  on  a  Tower,  The  Mayor  0/  Caster- 
bridge,  The  Woodlanders,  Tess  of  the  D'  Orberville's,  a  '  novel 
with  a  purpose,'  directed  against  the  dual  standard  of  morals 
for  men  and  women.  The  other  two  classic  novelists,  who  are 
attached  to  this  group,  Kingsley  (181 9- 1875)  and  Stevenson 
(1 850-1 894),  are  separately  discussed. 

To    give    a    complete    classification    of   the    vast  multitude 
Classification  of      °^  m°dern    novels  within  the  limits  available  is 

novels-  obviously  impossible.     All   that    is    attempted 

here  is  to  make  a  selection  of  the  best  writers,  and  to  specify 
one  best  known  or  most  characteristic  work  of  each.  In  cases 
where  more  than  one  novel  is  attributed  to  an  author,  the  appro- 
priate letter  showing  the  class  to  which  it  belongs  is  appended 
to  such  addition.     Novels  may  be  divided  into    six   classes1  :  — 

1  These  classes  necessarily  overlap  one  another  :  thus  The  Heart  of 
Midlothian  is  both  Historic  and  Domestic.  The  classification  is  accord- 
ing to  the  predominant  character  of  the  novel.  Novelists  previously 
mentioned  are  not  included  here. 


MODERN    LITERATURE.  85 

(A)  The     Domestic    or    Society     novel,     dealing     with 
ordinary  life  ;  as  those  of  Jane  Austen  or  Trollope. 

(B)  The    novel    of    Adventure  :  whether    (i)  possible,  as 

Robinson      Crusoe;  or     (2)    merely     imaginary,     as 
Peter   Wilkins. 

(C)  The  novel  with  a  Purpose  (pp.  82-83). 

(D)  The  Utopian  novel ;  as  Harrington's  Oceana    (p.  87}- 
(D)   The  Satiric  novel  ;  as  Gulliver's  Travels  (p.  87). 

(F)   The  Historic  novel  ;  as  most  of  Scott's  (p.  87). 

(A)  :  —  Ten    Thousand  a    Year    (184  1),  by  Samuel  Warren  ; 

(A)  The  Domes-      ^ost  S*r  Massingberd  (1864),  by  James  Payn  ; 

tic  novel.  A  £augnter  0f  Heth  ( 1 87 1 )  by  William  Black  ; 

The  Heir  of  Redely ffe  and  The  Prince  and  the  Page  (1884) 
(F),  by  Charlotte  M.  Yonge  ;  The  Woman  in  White  (i860), 
by  William  Wilkie  Collins;  Guy  Livingstone  (1857).  by  George 
Alfred  Lawrence;  John  Halifax,  Gentleman  (1857),  by  Mrs. 
Craik  (Miss  D.  M.  Mulock) ;  Frank  Fairleigh  (1850),  by 
Francis  E.  Smedley  ;  Tom  Brown's  School  Days  (1856).  by 
Thomas  Hughes;  Verdant  Green  (1853),  by  Edward  Bradley 
('Cuthbert  Bede')  ;  The  Golden  Butterfly  (1871),  by  James  Rice 
and  Sir  Walter  Besant  ;  The  Autobiography  of  Mark  Rutherford 
(1885),  by  William  Hale  White;  Kate  Coventry  (1856),  by 
G.  J.  Whyte  Melville;  East  Lynne  (i86t),  by  Mrs  Henry 
Wood;  Lady  Audley's  Secret  ([862),  by  Mrs  Maxwell  (Miss 
Braddon);  Ask  Mamma  (1858),  by  Robert  S.  Surtees ;  The 
Lord  of  the   Harvest    (1899),    by    Miss    Betham    Edwards;    A 

Window  in  Thrums  (1889),  by  J.  M.  Barrie  ;  The  Deemster 
(1888),  by  Hall  Caine  ;  The  Simple  Adventures  of  a  Mem  Sahib 
(1903),  by  Mrs  Everard  Cotes  ;  The  Choir  Invisible  (1897),  by 
J.  Lane  Allen  ;  The  Secret  of  Narcirse  (1892),  by  Edmund 
Gosse  ;  The  Lilac  Sunbonnet  (1894),  by  Samuel  Rutherford 
Crockett;  Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush  (1894),  by  the  Rev. 
John  Watson  ('Ian  Maclaren')  ;  The  Delectable  Duchy  (1893) 
and  Dead  Man's  Rock  (1887)  (Bi),  by  A.  T.  Quiller  Couch; 
A  Bride  from  the  Bush  (1890),  by  Ernest  W.  Hornung  ;  To 
London  Town  (1899),  by    Arthur    Morrison;    The   New    Grub 


86  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

St.  ( 1 891 ),  by  George  Gissing  ;  Children  of  the  Ghetto  (1892), 
bv  Israel  Zangwill ;  Little  Novels  of  Italy  (1899)  and  Richard 
Yea  and  Nay  (T900)  (F),  by  Maurice  H.  Hewlett;  The  Inimit- 
able Mrs.  Massingham  (1900),  by  Herbert  E.  Compton  ;  The 
Wages  of  Sin  (1891),  by  Lucas  Malet  (Miss  Harrison,  daughter 
of  Charles  Kingsley)  ;  Concerning  Isabel  Carnaby  (1898),  by 
Miss  Ellen  Thorneycroft  Fowler  ;  Aunt  Anne  (1893),  by  Mrs. 
W.  K.  Clifford;  An  Open  Question  (1898),  by  Elizabeth 
Robins  (Mrs.  C.  E.  Raimond)  (Amer.)  ;  Irish  Idylls  (1892),  by 
Miss  Jane  Barlow ;  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy  (:886i,  by  Mrs. 
Frances  Hodgson  Burnett  ;  The  Cigarette-maker's  Romance 
(1890),  by  Marion  Crawford  (A met.)  ;  Ships  that  Pass  in  the 
Night  (1893),  by  Miss  Beatrice  Harraden  ;  Th'  Insane  Root 
{1901),  by  Mrs.  Campbell  Fraed ;  Richard  Carvell  (1899',  by 
Winston  Churchill  (Amer.);  The  Silence  of  Dean  Maitland 
(1886),  by  Maxwell  Gray  (Miss.  M.  A.  Tutiett)  ;  Red  Pottage 
(1899),  bv  Miss  Mary  Cholmondley;  Children  of  the  Mist  (1896), 
by  Eden  Philpotts ;  By  Moor  and  Fell  (1900),  by  Halliwell 
Sutcliffe  ;  The  Sowers  (1896),  by  Henry  Seton  Merriman  (Hugh 
Stowell  Scott);  Mr.  Smith  (1845),  by  Mrs.  L.  B.  Walford. 

(Br)  :—Lorna  Boone  (1869),  by  Richard  D.  Blackmore; 
<bd  The  novel  of  Th°-  Scalp  Hunters  (1851),  by  MayneReid; 
Adventure  (real.)  The  Cruise  o/  the  Cachalot  (1857),  by  Frank 
T.  Bullen;  God  afid  the  Man  (1881),  by  Robert  Buchanan  (also 
a  poet  and  a  dramatist);  Confessions  of  a  Thug  (1839),  by 
Meadows  Taylor  ;  Robbery  under  Arms  (1888),  by  Rolf  Bold- 
rewood  ( T.  A.  Browne)  (Australian);  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda 
(1894),  by  Anthony  Hope  (A.  H.  Hawkins);  In  Royal  Purple 
(1899),  by  William  Pigott  ;  Sherlock  Holmes  (1892),  and 
Micah  Clarke  (1888)  (F),  by  Sir  Arthur  Conan  Doyle  ;  Siren 
City  (1899),  by  Benjamin  Swift  (Mr.  W.  R.  Pateison) ;  The 
Last  of  the  Mohicans  (1826),  by  James  Fenimore  Cooper 
(Amer.);  Paved  with  Gold  (1858),  by  Augustus  Mayhew; 
'fhe  Broom-Squire  (1896),  by  S.  Baring-Gould  ;  The  Secret  in 
the  Hill  (1903),  by  Bernard  Capes  ;  Over  the  Border  (1903), 
by  Robert  Barr  ;  A  Welsh  Witch  (1901),  by  Allen  Raine 
(Mrs.  Beynon  Puddicombe). 


MODERN   LITERATURE.  87 

(B2):— She  (1887),  by  Henry  Rider  Haggard;  The  War  0/ 
nx.TU  the    Worlds   (1898),    by    H.    G.    Wells;    Vice 

<B2)    The     novel  v       '    '  J 

of  Adventure  (im-  Versa  (1  882),  by  F.  Anstey  (Thomas  Anstey 
Guthrie);  Alice  in  Wonderland  (1865),  by 
Lewis  Carroll  (Charles  L.  Dodgson)  ;  The  Beleaguered  City 
and  Chronicles  of  Carlingford  (1862-6)  (A),  by  Mrs.  Margaret 
Oliphant ;  The  Marble  Faun  (i860),  by  Nathaniel  Hawthorne 
(Amer.);  At  the  Back  of  the  North  Wind  (1870).  and  Robert 
Falconer  (i863)  (A)  by  George  Macdonald ;  Mopsa  the  Fairy 
(1869),  by  Miss  Jean  Ingelow  (also  a  poetess  of  merit). 

(C)  : — Uncle  Toms  Cabin  (1S52),  by  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 

(Amer.);  All   Sorts   and    Conditions   of   Men 

wUnaTpuVpos°eVel  ('882)>  b.v  Sir  Walter  Besant ;  The  True 
History  of  Joshua  Davidson  (1872),  by  Mrs. 
Lynn  Linton  ;  No.  J,  John  Street  (1899),  by  Richard  Whiteing  ; 
The  Heavenlv  Tzvins  (1893),  by  Madame  Sarah  Grand  (Mrs. 
MacFall) ;  The  Story  of  an  African  Farm  ( 1883),  by  Olive 
Schreiner  (Mrs.  Cronwright  Schreiner)  ;  The  Mighty  Atom 
(1896),  by  Marie  Corelli. 

(D)  :  —  Erewhon    (  =  'Nowhere'    transposed),    by    S.Butler; 

Neivs    from     Nowhere    (1891),     by     William 

<D)  noveKt0pian      Morris     /1834-1896);      The     Crystal     Age; 
Looking  Backward  (1888),  by  Edward  Bellamy 

^Amer.);  A  Traveller  from  Altruria  and  A  Foregone  Conclusion 

(1874)  (A),  by  W.  D.  Howells  (Amer.) 

(Ej  : — Dodo  (1893),  °y  E.  F.  Benson;   The    Green    Carna- 
tion   (1894),    Flames    (1897)    (B2),    and    The 

(E'  Tnoeve3|atiriC         Garden    of  Allah     (1904)     (Bi),    by     Robert 
Hichens ;     The    New    Republic    (1877),      by 

William  H.  Mallock;    Uncle  Remus  (1880),    by    Jotl    Chandler 

Harris  ^Amer.). 

(F) : — Under  the  Red  Robe  (1894),  by  Stanley  J.    Weyman; 
A    Monk   of  Fife    (1896),   by    Andrew    Lang 

lF)  TnoeveriSt°riC      (1844);    The  Dilemma  (1876),  by  Sir   George 
Chesney ;  Jack    Hinton    (1841),    by    Charles 

Lever;   On  the  Face  of  the  Waters  (1896),   by  Mrs.  Flora  Annie 

Steel;   The   Forest   Lovers  (1898),  by  Maurice  Hewlett;  Forest 


88  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Days  (1843),  by  G.  P.  R.  James;  The  Gathering  of  Brother 
Hilarius  (1901),  by  Michael  Fairless  ;  Prince  and  the  Pauper 
(18S0),  by  Mark  Twain  (S.  L.  Clemens)  (Amer.) ;  The  Seats  of 
the  Mighty  (1896),  by  Sir  Gilbert  Parker;  Clementina  (1901) 
and  A  Romance  of  Wastdale  (1895^  (Bi),  by  A.  E.  W.  Mason; 
A  Mediaeval  Garland  (1897),  by  Madame  J.  Darmesteter  (Mary 
F.  Robinson)  ;    Citoyenne  Jacqueline  (1865),  by  Sarah  Tytler. 

Fraser's  Magazine  was  started  in  London,  about  1830,  chieflv 

by  William  Maginn  (1793-1842),  who  gather- 

sSsMlSSne™       ed  round  him  a  brilliant  staff,    including    such 

eminent  writers  as  Carlyle,    Hogg,    Coleridge, 

Thackeray,  and  Southey.     Francis  Sylvestkr  Mahonky  (1804- 

1866)  a  witty  Irishman,  educated  for  the  priesthood,    which    he 

relinquished  for  journalism  and  poetry   (his  Bells  of  Shandon  is 

a    well-known    piece),    contributed    under    the    pseudonym    of 

'Father  Prout.' 

The  genesis  of  the  weekly  journal    in  Household  Words  and 

its  successor,  All  the  Year  Round,   bv  Dickens 

Revie^/tU'The         's    described  elsewhere  (p.  443).     By  means  of 

Spectator.'  these  periodicals  Dickens  trained  up  a  staff   of 

young  journalists,  who  caught  something  of  his  st\le  and  manner 

of  treatment ;   chief  among  them  being  Wilkie  Collins.     But  The 

Saturday  Revieiv,  started  in  1855,  and  The  Spectator    in    1828, 

have    hecome    more    permanent    and    influential.     The  former 

maintains  a  reputation  for  a  satirical    intolerance    of    everything 

shallow  or  sentimental  ;  its  tone  is    independently  Conservative. 

The    latter    made    a    great    mark    under   the  editorship  of  the 

brilliant  essayist,  Richard  Holt  Hutton  (1862-1879),  and  has 

always  been  admired  for  its  thoughtfulness  and  honesty. 

The  next  step  in  the    popularization    of    literature    was    the 
Cheaper   maga-      introduction    of   cheaper   magazines,  to  do  the 
zmes-  work  of  Blackwood  and  Fraser  for  one  shilling 

instead  of  half-a  crown,  and,  with  a  less  decided  political  bias, 
to  appeal  to  a  wider  class  of  readers.  These  were  The  Cornhill 
Magazine  edited  by  Thackeray  (1813-1865  see  p.  438)  and  Mac- 
mil/an's  Magazine,  commenced  about  a  month  before  the  former. 
The  Cornhill,  says  Morley,  began  the    fashion    of    introducing 


MODERN    LITERATURE.  89 

illustrations,  which  has  since  become  very  popular.  The 
profusely  illustrated  Strand  Magazine  (1891)  for  sixpence, 
with  a  host  of  others  some  at  cheaper  rates,  is  the  modern  out- 
come of  this  popularizing  process. 

The    lighter    style     of    these    magazines,    which     excluded 
„    .  weighty  articles  such  a^  used  to  appear  in    the 

Popular  Reviews.  °      J  rr 

old  Quarterlies,  probably  led  to  the  publica- 
tion of  monthly  Reviews  of  a  type  midway  between  the  two.  The 
For{ni?htly  Revieiv  was  founded  by  G.  H.  Lewes  (1817-1878) 
on  the  model  of  the  French  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  ;  it  soon 
however  became  monthly,  though  it  retained  its  old  title. 
The  Contemporary  Review  and  The  Nineteenth  Century  (1877) 
followed  ;  the  latter  having  now  necessarily  changed  its  title  to 
The  Nineteenth  Century  and  After.  All  three  are  sold  for 
half-a-crown.  Thev  do  not  necessarilv  exclude  fiction.  The 
Westminster  Review  is  referred  to  elsewhere  (pp.  468-469). 

Of    non-political     weekly     periodicals    the    oldest    is    The 
weekly  Non-poii-      Athenaeum     (1828).      The    Academy    followed 

ticai  papers.  (111869,    on    more     modern    lines,    especially 

as  regards  the  signing  of  review  articles.  The  Times  newspaper 
publishes  a  literary  supplement  every  Thursday  ;  and  most  of 
the  better  class  daily  papers  contain  special  columns  devoted 
to  critical  notices  of  new  books.  These  are  often  signed,  and 
are  usually  by  writers  of  established   reputation. 

One    of    the    most    remarkable    results  of  cheap  paper  and 

The  half-penny  printing  has  been  the  creation  of  the  half- 
press,  penny  daily  paper.  This  was  started  in  1896 
by  The  Daily  Mail,  and  several  of  the  other  daily  papers 
followed  suit.  The  ultimate  effect  on  literature  of  this  cheap 
journalism  is  hard  to  predict.  In  order  to  win  popularity,  its 
tendency  is  to  appeal  to  the  passions  rather  than  to  the  reason 
of  its  readers,  and  it  is  tempted  to  sacrifice  truth  to  sensationa- 
lism ;  on  the  other  hand  it  gives  a  wide  circulation  to  literature 
of  considerable  merit.  For  these  papers  often  contain  signed 
articles  by  men  of  mark  in  the  literary  world,  descriptions  of 
current  events,  criticisms  of  books,  or  Nature-studies. 


90  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

One  result  of  this  development  of  periodical    literature   has 
Prose  been  to  encourage  rising  young  men  of  talent 

to  devote  themselves  to  critical  and  reflective 
work.  They  have  thus  in  modified  forms  carried  on  the  tradi- 
tions of  Addison  and  Johnson.  Among  these  we  may  note — 
George  Brimley  (1819-1857),  Librarian  of  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge,  who  helped  to  make  Tennyson  known  to  the 
thoughtful  public  ;  Henry  H.  Lancaster  (1829-1875),  an 
Edinburgh  lawyer,  who  did  much  the  same  good  office  for 
Thackeray  ;  Walter  Bagehot  (1826-1877),  a  banker,  econo- 
mist, and  general  critic;  Dr.  John  Brown  (1810-1882),  an 
Edinburgh  physician,  author  of  Horcc  SubsecivcE,  in  which  ap- 
peared the  delightful  Rab  and  His  Friends  (1859),  a  study  of 
dog  life  ;  Sir  Arthur  Helps  (pp.  478-483;  ;  Matthew  Arnold 
(pp.  478-483).  John  Ruskin  (pp.  474-476)  ;  John  Richard 
Jefferies  (1848-1887),  a  Nature-observer  of  wonderful 
delicacy,  whose  best-known  books  are  The  Game  Keeper  at 
Home  (1878),  and  The  Amateur  Poacher  (1880).  Among  later 
critics  may  be  mentioned  Richard  Garnett  (1835-1906), 
translator,  verse-writer,  and  biographer  ;  John  Churton 
Collins  (1 848-1 908),  who  wrote  Illustrations  of  Tennyson 
(1891)  and  Essays  and  Studies  (1895);  Theodore  Watts- 
Dunton  (b.  1832).  author  of  Aylwin  (1898)  ;  Hakry  Buxton 
Forman  (b.  1842),  who  has  edited  Shelley's  works  ;  Edward 
Dowden  (b.  1843).  author  of  Shakspere,  his  Mind  and  Art 
(1875)  and  Studies  in  Literature  (187S);  Andrew  Lang  (b.  1844), 
a  voluminous  writer  on  historical  subjects  and  a  graceful  poet. 
Under  the  combined  influences  of  Arnold  and  Ruskin  there 
/Esthetic  arose    a   new    school   of     criticism,    at      one 

school  of  literary  and  aesthetic,  of  which  the  two  earliest 

critics.  J 

and  most  influential  examples  were  Walter 
Horatio  Pater  (1839-1 894),  whose  best  and  most  characteristic 
work  is  Marius  the  Epicurean  ;  and  John  Addington  Symonds 
(1840-18^3),  a  profuse  writer  both  of  prose  and  verse. 
William  Minto  (1846-1893)  Professor  of  Logic  and  Literature 
at  Aberdeen,  less  'aesthetic'  in  his  outlook  and  less  florid  in  his 
style,  did  good  critical  work  as  editor  of  The  Examiner,  and  con- 


MODERN    LITERATURE.  91 

tributor  to  The  Daily  News.     This  school  may  be  said  to  have 

reached    its  fullest  development  in  Oscar  Wilde  (1855-1900). 

The  revolutionary    influence  upon  our    literature  of  the  two 

_  .  _.  great  scientific  lights,    Lyell  and    Darwin,  has 

Science  ;  Cham-        °  °  J 

bers;  Miller;         been  already  referred  to  (p.  71).      Some  lesser 

Tyndall  ;  Huxley.  _  '  vr     '     ' 

lights,  who  had  however  more  literary  merit, 
may  be  briefly  adverted  to.  Robert  Chambers  (i8o2-'87i), 
the  younger  of  the  two  celebrated  Edinburgh  publishers, 
brought  out  anonymously  The  Vestiges  of  Creation,  a  half- 
poetical,  popular  anticipation  of  the  Evolution  theory  of 
Darwin.  Hugh  Miller  (1802- 1856),  a  Cromarty  stone-mason 
and  practical  geologist,  took  the  field  against  him  as  champion 
of  orthodoxy.  His  Old  Red  Sandstone  is  his  most  scientific 
and  interesting  work  ;  but  his  Testimony  of  the  Rocks  is  histori- 
cally more  important,  being  an  exposition  of  the  'six  days' 
creation  of  Genesis  as  six  prophetic  visions  seen  by  Moses, 
each  corresponding  to  a  separate  geologic  period  of  incalcul- 
able length  ;  an  explanation  which  was  accepted  as  Biblically 
sound.  Widely  different  were  the  two  great  champions  of  pure- 
ly scientific  thought,  Tyndall  and  Huxley,  who  followed,  as  the 
last  mentioned  pair  preceded,  the  rise  of  Darwinism.  John 
Tyndall  (1820-1893)  was  a  hard-working,  scientific  discoverer, 
and  a  useful  lecturer  at  the  Royal  Institution.  His  lectures  on 
Sound  are  a  typical  example  of  a  vast  amount  of  literary  work 
at  once  popular  and  accurately  scientific.  Thomas  Henry 
Huxley  (1825- 1895)  was  an  eminent  biologist,  a  writer  of 
brilliant  monographs  and  essays,  and  a  stalwart  defender  of  the 
theory  of  Evolution. 

The  following  are  the  chief  historians  of  this  period. 
Patrick  Fraskr  Tyler  (1791-1849)  wrote  a 
History  of  Scotland  which  is  still  authoritative. 
Sir  Archibald  Alison  (1792-1867)  composed  a  diffuse 
History  of  Europe  in  ten  volumes.  Henry  Hart  Milman 
{1  791-1868),  Professor  of  Poetry  at  Oxford,  wrote  The  History 
of  Christianity  to  the  Abolition  of  Paganism,  but  his  master- 
piece is  The  History  of  Latin  Christianity.  Thomas  Arnold 
(1795-1842),  Headmaster  of  Rugby,    and    Regius   Professor  of 


92  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Modern  History  at  Oxford,  is  author  of  a  scholarly  History  of 
Rome.  Harriet  Martineau  (1802- 1876)  wrote  several  books 
of  travel  and  a  History  of  England'  during  the  Thv ty  Years' 
Peace,  1816-1846.  Charles  Merivalk  (1808-1S94),  a  minor 
poet,  ranks  high  as  a  historian  with  his  History  of  the  Romans 
under  the  Empire.  Alexander  Kinglake  (i8r  1-1891),  author 
of  Eothen,  a  brilliant  book  of  Eastern  travel,  brought  out  a 
lengthv  and  strongly  partizan.  hut  vividly  written  Historv  of  the 
Invasion  of  the  Crimea  (1 863-1 887).  John  Forster  (1 81  2- 
1S76)  wrote  Lives  of  Goldsmith,  Landor,  and  Dickens,  and 
historical  studies  of  the  Rebellion  ;  his  best  being  The  Arrest 
of  the  Five  -Members.  Henry  Thomas  Buckle  (i8?3-i862) 
produced  two  volumes  of  a  projected  but  incomplete  History 
of  Civilisation  in  Europe.  Though  stimulating  and  vigorous, 
it  is  not  of  much  permanent  value.  Edward  Augustus  Free- 
man (1 823-1 892),  Regius  Professor  of  Modern  History  at 
Oxford,  devoted  himself  chiefly  to  the  study  of  early  English 
history,  which  bore  fruit  in  The  History  of  the  Norman  Con- 
guest,  his  most  important  work.  John  Richard  Green  (1837- 
1883 1  was  Freeman's  best  pupil,  and  like  his  master  wrote 
frequently  for  'The  Saturday  Review.'  His  Short  History  of 
the  English  People  is  admirable  both  for  its  charm  of  style, 
and  still  more  for  the  stress  he  lays  upon  the  social  and 
industrial  aspects  of  history.  Philip  Henry,  5TH  Earl  Stanhope 
(Lord  Mahon)(  1805- 1875)  wrote  The  War  of  Succession  in  Spain 
and  a  still  more  important  History  of  Europe  from  the  Peace  of 
Utrecht  to  the  Peace  of  Versailles.  Goldwin  Smith  (1823-1910) 
is  the  author  of  Three  English  Statesmen  and  Lectures  on 
the  Study  of  History.  James  Bkyce  (b.  1838)  is  well-known 
as  a  writer  for  his  Holy  Roman  Empire.  Justin  Huntly 
Macarthy  (b.  1830^,  an  Irish  politician,  has  written  a  History  of 
Our  Ozvn  Times  and  a  large  number  of  novels.  Macaulay 
(pp.  409-4 1  3),  Carlyle  (405-407)  and  Froudf.  (pp.  461-463)  are 
separately  treated. 

Of    the    philosophic    writers  after   Bentham  in  this  century, 
Philosophy  and      John    Stuart    Mill    (1806-1873)    stands  un- 

Theology  ;  Mill;  ,        ,  ,      ,,        r  ,  .  ...  ,     , 

Hamilton.  doubtedly    first,  for  the    combination  of  clear- 


MODERN    LITERATURE.  93 

ness  of  statement  with  exactitude  of  reasoning.  His  chief  work 
is  a  A  System  of  Logic,  and  next  to  it  his  Pnlitical  Economy. 
Lastly,  his  Examination  of  Sir  William  Hamilton  s  Philosophy 
completes  the  cycle  of  his  philosophical  teaching.  But  his 
shorter  essays  on  Liberty  and  on  Representative  Government 
are  of  more  popular  value,  and  his  Subjection  of  Women  is 
a  landmark  in  the  history  of  a  subject  of  great  and  growing 
importance.  His  Autobiography  is  an  interesting  revelation 
of  the  struggles  of  a  really  poetic  and  religious  soul  with  the 
hampering  environment  of  an  education  that  deliberately 
excluded  everything  but  the  merely  intellectual  and  material- 
istic. Sir  William  Hamilton  (i 788-1 856),  was  Professor  of 
Logic  and  Metaphysics  at  Edinburgh.  He  has  a  great  reputa- 
tion as  advocate  of  the  'Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned,'  a 
development  of  the  'Scotch  philosophy'  of  Reid,  to  some  extent 
on  the  lines  of  Kant,  the  great  German  philosopher,  author  of 
the  Critique  of  the  Pure  Reason.  Hamilton  carried  on  systema- 
tically the  work,  begun  by  Coleridge  and  De  Quincey,  of 
familiarizing  English  thinkers  with  German  metaphysics.  But 
unfortunately  his  style  is  against  him.  He  must  not  be  con- 
founded with  Sir  William  Rowan  Hamilton,  astronomer  and 
mathematician,  who  invented  Quaternions. 

Professor   Thomas    Spencer   Baynes    (1823-1887),  a  jour- 
nalist, a  Shakespearean    scholar,  and  editor  of 

Baynes  ;  Ferrier  ;  _ 

Mansei ;  Spencer.  the  Encyclopaedia  Bri/annica  ;  and  James  Fre- 
derick Ferrier  (1808-1864)  who  wrote  the  Institutes  of  Meta- 
physics, were  both  disciples  of  Hamilton.  But  his  most 
distinguished  follower  was  Henry  Longuevillk  Mansel 
(1820-1871),  Dean  of  St  Paul's,  who  wrote  some  important 
metaphysical  works,  but  made  his  mark  chiefly  by  his  Bampton 
Lectures  on  The  Limitations  of  Religious  Thought,  which  were 
regarded  as  the  profoundest  defence  of  orthodoxy  since  the 
publication  of  Butler's  Analogy  (1736).  The  most  noteworthy 
attempt  to  produce  a  system  of  philosophy  which  should  har- 
monise with  the  entire  range  of  the  doctrine  of  Evolution  is  to 
be  found  in  the  life  work  of  Herbert  Spencer  (1820- 1903). 
His     chief     productions     are     First    Principles,      Principles 


94  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

of     Biology,   of    Sociology     and   of  Ethics.      His    books   on 
Education  and  The  Study  of  Sociology  are  interesting  studies. 
William    Archer    Butler    (1814-1848),  with  his  scholarly 
History    of  Ancient    Philosophy,  and  George 

Minor  writers.  -^  '    ",  ' 

Henry  Lewes  (1817-1878)  with  his  more 
popular  Biographical  History  of  Philosophy,  did  good  work  on 
the  literature  of  this  subject.  Richard  Whately  (1787-1863), 
Archbishop  of  Dublin,  best  known  by  his  Logic  and  Rhetoric, 
was  strongly  Liberal  in  religion  as  in  politics.  But  he  was 
fundamentally  orthodox,  and  his  Historic  Doubts  relative  to 
Napoleon  Bonaparte  cleverly  caricatured  Rationalistic  assaults 
on  the  authenticity  of  Biblical  records.  He  was  succeeded  in 
the  archbishopric  by  Richard  Chevenix  Trench  (1807-1886), 
a  minor  poet  and  theologian,  author  of  thoughtful  and  well- 
written  treatises  on  the  Miracles  and  the  Parables  of  the 
Gospels,  as  well  as  a  suggestive  book,  The  Study  of  Words. 
William  Whewell  (1794-1866),  Master  of  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge,  wrote  the  History  of  the  Inductive  Sciences,  and 
afterwards  their  Philosophy  ;  a  Bridgewater  treatise  on  Astro- 
nomy and  Physics  in  Reference  to  Natural  Philosophy  ;  and, 
what  is  most  important  in  its  bearings  on  theology,  Plurality 
of  Worlds,  in  which,  in  opposition  to  the  then  popular  theory 
of  'myriads  of  adoring  inhabitants  in  every  planet  and  round 
every  star',  he  showed  that  all  accurate  scientific  analogies  are 
against  that  belief.  This  special  study  has  been  carried  on 
in  accordance  with  the  most  advanced  astronomical  knowledge, 
but  from  a  non-religious  standpoint,  by  Alfred  Russel 
Wallace  (b.  1822)  in  Alan's  Place  in  the  Universe  (1903)  and 
Is  Mars  Habitable?  (1907).  Wallace  independently  dis- 
covered the  epoch-making  theory  of  Natural  Selection  along 
with  Darwin.  We  close  the  list  with  James  Hinton  (i  822- 
1875),  chief  aural  surgeon  at  Guy's  Hospital,  London,  who 
gave  up  a  lucrative  practice  to  devote  himself  to  philosophic 
thought.  His  fundamental  work  is  Man  and  his  Dwelling-place, 
in  which  he  maintains  that,  contrary  to  our  sense-impressions, 
the  material  universe  is  really  spiritual,  its  assumed  deadness 
being  merely  the  projection  outwards  of  our  own  spiritual  death. 


MODERN    LITERATURE.  95 

Wordsworth  anticipated  Hinton  without  knowing  it,  and 
TennvsDn  has  concisely  summed  up  this  doctrine  in  The  Higher 
Pantheism  (1869).  Another  smaller  book  of  Hinton's,  7 he 
Mystery  of  Pain,  is  valuable  and  suggestive. 

The  great  theological  movement  of   this   century    is    some- 
_.     _  ,  times  called  the  'Oxford   movement'    from    its 

The  Oxford 

movement: Pusey;      place    of    origin  ;    sometimes    the    'Tractarian 

Keble  ;  Newman.  r  ° 

movement'  from  the  machinery  for  its  pro- 
paganda, Tracts  for  the  Times;  and  sometimes  the  Catholic 
revival  from  its  Catholic  tendencies.  Its  great  leader  was 
Edward  Bouverik  Pusey  (1 800-1 882)  Regius  Professor  of 
Hebrew  at  Oxford,  who  published  Sermons,  and  an  Eirenicon 
in  support  of  the  union  of  England  with  Rome  on  a  non-papal 
basis.  The  poet-laureate  of  the  movement  was  John  Keble 
(1792-1866),  an  earnest  country  clergyman  whose  famous 
Christian  Fear  (1827)  led  to  his  appointment  as  Professor  of 
Poetry  at  Oxford.  In  1846  he  brought  out  another  book  of 
poems,  Lyra  Innocentium.  As  a  writer  of  sacred  verse  he 
ranks  with  George  Herbert  and  Christina  Rossetti.  John 
Henry  Newman  (1 801-1890),  poet  and  theologian,  was  the 
boldest  of  the  Tractarians ;  but  in  1845  he  entered  the  Church 
of  Rome  and  in  1879  was  made  a  Cardinal.  His  finest  poem 
is  The  Drea?n  of  Gerontius.  His  best-known  prose  work  is 
his  remarkable  Apologia  pro  Vita  Sua,  which  was  the  outcome 
of  his  controversy  with  C.  Kingsley  (pp.  464-466).  Newman  is 
one  of  the  great  masters  of  style.  Those  who  wish  to  appraise 
the  real  worth  of  his  subtle  dialectics  should  study  Philomvthus 
by  Edwin  A.  Abbott  (b  1838).  The  history  of  the  Oxford 
movement  has  been  sympathetically  written  by  Dean  Church 
(1815-1890). 

The  opponents  of  the  movement  in  Oxford  itself  were    the 
following:.     Arthur  Penrhyn  Stanley  (1815- 

Its  opponents.  .  J 

188  0,  Dean  of  Westminster,  a  pupil  of  Arnold 
and  like  him  latitudinarian,  is  author  among  many  other  works 
of  Sinai  and  Palestine,  and  of  The  Life  of  Dr.  Arnold,  one  of 
the  great  biographies  of  the  language.  Mark  Pattison  (18 13  - 
1884),  Rector  of  Lincoln    College,    at   first   belonged  to,    but 


96  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

afterwards  deserted,  the  movement.  He  contributed  to  the 
famous  Essays  and  Reviews  (an  important  volume  of  theolo- 
gical contributions  by  diffeient  thinkers,  publ.  i860),  and  wrote 
the  Milton  volume  in  the  'English  Men  of  Letters'  series. 
Benjamin  Jowett  (181 7-1 893),  Master  of  Balliol  College, 
Oxford,  and  Regius  Professor  of  Greek,  also  contributed  to 
Essajs  and  Reviews,  but  did  better  work  by  his  scholarly 
translations  of  Plato,    Thucydides,  and  Aristotle. 

A    later    renaissance    of    the    'Catholic  Revival'  with  strong- 

Modem   theoio-      views  on  the  need  of  social  reform  began  with 
£ ians :   A^!iuri.ce '      Frederick     Denison    Maurice    (180=5-1872), 

Gore;     Adderley  ;  v  J    "J/"/» 

Seeiey  ;       Drum-      one  of  Coleridge's  disciples,  and    an    intimate 

mond. 

friend  of  both  Kingsley  and  Tennyson. 
Charles  Gore  (b.  1835),  Bishop  of  Birmingham,  who  edited 
and  contributed  to  Lux  Mundi,  a  collection  of  essays  setting 
forth  the  doctrines  of  this  school,  is  its  most  representative 
leader.  James  Adderley  ,b.  1 861)  has  published  Catholicism 
of  the  Church  of  England,  and  several  'novels  with  a  purpose' 
(pp.  S2-83),as  Stephen  Remarx,  Behold  the  Days  Come,  in  which 
his  views  are  made  very  readable.  Sir  John  Robert  Seeley 
(1884 — 1895)  brought  out  anonymously  in  1866  his  Ecce 
Homo,  which  made  a  great  sensation  in  the  religious  world, 
and,  in  1S82,  Natural  Religion,  an  attempt  to  make  Chris- 
tianity independent  of  miracles.  Hrnry  Drummond  (1851- 
1897)  created  a  somewhat  similar  sensation  by  his  Natural 
Law  in  the  Spiritual  World  (1883),  a  book  in  which  he  pre- 
supposes an  absolute  break  of  continuity  between  the  organic 
and  the  inorganic  world — a  presumption  which  no  real  Evolu- 
tionist would  admit.  His  later  work,  The  Ascent  of  Man, 
forms  an  admirable  complement  to  Darwin's  half-truth,  The 
Descent  of  Man. 

Henry    Parry    Liddon  (1829 — 1890),  Canon  of  St.  Paul's, 

other  theological      was  an  a^'e  and  eloquent  preacher,    who    un- 

wnters.  sparingly  denounced  Lux  Mundi.     His    chief 

work    is    the    Bampton  Lectures  on  The  Divinity  of  Our  Lord. 

Henry  Alkord  (i8io — 1871)  Dean  of   Canterbury,    poet   and 

editor  of  The    Contemporary    Review,    produced    an    excellent 


MODERN    LITERATURE.  97 

annotated  edition  of  the  Greek  Testament.  Brooke  Foss 
Wkstcott  (1825 — 1901),  Bishop  of  Durham,  in  his  Gospel  of 
the  Resurrection,  and  Dr.  William  Sanday  (b.  1843)  in  The 
Fourth  Gospel  and  The  Oracles  of  God,  have  ably  defended 
the  claims  of  supernatural  Christianity.  Among  Free  Church- 
men two  names  may  be  mentioned,  each  typical  of  a  special 
stream  of  tendency.  Charles  Haddon  Spurgeon  (1834— 
1892),  a  Baptist  minister,  and  the  greatest  preacher  of  modern 
times,  wrote  The  Treasury  of  David,  John  Ploughman's 
Pictures,  and  his  Plain  Talk.  His  Sermons  were  published 
weekly,  and  are  still  read  all  over  the  world.  He  was  a  strenu- 
ous opponent  of  Modernism  in  theology.  Robert  William 
Dale  (1829 — 1895),  Congregational  minister,  is  author  of  a 
valuable  work  on  The  Atonement,  and  of  perhaps  the  most 
convincing  book  ever  written  on  Christian  evidences.  The 
Living  Christ  and  the  Four  Gospels. 


SPENSER  (1552—1599). 

Edmund  Spenser,  the  first  great  English  poet  after  Chaucer, 
was  born  in  London  about   1552.     His   father, 

Parentage      and  l 

Education.  wno  was  a  poor  man,  apparently  a  clothmaker, 

was  a  distant  relation  of  the  Spencers  of 
Althorp,  a  noble  family,  to  one  of  whom  both  Milton  and 
Spenser  dedicated  important  poems.*  Spenser's  branch 
of  this  family  came  from  Burnley  in  Lancashire,  and  there  are 
traces  in  his  poems  of  familiarity  with  a  Northern  dialect.  He 
was  a  'poor  scholar,'  partly  dependent  on  the  Founder's  charity 
at  the  Merchant  Taylors'  School,  and  he  went  in  1569  as  a 
Sizar  to  Pembroke  Hall  (as  it  was  then  called),  Cambridge,  a 
college  which  was  closely  connected  with  that  school.  He  did 
not  distinguish  himself  at  the  University,  but  made  a  good 
acquaintance  with  Greek  and  Latin  literature,  and  took  his 
M.  A.  degree  in  1576.  One  important  result  of  his  Cambridge 
life  was  his  friendship  with  Gabriel  Harvey,  one  of  the  Fellows 
of  the  College,  an  eccentric  and  arrogant  man,  best  known  as 
the  butt  of  the  dramatist  Nash's  satire.  Harvey  for  a  time 
infected  Spenser  with  his  own  mania  for  writing  English  verses 
in  the  classical  metres,  a  difficult  and  useless  feat. 

After  leaving  Cambridge  he  appears  to  have  stayed  with  his 

relations  at  Burnley,  where  he  fell  in  love  with 

Calendar?  S  tne  lady  who  figures  as  the  heroine    Rosalind 

of   one   part  of   his    Shepherd's  Calendar.      In 

1578   he  went  to   London,   and   was   introduced  by  Harvev  to 

Sidney  and  Leicester  ;  and  in    1579    this   poem    was   published 

anonymously,  but  dedicated  to  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  and  copiously 

annotated  by  'E.  K.'  (Edward  Kirke).     It  at   once  sained   him 


•Lady  Strange,  daughter  of  Sir  John  Spencer  of  Althorpe,  after- 
wards Lady  Egerton  ;  to  her  Spenser  dedicated  his  Tears  of  the  Mum  a, 
and  Milton  his  Arcades. 


SPENSER.  99 

widespread  fame,  for  it  was  undoubtedly  the  best  work  that  had 
appeared  since  Chaucer's  day.  In  it  Spenser  set  his  face 
against  the  fashionable  affectations  and  diction  introduced  from 
Italy,  and  boldly  avowed  Chaucer  as  his  model.  Still  more 
bold  was  he  in  his  denunciation  of  the  luxury  and  pride  of  the 
clergy;  for  under  a  transparent  pseudonym  ('Algrind'  for 
'Grindal'  )  he  praises  the  Apostolic  simplicity  and  truth  of  the 
Puritan  archbishop  whom  Elizabeth  had  disgraced  and  silenced, 
while  he  unsparingly  denounces  ( under  the  pseudonym 
'MorreU'  =  'Ellmor' =  'Elmer'  =  'Aylmer')  the  Bishop  of  London, 
to  whom  the  Queen  had  transferred  much  of  the  archbishop's 
authority.  Yet  for  all  this,  Spenser  was,  and  to  the  last 
remained,  her  devoted  worshipper  :  and  she  no  doubt  had  wit 
enough  to  appreciate  the  poet  and  the  courtier,  however  much 
she  may  have  disliked  the  Puritan.  She  never  gave  him  what 
he  desired,  a  place  in  her  court  at  home  ;  but  allowed  him  to 
go  to  Ireland  (1580)  as  private  secretary  to  Lord  Grey,  who 
had  just  been  sent  there  as  the  Queen's  Lord  Deputy. 

Here  he  lived  an  exile.     He  detested   the   country   and   the 
people,    and    they    returned    his    hatred    with 

In  Ireland.  r       r     '  J 

interest.  Spenser  went  to  Dublin  with  his 
chief;  received  a  succession  of  political  employments;  and 
finally  settled  at  Kilcolman  Castle,  in  Country  Cork,  on  an 
estate  which  was  part  of  the  forfeited  lands  of  the  Irish  rebel, 
the  Earl  of  Desmond  (1588  or  1589)  There  is  evidence  to 
show  that  he  was  somewhat  high-handed  in  his  dealings  with 
his  Irish  neighbours  ;  and  we  know  from  his  posthumous 
prose  work,  A  Viezv  of  the  Present  State  of  Ireland,  that  he 
upheld  the  policy  of  stern  repression. 

Spenser  had  begun  the  great  work  of  his  life-time  before  he 

left  England  ;  for  we  know  that    Harvey  found 
'  Faery  Queen.-        serjous    fauit    both     with    the    style    and    the 

treatment  of  so  much  of  the  poem  as  Spenser  had  submitted  to 
his  friendly  criticism.  In  1586  he  explained  to  some  of  his 
friends  in  Ireland  the  kind  of  poem  he  was  engaged  upon,  and 
that  he  had  'already  well  entered  into  it.'  The  first  three  books 
were   finished   when   Sir  Walter  Raleigh  came  to  visit  him  at 


100  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Kilcolman.  Sir  Walter  was  delighted  with  them  ;  took  him  to 
London  and  again  presented  him  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  who 
conferred  upon  him  a  pension  of  ^50.  This  opening  part  was 
published  in  1590,  and  at  once  secured  the  highest  reputation 
for  its  author. 

The  success  of  The  Faery  Queen  led  to    the   publication   of 
other    poems    of    his,    some    recently   written. 

'Complaints.'  .  ,  ..  ,  ,  , 

others  of  earlier  date.  The  volume  thus 
formed  was  published  in  1591,  under  the  title  of  Complaints. 
It  included  among  other  poems  Mother  Hubbard's  Tale,  a 
story  in  Chaucer's  style  of  a  fox  and  an  ape  who  went  through 
the  world  to  make  their  fortunes— a  covert  satire  upon  the 
Army,  the  Church,  and  the  Court ;  Virgil's  Gnat;  Muiopotmos. 
or  the  Tale  of  the  Butterflv,  an  original  allegory  ;  the  Ruins  of 
Time  ;  and  Tears  of  the  Muses  (see  foot-note,  p  98).  In  most  of 
these  poems,  there  is  a  vein  of  melancholy  happilycombined  with 
a  delight  in  emblematic  allegory.  But  Mother  Hubbard's  Tale 
proves  that  its  author  could,  had  he  not  been  better  employed 
upon  the  Faery  Queen,  have  easily  out-distanced  even  Dryden 
as  a  satirist. 

Spenser  in  his  Shepherd's  Calendar    had   taken   from    Skel- 

ton's    poem    the    name    of    'Colin    Clout'    as 

Co°me  Ho°meS  typical   of  an    honest   Englishman   zealous  for 

Again.-  reform  in  Church  and   State.     This   name   he 

afterwards  used  as  a  poetical  pseudonym  for 
himself.  On  his  return  to  Kilcolman  he  dedicated  to  Raleigh 
a  poem  called  Colin  Clout's  Come  Home  At>ai?i  (1595).  It  is 
an  account  of  his  visit  to  London,  and  of  what  he  saw  in  the 
metropolis  and  in  the  Court  of  Elizabeth  Among  other  inci- 
dental references  to  great  politicians  or  poets,  he  gives  high 
praise  to  Shakespeare,  under  the  name  of  'Action,' — the  'Ea^le' 
of  song, 

'Whose  Muse,  full  of  high  thoughts'  invention, 
Doth  like  himself  heroically  sound,' 

the  last  line  being  a  play  on  the  name  'Shake-spear.' 


SPENSER.  101 

After  his  return  to  Ireland  he  married  (1594)  a  lady  named 

Elizabeth,   supposed   to  be   Elizabeth  Boyle,  a 

Marriage;  relative  of  the  Earl  of  Cork.     It  was  a  genuine 

Ephithalamion'  ;  < 

■Prothaiamion.'  love  match,  which  inspired  him  to  write  a 
series  of  love-sonnets,  Amoreiti,  published  in 
1595,  of  which  she  is  the  heroine,  and  also  to  give  to  the  world 
his  Ephithalamion  or  'Nuptial  Song,'  which  is  universally 
allowed  to  be  the  most  beautiful  poem  of  that  time  that  has 
ever  been  written.  So  deep  an  impression  was  made  upon 
him  by  the  happiness  of  married  life  that  he  even  introduces 
his  wife  as  a  fourth  Grace,  and  rapturously  describes  her  ex- 
cellencies, in  the  tenth  canto  of  the  sixth  book  of  The  Faery 
Queen.  In  1596,  when  he  had  finished  the  second  part  of 
his  great  poem  (Books  IV,  V,  and  VI),  Spenser  came  to 
England  and  stayed  with  the  Earl  of  Essex  for  a  time,  during 
which  he  composed  what  is  probably  his  last  poem,  a 
Prothaiamion  or  "Spousal  Verse,'  in  honour  of  the  marriage 
of  two  daughters  of  the  Earl  of  Worcester.  He  also  published 
two  Hymns  0/  Heavenly  love  and  Heavenly  Beauty,  which  he 
added  to  his  earlier  Hymns  of  Love  and  Beauty. 

Some  lines  in  the  Prothaiamion,  bemoaning  his  'friendless 
case',  and  his  'fruitless  stay  in  Prince's  Court,' 
1  rFe'ifnd  !rde"ath.  show  that  he  had  hoped,  but  hoped  in  vain, 
to  obtain  preferment  in  England.  Disappoint- 
ed in  this,  he  returned  to  Kilcolman  in  1597.  In  the  follow- 
ing year  a  fresh  insurrection  broke  out  in  Ireland.  Spenser  was 
a  marked  man  ;  and  one  of  the  first  acts  of  the  insurgents  was 
to  set  fire  to  his  castle.  He  and  his  family  (except  it  is  said, 
one  child,  an  infant)  only  escaped  with  their  lives — a  disaster 
which  forms  the  subject  of  Essex  and  Spencer,  one  of  Landor's 
'Imaginary  Conversations.'  He  returned  to  England,  and  took 
a  lodging  in  a  tavern  near  Westminster,  hoping  no  doubt  to 
obtain  at  Court  some  compensation  for  his  losses.  But  in 
vain;  he  died  on  January  the  13th,  1599,  in  great  distress,  if 
not  actually,  as  Ben  Jonson  affirms,  'for  lack  of  bread.'  He 
was  burried  in  Westminster  Abbey  by  the  side  of  Chaucer, 
whom  he  had  always  revered  as  his  master  in  song. 


102  A   HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Of  Spenser's  character  we  know  almost  less  than  we  do 
of  Shakespeare's.  From  his  poems  we  learn 
n'as  a  man.er  tnat  he  was  of  a  deeply  religious  temperament ; 

his  religion  moreover  being  one  of  a  lofty  and 
spiritual  nature.  He  had  more  than  Milton's  richness  of  imagi- 
nation, and  was  quite  as  fearless  in  his  devotion  to  the  simplicity 
of  the  primitive  Christian  faith.  Indeed  there  is  a  close 
parallelism  between  the  'Algrind'  eclogue  of  the  Shepherd's 
Calendar  and  the  'Pilot  of  the  Galilean  lake'  episode  in 
Lycidas.  It  is  clear  that  Spenser's  admiration  for  Queen 
Elizabeth  was  based  on  genuine  loyalty  ;  to  him  she  was  the 
incarnation  of  Protestant  truth  triumphing  over  the  corruptions 
of  the  Papal  Antichrist.  No  doubt  but  for  his  fearless  and 
outspoken  Puritanism  he  might  easily  have  lived  at  ease  at 
home,  a  well-placed  Court  favourite.  But  he  never  paltered 
with  his  conscience,  and  like  his  model,  Archbishop  Grindal, 
he  'chose  rather  to  offend  the  Queen's  earthly  majesty  than 
to  offend  the  heavenly  majesty  of  God."  We  know  too  that 
Spenser  both  held  and  practised  the  highest  ideal  of  married 
love  ;  his  Amoretti  might  in  this  respect  almost  be  compared 
with  Mrs.  Browning's  Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese.  In  sweet- 
ness of  disposition  he  seems  to  have  resembled  Shakespeare  ; 
he  evidently  possessed  a  personal  charm,  for  he  won  the 
cordial  friendship  of  one  so  highly  gifted  and  chivalrous  as 
Sir  Philip  Sidney.  He  had  the  melancholy  but  none  of  the 
proverbial  irritability  of  the  poetic  race ;  witness  his  good- 
natured  patience  with  Gabriel  Harvey's  silly  criticisms  on 
the  opening  stanzas  of  The  Faery  Queen.  He  was  indeed 
harsh  and  unsympathetic  towards  the  Irish  ;  but  that  was  the 
fault  of  the  age  and  of  the  political  situation. 

Spenser's  position  in  literature  is  perhaps  best  summed 
up  in  the  phrase  'the  poets'  poet'.  He  is 
one  of  the  great  poets  himself,  and  he  was 
the  teacher  and  inspirer  of  song  to  Shakespeare,  Milton,  and 
more  or  less  to  every  one  whose  name  is  in  the  roll  of  poetic 
fame.  No  poet  ever  had  a  more  equisite  sense  of  the 
beautiful  :    'He    excels',    writes  Hallam,   'Ariosto  in  originality 


SPENSER.  103 

of  invention,  in  force,  and  variety  of  character,  in  depth  of 
reflection,  and,  above  all  in  that  poetical  cast  of  feeling  which 
discerns  in  everything  what  common  minds  do  not  perceive.' 
Drayton  considers  him  in  his  special  province  the  greatest  of 
poets  since  Homer  ;  and  Pope  delighted  in  him.  Spenser's 
great  merit  lies  in  his  luxuriant  spontaneity  of  imagination, 
emotion,  and  musical  rhythm  ;  his  very  faults,  it  has  been 
said,  'came  from  the  wanton  redundance  of  power,  rather  than 
from  the  constraint  of  insufficient  or  inflexible  diction/ 
Campbell,  using  a  metaphor  from  the  painter's  art,  has  not 
inaptly  called  him  'the  Rubens  of  English  poetry.' 

Spenser's  great  vvork,    The  Faery  Queen,    sums    up    all    his 
distinctive    excellencies.       If    Milton's     lesser 
itshf iTe|or^"een        poems    were     destroyed,     he    would     lose    a 
great    part    of    his   title    to  fame ;  but    were 
Spenser's  shorter  poems  lost,  he  would  lose    only    in    quantity, 
not  in  quality.      The    Faery    Queen    is    a   religious    and    moral 
allegory.     An  allegory    is    an    expanded    metaphor,    just    as    a 
parable  is  an  expanded  simile      It    is    the    veiled    presentment 
of  moral    or    spiritual    truth    through    some    imaginary    story. 
Real  persons,  as  well    as   abstract    ideas    may   be   allegorically 
represented,  though  in  its  stricter  form,  the  latter  alone    should 
be  personified       It  is  obviously  difficult,  if    not    impossible,   to 
keep  up  a  consistent  allegory  to  any    great    length  ;  as    a    rule, 
therefore,  the  shorter  an  allegory    is    the    better.     This    is    the 
great    defect    in     The  Faery  Queen :  its   great    length    and    the 
want  of  central  unity.     From    the    earliest    times    allegory    has 
been    a    favourite    vehicle    for    conveying    instruction.       Thus 
in  the  Bible  the    eightieth    Psalm    compares   Israel    to    a   vine, 
and  under  that  semblance  shadows  forth  her    spiritual    destiny. 
Plato  in  his  Phcedrus  has  written  an    allegorical    description  of 
the  human   soul  as    a    charioteer    drawn    by    two    horses,    one 
white    and    one    black,     representing    the    good    and  the    bad 
inclinations.    The  classical  story  of  the  Belly  and  the    members 
(Livy,  II,  32)  reproduced  by  Shakespeare  in  his  Coriolanus  is  a 
humble  and  familiar   type  of  allegory.     Swift's    Tale  0/ a  Tub, 
Addison's     Vision  of   Mirza  (see  p.  261)  in  the  Spectator,  and 


104  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Thomson's  Castle  of  Indolence  are  well-known  modern 
allegories.  Perhaps  the  best  of  all,  in  point  of  artistic  con- 
struction, is  Milton's  allegory  of  Sin  and  Death  in  Book  II  of 
Paradise  Lost.  But  on  the  whole  the  most  perfect  allegory  in 
the  language  as  regards  form  and  unity  of  design  is  Bunvan's 
Holy  War ;  for  his  Pilgrim's  Progress  is  only  half  allegorical. 
Indeed  it  is  almost  inevitable  that  the  more  strictly  allegorical 
an  allegory  is,  the  duller  must  it  be.  Perhaps  the  highest 
praise  of  an  allegory  is  when  it  is  so  written  that  we  can  forget, 
as  we  read,  that  it  is  intended  to  be  one.  That  highest  praise 
belongs  alike  to  The  Pilgrim 's  Progress  and  to  The  Faery  Queen. 
The  complete  idea  of  Spenser's  allegory  is  as  follows. 
From      the    court    of      Gloriana,    Queen    of 

Its  scheme.  _,  .        .  .  .      .    ,  r       . 

taervland,  twelve  knights  are  sent  forth  on 
perilous  adventures.  The  six  books  extant  give  the 
adventures  of  the  six  knights  representing  Holiness, 
Temperance,  Chastity,  Friendship,  Justice,  and  Courtesy. 
One  of  the  unwritten  books  on  Constancy  is  represented  only 
by  fragmentary  Cantos  on  Mutability.  In  addition  to  the 
twelve  books  actually  planned,  Spenser  intended  to  write 
twelve  more  hooks  on  the  'political  virtues,'  to  supplement 
the  first  twelve  'private  moral  virtues.'  King  Arthur,  he  takes 
as  the  personification  or  embodiment  of  all  the  virtues.  He 
has  explained  his  whole  plan  in  a  prefatory  letter  to  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh,  in  which  he  says  that  he  considered  it  inartistic  to 
commence  with  a  description  of  the  Court  of  Gloriana 
reserving  this  for  the  twelfth  book.  He  accordingly  begins 
with  the  adventures  of  the  Red  Cross  Knight  of  Holiness,  the 
champion  of  the  Virgin  Una  with  her  milkwhite  lamb.  In 
the  second  book  he  similarly  describes  the  conflicts  of  the 
Knight  of  Temperance  with  violence,  with  anger,  and  with  the 
temptations  of  riches  and  sensuality.  In  the  following 
books  the  story  becomes  less  and  less  distinct,  and  loses 
itself  in  a  tangle  of  subsidiary  adventures,  suggested  by 
historical  or  personal  allusions.  King  Arthur,  inspired  by 
his  passion  for  the  Faery  Queen,  comes  to  the  help  of  the 
other  knights  as  a    symbolic    representation    of  Divine    Grace. 


SPENSER 


105 


In  the  twelfth  book,  which  would  have  explained  and  har- 
monised the  teaching  of  the  whole  allegory,  Spenser  had 
intended  to  bring  all  his  twelve  knights  with  their  mystic  King 
back  to  the  Court  of  Gloriana  after  the  completion  of  their 
adventures.  As  it  is,  the  allegory  was  left  unfinished,  and  the 
elucidation  must  be  looked  for,  not  in  the  poem  itself,  but  in 
the  poet's  prefatory  letter. 

The  Faery  Queen  is  more  intensely  Puritan  and  anti- 
its  political  Romanist  than  Paradise  Lost,  and  contains 
bearings.  far  cl0ser  reference  to  the  political  events  of 
the  time.  For  Spenser,  during  the  whole  time  that  he  was 
writing,  was  associated  with  the  men  who  made  English 
history  ;  Milton,  when  he  wrote  Paradise  Lost,  was  merely 
a  survival  of  a  lost  cause.  In  the  three  later  books  of  The 
Faery  Queen  the  doings  of  Lord  Grey  of  Leicester,  and  of 
Raleigh  are  more  or  less  clearly  described  under  allegorical 
veils  ;  while  in  the  same  allegorical  vein,  only  much  more 
unmistakeably,  in  the  ninth  and  tenth  cantos  of  Book  V  he 
argues  out  the  whole  case  for  the  prosecution,  and  justifies  the 
execution,  of  Alary  Queen  of  Scots.  Thus  we  continually  find 
a  double  allegorizing  :  Duessa  is  Roman  Catholicism  in  the 
abstract,  and  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  in  the  concrete  ;  King 
Arthur  is  sometimes  the  ideal  Christian  Faith,  and  sometimes 
the  Earl  of  Leicester;  while  Queen  Elizabeth  herself  is  glorified 
under  three  types — as  the  Faery  Queen  Gloriana,  as  Britomart, 
representing  Chastity,  and  as  the  fair  huntress,  Belphoebe, 
representing  her  womanly  attributes. 

Spenser  has  borrowed  largely  from  Chaucer  ;  and  the  old 
..__  romances,  such  as  the   Morte    d'   Arthur    and 

its  sources. 

Sir  Bevis  of  Hampton,  supply  much  of  the 
machinery  of  his  poem.  Many  of  his  creations,  as  Archimago 
and  Duessa,  are  taken  from  the  Italian  of  Ariosto  and  Tasso, 
to  both  of  whom  he  is  much  indebted,  especially  the  former 
poet.  'He  may  sometimes,'  says  G.  W.  Kitchin,  'take  a  scene 
from  the  classical  poets,  as,  for  example,  the  bleeding  trees  ; 
and  he  may  draw  upon  the  classical  mythologies  for  his 
furniture  of  illustration  ;    but    he    treats    these    subjects    in    an 


106  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

independent  and  romantic,  rather  than  in  a  classical  manner.' 
Spenser's    diction    may  be  said  to   be  one  of  his  own  inven- 
tion, and  one  that  on  the  whole    accords   well 

Its  diction. 

with  his  subject  matter.  As  Johnson  said,  he 
'affected  the  ancients,'  and  is  fond  of  borrowing  words  from 
earlier  authors — words  which  he  often  uses  incorrectly  ;  and  in 
some  instances  he  goes  so  far  as  to  coin  old-fashioned  words 
of  his  own.  The  fact  is,  as  Saintsbury  says,  there  was  no 
'Queen's  English'  in  Spenser's  day.  "Every  writer  more  or 
less  endowed  with  originality  was  engaged  in  beating  out  for 
himself,  from  popular  talk  and  from  classical  or  foreign 
analogy,  an  instrument  of  speech.'  And  with  all  his  learning, 
his  archaisms,  his  classicisms,  and  his  Platonisms,  'hardly  any 
poet  smells  of  the  lamp  less  disagreeably  than  Spenser.' 

It    is    unnecessary  to  attribute  to  the  ottnva  rima  of  Ariosto 

the    origin    of    the     Spenserian    stanza.      By  a 

rts  metre.  '  r 

happy  stroke  of  metrical  genius  Spenser  creat- 
ed it  by  adding  an  Alexandrine  to  the  stanza  of  Chaucer's 
Monk's  Tale.  And  it  is  one  great  merit  of  Spenser  that  he  not 
only  invented  a  new  metrical  form,  but  made  that  form  as 
flexible,  as  varied,  and  as  perfectly  adapted  to  every  variety  of 
mood  and  expression  as  Milton's  own  blank  verse.  Indeed  it 
has  been  maintained,  and  it  is  probably  true,  that  the  Spen- 
serian stanza  is  the  true  analogue  of  the  Homeric  hexameter. 
Worsley's  scholarly  translation  of  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey 
has  been  written  as  a  practical  exemplification  of  this  belief. 

QUOTATIONS. 

A  gentle  knight  was  pricking  on  the  plain, 

Yclad  in  mighty  arms  and  silver  shield, 

Wherein  old  dints  of  deep  wounds  did  remain, 

The  cruel  marks  of  many  a  bloody  field  : 

Yet  arms  till  that  time  did  he  never  wield. 

His  angry  steed  did  chide  his  foaming  bit, 

As  much  disdaining  to  the  curb  to  yield  ; 

Full  jolly  knight  he  seemed  and  fair  did  sit, 

As  one  for  knightly  jousts  and  fierce  encounters  fit. 

Faery  Queen,  I.  i. 
A  bold  bad  man.         lb.  I.  i,  37. 


SPENSER.  107 

Her  angel's  face 
As  the  great  eye  of  heaven,  shined  bright, 
And  made  a  sunshine  in  the  shady  place. 

lb.  I.  iii,  4. 
And  is  there  care  in  Heaven  ?  And  is  there  love 
In  heavenly  spirits  to  these  creatures  base, 
That  may  compassion  of  their  evils  move  ? 
There  is  :  else  much  more  wretched  were  the  case 
Of  men  than  beasts. 

lb.  II.  viii.   1. 
Dan  Chaucer,  well  of  English  undefiled, 
On  Fame's  enternal  bead-roll  worthy  to  be  filed. 

lb.  IV.  ii.  32. 
Who  will  not  mercy  unto  others  show, 
How  can  he  mercy  ever  hope  to  have  ? 

lb.  VI.  i.  42. 
What  more  felicity  can  fall  to  creature 
Than  to  enjoy  delight  with  liberty, 
And  to  be  lord  of  all  the  works  of  Nature, 
To  reign  in  the  air  from  earth  to  highest  sky, 
To  feed  on  flowers  and  weeds  of  glorious  feature. 

The  Fate  of  the  Butterfly,  209—13. 
A  sweet  attractive  kind  of  grace, 
A  full  assurance  given  by  looks, 
Continual  comfort  in  a  face, 

The  lineaments*  of  gospel-books.  Astrophill  (doubtful). 

Full  little  knowest  thou  that  hast  not  tried, 
What  hell  it  is  in  suing  long  to  bide  : 
To  lose  good  days  that  might  be  better  spent  ; 
To  waste  long  nights  in  pensive  discontent  ; 
To  speed  to-day,  to  be  put  back  to-morrow  ; 
To  feed  on  hope,  to  pine  with  fear  and  sorrow  ; 
To  have  thy  princess'  grace,  yet  want  her  peers'  ; 
To  have  thy  asking,  yet  wait  many  years  ; 
To  fret  thy  soul  with  crosses  and  with  cares  ; 
To  eat  thy  heart  through  comfortless  despairs  ; 
To  fawn,  to  crouch,  to  wait,  to  ride,  to  run, 
To  spend,  to  give,  to  want,  to  be  undone. 

Mother  Hubberd's  Tale,  895 — 906. 


SHAKESPEARE  (1564—1616). 

William    Shakespeare     was     born     at    Stratford-on-Avon 

Birth  April    22nd  or  23rd,  1564.     In   his    birth    he 

was  richly  dowered  as  regards — (a)  parentage, 
{b)  place,  and  (c)  lime. 

From  his  father,  John  Shakespeare,  a  self-made  man,  he 
(a)  Parentage  inherited  the  sturdy    enterprise    of   the    Saxon 

yeoman,  and  the  perfervid  imagination  of  the 
Celt.  His  mother,  Mary  Arden,  gave  him  the  proud  patrio- 
tism, the  honourable  traditions  of  an  ancient  Saxon  lineage, 
with  the  refinement  and  the  courtesy  of  Norman  blood.  His 
father,  dissatisfied  with  the  dull  routine  of  a  village  farm,  came 
to  push  his  fortunes  as  a  tradesman  in  Stratford,  dealing  in 
all  kinds  of  farming  gear.  Energetic,  venturesome,  and 
public-spirited,  he  worked  his  way  upwards  till  he  became  a 
gentleman  of  fortune,  and  when  his  son  was  four  years  old, 
was  chosen  Mayor  of  Stratford. 

His  birth-place  was  in  the  heart  of  the  Midlands — 'with 
Place  shadowy  forests  and  with    champaigns    riched, 

with  plenteous  rivers  and  wide-skirted  meads' ;' 
amid  fruitful  farmlands,  historic  castles,  and  all  that  serene 
beauty  of  deer-haunted  forest  glades  which  he  has  idealised  ir 
As  You  Like  It.  The  destined  author  of  dramas  which  hold  up 
so  perfect  a  mirror  to  universal  humanity  was  born,  not  like 
Wordsworth  amid  bare  mountains  and  wild  glens,  but  where 
Nature  is  fairest  and  most  perfectly  at  one  with  man.  As 
a  boy  he  seems  to  have  been  more  active  than  imaginative  : 
but  there  would  be  times  when,  flinging  himself  down 'under  an 
oak  whose  antique  root  peeps  out  Upon  the  brook  that  brawls 
along  this  wood,'2  he  would  give  himself  up  to  happy 
dreamings  that  grew  into    a    part    of    his    own    being.     It    was 


1  Lear,   i.  1.  65-6. 
As  You  Like  It,  ii.  1.  31-2. 


SHAKESPEARE.  10& 

probably  not  till  his  father's  business  failures  in  1579  that  the 
moods  of  tragedy  began  to  overshadow  the  songs  and  sun- 
shine of  his  youth,  and  he  first  learned  the  truth  about  the  world. 

'  "  Ah,"  quoth  Jaques, 
"Sweep  on,  you  fat  and  greasy  citizens  ; 
'Tis  just  the  fashion  :  wherefore  do  you  look 
Upon  that  poor  and  broken  bankrupt  there"  ?  n 

Like  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Shakespeare  passionately  loved  the 
haunts  of  his  boyhood,  and  even  in  his  busiest  days  as 
dramatist  and  actor-manager,  he  seems  never  to  have  missed 
his  annual  visit  home.  All  through  his  hard-working  career 
his  one  central  thought  was  how  he  might  amass  a  fortune  so 
secure  that  he,  and  his  heirs  for  ever  might  realise  the  perfect 
life  that  combines  woodland  reverie  and  healthy  field-sports, 
with  the  joys  of  home  and  the  honourable  activities  of  in- 
fluential citizenship. 

Shakespeare    was    equally  fortunate  in  the  date  of  his  birth. 
.  The  reguUr  sequence    of  his    historical    plays 

(a  priceless  boon  to  Englishmen)  exhibits  to 
us,  as  Gairdner  tells  us.  'not  only  the  general  character  of 
each  successive  reign,  but  nearly  the  whole  chain  of  leading 
events  from  the  days  of  Richard  II  to  the  death  of  Richard  III 
at  Bosworth.  Following  the  guidance  of  such  a  master 
mind,  we  realise   for    ourselves    the    men    and    actions    of    the 

period    in    a    way  we  cannot  do  in  any  other  epoch During 

the  Wars  of  the  Roses  we  have  very  few  contemporary  narratives 
of  what  took  place  :  and  anything  like  a  general  history  of 
the  time  was  not  written  till  a  much  later  date.  But  the 
doings  of  that  stormy  age — the  sad  calamities  endured  by  kings 
— the  sudden  changes  of  fortune  in  great  men — the  glitter  of 
chivalry  and  the  horrors  of  civil  war — all  left  a  deep  impres- 
sion upon  the  mind  of  the  nation,  which  was  kept  alive 
by  vivid  traditions  of  the  past  at  the  time  that  our  great 
dramatist  wrote.'  Shakespeare's  boyhood  was  thus  alive  with 
the    stately    pageantry   of   the   past  ;    a    past  distant  enough  to 

1  Ibid.  54-7. 


110  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

gain  the  glory  of  imaginative  colouring  and  poetic  haze,  and  yet 
not  so  distant  that  the  boy  poet  may  not  have  chatted  in  the 
inglenook  with  some  village  patriarch  whose  father  had  fought 
at  Bosworth,  or  have  handled  the  very  bow  with  which  that 
patriarch's  great- great-grandsi re  had  helped  to  rout  the  French 
cavalry  at  Crecy.  Had  Shakespeare  been  born  fifty  years 
earlier,  his  career  would  have  been  impossible.  Surrey  and 
.Marlowe  had  to  go  before  to  prepare  the  mould  of  blank 
verse  in  which  the  molten  gold  of  his  dramatic  imagination 
could  alone  find  its  true  form  ;  and  but  for  James  Burbage, 
who  built  the  first  theatre  in  1576,  Shakespeare's  genius  would 
have  pined,  a  houseless  wanderer.  Had  he  been  born  fifty 
years  later  his  'native  wood-notes  wild'  could  have  found  no 
place  amid  the  stern  clash  of  civil  war,  and  the  fierce  bigotries 
of  prelatist  and  Covenanter. 

Shakespeare    seems    to  have  inherited  from  his  mother  that 
Childhood.  fine  balance   of    faculty,    that    steadfast    moral 

purpose,  without  which  his  genius  would  have 
made  the  same  inglorious  shipwreck  as  did  that  of  his  prede- 
cessors, Marlowe  and  Greene.  As  a  lad  he  had  the  run  of 
many  rural  farmsteads— his  grandfather's,  his  uncle  Henry's, 
the  cottage  of  the  Hathaways,  and  the  substantial  dwellinghouse 
with  its  gardens  and  orchard  of  the  Asbies  at  Wilmcote,  of 
which,  through  his  mother,  he  was  the  prospective  heir.  Thus 
Shakespeare  grew  up  in  year-long  familiarity  with  the  varying 
interests  of  rural  life  and  village  festivities.  The  education  of 
one  all-important  experience  he  gained  through  his  father's 
high  municipal  position.  He  appears  to  have  been  the  first 
Mayor  that  ever  invited  a  company  of  players  to  Stratford  ; 
and  following  the  usual  custom,  he  paid  the  expenses  of  their 
opening  (free)  performance  in  the  Guild-hall.  His  son  was 
then  seven  years  old.  From  two  years  after  that  date  until 
Shakespeare  left  Stratford  for  London,  a  succession  of  the  best 
theatrical  companies  in  the  kingdom  constantly  visited  his 
native  town.  He  must  also  have  occasionally  gone  to  see  the 
'mysteries'  or  '  miracle  plays,'  for  which  Conventry  had  so 
high  a  reputation.   Herod  and  Pilate,  Cain  and  Judas,  Termagaunt 


SHAKESPEARE.  HI 

with  his  turbaned  Turks,  the  nimble  Vice  with  his  dagger  of 
lath,  and  the  ramping,  roaring  Devil,1  all  these  were  doubtless 
familiar  to  him.  It  appears  probable  that  his  father  took  him, 
when  eleven  years  old,  to  witness  the  splendid  pageantry  with 
which  the  Earl  of  Leicester  entertained  Queen  Elizabeth  at 
Kenilworth  Castle.  In  this  pageant  there  was  a  Triton  in  the 
likeness  of  a  mermaid,  and  Proteus  sitting  on  a  dolphin's  back. 
Within  the  body  of  this  sham  dolphin  was  hidden  a  band  of 
musicians ;  and,  as  usual,  fireworks  and  rockets  closed  the 
entertainment.  Of  this  boyish  memory  there  is  probably  a 
glorified  reminiscence  in  the  well-known  lines  where  Oberon 
describes  how  — 

'  Once  I  sat  upon  a  promontory, 
And  heard  a  mermaid  on  a  dolphin's  back 
Uttering  such  dulcet  and  harmonious  breath 
That  the  rude  sea  grew  civil  at  her  song, 
And  certain  stars  shot  madly  from  their  spheres 
To  hear  the  sea-maid's  music.'2 

Shakespeare    was  educated    at    the   'King's  New  School'  at 
Stratford,    and    attended    it    apparently  for  six 

School  life.  ,  ,       ,  , 

years.  No  doubt  he  had  a  good  sprag 
memory',3  but  it  is  very  unlikely  that  a  boy  so  fond  of  field 
sports4  was  a  bookworm.  Rather  we  may  believe  that  he 
described  himself,  and  indirectly  testifies,  like  Cowper,s  to  his 
mother's  fond  and  scrupulous  care,  in  the  lines — 

'And  then  the  whining  schoolboy,  with  his  satchel, 
And  shitting  morning  face,  creeping  like  snail 
Unwillingly  to  school.6 
He    has    given    us    an    interesting    description  of  his  lowef- 
form  lessons,  and  a  pretty  clear    hint    that    he    too    shared    the 
discipline   so  familiar  to  budding  dukes  and  earls  at  Eton— 'If 


1  Hen.   V.  iv.  4.  75-7  ;  Hamlet,  iii.  2.  15-16. 

2  Mids.  N.  Dr.  II.  i.  149-154,  158,  163-4. 

3  M.  Wives  of  W.  iv.  1.  84  (and  whole  scene). 
*  Merchant  of  V.  i.  1.  140-4. 

i  Receipt  of  My  Mothers  Picture,  62-3. 
6  As  You  Like  It,  iv.  7.  145-7. 


112  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

you  forget  your  quits  and  your  quaes  and  your  quods,  you   must 
be  preeches'  (i.  e.,  breeches  ;  short  for  'deprived  of   that  garment 
while  being  birched').     In  this  way  Shakespeare   acquired  what 
the    learned    Ben    Jonson    described    as    'small  Latin  and  less 
Greek'.     It  was   not   till    he    was   taken    in   hand  by  the  stern 
tutors,  Poverty  and  Necessity,  that  he  became  a  real  student. 
Shakespeare    appears   to  have  left  school  somewhat  prema- 
turely owing  to  his  father's  money    difficulties. 
binkrLptcy.  Probably    he    was     thus     'kept    rustically     at 

home,'1  to  make  himself  useful  in  his  father's 
business.  John  Shakespeare  was  a  careless,  unmethodical 
man,  fond  of  display  and  lavish  hospitality  ;  and  after  being 
made  Mayor,  he  applied  (though  vainly)  to  the  Herald's 
College  for  a  grant  of  arms.  And  now,  but  for  his  son's  filial 
devotion,  John  Shakespeare,  who  had  moral  strength  to  bear 
up  under  misfortune,  would  have  sunk  into  hopeless  bank- 
ruptcy, and  become  a  despairing  misanthrope.  Long  years 
afterwards  the  world's  great  dramatist  idealized  on  a  heroic 
scale  and  with  a  less  happy  ending  his  father's  life  story  in  the 
terrible  tragedy  of  Timon  of  Athens. 

During  this  waiting  time  at  Stratford  Shakespeare  is  said  to 
have  been  for  a  time  a    schoolmaster.     It   has 

Legal  knowledge.  ■  .  , 

also  been  inferred  that  he  worked  in  a  lawyer  s 
office,  chiefly  from  the  exactitude  of  the  legal  references  found 
in  his  dramas.  Rut  all  external  evidence  is  against  this  latter 
supposition  ;  and  it  might  as  well  be  argued  that  he  had  been  a 
gardener,  a  sailor,  or  a  physician.  Shakespeare  was  an  observant 
man,  with  a  keen  eye  for  details;  and  the  real  sources  of  his 
legal  knowledge  lay,  first  in  his  father's  unfortunate  familiarity 
with  debts  and  mortgages,  and  later  in  his  dinners  at  cheap 
London  taverns,  which  Dekker  tells  us  were  much  frequented 
bv  thrift))  attorneys,  who  monopolized  the  conversation  with 
legal  matters.  But  during  this  time  at  Stratford  two  important 
events  happened  which  together  led  to  the  great  step  that  gave 
Shakespeare    his    opportunity    to    the    world  incalculable  gain. 

1  A,  You  Like  It,  i.  1.  1-22;  see  also  62-3. 


SHAKESPEARE.  113 

The  first  was  his  marriage   in    December    1582    with  Anne 
r  .  Hathaway,    daughter  of  a  neighbouring  farmer 

recently  deceased,  who  appears  to  have  been 
formerly  on  specially  friendly  terms  with  John  Shakespeare. 
William  Shakespeare  was  eighteen  years  old,  and  Anne  was 
twenty-six.  The  ceremony  was  performed  without  the  regular 
publication  of  the  banns  ;  and  the  sole  document  extant 
implies  that  Shakespeare's  parents  were  not  consulted  about 
the  marriage.  A  daughter,  Susanna,  was  born  towards  the 
end  of  May,  1583.  There  is  good  reason  to  think  that  the 
marriage  was  unhappy  as  well  as  imprudent.1  Before  Shakes- 
peare left  Stratford  two  other  children,  the  twins  Hamnet  and 
Judith,  were  born  (1585).  There  were  no  more  children  of 
the  marriage  ;  and  apparently  he  had  no  communication  with 
his  family  for  eleven  years. 

The  other  event  was  Shakespeare's  '  deer-stealing  '  escapade. 
Deer-stealing  In  a  humorous  reminiscence  of  this  in  the 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  (i.  1.)  Sir  Thomas 
Lucy  is  good-naturedly  satirised  in  the  character  of  Justice 
Shallow.  There  are  two  traditions  about  this  incident.  The 
older  represents  Sir  Thomas's  own  park  of  Charlecote  as  the 
scene  of  the  adventure,  and  thus  makes  Shakespeare  both  a 
poacher  and  a  deer-stealer.  The  later  places  the  scene  in  the 
adjoining  Fulbrooke  Park,  at  that  time  escheated  to  the  Crown 
and  left  to  run  waste.  This  makes  Shakespeare  '  a  village 
Hampden,'  asserting  the  rights  of  the  people  of  Stratford 
against  the  encroachments  of  a  high-handed  game-preserver. 
He  is  also  said  to  have  ridiculed  Sir  Thomas  in  a  stinging 
lampoon2  affixed  to  his  own  park-gates.  Sir  Thomas  was  a 
fanatical  Puritan ;  some  of  Shakespeare's  mother's  relatives 
had  been  arrested,  and  one  had  been  hanged  for  complicity  in 
the     Popish     plots    against    Queen     Elizabeth      Shakespeare's 

1  Twelfth  N.,  ii.  4.  29-32  ;  Temp.  iv.  1.  15-22  ;  All's  Well,  ii.  3. 
Meets,  for  Meas.,  i.  2.  149-60. 

2  Shakespeare's  lampoon  is  lost.  The  one  attributed  to  him,  with 
the  refrain,  '  If  Lucy  is  lousy  as  some  folk  miscall  it,  then  sing  lousy 
Lucy  whatever  befall  it,'  is  certainly  a  forgery. 

8 


114  A    HANDBOOK    OK   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

family  was  thus  doubly  odious  to  Sir  Thomas  both  as  un- 
doubted patrons  of  the  stage,  and  as  possibly  Jesuitical  re- 
cusants ;  and  Sir  Thomas  appears  about  this  time  to  have  begun 
to  exercise  a  paramount  influence  over  the  Stratford  town- 
councillors.  Anyhow  Shakespeare  deemed  it  expedient  to 
leave  Stratford  and  to  keep  aloof  from  it  for  a  time.  He 
quitted  the  familiar  fields  with  a  dumb  rage  in  his  heart,  which 
afterwards  became  articulate  :  — 

'  You  common  cry  of  curs,  whose  breath  I  hate 
As  reek  o'  the  rotten  fens,  whose  loves  I  prize 
As  the  dead  carcases  of  unburied  men 
That  do  corrupt  my  air,  I  banish  you  ! 

■  ■ •  •••  •••  •■•  •  •  * 

There  is  a  world  elsewhere.'1 
Another    reminiscence     of    the     bitter     experiences    of    these 
closing  years    at     Stratford    is    doubtless    to    be  found    in  the 
lines — 

'  For  who  would  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of  time, 
The  oppressor's  wronj,',  the  proud  man's  contumely, 
The  pangs  of  despised  love,  the  law's  delay, 
The  insolence  of  office,  and  the  spurns 
That  patient  merit  of  the  unworthy  takes  ?'- 

Between  1585  and  1587  Shakespeare  went  to    London    and 
Goes  on  the  joined    the    Earl    of    Leicester's   company  of 

stage.  * 

actors.  They  played  principally  at  The 
Theatre,  Shoreditch  (the  first  built),  or  at  The  Curtain  Treatre, 
Moorfields,  the  only  two  theatres  in  existence  at  that  date. 
Richard  Burbage,  the  foremost  actor  of  the  time,  who  after- 
wards popularized  all  Shakespeare's  great  characters,  was  in 
this  company,  as  were  also  Heming  and  Condell,  who  after  his 
death  brought  out  the  first  edition  of  his  plavs.  All  three  be- 
came his  life-long  friends.  Shakespeare,  having  thus  definitely 
chosen  his  profession,  set  to  work  to  make  himself    perfect    in 

'     Cnrid.  iii.  3.  120-135.  *     Hamlet,  iii.  1.  70-74. 


SHAKESPEARE.  115 

•every  detail.  Apparently  he  began  as  a  'call-boy,'  whose  duty 
it  is  to  see  that  each  actor  is  ready  to  step  on  the  stage  the 
moment  his  part  begins.  Another  tradition,  probably  founded 
on  fact,  relates  thai  Shakespeare  first  gained  his  London  liveli- 
hood by  taking  care  of  the  horses  of  the  fashionable  frequenters 
of  the  theatre  ;  and  that  he  organised  a  regular  service  of  boys 
for  this  business.  From  the  first  he  made  himself  useful  in 
every  possible  way ;  and  the  care  of  horses  would  be  a  con- 
genial task  to  one  accusto  ned  to  them  from  childhood. 
Shakespeare  loved  horses,  and  knew  all  their  points  as  perfectly 
as  a  farrier.1 

But  it  was  in    theatrical     business    proper    that    he     chiefly 
Actor  and  busied  himself.      He    was    a     good     all-round 

actor  ;  the  Ghost  in  Hamlet,  and  the  old  man 
Adam  in  As  You  Like  It  being  his  best  characters.  At  first 
no  doubt  he  made  himself  useful  by  taking  any  part  that 
happened  to  be  vacant,  and  thus  acquired  a  perfect  mastery  of 
stage-business.  But  it  was  as  an  adapter  and  improver  of  old 
plays  that  he  early  found  the  best  scope  for  his  genius.  Titus 
Andronicus  and  the  First  Part  of  Henry  VI  are  examples  of 
this  kind  of  work  ;  bombastic  and  blood-curdling,  but  yet 
showing  premonitions  of  the  master-craftsman's  hand.2 

Love's    Labour's  Lost  (1588 — 1590)  was  Shakespeare's  first 
original  production.     Dowden  describes  it   as 

First  play.  °  , r 

'a  satirical  extravaganza,  embodying  Shakes- 
.peare's  criticism  upon  contemporary  fashions  and  foibles  in 
speech,  in  manners,  and  in  literature.'  But  it  is  far  more. 
Shakespeare  embodies  in  it  his  whole  philosophy  of  life  ;  the 
one  maxim  by  which  he  steadfastly  guided  his  own  steps  — '  Do 
not  live  in  a  fool's  paradise  of  your  own  creation,  even  though 
it  may  tempt  you  under  the  guise  of  Religion  or  Philosophy. 
Take  human  life  as  a  whole  ;  look  its  facts  honestly  in  the 
face  ;  and  act  accordingly.' 

1  Ven.  and  Ad.,  265—318  ;  Mid.  JV.  Dr.,  ii.  1.  45—6  ;  Rich.  II,  v.  5. 
78—94. 

2  Hen.  IV,  i.  1.9-11    and   36—48;   Hen.    V,    iii.   7.   3—31;  Hen. 
VIII.,  i.  1.  132-4. 


116  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 


There  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  during  Shakespeare's 
studio  Italian  apprenticeship  to  the  stage  he  worked  hard, 
and  French  among  other    things,    at    Italian   and    French, 

under  the  great  teacher  of  those  languages,  John  Florio.  He 
drew,  later  on,  most  of  his  plots  and  characters  from  Italian 
romances.  Many  of  these,  it  is  true,  were  accessible  in  English 
versions,  but  the  story  of  Othello  had  not  been  translated. 
Italian  allusions  are  scattered  broadcast  through  his  plays.  As 
for  his  knowledge  of  French,  it  is  obvious  to  all  readers  of 
the  historical  dramas. 

Shakespeare's  reputation  as  an  actor,    a    dramatist,    and    a 

poet,  was  now  firmly  established.  In  September 

Adonis; 'Rape  of       1 5  92  his  predecessor  Greene  on  his    deathbed 

wrote    A     Groat'1  s-ivorth  of  Wit  bought  with  a 

Million    of    Repentance,     warning    his    fellow-authors     against 

piratical  actors  : — '  Yes,  trust  them  not  ;  for  there  is  an  upstart 

Crow,    beautified    with    our    feathers,  that  with  his  tvs'er's  heart 

ivrapl  in  a   player's   hide,1     supposes    he    is    as    well    able    to 

bumbaste    out    a  blank  verse  as  the  best  of  you  ;  and  being  an 

absolute  "  Johannes  Factotum  "  (J ack-of-all  trades),    is    in    his 

own    conceit   the    only    Shake-scene  in  the  country.'     Chettle, 

Greene's  publisher,  apologised  in  the  December    following    for 

this  attack : — '  Myself  have  seen  his  (Shakespeare's)  demeanour 

no  less  civil,  than  he  excellent  in  the  quality  (/.    e.    skill    as    an 

actor)    he    professes  :  besides    divers  of  worship  have  reported 

his  uprightness  of  dealing,  which  argues  his    honesty,    and    his 

facetious  (7.  e.  felicitous)  grace  in  writing,  that  approve  his  art.' 

The  expression  '  divers  of    worship  '    indicates    that    people    of 

good    social     standing    recognised    Shakespeare's   honourable 

character    as    a    man    and    excellence  as  a  writer.     His  poems 

Venus  inul  Adonis  (1 592)  and     The    Rape    of    Lucrece    (1593), 

both  dedicated  to  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  had  taken  the  town 

by   storm.       The    great  Spenser    eulogized    him    as    Willy    in 

Tear*  of  the  .Ifuses  (The  identification    is    somewhat    doubtful, 

■  Parodied  from  5  Sen.  VI.  i.  4.  137.  Greene  or  Marlowe,  or  both, 
are  supposed  to  have  written  the  original  play  which  Shakespeare 
improved  into  3  //•  nry  VI. 


SHAKESPEARE.  ■  117 

however)    and    he  twice  received  a  royal  command  to  perform 
before  the  Queen  at  Greenwich  (1594). 

To   this   period    belong    Shakespeare's    Early     Comedies. 

•Comedy  of  Loves    Labour's     Lost   was    followed    by    the 

Errors.'  Comedy  of  Errors  (1589-91),  his  sole  imitation 

of  the  old,  Roman  Comedy.  It  represents  the  farcical  adven- 
tures caused  by  a  man's  being  mistaken  for  his  twin  brother, 
and  was  probably  derived  from  an  English  translation  of  the 
Menoechmi  of  Plautus.  A  single  experiment  satisfied  Shakes- 
peare that  farcical  subjects  were  not  his  province,  for  he  never 
returned  to  them.  He  has  however,  as  usual,  improved  upon 
his  original  by  heightening  the  boisterous  fun  with  the  serious 
half-tragic  background  of  a  father  seeking  his  lost  children, 
and  in  his  direst  extremity  unrecognised  by  his  (supposed)  son. 
In  1 'wo  Gentlemen  of  Verona  Shakespeare  experimented 
'Two  Gentlemen      in  the  region  of   romantic  love  and  friendship, 

of  Verona."  anf|  sketched  those  graceful  types    of   woman- 

hood to  be  amplified  later  in  Rosalind,  Viola,  Portia,  and 
Imogen — characters  which  have  this  peculiarity  in  common, 
that  a  woman,  for  some  urgent  reason,  dresses  herself  as  a 
man,  and  pretends  to  be  one,  and  yet  remains  even  more 
womanly  than  ever  in  her  disguise.  Incidentally  this  play 
proves  that  Shakespeare  knew  Italy  only  from  books  or  hearsay, 
since  he  makes  Valentine  travel  from  Verona  to  Milan  by  sea. 
Similarly  in  The  Tempest  he  makes  Prospero  embark  on  a  sea- 
voyage  from  the  gates  of  Milan  ;  and  in  The  Winter  s  Tale 
the  King's  outcast  child  is  abandoned  on  the  sea-coast  of 
Bohemia  !  This  play  is  moreover  noteworthy  as  introducing  in 
the  person  of  Launce  the  first  of  Shakespeare's  richly  humorous 
and  profoundly  human  clowns  ;  a  series  which  leads  up  to  the 
inimitable  Falstaff.  But,  as  a  whole,  the  play  is  somewhat 
artificial  in  its  elaborate  antitheses— character  balanced  against 
character  ;  men  against  women  ;  gentle  folk  against  clowns. 
Shakespeare's    first     original    tragedy,    Romeo    and    Juliet 

■Romeo  and  (l5QI"3)>    ^   me    rmrse's    statement1    is  taken 

Juliet'  literally,    must    have    been    written    in     1591, 

1   Rom.  and  J  id.  i.  3.  23. 


118  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

eleven    years   after  the  earthquake  of  1580.     The  plot  is  taken 

from  a  mediaeval  story,  translated  into  English  verse  by    Arthur 

Brooke  in  1562,  and  into  prose  by  Paynter    in    his    Palace    of 

Pleasure,  1567.  Shakespeare  chiefly  followed  Brooke,  but  made 

the    characters    of    Mercutio,    the    hero's    witty  friend,  and  the 

heroine's  garrulous  nurse  almost  wholly  his  own. 

During   these    ten    years    Shakespeare's    company   like  all 

others,  regularly  went  on  tour  during  the  sum- 
Goes  on  tour.  '       °  J  ... 

mer  and  early  autumn  months,  its  visits  being 
recorded  at  most  of  the  important  towns  south  of  the  Midlands. 
Stratford  was  not  one ;  the  Stratford  town-council  absolutely 
prohibited  all  theatrical  companies,  largely  through  Sir  Thomas 
Lucy's  influence.  This  Puritan  hatred  of  the  stage  was  just  as 
strong  in  London,  where  all  the  theatres  had  to  be  built  outside 
the  City  boundaries.  Respectable  people  of  that  day  looked 
upon  theatres  as  more  disreputable  than  beerhouses.  No  decent 
woman  ever  went  to  a  performance,  unless  attended  by  male 
friends  ;  and  even  then  she  alwavs  wore  a  mask.  There  were 
no  women-actors;  boys  took  all  female  parts.  No  wonder  that 
at  times  Shakespeare  felt  his  surroundings  to  be  most  uncon- 
genial.1 Strangely  enough  it  is  in  a  Scottish  town,  Aberdeen, 
that  we  first  find  proof  of  stage-players  being  held  in  Public 
honour.  In  the  town-council  registers  we  find  that  Lawrence 
Fletcher,  the  King's  comedian,  with  several  others  all  described 
as  knights  or  gentlemen,  was  admitted  to  the  freedom  of  the 
borough  on  Oct.  22nd.  1601,  having  thirteen  days  previously 
been  paid  32  marks  by  the  council  for  the  services  of  himself 
and  a  company  of  players.  English  records  show  that  Shakes- 
peare's company  did  not  give  their  usual  performance  before 
Queen  Elizabeth  between  March  3rd,  1601  and  Dec,  26th, 
1602.  Thus  Shakespeare  may  have  been  one  of  Lawrence 
Fletcher's  company  at  Aberdeen.  Furthermore  on  James's 
accession  to  the  English  crown,  in  his  license  given  to  the  Lord 
Chamberlain's  company  (1603),  he  speaks  of  the  document  as 
given  to  '  Fletcher,  Shakespeare,  and  others  ; '  whereas  Richard 
Burbage  was    the    acknowledged    head    of  the    company,    and 


Sonnets,  <  \ .  oxi. 


SHAKESPEARE.  119 

would  naturally  have  been  named  first,  had  not  Shakespeare  as 
well  as  Fletcher  been  personally  known  to  the  new  sovereign. 
The  inference  is  thus  very  strong  that  Shakespeare  had  been 
associated  with  Fletcher  in  visits  to  Scotland  and  performances 
before  the  Scotch  court.  This  would  account  for  the  minute 
and  life-like  accuracy  of  the  scenery  in  Macbeth. 

Most  of  Shakespeare's  Sotinels  (excluding  40-42   and    127- 
•Sonnets-and         *54)    were   written    probably    in  1594.     They 
■Mr.  w.  h.'  were  published  in  a  pirated  edition  in  1609  by 

Thomas  Thorpe,  who  prefixed  a  dedication.  'To  the  only 
begetter  (  =  procurer)  of  these  ensuing  sonnets,  Mr.  VV.  H.'  It  has 
recently  been  shewn  that  the  attempts  to  identify  '  Mr.  VV.  H.' 
either  with  Henry  Wriothesle),  Earl  of  Southampton,  or  with 
William  Herbert,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  are  beside  the  mark.  'Mr. 
W.  H.'  was  William  Hall,  a  successful  pirate  publisher,  in 
league  with  Thorpe  ;  so  that  'only  begetter'  is  really  equivalent 
to  'thief.'  There  are  in  all  153  sonnets  :  125  addressed  to  a 
man  (with  a  sextet  of  couplets  as  Envoy),  and  28  to  a  woman. 
If  we  take  them  in  their  natural  sense,  the  former  group  are  the 
record  of  the  writer's  passionate  friendship  with  some  one  of 
higher  rank  than  his  own,  almost  certainly  the  Earl  of  South- 
ampton. The  latter  group  imply  that  Shakespeare  had  become 
entangled  in  an  intrigue  with  a  married  woman,  who  subse- 
quently left  Shakespeare  for  his  friend,  causing  a  temporary 
alienation  between  them.  That  Shakespeare  did  actually  go 
through  some  such  inward  tragedy  seems  probable  from  the 
great  spiritual  gulf  which  separates  the  bright  and  happy  early 
dramas,  culminating  in  Henry  V  and  As  Yon  Like  It,  from  the 
dark,  spiritual  abysses  revealed  in  Hamlet,  Ti?non,  Measure  for 
Measure,  and  Kitig  Lear.  That  he  wholly  recovered  from  its 
ill  effects,  and  learned  through  it  a  larger  wisdom  and  a  more 
benign  serenity  is  evidenced  by  the  closing  cycle  of  his  plays, 
aptly  named  the  'dramas  of  Reconciliation.'  Another  interpreta- 
tion is  that  after  the  publication  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  sonnets 
in  1  eg  1  this  form  of  composition  became  a  fashionable  craze, 
with  love  and  friendship  for  its  sole  themes.  Full  of  passionate 
protestation,  extravagant  hyperbole,  and  far-fetched  conceits,  no 


120  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

one  took  them  seriously  ;  and  since  Shakespeare's  Sonnets  con- 
tain all  these  elements,  they  may  have  been  meant  merely  as  an 
imitation  of  the  literary  vogue  of  the  time.  But  in  his  hands 
the  sonnet  becomes  a  new  and  living  thing.  With  few  excep- 
tions Shakespeare's  are  as  far  superior  to  all  other  Elizabethan 
sonnets  as  his  dramas  are  to  those  of  Marlowe  or  Greene. 
Milton  and  Wordsworth  are  his  only  rivals,  while  if  we  take  the 
Sonnets  as  the  embodiment  of  a  real  inward  history,  Tennyson's 
In  Memoriam  is  the  nearest  literary  parallel.  Shakespeare's 
collaboration  with  Marlowe  in  writing  the  Second  and  Third 
Parts  of  Henry  VI,  and  his  subsequent  creation  of  Richard  III 
while  still  under  Marlowe's  predominating  influence,  all  fall 
in  with  the  time  during  which  the  Sonnets  were  chiefly 
produced;  as  also  do  Richard  //and  King  John,  historical 
plays  in  which  Shakespeare  began  to  develop  his  own 
proper  genius.  Still  more  spontaneous  and  original  is  The 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream.  These  three  plays  are  separately 
noticed. 

A  brief  sketch  of  the  Sonnet  in  English    literature    may    be 
given    here.     Sir    T.     Wyatt's     sonnets     have 

The  Sonnet  in  .  ,  ,  ■   1      ti  tt      1 

English  ingenuity    and    grace,    but,    with   the    Earl    or 

Literature.  Surrey's,    are    but    respectable    commonplace. 

Sir  P.  Sidney  rises  above  this  dead  level.  His  work,  as  Lamb 
says  is  'stuck  full  of  amorous  fancies,'  but  these  conceits 
are  humanized.  Spenser  is  somewhat  disappointing  as  a 
sonneteer,  but  has  one  good  sonnet,  'One  day  I  wrote  her  name 
upon  the  strand.'  Drummond  of  Hawthornden  has  exquisite 
keenness  and  sensibility,  and  reflected  passion.  George 
Macdonald  calls  him  a  '  veiled  voice  of  song.'  Raleigh, 
Chapman,  Greene.  Drayton,  Donne,  Browne  give  us  few 
sonnets  that  repay  their  study,  except  that  fine  one  of  Donne's 
beginning,  '  Since  there's  no  help,  come  let  us  kiss  and  part,' 
and  another  of  Donne's  on  Death.  Stiakespeare  is  a  class  by 
himself  ;  the  great  mark  of  his  sonnets  is  intellectualised 
aion.  Milton's  are  unequal  in  conception,  but  there  is  a 
majesty,  a  splendour,  a  vastness  about  them  all.  One  of 
William  Roscoe's  and  one  or  two  of    Cowper's    are    worthy  of 


SHAKESPEARE. 


121 


remembrance.  Considering  both  quality  and  quantity,  Words- 
worth is  perhaps  the  greatest  of  English  sonnet-writers.  Milton 
overshadows  us,  Wordsworth  makes  us  feel  with  him.  All 
his  effects  are  explicable  and  calculable  ;  he  has  no  natural 
magic.  But  in  the  sonnet  he  is  never  diffuse  ;  his  style  is  at 
its  finest;  nervous,  sinewy,  compact,  yet  always  clear  and 
fluent.  Coleridge  is  inferior  ;  and  Hartley  Coleridge  is  superior 
to  his  father.  Charles  Tennyson-Turner  has  one  perfect 
sonnet,  The  Lattice  at  Sunrise.  Byron's  are  few,  but  good. 
Keats's  are  exquisitely  musical,  but  also  few.  The  same  may 
be  said  of  Shelley.  Leigh  Hunt  has  one  on  the  Nile,  in  which 
he  bore  the  palm  from  Shelley  and  Keats.  Hood's  Silence  and 
Death  are  rich  and  delicate.  Lamb,  Procter,  Clare,  Talfourd, 
Beddoes,  Blanchard  follow  as  sonneteers,  with  Blanco  White's 
magnificent  sonnet  on  Night.  Finally,  Elizabeth  B.  Browning 
and  D.  G.  Rossetti  have  written  excellent  sonnets;  but  this 
form  of  verse  seems  to  have  been  unsuited  to  the  genius  of 
Robert  Browning  and  Tennyson. 

About  1596  Shakespeare  returned  to  Stratford.  He  re- 
Returns  to  lieved  his  father  from  all  money  difficulties, 
Stratford.  which  up  to  that  date  had  been  unceasing 
and  urgent.  His  own  wife  had  been  forced  to  borrow  money 
from  her  father's  shephered — a  debt  which  Shakespeare  first 
heard  of  from  the  executor  of  the  shepherd's  will  in  1601. 
He  was  now  a  man  of  substance,  a  favourite  at  Court,  one  who 
would  soon  be  able  to  'write  himself  Armigero  in  any  bill 
warrant,  quittance,  or  obligation,'1  for  lie  eventually  succeeded 
in  obtaining  a  hereditary  coat-of-arms  for  his  father  in  1599. 
His  attempt  to  include  his  mother's  family  in  this  heraldic 
distinction  was  foiled,  apparently  through  the  jealousy  of  the 
Warwickshire  Ardens  of  Park  Hall.  In  May,  1597,  Shakes- 
peare took  the  first  step  towards  becoming  a  landed  proprie- 
tor by  the  purchase  of  New  Place,  the  largest  house  in  the 
town,  with  two  barns  and  two  gardens  attached.  But  through 
the  death  of    his    only    son    and    heir,    Hamnet,    in    1596,    his 

'*  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  i.  1.  9-11. 


122  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

cherished  ambition  of  founding  a  county  family  now  hung 
on  the  chances  of  either  daughter's  marriage.  The  elder, 
Susanna,  in  1607  married  Dr.  John  Hall,  a  successful  physi- 
cian. She  had  one  daughter  Elizabeth  born  in  1608,  who 
was  twice  married  but  left  no  children.  The  younger  daughter, 
Judith,  in  the  year  of  her  father's  death,  married  Thomas 
Quiny,  a  vintner,  and  had  three  sons,  all  of  whom  died  young. 
New  Place  itself  was  sold  out  of  the  family,  and  afterwards 
pulled  down  ;  and  in  1864  the  site  was  turned  into  a  public 
recreation  ground.  Thus  the  one  ambition  that  Shakespeare 
deliberately  made  the  object  of  his  life  proved  a  complete 
failure  ;  while  the  thing  he  never  once  thought  about,  his 
immortality  both  as  dramatist  and  poet,  is  an  assured  fact 
to-day. 

To    this    period    belongs    the    almost    farcical    comedy    of 
'Taming  of  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew    (1596-7)    which    is 

the  Shrew'.  an  improvement  by  Shakespeare  of  a  previous 

play.  The  Taming  of  a  Shrew  (1594),  by  another  author. 
Only  parts  of  it,  however,  are  by  Shakespeare's  own  hand.  It 
is  a  play  within  a  play.  In  the  Induction  a  drunken  tinker, 
Sly,  found  fast  asleep  by  a  lord,  is  taken  to  the  lord's  palace, 
drest  in  fine  clothes,  put  to  bed,  and  awakes  to  find  himself  a 
(supposed)  nobleman  who  for  fifteen  years  has  been  mad,, 
imagining  himself  a  tinker.  To  complete  his  cure,  a  company 
of  travelling  players  enact  before  him  an  amusing  kind  of 
history,  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew.  The  boisterous  element 
in  the  play  is  made  to  suit  the  intellectual  level  of  Sly,  and  as 
Shakespeare  had  no  further  use  for  him,  he  is  quietly  ignored 
at  the  end  (contrary  to  the  original  play,  in  which  Sly  awakes 
at  the  alehouse  door  from  'a  most  marvellous  dream'). 
Shakespeare's  part  in  the  comedy  lies  in  his  artistic  delineation 
of  Katharina,  the  shrewish  daughter  of  a  rich  gentlemen  of 
Padua,  and  of  Petnuhio,  a  gentleman  of  Verona,  who  by 
exuberant  animal  spirits,  joined  with  strength  of  will  and  un- 
failing good  humour,  makes  Katharina  accept  him  as  a 
husband,  and  at  last  turns  her  into  a  pattern  of  docility.  The 
storv  of  the    transformed    tinker    can    be    traced    back    to    the 


SHAKESPEARE  123 

Arabian  Nights,  and  to  a  story  told  of  Philip  the  Good  of 
Burgundy.  Sly  is  a  typical  Warwickshire  peasant  ;  he  is  so 
like  a  first  rough  sketch  of  Bottom  that  possibly  the  play  may 
have  first  been  written  in  1 59 1 ,  ami  afterwards  improved. 
There  is  strong  internal  evidence  that  The  Taming  of  a  Shrew 
was  written  by  Greene  (cf,  his  Orlando  Furioso  and  Alphonsus, 
King  of  Aragon)  ;  if  so,  one  can  understand  his  anger  at 
Shakespeare's    adaptation. 

The  Merry  Wives  of    Windsor    (1595)    is   another    play    of 
Merry  wives  of         tnis  period.     The  date  usually   given    '1598-9' 
Windsor.-  seems  impossible,  as  the  humour  of    the    play 

is  so  characteristically  inferior  to  that  of  Henry  IV or  Henry  V, 
and  bears  obvious  marks  of  the  prentice  hand.  The  Falstaff 
of  the  Metry  Wives  has  hardly  any  relationship  to  the  real 
Falstaff  ;  the  same  may  be  said  of  Nym,  Pistol,  and  Mrs. 
Quickly.  Dennis  in  1702  recorded  an  ancient  tradition  that 
the  play  was  written  in  fourteen  days  at  Queen  Elizabeth's 
special  command,  and  all  internal  evidence  favours  this 
tradition.  To  this  Rowe  afterwards  added  the  unwarranted 
assertion  th-it  Queen  Elizabeth's  motive  was  that  she  might 
see  Falstaff  in  love  (this  makes  it  follow  Henry  IV).  Two 
internal  points  almost  prove  the  date.  An  early  version  was 
published  in  quarto  (1602),  and  an  altered  version  in  folio 
(1623).  In  the  later  version  Falstaff  refers  pointedly  to  the 
gold  of  Guiana,  a  reference  not  found  in  the  quarto,  which 
therefore  was  persumably  written  before  Raleigh's  return  from 
Guiana  (1596).  Again  the  earlier  version  has  the  curious 
phrase  'cozen  garmombles'  (iv.  5.  78),  obviously  coined 
from  Count  Frederick  of  Mompelgard,  who  had  visited 
Windsor  in  1592,  had  been  authorised  to  take  post-horses 
gratis,  and  had  been  promised  the  Garter.  Queen  Elizabeth 
afterwards  took  a  dislike  to  him,  and  refused  him  the  Order 
when  he  applied  for  it  in  1595.  The  touch  of  contempt  implied 
in  the  word  'garmombles',  and  the  joke  on  his  free  post- 
horses,  exactly  fit  in  with  1595  but  the  jest  had  grown 
stale  later,  and  the  phrase  was  altered  to  'cozen-germans.' 


124  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

The    better    known    plays,  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  Henry 
Globe  Theatre  /F (in  two  parts;.  Henry   V,  Much  Ado  About 

Nothing,  As  You  Like  It,  Twelfth  Night, 
•Julius  Caesar  and  Hamlet,  will  be  subsequently  noticed  in 
detail.  The  four  last  in  this  list  were  all  closely  connected 
with  the  next  important  step  in  Shakespeare's  life,  his  settlement 
at  the  theatre  which  is  usually  associated  with  his  memory. 
In  1599  the  Burbages  demolished  The  Theatre,  Shoreditch, 
and  with  the  materials  built  the  Globe  Theatre  on  the  Bank- 
side.  It  was  octagonal  in  shape,  and  may  have  suggested 
the  'wooden  O'  of  the  opening  chorus  of  Henry  V.  Hence- 
forward it  was  Shakespeare's  professional  home  and  the 
chief  source  of  his  profits.  The  Blackfriars  Theatre  was  made 
out  a  dwelling-house  in  1596  by  the  actor  Burbage's  father, 
and  was  leased  out  to  the  boy-actors  known  as  the  'Queen's 
Children  of  the  Chapel'.  It  was  not  used  by  Shakespeare's 
company  till  after  his  retirement  from  the  stage.  These 
boy-actors  were  wonderfully  popular  for  a  time,  and,  led 
by  Ben  Jonson,  maintained  a  professional  war,  against 
the  older  companies.  This  theatrical  rivalry  is  referred  to  in 
Hamlet  (-11.  2.  354-375).  Ben  Jonson,  however,  bore  striking 
testimony  to  Shakespeare's  kindliness  and  impartiality  in 
the  dispute. 

Slnkespeare    was    equally    prudent    in    regard     to  political 

controversies.     The     deposition       scene       in 

IE*8e»mntnf!outh"       Richard    II   was   omitted     in     deference     to 

Queen  Elizabeth's  susceptibilities,    when    that 

play  was  first  published.     It  seems    therefore    impossible    that 

the    Richard    II  played    by  Shakespeare's  company  on  behalf 

of    the    Earl    of    Essex's    followers    in  1001  should  have  been 

Shakespear's    play.     Evidence    was     given  at  Essex's  trial  that 

this    was    'an    old    play,  so  long  out  of  use  that  nobody  would 

care  for  it':     in  fact  the  actors  were  paid  forty  shillings  to  cover 

their    loss.     Essex    was   executed,    and    Shakespeare's     friend 

Southampton    was    imprisoned  ;    but    nothing  was  done  to  the 

players,    a    sufficient    proof    that    they    were    in    no    way  privy 

to    the    plot.     Possibly    however    the    Queen's     harshness    to 


SHAKESPEARE.  125, 

Southampton  may  have  been  one  reason  why  Shakespeare,, 
though  solicited  to  do  so,  wrote  no  elegy  on  her  death.  King 
James  proved  a  more  appreciative  and  liberal  patron.  He 
released  Southampton  from  prison,  an  event  commemorated. 
in  Sonnet  CVII.  He  is  repeatedly  complimented  in  Shakes- 
peare's plays  ;  that  of  Macbeth  is  almost  a  deliberate  panegyric, 
though  the  praise  is  subtly  hidden  under  a  dramatic  veil. 

We  now  come  to  the  more  mature  group  of  Shakespeare's 
dramas  :  the  great  tragedies  and  the  tragical 
'AendsWwei|ttiat  comedies.  In  A  IPs  Well  that  Ends  Well  the 
story  of  Helena  an  Bertram  is  one  which  in 
other  hands  might  have  proved  repulsive.  Shakespeare  has 
suffused  it  with  spiritual  beauty,  and  transformed  it  as  com- 
pletely as  he  did  the  old  Taming  of  a  Shrew.  This  play,  with 
its  successors,  introduces  us  to  new  types  of  womanhood. 
Instead  of  the  emotional  grace,  the  defiant  cleverness,  or  the 
intense  passion  of  Shakespeare's  earlier  heroines,  we  have  now 
women  'distinguished  by  some  one  element  of  peculiar  strength,' 
and  contrasted  with  them  '  types  of  feminine  incapacity  or 
ignobleness .'  Helena  {All's  Well),  Isabella  {Measure  for 
Measure),  and  the  wife  of  Brutus  {Julius  Ccesar)  are  opposed 
to  Ophelia  and  Gertrude  {Hamlet)  and  Cressida  (  Troilus  and 
Cressida).  Portia,  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  stands  as  a 
connecting  link  between  the  earlier  and  the  later  types.  The 
two  keynotes  of  Helena's  character  are  strength  of  will  which 
never  degenerates  into  unwomanliness,  and  inflexible  pursuit 
of  a  fixed  aim.  Her  unswerving  love  is  the  guarantee  of 
Bertram's  final  salvation. 

Measure  for    Measure    (16031    certainly  belongs  to  Shakes- 
peare's   later    stage    of    saddened     experience. 
■Measure  for  npn      clear    reference   the  King  James's  dislike 

Measure  «.»•».».  o  j 

of  crowds  (i.  i.  68-73  !  '••  4-  24-29)  so  promi- 
nently noticeable  at  his  accession  to  the  English  crown,  and 
a  probable  reference  to  his  law  (1604)  punishing  with  death 
the  remarriage  of  divorced  persons  whose  partners  were 
living,  almost  fix  the  date.  In  this  play  Isabella  stands  out  as 
the    embodiment    of    Conscience    and  Religion.     She  alone  of 


12V)  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Shakespeare's  heroines  has  her  life  centred  in  the  invisible 
world.  Unlike  the  Pharisaic  ascetic  Angelo,  she  makes  the 
'body  the  servant  of  the  spirit.  Her  religion  is  so  real,  so 
intense,  that  even  the  coxcomb  Lucio  holds  her  as  '  a  thin? 
enskv'd  and  sainted.'  In  this  play  Shakespeare  comes  nearer 
than  in  any  other  to  a  statement  of  his  own  religious  and 
ethical  ideals,  Isabella  being  his  mouthpiece,  seconded  by 
the  Duke.  It  contains  many  of  the  best-known  proverbs  and 
poetic  jewels.  Mariana  in  her  'moated  grange'  is  the 
•theme  of  one  of  Tennyson's  most  vivid  and  musical  word- 
pictures  ;  and  the  solitary  stanza  'Take,  O  take  those  lips  away  !' 
is  perhaps  Shakespeare's  most  pathetic  gem.  The  story  is 
taken  from  Whetstone's  play  Promos  and  Cassandra  (1578) 
and  from  his  prose  version  of  the  same  story  in  the  Heptameron 
of  Civil  Discourses  (1582).  This  is  itself  taken  from  the  Italian 
Hecatommithi  of  Giraldi  Cinthio.  But  the  Duke's  disguised 
presence,  and  the  Mariana  episode,  both  ethically  all-important, 
are  Shakespeare's  own. 

Troilus   and    Cressida     (1603- 1609)    is    a    peculiar    and    a 

Troiius  and  difficult     play.        There    is    great    uncertainty 

about  its  date;  and  parts,    especially    Hector's 

last   battle,    appear  to  be  by  another  hand.     It  is  a  'comedy  of 

disillusion.'      Troilus,  young   and    inexperienced,    is    deceived 

by    the   shallow  and  sensual  Cressida.     The  Greek  heroes  who 

•fought   against    Troy    are    pitilessly     ridiculed.       Thersites    is 

coarser    than    the    half-brute   Caliban  of  the  Tempest.     Ulysses 

represents  mere    worldly    wisdom;    and    in    the    end     Troilus, 

after    his    agony    of  despised  love  and  disenchantment,  finds  in 

Hector's  death    the    motive    for     heroic    energy.     Shakespeare 

derived    the    plot     from     Chaucer's      Troilus     and     Creseide ; 

Caxton's    translation   from  the  French,  Recuyle^  or  Destruction 

of   7'r,>v:  and   (possibly)      Lydgate's      Troy    Boke  :     Thersites 

probably  from  Chapman's  Homer,     The  characters  of  Cressida 

and  Pandarus  are  deliberately  degraded  from  Chaucer's  ideal. 

The-     chief    of    the    group    of    dramas    forming    the    Later 

.  othe|lo.  Tragedy,  and  of  the  closing  comedies,  will    be 

discussed  separately.     The  rest  may  be  briefly 


SHAKESPEARE.  127 

•noticed  here.      Othello  (1604)  is  the  tragedy  of  a  man  of    noble 
and    unsuspicious  nature,  prone  to  extremes  of  violent  passion, 
who  is  deliberately  deceived  by  an  incarnate  fiend.     The    hero, 
Othello,    is    a    Moorish  general  of  the  Venetian  Republic,  who 
has  secretly  and  against  tier  father's  will,    married    Desdemona, 
the    daughter    of    a    Venetian    senator.     Cassio    has    just  been 
appointed  Ouiello's  lieutenant,  a  post   which    Iago    had    hoped 
to  obtain      In  revenge  Iago  poisons  Othello's  mind  with  doubts 
about    Desdemona's    loyalty,    until    at   last  he  believes  that  she 
has  been  guilty  of  an  intrigue  with    Cassio.     In   a   fit   of    mad 
fury    he    kills    her,    only    to    discover    how  utterly  he  has  been 
deceived,  upon  which  he  kills  himself  in  a  passion  of    hopeless 
remorse.       Desdemona     represents    the    tragedy    of     woman's 
gentle    timidity   and  submissive  love,  forced  by  man's  unreason 
to  take  refuge  occasionally  in    petty    falsehoods.     Her  father's 
tyranny    makes    her    deceive     him    about    her    marriage;    her 
husband's    mad    jealousy    drives    her    to    equivocate  about  the 
incriminating  handkerchief ;  and  her  selfless    love    and    loyalty 
force    her   to    die    with    the    falsehood  on  her  lips  that  she  has 
killed  herself.     '  Iago  is  the  serpent,'  the  liar  and    murderer    in 
one  ;    an    embodiment    of  mere  intellect  which  has  deliberately 
chosen  evil  for  its  good.     Shakespeare  in  this  one  instance   has 
succeeded    in    producing  a  perfect  portraiture  of  the  Evil  One, 
where  Milton    in    Paradise   Lost   has    failed    in    almost    every 
element    except    that    of    vastness  and  sublimity.     We  can  feel 
sympathy  for  Satan,  but  not  for  Iago. 

Antony    and    Cleopatra    is    the    climax    and    completion  of 

Julius    Caesar.       In    the    latter    play    we    see 

'  cieo^aVa^  Mark    Antony    at    his    ablest    and     best,    with 

glimpses  of  his  sensuous  weaknesses.     In   this 

play    we     rind    him    in    the    toils    of    Cleopatra.       Under     the 

witchery  of  her  beauty  and  her  wiles  he  becomes  false  alike    to 

domestic    and    political    honour ;  till    too    late    he  realises  her 

falsehood  and  his  own  hopeless  failure.     The   end    is    suicide, 

alike    for    himself    and    his    temptress ;    but    it  is  not  the  bold 

warrior-like  suicide  of  Othello  ;  a  touch  of  effeminate  cowardice 

is   artistically     suggested    in    each    case.      Of  Cleopatra   Mrs. 


128  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Jameson  well  says  :  :She  is  a  brilliant  antithesis,  a  compound  of 
contradictions;  of  all  that  we  most  hate  with  what  we  most  admire.' 
The  terse,  candid,  commonsense  of  Enobarbus,  Antony's  faith- 
ful friend,  serves  at  once  as  a  'Chorus'  to  the  play,  and  as  a  foil 
to  the  folly  and  duplicity  of  the  other  characters. 

Pericles    (1608)  was  really  a  joint-stock  piece  of  stage-craft.^ 
Shakespeare     wrote    onlv    the    part    in    which 

'  Pericles.  r  r 

Pericles  searches  for  his  daughter  Marina. 
Her  mother  Thaisa  was  supposed  to  have  died  at  her  birth 
during  a  storm  at  sea.  The  sailors  insist  on  having  the  dead 
bodv  thrown  overboard  ;  she  is  carefully  enclosed  in  a  chest 
which  is  found  by  some  fishermen.  The  climax  of  the  play  is 
the  happy  reunion  of  Pericles  with  his  long-lost  wife  and 
child. 

In  the   Winter's  Tale  (1610-1 1)  we  have  a  study  of  womanly 
The  winter's         endurance     under     crushing    and    undeserved 
Tale-  wrong.       Queen    Hermione,    irrationally    sus- 

pected of  infidelity  by  King  Leontes,  is  imprisoned,  and  her 
prison-born  babe  is  ruthlessly  exposed  in  Bohemia. 
Hermione  is  supposed  to  die  of  grief,  but  really  is  kept  in 
secret  by  a  noble  lady  Paulina.  Sixteen  years  later  we  see 
Perdita,  the  lost  child  of  Hermione,  brought  up  among 
rustic  surroundings.  Florizel,  the  young  prince  of  Bohemia, 
wins  her  love  ;  to  escape  his  father's  anger,  he  and  Perdita 
travel  to  the  court  of  Leontes,  where  the  mystery  of  Perdita's 
birth  is  cleared  up  ;  and  through  Paulina's  good  offices  Leontes 
recovers  his  wife  as  well  as  his  child.  The  rogue  Autolycus, 
one  of  Shakespeare's  happiest  creations,  is  almost  as  supreme 
in  the  latter  half  of  this  play  as  Falstaff  is  in  Henry  IV. 

The    play    of    Tivo    Noble  Kinsmen  (1609)  was  only  in  part 

•Two  Noble  written     by     Shakespeare;     for     most    of    it 

Kmsmen.  Fletcher      was     responsible         Shakespeare's 

share    is   the  main  plot,  taken  from  Chaucer's  Knights  Tale  of 

Palamon      and     Arcite    (cf.      Midsummer      Ni°hfs      Dream*). 

Fletcher's    part    is    of     little    worth  ;    Shakespeare    shews    the 


*  Where   a   similar    "Story   of   love    rivalry"  19  associated  "  with 

tin   -tit'   and  pageantry  "t  the  court  of  Theseus" — [Lloyd. ) 


SHAKESPEARE.  129 

master's   hand   only   in  the  force  of  its  diction  and  imagery ;  it 
has  little  dramatic  power. 

Another   joint   production  of    Shakespeare  and  Fletcher  is 
,„,..  Henry  VIII  (1612-3).     As  it  stands,   there  is 

Henry  VIII. 

no  dramatic  unity  in  it ;  it  is  rather  a  historical 
masque  than  a  real  drama.  It  was  probably  patched  up  by 
Fletcher  from  some  unfinished  first  draft  of  Shakespeare's,  and 
hurriedly  got  ready  for  the  stage  in  honour  of  the  Princess 
Elizabeth's  marriage,  February  16 16.  The  'bluff  King  Hal', 
Shakespeare's  embodiment  of  the  national  character  ;  Queen 
Katharine,  a  beautiful  study  of  patient  suffering  and  for- 
giveness; and  Cardinal  Wolsey,  an  equally  fine  study  of 
the  ruin  of  a  noble  nature  by  unscrupulous  ambition,  are  the 
leading  characters.  The  ill-fated  Buckingham  has  a  pathetic 
speech,  which  has  sometimes  made  a  rising  actor's  reputation. 
Wolsey's  'farewell  to  all  his  greatness'  (111.  2.  350-372)  has  been 
regarded  as  one  of  Shakespeare's  masterpieces  :  yet  the  best 
critics  declare  that  these  lines  are  undeniably  Fletcher's. 
Either  Shakespeare  imitated  Fletcher's  style  in  order  to  smooth 
over  the  joining  of  his  collaborator's  work  with  his  own,  or 
Fletcher  foronce  caught  something  of  Shakespeare's  inspiration. 
It  was  probably  about  1611  that  Shakespeare  finally  left  the 
stage   and    retired  to  live  the  life  of  a  country 

Retirement.  °  ,,  . 

gentleman  at  Stratford.  But  he  still  kept  up 
his  interest  in  the  stage,  and  his  associations  with  his  actor 
friends.  One  of  the  chief  of  these,  Augustine  Phillips,  had 
died  in  1605  ;  the  other  three,  Burbage,  Heming,  and  Condell, 
were  intimate  with  him  to  the  end.  Documentary  evidence 
proves  that  he  accumulated  a  considerable  amount  of  real 
property  (land  and  houses)  and  took  an  active  part  in  the 
municipal  and  parliamentary  affairs  of  his  native  town.  He 
accepted  philosophically,  as  inevitable,  the  steady  growth  of 
Puritanism  in  his  own  neighbourhood ;  indeed  the  creator 
of  Lear  and  Macbeth,  the  'fellow'  of  the  greatest  tragedians 
and  comedians  of  the  day,  would  hardly  regret  the  banishment 
of  second  rate  travelling  companies  from  the  Guild  Hall ;  and 
he    seems   to   have    accepted    with  equal  equanimity  having  a 

9 


130  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Gospel  preacher  billeted  upon  him  for  one  Sunday  at  New 
Place.- 

John  Shakespeare  had  died  in  1601  ;  Shakespeare's  eldest 
■End  of  His  anc*  favourite  daughter's  marriage  in  1607  nas 

Family  History.'  been  referred  to  above  (1 2  2)  ■,  at  the  close  of 
the  same  year  his  youngest  brother  Edmund,  an  actor,  died  in 
London,  aged  27.  The  poet  was  careful  to  keep  up  all  custo- 
mary ceremonies  of  grief,  and  paid  twenty  shillings  for  a  'fore- 
noon tolling  of  the  great  bell.'  In  September  1608  his  mother 
Mary  died.  His  youngest  daughter's  marriage  (122)  preceded 
by  about  two  months  his  own  death  on  April  23rd,  1616.  His 
widow  Anne  survived  him  for  seven  years  and  a  half.  She  was 
buried  near  him  in  the  chancel  of  Stratford  parish  church  ; 
but.  in  spite  of  her  wishes,  not  in  the  same  grave.  That  grave, 
seventeen  feet  deep  was  guarded  by  a  superstitious  dread.  On 
the  stone  were  engraved  these  words,  traditionally  ascribed  to 
Shakespeare  himself : — 

'Good  friend,  for  Jesu's  sake  forbear 
To  dig  the  dust  enclosed  here. 
Blest  be  the  man  that  spares  these  stones, 
And  curst  be  he  that  moves  my  bones.' 

But  for  this  curse  the  sexton  would,  according  to  his 
custom,  have  removed  Shakespeare's  remains  later  to  the 
adjacent  charnel-house. 

Shakespeare  soon  attained  a  reputation  higher  than  that  of 
anv  other  English    dramatist.     Ben    Johnson, 

His  reputation,  °  •>  ' 

whose  classical  tastes  somewhat  prejudiced 
him  against  Shakespeare's  revolutionary  genius,  nevertheless 
wrote  of  him,  'He  was  not  of  an  age,  but  for  all  time.'  Fourteen 
years  after  Shakespeare's  death,  Milton  in  a  fine  sonnet 
addressed  him  as  the — 

'Dear  son  of  memory,  great  heir  of  fame, 
Thou  in  our  wonder  and  astonishment 
Hast  built  thyself  a  lifelong  monument.' 

Towards    the    end    of    that    century    Dryden    declared    that 


SHAKESPEARE.  131 

Shakespeare  was  held  in  as  much  veneration  among  English- 
men as  Aeschylus  among  the  Athenians,  and  that  'he  was  the 
man  who  of  all  modern  and  perhaps  ancient  poets  had  the 
largest  and  most  comprehensive  soul.'  Goethe  said  of 
him,  'Shakespeare  is  a  being  of  a  higher  order  than  myself,  to 
whom  I  must  look  up  and  pay  due  reverence.'  His  fame  is  now 
world-wide.  No  book  except  the  Bible,  the  Pilgrim  s  Progress, 
and  the  Imitation  has  been  translated  into  a  greater  number 
of  languages. 

Shakespeare    himself,    however,  seems  to  have  had  no  idea 

Quartos  and  °^  nis  own  dramatic  greatness.    Those  passages 

Folios.  jn  hjg  Sonnets  in  which  he  predicts  the  immor- 

tality of  his  verse  are  mere  poetic  conventionalities.  He  looked 
upon  his  plays  as  the  stock-in-trade  of  the  Globe  Theatre ; 
and  like  other  dramatists  of  the  period  did  all  he  could  to 
prevent  their  publication.  Fortunately  for  us  this  was  no  easy 
task.  Pirate-publishers  sent  their  agents  to  take  notes  of  every 
popular  play;  they  begged,  borrowed,  or  stole  the  actors'  MSS; 
and  in  this  way  managed  to  print  very  imperfect  and  garbled 
renderings.  The  poet  in  self-defence  was  thus  sometimes 
driven  to  tolerate  the  printing  of  his  plays  from  a  correct 
stage- copy.  These  early  editions,  whether  pirated  or  authoris- 
ed were  all  printed  in  Quarto  form.  Each  Quarto,  contain- 
ing a  single  play,  sold  in  Shakespeare's  time  at  sixpence.  Most 
of  the  Quartos  were  republished  ;  and  some  attained  to  five 
editions  before  Shakespeare's  death.  The  first  edition  in 
FOLIO  form  of  Shakespeare's  plays  was  published  in  1623  by 
his  fellow-actors,  Heming  and  Condell.  The  Folio  contained 
all  Shakespeare's  works.  Successive  and  improved  editions 
were  subsequently  printed  :  the  Second  Folio  (1632),  Third  Folio 
(1663),  and  the  Fourth  Folio  (1685).  The  Quarto  editions 
often   furnish    useful  evidence  in  regard  to  the  date  of  a  play; 

see  Hamlet,  Date  and  Period. 

The   plays   themselves,   however  give  clear  evidence  of  the 

Style  and  Verse  Period    t0    which     they     belong— (i)    by    their 

Tests-  Style  (2)  by  Verse  Tests.     The  earlier   plays 

are   characterised    by  elaboration  of  the  expression  rather  than 


132  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

by  importance  of  the  thought.     In  the  middle    period   thought 
and    expression    perfectly    balance    each    other.     In    his  later 
period    thought   predominates    over  expression  ;   sentences  are 
close  packed  with  rapid  and  abrupt    changes    of    thought.     In 
the  early  plays,  as    distinguished    from    the    later,    Shakespeare 
indulges  in  far-fetched, conceits,  verbal  quibbles,  doggerel  verses, 
frequent  classical  allusions,  and  over-wrought  rhetoric  ;  there  is 
also  a  larger  proportion  of  rhymed  lines  to  blank    verse   and   a 
comparative  absence  of  prose.     But  the  most  important    differ- 
entiation lies  in  the  Verse  Tests.     These  are  : — (a)  The  propor 
tion  of  end-stopped  to    run-on    lines.     In   the    early    plays   the 
breaks  and  pauses  of  speech  come  almost    always    at   the    end 
of  the    line ;  later,    Shakespeare    increasingly    avoids   this    me- 
chanical stop,  and  makes  his  pauses  in   varying    places   in   the 
line  itself,  (b)  The  presence  of  light  or  weak  endings.     When  a 
line  closes   with  an   unimportant    monosyllable    such    as    'am' 
'could,'  'does,'  'had,'  on  which   the   voice    can    for    a   moment 
dwell,  it  is  said  to  have  a  light  endin  r ;  but  when  the  monosyl- 
lable is  one  which,  both  in  sense  and  pronunciation,    is    carried 
on  to  the  next  line,  such  as  'and,'  'if,'  'or,'  it  is  said  to   have    a 
weak    ending.     Weak    endings    are    wholly    absent    from    the 
earliest  plays  ;  few  light  endings  appear  till  we  reach    Macbeth; 
nor  weak  endings  till  we  reach  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  (c)    The 
presence  of  double  or  feminine    endings.     Normally    a    line    of 
blank  verse  ends  on  one  accented  syllable  ;  a  double  or  feminine 
ending  is  when  the  normal  line  has  an  extra  unaccented  syllable 
added     to     it     by     such    words    as    'cabin,'    'distinctly,'    etc. 
These  double  endings  are  rare  in  the  earlier,  and  numerous    in 
the  middle  and  later  plays. 

Shakespeare  as  a  man  seems  to  have   been    of    a    singularly 

kindly,     well-balanced,       harmonious    nature. 

That  he  had  strong  passions,  felt  keenly,  and 
loved  intensely,  can  be  doubted  by  no  one  who  reads  his  plays 
and  poems  with  sympathetic  insight.  But  the  most  marked 
feature  of  his  character  was  systematised  self-control,  and  the 
habit  of  always  looking  on  the  bright  and  beautiful  side  of 
things.     Thus  by  middle-age  he    attained    to    a   calm    serenity 


SHAKESPEARE.  133 

of  sympathetic  wisdom  which  made  him  universally  trusted 
and  beloved.  It  has  been  well  said  that  he  had  the  capacity 
for  musing  solitude  combined  with  that  of  observing  mankind. 
A  certain  constitutional  though  latent  melancholy  is  essential 
to  such  a  nature.  This  in  the  exceptional  characteristic  in 
Shakespeare.  In  short,  he  was  a  man  full  of  natural  sen- 
sibility, taking  a  keen  interest  not  only  in  the  general  and 
coarse  outlines  of  objects,  but  in  their  minutest  particulars  and 
gentle  gradations.  A  typical  story  of  Shakespeare's  personal 
life  has  recently  been  unearthed  from  the  Record  Office.  We 
find  that  from  1598  to  1604  he  lodged  in  Silver  Street,1  with  the 
family  of  a  Frenchman,  Christopher  Mountjoy,  a  maker  of 
fashionable  head-dresses  and  wigs.  Hence  perhaps  Shakes- 
pear's  noticeable  allusions  to  false  hair,  as  well  as  the  life-like- 
ness of  his  French  dialogues.  He  had  known  the  family  appa- 
rently for  several  years  before  he  lodged  with  them.  With  their 
apprentice,  Stephen  Bellot,  their  only  daughter  Mary  fell  in 
love.  She  confided  her  secret  to  her  mother ;  and  her 
mother  entrusted  Shakespeare  with  the  delicate  mission  of 
wooing  by  proxy — a  sort  of  prose  version  of  the  Viola  episode 
in  Twelfth  Night.  Shakespeare  was  successful,  and  the  young 
people  married  and  lived  happily  ever  afterwards.  For  one 
such  recorded  act  of  sympathetic  kindliness  on  Shakespeare's 
part  we  may  well  infer  hundreds  more  which  have  passed 
away  into  the  unknown.  Tennyson  has  no  doubt  struck  the 
keynote  of  Shakespeare's  character  and  Shakespeare's  life  in 
one  pregnant  phrase,  when  apostrophising  his  lost  friend 
Hallam,    he  says — 

^1  loved  thee  spirit  and  love,  nor  can 
The  soul  of  Shakespeare  love  thee  more.' 
The  most  marked   feature    in   Shakespeare's  genius  is   its 
As  a  writer;  his      universality.     The  whole  range  of  human  life, 
universality.  foe   deepest   arKj    most   intricate    recesses   of 

the    soul,    lay   before    him  as  an    open    book    and    have   been 

1  Ben  Jonson  in  the  Silent  Woman  describes  a  lady  thus  : — 'All 
her  teeth  were  made  in  the  Blackfriars  ;  both  her  eyebrows  in  the 
Strand,  and  her  hair  in  Silver  Street. 


134  A   HANDBOOK  OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

illuminated  in  every  part.  With  keen  dramatic  instinct 
he  has  balanced  all  life's  contrasts  and  harmonised  its 
contradictions ;  his  sympathetic  insight  draws  out  the 
salient  characteristics  of  men  and  women  of  almost 
every  type  and  social  grade  ;  and  by  the  same  sympathetic  in- 
sight he  reveals  the  latent  force  of  personality  even  in  the 
most  obscure  or  stunted  specimens  of  humanity.  Nor  has  any 
writer  faced  with  more  fearless  gaze  the  mysteries  of  that  vast 
unknown  by  which  our  little  lives  are  shrouded  in  impenetrable 
darkness.  And  in  his  plays,  all  these  diverse  elements  are 
rounded  into  a  perfect  dramatic  whole  by  the  supreme  control 
of  some  dominating  passion. 

In  the  Elizabethan  drama  mere  dialogue  held  a  less  im- 
His  mastery  portant    position    than    it  does  to-day.     The 

of  dialogue.  stage  was  than  recognised  as    the    appropriate 

place  for  a  large  amount  of  declamation,  philosophising,  or 
satire,  which  was  introduced  for  its  own  sake  rather  than 
because  it  expressed  the  speaker's  situation  or  personality. 
And  Shakespeare's  plays  furnish  passages  of  this  kind.  But 
in  the  art  of  making  dialogue  the  natural  and  inevitable 
outcome  of  the  speaker's  inmost  self  responsive  to  its 
environment,  Shakespeare  has  no  equal.  His  plays  abound 
in  natural  touches  which  make  his  characters  live  before  us. 

It  has  been    questioned    how    far    Shakespeare's    self    is 

is  he  in  his  revealed  in  his    characters.     All    critics   allow 

characters.  that  Hamiet  js  probably  the  nearest  approach 

to  the  unveiling  of  Shakespeare's  soul  ;  and  Prospero's 
personality  seems  to  have  been  consciously  intended  as  a 
deliberate  verdict  on  his  own  life  work  as  a  dramatist,  upon 
taking  his  farewell  of  the  stage.  Taine,  again,  maintains  that 
the  poet  pictured  himself  in  the  character  of  Jaques  (159).  But 
the  inimitable  Falstaff  was  in  some  respects  the  truest  embodi- 
ment of  that  Shakespeare  who  was  the  life  and  soul  of  the  'wit 
combats'  at  the  Mermaid's  Tavern.  While,  however,  we  may 
amuse  ourselves  with  such  speculations,  the  general  truth 
remains  that  he,  the  'myriad-minded,'  was  too  great  to  step  down 
from  his  beings  height  and  merge  his   own  personality    in    the 


SHAKESPEARE.  135 

passions  of  his  characters.  He  'beheld  the  tumult  and  was  still'. 

It  must,  however,   be    admitted   that   Shakespeare   had  his 

limitations.     It  is  a  remarkable   fact   and    one 

His  iimitations.  r  ,  ,  ,       , 

not  easy  to  account  tor,  that,  though  he  was 
twenty-four  years  of  age  and  had  been  in  London  for  certainly 
more  than  a  year  when  the  nation  was  all  aflame  with  excite- 
ment over  the  Spanish  Armada,  yet  he  has  not  written  a 
line  that  shows  the  slightest  impress  on  his  own  mind  of  that 
epoch-making  event.  There  is,  too,  little,  if  any  trace  in  his 
plays  of  personal  contact  with  the  master-spirits  of  his  time,  the 
Raleighs,  the  Drakes,  or  the  politio  Burleighs,  whom  he 
must  have  seen  and  met  at  Court.  The  mere  man  of  action, 
the  mere  politician  or  adventurer  he  took  little  interest  in, 
and  when  any  approach  to  such  a  type  is  necessarily  prominent 
in  his  plays,  as  Henry  V  or  Julius  Cassar,  we  feel  that  in  such 
delineations  he  is  working  against  the  grain.  As  Mr.  Frank 
Harris  has  pointed  out,  Shakespeare  never  drew  a  miser,  a 
fanatic,  or  a  reformer ;  he  'never  conceived  a  man  as  swimming 
against  the  stream  of  his  time ' ;  his  Jack  Cade  is  a  mere 
caricature,  and  in  his  Joan  of  Arc,  for  which  he  must  be  held 
at  least  editorially  responsible,  he  entirely  failed  of  that  sym- 
pathetic insight  which  makes  his  portrait  of  Shylock  rise  so 
marvellously  above  the  prejudices  of  his  age.  Lastly,  he  never 
studied  and  never  understood  the  Puritan  middle  classes  of 
his  own  day,  the  men  from  whom  Cromwell  drew  his  Ironsides, 
and  of  whom  Milton  was  at  once  priest  and  poet. 

The  following  list  of  Shakespeare's  plays    and    poems    will 
......  be    convenient    for    reference.      With    some 

List  of  plays. 

deviations,  it  follows  the  general  order  given 
by  Dowden  and  Furnivall.  The  double  dates  {e.g.  1590-2) 
imply  an  uncertain  date  lying  between  those  limits. 

Earliest  Plays  Written     Published 

Titus  Andronicus      ...  ...  1588  1600 

1   Henry  VI  ...  ...  1590-2  1623 

Poems 
Venus  and  Adonis    ...  ...         1592  1593 


136  A   HAXDBOOK   OF  ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Lucrece  ...  ...         1593  x594 

Sonnets  (the  majority)  ...  1593"5  1609 

Marlowe-Shakespeare  History 


2  &  3  Henry  VI 

... 

1591-2 

1623 

Richard  III 

•  •  • 

1593 

1597 

Early  Comedy 

Love's  Labour's  Lost 

•  •  • 

1588-90 

1598 

Comedy  of  Errors    ... 

•  •  • 

1589-91 

1623 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona 

... 

I590-3 

1623 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream 

... 

1593-4 

1600 

Early  Tragedy 

Romeo  &  Juliet 

•  •  • 

x59'-3 

1597 

Middle  History 

Richard  II 

... 

"1593-4 

1597 

King  John 

•  •  • 

1595 

1623 

Middle  Comedy 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor 

•  ■  . 

1595 

1602 

Taming  of  the  Shrew 

•  •  . 

1596-7 

1623 

Merchant  of  Venice... 

•  .  • 

1596 

1600 

Later  History 

1   Henry  IV 

•  •• 

1596-7 

1598 

2   Henry  IV 

•  •  • 

1597-8 

1600 

Henry  V 

•  •  * 

*599 

1600 

Later  Comedy 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing 

1598-9 

1600 

As  You  Like  It 

1 599- 1 600 

1623 

Twelfth  Night 

•  •  • 

1601 

1623 

Middle  Tragedy 

Julius  Caesar 

.  •  • 

1 600-1 

1623 

Hamlet 

... 

1602-3 

1603 

Tragical  Comedy 

All's  Well  that  Ends  Well 

•  .  • 

1601-2 

1623 

Troilus  &  Cressida  (revised  1 

607?) 

1603 

1609 

Measure  for  Measure 

•  •  • 

1603 

1623 

SHAKESPEARE.  137 

Later  Tragedy 
Othello 
L,ear       ...  ...  ... 

Macbeth 

Antony  and  Cleopatra 

Coriolanus 

Timon  (part) 

Romances 
Pericles  (part) 
Two  Noble  Kinsmen  (part) 
Cymbeline 
Winter's  Tale 
Tempest 

Latest  History 
Henry  VIII  (part)    ...  ...  1612-3  1623 


Written  Published 

1604 

1622 

1605 

1608 

1605-6 

1623 

1606-7 

1623 

1607-8 

1623 

1607-8 

1623 

1608 

1609 

1609 

1634 

1609-10 

1623 

1 6 1 0- 1 

1623 

1610-1 

1623 

SPECIAL  PLAYS. 
RICHARD  III. 

There    is    little    direct    evidence    of   the    date    of  this  play 
_  ,  (ISQV4).     It  was  first  printed  in  1507,  and    is 

Date  and  period.         v    jyj-n  r  jyii 

possibly  alluded  to  in  Weever's  Epigrammes 
(1599).  As  regards  its  period  the  internal  evidence  is  conclu- 
sive. 'In  point  of  literary  style,'  says  W.  A.  Wright, 
'command  of  language,  flexibility  of  verse,  and  dramatic  skill, 
it  is  an  earlier  composition  than  Richard  II  and  King  John, 
and  separated  by  no  long  interval  from  3  Henry  VI'.  The 
diabolic  energy,  the  all-dominating  self-assertion  of  the  hero 
is  essentially  'Marlowesque,'  as  are  its  peculiarities  of  style. 
Shakespeare  had  worked  with  Marlowe  in  2  and  3  Henry  VI  ; 
he  carried  on  the  character  of  Gloucester  independently  in 
this  play,  in  which  Marlowe's  influence  was  still  predominant. 
This  influence  is  further  shown  by  the  comparative  preponder- 
ance of  blank  verse  over  rhyme  in  so  early  a  period  of 
Shakespeare's  dramatic  career. 

Richard,     Duke    of   Gloucester   (afterwards    Richard    III) 
induces   Edward    IV    to    have    their     brother 
Clarence    murdered     in    prison.     He    wooes 
and  wins  Anne,  whose  husband  he  and  Clarence  had  butchered 
after  Tewkesbury.    On  Edward  IV's  death,  with  Buckingham's 
help  he  confines  Prince  Edward  and  his  brother   the    Duke    of 
York  in  the  Tower ;  procures  the  execution  of  the  late  Queen's 
chief  relatives,  and  of  Lord  Hastings  ;  and  is    proclaimed    king 
in    London.     He    suborns  Tyrrel  to  murder  the  princes  in  the 
Tower,  discarding  Buckingham   for    his    unwillingness    to    aid 
in  so  infamous  a  deed  ;  gets  rid  of  his  wife  ;  and  plots  to  marry 
his  own  niece  the  Princess  Elizabeth  of  York.     After  Bucking- 
ham's arrest  and  execution  he  marches  to    oppose    Richmond 
and  is  killed  in  the  battle  of  Bosworth.    Richmond  is  crowned 
and  peace  secured  by  his  marriage  with  the  Princess  of    York. 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  139 

The   main   outlines  of  the  plot  are  taken  very  closely  from 
Holinshed's     Chronicle,    and      from      Hall's 

Source. 

Chronicle ;  the  latter  was  largely  compiled 
from  Sir  Thomas  More's  Life  of  Richard  III.  Several 
minute  details,  peculiar  either  to  Hall  or  Holinshed,  prove 
that  Shakespeare  used  both  sources  ;  and  one  historical  mistake, 
'at  our  mother's  cost'  (v.  3.  324),  proves  that  he  used  the  2nd 
edition  of  Holinshed  (1586-7).  Shakespeare  took  a  certain 
amount  of  dramatic  license  in  using  these  materials.  Thus 
the  wooing  of  Anne  is  his  own  invention  ;  and  he  freely  in- 
troduces Queen  Margaret  in  scene  after  scene,  though  she 
died  in  1482,  a  year  before  Edward  IV,  and  had  lived  either 
in  prison  or  privacy  after  Tewkesbury  (1471).  The  opening 
of  Act  I  was  really  six  years  before  Clarence's  deaih,  and 
twelve  years  before  King  Edward's  death  ;  these  intervals  are 
dramatically  overlooked.  The  Satanic  character  of  Richard 
comes  from  More,  whom  Hall  copies  closely. 

One  special  difficulty   in  this  play   is   the   text.     The   first 
Text  edition  of  the  quarto  text  (1597)  and  the    first 

edition  of  the  folio  text  (1623)  each  contain 
essential  passages  not  found  in  the  other.  The  folio 
text  also  contains  passages  amplified  from  the  quarto  in 
Shakespeare's  style  ;  and  unessential  passages,  also  Shakes- 
pearean ;  and  besides  these,  many  insertions  or  alterations 
evidently  non-Shakespearean.  As  to  the  relative  authority  of 
these  two  sources  of  the  text  eminent  critics  flatly  contradict 
each  other.  Probably  the  quartos  were  an  imperfect  edition 
of  Shakespeare's  genuine  early  text ;  the  folio  embodies  his 
own  later  amendments  as  well  as  unwarranted  alterations  by 
later  actors  and  playwrights. 

Queen    Margaret,    widow   of    Henry   VI,    hovers   over  the 

other  actors  like  an  incarnate  spirit  of  revenge. 
Characters.  Ann(^  Richard>s  wife)  is  described  by  Richard 

himself  (1.  2.  231-255),  much  as  Hamlet  describes  his  mother, 
'Frailty,  thy  name  is  woman'  (1.  2.  137-156),  though  the 
frailty  is  merely  of  will  and  judgment,  and  not  of  moral 
nature.     Elizabeth,   Edward    IV's    widow,    Richard    has     also 


140  A   HANDBOOK   OF  ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

described  in  one  line,  '  Relenting  fool  and  shallow  changing 
woman'  (iv.  4.  431),  where  her  moral  judgment,  not  her  cha- 
racter, is  censured.  Both  are  womanly  women,  faultless  as  wives 
and  mothers.  The  one  out-standing  character,  Richard  himself, 
is  the  gigantic  personification  of  one  overmastering  idea  ;  the 
will  of  a  man  who  deliberately  esteems  God  and  man  alike 
as  of  no  account ;  the  one  inevitable  thing  being  his  own  self- 
assertion  in  outward  act.  Pistol's  brag  'The  world's  mine 
oyster,  which  I  with  sword  will  open' l  is  the  serious  creed  of 
Richard's  life.  There  is  no  subtle  character-drawing  in  this 
play  .-  two  touches  alone  show  Richard's  kinship  with  humanity  : 
his  admiration  for  his  father,2  which  is  rather  family  pride  than 
personal  love  ;  and  his  half-dreaming  cry  of  fear,  'Have  mercy, 
Jesu'.3  Nor  is  there  any  comic  relief;  and  the  murderer's  des- 
cription of  the  two  princes  asleep  in  their  bed  of  death  is 
almost  the  only  touch  of  simple,  pathetic  beauty. 

The    supernatural   element    in    this    play  is  equally  simple 
Supernatural         and  primitive  ;  a  string  of    stage    ghosts,    who 
enter    'to    point  the  moral  and  adorn  the  tale', 
before  the  drama  ends. 


Date. 


MIDSUMMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM. 

This  play  (1593-4)  was  published  in  quarto  twice  in  1600, 
first  by  Fisher,  then  by  Roberts,  each  time  so 
accurately  as  probably  to  have  been  taken 
from  a  genuine  MS.  It  is  mentioned  by  Meres,  1598.  This 
external  evidence  fixes  the  date  before  1598.  Internal  evidence 
from  allusions  is  doubtful.  It  is  obviously  in  form  a  masque 
(p.  1 1),  and  was  probably  not  written  primarily  for  the  stage,  but 
to  grace  the  wedding  of  some  noble  friend  or  patron  of  Shakes- 
peare. This  could  not  have  been  Southampton,  for  he  was   not 


1   M>  try  Wives  of  Windsor  ii.  2.  2-3. 

Richard  III.   i.  3.  263-5 ;  3  Henry  VI.  ii.  1.  9-20. 
»  V.  3.  17s. 


SPECIAL  PLAYS  141 

married  till  1598  :  nor  has  any  other  conjecture  proved  satis- 
factory. Again,  the  lines  'The  thrice  three  Muses  mourning 
for  the  death  Of  learning  late  deceased  in  beggary'  probably 
contain  a  reminiscence  of  the  title  of  Spenser's  Tears  of  the 
Muses  (1591,  100),  and  refer  to  Robert  Green's  death  (1592 
see  14)  and  the  Nash  versus  Harvey  controversy  over  Greene 
('some  satire  keen  and  critical'1)  ;  but,  if  so,  the  references  are 
rather  loose.  Again,  Titania's  description  of  the  weather2 
fits  in  remarkably  with  that  of  1594,  except  that  the  harvest  of 
that  year  was  but  slightly  injured. 

There  is  clearer  proof   of  the    period.     The  rhyme-test   is 
Period  indeed    inapplicable,    since     its     masque-like 

character  necessitates  a  predominancy  of 
rhyme.  But  the  regularity  of  the  blank  verse,  the  elaborate 
symmetry  of  the  plot,  the  rural  buoyancy  of  tone,  and  the  com- 
parative absence  of  characterisation  point  it  out  as  belonging  in 
the  main  to  the  same  Early  Group  as  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona  ;  while  the  artistic  finish  and  subtle  humour  of  Bottom 
mark  it  as  the  climax  of  that  group.  Queen  Mab3  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet  (15  91 -3)  is  a  first  rough  sketch  of  Titania  ;  as 
Dromio's  speech  about  fairies4  in  the  Comedy  of  Errors 
(1589-91)  is  a  similar  anticipation  of  Puck's  drolleries. 

The  play  opens  with  preparations  for  the  marriage  of 
Theseus,  Duke  of  Athens,  with  Hippolyta, 
Queen  of  the  Amazons.  Egeus  appears  before 
the  Duke  to  complain  that  Lysander  has  won  his  daughter 
Hermias  love,  though  he  himself  had  chosen  Demetrius  for 
her  husband.  The  latter  had  forsaken  Hermia's  friend  Helena. 
Lysander  and  Hermia  escape  from  Athens,  and  lose  themselves 
in  a  neighbouring  wood  at  night  ;  whither  Demitrius  follows 
them  in  revenge,  himself  pursued  by  Helena.  Bottom  and  his 
fellow-craftsmen  meet  at  Quince's  house  and  arrange  to  play  the 
'lamentable  comedy'  of  Pyramus  and  Thisbe  at  the  Duke's  wed- 
ding feast.  They  agree  to  rehearse  in  the  wood.  Here  Oberon, 

1  V.  1.  52-55.  3  I.  4.  53-95. 

2  II.  1.88-117.  4  II.  2.  190-4. 


142  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

the  fairy  king,  and  his  jester  Puck  put  an  ass's  head  on 
Bottom  and  frighten  away  the  other  actors.  By  magic 
unguents  they  cause  Titania  the  fairy  queen  to  fall  in  love 
with  Bottom,  and  bring  about  a  perfect  'Comedy  of  Errors' 
among  the  engaged  couples.  Oberon  sets  everything  right  in 
the  end  :  Demetrius  pairs  with  Helena,  Lysander  with  Hermia ; 
and  Bottom's  laughable  play  turns  out  a  great  success  at  the 
wedding  feast.  The  action  of  the  play  begins  on  April  29th 
and  ends  after  the  midnight  following  May  1st.  incorrectly 
reckoned  by  Theseus  as  'four  days.' 

The  main  story  is  taken  from  Chaucer's  Knight's  Tale  ;  but 
the  incidents  are  placed    before   the    marriage 

Source.  v  ° 

instead  of  after  ;  and  Hippolyta's  sister  Emelie 
is  transformed  into  Helena  and  Hermia,  so  as  to  make  two 
happy  couples,  instead  of  the  tragic  rivalry  of  two  lovers  which 
forms  the  theme  of  the  doubtful  play  of  Tivo  Noble  Kinsmen. 
The  Olympian  deities  who  give  supernatural  guidance  in  the 
latter  play,  are  here  replaced  bv  mischief-loving  fairies.  The 
May  Day  rites,  and  the  delights  of  hunting  are  also  taken  from 
Chaucer.  Oberon  figures  in  Greene's  play  of  James  IV ;  and 
his  fairy  realm  is  described  in  the  mediaeval  Huon  of  Bordeaux, 
translated  from  French  into  English  (1534).  Titania  (or  Diana) 
is  taken  from  Ovid's  Mttamorphoses, — the  classical  mythology 
being  popularly  identified  with  fairy-lore.  There  is  in  Chaucer 
a  hint  for  Oberon's  quarrel  with  Titania,  and  for  his  good  offices 
to  the  lovers.  Spenser's  Faery  Queen  (1590)  may  have  given 
some  suggestions  ;  he  mentions  Sir  Huon  and  King  Oberon. 
The  story  of  Py ramus  and  Th'ube  Shakespeare  found  in  Ovid's 
Metamorphoses,  one  of  his  school-books,  but  perhaps  better 
known  to  him  through  Golding's  translation,  It  is  also  briefly 
alluded  to  in  Chaucer's  Merchant's  Tale.  We  have  seen  (in) 
how  the  Kenilworth  pageant  suggested  Oberon's  'vision'  (11. 
1.  148-167)  possibly  the  'mermaid  on  a  dolphin's  back'  may 
be  a  veiled  reference  to  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  the  Dauphin's 
(=dolphin)  widow,  and  'certain  (shooting)  stars'  to  the 
infatuation  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and  other  nobles  for  her. 
The  'little  western  (lower'  has  with  less  reason  been  allegorical- 


SPECIAL    PLAYS.  143 

ly  identified   with   Lettice,    Countess    of    Essex,    with    whom 
Leicester  had  an  intrigue. 

Theseus,  in  the  sphere  of  romance,  like  Henry  V  in  English 
history,  is  Shakespeare's  ideal  type  of  the   suc- 

Characters. 

cessful  man  of  action,  who  bends  the  world  to 
his  will.  In  him,  as  in  Prince  Hamlet,  we  find  a  gracious  and 
sympathetic  condescension  to  the  actors,  third-rate  as  these  are. 
The  closing  interlude  is  a  good-humoured  satire  on  the  masques 
or  revels  with  which  the  tenantry  used  to  honour  -  their 
superiors,  such  as  The  Nitie  Worthies  at  the  close  of  Love's 
Labours  Lost,  and  the  schoolmaster's  dancing-show  before 
Theseus,  Hippolyta,  and  Emilia  in  Two  Noble  I\insmen.  It 
gives  an  opportunity  (as  in  Hamlet)  for  the  Hero  to  utter  some 
useful  dramatic  criticism,  and,  like  the  Chorus  in  Henry  V, 
enables  Shakespeare  himself  to  apologise  for  the  inevitable 
imperfections  of  scenery  and  stage  management.  The  only 
other  character  of  mark  is  Bottom.  Dowden  calls  him  '  incom- 
parably a  finer  efflorescence  of  the  absurd  than  any  preceding- 
character  of  Shakespeare's  invention.  Bottom  and  Titania 
meet — an  undesigned  symbol  that  Shakespeare's  humour  has 
enriched  itself  by  coalescing  with  the  fancy.'  He  stands  about 
halfway  between  Sly  and  Falstaff,  with  a  far  wider  range  of 
ability  and  unconscious  humour  than  the  former,  but  with  none 
of  the  keen  wit  or  conscious  predominance  of  the  latter. 
e  .      .  For   the    Supernatural    Element   see  under 

Supernatural  * 

Element.  trijs  heading  in  The  Tempest. 


RICHARD  II. 


This  play  (1593-4)  was  first  published  in  the  quarto,    1597, 

Date  and  Wltn   ^e  omission  of  the  deposition  scene  (iv. 

Period.  1.  154-318);  it    was    published    complete    in 

1608.     The  deposition-scene  was  probably  omitted  for  political 


144 


A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 


reasons,  since  Elizabeth's  own  deposition  by  her  subjects  was 
encouraged  by  the  Pope  and  the  Catholic  sovereigns.  In  style 
and  dramatic  characterisation  the  play  is  obviously  more 
mature  than  Richard  III,  though  its  frequent  rhymed  couplets 
and  crude  conceits  show  an  early  period,  and  traces  of  Mar- 
lowe's Edward  II  prove  it  to  be  not  much  later  than 
Richard  III. 

It    is   difficult  to  understand  the  play  without  a  clear  know- 
ledge of   the    relation    in    which     Richard    II 

Richard  Ms  .  .  .  .    ,  <•  . ,         , 

relationship  to         stands   to   the   chief  personages  of  the  drama, 
"ages.      This  is  best  shown  by  a  genealogical  tree  :  — 

Edward  III. 


Edward  (Black     John  of  Gaunt, 
Prince)  Duke  of  Lancaster 


Richard  II- 
Queen 


Henry  of  Hereford 

(Bolingbroke) 
afterwards  Henry 
IV 


I 
Edmund  of  Lang- 
ley,  Duke  of  york 
Duchess  or 
York 

I 
Aumerle  (Rut- 
land) 


I    . 
Thomas  of 
Woodstock, 

Duke  of 
Gloucester — 
Duchess  of 
Gloucester 


Plot. 


Bolingbroke  accuses  Norfolk  before  the  King  of  treason, 
and  especially  of  having  compassed 
Gloucester's  judicial  murder.  They  fight  a 
duel  at  Coventry ;  but  the  king  stops  the  combat,  and  banishes 
Bolingbroke  for  a  term  of  years  and  Norfolk  for  life.  After 
Gaunt's  death  Richard  seizes  his  estate  and,  leaving  York  as 
his  deputy,  goes  to  subdue  the  rebellion  in  Ireland.  Boling- 
broke returns  to  claim  his  rights  ;  executes  the  King's  favourites 
Bushey  and  Green  ;  and  places  his  demands  before  the  King  at 
Flint  Castle.  Richard  follows  Bolingbroke  to  London,  where  in 
full  Parliament  he  is  deposed  and  sent  as  a  prisoner  to  Pomfret 
Castle.  There  in  a  fit  of  rage  he  fights  his  keepers  and  is  killed. 
Bolingbroke  crushes  a  conspiracy  in  which  Aumerle  had 
become  entangled,  and  freely  forgives  him  on  his  mother's 
intercession.  Exton,  through  whose  contrivance  Richard  had 
met  his  death,  is  banished,  and  the  new  king  vows  a  penitential 
pilgrimage  for  his  own  sin  in  instigating  Exton  to  the  murder. 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  145 

The  plot  is  taken  from  Holinshed's  Chronicle,  the  2nd, 
edition,  which  alone  records  the  withering  of 
the  bay-trees  (n.  4.  8).  But  the  Bishop  of 
Carlisle's  committal  to  the  charge  of  the  Abbot  of  Westminster 
(iv.  1  152-3)  and  Bolingbroke's  denunciation  of  his  son's 
libertinism  (v.  3.  1-1 2)  are  not  in  Holinshed.  The  play  opens 
in  1398  and  closes  in  1400.  There  are  several  historical 
inaccuracies: — (1)  Richard's  queen  (his  second)  was  twelve 
when  sent  back  to  France  ;  whereas  Shakespeare  represents  her 
as  a  mature  woman  ;  (2)  Aumerle's  mother  died  in  1394,  so 
that  her  intercession  (v.  3  87  136)  is  fictitious  ;  (3)  the  Duchess 
of  Gloucester  died  at  Barking  Abbey,  not  Plashy. 

The  chief  interest  centres  in  Shakespeare's  characterisation 
of  the  two  protagonists.  On  the  one  side  we 
have  the  self-indulgent,  sentimental,  imagina- 
tive Richard,  who  makes  a  luxury  even  of  his  misfortunes,  and 
alternates  between  hysterical  rage  and  childish  despair;  and  on 
the  other  the  silent,  self-contained  Bolingbroke,  who  makes 
straight  for  his  aim,  submits  to  inevitable  drawbacks,  and  suc- 
ceeds bv  resolute  will.  He  commands  respect  and  fear,  but 
wins  no  love;  he  lives  in  the  world  of  mere  external  facts  : 
whereas  Richard  wins  our  sympathy  ;  he  is  a  'lovely'  though  a 
'cankered'  rose.  Gaunt  is  the  embodiment  of  indignant  patriot- 
ism ;  York,  a  faithful  subordinate,  without  energy  or  initiative. 
The  women  are  but  secondary  personages  :  the  Queen's  affec 
tion  is  strong  enough  to  serve  as  a  foil  to  Richard's  weakness ; 
in  the  same  way  the  Duchess  of  York's  motherly  passion  sets 
off  her  husband's  conscientious,  non-natural  loyalty. 

The  only  approach  to  any  use  of  the   supernatural    element 

Supernatural  m  tnis  PlaV  lS  tne  mentlon  °f  tne  withered  bay- 

element,  trees,  meteors,  and  a  lunar  eclipse  (11.  4.  8-io,) 

supposed  to  foretell  public  calamities  (cf.  Julius  Ccesar,  I.  3  ; 
11.  2).  The  unobtrusive  moral  of  the  whole  drama  is  the  same 
as  that  of  Love's  Labour's  Lost  (see  115),  the  central  idea  of 
Shakespeare's  whole  life.  Richard  II  lived  in  a  fool's  paradise 
of  a,;  imaginary  'divine  right  of  kings'  :  the  drama  points  out 
its  inevitable  end. 
10 


146  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

KING  JOHN. 

This  play  (1595)  is  mentioned  in  Meres's  Palladis  Tamia 
(1598),  and  is  clearly  an  improved  form  of 
The  Troublesome  Raigne  of  King  John,  which 
was  printed  in  1591,  and  probably  written  in  1588  by  some 
imitator  of  Marlowe.  Its  date  is  further  fixed  by  the  phrase 
•Basilisco-like'  (1.  1.  244),  an  undoubted  quotation  from 
Soliman  and  Perseida  (1592).  Its  regularity  of  metre,  its  fre- 
quent rhymes,  verbal  conceits,  and  classical  allusions,  and  its 
character  as  an  evident  adaptation,  mark  it  as  belonging  to 
Shakespeare's  earlier  plays  ;  but  in  subtlety  and  vividness  of 
characterisation  it  is  as  much  superior  to  Richard  III  a.s  it  is 
inferior  to  Henry  IV.  It  therefore  belongs  to  the  Middle 
Period  of  the  historical  plays. 

King  John,  encouraged  by  his  mother  Elinor,  defies  Philip, 
King  of  France,  who  claims  the  crown  for  the 
rightful  heir,  Arthur.  John  knights  Philip 
Faulconbridge  an  illegitimate  son  of  Richard  I,  and  takes  him 
to  the  ensuing  war.  Before  Angiers  they  meet  the  French 
King,  Lymoges,  Duke  of  Austria,  the  Dauphin,  Lewis,  Arthur, 
and  his  mother  Constance.  The  citizens  suggest  a  compro- 
mise :  accordingly  regardless  of  Arthur's  claims,  Lewis  is 
betrothed  to  John's  niece,  Blanch.  But  the  Pope's  legate 
Pandulph  excommunicates  John,  and  the  war  is  renewed. 
Faulconbridge  kills  the  Duke  of  Austria  ;  John  takes  Arthur 
prisoner,  and  craftily  suggests  his  murder  to  Hubert.  Hubert, 
about  to  blind  Arthur  with  hot  irons,  is  dissuaded  by  his 
piteous  entreaties  ;  and  Arthur  is  killed  accidentally  in  an  at- 
tempt to  escape.  His  supposed  murder  so  incenses  the  people 
that  the  nobles  side  with  the  Dauphin.  John  is  driven  to  do 
homage  to  Pandulph  for  his  crown,  but  is  poisoned  by  a  monk, 
and  dies  on  hearing  of  a  military  reverse  which  Faulconbridge 
has  sustained  at  the  Wash.  The  young  Prince  Henry,  now 
King,  hears  that  Pandulph  has  arranged  for  an  honourable 
peace  ;  and  the  play  concludes  with  an  outburst  of  triumphant 
patriotism. 


SPECIAL  PLAYS.  147 

The    plot   is  taken   from    the    old    play    The    Troublesome 
Raigne,    which    Shakespeare    simply   rewrote. 

Source.  _  r  r  J 

But  he  has  practically  made  it  a  new  play  ;  its 
eloquence,  poetry,  and  dramatic  insight  are  all  Shakespeare's. 
The  changes  from  the  old  play  are  introduced  for  dramatic 
effect.  Thus  Arthur  is  an  innocent  boy  instead  of  a  young 
man — which  is  unhistorical,  since  he  was  17  years  old,  and  had 
served  in  a  campaign.  The  bigoted  Protestant  prejudices 
of  the  original  are  replaced  by  lofty  patriotism ;  while  the 
craft,  treachery,  and  cowardly  weakness  of  John  are  vividly 
delineated.  Constance  is  a  deeply-wronged,  suffering  mother 
rather  than  an  intriguing,  ambitious  princess.  Both  plays  alike 
blunder  in  confusing  Leopold  of  Austria  with  the  Count  of 
Limoges ;  for  Leopold  had  died  five  years  before  this  play 
begins.  Hubert  de  Burgh  was  not  a  servant,  but  a  high 
state  official.  Pandulph  was  not  a  cardinal,  nor  did  he 
arrange  the  settlement  between  John  and  the  French  invaders. 
Nor,  again,  were  cannon  used  at  that  date.  Historical  events 
are  selected  not  for  their  importance  (the  epoch-making  Magna 
Charta  is  not  noticed),  but  solely  for  their  dramatic  suitability; 
and  the  sequence  of  time  is  shortened  from  some  sixteen  years 
to  a  few  months. 

John's   mother,    Elinor,    is    strong,  ambitious,  and  unscru- 
Ch  r  pulous  ;  he  depends  upon  her  for    statesman- 

ship as  he  does  upon  the  Bastard  for  active 
service  in  war  or  government.  The  latter  is  the  real  hero 
of  the  play  ;  his  character  develops  from  a  rough  boyish 
humour  to  a  shrewd  far-sighted  statesmanship  and  soldier-craft. 
He  is  the  incarnation  of  unselfish  patriotism.  All  the  characters 
except  Constance,  Arthur,  and  the  Bastard  are  more  or  less 
time-serving  hypocrites  ;  and  the  inevitable  course  of  events 
shows  that  chaos  alone  can  ensue  from  such  moral  rottenness. 

The    supernatural    element    finds   little    scope  in  this  play. 
Supernatural        Peter  of  Pomfret,  a  popular  prophet,    inflames 

element.  tne  p0pUiar  discontent  by  predicting   that   the 

King  will  deliver  up  his  crown  before  the  next  Ascension   Day. 
This  prophecy  is  fulfilled  by  John's  resigning  his  crown  to  the 


148  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Pope's  legate.  A  portent  of  five  moons  is  seen  in  the  sky 
(iv.  2.  182-4).  But  neither  prophecy  nor  portent  has  anything 
of  the  dramatic  seriousness  which  their  parallels  have  in  Julius 
Ccesar.  They  might  be  omitted  without  loss;  Shakespeare 
simply  retained  them  from  the  original  play. 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

This  play  (1596)  must  have  been  written  before  1598, 
because  it  is  mentioned  by  Meres  (1598),  and 
was  entered  in  that  year  in  the  Stationers' 
Company's  books.  An  imitation  of  the  moonlight  scene  (v.  1.) 
occurs  in  Wily  Beguiled  (1596-7);  and  the  incident  of  the 
knife-whetting  (iv.  1.  121)  in  a  Latin  play,  Machiavellus  (1597). 
A  'Venetian  Comedy'  is  mentioned  as  a  new  play,  August 
25th,  1594,  by  the  manager  of  the  Rose  Theatre.  This  was 
probably  Shakespeare's  first  rough  draft,  written  hastily  to  meet 
the  popular  demand  for  an  anti-Jewish  play,  occasioned  by 
the  execution  of  the  Jew  Lopez  for  an  attempt  to  poison  the 
Queen.  Shylock's  argument  (iv.  1.  90-100)  is  taken  from 
Silvayn's  Orator,  which  was  not  translated  till  1596.  But  these 
lines  may  have  been  added  later,  or  Shakespeare  may  very 
well  have  read  this  book  in  French. 

In  general  character  this  play  is  intermediate  between  the 
Early  Group  and  the  Later  Comedy.  With 
the  former  it  is  associated  in  its  tendency  to 
rhyme  and  occasionally  to  doggerel,  and  in  its  frequent 
classicalisms.  The  relations  between  mistress  and  maid, 
though  inverted,  recall  those  of  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  ;  as 
Launcelot  reminds  us  of  Launce.  But  in  depth  and  subtlety 
of  characterisation  it  closely  approaches  the  Later  Group ; 
while,  as  we  have  seen  (125),  Portia  stands  midway  between 
the  earlier  heroines,  and  those  of  the  Tragical  Comedies.  And 
the  love-poetry  of  Act  V,  so  gracefully    interwoven  with    tender 


SPECIAL  PLAYS.  149 

fancy  and  mirthful  badinage  almost  ranks  with  Orlando's 
courtship  of  the  disguised  Rosalind,  or  the  brilliant  and  yet 
impassioned  tongue-fence  between  Beatrice  and  Benedick. 

Antonio,  a  rich  merchant  of  Venice,  lends  money  to  his 
friend  Bassanio  to  enable  him  to  appear  in 
due  style  as  suitor  of  Portia  at  Belmont. 
Antonio  has  to  borrow  the  money  from  Shylock  the  Jew ;  and 
incautiously  signs  a  bond  under  which,  if  he  fails  to  repay  the 
debt,  the  Jew  may  cut  off  a  pound  of  his  flesh.  Bassanio 
passes  the  ordeal  of  choice  among  three  caskets,  golden,  silver, 
and  leaden,  and  so  wins  Portia's  hand  ;  but  immediately  after- 
wards hears  that  Antonio's  bond  is  forfeited.  He  and  his 
friend  Gratiano  leave  their  newly-wedded  brides,  Portia  and 
her  maid  Nerissa,  and  hasten  to  Venice.  The  two  latter, 
disguised  as  lawyer  and  clerk,  follow  them,  appear  in  Court, 
and  catch  the  Jew  in  his  own  legal  trap.  They  refuse  any  fee, 
but  obtain  the  rings  which  their  respective  husbands  had  vowed 
never  to  part  with.  The  clown  Launcelot  had  been  transferr- 
ed by  Shylock  from  his  own  service  to  that  of  Bassanio,  and 
had  thus  helped  Lorenzo  to  elope  with  the  Jew's  daughter 
Jessica.  These  two  await  at  Belmont  the  return  of  the  brides 
and  their  husbands ;  the  comic  tangle  of  the  rings  is  happily 
cleared  up,  and  Antonio  recovers  his  lost  wealth. 

The  story  of  the  bond,  of  Antonio's  deliverance  by  Portia's 
pleading,  and  of  the  rings  comes  from  the  old 
Italian  tales,  //  Pecorone,  by  Ser  Giovanni  of 
Florence  (published  1558).  The  outline  of  this  'bond'  story 
is  found  in  the  mediaeval  Gesia  Romanorum,  in  The  Three 
Ladies  of  London  (1584),  and  in  a  thirteenth  century  North- 
umbrian poem,  Cursor  Mundi.  The  'casket'  story  may  be 
traced  to  the  Greek  romance,  Barlaam  and  Josaphat  (about 
800) ;  it  occurs  in  two  forms  in  the  Gesta  Romanorum  ;  and 
is  found  in  the  English  poet  Gower,  and  the  Italian  novelist 
Boccaccio.  The  central  character  of  Shylock  was  partly 
founded  upon  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta ;  but  still  more  upon 
Queen  Elizabeth's  Jewish  physician  Lopez,  who  had  been  in 
the  Earl  of  Leicester's  household  before  1586  ;  and  while  there 


150  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

the  Burbages  had  probably  often  come  into  personal  contact 
with  him.  Shylock  we  know  was  one  of  Richard  Burbage's 
greatest  impersonations.  Lopez  had  acted  as  interpreter  to 
Don  Antonio,  a  religious  refugee  from  Spain ;  and  Spanish 
agents  in  England  bribed  him  to  murder  both  Antonio  and  the 
Queen.  Stephen  Gosson  (1579),  in  a  criticism  of  the  stage, 
mentions  one  play  The  Jew,  acted  at  the  Bull  Theatre,  as 
'showing  the  greediness  of  worldly  choosers  and  the  bloody 
minds  of  usurers,'  i.e.,  combining  the  'casket'  and  'bond' 
stories.  This  play  was  probably  the  rough  ore  which  Shake- 
speare refined  into  pure  gold. 

Shylock  is  the   real    hero,    and    Shakespeare    accomplished 
what  in  his  surroundings  was  almost  a  miracle  : 

Chcircictcrs. 

he  created  a  Jew  who  successfully  appeals  to 
our  common  humanity,  in  spite  of  the  hard  crust  of  revengeful 
avarice  which  hides  his  better  nature.  Heine's  criticism  is 
perfect :  lAt  Drury  Lane  (theatre)  a  pale  fair  Briton,  at  the  end 
of  the  Fourth  Act,  fell  a-weeping  passionately,  exclaiming  "The 
poor  man  is  wronged."  At  Venice,  wandering  dream-hunter 
that  I  am,  I  found  Shylock  nowhere  on  the  Rialto,  but  towards 
evening  I  heard  a  sob  that  could  come  only  from  a  breast  that 
held  in  it  all  the  martyrdom  that  for  eighteen  centuries  had 
been  borne  by  a  whole  tortured  people.  I  seemed  to  know 
the  voice,  and  felt  I  had  heard  it  long  ago,  when  in  utter 
despair  it  moaned  out  "Jessica,  my  child  !"  '  Those  who 
condemn  Jessica  for  her  want  of  natural  affection  should  study 
George  Eliot's  Daniel  Deronda,  where  the  ethical  problem  of 
an  artist-souled  daughter  and  a  stern  Jewish  father  is  fully 
discussed.  To  such  a  girl  her  home  'is  hell'  (11.  3.  2-3).  In 
this  Shakespeare  was  never  truer  to  nature  and  to  life.  But 
Portia  is  the  heroine,  and  in  the  fifth  Act  she  rounds  off  the 
perfect  humanity  of  the  whole  dramatic  poem.  She  is  life 
complete  ;  whereas  Shylock  is  a  life  wrenched  and  distorted 
by  racial  and  religious  bigotry.  The  other  characters  are 
necessary  artistic  accessories,  but  no  more.  Gratiano  is  a 
useful  rattle,  who  serves  to  accentuate  the  justice  and  relieve 
the  tension  of  the  trial-scene. 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  151 

1  &  2  HENRY  IV. 

These  two  plays  (1596-8)  were  first  published  in  quarto 
Date  ^e^-    25t^'     x 59S,     under   the   title   of   'The 

History  of  Henry  IV.  with  the  Battle  of 
Shrewsbury,  between  the  King  and  Lord  Henry  Percy, 
surnamed  Henry  Hotspur  of  the  North,  with  the  Humorous 
Conceits  of  Sir  John  Falstaffe.'  As  first  written,  the  '  fat 
knight '  was  throughout  called  Oldcastle.  A  pun  on  that 
name1  and  a  historical  reference2  to  the  real  Oldcastle,  were 
overlooked  by  Shakespeare  when  he  changed  the  name  out 
of  deference  to  Protestant  versus  Catholic  prejudices  (see 
Epilogue).  Meres  mentions  this  play  (1598) ;  and  Ben  Jonson 
alludes  to  'Justice  Silence'  and  to  Falstaff' s  fatness  in  Every 
man  out  of  his  Humour  (1599).  The  'rise  in  the  price  of 
oats'3  refers  to  the  year  1596. 

Shakespeare  had  passed  the  rudimental  stage  of  his  earlier 
histories.     With    perfect  ease  and  full  creative 

Period.  r 

power  he  commingles  the  most  serious  his- 
torical situations  with  the  broadest  fun.  Except  perhaps  the 
fool  in  Lear,  Falstaff  is  Shakespeare's  one  unapproachable 
comic  creation.  The  great  proportion  of  prose  lines  to  verse, 
and  the  avoidance  of  rhyme,  all  add  to  the  internal  proof  that 
it  belongs  to  the  Middle  period. 

Mortimer,  a  distant  cousin  of  King  Henry  IV,  has  been 
taken  prisoner  by  the  rebellious  Welsh,  and 
being  abandoned  by  the  king,  he  marries 
Glendower's  daughter,  and  joins  the  rebels,  as  also  does  Harry 
Hotspur,  son  of  Northumberland,  encouraged  by  his  uncle 
Worcester.  Harry,  Prince  of  Wales,  is  studying  human 
nature,  with  Sir  John  Falstaff  as  tutor,  Poins  as  companion, 
Gadshill,  Peto  and  Bardolph  as  subordinates,  and  the 
Boar's  Head  Tavern  as  his  academy.  The  rich  humours  of 
this  life  are  curiously  interwoven  with  the  progress  of  the 
civil    war,    till    the    rebels    are   defeated  at  Shrewsbury ;  where 

1  I.  2.  47,  (Pfc.il)  ;         a  III.  2.  28-9 (Pt.  2)  ;        »  II.  1.13-14  (Pt.  1). 


152  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

'Prince  Hal'  saves  his  father's  life  and  kills  Harry  Hotspur. 
Thenceforward  he  keeps  aloof  from  Falstaff,  who  vents  his 
humours  upon  the  Chief  Justice,  Pistol,  Dame  Quickly, 
Doll  Tearsheet,  Justice  Shallow,  Silence,  and  the  recruits 
he  picks  up  on  his  way  to  the  wars.  The  rebellion  is  finally 
crushed  in  Yorkshire  through  Prince  John's  treacherous  strata- 
gems. The  king  on  his  death-bed  is  finally  convinced  of 
Harry's  love  and  of  the  reality  of  his  reformation.  On  receiving 
news  of  the  king's  death,  Falstaff  posts  to»  London  with  his 
dupe  Shallow,  but  is  publicly  disgraced,  while  his  enemy  the 
Chief  Justice  is  promoted  •,  and  the  play  ends  with  this  happy 
augury  for  the  new  king's  honourable  reign. 

Shakespeare's  two  sources   were  Holinshed's    (and    Hall's) 
Chronicles    and    the    old    play,     The    Fa?nous 

Source.  r      J 

Victories  of  Henry  V.  In  some  cases  he  has 
been  misled  by  errors  in  the  Chronicles;  e.g.  (i J  he  calls 
the  Earl  of  Fife  the  son  of  Douglas  {PL  i.  i.  71-2);  (2)  he 
confuses  Edmund  Mortimer,  the  Welsh  prisoner  and  rebel, 
with  his  nephew,  Edmund  Mortimer,  the  true  heir  to  the 
throne.  For  dramatic  reasons  Shakespeare  has  wrongly  made 
Hotspur  (who  was  more  than  twenty  years  the  older)  and  the 
Prince  of  Wales  of  the  same  age :  he  has  similarly  made 
Hotspur  fall  at  Shrewsbury  in  single  combat  with  the  Prince 
of  Wales.  But  with  a  happy  insight  he  has  given  us  a  far 
truer  version  of  the  Prince's  character  than  either  the  old 
play  or  the  historic  Chronicles  furnished.  Instead  of  an  un- 
principled debauchee,  we  see  the  gradually  developed  humanity 
of  one  who  has  studied  life  sympathetically  in  all  its  aspects — a 
genuinely  English  hero ;  as  contrasted  with  the  cold,  deliberate 
proprieties  of  Henry  IV's  pattern  son,  John  of  Lancaster. 
The  name  .Oldcastle  (p.  15  ij  for  the  Prince's  chief  companion 
and  a  few  details  connected  with  him  are  taken  from  the  old 
play  ;  but  the  character  of  Falstaff  is  an  entirely  new  creation. 
Henry  IV  represents  the  calculating,  unsympathetic  poli- 
Characters  tician,  who  lives  in  an  atmosphere  of  suspicion 

and  unrest.     He  cannot  understand  his  eldest 
son,  and  learns  to  appreciate  him  only  at  the  very  last.     Owen 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  153 

Glendower  is  a  brave  hot-tempered  Welsh  warrior,  full  of 
poetic  superstition  :  Harry  Percy  (Hotspur)  is  practical,  but 
impatient ;  his  one  idea  is  righting.  The  other  characters 
describe  themselves  in  the  plot.  The  female  characters,  the 
wives  of  Hotspur  and  Mortimer  and  Hotspur's  mother,  are 
unimportant.     Mrs.  Quickly  is  a  richly  humorous  type. 


HENRY  v. 

The  date  of    Henry    V  is   fixed — ([)    externally,   as   after 
Date  1598,  because  it  is  not  in  Meres's   list  of    that 

year,  and  it  followed  2  Henry  IV  (1 597-8) ; 
and  as  before  1600,  when  the  quarto  edition  was  published: 
(2)  internally,  as  April  to  June  1599,  because  the  references 
to  Essex's  hoped-for  victorious  return  from  Ireland  settles 
the  time  so  far.  For  Essex  left  England  March  27th  1599  ; 
by  the  end  of  June  he  was  known  to  have  failed,  and  he 
returned  in  disgrace  Sept.  28th  1599.  And  the  reference  (Prol. 
to  Act  1,  13)  to  the  'wooden  O'  (if  the  octagonal  Globe 
Theatre  is  meant)  also  necessitates  1599,  when  that  theatre  was 
first  built  and  opened.  The  first  quarto  was  a  pirated  and 
imperfect  edition  of  an  acting  abridgement ;  it  omits  the 
Choruses  and  cuts  down  the  number  of  dramatis  persojiae. 

The  style  and  diction  show  it    to    belong   to    Shakespeare's 
„    .  Middle    period.     There    is    still    some  use  of 

Period.  r 

rhymed  couplets  •,  but  there  are  plenty  of 
prose  passages,  as  in  Much  Ado  (1598-9),  and  As  You  Like  It 
(1599-16001;  and  the  blank  verse  runs  more  freely  than  in 
Richard  II,  less  so  than  in  Macbeth  or  King  Lear.  Thought 
and  form  are  perfectly  balanced,  whereas  in  the  earlier  plays 
^he  form  predominates ;  in  the  later,  the  thought. 

This  play  is  more  a  warlike  epic  than  a  drama.  The  story 
is  therefore  chiefly  told  by  a  'Chorus',  a 
speaker    who    utters   a   descriptive    prologue 


154  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

before  each  act,  and  an  epilogue  to  the  whole.  The  Archbi- 
shop of  Canterbury  persuades  Henry  V  to  claim  the  French 
Crown,  while  the  Dauphin  sends  a  mocking  challenge  of  a 
'tun  of  tennis  balls'.  War  is  declared.  Nym  and  Pistol 
make  up  their  quarrel  over  Mrs.  Quickly,  and  with  Bardolph 
go  to  make  profit  out  of  the  campaign.  Meanwhile  we  hear 
of  Falstaff's  death.  Before  embarking,  the  king  confronts  and 
condemns  the  conspirators,  Scroop,  Cambridge,  and  Grey. 
Harfieur  is  taken,  where  we  are  introduced  to  the  Welsh 
Captain  Fluellen.  the  English  Gower,  the  Scotch  Jamy  and 
the  Irish  MacMorris,  each  a  characteristic  natural  type. 
After  a  skirmish  in  which  Exeter  takes  and  holds  an  important 
bridge,  and  where  Pistol  is  so  tongue-valiant  as  to  impose  on 
Fluellen,  we  have  the  glorious  victory  of  Agincourt,  and  a  comic 
episode  with  a  bluff  soldier  who  had  challenged  his  unrecog- 
nised king  on  the  preceding  night.  The  king  goes  home 
in  triumph,  and  returns  to  win  his  bride,  the  French  Princess 
Katharine.  Fluellen  exposes  the  cowardice  of  Pistol  The 
king's  rough  soldierly  courtship  and  general  congratulations 
on  the  peace  concluded  by  this  marriage  form  a  happy  ending 
to  the  play. 

The   story    is    taken  from    Holinshed's    Chronicles.     Some 
details — the  tun  of  tennis  balls.  Pistol's  capture 

Source.  .  •  r 

of  the  Frenchman,  and  Henry's  wooing— are 
from  an  old  play,  The  Famous  Victories  of  Henry  V.  The 
story  is  occasionally  inaccurate.  Thus  the  conspiracy  was 
detected  before  the  negotiations  with  France  ;  the  French 
king's  offer  of  his  daughter's  hand  and  'certain  dukedoms' 
was  made  by  a  special  embassage  before  the  king  left  England, 
instead  of  after  the  king's  landing  in  France  ;  the  Dauphin  was 
not  present  at  Agincourt,  nor  were  Salisbury,  Warwick,  or 
Talbot  ;  and  Westmoreland  and  Bedford  were  at  home.  The 
union  of  the  four  nationalities  under  Henry  is  a  dramatic 
invention  ;  indeed  Act  ill.  2.  80  to  end  appears  to  have  been 
added  to  the  play  in  1605  to  propitiate  King  James,  who  had 
been  annoyed  by  stage  caricatures  of  Scotsmen.  In  Macbeth 
(1605)  Shakespeare  shows  the  same  tendency. 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  155 

The  central  all-important  character  is  the  King's.  We  can 
see  how  this  splendid  national  hero  has  been 
gradually  evolved  from  the  earlier  'Prince 
Hal.'  His  reserve  and  self-control  in  answering  the  Dauphin's 
rash  challenge,  are  a  repetition  on  a  loftier  scale  of  his  victory 
over  Hotspur.  He  is  throughout  severely  conscientious  and 
God-fearing  ;  sternly  checks  all  license  in  his  own  soldiery  : 
has  all  the  kingly  attributes  in  perfection  ;  and  commands  the 
heartfelt  loyalty  of  all  classes,  from  the  noble  Erpingham  down 
to  Nym  and  Pistol.  His  disguised  conversation  with  the 
soldiers  before  Agincourt  shows  us  how  much  practical  com- 
monsense  he  had  learned  in  his  Boar's  Head  experience  ; 
still  more  how  supreme  over  every  other  feeling  is  that  sense 
of  kingly  responsibility  which  banished  the  impossible  Falstaff, 
and  brought  about  the  apparent  miracle  of  his  coronation 
reformation.  From  the  dramatic  point  of  view  there  is  a  loss  t 
the  humorous  relief  is  slender  ;  though  Falstaff's  reported 
death-bed  scene  is  the  most  perfect  comedy  that  Shakespeare 
ever  wrote.  Fluellen  has  a  shrewd  mother-wit  :  he  is  as  enter- 
taining as  he  is  estimable  ;  but  he  is  too  serious  for  comedy. 
As  a  drama,  Henry  V  is  inferior  to  Henry  IV,  though  it  is 
superior  as  a  quasi-epic  poem. 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 

This    play    (1598-9)    is   not    mentioned    by    Meres,  and  so 
cannot  have  been  written  before  1598.     It  was 

Date  and  period.  ,  ,  , 

entered  on  the  Stationer  s  Register  and  pub- 
lished in  quarto  in  1600.  There  is  no  clear  internal  evidence 
of  the  date.  Don  Pedro's  success  in  the  wars  (1.  1.  1-11)  may 
refer  to  Essex's  campaign  in  Ireland  ;  if  so,  the  play  must  have 
been  written  before  the  end  of  June  1599  (153).  The  wide 
range  and  felicity  of  characterisation,  the  harmonious  blending 
of  grave  and    gay,  of   tragic    intensity    with  grotesque  humour, 


156  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

all  mark    it  as   belonging   to  the    Later    Comedy.     Verse  tests 
and  the  liberal  use  of  prose  confirm  this  conclusion. 

Don  Pedro,  Prince  of  Arragon,  with  Claudio  and  Bene- 
dick, pay  a  visit  to  Leonato,  Governor  of 
Messina,  and  there  meet  Hero  his  daughter 
and  Beatrice  his  niece.  Claudio  becomes  engaged  to  marry 
Hero  ;  while  Benedick  and  Beatrice,  both  professed  misoga- 
mists,  carry  on  their  customary  duel  of  wit.  Don  John, 
Pedro's  bastard  brother,  with  his  attendant  Borachio,  suborn 
Hero's  maid  Margaret  to  personate  her  mistress  and  thus 
lead  Claudio  to  disbelieve  in  her  loyalty  and  openly  to  repudi- 
ate her  at  the  wedding  ceremony.  Meantime  the  others  had 
laid  a  cunning  trap  by  which  Benedick  and  Beatrice  are  made 
to  believe  that  each  is  in  love  with  the  other.  The  wronged 
Hero  swoons  in  church,  is  hid  away,  and  reported  dead. 
Dogberry's  watchmen  accidentally  disclose  Don  John's 
villainy  ;  Claudio  in  atonement  for  his  rash  judgment  marries  a 
veiled  bride,  Leonato's  supposed  niece,  who  turns  out  to  be  Hero; 
Benedick  marries  Beatrice,  and  all  ends  with  a  merry  dance. 
The  'Hero  and  Claudio'  story  is  first  found  in  Bandello's 
Novelle  (No.  22),  which  was  translated  by 
Belleforest  in  his  Histories  Tragiques.  The 
same  story  is  iound  in  Ariosto's  Orlando  Furioso,  translated 
by  Harrington  (1591);  it  had  been  dramatised  and  acted 
before  the  Queen  in  1583.  Jacob  Ayrer  had  independently 
written  a  very  similar  play ;  and  what  is  said  later  about 
The  Tempest  (p.  181)  applies  here.  Shakespeare  has 
changed  all  Bandello's  names  except  Don  Pedro  and  Leonato  •, 
while  Ayrer  has  kept  them  all  But  the  real  soul  of  the  play, 
Benedick,  Beatrice,  and  the  immortal  Dogberry,  are  Shakes- 
peare's own,  and  are  so  cunningly  interwoven  with  the  other 
story  as  to  make  one  perfect  whole.  It  is  Dogberry's  thick- 
headed officialism  that  stumbles  on  the  clue  to  Don  John's 
villainy,  and  brings  about  the  happy  ending. 

Claudio  is  a  half-hearted  lover,  with    no    depth    of    feeling. 
His  ready  belief  in  Hero's  disloyalty,  and    his 

Characters.  .,      /     .,  .  .  .  c 

equally  facile  acquiescence  in   a   marriage    or 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  15T 

atonement  are  a  necessary  imperfection  in  the  plot.  With  a 
Romeo  or  any  really  high-souled  lover  in  his  place,  the  drama 
would  have  been  impossible.  Beatrice  and  the  priest  alone 
see  the  situation  in  its  true  light,  and  Benedick  rather  tardily 
follows  Beatrice's  lead.  She  is  the  real  heroine,  healthy  and 
hearty,  her  sarcastic  misogamy  coming  from  a  true  insight 
into  the  self-centred  shallowness  of  almost  all  men  (abundantly 
justified  in  the  play  itself),  not  from  any  selfish  egoism  of  her 
own  (as  is  largely  the  case  with  Benedick).  This  is  seen  in 
her  ready  sympathy  with  her  cousin's  love-affairs,  and  in  the 
passionate  self-abandonment  with  which  she  falls  into  the  trap 
so  artfully  set  for  her.  Don  Pedro,  Leonato,  and  his  brother 
fill  their  places  with  dignity.  The  lines  in  which  the  friar 
foretells  how  Hero's  memory  will  haunt  Claudio  are  perhaps 
the  finest  in  English  literature  (iv.  i.  225-32).  Dogberry  is 
the  '  Bottom  '  of  Bumbledom  ;  he  alone  would  make  the  play 
a  success.     He  is  one  of  Shakespeare's  immortals. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 

This  play  (1599-1600)  is  entered  on  the  Stationers'  Regis- 
Date  and  period.  ter  in  l6co  't0  be  sta}'ed''  apparently  not  being 
then  completed  for  publication  ;  and  it  did 
not  appear  till  the  first  folio  (1623).  Several  inaccuracies  in 
the  text  indicate  that  it  was  written  hastily.  The  part  of  Hymen 
in  the  last  scene  is  scarcely  worthy  of  Shakespeare,  and  possi- 
bly was  filled  in  by  some  one  else.  The  date  must  be  later 
than  1598,  because  the  play  is  not  in  Meres's  list  •,  and  it  con- 
tains (m.  5.  82-3)  a  quotation  from  Marlowe's  Hero  and  Lean- 
der,  first  printed  in  1598.  The  Globe  Theatre  (opened  in  1599) 
bore  over  its  entrance  the  inscription  Tolus  mundus  agit  histrio- 
nem  ('All  the  word's  a  stage'),  so  that  this  play  may  have  been 
first  performed  at  the  opening.  The  style  of  the  whole  play 
both  in  blank  verse  and  prose,  the  exquisite   perfection    in    the 


158  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

delineation  of  Rosalind's  character,  and  the  shrewd  wit  of 
Touchstone,  so  artfully  set  off  by  the  sentimental  cynicism  of 
Jaques — all  mark  it  as  belonging  to  the  Later  Comedy. 

Orlando,  youngest  son  of  Sir  Rowland  de  Boys,  deprived 
of  his  inheritance  by  his  eldest  brother  Oliver, 
overcomes  the  usurping  Duke  Frederick's 
athlete  Charles  in  a  public  wrestling-match.  He  thus  wins 
the  love  of  Rosalind,  daughter  of  the  Banished  Duke,  who  is 
living  in  the  Forest  of  Arden  ;  he  too  is  banished,  and  with  his 
faithful  servant  Adam  escapes  to  the  forest.  Rosalind  is. also 
banished,  and  goes  there  with  her  bosom  friend  Celia,  Duke 
Frederick's  daughter,  and  with  the  Court  fool,  Touchstone. 
They  disguise  themselves  as  brother  and  sister,  and  are  cour- 
teously entertained  by  two  shepherds  Corin  and  Silvius.  The 
latter  is  scorned  by  Phebe,  a  shepherdess,  who  falls  in  love 
with  the  disguised  Rosalind.  Orlando,  to  cure  his  love  sickness, 
makes  believe  to  woo  the  supposed  Ganymede  as  Rosalind. 
Touchstone  falls  in  love  with  a  country  wench  Audrey,  and 
has  many  verbal  encounters  with  Jaques,  the  cynical  wit  among 
the  banished  Duke's  followers.  Oliver,  banished  by  Duke 
Frederick,  is  saved  by  Orlan  lo  from  a  lioness.  He  falls  in 
love  with  Celia.  Tn  the  end  Rosalind  makes  herself  known, 
and  all  the  lovers  are  happily  married.  Duke  Frederick  be- 
comes a  'convertite'  and  reinstates  the  banished  Duke  and  his 
followers. 

The    whole    story    is  taken    from    a    romance    by  Thomas 
Lo.lge,  Rosalynde,  or    Euphues     Golden    Legacy 

Source.  ,  ,  ,. 

(1590).  Some  details  in  the  wrestling  scene 
and  in  Touchstone's  humorous  distinctions  between  differing 
types  of  the  'lie',  were  probably  suggested  by  Saviolo's  Practice, 
a  manual  of  self-defence  by  an  Italian  fencing-master  in  the 
service  of  the  Earl  of  Essex.  But  the  two  chief  characters, 
Jaques  and  Touchstone,  are  original,  as  is  also  the  wench 
Audrey,  who  serves  to  draw  out  Touchstone's  humour  at  its 
best.  All  the  names  in  the  novel  are  changed,  except 
Adam's  ;  and  the  forest  of  Ardennes,  becomes  Shakespeare's 
own    Forest   of    Arden,  which  is  accurately  described  in  detail, 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  159 

but  dowered  by  the  novelist  with  olive  trees  (hi.  5.  74;  iv.  3. 
78,)  and  by  Shakespeare  (in.  2.186)  with  palm-trees  (unless 
indeed  he  means  the  goat-willow,  commonly  called  a  palm,  and 
used  in  churches  on  Palm  Sunday)  ;  with  poisonous  green 
snakes  (the  only  poisonous  snake  in  England  being  the  viper 
which  is  brown  or  slate-coloured  and  too  small  to  twist  round 
a  man's  neck)  ;  and  with  a  lioness  (iv.  3.  106-9  &  1I5"1,7)- 
Shakespeare  has  made  the  two  Dukes  brothers  as  in  The 
Tempest. 

For  Rosalind  see  117,  149.  Taine  contends  that  Jaques 
represents  Shakespeare's  own  personality.  This 
is  true  in  so  far  as  he  stands  for  a  detached 
and  critical  spirit,  who  knows  the  whole  range  of  life  and  the 
vanity  of  it ;  but  wholly  untrue  as  regards  his  sentimental 
cynicism.  There  is  no  trace  of  genuine  feeling  in  Jaques ; 
he  simply  amuses  himself  with  his  own  emotional  experiences. 
The  Duke  charges  him  with  having  been  a  sensual  libertine 
(n.  7.  65-6),  perhaps  one  instance  among  many  of  the  inaccu- 
rate haste  with  which  Shakespeare  wrote  this  play  ;  for  the 
suggestion  is  out  of  keeping  with  Jaques's  whole  character,  and 
inconsistent  with  the  Duke's  own  delight  in  his  society.  It 
is  significant  that  Taine  has  no  wor  i  to  say  about  Touchstone, 
who  is  of  vital  importance  to  the  play.  Steadfast  loyalty  is  the 
backbone  of  his  character  (1.  3.  134),  shrewd  common- 
sense  gained  by  long  experience  is  the  foundation  of  his  wit. 
No  one  ever  gets  the  better  of  him  in  a  word-duel ;  Jaques 
serves  as  a  mere  foil  in  their  encounters  ;  and  with  character- 
istic want  of  insight  attributes  his  own  shallowness  of  nature 
to  Touchstone  in  his  farewell  gibe,  'for  thy  loving  voyage  Is  but 
for  two  months  victualled'  (v.  4.  197-8). 


TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

The    date    of    this    play    (1601)  is  very  nearly  fixed  by  the 
Diary  of   Manningham,  who  saw  it  performed 

Date  and  period.  *  °  r 

at  the  Middle  Temple,  Feb.  2nd,   1602.     It  is 


160  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

not  found  in  Meres's  list,  and  so  was  written  after  1598  ;  and 
the  song  (11.  3.  99),  which  is  not  Shakespeare's,  was  published 
in  1601.  Thus  the  latter  part  of  1601  must  have  been  the 
date.  It  was  probably  written  for  a  performance  before  the 
Court  at  Whitehall  on  Twelfth  Night,  Jan.  6th.  [602.  It  was 
not  published  till  the  folio  of  1623.  The  second  title,  What 
You  Will,  indicates  the  character  of  the  piece — a  combination 
of  comedy  and  romance  with  some  almost  tragic  touches  of 
reality.  An  internal  note  of  time  is  the  reference  to  the  'new 
map'  (in.  2.  84-6),  first  issued  with  Hakluyt's  Voyages  (1599  or 
i6co).  A  comparison  with  the  Early  Comedies  shows  an 
immense  advance  in  dramatic  power  :  e.g.  Viola  with  Julia  in 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona ;  the  wreck  and  the  mistaken 
identities  here  and  in  The  Comedy  of  Errors.  The  'musical 
element'  is  more  fully  developed  and  pervasive  than  in  The 
Jllerchant  of  Venice ;  while  the  happy  blending  of  comic 
prose  with  the  most  exquisite  poetry  is  an  advance  even  on  the 
Later  History  group.  The  verse  tests  corroborate  this  estimate 
of  the  period. 

Orsino,  Duke  of    Illyria,    loves    Olivia,    who    rejects    him, 
piot  being   devoted    to  mourning  for  her  brother's 

death.  Viola,  the  twin  sister  of  Sebastian, 
saved  like  him  from  a  shipwreck,  disguises  herself 
as  a  page  (Cesario)  and  entering  Orsino's  service, 
falls  in  love  with  him.  Orsino  employs  her  in  love- 
messages  to  Olivia,  who  becomes  infatuated  with  the  beautiful 
page,  and  at  last  avows  her  love.  Sir  Toby  Belch,  Olivia's 
uncle,  and  his  dupe  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek,  who  hopes  to 
marry  Olivia's  wealth,  turn  her  house  into  a  tavern  with  their 
revelry;  checked  only  by  Maria,  the  maid,  and  the  puritanical 
steward  Malvolio.  Feste,  the  fool,  makes  himself  useful  by 
turns  to  every  one.  They  all,  except  Olivia,  detest  Malvolio  ; 
and  Maria  feigns  her  mistress's  hand  in  a  love-letter  addressed 
to  him  and  left  in  his  way.  He  falls  into  the  trap  and  behaves 
so  absurdly  that  Olivia  allows  him  to  be  treated  as  a  madman. 
Feste,  disguised  as  a  curate,  tries  to  exorcise  the  devil  from 
Malvolio,     imprisoned     in    a     dark     room.       Meantime    Sir 


SPECIAL    PLAYS.  161 

Toby  has  embroiled  the  page,  Cesario,  in  a  duel  with  Sir 
Andrew;  Sebastian  returns  and  is  taken  by  everybody  for 
Cesario.  Olivia  is  betrothed  to  him  under  this  illusion; 
and  similarly  Sir  Toby  and  Sir  Andrew  finish  the  interrupted 
duel  by  being  well  thrashed  by  him.  The  mistake  is  cleared 
up  as  soon  as  the  brother  and  sister  meet,  and  the  play  ends 
with  a  triple  wedding,  Sir  Toby  with  Maria,  Sebastian  with 
Olivia,  and  the  Duke  with  Viola. 

The  main  plot  is  found    in     Barnabe    Riche's    History   of 
Apollonius    and    Silla,    which  was  taken  from 

Source.  . 

Cinthio  s  Hecatomnilhi,  and  that  again  from 
Bandello's  Novelle.  Manningham  supposed  it  to  be  taken  from 
one  of  two  Italian  plays  (1562  and  1592),  both  entitled  GV  In- 
ganni  (The  Cheats).  The  second  of  these  may  have  suggested  the 
name  '  Cesario. '  Another  Italian  play,  GV  Ingannati  (1537)  is 
still  closer  to  Shakespeare's,  and  in  its  Induction  contains  the 
name  '  Malevolti,'  whence  possibly  'Malvolio.'  We  know  that 
Shakespeare  took  Italian  lessons  from  Florio  (p.  116)  ;  very 
probably  he  read  these  plays  with  his  tutor.  But  the  vital 
part  of  this  comedy— the  Malvolio,  Maria,  Sir  Toby,  and 
Sir  Andrew  underplot— is  Shakespeare's  own. 

Viola   is   more    delicately    feminine  than  Rosalind,  but  has 

less  intellect  and  strength  of  will  than    Portia ; 

her  masculine  disguise  suits  her  less  than  her 
two  prototypes.  A  sweet  humility  and  a  deep,  tender  loyalty  in 
love  are  her  chief  characteristics.  Olivia  is  a  gracious  lady, 
with  strong  common  sense  and  force  of  character  ;  she  has  the 
pride  of  her  rank,  doomed  to  a  fall  in  her  meeting  with  Cesario. 
'  She  is,'  writes  Lamb,  '  particularly  excellent  in  her  unbending 
scenes  with  the  Clown.  She  uses  him  for  her  sport,  to  trifle  a 
leisure  sentence  or  two  with,  and  then  to  be  dismissed  and  she 
to  be  the  Great  Lady  still.  Her  imperious  fantastic  humour 
fills  the  scene. ..Malvolio  is  not  essentially  ludicrous.  He 
becomes  comic,  but  by  accident.  He  is  cold,  austere,  repell- 
ing ;  but  dignified,  consistent,  and  rather  of  an  over-stretched 
morality.  He  might  have  worn  his  gold  chain  with  honour 
in  the  service  of    a    Lambert   or    a    Lady    Fairfax.     But    his 

11 


162  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

morality  and  his  manners  are  misplaced  in  Illyria.  He  is 
opposed  to  the  proper  levities  of  the  piece,  and  falls  in  the 
unequal  contest.  His  quality  is  at  the  best  unlovely,  but 
neither  buffoon  nor  contemptible.  He  has  an  air  of  Spanish 
loftiness ;  he  looks  and  speaks  like  an  old  Castilian,  starch, 
spruce,  opinionated.  When  the  poison  of  self-love,  in  his 
conceit  of  the  Countess's  affection,  begins  to  work,  you  would 
think  that  Don  Quixote  himself  stood  before  you.'  Feste  is  at 
home  in  every  kind  of  company  ;  a  professional  jester,  rather 
than  a  philosopher  in  motley,  like  Touchstone.  His  closing 
song  gives  the  quintessence  of  Shakespeare's  ideal  clown. 
The  Duke  is  almost  as  self-consciously  sentimental  as  Jaques  ; 
but  he  has  a  capacity  for  affection  and  is  free  from  cynicism. 
He  recalls  Richard  II.  Maria  is  admirably  clever,  but  just 
meets  her  deserts  in  marrying  Sir  Toby.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  him.  He  is  as  little  akin  to  Falstaff  as  is  Parolles. 
Malvolio  is  the  real  hero  of  the  play. 

The    supernatural    element,    properly    speaking,    has    no 

Supernatural  PlaCe     in     an?     °f  the  Later  Comedies.       But  it 

element.  js  noteworthy  that  Pythagoras's    philosophical 

doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of  souls  seems  to  have  been 
much  in  Shakespeare's  mind  at  this  period.  It  comes  out 
prominently  in  this  play  (iv.  2.  54-65),  and  incidentally  in 
As  You  Like  It  (ill.  2.  186-8). 


JULIUS  CAESAR. 

This,  the  first  of  the    Roman   plays,    (1600-1)    must    have 
been  acted  before  Weever's  Mirror  of  Martyrs 

Date  and  period.         ,    ,       .  .  .  .,         ,    ,  _*_:..„ 

( 1 601)  was  written,  since  the  latter  contains 
an  indubitable  reference  to  the  speeches  of  Brutus  and  Antony 
(m.  2).  Drayton's  Barons'  Wars  (1603),  a  revision  of  his 
Mor timer iados,  has  some  new  lines  based  apparently  upon 
Antony's  oration  over  Brutus   (v.    5.    71-80).     Hamlet    (1602) 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  163 

contains  several  references  to  the  subject  of  this  play,  as  if  it 
were  then  fresh  in  Shakespeare's  mind  (i.  i.  1 13-120  ;  in.  2.  107- 
iii  ;  v.  1.  235-8),  and  the  unusual  phrase  "  hugger-mugger," 
applied  by  the  king  to  the  funeral  of  Polonius  (iv.  5.83-4) 
seems  a  reminiscence  of  a  passage  in  North's  Life  of  Brutus, 
'Caesar's  body  should  be  honourably  buried,  not  in  hugger- 
mugger.'  It  must  have  been  written  later  than  1600,  since 
the  word  '  eternal '  is  substituted  for  the  proper  word  '  infernal  ' 
(1.  2.  160),  as  it  is  also  twice  in  Hamlet  and  once  in  Othello. 
Similarly  '  heaven  '  is  substituted  in  later  editions  of  Shakes- 
peare's plays  for  '  God  '  in  earlier  editions.  Obviously  these 
alterations  were  a  concession  to  the  Puritan  prejudices  which 
led  to  the  Act  of  James  I.  against  abuses  of  the  stage.  Now 
the  word  '  infernal  '  occurs  in  Much  Ado,  2  Henry  IV  and 
Titus  Andronicus,  all  printed  in  1600.  Hence  we  arrive  at 
the  conclusion  that  1600  and  1601  are  the  outside  limits  for 
the  date.  Its  production  in  1601  may  have  been  intended  as  a 
wholesome  corrective  to  Essex's  rebellion  in  that  year.  The 
perfect  balance  of  thought  and  form,  the  keen  insight,  wide 
range  of  conception,  and  delicacy  of  characterisation,  combine 
to  assign  this  play  to  the  period  of  Shakespeare's  matured  art ; 
while  the  verse  tests,  the  comparative  infrequency  of  '  light 
endings'  and  'weak  endings  '  (p.  132)  shew  it  to  be  of  a  period 
distinctly  earlier  than  Antony  and  Cleopatra  and  Coriolanus. 
It  was  not  printed  till  1623  (in  the  folio). 

Julius  C^sar,  who  now  shews  signs  both  of  bodily  and 
mental  infirmity,  is  almost,  worshipped  by  the 
people  and  by  the  senate.  But  his  growing 
power  is  dreaded  by  the  tribunes  Flavius  and  Marullus,  and 
by  Cassius,  Brutus,  and  Casca.  At  the  Lupercalia  at  which 
Caesar  is  thrice  offered  (and  refuses)  a  kingly  crown  the 
three  latter  initiate  a  conspiracy,  afterwards  matured  in 
Brutus's  orchard.  They  then  repair  to  Caesar's  house.  He 
has  been  persuaded  to  stay  at  home  by  his  wife  Calpurnia, 
who  fears  supernatural  portents  of  his  death.  But  Decius 
cleverly  overpersuades  him  ;  he  goes  with  the  conspirators  to 
the    Capitol,    and     is     assassinated.     Mark     Antony    parleys 


164  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

with  the  conspirators,  and  is  allowed  by  Brutus  to  speak, 
after  himself,  in  the  Forum  at  Caesar's  funeral.  In  this 
speech,  with  consummate  art,  Antony  wins  over  the  populace  to 
Caesar's  side,  rousing  them  to  reckless  antagonism  to  Brutus 
and  his  associates.  Antony,  Octavious  and  Lepidus,  now 
left  masters  of  the  situation  in  Rome,  ruthlessly  doom  to 
death  all  their  political  enemies  ;  while  dissensions  break  out 
among  the  rebels,  encamped  near  Sardis.  Cassius  and  Brutus 
have  a  serious  quarrel,  which  however,  through  Brutus's 
magnanimity,  ends  in  a  loving  reconciliation.  Cassius  conse- 
quently yields  to  Brutus  on  military  questions  ;  an  error  which 
leads  to  fatal  mistakes  in  their  plan  of  campaign,  and  to  their 
defeat  in  the  battle  of  Philippi.  Cassius  makes  his  attendant 
kill  him  ;  and  amid  the  ruin  of  all  his  hopes,  Brutus  falls  on 
his  own  sword,  acknowledging  the  triumph  of  Caesar's 
imperial  spirit. 

The    whole  play  is  taken  from  The  Lives  of  Caesar,  Brutus, 
and  Antony   in    North's    translation    of    Plut- 

Source.  J 

arch's  Lives  (1597).  Shakespeare  rightly  re- 
verenced Plutarch,  and  as  far  as  possible  follows  his  very  words. 
But  he  uses  a  dramatist's  license  :  thus,  (1)  he  makes  Caesar's 
triumph  coincident  with  the  Lupercalia  ;  (2)  he  amalgamates  the 
two  battles  of  philippi  ;  and  (3)  he  makes  the  assassination, 
the  funeral,  and  the  arrival  of  Octavius  happen  on  the  same 
day.  He  also,  contrary  to  Plutarch,  follows  Chaucer's  Monk's 
Tale  in  placing  Caesar's  death  in  the  Capitol  (as  also  in 
Hamlet;  in.  2.  108-1 10).  The  all-important  speeches  of  Brutus 
and  Mark  Antony  are  not  in  Plutarch  :  some  hints  for  them 
may  have  been  taken  from  Appian's  Civil  Wars,  translated 
into  English  in  1578.  Mr.  Gollancz  has  shown  that  Brutus's 
speech  is  almost  a  translation,  into  what  Plutarch  describes  as 
Brutus's  laconic  style,  of  Hamlet's  lengthy  justification  of 
himself  for  the  murder  of  his  uncle  (from  Betteiorest's  If ys/orie 
of  1 1  amble  t) 

Hamlet   and    Julius    Casar    seem    to    have  filled   Shake- 
Characters  speare's  mind  simultaneously   for    some   time 
before   either   was  written.     The  central  idea 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  165 

is    the    same    in    both :    the    tragic    situation    in    each      is 
that    of  a  man    who   by    habit   and  constitution  is  disqualified 
for   a   terrible    duty   laid    upon    him  by  fate.      Thus  Brutus 
is   the   real    hero    of    the    play,    though   the   'spirit  of   Caesar' 
dominates    it    from    first    to    last.       With      terrible     dramatic 
irony   we  see    how    the   conspirators,  strong  in  the  support  of 
Brutus's    high-souled    but    doctrinaire    republicanism,    set   the 
man  Caesar  free  from  his  belittling  infirmities,  and  through  his 
death   make    Caesarism  immortal.     Brutus  is  the  perfect    Stoic 
philosopher:  sternly  self-possessed  under  the    crushing  sorrow 
of  his  wife's  death ;  tender  as  a  woman  towards  his  dependants, 
but  adamant  against  every  form  of  dishonour.     In    his    speech 
at  Caesar's  funeral,  unlike  Antony  who  appeals  to  the  emotions, 
he  characteristically  appeals  only  to  reason  and    the    sense    of 
right.     Cassius    hates   Caesar  from  personal  jealousy,  and  uses 
the  high  reputation  of  Brutus  to  screen  the  petty  motives  which 
animate  himself  and  his  fellow- conspirators.     He  is  not    over- 
scrupulous ;    but   he    has  a  genuine  love    for    Brutus,   and    is 
completely  dominated  by  his  moral  greatness  ;  so  much   so   as 
to    allow   himself    to   be  over-ruled  by  him  in  practical  matters 
where  Brutus  has  far  less  insight.      Mark  Antony  is    rather   an 
artist-soul   than    a  voluptuary ;  a  born  orator,  imaginative   and 
emotional,  he  rouses  the  passion  of  pity  and  love  for  the  dead 
Caesar  which  sweeps  the  Roman  mob    out   of   themselves    into 
a  tempest  of  destructive  fury,  while   he    himself  unconcernedly 
uses    that   fury  for  political  ends.     Octavius  is  lightly  touched, 
but  we  get  a  glimpse  of  the  master-soul  which  hereafter  will  be 
the  ruler    of   the    Roman    world.     The   female   characters  are 
subordinate  ;    but    Portia,  the    wife    of    Brutus,  is  in  every  way 
worthy  of  her  husband.     Theirs  is  a  'marriage  of  true  minds' ; 
the   solitary    instance    of    a  perfect  ideal  marriage  in  the  whole 
range  of  Shakespeare's  plays  or  poems. 

The    element    of    the    supernatural    is    chiefly    confined  to 

Supernatural  omens   and    portents  which    are     introduced 

element.  with    singularly  dramatic  effect:  (i)  the  sooth- 

sayers's  prediction,  'Beware  the  Ides  of  March' ;  (2)    a   terrific 

thunderstorm   and  meteoric  shower  ;  (3)  a  slave  with  a  burning 


166  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

arm,  and  men  on  fire ;  (4)  a  lion  and  lioness  in  the  streets  ;  (5) 
an  owl  in  the  market-place  at  noonday  ;  (6)  ghosts  coming 
from  opened  graves  •,  (7)  Calpurnia's  dream  of  Cassar's  bleed- 
ing statue  ;  (8)  war  in  the  sky,  drizzling  blood  ;  no  heart  found  in 
a  sacrificed  animal.  All  these  precede  Coesar's  murder.  Then 
we  have  (9)  the  ghost  of  Coesar  foreboding  defeat  to  Brutus  ; 
(10)  the  omen  of  the  eagles'  desertion,  and  the  advent  of 
ravens,  crows,  and  kites  on  the  dawn  of  the  last  battle,  which 
convert  Cassius  from  his  Epicurean  philosophy  ;  and  (11)  the 
coincidence  of  Cassius's  birthday  with  the  day  of  his  death. 


HAMLET. 

This  play  (1602-3)  appears  to  have  been  written  as  a  rough 
draft,  altered  from  an  old    play,    about    1602  ; 

Date  and  period. 

and  afterwards  revised  to  its  present  form 
about  1603.  A  pirated  patched-up  edition  of  the  rough  draft 
was  published  in  the  first  quarto  (entered  1602,  printed  1603) 
and  the  real  play  in  the  second  quarto  (1604).  Meres  does  not 
mention  Hamlet,  so  that  the  old  play  was  not  Shakespeare's ; 
and  his  play  must  be  later  than  1598.  The  folio  edition 
(1623)  and  the  second  quarto  supplement  each  other's 
infrequent  omissions.  A  passage  in  the  play  (11.  2.  341-379) 
clearly  refers  to  the  war  between  the  boy-actors  and  the 
regular  companies  (124),  which  began  in  1600  and  reached 
its  climax  in  1601,  towards  the  close  of  which  year  Shake- 
speare's company  was  'travelling'.  Thus  1602  seems  fairly 
fixed  as  the  date  of  the  first  production  of  the  play.  We  have 
already  seen  (163)  that  it  belongs  to  the  same  period  as 
yulius  Ccesar. 

Hamlet,   Prince    of  Denmark,  troubled  at  the  marriage  of 

his    mother    Gertrude    two    months  after    his 
Plot. 

father's       death      with     his      usurping    uncle 

Claudius,  learns    from    his    father's   ghost   that    Claudius    had 

seduced     his     mother   and    poisoned    his    father.     The    duty 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  167 

of   revenge    on    Claudius   is    solemnly   laid    upon    him.       He 
determines    to   feign    madness    to   avoid    suspicion.      Mean- 
time   Ophelia,    whom    he    loves,    has    been    warned    by    her 
brother   Laertes   and   her    father    Polonius,   to  reject  Hamlet's 
addresses.      Two   friends    of    Hamlet's    youth,    Rosencrantz 
and    Guildenstern,    are    employed    by    the    King    to    inves- 
tigate    Hamlet's     strange     behaviour ;    and     Ophelia    lends 
herself  to  a  like  plot,  in    which  her  father  and    the  king  are 
eavesdroppers.     The  advent   of  some  strolling  players  suggests 
to  Hamlet  that  by  presenting  before  the   Court  a  play  depicting 
his   father's    murder  he  may,  by  watching  his  uncle,  gain  clear 
proof   of    his  guilt.      The    conscience-stricken   king   abruptly 
breaks    up   the    entertainment,    and    subsequently   kneeling  in 
remorseful  prayer,  is  spared  by    Hamlet   lest   he    should    send 
his  soul  to  heaven.     In  a   private    interview   with   his   mother, 
in   which    he   awakens   her  remorse,    Hamlet  hears  some   one 
behind  the  arras,  and,  thinking  it  is  the  king,    kills   the    spying 
Polonius.      The   king    now    sends    Hamlet   to    England,    with 
secret   instructions   for    his    execution.     Ophelia,    insane  with 
grief,  is   accidentally  drowned.     Laertes,    demanding   satisfac- 
tion  for    his    father's    death,    is  persuaded    by  the  king  to  join 
in  a  plot   to    kill    Hamlet    in    a   fencing-match.     For    Hamlet 
discovering   the  king's  device,   has    returned,    and   by   forging 
a  fresh   letter   has    sent    Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  to  their 
deaths.     Hamlet    meets    Laertes    at    Ophelia's    funeral,  where 
they   have  a  violent  scuffle,  and  are  with   difficulty   parted.     At 
the  fencing-match  the  king,  to  make  doubly  sure,  has  prepared 
a  cup  of  poisoned  wine  for  Hamlet.     The   Queen   accidentally 
drinks   it;  Hamlet    is    wounded    by  the  poisoned  rapier ;  in  a 
scuffle   the    weapons    are    changed,  so  that  Laertes  is  wounded 
with  his  own  weapon,  and  in  dying   confesses    his  own  and  the 
king's   treachery.     Hamlet  stabs    the    king,   and    dies  shortly 
before    the    arrival    of   Fortinbras,    who    is    destined  to  be  the 
king    of    Denmark.      Fortinbras    is    the    hero   of   a    political 
underplot    ( i.  i.  70-107;  11.    2.    59-80:  &   iv.  4),  which  gives 
Hamlet   an    opportunity   for    soliloquising  upon  his  own  over- 
scrupulous indecision. 


168  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

The    plot    was    taken    from    an  old  play,  Hamlet,  now  lost, 
written     apparently     by    Kyd    and    acted   by 

Source. 

Shakespeare's  company  in  1594;  as  is  proved 
by  an  entry  in  the  diary  of  one  of  the  actors,  Henslowe.  It  is 
referred  to  by  Nash  in  a  preface  to  Green's  Menaphon  (1589)  ; 
and  in  terms  which  almost  prove  that  Kyd  was  the  author,  and 
that  the  queen's  platitude  about  death  (1.  2.  72-3)  is  taken  from 
it.  Lodge  in  Wit's  Miserie  (1596)  also  quotes  from  it  a  line 
which  certainly  is  not  Shakespeare's.  The  first  quarto  is  no 
doubt  Kyd's  play  rewritten  by  Shakespeare.  It  is  about  half 
as  long  as  the  present  play,  and  in  it  the  queen  avows  inno- 
cence of  all  complicity  in  her  husband's  murder,  and  actively 
supports  Hamlet's  purposed  revenge.  The  names  Corambis 
and  Montano  are  used  instead  of  Polonius  and  Reynaldo.  An 
independent  German  version  of  this  old  play  survives,  with 
Corambus  instead  of  Polonius  and  with  other  peculiarities,  all 
confirming  the  view  that  Kyd  wrote  the  original.  The  story 
on  which  all  the  plays  alike  are  founded  is  in  the  Historia 
Danica  of  Saxo  Grammaticus,  written  towards  the  close  of 
the  twelfth  century  ;  and  traces  of  the  legend  are  found  in 
Icelandic  literature  two  hundred  years  before  Saxo.  Shake- 
speare probably  read  a  French  version  of  Saxo's  story,  given 
in  Belleforest's  Histories  Tragiques  (1570).  We  have  seen 
(p.  164)  how  the  speech  of  Brutus  after  Caesar's  death  was 
taken  from  that  book.  Shakespeare  may  have  read  an  English 
version,  but  the  earliest  translation  excant  was  published  in 
1608,  under  the  title  of  The  Hy stork  of  Hamblet.  All  the 
names  except  those  of  Hamlet  and  his  mother  are  different ; 
the  story  is  the  same,  except  that  Hamlet  returning  from 
England  kills  his  uncle,  burns  his  palace,  and  makes  a  speech 
to  the  Danes  to  justify  himself  (this  Shakespeare  leaves  to 
Horatio) ;  he  then  revisits  England,  marries  two  wives,  by  one 
ot  whom  on  his  return  to  Denmark  he  is  betrayed  and  so 
killed  in  battle.  The  time  of  the  play  is  fixed  by  England's 
supposed  subjection  to  Denmark  (iv.  3.  60-7  &  in.  1.  177-8)  in 
the  ninth  century.  Shakespeare  does  not  trouble  himself 
about  such  anachronisms  as  the  use  of  cannon  at  that  date. 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  169 

As  regards  the  queens'  complicity  in  her  first  husband's 
death,  Shakespeare  is  silent  in  his  finally 
amended  drama.  As  she  had  been  guilty  of 
adultery  during  her  husband's  life,  and  as  she  and  Claudius 
are  always  on  terms  of  loving  intimacy  (iv.  7.  12-16  &  nr.  4. 
1S1-8),  we  infer  that  she  may  have  been  an  accomplice.  But, 
comparing  the  king's  secrecy  about  the  poisoned  rapier  (iv. 
7.  67-9)  with  the  queen's  obvious  ignorance  of  poison  in  the 
cup  (v.  2.  301-2),  we  may  give  her  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 
An  unconquerable  love  for  her  son  is  her  redeeming  feature. 
Ophelia  is  affectionate  and  clinging  ;  but  she  has  no  will  of 
her  own,  and  readily  allows  herself  to  be  made  a  tool  by  her 
worldly  associates.  Polonius  has  a  hoard  of  copy-book 
maxims  (taken  from  Lyly's  Euphues)  which  he  signally  dis- 
regards in  his  own  life.  He  is  a  shallow  worldling.  Hamlet, 
a  dreamy  student,  untrained  in  the  activities  of  the  world, 
with  an  intellect,  an  imagination,  and  an  emotional  nature 
that  can  find  no  scope  in  the  little  world  which  is  his  'prison,' 
has  his  faith  in  womanhood  slowly  poisoned  by  his  mother's 
marriage,  by  the  terrible  revelations  of  the  ghost,  and  by 
Ophelia's  shallow  trickeries.  Yet  he  has  no  proof — nothing 
to  warrant  definite  action ;  and  so  drifts  aimlessly  onwards 
till  the  'trap'  of  the  players  provides  him  with  justification  for 
a  rational  revenge,  and  chance  puts  the  king  at  his  mercy. 
That  is  the  moral  crisis  of  the  drama.  But  his  inveterate 
habit  of  weighing  both  sides  of  every  question  leads  him, 
when  the  moment  for  action  comes,  to  catch  at  an  excuse 
for  doing  nothing,  and  the  chance  is  lost.  Thenceforward 
all  goes  wrong  ;  and  his  vengeance  is  effected  at  last  only  by 
an  accident,  in  which  he  himself  and  his  mother  are  over- 
whelmed in  one  common  destruction  with  the  guilty  king  and 
his  tool,  Laertes.  Horatio  and  Hamlet  stand  out  alone  against 
a  background  of  universal  shallowness,  trickery,  corruption, 
and  crime. 

In  the  Ghost    Shakespeare    has    followed    all    the    popular 

The  Super-  superstitions  on  that    subject:  its  coming  after 

natural  element.      midnight,   and  departure  with   cockcrow    and 


170  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

the  dawn;  its  silence  unless  challenged  by  the  right  person  or 
by  some  one  who  is  a  'scholar.'  But  the  ghost  in  Hamlet 
ranks  far  higher  than  do  such  apparitions  in  other  plays.  It 
is,  like  the  ghost  in  Macbeth,  only  visible  to  those  who  are  in 
spiritual  sympathy  with  its  warnings  ;  it  stands  for  the  ever 
present  yet  elusive  mystery  of  the  Supernatural. 


KING  LEAR. 

This   play    (1605)    was   performed  before  King  James  I  on 

Date  and  period.  Dec>  26th>  l6°6  >  the  change  of  'Englishman' 
to  'British  man'  in  the  nursery  rhyme  that 
ends  Act  III.  Sc.  4,  implies  that  it  was  written  after  his  acces- 
sion in  1603.  The  names  of  Edgar's  devils,  and  other  details 
in  the  scene  just  quoted,  are  derived  from  Harsnett's  Declara- 
tion of  Popish  Impostures  (1603).  Some  probable  allusions 
(1.2.  112,  148-153)  to  an  eclipse  of  the  sun  in  1605,  which 
quickly  followed  one  of  the  moon,  and  a  possible  reference  to 
the  Gunpowder  Plot  (1.  2.  116-124)  confirm  1605  as  the  like- 
liest date.  In  general  characteristics  of  form  and  expression, 
supported  by  verse  tests,  it  comes  under  the  group  of  Later 
Tragedies. 

Lear,  King  of  Britain,  has  three  daughters  :  Goneril,    wife 
of  the   Duke  of  Albanv,  Regan,  wife  of  Corn- 
wall,  and  Cordelia,    whose    suitors,    the   King 
of   France,   and    the    Duke   of  Burgundy,  are  staying  at  Lear's 
Court.     The  aged  king  decides  to  divide  his    kingdom    among 
his    daughters    in   proportion    to  the  love  they  bear  him.     The 
hypocritical    Goneril    and  Regan  receive  each  one-third  ;  while 
the  true-hearted  Cordelia  is  disinherited,  and  her  share  is  given 
to  her  sisters.     The  faithful  Earl  of    Kent,    for    taking    Corde- 
lia's   part,    is   banished  on  pain  of  death,  and  the  French  king 
takes  Cordelia  with  him  to  be  his  wife.     Kent  disguises  himself 
as    a    servant,    Caius,    and    risks    the    death-penalty,  to  protect 
Lear     against     his     daughters.     For      gradually      they    give 
vent    to     the    cruelty    of    their    natures  ;    till    Lear,     accom- 

iied     only   bv   his    Fool    quits    them    in    wild      rage      and 


SPECIAL  PLAYS.  171 

braves  the  fury  of  a  stormy  night.  They  meet  Caius  and 
shelter  in  a  hovel,  where  they  find  a  Bedlam-beggar,  really  the 
disguised  son  of  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  Edgar,  whom  his 
bastard  brother  Edmund  has  supplanted.  Next  day  Caius 
removes  Lear  to  Dover  ;  then  hastens  to  France,  and  persuades 
Cordelia  to  come  with  an  armed  force  to  reinstate  him.  In  a 
pathetic  interview  the  mad  king  half  recognises  Cordelia  and 
implores  her  forgiveness.  Meanwhile  Gloucester,  for  his 
sympathy  with  Lear,  has  been  blinded  by  Cornwall,  but  is 
affectionately  cared  for  by  his  disguised  son  Edgar.  Regan 
and  Goneril  are  both  in  love  with  Edmund,  who  has  usurped 
Gloucester's  dukedom.  Cornwall  dies,  wounded  by  his  servant ; 
Albany  and  Edmund  defeat  Cordelia's  forces  and  she  and 
Lear  are  taken  prisoners.  Edgar  now  challenges  Edmund 
as  a  traitor  ;  the  latter  falls  in  the  combat,  and  confesses  his 
guilt  as  Edgar  reveals  himself.  Regan  has  been  poisoned  by 
Goneril,  who  commits  suicide.  Cordelia  is  found  strangled  in 
prison,  and  Lear  dies  with  her  in  his  arms.  Albany  is  left  to 
restore  the  fortunes  of  distracted   Britain. 

The   main    story   was    taken    probably    from    Holinshed's 
Chronicle  or  from  a  dramatised  version  of  that 

Source. 

story  (1593).  The  story  itself  is  ancient :  it  is 
told  by  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  in  his  Historia  Britonum 
(1130);  by  Layamon  Brut  (about  1200);  by  Higgins  in  the 
Mirror  for  Magistrates  (1574)  ;  and  by  Spenser  in  the  Faery 
Queen  (1580-98).  From  Spenser  Shakespeare  took  'Cordelia* 
as  the  form  of  the  heroine's  name.  The  underplot  of  Gloucester 
and  his  two  sons  comes  from  Sidney's  Arcadia.  In  the  old 
story  the  French  army  is  victorious  and  Lear  is  reinstated  ; 
though  after  Lear's  death,  Cordelia  is  conquered  by  her  sisters' 
sons,  and  hangs  herself  in  prison.  The  tragic  ending  of  Lear  is 
Shakespeare's  own.  Nahum  Tate  restored  the  'happy  ending' 
and  married  Edgar  to  Cordelia  (1680). 

Lear  is  palpably  insane    at   the    outset;    he   represents    the 
wreck  of  a  wilful,  passionate,    self-centred  life. 

Characters.  _,       .  ,  ,      .  ,  , 

But  he  has  deep  need  or  love,  and   a   capacity 
for   inspiring  profound  devotion  in  others,  as  in  Kent,  Glouce- 


172  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

ster,  and  the  Fool,  to  say  nothing  of  Cordelia.  His  tragic 
misfortunes  simply  develop  to  the  utmost  alike  the  good  and 
the  evil  in  his  nature  ;  he  is  a  Richard  II,  drawn  on  a  Titanic 
scale — a  subtle  study  in  moral  insanity.  Of  Cordelia  Mrs. 
Jameson  says  that  besides  all  the  other  loveable  and  beautiful 
characteristics  of  Shakespeare's  heroines  she  is  distinguished  by 
'a  natural  reserve,  a  veiled  shyness  thrown  over  all  her  emotions, 
her  language,  and  her  manner,  making  the  outward  demons- 
tration invariably  fall  short  of  what  we  know  to  be  the  feeling 
within.'  Goneril  and  Regan  are  summed  up  in  Milton's 
pregnant  phrase,  Must  hard  by  hate.'  Dowden  regards  Goneril 
as  'the  calm  wielder  of  a  pitiless  force,  the  resolute  initiator  of 
cruelty.  Regan  is  a  smaller,  shriller,  fiercer,  more  eager  piece 
of  malice.  The  tyranny  of  the  elder  sister  is  as  little  affected 
by  tenderness  or  scruple  as  the  action  of  some  crushing 
hammer  ;  Regan's  ferocity  is  more  unmeasured,  but  less 
abnormal  or  monstrous,'  Edmund,  like  Richard  III,  neither 
fears  God  nor  regards  man  ;  he  has  a  callous  contempt  for  his 
father's  credulity,  and  uses  it  remorselessly  to  gain  his  own 
ends.  But  he  shows  a  brave  magnanimity  in  accepting  a 
nameless  challenger,  and  at  the  point  of  death  strives  to  undo 
the  treachery  he  had  plotted  against  Cordelia.  The  Fool  is 
one  of  the  poet's  masterpieces.  He  combines  the  shrewd 
wit,  the  ready  tongue,  the  apposite  jest  of  Shakespeare's  other 
Fools  with  a  tragic  intensity  of  selfless  devotion  that  is  all 
his  own. 


Date  and   period. 


MACBETH. 

Since  Dr.  Forman  saw  Macbeth  at  the  Globe  Theatre  in 
1610,  it  must  have  been  written  before  then  ; 
and  earlier  than  1607,  if  a  passage  in  The 
Puritan  of  that  year  really  refers  to  Banquo's  ghost.  The 
undoubted  reference  in  Macbeth  (iv.  1.  120,)  to  the  union  of  the 
crowns  under  James  I  fixes  its  production  as   after    1603  ;    the 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  173 

prominence  given  to  the  'witches'  makes  it  probably  follow 
James's  Statute  against  Witchcraft  (1604)  ;  and  the  central 
theme  may  have  been  suggested  by  the  Oxford  students  who 
welcomed  James  I  in  1605  with  Latin  verses  based  upon  the 
prediction  of  the  'weird  sisters'  about  Banquo  and  Macbeth. 
The  supposed  references  (1)  to  the  plentiful  harvest  of  1606 
(ri-3-5)  >'  (2)  to  the  doctrine  of  'equivocation'  avowed  by 
Garnet  and  other  Jesuit  conspirators  at  their  trial  in  1606,  are 
only  probable.  A  date  between  the  limits  1605  and  1606  is 
generally  allowed  by  critics.  The  verse  tests,  and  general 
evidence  of  style  and  characterisation,  shew  that  it  belongs  to 
the  group  of  the  Later  Tragedies.  The  play  was  first  published 
in  the  folio  1623  ;  and  its  text  is  unusually  defective  and 
corrupt.  Several  passages,  chiefly  those  about  Hecate,  and  the 
scene  of  the  bleeding  soldier  (1.2)  are  by  many  critics  supposed 
to  have  been  interpolated  by  Middleton. 

Macbeth    and    Banquo    meet    on      a     lonely     heath     near 
_.  .  Forres    three    witches,    who    hail   Macbeth  as 

Plot.  ' 

thane  of  Glamis,  as  thane  of  Cawdor,  and  as 
King  •,  Banquo  is  to  be  the  father  of  kings,  though  not  one 
himself.  Macbeth's  promotion  to  be  thane  of  Cawdor  follows 
immediately.  Lady  Macbeth,  apprised  of  the  witches'  pro- 
phecy, encourages  her  husband  in  his  ambitious  imaginings. 
King  Duncan  arrives  at  Macbeth's  castle  ;  the  same  night  he 
and  his  wife  murder  Duncan  and  his  grooms,  making  it  appear 
that  the  latter  have  been  the  assassins.  Duncan's  sons,  Malcolm 
and  Donalbain,  take  refuge  in  England.  Macbeth  is  crowned 
king  •,  but,  distrustful  of  Banquo,  he  hires  two  murderers  to 
despatch  him  and  his  son  Fleance.  At  a  banquet,  to  which 
Banquo  has  been  invited,  his  ghost  twice  enters  and  sits  in 
Macbeth's  vacant  place,  visible  only  to  him  •,  and  the  feast  is 
broken  up  in  terror  and  confusion.  Suspicious  of  the  absence 
of  Macduff  from  the  banquet,  Macbeth  consults  the  witches, 
who  shew  him  three  apparitions.  The  first  tells  him  to  beware 
of  Macduff  ;  the  second,  that  none  of  woman  born  can  harm 
him ;  the  third,  that  he  is  safe  till  Birnam  wood  comes  to 
Dunsinane.     Macbeth  is  then  shown  the  long  line  of  Banquo's 


174  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

kingly  issue.  The  witches  vanish;  and  Macbeth,  hearing  that 
Macduff  has  fled,  slaughters  his  wife  and  children.  Macduff, 
with  Malcolm  and  the  English  general  Siward,  marches  against 
Macbeth  through  Birnam  wood,  where  every  soldier  is  ordered 
to  cut  down  and  carry  a  bough,  so  as  to  hide  their  numbers. 
Lady  Macbeth,  sick  with  remorse,  which  shows  itself  in  a 
pathetic  sleep-walking,  dies  in  the  castle  of  Dunsinane. 
Macbeth  hears  that  Birnam  wood  is  actually  moving ;  but  he 
still  defies  his  enemies,  till,  confronted  with  Macduff,  who  tells 
him  he  was  'untimely  ripped  from  his  mother,'  he  finds  this 
charm  also  is  worthless.  Macbeth,  thus  abandoned  by  heaven 
and  hell,  dies  fighting  desperately,  and  Malcolm  is  hailed  as 
king  of  Scotland. 

Shakespeare  took  the  story  from  Holinshed's  Chronicle  of 
England  and  Scotland  (1587);  but  he"  has 
skilfully  interwoven  with  it  many  details  from 
the  murder  of  King  Duffe,  the  great-grandfather  of  Lady 
Macbeth.  There  was  an  old  play  Macdobeth,  alluded  to  by 
Kempe  in  his  Nine  Days'  Wonder  (1600);  and  a  'ballad'  on 
Macdobeth  was  registered  in  1596.  For  his  witch  scenes  he 
may  have  studied  Scot's  Discoverie  of  Witchcraft  (1584),  and 
more  probably,  King  James's  Demonology  (1599).  Shakes- 
peare's chief  departure  from  Holinshed  consists  in  his  version 
of  Banquo's  character.  In  Holinshed's  Chronicle  Banquo 
jests  with  Macbeth  about  the  witches'  prophecy,  and  with  other 
nobles  was  privy  to  his  killing  the  king.  Also  Macduff  falls 
under  Macbeth's  suspicion  because  he  refuses  to  take  his 
share  in  building  the  castle  on  Dunsinane  hill.  The  passage 
about  'touching  for  the  evil'  (iv.  3.  146)  was  introduced  out  of 
compliment  to  James  I;  it  is  taken  from  Holinshed's  account 
of  Edward  the  Confessor,  whose  supposed  miraculous  powers 
James  believed  he  had  inherited.  Shakespeare's  noteworthy 
accuracy  in  his  descriptions  of  places  and  scenery  may  have 
come  from  personal  observation  (p.  1 1 9).  The  grim  humour  of  the 
porter  of  hell-gate  (11.  3.2-3)  is  a  reminiscence  of  the  old  Morality 
plays  (p.  11);  the  whole  scene  is  thoroughly  Shakespearean, 
and  a  necessary  artistic  relief  after  the  horror  of  the  murder.    It 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  175 

is  so  closely  connected  with  the  knocking  heard  in  the  previous 
scene  (dramatically  essential  to  that  scene)  that  Coleridge's 
theory  that  the  '  Porter  scene '  is  an  interpolation,  is  untenable. 

Macbeth's  character  is  the  tragedy  of  a  nature  dowered 
with  high  gifts  of  imagination,  sympathy,  and 
loyal  courage,  which  is  slowly  sapped  and 
poisoned  by  yielding  to  '  supernatural  soliciting'  to  evil,  which 
obtains  a  firmer  hold  upon  him  through  the  reckless  ambition 
of  the  wife  whom  he  loves.  One  by  one  his  finer  characteris- 
tics are  destroyed  by  the  growth  of  a  moral  insanity,  till  at  last 
nothing  is  left  but  the  ferocity  of  a  wild  beast.  The  evil  in 
Lady  Macbeth's  character,  her  remorseless  ambition,  we  see 
full-grown  at  the  outset  (1.5.  40-55).  She  is  not  hindered  by 
her  husband's  imaginative  faculty  or  honorable  scruples  ;  and 
since  her  ambitious  designs  are  more  for  her  husband  than 
herself,  she  refuses  to  see  any  evil  in  them.  Her  punishment 
lies  in  being  shut  out  from  further  active  participation  in  his 
plans  (in.  2.  45-6  &  iv.  1.  146-8).  We  almost  forget  her 
crimes  in  the  pathetic  misery  of  her  lonely  remorse  (v.  1.  47-8, 
56-60).  Even  when  she  is  at  her  worst,  Shakespeare  has  put 
in  the  one  redeeming  touch  of  natural  affection  (n.  2.  13-14). 
The  tall  virago-like  Lady  Macbeth  of  stage-tradition  is  directly 
contradicted  by  Shakespeare's  '  this  little  hand.'  Bucknill  has 
well  said,  '  we  figure  Lady  Macbeth  a  tawny  or  brown-blonde 
Rachel  (the  famous  actress)  with  more  beauty,  with  grey  and 
cruel  eyes,  but  with  the  same  slight,  dry  configuration  and 
constitution,  instinct  with  determined  nerve-power.'  Banquo's 
character  is  beautifully  drawn :  his  steadfast  loyalty,  his  in- 
corruptible honour,  are  all  tersely  summed  up  in  one  phrase, 
a  reminiscence  of  Shakespeare's  studies  in  Roman  history — 

'  Under  him 
My    Genius    is    rebuked  ;    as,  it  is  said, 
Mark  Antony's  was  by  Caesar',     fin.  1 55-7) 

This  element  is  all  centred  in  the  '  weird  sisters.'      Holin- 
Supernaturai  shed    calls  them  the    'Goddesses  of  Destiny.' 

element.  Shakespeare  clearly  means  them  to  be  witches 

(1.  a.  44.7)  such  as  King  James  so  passionately  dreaded.     The 


176  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

'beard'  was  the  recognised  Elizabethan  characteristic  of  a  witch 
[M.  Wives  of  W.,  iv.  2.  203-15).  Everything  that  Shakespeare 
attributes  to  them  was  held  to  be  done  by  witches,  viz  ,  fore- 
telling the  future  ;  suddenly  appearing  and  vanishing  ;  creating 
storms ;  sailing  in  sieves,  etc.  These  powers  they  were 
supposed  to  possess  by  virtue  of  familiarity  with  devils  or  evil 
spirits  (iv.  1.  62-3  &  v.  8.  19-22).  The  incongruity  of  intro- 
ducing Hecate  (Diana)  with  these  witches  is  common  to  all 
Renaissance  poets.  Milton  was  not  singular  in  his  belief  that 
the  classical  gods  and  goddesses  were  really  devils.  Even  Bun- 
yan  introduces  Cerberus.  Alecto,  and  Tisiphone,  in  his  Holy 
War  along  with  the  Scriptural  Diabolus  and  Beelzebub  (see 
also  p.  183). 


CORIOLANUS. 

There    is    no    external    evidence    for    the  date  of   this  play 
(1607-8):    it    was    not    published  till  the  folio 

Date  and  period.  , 

(1623).  The  verse  tests  and  general  style  of 
composition  indicate  that  it  was  written  after  Antony  and 
Cleopatra  (1607-7).  On  the  other  hand  its  tragic  intensity 
places  it  before  Shakespeare's  closing  period  of  the  happy 
plays  of  'Reconciliation'  (1608  to  ?6u),  and  among  the  group 
of  Later  Tragedies  (1604  to  1608). 

The  common  people  of  Rome,  rising    in    rebellion   against 
p|  the   patricians,    are    ready    to   assassinate    the 

haughty  Caius  Marcius.  Another  patrician, 
Menenius  Agrippa,  by  his  kindliness  and  shrewd  mother-wit 
induces  them  to  listen  to  reason  ;  and  they  are  further  pacified 
by  the  grant  of  five  tribunes  to  look  after  their  interests.  War 
with  the  Volscians  ensues  ;  the  Romans  march  against  Corioli, 
which  after  several  repulses  is  taken  through  the  bravery  of 
Caius  Marcius.  hence  surnamed  Coriolanus.  Recommended 
by  the  Senators  for  popular  election  to  the  Consulship,  he  is 
obliged,    much    against  his  will,  to  solicit  the  popular  votes  by 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  177 

showing  himself  and  his  honourable  wounds  in  the  Forum. 
But  before  the  election  is  confirmed,  the  tribunes  Brutus  and 
Sicinius  craftily  contrive  to  make  his  patrician  pride  break  out 
in  scorn  of  the  people  and  threats  of  violence.  He  is  banished 
from  Rome ;  and  in  his  bitter  hatred  of  their  fickle  treachery 
he  betakes  himself  to  his  former  enemy,  the  Volscian  general, 
Tullus  Aufidius,  who  joyfully  receives  him.  The  two  lead  a 
Volscian  army  against  Rome.  The  Senators  are  in  despair  : 
Cominius  and  Menenius  vainly  intercede  with  Coriolanus  to 
share  the  city,  till  at  last  his  mother  Volumnia  and  his  wife 
Virgilia,  and  her  friend  Valeria,  break  down  his  pride  and  he 
consents  to  make  peace.  He  returns  with  Aufidius  to  Antium  ; 
where,  smarting  under  the  taunts  of  Aufidius,  he  turns  the 
Volscians  against  him  by  his  scornful  invective,  and  is  assassi- 
nated. When  he  is  dead,  their  anger  turns  to  remorse  and  he 
is  honoured  with  a  soldier's  funeral. 

In    his   story    Shakespeare    has  followed  as  closely  as  pos- 
sible   North's    translation  of  Plutarch's  Lives. 

Source. 

Volumnia's  speech  (v.  3.  94-148)  is  simply 
a  translation  of  North's  rugged  prose  into  the  music  of  the 
most  perfect  blank  verse.  Indeed  several  corrupt  lines  (the 
text  is  very  imperfect)  can  be  confidently  restored  by  compari- 
son with  North's  original.  The  'Fable  of  the  Belly'  (1.  1 .99- 
158),  however,  appears  to  have  been  taken  from  Camden's 
Remains  concerning  Britain  (1605).  The  character  of  Menenius, 
the  one  touch  of  comic  relief,  is  Shakespeare's  creation  ; 
Plutarch  says  no  more  than  that  he  was  one  of  'the  pleasantest 
old  men'  deputed  to  reason  with  the  mob. 

The  tragedy  of  this  play  is  the  inevitable  ruin  of  a  man 
who,  though  noble,  brave,  pure-minded,  and 
generous,  and  capable  within  the  limits  of  his 
own  class  of  strong  loyalty  and  love,  is  yet  dominated  by  one 
overmastering  vice,  the  arrogant  selfwill  of  the  aristocrat.  To 
him  the  common  people  are  mere  beasts  of  burden  :  that  they 
should  dare  to  claim  any  political  rights  simply  maddens  him. 
This  narrow  and  contemptuous  attitude  towards  outside 
humanity   works    itself  out  by  the  inexorable  logic  of  facts,  till 

12 


178  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

he  becomes  a  'lonely  dragon  of  the  fen,  more  feared  and  talked 
of  than  seen.'  He  makes  himself  into  a  god,  and  standing 
aloof  from  his  kind,  thus  brings  about  his  own  ruin.  Volumnia 
is  the  ideal  Roman  matron  ;  with  her,  patriotism  and  military 
glory  are  supreme  ;  nor  does  she  shrink  from  the  sacrifice  of 
her  own  son,  though  she  knows  that  if  he  spares  Rome,  it  is 
at  the  lisk  of  his  own  life.  She  has  all  her  son's  contempt 
for  the  common  people,  but  her  caste-pride  is  not  insane  like 
his;  she  recognises  that  it  must  be  limited  by  considerations 
of  prudence.  Menenius,  far  inferior  to  Coriolanus  in  strength 
of  character,  has  strong  commonsense  and  shrewdness  ;  above 
all,  he  has  the  saving  grace  of  recognising  a  real  human  kinship 
between  himself  and  the  people. 


CYMBELINE. 

This  play  (1609-10)  was  seen  by  Dr.  Forman  at  the  Globe 
n,fo  ,„H  „„,...       Theatre  between  1610  and  161 1.     It   was   not 

Date  ana  period. 

published  till  the  folio  (1623).  Some  pas- 
sages in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Philaster  (161C-11)  seem  to 
have  been  suggested  by  it.  There  is  no  other  trustworthy 
evidence  for  the  date.  But  all  the  general  characteristics,  as 
well  as  the  verse  tests,  point  to  it  as  one  of  the  closing  period 
of  Shakespeare's  art — the  group  between  Pericles  and  the 
Tempest. 

Cymbeline,  King  of  Britain,  has  a  daughter  Imogen,    whom 
piot  he  wishes   to    marry    to    the    boorish    Cloten, 

son  of  his  second  wife  by  a  former  husband. 
His  two  sons  Guiderius  and  Arviragus  (disguised  as  Polydore 
and  Cadwal)  had  been  stolen  in  infancy,  and  brought  up  as 
foresters  by  a  banished  lord  Belarius  (disguised  as  Morgan). 
Imogen  has  incurred  the  royal  displeasure  by  marrying 
Posihumus  Leonatus,  a  noble  Briton.  He  is  banished  to 
Rome,  where  he  foolishly  boasts  of  his  wife's    peerless    virtue. 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  179 

One  of  his  companions,  Iachimo,  wagers  to  corrupt  her  loyalty, 
and  by  a  crafty  device  persuades  Posthumus  that  he  has  suc- 
ceeded. The  maddened  husband  sends  a  trusty  servant 
Pisanio,  with  strict  orders  to  decoy  her  to  Milford  Haven,  and 
kill  her  on  the  journey.  Pisanio  reveals  the  plot-,  disguises 
her  as  a  page  for  the  service  of  the  Roman  ambassador  Lucius ; 
and,  returning  to  Court,  makes  Cloten  believe  that  Imogen 
is  with  Posthumus  in  Wales.  Imogen,  losing  her  way,  is 
hospitably  entertained  by  Belarius  and  his  supposed  sons. 
Cloten,  dressed  in  Posthumus's  clothes,  in  search  of  Posthumus 
meets  Guiderius,  who  kills  him  in  self-defence.  Imogen,  feeling 
ill,  takes  a  narcotic  medicine  given  her  by  Pisanio,  which 
makes  her  for  a  time  insensible  ;  she  is  laid  out  for  burial  with 
Cloten's  headless  body  beside  her.  On  awaking  she  swoons 
with  horror,  believing  the  corpse  to  be  her  husband's;  is 
discovered  thus  by  Lucius,  and  taken  into  his  service.  In  the 
ensuing  battle  between  the  Britons  and  Romans,  Cymbeline  is 
rescued  by  the  valour  of  Belarius  and  his  two  boys;  the 
Romans  are  defeated  ;  Lucius,  Posthumus,  and  Imogen  are 
brought  before  the  king,  who  has  just  heard  of  the  queen's 
death  and  of  her  treacherous  plottings  against  Imogen  and 
himself.  Belarius  restores  to  Cymbeline  his  long-lost  sons ; 
Posthumus  and  Imogen  are  reunited,  and  at  her  intercession 
even  Iachimo  is  forgiven.  Thus  all  ends  in  harmony  and 
'reconciliation.' 

The   plot  is  a  combination  of  a  fragment  of  British  history 
_  told  by  Holinshed,    and    one    of    Boccaccio's 

Source.  J 

stories  in  his  Decameron.  But  the  by-plot  of 
Belarius,  of  his  abduction  of  the  king's  sons,  and  of  their  life 
in  Wales  is  Shakespeare's  own,  though  Mr.  Gollancz  traces  the 
'Imogen'  part  of  it  to  the  German  fairly  tale  of  Stiow-white, 
which  Shakespeare  probably  knew  in  an  English  version  now 
lost.  This  play  contains  one  of  Shakespeare's  most  beautiful 
lyrics.  'Fear  no  more  the  heat  of  the  sun'  (iv.  2.  258-281). 
The  un- Shakespearian  vision  of  Posthumus  (v.  4.  30-122) 
is  supposed  to  have  been  inserted  by  some  stage  hack,  for 
the  sake  of  spectacular  effect. 


180  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

The  play,  writes  Dowden,  'is  loosely  constructed,  and  some 
passages  possess  little  dramatic  intensity ;  ' 
especially,  the  easy  way  in  which  Cymbeline 
receives  the  news  of  his  wife's  death  and  of  her  life-long 
treachery.  The  character  of  Cloten  is  not  quite  self-consistent  • 
in  the  earlier  scenes  he  is  a  mere  fool  (i.  3  &  11.  1  ) ;  but  in 
the  later  he  shews  some  manliness,  and  the  King  regrets  the 
loss  of  his  counsel  (iv.  3.  7-8).  Posthumus's  ready  credulity 
in  the  hands  of  Iachimo  seems  like  a  melodramatic  imitation 
of  Othello  and  Iago.  But  Imogen  makes  amends  for  all, 
especially  in  the  forest  scenes  with  her  disguised  brothers. 
Swinburne  calls  her  'the  woman  best  beloved  in  all  the  world 
of  song  and  all  the  tide  of  time' ;  S.  Lee  says  :  'On  Imogen, 
who  is  the  central  figure  of  the  play,  Shakespeare  lavished  all 
the  fascination  of  his  genius.  She  is  the  crown  and  flower 
of  his  conception  of  tender  and  artless  womanhood.' 

This  is  found  only  in  the  vision  of  Posthumus  and  in  the 
oracle  with    its    interpretation    (v.  a.  133-145  ; 

Supernatural  r  v  ~ 

element.  5,  443-452)  ;  neither  of  which  is  of    any  merit. 

The   former   indeed    is    about  as  worthless  as  the  witch-songs 
which  D'Avenant  foisted  into  Macbeth. 


THE  TEMPEST. 

This   play  (1610-1O  was  probably  suggested  by  Sir  George 
Somer's  shipwreck  on,  and  escape    from,    the 

Date  and  Period.        BermudaS)        <the        Isle        0f        Devils  ;  '        an 

account  of  this  was  published  Oct.  1610.  Many  of  Shakes- 
peare's incidents  are  identical  ;  and  he  speaks  of  'the  still- 
vexed  Bermoothes'  (Bermudas  ;  1.  2.  229).  The  play  was  not 
written  earlier  than  1603,  since  in  that  year  was  published 
Florio's  translation  of  Montaigne's  Essays,  from  which  Shakes- 
peare has  taken  Gonzalo's  ideal  republic  (11.  1.  147-56).  It  was 
acted  in  May,  161 3  to  grace  the  marriage  festivities  of  James  I's 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  181 

daughter  Elizabeth.  Dowden  points  out  that  the  whole 
tone  of  the  play — its  large,  serene  wisdom,  its  mellowed  and 
refined  imagination,  its  atmosphere  of  sunny  reconciliation, 
in  which  all  the  harsh  discords  of  life  are  happily  resolved, 
its  self-forgetful  sympathy  with  the  eager  joys  of  youth — all 
mark  it  as  one  of  the  closing  cycle  of  Shakespeare's  plays. 
This  is  confirmed  by  the  verse  tests — the  increased  proportion 
of  unstopped  lines,  of  weak  endings,  and  of   feminine    endings 

(P-  I32). 

Prospero,  twelve  years  previously  Duke  of  Milan,  had 
been  banished  by  his  usurping  brother 
Antonio,  with  the  help  of  Alonso,  king  of 
Naples,  and  set  adrift  in  a  boat  with  his  three-year  old  daughter, 
Miranda,  but  supplied  with  necessaries  and  with  his  magic 
books  by  a  kindly  Neapolitan,  Gonzalo.  They  had  landed  on 
a  desert  island  inhabited  by  a  monster,  Caliban,  and  an 
imprisoned  fairy,  Ariel,  both  of  whom  Prospero  held  in  his 
service.  By  his  magic  arts  he  causes  his  enemies  to  be 
shipwrecked  on  this  island.  Alonso's  son,  Ferdinand,  falls 
in  love  with  and  is  betrothed  to  Miranda.  Alonso's  brother 
Sebastian,  instigated  by  Antonio,  plots  to  kill  Alonso  and 
Gonzalo.  In  a  comic  underplot  Alonso's  drunken  butler 
Stephano  and  a  jester  Trinculo  conspire  with  Caliban  to 
murder  Prospero.  Both  plots  are  defeated  by  Ariel's  magic 
ministry,  and  all  the  culprits  are  brought  before  Prospero. 
Alonso  is  freely  forgiven,  and  Antonio  is  compelled  to  restore 
his  usurped  dukedom.  The  play  ends  with  their  return  to 
Naples  and  with  Ariel's  enfranchisement. 

There  is  no  extant  source  of  the  plot.  It  is,  in  the  main, 
identical  with  that  of  a  German  play,  Die 
schone  Sidea,  by  Jacob  Ayrer,  of  Niirnberg. 
An  English  company  was  on  tour  there  in  1604  and  1606  ;  so 
that  Shakespeare  perhaps  got  his  outline  from  them.  The 
name  'Setebos'  comes  from  Eden's  History  of  Travaile  (1577). 
The  names  Prospero  and  Stephano  both  occur  in  Ben  junson's 
Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  which  Shakespeare  recommended 
to  his  manager  and  in  which    he   acted   a   part   (1598).     It   is 


182  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

remarkable  that,  whereas  before  that  date  Shakespeare 
{Merchant  of  Venice)  wrongly  pronounced  'Stephano,'  afterwards 
{Tempest)  he  rightly  has  'Stephano.' 

The    chief    characters  are— Prospero,  much-enduring,  wise. 
and  benevolent ;  Miranda,  a    simple,    guileless 

Characters.  .  .       „       ,.  '  .  v  6 

girl;  Ferdinand,  a  frank,  ingenuous  youth; 
old  Gonzalo,  full  of  kindly  honesty  and  commonsense ; 
Alonso,  rather  weak  than  wicked,  and  capable  of  sincere 
repentance  ;  Antonio  and  Sebastian,  selfish,  worthless  plotters  ; 
Trinculo,  Stephano,  and  the  Boatswain,  representing  the  comedy 
of  low  life.  Ariel  is  a  dainty,  airy  spirit,  by  whose  agency 
Prospero  works  his  magical  but  benevolent  charms. 
Caliban  is  unique  in  Shakespeare's  dramas.  He  is  an 
'imaginary  portrait  conceived  with  matchless  vigour  and 
vividness,  of  the  aboriginal  savage  of  the  New  World, 
descriptions  of  whom  abounded  in  contemporary  travellers' 
speech  and  writings,  and  universally  excited  the  liveliest 
curiosity.'  (Lee).  The  germ-idea  of  Caliban  had  pre- 
existed in  Shakespeare's  mind  when  f'1603  ?)  he  wrote  in 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  'He's  grown  a  very  land-fish,  language- 
less,  a  monster'  (in.  3.  264).  But  there  is  a  metaphysical 
element  in  Caliban's  character  which  makes  him  a  genuine 
creation  of  Shakespeare's  genius  ;  he  is  infinitely  more  than  the 
New  World  savage  of  travellers' tales.  R.  Browning  (Caliban 
upon  Setebos1)  pictures  him  in  the  light  of  a  monster  who 
imagines  his  god  Setebos  to  be  after  his  own  likeness,  a  lazy 
spiteful  being,  created  by  a  superior  '  quiet,'  and  in  turn 
creating  this  world  to  satisfy  his  own  restlessness.  The 
sudden  advent  of  a  thunderstorm  ends  these  daring  speculations. 
The  supernatural  element  in  the  Tempest  is  essential  to  the 
Supernatural  action.     Caliban's  magically  enforced  servitude 

alone  enabled  Prospero  to  bring  up  Miranda 
as  a  refined  princess  ;  and  in  the  play  itself  hardly  one  scene 
would    be    effective  without  Prospero's  art  and  Ariel's  invisible 

1  A  deity  of  the  Patagonians,  mentioned  in  Eden's  History  of 
Travel— additional  evidence  that  Shakespeare  had  read  hooks  of 
American  discovery. 


SPECIAL   PLAYS.  183 

ministry.  Note  that,  throughout,  all  these  powers  are  subject 
to  Prospero's  will,  and  act  only  for  the  service  of  man.  In 
A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  the  supernatural  element  effects 
the  lovers  only,  besides  adding  one  scene  of  exquisite  comedy 
to  the  humours  of  Bottom.  Oberon's  arts  bring  about  a  half- 
humorous,  half-serious  tangle  among  the  less  important  per- 
sonages of  the  drama,  and  afterwards  happily  unravel  it ;  but 
Oberon  acts  thus  chiefly  for  his  own  purposes.  The  fairy  folk 
subserve  the  creation  of  a  world  of  ethereal  beauty  which  sets 
off  and  accentuates  the  real  world  of  heroic  success  and  lovers' 
trials  with  which  it  is  contrasted.  But  the  fairy-folk  are  either 
sportive,  or  ludicrously  mischievous  especially  Puck,  the  clown 
and  jester  of  fairyland.  In  Macbeth  the  supernatural  element 
affects  inward  motives  alone  ;  the  action  of  the  play  could  have 
dispensed  with  it  wholly,  provided  a  merely  treacherous  mur- 
derer had  been  substituted  for  the  hero.  But  then  the  subtle 
tragedy  of  Macbeth's  gradual  moral  degradation  and  final 
doom  would  have  inevitably  vanished.  In  Macbeth  the 
supernatural  is  a  secret  power  veiled  behind  the  visible  actions 
of  history,  a  power  unconquerable  by  man.  So  long  as 
Macbeth  follows  his  ghostly  counsellors,  he  is  triumphant 
against  all  the  odds  of  chance  ;  when  he  defies  them  and  acts 
on  his  own  initiative,  from  that  moment  he  staggers  blindly 
downwards  to  a  craftily  concealed  destruction.  This  play  is 
Shakespeare's  humanized  and  credible  version  of  the  mediaeval 
legend  so  forcefully  presented  in  Marlowe's  Faustus.  These 
supernatural  powers  are  as  inexorable  and  all-dominating  as 
the  Fate  (or  Destiny)  of  the  Greek  drama. 

Of   the    numerous    allegorical    interpretations    which   have 
been  given  to  this  play  the  best  is  that  suggfest- 

Allegory.  .  °° 

ed  by  Dowden.  Prospero  is  Shakespeare  ;  his 
island,  the  stage;  Miranda,  dramatic  art  in  its  infancy; 
Ferdinand,  the  youthful  Fletcher  to  whom  Shakespeare  was 
about  to  resign  his  functions  as  dramatist-manager.  Other 
interpretations  are  that  Caliban  represents — (i)  The  People  ; 
(2)  Understanding  apart  from  Imagination  ;  (3)  Primitive 
Man;    (4)  The    missing    link    between    Man    and    Brute;  (5) 


18-t  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

The  powers  of  nature  subjugated  by  the  scientific  intellect  ; 
(6)  The  Colony  of  Virginia  ;  (7)  The  untutored  early  drama 
of  Marlowe.  However  unwarrantable  these  fancies,  few  care- 
ful students  who  contrast  Ferdinand  with  Ariel  or  Caliban,  or 
compare  the  futile,  half-jesting  socialism  of  Gonzalo  or  the 
ridiculous  fiasco  of  Stephano  and  Trinculo  with  the  fixed, 
final  resolve  of  the  hero  of  the  play,  a  resolve  which  Shakes- 
peare himself  carried  out  in  act — few  such  students  will  deny 
that  the  unobtrusive  lesson  of  the  whole  play  is  this  :  The 
only  true  freedom  for  man  lies  in  willing,  self-forgetful  service. 


QUOTATIONS. 

She's  beautiful  and  therefore  to  be  woo'd  ; 

She  is  a  woman,  therefore  to  be  won.    1  Henry.   VI.  V.  3.  77-8. 

(Cf.   Tit.  Attdron.  1.  2.  82-83). 
Thrice  is  he  armed  that  hath  his  quarrel  just. 

2  Hen.  VI.  in.  2.  233. 
He  dies,  and  makes  no  sign.     lb.  ill.  3.  29. 
A  horse,  a  horse,  my  kingdom  for  a  horse.  Rich.  III.  v.  4.  7. 
The  heavenly  rhetoric  of  thine  eye.  L.  L.  L.  iv.  3.  60. 
Priscian  a  little  scratched  ;  'twill  serve.  lb  v.  1.  31. 
Thou  art  not  so  long  by  the  head  as  honorificabilituduiitatibus . 

lb.  v.  1.  44. 
\  jest's  prosperity  lies  the  ear 
Of  him  that  hears  it.  lb  V.  2.  871-2. 

When  daisies  pied  and  violets  blue  etc.  lb.  v.  2.  904-939. 
Home-keeping  youth  have  ever  homely  wits. 

Two  Gent,  of  Verona  1.  1.  2. 
How  use  doth  breed  a  habit  in  a  man.  lb.  v.  4.  1. 
r>ut  earthlier  happy  is  the  rose  distill'd 
Than  that  which  withering  on  the  virgin  thorn 
Grows,  lives,  and  dies  in  single  blessedness. 

Mid.  Night's  D.  I.  1.  76-8. 
The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth.   //;.  I.  I.  134. 
I  will  roar  you  as  gently  as  any  sucking  dove  ; 
I  will  roar  you  an  'twere  any  nightingale.  lb.  1.  2.  84-6. 


QUOTATIONS. 


185 


In  maiden  meditation,  fancy-free.  lb.  II.  I.  164. 

I'll  put  a  girdle  round  about  the  earth 

In  forty  minutes.  lb.  II.  1.  175-6. 

A  lion  among  ladies.  lb.  in.  1.  31. 

Bless  thee,  Bottom,  bless  thee  !  thou  art  translated. 

lb.  ill.  1.  121. 
The  lunatic,  the  lover  and  the  poet 
Are  of  imagination  all  compact.  lb.  V.  1.  7-8. 
Gives  to  airy  nothing 

A  local  habitation  and  a  name.  lb.  V.  1.  16-7. 
He  jests  at  scars  that  never  felt  a  wound.     Rom.  &  Jul.  II.  2.  1. 
What's  in  a  name  ?  that  which  we  call  a  rose 
By  any  other  name  would  smell  as  sweet.   lb.  II.  2.  43-4. 
A  plague  o'  both  your  houses  !   lb.  Ill,  1.   III. 
Night's  candles  are  burnt  out,  and  jocund  day 
Stands  tiptoe  on  the  misty  mountain  tops.  lb.  III.  5.  9-10. 
My  bosom's  lord  sits  lightly  in  his  throne.  lb.  V.  1.  3. 
A  beggarly  account  of  empty  boxes.  lb.  V.  1.  45. 
My  poverty,  but  not  my  will,  consents  lb.  V.  1.  75. 
All  places  that  the  eye  of  heaven  visits 
Are  to  a  wise  man  ports  and  happy  havens. 

Rich.  II.  1.  3.  275-6. 
And  hang  a  calf's  skin  on  those  recreant  limbs. 

King  John.  ill.  1.  129. 
Life  is  as  tedious  as  a  twice-told  tale 
Vexing  the  dull  ear  of  a  drowsy  man.    lb-  ill.  4.  108-9. 
How  oft  the  sight  of   means  to  do  ill  deeds 
Makes  deeds  ill  done  !  lb.  iv.  2.  219-20. 
'Convey'  the  wise  it  call.     'Steal  !'  foh  ;  a  fico  for  the  phrase  ! 

Merry  Wives.  I.  3.  32, 
Why,  then  the  world's  mine  oyster. 
Which  I  with  sword  will  open.  lb.  II.  2.  2-t,. 
I  am  Sir  Oracle, 

And,  when  I  ope  my  lips,  let  no  dog  bark.     M.  of  V.  I.  1.  93-4. 
For  sufferance  is  the  badge  of  all  our  tribe.  lb.  I.  3.  m. 
It  is  a  wise  father  that  knows  his  own  child.  II.  2.  80-1. 
The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained  etc.  lb.  IV.  1.  184-197. 
A  Daniel  come  to  judgment  lb.  iv.  1.  223. 
The  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself  etc.  lb.  V.  1.   S3-88. 
How  far  that  little  candle  sheds  its  beams  !  etc,  V.  r.  90-91. 
If  reasons  were  as  plentiful  as   blackberries,     I    would   give   no 


186  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

man  a  reason  upon  compulsion.     /.  He?t.  IV.  II.  4.  264-5. 

O  monstrous  '.  but  one  half-pennyworth  of  bread  to  this 

intolerable  deal  of  sack  !   lb.  11.  4.  591-2. 

Shall  I  not  take  mine  ease  in  mine  inn  ?  lb.  III.  3.  93. 

The  better  part  of  valour  is  discretion.  lb.  v.  4.  121. 

Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears  a  crown.     2  Hen.  IV.  III.  1.  31. 

We  have  heard  the  chimes  at  midnight.  lb.  in.  2.  22S. 

Thy  wish  was  father,  Harry,  to  that  thought.  lb.  IV.  5.  93. 

Consideration,  like  an  angel,  came 

And  whipped  th'  offending  Adam  out  of  him.  He?i.   V.  I.  1.  28-9. 

His  nose  was  as  sharp  as  a  pen,  and  a'  babbled  of  green  fields. 

lb.  II.  3.  17-8. 
Once  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends,  once  more  etc. 

lb.  III.  1.  1-34- 
From  camp  to  camp  through  the  foul  womb  of  night  etc. 

Prologue  IV.  4-47. 
There  is  a  river  in  Macedon...and  there  is  salmons  in  both. 

IV.  7.  27-33. 
Sigh  no  more,  ladies,  etc.  Much  Ado  II.  3.  64-76. 
The  idea  of  her  life  shall  sweetly  creep  etc.  lb.  IV.  1.  226-232. 
For  there  was  never  yet  philosopher 

That  could  endure  the  toothache  patiently,  lb.  V.  1.  35-6. 
Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity,  etc. 

As  You  Like  It.   11.  1.  12-17. 
All  the  world's  a  stage,  etc.  lb.  11.  7.  139-166. 
Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind  etc.  lb.  II.  7.  174-190. 
It  was  a  lover  and  his  lass,  etc.  lb.  v.  3.  17-34. 
Your  If  is  the  only  peacemaker.  lb.  v.  4.  10S. 
O  mistress  mine,  etc.      Twelfth  Night  11.  3.  40-53. 
She  never  told  her  love,  etc.  lb.  'I.  4.  1  13-1  18. 
Some  are  born  great,    some   achieve  greatness,  and    some  have 
greatness  thrust  upon  them.  //;.  11.  5.  157-8. 
Thus  the  whirligig  of  Time  brings  in  his  revenges. 

lb.  V.  1.  385. 
Lowliness  is  young  ambition's  ladder  etc. 

Julius  Ccesar.  11.   1.  22-34. 
When  beggars  die,  there  are  no  comets  seen.  lb.  11.  2.  30. 
Friends,  Romans,  countrymen,  lend  me  your  ears,  etc. 

lb.  III.  2.  78-234. 
There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men,  etc.  lb.  IV.  3.  218-224. 
This  was  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all,  etc.  lb.  v.  5.  68-75. 


QUOTATIONS.  187 

0  that  this  too,  too  solid  flesh  would  melt,  etc. 

Hamlet.  I.  2.  129-159. 
These  few  precepts  in  thy  memory,  etc.  lb.  I.  3.  58-80. 
More  honoured  in  the  breach  than  the  observance. 

lb.  I.  4.  15-6. 
There  are  more  things  in  Heaven  and  earth,  Horatio, 
Than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy.  lb.  I.  5.  166-7. 
Brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit.  lb.  II.  2.  90. 
What  a  piece  of  work  is  man  !  etc.  lb.  II.  2.  215-20. 
To  be  or  not  to  be,  that  is  the  question  etc.  lb.  ill.  1.  56-88. 
It  out-herods  Herod.    lb.  III.  2.  15. 
We  must  speak  by  the  card,  or  equivocation  will  undo  us. 

lb.  V.  1.  149. 
From  her  fair  and  unpolluted  flesh 
May  violets  spring  !   lb.  V.  1.  262-3. 
There's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough-hew  them  how  we  will.  lb.  V.  2.  10-11. 
That  I  should  love  a  bright  particular  star. 

Alls  Well.  I.  1.  97. 
He  must  needs  go  that  the  Devil  drives.  lb.  1.  3.  31. 
A  young  man  married  is  a  man  that's  marred.   //;.  11.  3,  315. 
One  touch  of  nature  makes  the  whole  world  kin.. 

Tro.  and  Cress.  III.  3.  175. 
Spirits  are  not  finely  touched  But  to  fine  issues  etc. 

Meas.  for  Meas.  1.  1.  36-41. 
O,  it  is  excellent 
To  have  a  giant's  strength  :    but  it  is  tyrannous 
To  use  it  like  a  giant.  lb.  II.  2.  107-9. 

Man,  proud  man, 
Drest  in  a  little  brief  authority  etc.  lb.  II.  2.  1 17-122. 
That  in  the  Captain's  but  a  choleric  word. 
Which  in  the  soldier  is  flat  blasphemy,   lb.  II.  2.  130-1 
The  poor  beetle  that  we  tread  upon  etc.  III.  1.  79-81. 
Ay,  but  to  die  and  go  we  know  not  where  etc.    lb.  III.  I.  118-32. 
But  I  will  wear  my  heart  upon  sleeve 
For  daws  to  peck  at.  Othello  1.  I.  64-5. 
Still  questioned  me  The  story  of  my  life,  etc.  lb.  I.  3.  129-168. 

1  am  nothing  if  not  critical.  lb.  II.  120. 

To  suckle  fools  and  chronicle  small  beer.  lb.  II.  1.  161. 
O  that  men  should  put  an    enemy  in  their  mouths  to  steal  away 
their  brains.  lb.  II.  3.  291-2. 


188  a   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Good  name  in  man  or  woman,  dear  my  lord,  etc. 

lb.  III.  3.   155-161 
It  (jealousy)  is  the  green-eyed  monster.  lb.  III.  3.  166. 
Farewell,  Othello's  occupation's  gone.  lb.  ill.  3.  357. 
One  that  loved  not  wisely,  but  too  well,  etc.  lb.  v.  2.  344-356. 
How  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is 
To  have  a  thankless  child.  Lear  1.  4.  310-1. 
A  man  more  sinned  against  than  sinning.  lb.  in.  2.  59-60. 
O,  that  way  madness  lies.  //;.  in   4.  21. 

How  fearful 
And  dizzy  'tis  to  cast  one's  eyes  so  low,  etc.  lb.  IV.  6.  11-22. 
The  gods  are  just,  and  of  our  pleasant  vices 
Make  instruments  to  plague  us.  lb.  v.  3.  170-1. 

This  even-handed  justice 
Commends  the  ingredients  of  our  poisoned  chalice 
To  our  own  lips.  Macbeth  I.  7.  10-12. 
I  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man  ; 
Who  dares  do  more  is  none.  lb.  I.  7.  46-7. 
Is  this  a  dagger  which  I  see  before  me  etc.  lb.  n.  1.  33-60. 
'Macbeth  does  murder  sleep,'  the  innocent  sleep,  etc. 

lb.  11.  2.  36-43. 
The  labour  we  delight  in  physics  pain.   //;.  n.  3.  54. 
After  life's  fitful  fever  he  sleeps  well,  etc.  lb.  in.  2.  23-26. 
But  now  I  am  cabin'd,  cribb'd,  confined.  lb.  in.  4.  24. 
Give  sorrow  words,  the  grief  that  does  not  speak 
Whispers  the  o'er-fraught  heart,  and  bids  it  break. 

lb.  iv.  3.  209-210. 
Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a  mind  diseased  ?  etc.  lb.  v.  3.  40-47. 
To-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  etc.  lb.  v.  5.  19-21. 
My  salad  days,  when  I  was  green  in  judgment. 

Ant.  and  Cleo.  I.  5.  73-4. 
Age  cannot  wither  her,  nor  custom  stale 
Her  infinite  variety.  lb.  n.  ?.  240-1. 
Hark,  hark  !   the  lark  at  Heaven's  gate  sings,  etc. 

Cymbeline  II.  3.  21  30. 
Weariness  can  snore  upon  the  flint.  lb.  m.  6.  34. 
Fear  no  more  the  heat  o'  the  sun  etc  lb.  IV.  2.  258  281. 
When  daffodils  begin  to  peer  etc. 

Winter's  Tale  IV.  3.  1-22;  132-5. 
Daffodils  that  come  before  the  swallow  dares,  etc. 

lb.  iv.  4.  1 18-127. 


QUOTATIONS. 


189 


Made  such  a  sinner  of  his  memory, 

To  credit  his  own  lie.  Tempest  I.  2.  101-2. 

Come  unto  these  yellow  sands,  etc.  lb.  I.  2.  376-386  ;  396-404. 

A  very  ancient  and  fish-like  smell,  lb.  II.  2,  27. 

Like  the  baseless  fabric  of  this  vision  etc.  lb.  iv.  1.  151-158. 

Where  the  bee  sucks,  etc.  lb.  v.  1.  88-94. 

Crabbed  age  and  youth 

Cannot  live  together.      Pass.  PH.,  1 57- 

When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought 

I  summon  up  remembrance  of  things  past.  Sonnets  XXX.  1-2, 

And  art  made  tongue-tied  by  authority, 

And  sim  pie  truth  miscalled  simplicity, 

And  captive  good  attending  captain  ill.  lb.  lxvi.  9  ;  11,  12. 

My  nature  is  subdued 
To  what  it  works  in,  like  the  dyer's  hand.  lb.  CXI.  6-7. 
Let  me  not  to  the  marriage  of  true  minds 
Admit  impediments.     Love  is  not  love 
Which  alters  when  it  alteration  finds.  lb-  CXVI.  1-3. 


BACON  (1561-1626). 

Francis  Bacon,  afterwards  created  Lord  Verulam,  and  subse- 
quently Viscount  St.  Albans,  was  the  youngest 
Bitrain,nng.h°me      son>    by    a    second    marriage,    of     the     Lord 
Keeper,    Sir    Nicholas    Bacon,    one  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's    favourite    ministers.     His    mother  was  a  woman  of 
unusual  ability,  of  strong  character,  and   a   decided    Protestant. 
Her    elder    sister    had    married    the     great     statesman,     Lord 
Burghley,    who    was    thus    Bacon's    uncle.     There  were  in  the 
family  eight  children  in  all,  six  by  the  first  wife,  and  two  by  the 
second,  Francis  and  his  brother  Anthony,    who    was    the    elder 
by  two    years.     The    mother's    influence    seems    to    have  been 
paramount    during    his    boyhood  ;    indeed    she    continued    her 
supervision  of    his    health    and    household    management    even 
after  he  had  entered  upon  public  life. 

The  two  brothers,  Anthony  and    Francis,    were    entered    at 
Trinity  College,    Cambridge,    in    April     1*72, 

At  Cambridge.  ,  y_  °  &    '  v  -"j' 

when  rrancis  was  but  twelve  years  old. 
Queen  Elizabeth  took  much  notice  of  him,  and  used  playfully 
to  call  him  her  'young  Lord  Keeper.'  Once  when  she  asked 
him  haw  old  he  was,  with  the  instinct  of  a  born  courtier  he 
promptly  replied,  'Two  years  younger  than  your  Majesty's 
happy  reign.'  The  most  permanent  result  of  his  life  at 
Cambridge  was  a  rooted  aversion  to  the  barren  disputations  of 
the  Aristotelian  philosophy  then  in  vogue  in  all  seats  of 
learning,  and  a  fixed  resolve  to  replace  it  by  something  better. 
He  left  Cambridge  with  his  brother  at  Christmas  1575,  and 
the  two  began  to  study  law  at    Gray's    Inn,    in 

In  Paris.  J 

London,  in  the  summer  of  1576.  In  the 
following  year  Francis  was  sent  to  join  the  English  Embassy 
in  Paris,  under  Sir  Amyas  Paulet.  But  his  father's  death  in 
February  1579,  before  any  provision  had  been  made  for  his 
youngest  son,  compelled  Bacon  to  return  home  and  take 
seriously  to  the  law  as  a  profession. 


BACON. 


191 


Bacon  had  formed  the  rudimentary  idea  of  his    philosophic 

system    when    at   Cambridge,    and    his    mind 

Takes  up  Law         was  now  fuii    Gf  what   to    him   was   a   sacred 

and  Politics.  ,,,,,.  ,r  u     j 

ambition.  He  felt  himself  called  to  a  great 
world-revolutionizing  life-work,  just  as,  in  their  own  spheres, 
did  Milton  and  Wordsworth.  But  to  prepare  himself  for  that 
great  work  he  must  needs  have  a  competence.  Naturally  there- 
fore he  turned  to  his  uncle,  the  Lord  High  Treasurer.  Lord 
Burghley  however,  jealous  of  his  nephew's  great  abilities,  and 
fearing  they  might  interfere  with  his  son  Robert's  success, 
left  him  to  make  his  fortune  for  himself.  Bacon  accordingly 
threw  all  his  energies  into  the  pursuit  of  the  law  and  of 
political  success  in  Parliament.  He  was  called  to  the  bar  in 
1582,  and  became  a  bencher  of  Gray's  Inn  in  1586.  In  1584 
he  was  member  of  Parliament  for  Melcombe  Regis;  in  1586 
for  Taunton,  and  in  1593  for  Middlesex. 

Disappointed  in  his  expectaions  from  Lord  Burghley,   Bacon 

resolved  to  advance  his  interests    through    the 

The  Eari  of  Oueen's  favourite,  the  Earl  of  Essex.  He  seems 

Essex. 

to  have  really  liked  and    admired    his    patron, 
and  he  certainly  was  most  lavish  of  adulation  and  professions  of 
esteem   to   the  Earl    and    his    partisans.      Essex   on    his   part 
worked  hard  with  the  Queen  to    secure    Bacon's   advancement. 
He   tried,    but   in   vain,    to    obtain    for   him    the    appointment 
successively   of  Attorney   General,   of   Solicitor    General,    and 
of  the  Master   of  the    Rolls.     After    failing    to    secure    him    a 
rich  wife,  the  widow  of  Sir  Christopher    Hatton,   Essex   finally 
presented  him  with  a  landed  estate,    which    Bacon    turned    into 
money.     Bacon  in  return  gave  his   patron   advice    of  the    most 
worldly  kind  as    to   the    best    ways    of   winning    the    Queen's 
favour,  and  warned    him    against    those   faults    of  temper    and 
policy  which  afterwards    brought    about    his    ruin.     When    the 
Earl  was  tried  in  June  1600  for  his  ill  success    in    putting  down 
the  Irish  rebellion,  Bacon    took   a    subordinate   part   with    the 
counsel  for  the   prosecution,    in    order,   as   he    said,    to   take 
advantage  of  any   opportunity    of    helping    his    patron's    cause. 
But  when  in  1601,  Essex  was  tried  for   high   treason    after    his 


192  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

abortive  attempt  at  rebellion,  Bacon  openly  used  all  his  personal 
knowledge  of  the  Earl's  affairs  and  his  skill  as  a  lawyer  to 
secure  a  condemnation.  He  had  repeatedly  warned  his 
patron  ;  and  now  he  easily  persuaded  himself  that  private 
friendship  ought  not  to  stand  in  the  way  of  public  duty.  He 
received  as  his  reward  ^"1200  out  of  one  of  the  fines  levied  on 
those  implicated  in  the  rebellion.  This  was  the  tragedy  of 
Bacon's  life  from  beginning  to  end — he  had  to  act  a  double 
part.  To  gain  a  secure  competence  which  might  enable  him 
to  devote  all  his  energies  to  the  great  work  of  the  world's 
intellectual  salvation,  which  he  alone  of  men  could  accomplish, 
that  was  an  imperious  necessity.  With  that  object  before 
him,  he  humbled  himself  to  the  dust,  and  employed  his  vast 
intellectual  powers  in  every  detail  of  the  trade  of  a  time-server 
and  a  sycophant. 

But  he  never  forgot  his  divinely  appointed  mission.     When 
he    was   twenty-five  years    old  (1586)  he  had 
published  a  philosophical  essay,  which   in   the 
fervour  of    youthful  enthusiasm  he  entitled  The  Greatest  Birth 
of  Time.     In  his  application  to  his  uncle  he  says  'I  have  taken 
all  knowledge  to  be  my  province,'  and  it  is  clear  that  this    was 
no   empty  boast.  .  He  worked  hard  all  this  time  at  collecting  a 
treasury    of    literary    lore   in    the    shape    of    proverbs,     quaint 
maxims,   curious   and    telling    phrases,    which    might    furnish 
him  both  for  speech  or  for  writing.     In  1597    he    brought    out 
the  first  edition  of  a  book  which  perhaps   beyond  all  others  has 
laid  a  sure  foundation  for  his    literary,    as    distinguished    from 
his  philosophical    reputation.     This    was    his    Essays,   ten    in 
number.     A    second  edition  containing  thirty-eight  essays,  was 
published  in  161 2,  and  a  third,  considerably  enlarged    and    re- 
vised,   in    1625.     It   must  be  remembered  that  Bacon  uses  the 
word  essay  in  its  etymological  sense  of    an    experimental    trial. 
The    matters  of   which  he  writes  are  brought,  as  it  were,  to  the 
test,  and  their  constituents  exactly  ascertained  and  determined. 
The  style  of  these  brief  essays  as  H.  Morley  remarks,  in  which 
every    sentence    was   compact  with  thought  and  polished  in  ex- 
pression until  it  might  run  alone  through  the  world  as  a  maxim.. 


BACON.  193 

had  all  the  strength  of  euphuism  and  none  of  its  weakness. 
The  sentences  were  all  such  as  it  needed  ingenuity  to  write  ; 
but  this  was  the  rare  ingenuity  of  wisdom.  Each  essay, 
shrewdly  discriminative,  contained  a  succession  of  wise 
thoughts  exactly  worded.' 

Bacon  remained  without  promotion  during  the  rest  of 
under  James  i.  Queen  Elizabeth's  reign,  nor  was  he  more 
successful  during  the  early  part  of  the  reign 
of  James  I.  He  was  however  knighted,  and  was  made  a  com- 
missioner for  the  union  of  Scotland  and  England.  In  spite  of 
all  the  good  work  he  did  in  the  difficult  questions  arising  out 
of  the  union,  Bacon's  claims  for  preferment  were  continually 
passed  over.  Not  till  June  1607  did  he  receive  the  appoint- 
ment of  Solicitor  General.  In  1606  he  married  an  alderman's 
daughter  with  a  fortune.     He  had  no  children. 

In  1605  Bacon  published  his  first  matured  work  in  English 
,_.     .  .  prose,    The  Advancement  of   Learning,    which 

'The  Advance-  r  >  J  t>  > 

ment  of  Learn-        forms    the     groundwork    of    his     lnstauratio 

mg.'  ° 

Magna  or  'Great  Reconstruction  of  Science.' 
The  Advancement  was  dedicated  to  King  James,  who  however 
took  little  notice  of  it.  In  sending  a  copy  to  his  friend  Sir 
T.  Bodley,  he  frankly  confesses  that  he  had  been  false  to  his 
own  mission  ;  he  had  allowed  worldly  business  to  take  up  the 
energies  that  ought  to  have  been  consecrated  to  the  investiga- 
tion of  truth,  though  he  was  never  really  at  home  among  his 
worldly  ambitions;  but  now  he  has  in  this  book  returned  to  his 
true  self.  This  sense  of  dwelling  under  compulsion  in  a 
world  alien  to  his  own  spirit  Bacon  in  this  letter,  and  repeatedly 
afterwards,  sums  up  in  the  Latin  words  of  verse  5  of  the  120th 
Psalm,  Malt  urn  incola  fait  anima  mea,  'My  soul  hath  long 
dwelt  among  them  that  are  enemies  unto  peace.' 

In   the  year  1608  the  Clerkship  of  the  Star  Chamber  at  last 
became   vacant,    and  Bacon  obtained  the  post 

His  promotions.  r 

that  had  been  promised  him  twenty  years 
previously.  In  1613  Coke  was  promoted  to  the  Chief-Justice- 
ship and  Bacon  became  Attorney  General.  When  the  King's 
favourite,  Villiers,  became  the  all-powerful   Duke  of    Bucking- 

13 


194  A   HANDBOOK  OF  ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

ham,  Bacon  paid  court  to  him  with  the  utmost  servility  ;  and 
in  a  dispute  which  occurred  between  the  Common  Law  Courts 
and  the  Chancery,  he  used  his  influence  with  the  King  and  his 
subtlety  as  a  lawyer  to  bring  about  the  degradation  and  dismis- 
sal from  office  of  his  old  rival  Coke  (1616).  In  the  same  year 
Bacon  became  a  Privy  Councillor,  and  in  March  16 17  through 
Buckingham's  good  offices  he  was  appointed  Lord  Keeper. 
In  161 S  he  became  Lord  Chancellor  and  was  raised  to  the 
peerage  as  Lord  Verulam,  a  title  taken  from  Verulamium,  the 
Latin  name  of  St.  Albans,  near  which  lay  Bacon's  estate  of 
Gorhambury.  In  162 1  he  was  created  Viscount  St.  Albans. 
In  his  appointment  of  Lord  Chancellor  he  worked  with  un- 
exampled assiduity,  and  does  not  appear  to  have  seriously 
misused  his  judicial  powers.  But  he  allowed  himself  to  be 
influenced  by  Buckingham  in  cases  that  came  before  his  court ;. 
and  he  fell  in  with  the  usual  custom  of  receiving  presents  from 
suitors.  Probably  nothing  would  ever  have  been  heard  of  this 
but  for  the  fact  that  he  had  all  along,  from  the  prosecution  of 
Essex  to  the  degradation  of  Coke,  made  a  number  of  bitter 
personal  enemies. 

The  House  of  Commons,  led  by  Coke,  first  attempted  to 
His  fail  -  death  ca"  Bacon  to  account  for  having  pronounced 
in  favour  of  the  legality  of  numerous  monopo- 
lies by  which  Buckingham  had  enriched  his  followers.  But 
the  King  interfered  and  refused  to  sanction  the  enquiry.  They 
next  accused  him  of  having  received  bribes,  and  sent  up  a 
statement  to  the  Lords  for  their  judicial  decision.  Bacon  at- 
tempted no  defence,  but  threw  himself  on  the  mercy  of  his 
peers.  He  was  sentenced,  April  1 621,  to  a  fine  of  ^"40,000,  to 
imprisonment  during  the  king's  pleasure,  and  to  banishment 
from  Parliament  and  the  Court.  The  next  month  he  was  re- 
leased from  the  Tower,  and  retired  to  his  family  estate.  In 
September  he  received  a  pardon  from  the  king,  but  in  spite 
of  all  his  efforts  to  obtain  employment  or  favour  at  Court 
he  was  left  unnoticed.  In  travelling  near  London  he  caught 
a  cold  and  a  fever,  and  died  April  9,  1626.  He  was  buried  in 
St.  Michael's  Church,  St.  Albans. 


BACON.  195 

In  1608   Bacon  occupied  himself  in  writing  a  most  intimate 
His  diar  private  diary  with  rules   for    his    own    conduct 

under  all  conceivable  emergencies.  It  is  in- 
teresting as  showing  that  one  of  his  ambitions  was  to  make 
England  '  the  great  monarchy  of  the  West,'  which  Spain  had 
falsely  pretended  to  be.  This  ambition  was  foiled  by  James's 
petulant  perversity.  Had  he  given  Bacon  his  unreserved  con- 
fidence, England  would  no  doubt  have  soon  attained  the 
position  in  Europe  which  she  did  afterwards  attain  under 
Cromwell,  and  that  too  by  strictly  constitutional  methods. 

Even    while  engaged  in  professional  business,  Bacon  found 

time    for    thinking  out  and  writing  preliminary 

Organum.'  sketches  of  his  new    philosophy.     In  1607    he 

sent  to  Sir  Thomas  Bodley  his  Visa  et  Cogitata, 

a    first    draft   of  the  later  Novum  Organum.     This    great  work, 

which  he  had    been    elaborating    for    thirty    years,    and    which 

formed    the    second  and  most  important  part  of  his  Instauratio 

Magna,  was  brought  out  in  1620.     After  his  fall,  he   published 

in  1622  the  third  part,  written  in  Latin.      He  published  also  the 

History    of  the    Reign    of   Henry    VII.     In  1623  appeared  in 

Latin  his  His/or y  of  Life  and    Death,    and    in    1627    his    New 

Atlantis,  embodying  his  dreams  of  a  philosophical  millennium. 

Some     general    idea    of    Bacon's    philosophical    system    is 

needed  on  account  of  the  references  to  it  which 

His  philosophy. 

we  continually  meet  with  in  later  authors ; 
and  indeed  some  of  his  special  ideas,  clothed  in  pregnant 
metaphors,  have  become  part  of  the  literature  of  thought. 
Bacon  arranged  his  Instauratio  Magna  in  six  sections  :  —  (1)  A 
survey  of  then  existing  knowledge  ;  to  this  belongs  his  De 
Augmentis,  the  Latin  enlargement  of  his  Advancement  of 
Learning.  (2)  The  Novum  Organum,  or  '  New  Instrument  ' 
of  Philosophy,  which  is  an  exposition  of  the  Inductive  Method, 
the  method  of  ascertaining  general  truths  in  nature  by  system- 
atized observation  and  experiment,  as  contrasted  with  Aristotle's 
Deductive  Method.  All  our  modern  sciences,  and  especially 
Astronomy,  have  grown  up  from  the  patient  and  persevering 
application  of  the  Inductive  method.     Bacon  of  course  did  not 


196  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

invent  this  method  ;  but  he  first  popularised  it  among  thinking 
people,  and  thus  paved  the  way  for  the  victorious  progress  of 
modern  Science.  (3)  The  Experimental  History  of  Nature.  In 
this  division  Bacon's  most  complete  work  was  the.  Sylva 
sylvarum.  His  History  of  Life  and  Deiih  is  a  part  of  this 
section.  (4)  The  Scala  Intellecius  or  'Ladder  of  Understand- 
ing,' which  leads  up  from  experience  to  science.  A  preface  is 
all  that  Bacon  has  written  of  this  section.  (5)  The  Prodromi 
or  'Anticipations  of  the  new  philosophy.'  In  this  were  to  be 
collected  such  truths  as  had  been  obtained  without  the  aid  of 
the  Baconian  method,  which  were  now  to  be  tested  by  it.  This 
section  also  is  only  represented  by  a  preface.  (6)  Philosophia 
Secufida  or  'Active  Science,'  the  result  of  the  application  of  the 
new  method  to  all  the  phenomena  of  the  Universe.  Bacon  himself 
speaks  of  this  section  as  being  beyond  his  strength  and  hope. 
The  keynote  to  Bacon's  whole  philosophy  is  that  in  the 
kingdom  of  Nature    we    are    to    become    little 

Its  keynote.  & 

children.  Whatever  facts  we  find  we  must 
accept,  and  remodel  our  theories  to  fit  the  facts,  instead  of 
ignoring  or  overlooking  them.  And,  as  children,  we  are  to  keep 
ourselves  from  'idols,'  i.e.,  those  false  notions  by  which  hitherto 
men's  minds  have  been  so  obsessed  as  to  make  the  attainment 
of  truth  impossible.     He  classifies  these  idols  into  four  sets  : — 

(1)  Idols    of  the   Market-place,  when  we  take  things  to  be,  not 
what  they  are,  but  what  common  talk  makes  them    out    to    be  ; 

(2)  Idoh  of  the  Theatre,  when  we  bow  down  to  authority,  and 
accept  that  as  true  which  is  affirmed  by  the  great  actors  who 
are  prominent  on  the  human  stage  ;  (3)  Idols  of  the  Race  or 
Tribe,  which  are  inherent  in  humanity  generally,  as  for  example 
the  prejudice  that  opens  men's  minds  to  instances  favourable 
to  their  own  opinion  and  closes  them  to  all  opposing  facts; 
(4)  Idols  of  the  Cave,  those  individual  prejudices  which  distort 
the  facts  of  the  universe,  so  that  we  are  like  men  shut  up  in  a 
cave  who  mistake  the  shadows  thrown  upon  its  walls  by  their 
own  littlr  fire  for  the  realities  which  they  should  see  in  the 
clear  sunlight  of  truth.  Cowley  in  some  well-known  lines  {Ode 
to  the  Royal  Society)  said  of  Bacon  that  he  was  like  Moses  who 


BACON.  197 

led    the    people  of  God  to  the  Promised  Land,  and  saw  it   afar 

off  from  the  top  of  Mount  Pisgah,  though  he    did    not   himself 

enter  it.     That  simile  very  aptly  expresses  the  relation  in  which 

Bacon  stands  to  the  vast  empire    of    modern    science    and   the 

mechanical  triumphs  of  modern  civilization. 

The    personal    character    of    Lord   Bacon  (as  he  is  always, 

though  incorrectly  called)  is  one  of  the  stand- 
Bacon's  charac-        .  .  ,     ,  .  _         ,  ,,  , 

ter  ;  (i)  As  a  mg   enigmas    of    history.     Pope  s  well-known 

couplet  has  perhaps  rather  less  truth  than  most 
epigrams  : 

•  If  parts  allure  thee,  think  how  Bacon  shined1, 
The  wisest,  brightest,  meanest  of  mankind.' 
But  Pope  had  not  the  materials  to  frame  a  just  verdict  upon 
Bacon's  highly  complex  character.  Even  at  the  present  day, 
it  is  hard  to  weigh  him  truly  in  the  balances.  His  whole 
nature  was  apparently  devoid  of  any  strong  enthusiasms 
or  emotions,  save  only  his  all-absorbing  passion  for  the  inau- 
guration of  a  true  philosophy.  Of  a  kindly  disposition,  he 
never  seems  to  have  been  in  love,  for  his  marriage  was  mainly 
prudential  ;  nor  had  he  any  love  for  dogs  or  horses  or  pets 
of  any  kind.  He  describes  in  one  of  his  Essays  (xni)  as  an 
amusing  incident  the  torture  of  a  long-billed  fowl  by  a 
waggish  Christian,  and  he  quite  approved  of  the  vivisection  of 
animals  for  scientific  purposes.  Probably  E.  A.  Abbott  comes 
nearest  to  the  truth  when  he  says  of  the  greatest  blot  on 
Bacon's  life,  his  betrayal  of  Essex  :  '  It  was  a  sin,  but  not  a 
sin  of  weakness,  or  pusillanimity,  or  inconsistency  :  it  was 
of  a  piece  with  his  whole  nature,  not  to  be  justified,  nor 
excused  nor  extenuated,  but  to  be  stored  up  by  posterity 
as  an  eternal  admonition. ..how  morally  dangerous  it  is 
to  be  so  imbued  and  penetrated  with  the  notion  that  one 
is  born  for  the  service  of  mankind  as  to  be  rendered 
absolutely  blind  to  all  the  claims  of  commonplace  morality/ 
Perhaps   the    most  marked  characteristic  of  Bacon's  style  is 

it  'ts  condensation  of  thought,  especially    in    his 

Essays.     'He  is,'  remarks  Saintsbury,  'stimulat- 
1  Essay  on  Man,  Ep.  IV.  281-2. 


198  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

ing   beyond    the    recorded    power   of   any   other   man    except 
Socrates  :  he  is  inexhaustible  in  analogy    and    illustration,    full 
of   wise    saws,    and    of    instances    as    well    ancient  as  modern. 
But   he    is  by  no    means    an    accurate   expositor,    still    less   a 
powerful  reasoner,  and  his  style  is  exactly  suited  to  his   mental 
gifts,    now    luminously    fluent,   now  pregnantly  brief ;  here  just 
obscure  enough  to  kindle    the  reader's    desire    of   penetrating 
the    obscurity,    there   flashing    with    ornament    which    perhaps 
serves  to  conceal  a  flaw  in  the  reasoning,   but    which    certainly 
serves  to  allure  and  retain  the   attention  of  the  student.'     Taine 
brings   out   another   aspect    of    his    literary    power :    'Francis 
Bacon,  a  great  and  luminous    intellect,    like    his    predecessors, 
was  naturally  disposed  to  clothe  his    ideas  in  the  most  splendid 
dress.     But  what  distinguishes    him    from    the    others    is    that 
with  him  an  image  only  serves  to  concentrate    meditation.     He 
reflected  long,  stamped  on  his  mind  all  the  parts  and    relations 
of   his    subject ;  he  is  master  of  it,  and  then,  instead  of  expos- 
ing this  complete  idea  in  a  graduated   chain    of   reasoning,    he 
embodies    it  in  a  comparison    so    expressive,  exact,  lucid,  that 
behind  the  figure  we  perceive  all  the  details    of   the    idea,    like 
liquor   in  a  fine   crystal  vase.'     In  one    respect    Bacon  was  like 
Milton.     He  wrote  in  Latin  as  easily  as  in  English,  and  indeed 
he    would    by   preference    have    written    exclusively    in   Latin, 
regarding   it  as  the  only  sure    passport    to    immortality.     As  it 
is,  his  Latin  works  now  are  read   only    by   scholars,    while   the 
Essays   and    the  Advancement   of  Learning  will  always  be  part 
of  an  English  liberal  education. 


QUOTATIONS. 

Words,  as  a  Tartar's  bow,  do  shoot  back  upon  the  understand- 
ing of  the  wisest,  and  mightily  entangle  and  pervert  the  judgment. 
Advancement  of  Learning,  Book  2. 

It  is  in  life,  as  it  is  in  ways,  the  shortest   way   is   commonly  the 


BACON.  199 

foulest,  and  surely  the  fairer  way  is  not  much  about.  lb. 

A  dry  March  and  a  dry  May  portend  a  wholesome  summer,  if 
there  be  a  showering  April  between.     Sylva  sylvarum,  g,  8oj. 

It  is  no  less  true  in  this  human  kingdom  of  knowledge,  than  in 
God's  kingdom  of  heaven,  that  no  man  shall  enter  into  it  'except 
he  become  first  as  a  little  child.'      Valerius  Terminus,  Ch.  I. 

'What  is  truth,'  said  jesting  Pilate  ;  and  would  not  stay  for  an 
answer.     Essay  i. 

A  mixture  of  a  lie  doth  ever  add  pleasure.     lb. 

It  is  heaven  upon  earth  to  have  a  man's  mind  move  in  charity, 
rest  in  providence,  and  turn  upon  the  poles  of  truth.     lb. 

Men  fear  death  as  children  fear  to  go  in  the  dark.     Essay  2. 

Revenge  is  a  kind  of  wild  justice.     Essay  4. 

He  that  hath  a  wife  and  children  hath  given  hostages  to 
fortune.     Essay  8. 

Men  in  great  place  are  thrice  servants.     Essay  11. 

As  in  nature  things  move  violently  to  their  place,  and  calmly 
in  their  place  ;  so  virtue  in  ambition  is  violent,  in  authority  settled 
and  calm.     lb. 

Money  is  like  muck,  not  good  except  it  be  spread.     Essay  ij. 

The  remedy  is  worse  than  the  disease.     lb. 

A  little  philosophy  inclineth  man's  mind  to  atheism  ;  but  depth 
in  philosophy  bringeth  men's  minds  about  to  religion.     Essay  16. 

Princes  are  like  to  heavenly  bodies,  which  cause  good  or  evil 
times  ;  and  which  have  much  veneration  and  no  rest.     Essay  ig. 

Books  will  speak  plain  when  counsellors  blanch.     Essay  20. 

An  ant  is  a  wise  creature  for  itself,  but  it  is  a  shrewd  thing  in 
an  orchard  or  garden.     Essay  23. 

It  is  the  nature  of  extreme  self-lovers,  as  they  will  set  a  house 
on  fire,  and  it  were  but  to  roast  their  eggs.     lb. 

It  is  the  wisdom  of  the  crocodiles  that  shed  tears  when  they 
would  devour.     lb. 

He  that  will  not  apply  new  remedies  must  expect  new  evils  ; 
for  time  is  the  greatest  innovator.     Essay  24.. 

To  choose  time  is  to  save  time.     Essay  2j. 

A  crowd  is  not  company,  and  faces  are  but  a  gallery  of  pictures. 
Essay  27. 

This  much  is  certain  ;  that  he  that  commands  the  sea  is  at 
great  liberty,  and  may  take  as  much  and  as  little  of  the  war  as  he 
will.     Essay  2g. 

Age  will  not  be  defied.     Essay  30. 


200  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Suspicions,  among  thoughts,  are  like  bats  amongst  birds,  they 
ever  fly  by  twilight.     Essay  ji. 

He  that  plots  to  be  the  only  figure  among  ciphers,  is  the  decay 
of  a  whole  age.     Essay  j6. 

Houses  are  built  to  live  in,  and  not  to  look  on.     Essay  45. 

God  Almighty  first  planted  a  garden  :  and  indeed  it  is  the 
purest  of  human  pleasures.     Essay  46. 

Read  not  to  contradict  and  confute  ;  nor  to  believe  and  take 
for  granted  ;  nor  to  find  talk  and  discourse  ;  but  to  weigh  and 
consider.     Essay  jo. 

Reading  maketh  a  full  man  ;  conference  a  ready  man  ;  and 
writing  an  exact  man.     lb. 

The  arch-flatterer  which  is  a  man's  self.     Essay  jj. 

Hope  is  a  good  breakfast,  but  it  is  a  bad  supper.  Apophthegms, 
No.  pS- 

For  my  name  and  memory,  I  leave  it  to  men's  charitable 
speeches,  and  to  foreign  nations  and  the  next  ages.  Last  will, 
Dec.  igth,  162 j. 


MILTON  (1608-1674). 

John    Milton    was   born  in  London,    December  9,  1608,  in 
Bread  Street,   Cheapside,  where    he    lived    for 
parentage.  the  first   sixteen   years    of   his  life,  in  the  very 

heart  of  the  City.  Milton's  father  was  a  suc- 
cessful scrivener,  a  man  of  high  character  and  cultivated  tastes. 
He  was  an  accomplished  musician,  and  taught  his  son  to  play 
on  the  organ,  his  house  being  frequented  by  musicians  and 
people  of  artistic  tastes. 

Milton's  father  took  the  utmost  pains  with  his  son's  educa- 
tion, and  seems  from  the  first  to    have    deter- 

Early  education. 

mined  that  he  should  have  every  opportunity 
of  making  a  name  for  himself.  Milton's  tutor  at  home  was  a 
Puritan,  Thomas  Young,  afterwards  Master  of  Jesus  College, 
Cambridge.  Later  Milton  went  as  a  day-scholar  to  St.  Paul's 
School,  then  under  Alexander  Gill.  He  worked  only  too 
hard,  and  seldom  went  to  bed  before  midnight,  in  spite  of 
frequent  headaches  and  overstrained  eyes.  Before  the  close 
of  his  schoolboy  days  he  had  mastered  Latin  and  Greek,  had 
learned  some  Hebrew,  and  by  his  father's  advice  studied 
French  and  Italian. 

As  a  child  Milton  was  fond  of  poetry.     Spenser  appears  to 
have  influenced  him  most.     Another  favourite 

Early  poems.  .     .  .  .  _,    .  ,  .        , 

of  his  apparently  was  Sylvester  s  quaint  but 
poetical  translation  of  Du  Bartas's  Divine  Weekes  and  Workes, 
a  religious  book  then  much  in  vogue  in  godly  households,  and 
to  us  known  chiefly  by  the  quotations  from  it  in  Walton's 
Complete  Angler.  Milton  seems  to  have  amused  himself  and 
pleased  his  parents  by  versifying  on  his  own  account.  Of  these 
early  efforts,  however,  nothing  remains  but  paraphrases  of 
Psalms  cxiv  and  cxxxvi,  written  when  he  was  fifteen  years 
old.  The  second  of  these  shows  distinct  signs  of  Milton's 
peculiar  genius. 


202  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

In  1625  Milton  entered  Christ's  College,  Cambridge,  where 

he  remained  for  seven  years,  though   a   pass- 
career!^  inS   personal   disagreement    with    his  College 

tutor  led  to  a  short  rustication  during  the 
spring  of  his  second  year.  This  absence  was  allowed  to  count 
as  vacation  time,  and  on  returning  to  College  he  was  given  the 
option  of  changing  his  tutor.  Thus  the  incident,  which  Milton 
viewed  with  a  haughty  contempt,  in  no  way  interfered  with  the 
prescribed  course  of  his  University  studies  ;  he  took  his  B.  A. 
degree  (1629)  and  afterwards  his  M.  A.  (1632)  at  the  regular 
times  ;  and  there  is  clear  proof  that  at  the  close  of  his  College 
career  he  was  held  in  the  highest  esteem  both  by  the  authorities 
and  by  his  fellow-students.  His  popularity  both  in  his  own 
college  and  in  the  University,  was  evidenced  by  his  success  in 
carrying  out  the  role  of  'father'  in  the  festive  academic  satur- 
nalia of  A  Vacation  Exercise  (1628).  Nor  was  he  as  yet 
consciously  in  opposition  to  the  Established  Church,  for  on 
each  occasion  of  graduating,  he  professed  his  membership  in 
that  church  by  signing  the  Articles. 

Besides    the    Exercise,    Milton,    during    his  undergraduate 

course  wrote  only  one    other    English    poem, 
infant' ;  Latin  On   the    Death   of  a    Fair   Infant  dying  of  a 

Cou°h  (1625-6).  The  infant  daughter  of 
Milton's  elder  sister  Anne,  who  in  1624  had  married  Edward 
Phillips,  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  severity  of  the  winter  follow- 
ing the  Plague  of  1625.  There  is  in  this  poem  the  same 
blending  of  classic  mythology  with  the  history  and  doctrine  of 
the  Bible  which  is  so  marked  a  characteristic  of  Paradise  Lost. 
Several  Latin  poems  of  this  period  are  preserved,  which  show 
his  complete  mastery  of  classical  form.  The  most  interesting 
of  these  is  an  Epistle,  in  elegiac  verse,  to  Charles  Diodati.  his 
bosom  friend  and  former  school-fellow  at  St.  Paul's.  It  gives  an 
account,  among  other  things,  of  the  rustication  referred  to  above. 
But   Milton's    true    genius    first   began  fully  to  unfold  itself 

after  he  had  taken  his    B.A.    degree.     In    the 

Nativity  Ode"  ;  .  ,  ,  .       ..      '«. 

On  Shake-  year    following    (1630)    he    wrote  his    Ode  on 

the  Morning  of   Christ's   Nativity,    of    which 


MILTON.  203 

Hallam  says  that  it  is  'perhaps  the  finest  in  the  English 
language';  and  Landor  that  'it  is  incomparably  the  noblest 
piece  of  lyric  poetry  in  any  modern  language  that  I  am  con- 
versant with.'  He  attempted  to  carry  on  this  theme,  in  a 
Spenserian  sequel,  an  Ode  on  the  Passion  (1630)  ;  but,  feeling 
dissatisfied  with  the  attempt,  he  left  it  unfinished.  Of  more 
lasting  merit  are  his  well-known  lines  On  Shakespeare  (1630), 
commonly  but  incorrectly  called  a  sonnet.  In  his  Epitaph 
on  the  Marchioness  of  Winchester  (163  1)  Milton  tried  his  hand 
very  successfully  in  the  metrical  and  imaginative  characteristics 
of  Ben  Johnson's  style.  The  untimely  death  in  child-birth  of 
this  beautiful  and  accomplished  lady  seems  to  have  excited 
wide-spread  public  regret,  and  Cambridge  apparently  contribut- 
ed a  semi-official  collection  of  verses  of  condolence  on  the 
occasion,  in  which  Milton  very  naturally  joined.  A  more 
spontaneous  tribute  is  found  in  his  two  sets  of  verses  On  the 
University  Carrier  (1631)-  The  beautiful  sonnet,  On  his  having 
arrived  at  the  age  of  23  (1631),  is  perfectly  Miltonic,  an  epi- 
tome and  prophecy  both  of  the  poet  and  the  man. 

Throughout  his    college    career    Milton    was,   outwardly  at 

least  and  in  the  main  inwardly,  in  full  sympathy 
Cicareerf  *  w'tn  ^'s  surroundings.     But  on  one   point    his 

mind  had  gradually  been  made  up.  He  could 
not  and  would  not  take  orders  as  a  clergyman  in  the  Church  of 
England.  This  determination  practically  closed  all  possibility 
of  a  continued  University  career.  Nor  would  he  study  for 
other  learned  professions,  Law  or  Medicine.  His  father  was 
disappointed  at  this  resolve  ;  but  Milton  was  firm.  He  felt  an 
inward  call,  to  prepare  himself  by  study  and  meditation  for 
writing  some  poem  which  should  mould  the  thought  of  man- 
kind. What  that  poem  mighc  be,  how  or  when  it  should  be 
written,  he  knew  not.  All  he  knew  was  that  his  whole  life, 
inward  and  outward,  was  a  preparation  for  the  destiny  assigned 
him  by  the  will  of  Heaven. 

Accordingly    he    betook    himself    to    the    quiet    retreat    of 

Horton,  a  country  house  in    Buckinghamshire 
RHorton°  to   wnicn    his   father  had  retired  after  making 

his  fortune.     Here  he  spent  a  period  of  nearly 


204  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

six  years  (1632-8)  in  the  steady  perusal  of  Greek  and  Latin 
authors,  with  occasional  visits  to  London  for  the  purchase  of 
books  or  for  opportunities  of  learning  'anything  new  in  mathe- 
matics or  music,  in  which  he  then  took  delight.'  Nor  was  this 
retirement  unfruitful.  For  here  he  wrote  his  better  known 
lesser  poems,  U Allegro,  II  Penseroso,  Arcades,  Comas,  and 
Lycidas.  Had  he  produced  nothing  else,  these  alone  would 
have  secured  his  immortality  in  English  literature. 

Of  these  poems  the  first  two  are  companion   pieces.      They 
reflect  the    spirit  of    Milton's   surroundings  in 
Lptn!froso."  his  rustic  retreat  at    Horton.      Their   typically 

English  scenery  is  of  course  idealised  and 
combined  with  reminiscences  of  other  places,  similarly  trans- 
figured by  the  poet's  inspiration.  But  these  twin  poems  are 
chiefly  interesting  as  representing  the  two  ideals  set  forth,  as  it 
were,  for  the  poet's  choice.  Each  poem  enshrines  a  mood  of 
feeling,  with  an  appropriate  setting  of  incidents  and  scenes. 
L'  Allegro  begins  with  the  dawn,  its  hours  passed  in  blameless 
social  mirth  ;  with  rustic  merry-makings  during  the  noonday, 
with  the  Shakespearean  stage  or  the  madrigals  of  Lawes  by 
night.  11  Penseroso  begins  with  twilight,  leading  to  the  solitary 
night-long  vigil  of  a  philosophic  recluse.  The  day  that  follows 
is  buried  in  woodland  shades,  its  only  point  of  contact  with 
humanity  being  found  in  his  listening,  as  an  outsider  not  as  a 
worshipper,  to  the  stately  organ  music  of  a  cathedral  or  college 
choir  ;  and  its  great  aspiration  is  for  the  serene  wisdom  of  the 
hermitage.  Johnson  in  his  Life  of  Millon  declares  that  there 
is  some  melancholy  (Bagehot  remarks  that  if  he  had  said 
solitariness,  it  would  have  been  correct)  in  the  mirth  of 
L 'Allegro ;  and  indeed  its  mirth  is  the  cheerfulness  of  a 
student,  not  the  hilarity  of  a  worldling  ;  there  is  a  touch  of 
pensiveness  about  it.  It  has  been  said  that  in  these  two  poems 
Milton  sums  up,  each  at  its  best,  the  Cavalier  and  the  Puritan 
ideal  of  life.  A  comparison  of  the  two  shows  us  plainly  which 
side  was  Milton's  final  and  deliberate  choice.  He  chose  to  be 
the  poet  of  heavenly  mysteries,  of  the  loftiest  imaginings ; 
prepared  for  his  work   by   the    ministries    of    Peace,    Contem- 


MILTON.  205 

plation,  and  'spare  Fast  that  oft  with  Gods  doth  diet.' 

It  was  probably  through  the  friendly  offices  of  Henry  Lawes, 
a  Court  musician  and  composer,  that  Milton 
was  led  to  try  his  hand  at  the  Masque,  a  form 
of  poetry  for  which  his  genius  was  specially  adapted.  In  its 
origin  the  Masque  was  little  more  than  a  series  of  historical  or 
legendary  tableaux  v ivants  ;  but  since  even  the  best  grouping 
and  stage-accessories  would  still  leave  room  for  verbal  explana- 
tions, which  could  best  be  given  by  the  actors  themselves  in 
these  assumed  disguises  ;  and  since  furthermore  one  great 
object  of  these  entertainments  was  to  do  honour  to  some  distin- 
guished personage  before  whom  they  were  presented,  compli- 
mentary speeches  put  into  the  mouths  of  the  dramatis  personae 
were  almost  inevitable.  Thus  the  Masque  became  a  kind  of 
musical,  semi-dramatic  entertainment.  Mythological  incidents 
and  classical  allusions  were  the  stuff  of  which  it  was  chiefly 
made  ;  nor  was  any  subtle  character-drawing  at  all  necessary 
for  the  dialogue.  It  was  precisely  the  form  of  composition 
which  suited  Ben  Jonson  best :  his  masques  excel  those  of  all 
his  contemporaries,  and  would  have  remained  unrivalled,  had 
Milton  never  entered  the  field.  Shakespeare  attempted  only 
one  Masque,  his  Midsummer  N'ijht's  Dream  ;  but  the  dramatic 
instinct  was  too  strong  in  him,  and  the  evolution  of  Bottom's 
immortal  personality  presently  changed  his  Masque  into  a  play. 
Milton  had  only  a  slender  dramatic  faculty  ;  but  he  had  a  richer 
fancy  than  Jonson,  a  more  melodious  music,  and  a  loftier  ideal. 
No  wonder  that  his  one  complete  masque  (Comus)  is  supreme 
in  that  type  of  literature. 

Milton's  Arcades  is  but  a  fragment  of  a  masque  got  up  in 
honour  of  Alice,  Countess-Dowager  of  Derby, 
at  her  estate  at  Harefield,  in  Middlesex, 
where  formerly  Queen  Elizabeth  had  been  entertained  with  a 
kind  of  masque  in  the  long  avenue  of  elms  leading  to  the 
house,  ever  afterwards  called  'The  Queen's  Walk.'  The 
venerable  countess  held  a  prominent  position  both  in  the 
social  and  the  literary  world;  and  in  the  year  1633  was  the 
centre  of  a  large  group  of  high-born   descendants  and  relatives. 


206  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

They  determined  to  honour  her,  perhaps  on  her  birthday,  with 
a  masque.  Henry  Lawes,  one  of  the  King's  musicians,  and  a 
teacher  of  music  and  singing  in  many  noble  families,  was  no 
doubt  the  stage-manager  and  director.  But  he  had  to  find 
some  one  to  write  the  words  of  the  masque,  and  naturally 
selected  his  young  poet-friend,  John  Milton,  who  subsequently 
dedicated  to  him  Sonnet  xiii  (1646).  Horton  was  only  ten 
miles  from  Harefield.  We  can  imagine  the  scene  on  the 
night  itself.  The  Harefield  grounds  are  brilliantly  illuminated 
after  a  day  of  sports  and  festivity  ;  the  tenantry  are  all  there  as 
on-lookers ;  the  Countess  Dowager  herself,  seated  on  a 
throne  of  state  is  receiving  the  congratulations  of  the  great 
company  of  her  children,  grandchildren,  relatives,  and  friends; 
when  suddenly  a  torch-lit  band  of  nymphs  and  shepherds 
emerges  from  the  surrounding  trees,  and  in  stately  dance  ap- 
proach their  Queen,  'sitting  like  a  goddess  bright,  in  the  centre 
of  her  light,'  and  sing  her  praises  as  they  wind  and  glide  to- 
wards her.  Next  there  emerges  from  the  forest  shades  the 
Genius  of  the  Wood  (Henry  Lawes)  with  his  prepared  speech, 
in  rhymed  heroics,  addressed  to  the  masquers,  whose  nobility 
of  descent  he  recognises  through  their  rustic  disguise.  Then, 
accompanying  himself  on  his  lute,  he  leads  them  with  the 
second  song  to  their  hostess,  and  invites  them  'to  kiss  her 
sacred  vesture's  hem'  :  this  done,  they  clo?>e  with  symbolic 
dance  and  choral  song,  with  its  echoing  refrain — 

'Such  a  rural  queen 

All  Arcadia  hath  not  seen.' 

This  brief  fragment,  for  it  is  little  more,  is  the  L'  Allegro  of 
Milton's  two  masques  ;  the  other,  Comus,  is  'of  a  higher  mood.' 

The  Earl  of  Bridgewater  the  Countess  Dowager's  step-son 
and  son-in-law,  had  been  nominated  by  Charles 
I.  to  the  Viceroyalty  of  Wales.  The  official  seat 
of  this  dignitary  was  Ludlow  Castle  in  Shropshire.  To  this 
place,  the  Earl  of  Bridgewater  betook  himself  in  1634  for  the 
ceremonial  of  inauguration  into  his  high  office.  He  brought 
his  family  with  him,  including  his  youngest  daughter,  the  Lady 
Alice  Egerton,  and  her  two  younger  brothers,  Viscount  Brackley 


MILTON.  207 

and  Mr.  Thomas  Egerton.  A  large  concourse  of  the  neighbour- 
ing nobility  and  gentry  came  to  do  honour  to  their  chief,  and  to 
share  in  the  festivities  which  were  prolonged  day  after  day  till 
they  culminated  on  Michaelmas  night  in  a  masque.  For  at  this 
time  the  Court  and  the  aristocracy  were  '  masque-mad.'  In  the 
previous  February  the  lawyers  of  the  Four  Inns  of  Court  had 
given  a  magnificent  production  of  Shirley's  masque.  The 
Triumph  of  Peace,  before  King  Charles  and  his  queen  in  the 
banqueting  house  at  Whitehall.  A  fortnight  later  their  Majes- 
ties themselves  gave  another  masque,  Carew's  Ccelum  Britan- 
tiicum,  in  which  the  King,  fourteen  of  the  chief  nobles,  and  ten 
young  sons  of  noblemen  were  the  actors.  For  both  these 
masques  Lawes  composed  the  music,  and  in  the  latter  masque 
two  of  the  subordinate  parts  were  taken  by  his  favourite  pupils, 
two  of  the  Earl  of  Bridgewater's  family.  Hence  it  was  natural 
that  they  and  their  sister  should  persuade  Lawes  to  arrange  a 
similar  entertainment  at  Ludlow  Castle  in  honour  of  their 
father's  induction  into  his  new  office  ;  and  that  Lawes  should 
again  apply  to  his  young  friend  John  Milton  to  write  the  words 
for  him  to  set  to  the  music.     The  result  was  Comus. 

Covins   was   a    triumphant    success ;  and    Lawes    was    so 
its  moral  importuned    for    copies    by  admiring  friends 

purpose.  that   at    jast   jn     j5^7    ne    published    it   with 

Milton's  consent  but  without  Milton's  name.  But  while  Milton 
had  shown  all  the  skill  of  a  courtier  in  the  complimentary  set- 
ting of  this  poem,  its  moral  purpose  is  as  stern  and  intense  as 
that  of  Paradise  Lost.  Milton  was  keenly  alive  to  the  danger 
of  the  times.  In  Church  and  State  things  were  steadily  going 
from  bad  to  worse.  In  the  Church,  under  Laud's  undisputed 
autocracy,  a  sensuous  ritual  was  benumbing  the  soul  of  the 
nation,  and  preparing  it  for  a  tame  acquiescence  in  the  most 
degrading  spiritual  despotism.  And  in  the  Royal  Court  a 
systematized  and  brilliant  sensuality  had  cunningly  allied  itself 
to  a  desperate  determination  on  the  part  of  Charles  and  his  un- 
scrupulous minister  Strafford  to  bring  about  the  unchecked 
absolutism  of  the  Crown.  The  majority  of  the  courtiers  were 
mere  creatures  of  Royalty,  whose  patents  of  nobility  dated    no 


208  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

further  back  than  the  accession  of  James  I.  They  were  a 
Comus  rabble,  drest  up  in  the  glistering  robes  of  nobility, 
but  with  heads  and  hearts  of  bestial  sensuality.  The  speches  of 
the  magician  are  no  caricature  ;  they  are  a  transcript  of  what 
might  any  day  have  been  heard  among  the  Court  wits.  To  the 
real  nobility  of  England,  to  families  of  the  Bridgewater  type, 
Milton  turns  for  the  salvation  of  the  State.  For  them  his 
masque  is  an  allegory.  They  with  a  wise  valour  must  over- 
throw the  enchanter  and  seize  his  wand.  Even  if  like  '  the 
brothers.'  they  partially  fail,  Milon  has  a  supreme  faith  in  the 
ultimate  triumph  of  Virtue  : — 

'She  alone  is  free  : 
She  can  teach  you  how  to  climb 
Higher  than  the  sphery  chime  ; 
Or,  if  virtue  feeble  were, 
Heaven  itself  would  stoop  to  her.' 

For  greater  effectiveness  on   the    stage,    Lawes    made    one 
Lawes's  change         change    in    the  text  of  the  masque.     He  knew 
m  the  text.  tnat  a  fashionable  audience  will  not  sit  patient- 

ly through  a  long  epilogue  ;  and  he  knew  also  that  he  himself 
could  make  a  far  more  effective  stage-entrance  with  a  song  than 
with  a  speech.  Accordingly  he  altered  line  976  from  '  To  the 
ocean  now  I  fly'  into  '  From  the  heavens  now  I  fly,  and  trans- 
ferred it,  with  the  thirty-five  lines  following,  to  the  beginning 
of  the  piece,  where  it  formed  a  song  with  which  he  made  his 
aerial  descent  upon  the  stage,  prior  to  delivering  his  opening 
speech  (1.  93).  Then  after  the  '  presentation  '  song  (11.  966-975) 
he  slowly  ascended  to  the  '  skies  '  singing  the  short  epilogue 
(1.  1012  to  end). 

We    have    at  least  one  proof  that  the  merits  of  Comus  were 
wotton's  recognised  by  Milton's  contemporaries.  Early 

criticism  m    j  63S    he    had   formed  the  acquaintance  of 

Sir  Henry  Wotton,  his  neighbour  at  Horton  and  a  man  of  high 
culture  and  wide  experience  in  the  diplomatic  service.  In  a 
letter  to  the  poet,  who  had  sent  him  a  copy  of  the  poem,  he 
describes  it  as  'a  dainty  piece  of  entertainment,  wherein  I 
should  much  commend  the  tragical  part  (i.  e.  the  dialogue), 
if  the  lyrical  did  not  ravish  me  with  a  certain  Doric  delicacy  in 


MILTON.  209 

your  songs  and  odes ;  whereunto    I    must    plainly   confess   to 
have  seen  yet  nothing  parallel  in  our  language.' 

Three    short    poems,    At   a  Solemn  Music,  On  Time,  and 
Upon  the     Circumcision,   belong    probably   to 

Short  poems.  ,_.,         ,  '  I  ,,     , 

Milton  s  retirement  at  Horton.  All  three  are 
experiments  in  irregular  metre.  The  first-named  was  written 
after  Arcades;  and  Milton's  own  manuscript  copy,  in  the 
Cambridge  collection,  contains  four  drafts,  and  shows  his 
habit  of  close  and  careful  correction  of  his  own  work,  revising, 
rejecting,  and  enlarging,  until  he  had  at  length  satisfied  his 
own  scrupulous  taste.  The  second  was  intended  as  an  inscrip- 
tion to  be  put  on  a  clock-case.  The  last  is  an  echo  or  after- 
thought from  the  Ode  on  the  Nativity,  but  far  inferior  to  it 
both  in  form  and  substance.  The  other  two,  and  especially 
the  first,  contain  some  lines  equal  both  in  majesty  and  music 
to  anything  Milton  ever  wrote.  The  influence  of  his  organ- 
loving  father's  home,  and  of  his  friendship  with  Lawes,  is 
plainly  perceptible  in  both. 

In  1635  Milton  was  made  M.  A.  of  Oxford ;  in  1637  he  had 
to  mourn  his  mother's  death  ;  and  later  in  the 
same  year  he  heard  of  the  tragic  death  of  one 
of  his  Cambridge  friends,  Edward  King,  a  Fellow  of  Milton's 
own  College,  and  destined  to  become  a  clergyman  in  the 
Church  of  England.  He  had  on  several  public  occasions 
written  complimentary  Latin  verses  of  no  great  merit ;  but 
Milton  appears  to  have  had  a  very  high  opinion  of  his  personal 
character.  King  was  certainly  very  popular,  both  in  Court 
society  and  in  the  University,  and  when  the  news  came  that, 
as  he  was  returning  to  Ireland  in  the  Long  Vacation  of  1687, 
the  ship  in  which  he  was  sailing  had  struck  suddenly  on  an 
unknown  rock,  and  had  gone  down  with  almost  all  on  board, 
his  Cambridge  friends  decided  to  draw  up  and  publish  a 
volume  of  commemorative  verses.  This  was  done  :  twenty- 
three  pieces  in  Latin  or  Greek  and  thirteen  in  English  were 
printed  at  the  University  Press  ;  the  last  and  longest  of  the 
latter  (six  pages  out  of  twenty-five)  being  Lycidas,  signed  with 
the  initials  '  J.  M.' 
14 


210  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

1  lie  poem  is  primarily  a  commemorative   pastoral,  in  which 
Milton  bewails  the  untimely  death  of  a  college 
meaning.  friend   and    companion.      They  had  no  doubt 

been  on  familiar  and  friendly  terms  ;  had 
shared  the  varied  interests,  social  and  literary,  of  University 
life.  All  this  is  set  forth  in  the  conventional  phraseology  of 
the  pastoral  form  with  wonderful  beauty' and  finish.  But  the 
secondary  interest  of  the  poem  really  outweighs  its  primary 
object..  King  had  devoted  himself  to  the  ministry,  of  the 
Church  ;  had  he  lived,  he  would  no  doubt  have  proved  himself 
a  clergyman  after  Milton's  own  heart.  His  sudden  death  was 
thus  a  loss  to  the  Puritan  cause  as  well  as  to  the  University  ; 
and  this  gives  Milton  an  opportunity  to  launch  out  into  a 
terrible  denunciation  of  the  ecclesiastical  corruption  of  the 
times.  The  opening  of  the  poem  shows  us  that  Milton  had 
definitely  determined  to  write  no  more  verse  till  his  powers 
had  become  mature  ;  but  the  'bitter  constraint'  of  his  friend's 
tragic  death  compelled  him  to  break  through  this  resolve  and 
with  'forced  fingers  rude'  to  'shatter'  the  as  yet  immature 
foliage  of  the  poetic  tree.  And  the  closing  lines  (186-193) 
intimate  quite  as  clearly  that  the  first  of  the  three  acts  in  the 
drama  of  Milton's  life  is  closed.  The  season  for  youthful 
poetry  has  gone,  never  to  return.  He  has  definitely  donned 
the  prophetic  cloak,  the  'mantle  blue'  of  the  Puritan  faction, 
and  is  going  forth  to  a  new  life — a  life  of  strenuous  toil  and 
militant  prose. 

But  before  this  second  epoch  in  his  life   there    was   a    short 
breathing-space.  For  some  time  Milton  appears 

Italian  journey,  .  ,       .   .       ,     ,       .  ,  f       .  T     , 

to  have  cherished  the  idea  of  a  journey  to  Italy 
as  an  essential  part  of  his  poetical  self-education.  This  plan 
seems  to  have  been  delayed  for  several  reasons,  partly  through 
his  father's  reluctance.  For  a  young  man  to  visit  Italy  would, 
in  the  opinion  of  all  sober,  God-fearing  Englishmen  of  that 
time,  have  been  much  the  same  as  for  the  Lady  of  Milton's 
masque  to  have  entered  of  her  own  accord  the  enchanted 
palace  of  Comus.  Even  Shakespeare  had  protested  against 
the  corruption  of  the  manners  and  morals  of  our  upper  classes 


MILTON.  211 

by  Italian  influences  ;  and  to  become  'Italianated'  was  a  syn- 
onym for  effeminate  debauchery.  But  in  1638  his  father's  con- 
sent was  gained,  and  he  set  out.  His  tour  was  almost  a 
triumphal  progress.  At  Paris,  Florence,  Rome,  and  Naples 
he  was  effusively  welcomed  and  extravagantly  praised  by  social 
dignitaries  and  learned  literates.  He  repaid  these  compliments 
in  kind,  and  'rivalled  his  entertainers  in  flattery  and  fustian.' 
But  he  never  swerved  one  hairsbreadth  either  in  morals  or  in 
religion,  and  at  some  risk  to  himself  he  openly  maintained  his 
Protestant  convictions  even  in  Rome.  From  Naples  he  had 
intended  to  proceed  to  Sicily  and  Greece  ;  but  news  of  the 
civil  war  imminent  in  Scotland  made  him  change  his  plans  : 
'I  thought  it  base  to  be  travelling  at  my  ease  for  intellectual 
culture  while  my  fellow-countrymen  at  home  were  fighting  for 
liberty.'  For  Scotland  had  abolished  Episcopacy,  and  Charles 
was  preparing  an  army  in  England  and  Ireland  to  punish  such 
audacious  revolt  against  Laud  and  himself.  Apparently  he 
received  further  news  that  the  crisis  was  not  imminent,  for  he 
made  his  return  journey  in  the  most  leisurely  fashion,  spending 
two  months  in  Rome  in  bold  defiance  of  Jesuits  and  Papal 
police ;  two  months  in  Florence  ;  thence  to  Lucca,  Bologna, 
and  Ferrara ;  a  month  in  Venice ;  thence  by  Verona  and 
Milan  to  Geneva.  There  he  passed  two  weeks  in  daily  con- 
ference with  Protestant  theologians,  specially  Dr.  Jean  Diodati, 
uncle  of  his  friend  Charles  ;  thence  to  Paris  ;  and  so,  early  in 
August  1639,  back  to  Horton.  The  chief  results  of  his  tour, 
besides  the  broadening  of  his  mental  horizon,  were  two  :  he 
had  come  into  living  contact  with  the  results  of  the  Papal 
system  in  the  person  of  the  imprisoned  Galileo  ;  and  by  close 
study  of  the  strict  Petrarchian  model  he  re-created  the  English 
sonnet.  The  Shakespearean  sonnet  had  been  the  perfect 
reflex  of  Shakespeare's  own  personality  ;  but  in  Milton's  hands 
the  sonnet  became  a  new  power,  a  war-trumpet,  'whence  he 
blew  Soul-animating  strains — alas,  too  few  l'1 


Wordsworth,  Scorn  not  the  Sonnet. 


212  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Milton's  return  was  saddened  by  the    sudden    death    of   his 

friend    Charles   Diodati.       His  bitter  personal 
EDamon'is™         SrlQi  gave  birth  to  the  Epitaphium    Damonis, 

a  Latin  pastoral,  closely  modelled  on  the  most 
perfect  classical  precedents — Virgil,  and  the  Greek  elegies  of 
Theocritus,  Moschus,  and  Bion.  Incidentally  we  learn  from 
this  poem  that  all  through  these  years  Milton's  mind  had  been 
preoccupied  with  the  project  of  an  epic  poem  founded  on 
British  legendary  history,  and  especially  on  the  romance  of 
King  Arthur ;  and  further  that  he  had  resolved  to  give  up  Latin, 
and  betake  himself  to  English  as  the  medium  of  his  poetic 
inspirations  in  future. 

Early  in  1640  Milton  removed  to  lodgings  in    Fleet   Street. 

The    Horton    household    was  now  broken  up. 
ReL™d!nt0  His  father  and  younger   brother    Christopher, 

with  his  wife  and  child,  settled  at  Reading. 
His  sister  Anne  became  a  widow  in  1631,  and  subsequently 
married  Thomas  Agar.  Of  the  two  sons  by  the  first  marriage, 
Edward  and  John,  the  younger,  nine  years  of  age,  went  to  live 
entirely  with  his  uncle;  while  Edward  had  his  daily  lessons  at 
his  uncle's  lodging.  The  poet  schoolmaster  thus  spent  his 
days  in  teaching,  in  literary  work,  and  in  meditating  on  the 
political  situation  of  the  time,  which  was  growing  serious.  The 
Long  Parliament  was  now  sitting,  and  things  were  rapidly  shap- 
ing themselves  for  the  crisis  of  the  Civil  War.  Milton  however 
clung  to  the  hope  that  Parliament  could  be  trusted  to  bring 
about  all  necessary  reforms  in  Church  and  State  :  he  himself 
and  his  own  life-work  to  accomplish.  With  this  end  in  view  he 
removed  from  Fleet  Street  to  a  pretty  garden-house  at  the  back 
of  an  entry  in  Aldersgate  Street,  a  quiet  retreat,  large  enough 
for  his  little  household  and  his  books,  taking  with  him  both  his 
nephews,  himself  their  teacher  and  their  example  in  'hard  study 
and  spare  diet.' 

For  a  time  all  went  well.  The  Long  Parliament,  with  almost 

Political  absolute  unanimity,  had  made  a    clean    sweep 

controversy.        of   ]ong_stanc]ing   abuses .    Strafford    had  met 

his  doom,  and  Laud  was  in  prison  ;  the  royal   prerogative   was 


MILTON.  213 

constitutionally  denned  and  the  rights  of  Parliament  safeguard- 
ed. Next  the  Church  had  to  be  put  in  order.  Hereupon 
fundamental  divisions  arose  in  Parliament  itself  and  in  the 
nation  outside.  Some  wished  to  retain  a  modified  and  con- 
stitutionalized  Episcopacy  ;  others,  root-and-branch  Reformers, 
determined  to  abolish  Episcopacy  altogether.  Lycidas  has 
shown  us  how  keenly  Milton  felt  on  this  question.  Accordingly 
he  threw  himself  whole-heartedly  into  the  fray.  His  poetic 
mission  was  laid  aside  ;  and  the  second  act  in  the  drama  of 
his  life,  the  epoch  of  strenuous  political  controversy,  began. 
There  is  little  doubt  that  his  genius  ripened  best  through  this 
enforced  suspension  ;  just  as,  in  another  way,  Shakespeare's  did 
through  his  enforced  subjection  to  the  prosaic  necessities  of 
theatrical  success.  It  was  the  Civil  War  undoubtedly  that 
brought  into  full  play  all  the  special  characteristics  of  Milton's 
nature  and  made  the  heroic  splendours  of  King  Arthur's 
Round  Table  gradually  fade  into  insignificance  before  the 
mystic  sublimities  that  centred  in  the  Fall  of  Man. 

Milton's   first    contribution    to    the    popular   debate    was  a 
Five  prose  pamphlet    entitled    Of   Reformation     touching 

pamphlets.  Church  Discipline  in  England,  and  the  Causes 

that  have  hitherto  hindered  it,  published  in  May  [641.  On  the 
High  Church  side  of  the  controversy  Bishop  Hall  published 
A  Humble  Remonstrance  to  the  High  Court  of  Parliament.  A 
reply  to  this  was  brought  out  by  five  Puritan  divines,  under 
the  pseudonym  of  Smectymnuus,  a  word  coined  from  their 
initals  (Stephen  Marshall,  Edmund  Calamy,  Thomas  Young, 
Matthew  Newcomen,  and  William  Sparstow).  A  war  of 
pamphlets  ensued  ;  Archbishop  Usher  and  Bishop  Hall  leading 
the  Episcopalians,  Milton  and  the  Smectymnuans  opposing 
them  on  the  Puritan  side.  Milton  wrote  five  pamphlets  in 
all  :  the  one  mentioned  above,  Of  Prelatical  Episcopacy, 
Animadversions  upon  Hall's  reply  to  Smectymnuus,  The  Reason 
of  Church  Government  urged  against  Prelaty,  and  an  Apology 
directed  against  an  attack  upon  the  Animadversions.  By  the 
impassioned  eloquence  of  these  pamphlets,  and  especially  by 
his    scathing    invectives   against  Bishop  Hall,  Milton  became  a 


214  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

prominent      man     among     the     root-and-branch     Reformers. 

In  may  1643  Milon  entered   into   an    ill-assorted    marriage 

First  marriage.       with    Mar>'     Powell,     the     seventeen-year-old 

daughter  of  a  Royalist  Justice  of  the  Peace,  of 
Forest  Hill.  The  Powells  were  a  genteel  family  in  embarrassed 
circumstances,  and  it  appears  that  Mary  Powell's  father  had 
owed  a  debt  of  ^500  to  Milton's  father  for  sixteen  years  past. 
On  the  part  of  the  young  people  it  was  no  doubt  a  genuine  case 
of  love  at  first  sight.  On  the  part  of  her  parents  it  was  simply 
a  sordid  speculation ;  they  sold  their  daughter  to  evade  a 
troublesome  creditor.  Some  of  the  relatives  accompanied  the 
bride  to  Milton's  house  in  Aldersgate  Street  and  were  feasted 
there  for  several  days.  After  a  month  or  two  they  wrote  (per- 
haps with  her  connivance)  begging  Milton  to  allow  his  wife  to 
pay  them  a  visit  for  the  summer.  Leave  was  granted  till 
Michaelmas,  and  the  bride  went  back  to  her  father's  house. 
Michaelmas  came,  but  she  did  not  return  ;  Milton's  letters  of 
expostulation  were  unanswered  and  his  special  messenger  was 
dismissed.  Hence  for  the  next  two  years  Milton  lived  in 
enforced  bachelorhood. 

In    the   year   of    Milton's     marriage     Parliament,     having 

abolished     Episcopacy,     called     together     an 

Presbyterians  r  r      /  >  o 

and  independents;      Assembly  of    Puritan  divines    at    Westminster 

'Areopagitica'. 

to  draw  up  the  forms  and  creed  of  the 
future  national  Church.  In  September  the  Scots  agreed  to 
aid  the  English  in  the  civil  war,  if  both  nations  would  agree  to 
the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant,  which  bound  them  to  have 
one  common  religion  and  one  ecclesiastical  polity.  This  was 
done  ;  a  Scottish  auxiliary  army  entered  England,  and  some 
Scottish  divines  took  their  places  in  the  Westminster  Assembly. 
In  July  1644  the  united  armies  won  the  battle  of  Marston  Moor. 
But  soon  afterwards  the  prospect  was  clouded  by  religious  and 
political  dissensions.  An  overwhelming  majority  both  of  the 
clergy  and  the  laity,  wished  to  establish  a  Presbyterian 
national  Church,  which  the  Scottish  faction  would  have  made 
as  rigidly  intolerant  as  Laud  himself  could  have  wished  his 
own     Episcopacy     to     be.     But    a    minority    held    that   each 


MILTON.  215 

Christian  congregation  ought  to  be  self-governing,  and  subject  to 
no  external  authority  but  that  of  Christ  Himself.  These,  the 
Independents,  gradually  formed  a  distinct  party,  in  both 
religion  and  politics.  The  Presbyterians  wished  to  make  terms 
with  the  king,  and  merely  to  coerce  him  into  constitutional 
government ;  the  Independents  became  more  and  more 
republican  in  their  views,  and  were  determined  to  bring  the 
war  to  a  speedy  issue.  The  two  men  who  in  their  respective 
spheres  were  the  chief  leaders  in  this  Independent  movement 
were  Cromwell  and  Milton.  The  latter  denounced,  in  lines 
marked  more  by  insight  and  force  than  by  poetic  merit,  their 
Assembly  as  worse  than  the  Council  of  Trent — 'New  Presbyter 
is  but  old  Priest  writ  large.1 

Yet  Milton,  like  the  other  Puritans  in  England,  had 
subscribed  to  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant.  It  was 
probably  his  unfortunate  marriage  more  than  anything  else 
that  opened  his  eyes  to  the  dangers  of  the  new  spiritual  tyranny. 
Immediately  after  his  wife  had  left  him  (August  1643)  he 
published  an  extraordinary  pamphlet.  The  Doctrine  and 
Discipline  of  Divorce,  in  which  he  argued  that  radical  in- 
compatibility of  temper  or  opinions  was  as  good  a  reason  for 
divorce  as  actual  infidelity.  Three  other  pamphlets  speedily 
followed,  the  Judgment  of  Martin  Bucer  concerning  Divorce, 
Tetrachordon,  and  Colasterion.  These  pamphlets  raised  a 
tempest  of  indignation  in  the  religious  world,  especially 
among  the  Presbyterians  ,  who  denounced  Milton  as  an  awful 
example  of  the  ungodliness  and  immorality  which  would  result 
from  any  scheme  of  toleration.  In  November  1644  Milton 
published  his  greatest  prose  wcrk,  the  Areopagilica,  or  Speech 
for  the  Liberty  of  Unlicensed  Printing.  In  this,  perhaps  the 
noblest  plea  for  freedom  of  thought  and  speech  that  the  world 
has  ever  known,  Milton  urged  the  Parliament  to  repeal  an 
ordinance  passed  in  June  1643  for  the  regulation  of  the  press, 
by  a  staff  of  official  censors.  The  Areopagilica  and  the  Doctr- 
ine of  Divorce  between  them,  placed  Milton  in  a  position  of 
irreconcileable    hostility    to  the  Presbyterians.     Henceforth  he 

1   On  the  Neio  Forctrs  of  Conscience. 


216  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

regarded  them  as  worse  foes  to  God  and  man  than  either  Laud 
or  Charles  I. 

Milton  meanwhile  in    his    bachelor    home    in     Aldersgate 
,  _  _  .  Street  kept  a  select  private  school  for  his    two 

Tract  on  Educa-  r  r 

tion';  reconciiia-       nephews    with    the    sons   of  a  few  friends.     It 

tion  with  his  wife.  r 

was  at  this  time  (June  1644)  that  he  publish- 
ed a  very  original  pamphlet,  the  Tract  on  Education.  It  was 
an  exposition  of  his  ideas  of  a  system  of  training  which  was  to 
replace  that  in  vogue  at  the  Public  Schools  and  Universities. 
Cromwell  had  now  by  tact  and  firmness  secured  the  prac- 
tical ascendancy  of  the  Independents  ;  had  remodelled  the 
Army;  and  finally  on  June  14,  1645  had  crushed  the  King's 
forces  at  the  battle  of  Naseby.  This  victory  convinced  Mr. 
Powell  that  the  king's  cause  was  hopeless  ;  his  daughter  was  sent 
to  London  ;  and  Milton  was  inveigled  into  an  interview,  in 
which  the  repentant  bride  was  forgiven  and  taken  back  to  her 
husband's  home. 

At  this  time  (1645)  Milton,  finding  his  house  too   small    for 

his  growing  academy,  took  a  larger  one  in  the 
House  in  the  Barbican,  where  he  lived  for  the  next  two  years. 

Barbican.  J 

His  father  lived  with  him,  and  after  the 
surrender  of  Oxford  to  Fairfax  in  June  1646,  Mr.  Powell  with 
part  of  his  family  came  for  shelter  to  his  son-in-law's  house. 
Here  in  July  of  the  same  year  Milton's  first  child,  Anne,  was 
born,  and  a  second  daughter,  Mary,  in  1647.  Milton's  time 
was  now  mostly  taken  up  with  his  pupils,  teaching  them  on 
the  methods  advocated  in  his  tract.  The  first  edition  of  his 
minor  poems  appeared  soon  after.  It  included  three  sonnets 
written  previously  ;  the  first,  in  anticipation  of  an  assault  on 
the  City  by  the  king's  army  ;  the  second,  To  a  Virtuous 
Young  Lady  ;  the  third.  To  the  Lady  Margaret  Ley.  In  the 
Barbican  house  he  wrote  the  two  sonnets  on  the  Tetrachordon 
controversy ;  also  one  to  Henry  Lawes,  and  another  to  the 
memory  of  Mrs.  Catharine  Thomson.  These  two  years 
must  have  been  a  time  of  some  anxiety,  with  a  triangular 
diplomatic  duel  going  on  between  the  King,  the  Scottish 
Presbyterians,    and    the    Independent    army.       Milton    was    a 


MILTON.  217 

marked  man  on  the  Presbyterian  black  list,  and  would  have 
been  the  first  to  suffer  had  they  gained  the  day.  Fortunately 
Cromwell's  Ironsides  got  the  King  into  their  own  hands  and 
took  possession  both  of  London  and  of  the  Parliament. 

About    October    1647    Milton    removed  to  a  smaller  house 

in   Lincoln's    Inn    Fields,    a  pleasant  and  airy 
coVn°s!nnVie"ds.       neighbourhood.     He     gave   up    most   of   his 

teaching  work,  and  busied  himself  with  a 
Latin  Dictionary,  a  System  of  Divinity,  and  a  History  of 
Britain.  Here  the  sonnet  to  General  Fairfax  was  written, 
with  metrical  paraphrases  of  nine  of  the  Psalms.  But  exter- 
nal events  had  moved  at  a  rapid  pace.  The  King  had  escap- 
ed and  been  retaken ;  the  Scots,  invading  England  to  place 
Charles  on  a  strictly  Presbyterian  throne,  had  been  crushed  by 
Cromwell  at  Preston  ;  Parliament  was  purged  of  Presbyterian 
traitors  ;  the  king  tried  and  executed,  and  a  Republic  set  up, 
governed  by  the  Rump  of  the  Long  Parliament  and  a  specially 
selected  Council  of  State. 

In    February    1649,    a   month    after  the  execution  of  King 

Charles    I,    Milton    published    a  tract,  Tenure 

En*aMi?e.im"  °f     KlnSs    and   Magistrates,    defending    that 

action,  and  reflecting  very  severely  on  the 
late  King's  life  and  character.  In  March  he  was  offered  the 
post  of  Secretary  for  Foreign  Tongues  to  the  Council  of  State. 
This  post  he  accepted,  and  so  entered  upon  an  active  political 
life  which  was  to  last  ten  years  and  a  half,  until  events  had  begun 
to  shape  themselves  towards  the  Restoration.  All  literary 
business  was  naturally  put  into  his  hands,  and  one  of  the  ironies 
of  fate  was  that  the  author  of  the  Areopagitica  became 
actually  for  a  whole  year  the  official  licenser  of  a  Government 
newspaper,  many  of  the  leading  articles  of  which  were  no 
doubt  written  by  himself. 

In    virtue    of   his    post,    Milton  now  (November  1649)  had 

a  suite  of  rooms    assigned    him    in    Whitehall 

Principal  official        to    be    near    his    official    duties.     During   the 

writings.  c 

first   three  years  of  his  Secretaryship  he  wrote 
practically   no   poetry.     He  drew  up  a  State  paper  (May  1649) 


218  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

in  regard  to  the  Marquis  of  Ormond's  attempt  to  bring  about 
a  reaction  in  favour  of  Charles  II  in  Ireland.  More  important 
was  his  Eikonoklasies  (Image-breaker)  published  in  October 
1649,  an  official  reply  to  the  famous  Eikon  Basilike  (Royal 
Image)  or  Portraiture  of  His  Sacred  Majesty  in  his  Solitudes 
and  Sufferings.  This  book  was  generally  believed  to  have 
been  written  by  King  Charles  I,  and  was  cherished  with  al- 
most religious  reverence  by  all  Royalists,  so  that  Milton's 
pamphlet  was  of  high  political  importance.  The  book  was 
written  by  Dr.  Gauden,  though  it  had  been  submitted  to  Charles 
I,  who  expressly  desired  that  it  should  not  be  published 
as  his  own  composition.  But  Milton's  most  important 
State  paper  was  his  Dffemio  pro  Populo  Anglicano  (Defence 
of  the  English  People)  issued  in  April  165 1,  in  reply  to  a 
defence  of  Charles  I  and  a  violent  attack  on  the  English 
people  which  in  the  previous  year  had  been  published  in 
Holland  by  the  celebrated  Leyden  professor,  Salmasius,  at 
the  instigation  of  Charies  II.  for  a  fee  of  one  hundred  gold 
jacobuses.  Salmasius  1'a  Latinised  version  of  saumaise)  was 
then  the  most  renowned  scholar  in  Europe,  and  his  attack  on 
the  Republic  would  have  been  a  serious  hindrance  to  Crom- 
well's foreign  policy,  had  it  been  left  unanssvered.  Milton 
therefore  felt  that  to  reply  to  it  was  a  sacred  duty;  and  he 
undertook  it,  though  warned  that  it  would  cost  him  his  eyesight. 
But  he  had  his  reward.  The  unknown  Milton  became  even 
better  known  abroad  than  the  'wonderful'  scholar  whom  by 
universal  consent  he  had  annihilated  in  argument,  and.  it 
must  be  added,  fairly  butchered  with  invective.  Milton's  own 
words  in  reference  to  his  sightless  eyes  addressed  to  Cyriack 
Skinner  (Sonnet  xxil)   were  literally  true  :  — 

'What  supports  me,  dost  thou  ask  ? 
The  conscience,  friend,  to  have  lost  them  overplied 
In  liberty's  defence,  my  noble.task, 
Of  which  all  Europe  rings  from  side  to  side.' 

With  Salmasius  crushed  abroad,  and  the  Scotch  army 
routed  at  home  at  Dunbar  and  Worcester,  Cromwell  easily 
secured    the    official    recognition  and  respect  of  all  the  foreign 


MILTON.  210 

powers  ;  so  that  Milton's  services  as  Foreign  Secretary  were 
more  needed  than  ever.  Owing  to  his  blindness  the  work  had 
to  be  done  by  dictation.  Probably  the  habit  ot  mental  con- 
centration acquired  during  the  seven  years  of  total  blindness 
from  1652  to  1659  was  an  important  part  of  the  preparation  for 
writing  Paradise  Lost.  He  had  to  listen  to  long  interviews  and 
discussions  ;  get  a  clear  grasp  of  the  whole,  without  the  help 
of  written  notes ;  and  then  deliver  his  reply,  fully  formed,  to 
his  amanuensis.  Familiarity  with  all  these  details  would 
facilitate  the  subsequent  dictation  of  his  great  poems  ;  and  the 
habit  of  inwardly  visualising  all  the  argumentative  pros  and 
cons  of  State  controversies  no  doubt  strengthened  his  powers 
of  poetic  vision. 

Milton's  next  move  in  1652  was  fiom    his   official    quarters 

to    a    pretty    garden-house    in    Petty    France, 

Removes  to  Westminster,    opening    into  St.    Tames*s  Park. 

Westminster.  r  J 

Here  he  lived  for  eight  years  ;  here  his  youn- 
gest daughter  Deborah  was  born  ;  and  here  his  wife  died.  The 
sonnets  to  Cromwell  and  Vane  were  also  written  in  this  year. 
Milton's  attack  on  Salmasius  naturally  laid  him  open  to  retorts 
in  kind.  Of  these  the  most  important  was  Regii  Sanguinis 
Clamor  ad  Coeluni  adversus  Parricidas  Anglicanos  (Cry  of  the 
King's  Blood  to  Heaven  against  the  English  Parricides), 
published  at  the  Hague  late  in  1652.  It  was  really  written  by 
a  Frenchman,  Pierre  Dumoulin,  afterwards  made  a  Prebendary 
of  Canterbury,  but  professed  to  be  from  the  pen  of  one 
Alexander  More  of  Scottish  extraction.  Milton's  reply  was 
published  in  1654,  Joannis  Miltoni  Angli  pro  Fopulo  Anglic ano 
Defensio  Secunda  (Second  Defence  of  John  Milton,  English- 
man, for  the  English  People)  in  which  he  repaid  the  scurrilous 
abuse  that  had  been  heaped  upon  himself  with  interest,  after 
the  fashion  of  the  times.  More  rejoined  in  another  attack, 
which  Milton  answered  in  his  Joannis  Miltoni  Angli  pro  se 
Defensio  Contra  Alexandrum  Morum  (Defence  of  John 
Milton,  Englishman,  for  himself  against  Alexander  More.) 
These  controversial  pamphlets  are  of  great  interest  for  their 
incidental  revelations  of  Milton's  life  and  character. 


220  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

In  1656   Milton    married    a    second    time.     His    wife    was 

Catharine,  daughter   of   Captain  Woodcock  of 

second  marri-         Hackney.      She    died    in     childbirth     fifteen 

months  afterwards,    her  child  dying  too.     We 

know   of   her  chiefly  through  Milton's  sonnet  On   his    deceased 

Wife  (1658),  from  which  we  may  infer  that  those  fifteen  months 

were    a  brief  oasis    of   domestic   happiness  in    his    otherwise 

troubled  life,  and  that  he  tenderly  cherished  her  memory. 

Throughout    Cromwell's    career    Milton    was    his    devoted 

friend    and   supporter.     He    probably    shared 

Mi-n"  lnd  c1om"      t0    some    extent  the  abstract  scruples  of  Brad- 

wen  ,  sonnets.  r 

shaw  and  Vane  against  any  kind  of  single- 
person  sovereignty,  such  as  Cromwell  undoubtedly  exercised. 
But  he  looked  upon  Cromwell's  personal  government  as  being 
the  closest  possible  approximation  to  an  ideal  republic  that  was 
possible  in  existing  circumstances,  and  accordingly  he  supported 
it.  But  he  differed  from  Cromwell  permanently  and  irrecon- 
cilably on  the  question  of  a  State  Church.  Cromwell  succeeded 
in  establishing  with  very  considerable  efficiency  a  Protestant 
Evangelical  State  Church.  Milton  was  wholly  opposed  to  any 
interference  of  Government  with  religion,  or  to  any  State 
payment  for  religious  ministrations,  a  position  clearly  summed 
up  in  his  two  sonnets  to  Cromwell  and  Vane.  Notwithstanding 
his  divergence  of  opinion  on  this  point,  Milton  was  always 
most  loyal  to  his  chief ;  and  no  doubt  threw  himself  heart  and 
soul  into  the  official  correspondence  with  the  Duke  of  Savoy 
and  other  European  princes,  which,  supported  as  it  was  by  the 
dread  of  Cromwell's  proved  military  power,  put  an  end  to  the 
horrible  persecution  of  the  Protestant  Waldenses.  Milton's 
Sonnet  On  the  Late  Massacre  in  Piedmont  is  a  magnificent 
memorial  of  this  episode.  His  Sonnet  On  his  Blindness  is  an 
equally  noble  memorial  of  his  own  personal  faith.  The 
Sonnet  to  Mr.  Lawrence  and  the  two  Cyriack  Skinner 
show  that  the  blind  poet  was  no  gloomy  ascetic,  but  had  his 
hours  of  cheerful  mirth,  and  found  solace  in  the  devoted 
friendship  of  young  men  like-minded  with  himself. 


MILTON.  221 

Milton's  political  life  came  to  an  end  during  the  troubles 
End  of  his  poiiti-      that  preceded  the    Restoration.     After   Crom- 

cal  life-  well's    death    Milton    hoped  for   a   time   that 

Richard  Cromwell's  protectorate  might  be  strengthened  by  the 
adoption  of  an  anti-Establishment  policy,  which  he  urged  upon 
Parliament  in  a  pamphlet  published  early  in  1659.  But  after 
Richard's  enforced  resignation,  and  the  subsequent  dissensions 
of  the  Republican  leaders,  Milton's  position  was  that  of  a  drown- 
ing man  catching  at  straws.  The  pamphlets  were  disregarded  ; 
the  one  thing  that  he  dreaded,  the  restoration  of  the  Stuart 
dynasty,  to  prevent  which  he  was  ready  to  go  to  almost  any 
length  in  the  way  of  compromise  either  in  Church  or  in  State, 
became  more  and  more  inevitable  ;  until  on  May  25  1660  it  was 
an  accomplished  fact,  and  the  third  act  of  Milton's  life-drama 
began.  Henceforth  he  was  to  be  the  blind  poet,  proscribed  by 
authority,  execrated  by  his  countrymen,  nursing  in  solitude 
and  darkness  the  visions  which  he  was  to  immortalize  in 
song. 

It  is  a  marvel  that  Milton  was  not  hanged.     He  had  indeed 

a   very    narrow   escape.     He  left  his  house  in 

his  escape  from      Petty  France  and  was  kept  in  concealment   by 

Prosecution.  J  f  J 

a  friend  from  May  to  August  1660.  Charles 
II  had  desired  a  general  amnesty  for  all  persons  not  specifi- 
cally excepted  by  name.  A  Bill  of  General  Indemnity  was  accor- 
dingly brought  into  the  Commons  on  May  9th  ;  and  for  the 
next  three  months  the  two  Houses  were  busily  engaged  in  pick- 
ing out  prominent  anti-Royalists  who  were  to  be  proscribed  by 
name.  On  June  1 6th  the  Commons  passed  an  Order  for 
Milton's  arrest  and  indictment,  adding  a  petition  to  the  King 
that  the  Eikonoklastes  and  De/ensio  might  be  burned  by  the 
hangman,  and  Charles  issued  a  proclamation  to  that  effect. 
But  Milton  had  powerful  friends  in  Parliament,  and  when  on 
August  29th  the  Bill  of  Indemnity  finally  received  the  Royal 
assent,  his  name  was  nowhere  mentioned  in  it.  Thenceforward 
he  was  therefore  legally  a  free  man.  He  was,  however,  arres- 
ted later  in  the  year  through  the  excessive  zeal  of  the  Sergeant- 
at-Arms  of  the  House  of  Commons,  but  was  soon  released. 


222  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

For    some   time    after  his  release  Milton  lived  in  Holborn, 
near  Red  Lion  Square,  whence  he  removed  to 

Holborn  and  Je-         t        •       n.  t  i  • 

win  street ;  third  Jewin  Street.  In  these  two  homes  in  succession 
he  watched  the  speedy  overthrow  in  England, 
Scotland,  and  Ireland  of  everything  both  in  religion  and 
politics  that  had  been  dearer  to  him  than  life  itself,  and 
the  unchecked  inroads  of  profligate  debauchery  in  morals, 
manners,  and  literature.  A  few  friends  he  had,  young 
men  such  as  Lawrence  and  Cyriack  Skinner  ;  more  especially 
the  young  Quaker,  Thomas  Ellwood,  who  deemed  it  a  privi- 
lege to  guide  him  in  his  walks,  to  read  to  him,  or  to  write  his 
dictation.  His  two  nephews,  the  Phillipses,  now  earning  their 
own  living  in  London,  occasionally  dropped  in.  When  no 
better  help  was  available.  Milton  made  his  daughters  read  to 
him  in  Latin,  Greek,  Italian,  French,  Spanish,  and  Hebrew, 
languages  of  which  they  did  not  understand  a  word.  They 
revenged  themselves  by  frequently  leaving  him  to  shift  for 
himself,  and  by  conspiring  with  the  maid-servant  to  cheat  him 
in  his  marketings  and  to  sell  his  books.  Milton's  friend  Dr. 
Paget  put  an  end  to  this  deplorable  state  of  things  by  getting 
him  to  marry  (1663)  one  of  his  relatives,  Elizabeth  Minshull. 
She  proved  an  admirable  wife,  and  later  on  wisely  arranged  to 
have  the  daughters  sent  away  from  home  to  earn  their  own 
livelihood  by  embroidery.  During  these  years  in  Holborn  and 
Jewin  Street  Milton  published  nothing  ;  but  he  was  at  work 
upon  the  Latin  Dictionary  and  a  Biblical  Theology  ;  and, 
above  all,  upon  Paradise  Lost. 

Soon    after    his    third    marriage  Milton  left  Jewin  Street  for 
the  Artillery  Walk,  leading  to   Bunhill    Fields. 

Artillery     Walk  ; 

•Paradise  Lost';  It  was  opposite  the  enclosure  where  the  old 
Samsln"Agonis-  London  Trained  Bands  used  to  exercise  ;  had 
a  garden,  and  was  in  fairly  open  country  ;  and 
was  much  more  private  and  secluded  than  his  previous  home  had 
been.  Here  Paradise  Lost,  begun  in  1658,  was  completed.  He 
took  the  finished  MS  to  a  country  cottage  at  Chalfont  St.  Giles, 
which  the  young  Quaker,  Thomas  Ellwood,  had  taken  for  him 
to  retire  to  when  the  Great  Plague  broke  out  in    1665.     Milton 


MILTON  223 

returned  to  London  the  following  year,  the  year  of  the  Great 
Fire,  which  did  not  reach  his  new  abode.  In  1667  Paradise 
Lost  was  published.  It  won  the  hearty  admiration  and  friend- 
ship of  the  poet  Dryden,  who  was  the  acknowledged  chief  of 
the  literature  of  the  Restoration  ;  and  from  that  time  onwards 
Milton's  fame  as  the  author  of  the  greatest  of  epic  poems 
gradually  obliterated  the  memory  of  his  Republican  writings, 
and  his  society  was  sought  after  by  distinguished  visitors  to  an 
extent  that  he  sometimes  found  inconvenient.  In  1671  he 
published  Paradise  Regained,  which  he  himself  always  regard- 
ed as  superior  in  merit  to  its  predecessor.  He  wrote  it,  he 
tells  us,  in  consequence  of  a  suggestion  of  Elwood's  made 
after  reading  the  manuscript  of  Paradise  Lost.  'Thou  hast 
said  much  here  of  Paradise  Lost,  what  hast  thou  to  say  of 
Paradise  Found  ?'  To  this  suggestion  Milton  made  no  answer, 
but  sate  some  time  in  a  muse.  In  the  same  year  he  published 
Samson  A^onistts. 

The  evening  of  his  days  was  peaceful  and  untroubled, 
save  for  occasional  fits  of  the  gout,  but  for 
which  he  used  to  say  his  blindness  would 
have  been  tolerable.  He  passed  his  days  in  study,  in  dictating 
to  his  amanuensis,  in  walking  in  his  garden  or  playing  on  the 
organ,  and  in  cheerful  converse  with  his  friends.  He  attended 
no  church,  nor  did  he  have  any  regular  family  prayers, 
apparently  from  a  Quaker-like  objection  to  all  set  religious 
forms.  His  religious  views  were  embodied  in  his  Treatise 
on  Christian  Doctrine  which,  with  some  of  his  State  papers, 
was  confiscated  by  the  Government  and  left  in  the  State 
Paper  Office  till  1823,  when  it  was  recovered  and  published 
in  1825.  It  proves  him  to  have  been  a  very  original  and 
speculative  thinker  on  matters  both  theological  and  social, 
Milton  died  November  8,  1674,  and  was  buried  beside  his 
father  in  the  church  of  St.  Giles,  Cripplegate,  being  attended 
to  the  grave  by  'all  his  learned  and  great  friends  in  London, 
not  without  a  friendly  concourse  of  the  vulgar'. 


224  A   HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

In  personal  character  Milton  closely  resembled  Words- 
worth, but  with  differences.  If  for  Words- 
HAsfhmanCter:  worth's  living  Nature  we  substitute  the  infal- 
lible Bible,  illustrated  by  the  heathen  classics  ; 
and  if  for  the  Church  of  England  we  substitute  the  doctrines 
of  Independency,  the  parallel  is  nearly  complete.  Each  was 
in  the  main  a  solitary,  austere  prophet,  wrapt  up  in  his  own 
musing?,  and  nobly  scornful  of  the  world  by  which  he  was 
surrounded,  Each  from  early  years  was  conscious  of  a  .divine 
vocation  as  a  prophet  and  a  priest  of  song.  Of  the  two, 
Wordsworth  was  the  more  solitary,  and  more  fully  answered 
to  his  own  description  of  Milton,  'Thy  soul  was  like  a  star 
and  dwelt  apart.'  For  Milton  loved  a  cheerful  hour  in  the 
company  of  congenial  friends,  and  was  cared  for  with  a  filial 
tenderness  by  young  men  like  Ellwood^'and  Marvell.  His 
younger  daughter  Deborah,  who  certainly  would  not  have 
flattered  him,  says  : 'He  was  delightful  company;  the  life  of 
the  conversation,  not  only  on  account  of  his  flow  of  subject, 
but  of  his  unaffected  cheerfulness  and  civility'  ;  and  Dryden 
confirms  the  truth  of  her  estimate.  Milton  and  Wordsworth 
also  closely  resembled  each  other  in  the  severe  purity  of  their 
lives,  and  in  the  Spartan  simplicity  of  their  habits.  Each 
moreover  was  unusually  self-contained  and  impatient  of 
external  authority  and  restraint.  Milton's  rustication  at  College 
corresponds  to  Wordsworth's  half-attempted  suicide  in  a  fit  of 
boyish  rebellion. 

The    aspect  of  Milton's    character    that    repels    us    is   his 
attitude  towards  womanhood.     This  may  have 

Attitwomte°nWardS  been  the  result  of  a  one-sided  home  life. 
Milton  was  a  spoiled  child,  half-worshipped 
by  his  father,  while  of  his  mother  we  hear  nothing.  But  main- 
ly it  was  the  outcome  of  his  Puritan  belief  in  the  strict  appli- 
cability of  the  Pauline  teaching  concerning  the  position  of 
women  to  his  own  day.  Milton's  portraiture  of  Eve  is  in  this 
one  aspect  wholly  inspired  by  St.  Paul's  Epistles.  'He  for 
God  only,  she  for  God  in  him'  is  the  key  to  Milton's  domestic 
life.  We  may,  for  instance,  compare  his  behaviour  to  his 
daughters,   whom    he    drilled    into  reading  machines,  with  his 


MILTON.  225 

behaviour  to  a  young  male  friend  in  the  same  circumstances  : 
'For,  having  a  curious  ear',  writes  Ellwood,  'he  understood  by 
my  tone  when  I  understood  what  I  read,  and  when  I  did  not; 
and  accordingly  would  stop  me,  examine  me,  and  open  the  most 
difficult  passages'.  This  defect  in  Milton's  character  is  all  the 
more  striking  when  we  contrast  with  it  the  far  loftier  and  truer 
ideal  of  womanhood  embodied  in  all  Shakespeare's  plays. 
The  chief  characteristic  of  Milton's  poetry  is  its  majestic 
sublimity  and  its  perfection    of  musical    form. 

(2)  As  a  poet. 

'Reading  Milton'  it  has  been  said,  'is  like 
dining  off  gold  plate  in  a  company  of  kings.'  No  poet  ever 
had  such  a  wealth    of  learning   so    completely   fused    into    the 

stateliness  of  his  song.      Coleridge    says    truly 

(a;  Merits.  ■         ,  .    .  .  .  , 

that  he  is  'not  a  picturesque  but  a  musical  poet  , 
and  Hallam  that  'the  sense  of  vision  delighted  his  imagination, 
but  that  of  sound  wrapped  his  whole  soul  in  ecstasy.'  Tenny- 
son has  aptly  described  him  as  the  'God-gifted  organ-voice  of 
England'.  And  Matthew  Arnold  has  summed  up  Milton's 
distinctive  merit  in  these  words  :  'If  to  our  English  race  an 
inadequate  sense  for  perfection  of  work  is  a  real  danger,  if  the 
discipline  of  respect  for  a  high  and  flawless  excellence  is 
peculiarly  needed  by  us,  Milton  is,  of  all  our  gifted  men,  the 
best  lesson,  the  most  salutary  influence.  In  the  sure  and 
flawless  perfection  of  his  rhythm  and  diction  he  is  as  admir- 
able as  Virgil  or  Dante,  and  in  this  respect  he  is  unique 
amongst  us.  No  one  else  in  English  literature  and  art  pos- 
sesses the  like  distinction.'  His  sense  of  musical  effect  is 
wonderful.  We  recognize  at  once  in  his  writings  the  musician 
as  well  as  the  poet.  At  the  same  time  he  is  careful  not  to 
allow  his  harmony  to  degenerate  into  monotony.  The  sound 
is  always  an  'echo  to  the  sense."     How  well  the  line 

'Can  execute  their  aery  purposes'  (P.  L.  1.  430) 
illustrates  its  meaning  by  the    swift   flow   of  its    metre,   while, 
when  he  describes  the  air  as 

'Brushed  with  the  hiss  of  rustling  wings'  {lb.  768). 
we  can  almost  hear,  as  we    read,  the    rush    and    sweep    of  the 
15 


226  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

diabolic  pinions.  To  prevent  the  monotony  above  alluded  to, 
Milton  not  unseldom  introduces  an  anapaest  or  a  tribrach 
among  his  iambics,  as  in 

'For  those  rebellious  ;    here  their  prison  ordained'  {lb.  71). 
The  dramatic  hypermetrical  line  is  not  common,  as 

'The  fellows  of  his  crime,  the  followers  rather'  {lb.  606). 
So  perfect  indeed,  is  the  music  of  Milton's  lines  that  they  can 
charm  us  even  when  little  more  than  a  string  of  names  ;  to 
some  extent  because  he  always  uses  names  that  carry  with 
them  subtle  associations  of  scholarship  or  romance.  Two 
examples  may  suffice  out  of  a  large  variety  of  such  cadences  : — 

'From  Aroer  to  Nebo,  and  the  wild 

Of  southmost  Abarim  ;  in  Hesebon 

And  Horonaim,  Seon's  realm,  beyond 

The  flowerv  dale  of  Sibma,  clad  with  vines, 

And  Eleale,  to  the  asphaltic  pool.'     P.  L.  I.  407-41 1. 

'Sleep'st  by  the  fable  of  Bellerus  old, 

Where  the  great  vision  of  the  guarded  mount 

Looks  towards  Namancos  and  Bayona's  hold.' 

Lyiidas,   160-2. 
The  defects  of  Milton's  poetry  are  chiefly    those    of  limita- 
tion.    He  had  no  sense    of  humour,    but    for- 

(b)  Defects.  .  c    .,       r 

tunately  was  to  some  extent,  aware  or  the  fact. 
This  failing  led  to  some  of  the  worst  blemishes  in  Paradise 
Lost,  as,  for  instance,  the  ponderous  jocosity  of  the  rebel 
angels.  He  had,  too,  little  dramatic  power.  This  shortcom- 
ing, combined  with  the  rigid  dogmatism  of  the  theology  which 
he  held  in  common  with  the  puritans  of  his  day,  has  left  its 
mark  on  many  parts  of  Paradise  Lost  and  half  justifies  Pope's 
sarcasm  : — 

'Milton's  strong  pinion,  now  not  heaven  can  bound, 
Now  serpent-like  in  prose  he  sweeps  the  ground  ; 
In  quibbles  antjel  and  archangel  join, 
And  God  the  Father  turns  a  sehoul-divine'. 
Milton  was  born  and  brought  up  in    the    heart    of   London, 
and  from  childhood  upwards  books    were    his 
AlN,\u.?.-e„to  chief  delight,      lie  was   twentv-four    when    his 

country  life  at  Horton    began.     Moreover    his 


MILTON.  227 

eyes  were  weak ;  and  the  one  thing  he  would  need  to  do  in 
his  walks  would  be  to  rest  them.  It  could  hardly  therefore 
be  expected  that  he  should  become  in  any  special  degree  a 
poet  of  nature.  We  shall  look  in  vain  for  those  minute  touches 
of  imaginative  nature-study  which  delight  us  in  Wordsworth, 
in  Keats,  and  especially  in  Tennyson.  We  get  broad  sweeps 
of  landscape,  and  general  effects  of  atmosphere  and  sky,  but 
little  picturesque  detail  beyond  what  is  obvious  and  common- 
place. But  Milton's  ear  was  very  sensitive.  And  he  is  always 
most  vivid  in  detail  when  there  is  some  touch  of  sound  associat- 
ed with  an  open-air  scene  ;    as  in  the  lines — 

'Oft  on  a  plot  of  rising  ground 

I  hear  the  far-off  curfew  sound, 

Over  some  wide-watered  shore, 

Swinging  slow  with  sullen  roar'  ; 

He  saw  Nature  chiefly  through  books  :  her  aspects  are 
pictured  for  the  most  part  from  reminiscences  of  the  Greek 
and  Latin  classics.  And  here  we  may  profitably  contrast 
Milton's  descriptions  of  flowers  with  those  of  Shakespeare. 
Shakespeare's  experience  was  the  exact  reverse  of  Milton's  : 
he  lived  an  open-air  life  in  the  country,  but  little  concerned 
with  books  till  he  left  Stratford  for  the  London  stage  about  the 
age  of  twenty-two.  Two  passages  enable  us  without  difficulty 
to  make  a  detailed  comparison.  Milton  gives  us  a  garland  of 
wild  flowers  in  Lycidas  (142-15  i)  : 

'Bring  the  rathe  primrose  that  forsaken  dies, 

The  tufted  crow-toe  and  pale  jessamine, 

The  white  pink,  and  the  pansy  freaked  with  jet, 

The  glowing  violet, 

The  musk-rose  and  the  well-attired  woodbine  ; 

With  cowslips  wan  that  hang  the  pensive  head, 

And  every  flower  that  sad  embroidery  wears  ; 

Bid  amaranthus  all  his  beauty  shed, 

And  daffodillies  fill  their  cups  with  tears, 

To  strew  the  laureate  hearse  where  Lycid  lies.' 

Compare  with  this  Perdita's  list  of  flowers  in   Winter 's    Tale 

<(iv.  4.  1 15-127)  :— 


228  A   HANDBOOK   OF  ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

'Daffodils, 
That  come  before  the  swallow  dares,  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with  beauty  ;  violets  dim, 
But  sweeter  than  the  lids  of  Juno's  eyes 
Or  Cytherea's  breath  ;  pale  primroses 
That  die  unmarried,  ere  they  can  behold 
Bright  Phoebus  in  his  strength— a  malady 
Most  incident  to  maids  ;  bold  oxlip  and 
The  crown  imperial  :  lilies  of  all  kinds, 
The  flower-de-luce  being  one.' 

The  two  passages  are  perfectly  parallel  ;  in  the  first  the 
flowers  are  chosen  as  suitable  to  adorn  the  hearse  of  ill-fated 
Lycidas,  'dead  ere  his  prime' ;  in  the  second  they  are  chosen 
as  emblems  of  youth  and  hope  for  Perdita's  lover  and  her  girl 
companions.  There  is  far  more  of  open-air  reality  about 
Shakespeare's  lines  than  Milton's,  although  Shakespeare  in- 
troduces three  allusions  from  Roman  mythology,  against 
Milton's  single  classicism  in  the  shape  of  his  'amaranth.'  It 
must,  however,  be  allowed  that  Milton's  lines  are  of  uniform 
merit,  while  Shakespeare's  are  very  unequal.  From  the  first 
to  the  seventh  line  Sh-ikespeare  soars  to  a  height  of  aerial 
imagination  in  which  Milton  could  not  even  breathe  ;  but  the 
last  three  lines  are  almost  prosaic.  Milton's  have  throughout 
the  finished  delicate  artificiality  of  a  Japanese  painting.  Ruskin 
justly  condemns  Milton's  'well-attired  woodbine'  {i.e.,  the 
honeysuckle,  with  its  beautiful  head-dress  of  flowers),  which 
he  stigmatizes  as  a  'vulgar  fancy.'  He  continues  :  'In  Milton 
it  happens,  I  think  generally,  and  in  the  case  before  us  most 
certainly,  that  the  imagination  is  mixed  and  broken  with  fancy, 
and  so  the  strength  of  the  imagery  is  part  of  iron  and  part  oi 
clay.  In  Perdita's  lines  the  imagination  goes  into  the  very 
inmost  soul  of  every  flower,... and  never  stops  on  their  spots  or 
their  bodily  shapes,  while  Milton  sticks  in  the  stains  upon  them, 
and  puts  us  off  with  that  unhappy  freak  of  jet  in  that  very  flower 
that  without  this  paper-staining  would  have  been  the  most 
precious  to  us  of  all.     "There  is  pansies,  that's  for  thoughts." 


MILTON.  229 

Milton's  attitude  towards  religion  and  political  life  has  been 
Attitude  towards       ,argelv    illustrated    in    the    details  of    his  life. 
Relpo'i?ti«nd  ^e   narrow    dogmatism  of   his  theology  and 

his  political  partisanship  gained  more  and 
more  hold  on  him  as  life  advanced.  Thus  in  Paradise  Regain- 
ed we  find  that  he  looks  upon  Greek  philosophy  and  secular 
literature  generally  as  unprofitable  and  even  pernicious.  And 
in  both  his  great  poems  he  is  hampered  rather  than  inspired  by 
his  theology.  Hence  Milton's  popularity  is  to  some  extent 
factitious.  He  became  the  champion  and  the  literary  idol  of 
his  co-religionists  as  soon  as  they  were  so  far  emancipated 
from  the  narrowness  of  Puritanism  as  to  appreciate  literature 
for  its  own  sake.  But  in  the  present  day  probably  very  few  of 
his  professed  admirers  have  ever  read  his  longer  poems 
through.  He  is  known  chiefly  by  his  shorter  poems  and  by 
isolated  lines  or  select  passages  of  his  epics. 

The    vague  idea  of  this  poem  had  floated  in  Milton's  mind 

ParndiSeLo.u;  since    about    l639;  [t    was  actually  begun  in 

date,  subject,  1658,    when    Marvell's    appointment   as    his 

and  scope.  ■*  r  * 

coadjutor  in  the  Secretariat  gave  him  more 
leisure  ;  it  was  finished  by  the  summer  of  1665,  and  published 
in  1667.  Its  subject  and  scope  are  given  by  Milton  himself  at 
the  outset.  It  covers  the  whole  space  of  time  from  the  declara- 
tion of  the  Son  as  the  Father's  vice-regent  (v,  600-615),  which 
led  to  the  fall  of  Lucifer  and  so  indirectly  to  the  fall  of  man, 
up  to  the  final  consummation  of  all  things  in  a  new  heaven  and 
earth  (xn,  545-551).  Thus  Ellwood's  criticism  (p.  225)  was 
really  uncalled  for.  Paradise  Regained  is  not  the  sequel  to 
Paradise  Lost,  it  is  merely  the  detailed  amplification  of  one 
particular  episode  in  the  story.  This  agelong  story  is  partly 
described  by  the  poet  himself,  beginning  immediately  after 
Satan's  fall  from  Heaven  (1.  36-58)  and  ending  with  the  expul- 
sion of  Adam  and  Eve  from  Paradise  (xn,  636-649) ;  partly  it 
is  narrated  by  the  'sociable'  angel  Raphael  to  Adam  and  Eve  in 
Paradise  before  their  fall  :  while  the  rest  is  revealed  by  the 
archangel  Michael  to  Adam  before  his  expulsion  from  Paradise 
■(xi,  423— xii,  551). 


230  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Incomparably  the  finest  part  of  this  poem    is    the    story    of 

Superiority  of         Satan  from  his  fall    to    his    discovery    of   the 
Books  i  &  ii.  newly  created  world  (j  and  U)     The  exp]ana. 

tion  is  simple.  Milton  had  no  dramatic  power.  The  rest  of 
Paradise  Lost  (and  almost  the  whole  of  Paradise  Regained)  is 
in  dialogue  form,  where  Milton  has  mainly  to  depend  on  his 
perfection  of  diction  and  verse-form,  or  on  adventitious  sources 
of  interest.  But  in  describing  Satan  he  was  to  a  considerable 
extent  unconsciously  depicting  his  own  feelings  and  situation. 
Though  Paradise  Lost  was  begun  in  1658,  it  is  clear  from  lines 
5CC-2  of  Book  I,  that  the  main  part  of  it  was  written  after  the 
Restoration,  when  Milton  was  lonely,  miserable,  racked  with 
pain,  in  darkness  and  despair  amidst  the  ruin  of  all  his  hopes, 
and  yet  cherishing  a  spirit  of  relentless  rebellion  against  the 
Sovereign  power  that  had  hurled  him  down.  This  personal 
application  explains  also  the  massive  grandeur  of  Samson 
Agonistes,  which  is  almost  a  veiled  autobiography. 

The  great  drawback  to  the  poem    is    the    slavish    literalism 
Defect  w'1^  wn'cn  Milton   fits    his    poem    to    Biblical 

theology  as  interpreted  by  the  Puritans.  No 
true  poet  ever  writes  to  prove  a  thesis,  whereas  Milton  express- 
ly tells  us  that  he  wrote  Paradise  Lost  to  'justify  the  ways  of 
God  to  men."  That  is,  he  deliberately  intended  to  preach  a 
sermon  in  blank  verse.  To  this  extent  he  stands  on  precisely 
the  same  level  as  Pollok  with  his  Course  of  Time  (1827).  For- 
tunately his  poetic  instinct  overpowered  the  instincts  of  the 
schoolmaster  and  the  divine.  But  his  poem  is  immortal  in 
spite  of  its  avowed  aim,  not  because  of  it.  Furthermore,  he 
attempted  what  is  intrinsically  impossible,  viz  :  to  dramatise  the 
Deity.  Here  his  theology  itself  is  at  fault.  His  Deity  is  not 
the  Trinity  worshipped  by  orthodox  Christendom,  Catholic  and 
Protestant  alike,  but  a  mere  Duality,  Father  and  Son.  Macaulay 
has  rightly  praised  the  element  of  dark  indefiniteness  which  is 
so  powerful  a  feature  in  Milton's  description  of  Satan  ;  but 
when  Milton  introduces  the  Almighty  speaking,  and  the  Son 
replying,  it  is  hardly  a  caricature  to  say  with  Taine  that  we  see 
only  a  magnified  portrait  of  'the  theologian  James  I,  very  clever 


MILTON.  231 

at    the    dislinguo,     and,     before    all,     incomparably     tedious.' 
Bagehot  points  to  this  weakness  when  he  says  that  Milton    'has 
made  God  argue.     A.train  of  reasoning  in  such  a  connexion  is 
out  of  place,  and  there  is  a  still  worse  error,  that    if    you    once 
attribute    reasoning  to  Him,  subsequent  logicians  may  discover 
that  he  does  not  reason  very  well.'   'The    defect'   he    continues, 
'of    Paradise    Lost    is  that,  after  all,  it  is  founded  on  a  political 
transaction.     We  have  a  description  of  a  court,  and  of  an  act  of 
patronage  which  is  not  popular,  and  why  should  it  have    been  ? 
Both  Satan's  and  Adam's  offences  are  against  arbitrary  edicts.' 
Satan  himself  is  not  so  much  a  portraiture  of  the    Spirit    of 
Evil    (127)    as   the   embodiment  of  pride,  vast 
Character.  ability,    strong   will,    egotism.      His    character 

seems  to  grow  with  his  position.  He  is  far 
finer  after  his  fall,  in  misery  and  suffering,  with  scarcely  any 
resource  except  in  himself,  than  he  was  originally  in  heaven; 
at  least,  if  Raphael's  description  of  him  can  be  trusted.  No 
portrait  that  imagination  or  history  has  drawn  of  a  revolution- 
ary anarch  is  nearly  so  perfect;  there  is  all  the  grandeur  of  the 
greatest  human  mind,  and  a  certain  infinitude  in  his  circum- 
stances which  humanity  must  ever  want. 

Paradise    Regained,    an   epic  in  four  books,  was  completed 
before  April,  1667,  and  was  published  in  167 1. 
DateaL^Origi'n.'      Tts  title    is  a  reminiscence  of  one  of  the  open- 
ing lines  of  Paradise  Lost. 

'Till  one  greater  man, 
Restore  us,  and  regain  the  blissful  seat.' 
How  its  subject  was  suggested  to  Milton  has  been  told  already 
(p.  225).  Ellwood's  question,  as  H.  Morley  says,  indicated  to 
Milton  that  'the  average  mind  of  a  religious  Englishman 
wanted  yet  more  emphasis  laid  on  the  place  of  Christ  in  his 
religious  system,'  and  hence  he  wrote  this  second  poem  to 
satisfy  a  religious  want. 

In  Paradise  Regained  Milton's  poetic  form,  the  structure  of 

his  verse,  his  skill  in  description,    and    in    the 

p<iradiJ°Lnst°         due  balance  of  thought  and  expression,  reaches 

its    culminating  point;  and  this  is  why  critical 


232  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENOLISH    LITERATURE. 

experts,  with  Milton  himself,  rank  it  higher  than  Paradise  Lost. 
But  there  is  no  doubt  that  it  is  less  interesting  to  general  readers, 
and  even  to  devout  believers  it  must  be  unsatisfactory. 
Milton's  Christian  Doctrine  (p.  225)  proves  him  to  have  been 
distinctly  out  of  harmony  both  with  'Evangelical'  and 
'Catholic'  theology.  The  one  dominating  idea  of  Paradise  Lost 
is  that  salvation  lies  in  obedience  to  law.  Eden  was  lost  by 
one  act  of  disobedience  ;  Eden  must  therefore  be  regained  by 
the  perfect  obedience  of  the  Second  Adam.  The  temptation 
of  Eve  and  Adam  in  the  garden  of  Eden  must  be  paralleled  by 
the  temptation  of  Christ  in  the  wilderness.  But  the  unanimous 
voice  of  Christendom  contradicts  this  view.  Paradise  was 
regained  in  the  mysterious  Passion  of  Christ  upon  the  Cross, 
to  which  the  Temptation  in  the  Wilderness  was  but  a  minor 
preparatory  episode.  A  sublime  and  convincing  poem  might 
have  been  written  had  Milton  confined  himself  strictly  to  the 
Temptation  itself  and  written  it  in  such  a  way  that  the  Per- 
sonality of  the  Tempter  should  have  been  wrapped  in  vague 
and  awful  obscurity,  leaving  it  possible  for  the  reader  to 
interpret  it  either  as  a  voice  without  or  a  voice  within. 

In  recounting  the  Temptations,  Milton  overlooks  one  most 
significant  point.  He  has  taken  the  story 
from  Luke  iv.  1-13.  Yet  he  assumes  that  the 
close  of  the  three  temptations  connoted  the  final  and  complete 
overthrow  of  Satan ;  whereas  Luke  expressly  says  that  the 
devil  departed  from  him  'for  a  season'  implying  his  return. 
Here  Milton  again  contradicts  the  universal  voice  of  Christen- 
dom, which  declares  that  Satan's  final  defeat  came  in  the 
Resurrection.  Further,  Milton's  assumption  that  Christ 
miraculously  stood,  balanced  on  the  tip  of  a  pointed  spire, 
{P.  R.  iv.  561)  is  not  only  ludicrous,  it  is  based  on  a  miscon- 
ception1, and  is  out  of  harmony  writh  the  whole  tenor  of  the 
narrative.  The  account  of  the  Temptation,  as  recorded  in 
the  Gospels,  has  the  beauty  of  antique  simplicity.     As  elabora- 

1  The  'pinnacle'  of  the  Bible  is  misleading  ;  the  Greek  word  means 
a  turret  or  gable,  and  the  place  was  probably  Herod's  royal  portico. 
(Alford). 


MILTON.  233 

ted  by  Milton,  it  becomes  almost  incredible.  And  he  has 
gone  out  of  his  way  to  spoil  the  story ;  for  while  in  Paradise 
Lost,  as  Milton  planned  it,  the  dramatisation  of  the  Deity  was 
inevitable,  in  Paradise  Regained  it  is  superfluous  and  indeed 
incongruous  and  absurd. 

A  fine   piece   of    criticism    by   Lamb    of    two    passages   in 
Paradise    Regained   is  worth  quoting.     Of  the 
Criticism.  elaborate  feast  conjured  up  by  Satan  (n.  338- 

365)  he  writes  :  'I  am  afraid  the  poet  wants 
his  usual  decorum  in  this  place.  Was  he  thinking  of  the  old 
Roman  luxury,  or  of  a  gaudy  day  at  Cambridge  ?  The  whole 
banquet  is  too  civic  and  culinary,  and  the  accompaniments 
altogether  a  profanation  of  that  deep,  abstracted,  holy  scene. 
The  mighty  artillery  of  sauces  which  the  cook-fiend  conjures 
up  is  out  of  proportion  to  the  simple  wants  and  plain  hunger 
of  the  guest.'  Of  ihe  dreams  preceding  this  temptation  (11. 
260-278)  Lamb  says,  'Nothing  in  Milton  is  finelier  fancied  than 
these  temperate  dreams  of  the  divine  Hungerer.'  It  forms  a 
curious  comment  on  the  absence  of  dramatic  power  in  Milton's 
characterizations,  that  Taine  {Hist,  of  Eng.  Lit.)  actually 
quotes  six  lines  from  Christ's  speech  describing  his  own 
boyhood  (P.  R.  1.  201-6)  as  having  been  spoken  by  John 
the  Baptist  ! 

Samson  Agonistes  was  published  in  1671,  and  could    hardly 
have    been  commenced  before  the  completion 
AgZfstls.  of  Paradise  Regained  m    1667.     Milton    him- 

self has  prefaced  his  poem  with  a  description 
of  the  type  of  poetry  to  which  it  belongs,  and  has  shown  how 
it  is  carefully  constructed  on  the  severest  models  of  Greek 
tragedy.  The  rigid  forms  of  that  drama,  which  would  have 
been  unendurable  to  Shakespeare,  suit  Milton's  genius  perfect- 
ly. They  do  not  require,  hardly  indeed  permit,  any  subtlety 
•of  characterisation.  In  the  Agonistes  the  dramatis  personae 
are  few,  and  only  two  of  them  would  call  for  any  genius  if 
acted  on  the  stage.  These  two  characters  are  Samson  and 
Dalila.  The  former  is  largely  Milton's  own  self ;  for  the  latter 
Jiis   own  experiences  with  his  first  wife  and  with  his  mother-in- 


234  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

law  (who  was  a  thorn  in  his  side  all  his  life  long,  though  he 
behaved  with  remarkable  generosity  and  forbearance  to  her) 
would  have  deeply  impressed  him  with  memories  which  easily 
clothed  themselves  in  dramatic  form.  Above  all,  the  nature 
and  the  treatment  of  the  subject  saves  him  from  the  snare  of 
introducing  Divine  or  angelic  personages  ;  and  the  topic,  being 
exclusively  from  the  Old  Testament,  presents  no  theological 
pitfalls.  The  parallelism,  too,  of  the  political  situation  is 
almost  perfect.  Milton  could  thus  throw  his  whole  soul  into 
the  work.  In  writing  this  drama,  he  has  indirectly  conferred 
a  unique  benefit  on  English  literature.  Samson  Agonisles 
alone,  with  perhaps  the  sole  exception  of  Swinburne's  Atnlania 
in  Calydon  (p.  74),  enables  an  ordinary  English  reader  to 
realize  (as  no  translation  of  Aeschylus  or  Sophocles  could 
enable  him)  what  an  Athenian  felt  when  he  was  listening  to 
one  of  those  authors'  immortal  tragedies. 


QUOTATIONS 

Of  Man's  first  disobedience,  and  the  fruit 
Of  that  forbidden  tree,  whose  mortal  taste 
Brought  death  into  the  world,  and  all  our  woe, 
With  loss  of  Eden,  till  one  greater  Man 
Restore  us,  and  regain  the  blissful  seat, 
Sing  heavenly  Muse,  that  on  the  secret  top 
Of  Oreb  or  of  Sinai  didst  inspire 
That  shepherd  who  first  taught  the  chosen  seed 
In  the  beginning  how  the  heavens  and  earth 
Rose  out  of  Chaos.     P.  L.  I.  1-10. 

Things  unattempted  yet  in  prose  or  rhyme.     P.  L.  1.  16. 
What  in  me  is  dark 
Illumine,  what  is  low  raise  and  support  ; 
That  10  the  height  of  this  great  argument 
1  may  assert  eternal  Providence, 
And  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  men.     lb.  22-6. 

Yet  from  those  flames 
No  light,  but  rather  darkness  visible.     lb.   62-63. 


MILTON. 

The  mind  is  its  own  place,  and  in  itself 
Can  make  a  heaven  of  hell,  a  hell  of  heaven.     lb.  254-5. 
Better  to  reign  in  hell  than  serve  in  heaven.     lb.  263. 
Lust  hard  by  hate.     lb.   417. 

Anon  they  move 
In  perfect  phalanx  to  the  Dorian  mood 
Of  flutes  and  soft  recorders.     lb.   549-551. 
Thrice  he  assayed,  and  thrice  in  spite  of  scorn 
Tears  such  as  angels  weep  burst  forth.     lb.  619-20. 

Let  none  admire 
That  riches  grow  in  hell  :  that  soil  may  best 
Deserve  the  precious  bane.     lb.  690-2. 

From  morn 
To  noon  he  fell,  from  noon  to  dewy  eve, 
A  summer's  day  ;  and  with  the  setting  sun 
Dropt  from  the  zenith  like  a  falling  star.     lb.  742-5. 
Satan  exalted  sat,  by  merit  raided 
To  that  bad  eminence.     P.  L.   11.  5-6. 
Oh,  shame  to  men  !  devil  with  devil  damned 
Firm  concord  holds,  men  only  disagree 
Of  creatures  rational.     lb.  496-8. 

(Others)  reason'd  high 
Of  providence,  foreknowledge,  will,  and  fate, 
Fixed  fate,  free  will,  foreknowledge  absolute  ; 
And  found  no  end,  in  wandering  mazes  lost.       lb.   558-561. 

(Satan)  like  a  comet  burned, 
That  fires  the  length  of  Ophiuchus  huge 
In  the  arctic  sky,  and  from  his  horrid  hair 
Shakes  pestilence  and  war.     lb.  708-711. 

Thoughts,  that  voluntary  move 
Harmonious  numbers.     P.  L.  ill.  37-8. 

Thus  with  the  year 
Seasons  return  ;  but  not  to  me  returns 
Day  or  the  sweet  approach  of  even  or  morn, 
Or  sight  of  vernal  bloom,  or  summer's  rose, 
Or  flocks,  or  herds,  or  human  face  divine.     lb.  40-4. 
Dark  with  excessive  bright.     lb.  380. 

At  whose  sight  all  the  stars 
Hide  their  diminished  heads.     P.  L.  iv.  34-5. 
Evil  be  thou  my  good.     lb.  no. 


235 


236  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

(The  Fiend)  with  necessity, 
The  tyrant's  plea,  excused  his  devilish  deeds.     lb.  393-4. 
Imparadised  in  one  another's  arms.     lb.  506. 
With  thee  conversing  I  forget  all  time.     lb.  639. 
Not  to  know  me  argues  yourselves  unknown.     lb.  830. 

Abashed  the  devil  stood 
And  felt  how  awful  goodness  is,  and  saw 
Virtue  in  her  shape  how  lovely.     lb.  846-8. 
So  spake  the  seraph  Abdiel,  faithful  found 
Among  the  faithless,  faithful  only  he.     P.  L.  v.  896-7. 
The  world  was  all  before  them  where  to  choose 
Their  place  of  rest  and  Providence  their  guide. 

P.  L  XII.  646-7. 

Of  whom  to  be  dispraised  were  no  small  praise, 

His  lot  who  dares  be  singularly  good.     P.  Regained  in.  56-7. 

The  childhood  shows  the  man, 

As  morning  shows  the  day.     P.  R.  IV.  220-1. 

Athens,  the  eye  of  Greece,  mother  of  arts 

And  eloquence,     lb.  240-1. 

See  there  the  olive  grove  of  Academe, 

Plato's  retirement,  where  the  Attic  bird 

Trills  her  thick-warbled  notes  the  summer  long.     lb.  244-6. 

Deep  versed  in  books  and  shallow  in  himself.     lb.  327. 

0  dark,  dark,  dark,  amid,  the  blaze  of  noon  ! 

Samson  Agonistes.     80. 
Nothing  is  here  for  tears,  nothing  to  wail 
Or  knock  the  breast  ;  no  weakness,  no  contempt, 
Dispraise  or  blame  ;  nothing  but  well  and  fair 
And  what  may  quiet  us  in  a  death  so  noble.     lb.    1 721-4. 
Calling  shapes,  and  beckoning  shadows  dire, 
And  aery  tongues,  that  syllable  men's  names 
On  sands,  and  shores  and  desert  wildernesses.    Co/nus,  207-9. 
At  every  fall  smoothing  the  raven  down 
Of  darkness  till  it  smiled.     lb.  251-2. 

1  was  all  ear, 

And  took  in  strains  that  might  create  a  soul 

Under  the  ribs  of  death.     lb.  560-2. 

Fame  is  the  spur  that  the  clear  spirit  doth  raise 

(That  last  infirmity  of  noble  mind) 

To  scorn  delights  and  live  laborious  days.     Lya'das,  70-2. 


MILTON.  237 

So  sinks  the  daystar  in  the  ocean-bed, 

And  yet  anon  repairs  his  drooping  head, 

And  tricks  his  beams,  and  with  new-spangled  ore 

Flames  in  the  forehead  of  the  morning  sky.     lb.   168-171. 

Under  the  shady  roof 

Of  branching  elm,  star-proof.     Arcades,  88-9. 

Where  perhaps  some  beauty  lies, 

The  Cynosure  of  neighbouring  eyes.     L  Allegro,  79-80. 

Then  to  the  well-trod  stage  anon, 

Jf  Jonson's  learned  sock  be  on, 

Or  sweetest  Shakespeare,  Fancy's  child, 

Warble  his  native  wood-notes  wild.     lb.   131-4. 

Sweet  bird,  that  shunn'st  the  noise  of  folly, 

Most  musical,  most  melancholy.     //  Pensetoso,  61-2. 

Such  notes  as,  warbled  to  the  string, 

Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek.     lb.  106-7. 

And  storied  windows  richly  dight, 

Casting  a  dim  religious  light.     lb.   159-60. 

They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait.     Sonnet  XIX.   14. 

He  who  would  not  be  frustrate  of  his  hope  to  write  well  here- 
after in  laudable  things  ought  himself  to  be  a  true  poem. 

Apology  for  Smectymnuus. 

As  good  almost  kill  a  man  as  kill  a  good  book  :  who  kills  a 
man  kills  a  reasonable  creature,  God's  image  :  but  he  who  destroys 
a  good  book  kills  reason  itself.     Areopagitica. 

A  good  book  is  the  precious  life-blood  of  a  master-spirit 
embalmed  and  treasured  up  on  purpose  to  a  life  beyond  life.    lb. 

I  cannot  praise  a  fugitive  and  cloistered  virtue,  unexercised 
and  unbreathed,  that  never  sallies  out  and  seeks  her  adversary,  but 
slinks  out  of  the  race  where  that  immortal  garland  is  to  be  run 
for,  not  without  dust  and  heat.  lb. 

Methinks  I  see  in  my  mind  a  noble  and  puissant  nation 
rousing  himself  like  a  strong  man  after  sleep  and  shaking 
her  invincible  locks  ;  methinks  I  see  her  as  an  eagle  mewing  her 
mighty  youth,  and  kindling  her  undazzled  eyes  at  the  full  midday 
beam  ;  purging  and  scaling  her  long-abused  sight  at  the  fountain 
itself  of  heavenly  radiance.  lb. 

Who  ever  knew  truth  put  to  the  worse,  in  a  free  and  open 
encounter  ?  lb. 

Men  of  most  renowned  virtue  have  sometimes  by  transgressing 
most  truly  kept  the  law.    Tetrachordon. 


BUNYAN  (1628-1688.) 

John    Bunyan     was    born     at   Elstow,    near     Bedford,    in 
4_ife  and  writ-  November,  1628.    His  parents  were  in  humble 

circumstances,  his  father  being  a  'brazier'  or 
tinker.  He  learned  reading  and  writing  at  an  ordinary  free 
school  for  the  poor,  and  at  an  early  age  went  into  his  father's 
business.  At  fifteen  years  of  age  he  was  drafted  into  the  Army, 
and  saw  something  of  military  service  on  the  Parliamentary 
side  in  the  Civil  War  ;  experiences  which  he  has  freely  idealis- 
ed in  The  Holy  War.  When  the  army  was  disbanded,  Bunyan 
returned  to  Elstow,  and  there  married  a  wife  as  poor  as  himself. 
She  however  had  two  books,  The  Plain  Mans  Pathway  to 
Heaven,  and  the  Practice  of  Piety,  which  they  read  together, 
and  which  seem  to  have  greatly  influenced  him.  He  became 
much  attached  to  the  outward  forms  of  religion  and  especially 
to  the  services  of  the  Church  of  England.  But  soon  afterwards 
he  went  through  a  profound  religious  experience  which  he  has 
fully  described  in  his  Grace  Abounding.  He  then  joined  the 
Baptist  community  in  1653,  and  soon  became  distinguished 
among  them  as  a  preacher  by  his  fervent  enthusiasm  and  the 
racy  vigour  of  his  addresses.  He  also  wrote  a  book,  Some 
Gospel  Truths  Opened  (1656).  to  controvert  the  special  doctrines 
of  the  Quakers.  His  power  and  eloquence  as  a  preacher  gain- 
ed for  him  such  a  reputation  that  the  authorities  determined  to 
make  an  example  of  him.  He  was  arrested,  and  as  he  refused 
to  pledge  himself  to  give  up  preaching,  he  was  imprisoned  for 
twelve  years  in  Bedford  County  Gaol.  Here  he  wrote  Grace 
Abounding  and  several  other  religious  works.  After  the 
Declaration  of  Indulgence  in  1672  he  was  released,  and  became 
the  regular  minister  of  the  Church  in  Bedford  of  which  he  was 
a  member.  In  1675  the  Declaration  of  Indulgence  was  cancel- 
led and  his  license  to  preach  withdrawn.  He  was  again  arrest- 
ed for  preaching  and  was  imprisoned  for  six  months  in  the 
town  gaol  on  Bedford  Bridge.  Here  he  wrote  the  first  part  of 
his    immortal    Pilgrim's    Progress.     It  was  published  in    1678, 


BUNYAN.  239 

and  was  afterwards  modified  and  enlarged  in  subsequent 
editions.  In  1680  he  published  The  Life  and  Death  of  Mr. 
B adman  ;  in  1682,  The  Holv  War  •  and  in  1684,  the  second 
part  of  The  Pilgrim's  Progress,  in  which  he  tells  how  Chris- 
tian's wife  and  children  followed  him  on  pilgrimage  under  the 
guidance  of  Mr.  Greatheart.  In  1688  he  successfully  under- 
took the  mission  of  reconciling  a  father  and  son  who  h-id  quar- 
relled, but  on  the  return  journey  was  caught  in  a  soaking 
shower,  took  a  chill,  and  died.  He  was  buried  in  London  in 
Bunhill  Fields  burying-ground. 

Bunyan    was   remarkable  for  the  union  in  his  character  of  a 
His  character  :        lovable     childlike     simplicity    with    the    most 
(1)  As  a  man.  fearless    conscientiousness    and    the      sternest 

rectitude.  In  an  age  of  intolerance  and  theological  strife  he 
was  distinguished  by  the  breadth  of  his  charity.  How  deeply 
affectionate  he  was  is  best  shown  by  his  own  words  in  reference 
to  his  imprisonment,  when  he  thought  of  his  poor  blind  child, 
who  lay  nearer  to  his  heart  than  all  besides.  'Oh  the  thoughts 
of  the  hardships  I  thought  my  poor  blind  one  might  undergo 
would  break  my  heart  to  pieces.'  However  firm  in  rebuking 
error  or  sin,  he  was  always  tender  and  considerate  to  individuals. 

Bunyan 's    great    charm    as  a  writer  lies  in  his  vivid  inspira- 
,„,  .  tion,  his  childlike  simplicity,  and  his  unfailing- 

(2)  As  a  writer.  r  J  '  & 

command  of  a  racy,  vigorous  vernacular. 
Above  all,  the  intense  reality  of  his  religious  belief  stamps  its 
impress  on  everything  he  wrote.  He  is  absolutely  sincere  and 
in  earnest,  so  that  all  his  utterances  ring  true.  Macaulay's 
praise  is  fully  deserved  ;  'The  style  of  Bunyan  is  delightful  to 
every  reader,  and  invaluable  as  a  study  to  every  person  who 
wishes  to  obtain  a  wid?  command  over  the  English  language. 
The  vocabulary  is  the  vocabulary  of  the  common  people.  We 
have  observed  several  pages  which  do  not  contain  a  single  word 
of  more  than  two  syllables.  Yet  no  writer  has  said  more  exact- 
ly what  he  meant  to  say.  For  magnificence,  for  pathos,  for 
vehement  exhortation,  for  subtle  disquisition,  for  every  purpose 
of  the  poet,  the  orator,  and  the  divine,  this  homely  dialect  was 
perfectly    sufficient.'     And    he    sums  up  by  saying  that  'during 


240  A    HANDBOOK  OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

the  latter  half  of  the  seventeenth  century  there  were  only  two 
minds  which  possessed  the  imaginative  faculty  in  a  very 
eminent  degree.  One  of  these  minds  produced  Paradise  Lost, 
the  other  The  Pilgrim's  Progress.'  Well  does  Isaac  D'Israeli 
call  Bunyan  'the  Spenser  of  the  people.' 

Bunyan 's   greatest   works    are    The  Pilgrim's  Progress  and 
The  Holy   War,  which  is,  as  an  allegory,  more 
'  ■,'^Tnoiy'  perfect  in  detail  than  the    former.     The    latter 

describes  the  soul  of  man  under  the  image  of 
a  city,  surrounded  by  walls  whose  entrances  and  Eye-gate,  Ear- 
gate,  Feel-gate,  etc.  (the  senses).  The  different  faculties  of 
the  soul  are  personified  as  officials  of  the  town  ;  as,  for  ins- 
tance, the  conscience  is  'Air.  Recorder.'  Diabolus  (Satan)  gets 
possession  of  the  city,  which  is  afterwards  delivered  from  his 
tyranny  by  the  'holy  war'  waged  against  Diabolus  by  the  Divine 
Army.  The  allegory  is  kept  up  throughout,  but  as  a  story  it  is 
far  less  interesting  than  The  Pilgrim's  Progress.  This  is  only 
half  allegorical  ;  a  great  deal,  (especially  the  Second  Part)  is 
hardly  allegorical  at  all.  The  one  vein  of  allegory  running 
through  it  is  the  scriptural  comparison  of  tlie  Christian  life  to 
a  pilgrimage  ;  of  death  to  a  deep  river  ;  and  of  Heaven  to  a 
glorious  city  beyond  that  river.  Indeed  the  great  charm  of  the 
book  lies  just  in  this,  that  Bunyan  allegorizes  as  little  as  pos- 
sible :  and  where  he  does  allegorize  he,  like  Langland,  possess- 
es the  faculty  of  making  his  allegorical  figures  thoroughly 
human  and  lifelike.  Most  of  the  story  might  almost  be  des- 
cribed as  a  romantic  religious  novel ;  bui,  if  so  described,  it  is 
a  novel  the  interest  of  which  lies  in  its  truth  to  nature  and  in 
the  profound  importance  of  the  ideals  which  it  clothes  in  living 
forms.  M.  Taine  has  admirably  said  :  '  Bunvan  has  the 
copiousness,  the  tone,  the  ease,  and  the  clearness  of  Homer  ; 
he  is  as  close  to  Homer  as  an  Anabaptist  tinker  could  be  to 
a  heroic  singer,  a  creator  of  gods  ;  nay,  he  is  nearer.  Before 
the  sentiment  of  the  sublime,  inequalities  are  levelled.  The 
depth  of  emotion  raises  peasant  and  poet  to  the  same 
eminence  ;  and  here  also  allegory  stands  the  peasant  in  stead. 
It  alone  can  paint  heaven.' 


BUNYAN.  241 

QUOTATIONS. 

( The  pilgrims,  Christian  and  Hopeful,  prisoners  in  Doubling 
Castle). 

Now  a  little  before  it  was  day,  good  Christian,  as  one  half 
amaz-d,  brake  out  in  this  passionate  speech  :  What  a  fool  (quoth 
he)  am  I,  thus  to  lie  in  a  stinking  dungeon,  when  I  may  as  well 
walk  at  liberty  !  I  have  a  key  in  my  bosom,  called  Promise,  that 
will,  I  am  persuaded,  open  any  lock  in  Doubting  Castle.  Then 
said  Hopeful,  Thai's  i^ood  news,  good  brother,  pluck  it  out  of  thy 
bosom,  and  try. 

Then  Christian  pulled  it  out  of  his  bosom  and  began  to  try  at 
the  dungeon-door,  whose  bolt  (as  he  turned  the  key)  gave  back, 
and  the  door  flew  open  with  ease,  and  Christian  and  Hopeful  both 
came  out.  Then  he  went  to  the  outer  door  that  leads  into  the 
Castle-yard,  and  with  his  key  opened  that  door  also.  After,  he 
went  to  the  iron  gate,  for  that  must  be  opened  too  ;  but  that  lock 
went  very  hard,  yet  the  key  did  open  it.  Then  they  thrust  open 
the  door  to  make  their  escape  with  speed,  but  that  gate,  as  it 
opened,  made  such  a  cracking,  that  it  waked  Giant  Despair,  who 
hastily  rising  to  pursue  his  prisoners,  felt  his  limbs  to  fail  ;  for  his 
fits  took  him  again,  so  that  he  could  by  no  means  go  after  them. 
Then  they  went  on,  and  came  to  the  King's  highway,  and  so  were 
safe,  because  they  were  out  of  his  jurisdiction. 

Pilgrim's  Progress,  Part  I. 

One  leak  will  sink  a  ship,  and  one  sin  will  destroy  a  sinner. 

Ib.,  Part  II. 

He  that  is  down,  need  fear  no  fall, 

He  that  is  low  no  pride  ; 
He  that  is  humble  ever  shall 

Have  God  to  be  his  guide. 

lb.  ib.  (The  Shepherd  Boy's  Song). 

Some  things  are  of  that  nature  as  to  make 
One's  fancy  chuckle,  while  his  heart  doth  ache. 

Ib.  ib.  Preface. 

Then  read  my  fancies,  they  will  stick  like  burs. 

The  Author 's  Apology. 


16 


DRYDEN  (1631-1700) 

John    Dryden,    a    leading   poet    of    the    second    rank,    the 

greatest    of    English    satirists    and    almost  the 

Education  founder      of      literary     criticism,      was     born 

August      9th,      1 63 1      at      Aldwinkle,      near 

Oundle,    Northamptonshire.     His    father    was  the  younger  son 

of  a  baronet,  Sir  Erasmus  Dryden  ;  his    mother    was    daughter 

of   the    Vicar  of  Aldwinkle.     At  twelve  years  of  age  he  entered 

Westminster  School,    about    1642,    and    there    had    the    great 

advantage    of   the    judicious    care   of   the  great  head-master  of 

that  century,  Busby,    who    wisely    excused   him    much    of    the 

usual    classical    drudgery,    and    encouraged    him    to    translate 

Roman    poets    into    English    verse.     Dryden     cherished    his 

master's  memory    with    deep    affection.     In    1650    he    entered 

Trinity    College,   Cambridge,  and  was  in  that  year  elected  to  a 

Westminster  Scholarship  there.     It    is    recorded    that    on    one 

occasion    he    was  punished  for  some  breach  of  the  regulations, 

and    showed   a  rebellious    spirit.     He    took    his    B.A.    degree 

in  1654. 

Dryden's  father  died  in  1654,  and  in  consequence  the  future 
poet  entered  upon  a  small  inheritance  in  his 
A  Paar\t™ent'  native  county.  But  he  did  not  reside  there. 
Apparently  he  setded  in  London,  hoping  that 
his  cousin,  Sir  Gilbert  Pickering's  influence  with  Cromwell 
might  secure  him  some  appointment,  since  the  Drydens  and 
the  Pickerings  (Dryden's  mother's  family)  were  strong  Parlia- 
mentarians. In  1658  Cromwell  died,  and  soon  afterwards 
Dryden  began  his  poetic  career  by  publishing  his  Heroic 
Stanzas  on  the  Death  of  the  Lord  Protector  (1659). 

After   the    Restoration,    Dryden    attached    himself   to   the 
Royalist    side,    and    welcomed    the    return  of 
Charles    II    by    his   Asircca   Redux  (1660)  his 
Panegyric  on   the    Coronation    (1661)    and    his    Epistle    to    the 
Lord    Chancellor    (1662).     These    poems   are    laboured  imita- 
tions   of    Waller,  Denham,   Cowley,    and  Davenant.     In    1662 


DRYDEN. 


243 


Dryden  was  admitted  a  member  of  the  Royal  Society,  and 
soon  afterwards  wrote  some  verses  showing  his  interest  in 
those  scientific  pursuits  which  were  patronised  by  Charles  II. 
These  verses  are  considered  to  be  the  first  that  show  any  origi- 
nal merit. 

In  December  1663,  he  married  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard, 

the   eldest   daughter   of  the  Earl  of  Berkshire. 

There  were  three  children  of  this  marriage, 
which  does  not  appear  to  have  been  a  very  happy  one.  But 
it  must  be  remembered  that  the  sarcasms  on  wedded  infelicity 
so  common  in  Dryden's  plays  and  poems  were  a  necessary 
part  of  the  fashionable  cant  of  the  Restoration.  Anything  in 
the  vein  of  Spenser's  Amorelti,  any  delineations  of  real  domes- 
tic affection,  would  have  been  regarded  as  detestable  Puritan 
hypocrisy.  Dryden  half-heartedly  swam  with  the  polluted 
stream  of  Charles  II' s  Court. 

To  earn  a  living  Dryden  found  it  necessary  to   wiite   plays. 

He    disliked   the  task,  and  was  well  aware  that 
Dramatist.  ne  na(*  neither  the  humour  nor   the   ready    wit 

required  for  comedy.  His  first  play  The 
Wild  Gallant  (1663)  fell  flat.  Pepys  described  it  as  the 
poorest  thing  he  had  ever  seen.  In  his  next  play  The  Rival 
Ladies  (1664)  he  succeeded  better,  and  Pepys  was  much 
pleased  with  it.  In  the  dedication  to  the  Earl  of  Orrery, 
Dryden  defended  his  use  of  rhymed  verse  in  this  play.  His 
brother-in-law,  Sir  Robert  Howard,  entered  into  a  controversy 
with  him  on  the  question,  and  this  led  to  his  Essay  of  Drama- 
tic Poesy  ([668),  which  was  the  first  attempt  in  English  litera- 
ture at  adequate  literary  criticism.  In  1664  he  assisted  Sir 
Robert  Howard  in  writing  The  Indian  Queen,  which  was  high- 
ly successful.  Dryden  had  now  found  out  the  type  of  play 
that  best  suited  his  genius — the  'heroic  play'  in  which  'love  and 
valour'  are  the  subject,  while  bombast  and  rhetoric  take  the 
place  of  passion  and  of  dramatic  characterisation.  The  chief 
merit  of  these  plays  lay  in  the  opportunity  they  gave 
Dryden  for  carrying  on  elaborate  arguments  in  rhymed 
dialogue.      This     was     admirably     adapted     to    his    genius ; 


244  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

for  he  had  an  unrivalled  command  of  terse  epigram 
and  sonorous  rhythm.  Of  these  plays  t he  best  are  The 
Indian  Emperor  (1665),  The  Conquest  of  Granada  (1670) 
and  Aurungzebe  (1675),  When  the  theatres  were  closed  on 
account  of  the  plague,  Dryden  retired  to  his  father-in-law's 
seat,  Charlton  Park,  in  Wiltshire,  where  he  wrote  his  fine 
Annus  Mirabilis,  an  epitome  of  the  history  of  1 666,  the  year 
of  the  war  with  the  Dutch  and  of  the  Fire  of  London. 

In    August    1670   Dryden    was    appointed    Poet    Laureate 
Poet  Laureate ;        as     well     as     Historiographer      Royal.     The 
The  Rehearsal.  former  post  appears  to  have    exposed    him    to 

the  attacks  of  rival  wits.  George  Villiers,  Duke  of  Buckingham 
(1627-1688),  with  some  help  from  lesser  poets  of  the  day, 
concocted  a  witty  burlesque,  The  Rehearsal  (1671),  in  which 
Dryden  himself,  and  Dryden's  whole  school  of  rhyming  heroic 
plays,  were  mercilessly  satirised.  All  London  was  convulsed 
with  laughter  over  the  actor  Lacy's  clever  impersonation  of 
'Bayes',  the  central  figure,  in  which  Dryden  was  taken  off 
to  the  life.  The  poet,  however,  wisely  took  no  notice.  Later 
he  became  involved  in  a  quarrel  with  the  Earl  of  Rochester, 
who  had  used  his  influence  at  Court  to  set  up  a  wretched 
dramatist,  Settle,  as  Dryden's  dramatic  rival.  On  this  occasion 
Dryden  fared  worse,  being  cudgelled  by  masked  bullies  hired 
by  the  Earl. 

Dryden  tells  us    in    his    Essay    on    Satire    that    he    greatly 

desired,    instead   of   writing  second-rate  plays,. 

to  give  the  world  some  worthy  heroic  poem. 
The  subject  of  King  Arthur  fascinated  him,  as  it  had  done 
Milton.1  But  he  still  had  to  write  for  a  livelihood.  In  his  next 
plays,  however,  he  changed  his  methods.  All  for  Love  (1677-8) 
founded  on  Antony  and  Cleopatra  and  avowedly  written  'in 
the  style  of  the  divine  Shakespeare',  proved  a  great  success. 
Still  more  successful  was  The  Spanish  Friar  (1681),  in  which 
he  gratified  the  popular  passion  over  the  supposed  'Popish 
Plot'  by  virulent  attacks  on  the  Roman  Catholic  clergy  and  the 
political  faction  which  favoured  the  Duke  of  York's  succession 


1  Cf.  Scott,  Marmion,  Introduction  to  Canto  I. 


DRYDEN.  245 

to  the  throne  in  spite  of  his  being  an  avowed  Catholic.  His 
greatest  tragedy,  Don  Sebastian,  was  produced  in  1689.  Love 
Triumphant  (1694),  an  unsuccessful  comedy,  was  his  last 
contribution  to  the  sta°:e. 

Though     Dryden      never      attained     real     eminence    as    a 
dramatist,    the     skill    he    thus  acquired  in  the 

Satires.  .  .  ,  ,  •  . 

composition  of  terse,  vigorous,  heroic  rhyme 
stood  him  in  good  stead  in  his  satires,  in  which  his  genius  at 
last  found  its  full  scope.  The  excited  condition  of  public 
political  feeling  gave  him  an  admirable  opportunity,  resulting  in 
the  brilliantly  successful  poem,  Absalom  and  Achitophel,  the 
first  part  of  which  was  published  in  November  168 1,  and  the 
second  part  in  the  following  November.  The  Medal  (1682)  was 
written  (Tonson  said)  at  the  suggestion  of  Charles  II,  to 
satirise  the  Whigs,  who  had  caused  a  medal  to  be  struck  in 
honour  of  Shaftesbury's  acquittal  by  the  Grand  Jury  of  the 
charge  of  high  treason.  In  Mac  Flecknoe  (1682),  Dryden 
bitterly  replied  to  a  scurrilous  attack  by  a  Whig  dramatist, 
Shadwell,  who  afterwards  became  Poet  Laureate  in  1689, 
when  Dryden  forfeited  that  post  at  the  Revolution.  Religio 
Laid,  a  religious  poem,  in  which  in  a  letter  to  a  friend 
he  defends  the  broad,  liberal  theology  of  the  Church  of 
England,  appeared  at  the  same  time  with  the  concluding  part 
of  Absalom  and   Achitophel. 

At  this  time  Dryden  was  very  poor,  and  in  bad  health.     An 
appeal  to  Rochester  brought  him  the  appoint- 

Translations.  .    _    ,,  .   .  -  ,_,  .         _ 

ment  of  Collectorship  or  Customs  in  the  Port 
of  London  (1683).  In  1  684  he  began  those  translations  from 
the  classics  which  brought  him  later  both  fame  and  profit.  His 
translation  of  the  Satires  of  Juvenal  and  Persius  was  published  in 
1693,  with  the  valuable  Essay  on  Satire  as  a  preface.  Between 
1693  and  1697  he  translated  the  whole  of  Virgil,  a  version 
which  has  become  as  standard  a  book  as  Pope's  Homer,  and 
to  which  he  prefixed  his  Essay  on  Epic  Poetry. 

Charles  II    died    in    February,     1685,    and    was    officially 

Conversion  to         lamented   by    Dryden    as    Poet  Laureate  in  a 

Romamsm.  conventional  elegy.     Eleven  months  after  the 


246  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

accession  of  James  II,  Dryden  publicly  avowed  his  conversion 
to  the  Church  of  Rome  by  attending  Mass  with  his  two  sons. 
Soon  afterwards  he  became  involved  in  a  controversy  with  the 
Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  which  subsequently  led  to  the  publication  of 
his  greatest  poem.  The  Hind  and  the  Panther,  referred  to 
below.  The  form  of  this  poem  easily  laid  itself  open  to 
satirical  reply ;  and  its  author  was  much  chagrined  by  a  clever 
parody  on  it,  The  Hind  and  the  Panther  Transversed,  produced 
immediately  afterwards  by  two  rising  wits  of  the  Whig  •  party, 
Prior  and  Montague.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  Dryden 
was  sincere  in  his  conversion ;  he  gained  nothing  bv  it,  and 
indeed  lost  everything  at  the  Revolution. 

Soon  after  the  publication  of  his  Virgil,  Dryden  brought 
Odes  and  Fables ;  out  ri>s  famous  Alexander's  Feast  (1697), 
which  is,  however,  inferior  both  to  the  earlier 
Song  for  St.  Cecilia's  Day  (1687),  and  to  the  Ode  to  the 
Memory  of  Mrs.  Anne  Killigrew,  who  died  in  1685.  The  last 
literary  work  of  his  life  was  a  series  of  Fables  for  the  publisher 
Tonson.  In  these  he  versified  several  of  Boccacio's  stories,, 
and  freely  reproduces  and  modernises  some  of  the  Tales  from 
Chaucer.  The  preface  to  the  book  contains  a  valuable 
criticism  on  the  style  and  character  of  Chaucer's  poems, 
with  candid  references  to  his  own  critics.  For  these 
Fables  Dryden  received  a  very  meagre  remuneration.  His 
eldest  son  Charles  had  to  return  home  invalided  from  his  post 
at  Rome  in  the  household  of  the  Pope.  This  added  to  his 
anxieties,  burdened  as  he  was  himself  not  only  by  straitened 
means  but  by  a  painful  illness.  He  died  May  1,  1700,  and  was 
buried  in  Westminster   Abbey. 

Dryden  personally  appears  to  have    been    most   amiable,    a 
Character:  (D         fond     father   and    a    good    friend.     When  his 
As  a  man.  eldest  son  came  home,  Dryden    wrote    to    his 

publisher  '  If  it  please  God  that  I  die  of  over-study,  I  cannot 
spend  my  life  better  than  in  preserving  his.'  His  forbearance 
under  the  ridicule  of  the  Rehearsal  shows  him  to  have  been  un- 
usually self-controlled.  Considering  how  opposed  he  was  both 
in  politics  and  religion  to  the  Puritans,  his  friendship  for  Milton 


DRYDEN.  247 

and  his  prompt  and  hearty  recognition  of  his  genius  proves 
him  to  have  been  singularly  unprejudiced  and  free  from 
literary  jealousies.  The  sincerity  of  his  attachment  to  Catholic- 
ism has  been  already  remarked  upon  ;  and  he  showed  a  fine 
humility  in  acknowledging  the  justice  of  Jeremy  Collier's 
savage  attack  on  the  indecency  of  many  of  his  earlier  comedies  : 
'  If  he  be  my  enemy,  let  him  triumph.  If  he  be  my  friend,  and 
I  have  given  him  no  personal  occasion  to  be  otherwise,  he  will 
be  glad  of  my  repentance.' 

Macaulay    declares    that    as   a  satirist  Dryden  has  rivalled 
Juvenal.  '  As  a  didactic  poet  he  might  perhaps 

(2)  As  a  poet.  .  ,  ,  ,.       .  .  ,.     . 

with  care  and  meditation  have  rivalled 
Lucretius.  Of  lyric  poets  he  is,  if  not  the  most  sublime,  the 
most  brilliant  and  spirit-stirring.  But  Nature  had  denied  to 
him  the  dramatic  faculty.'  Johnson's  verdict  is,  '  perhaps  no 
nation  ever  produced  a  writer  that  enriched  his  language  with 
such  a  variety  of  models.  To  him  we  owe  the  improvement, 
perhaps  the  completion,  of  our  metre,  the  refinement  of  our 
language,  and  much  of  the  correctness  of  our  sentiments.' 
Wordsworth  remarked  of  him,  with  perfect  truth,  that  there  is 
not  a  single  image  from  nature  in  the  whole  of  his  works.  Add 
to  this  that  '  He  is,'  as  A.  W.  Ward  says,  '  without  lyric  depth 
and  incapable  of  true  sublimity — a  quality  which  he  revered  in 
Milton.  But  he  is  master  of  his  poetic  form — more  especially 
of  that  heroic  couplet  to  which  he  gave  a  strength  unequalled 
by  any  of  his  successors,  even  by  Pope,  who  surpassed  him  in 
finish.'  Gray's  lines  (Progress  of  Poesy,  105-6)  describing 
this  couplet  are  well-known  : — 

"  Two  coursers  of  ethereal  race, 

With  necks  in  thunder  clothed,  and  long-resounding  pace  ' 

To  this  should  be  added  the  witness  of  Pope,  who  says  (Ep. 
I.  ii.  268-9)  that — 

'  Dryden  taught  to  join 

The  varying  verse,  the  full-resounding  line, 

The  long  majestic  march,  and  energy  divine.' 
Lowell  has  pointed  out  one  of  Dryden's  chief    merits  :  •  To 
read    him    is   as   bracing  as  a  north-west  wind.     He  blows  the 


248  A    HANDBOOK  OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

mind  clear.  His  phrase  is  always  a  short-cut  to  his  sense.  He 
had,  beyond  most,  the    gift  of   the  right  word.' 

Dryden    claimed  as  a  mark  of  his  satire  a  'fineness  of    rail- 
lery'which  he  thought  need    not    be   regarded 

His  satire  com-  0 

pared  with  as  offensive,  since  'a  witty  man  is  tickled  while 

Podg's 

he  is  hurt  in  this  manner.'  His  satire  indeed 
has  not  the  venom  of  Pope's,  who  certainly  never  conceived  of 
his  victims,  however  'wity,'  as  being  'tickled'  by  his  poisoned 
rapier  thrusts.  Dryden's  immense  vigour  of  style  and  consum- 
mate ease  of  expression  give  his  satirical  portraits  an  intense 
vividness  and  a  rounded  completeness  which  Pope  seldom 
attains.  Dryden's  satire  has  a  broader  application  than  Pope's; 
his  character  sketches  may  not  be  drawn  with  Pope's  ingenious 
elaboration,  but  they  are  fitted  to  stand  as  types,  while  Pope's 
for  the  most  part  apply  only  to  individuals.  In  Pope's  attacks 
the  reader  feels  the  presence  of  a  strong  personal  element ; 
Dryden's  strokes  are  more  convincing  and  effective,  because 
the  satirist  himself  remains  calm  and  cool.  Dryden's  satire  is 
kept  within  due  limits  and  appeals  to  the  reason  ;  Pope's  is 
often  exaggerated  and  appeals  to  the  passions. 

Dryden  may  almost  be  called  the  father  of  modern  prose. 
(3>  As  a  prose-        1°  1^q  new  style  he  was  preceded  by  Tillotson 

writer.  an(j  n-,s  COmpeers,  but  Dryden  laid  its   founda- 

tions broader  and  deeper  in  his  prose  writings.  He  handed 
down  to  his  successors  the  clear  and  measured  sentence,  free 
from  involutions  and  qualifications  and  from  those  Latin  cons- 
tructions of  which  the  writers  of  his  age  were  so  fond.  He 
made  the  sentence,  and  not  the  paragraph,  the  unit  of  prose 
style. 

Dryden's  two  great  poems  are  Absalom  and  Achilophel  and 
Absalom  and  The  Hind  and  the  Panther.     The  first  of  these 

Achitopkd.  jg  vjrtually  a  political  pamphlet,    in  which    the 

author  uses  his  most  powerful  weapon,  his  trenchant,  epigram- 
matic heroic  rhyme.  It  is  a  very  thinly-veiled  allegory,  in 
which  the  exciting  events  of  the  time  are  described  by  an 
ingenious  and  apt  scriptural  parallel.  A  political  crisis  had 
come  about  which  was  almost   as    serious    as   that   which    had 


DRYDEN.  249 

led  to  the  Civil  War.  The  nation  was  wild  with  terror  and 
suspicion  engendered  by  Titus  Oates's  pretended  '  Popish 
Plot';  Shaftesbury  and  the  Commons  were  determined  to 
bar  James's  succession  to  the  crown  by  the  '  Exclusion  Bill  '  ; 
and  Charles's  natural  son,  the  Duke  of  Monmouth,  was  put 
forward  as  the  Protestant  heir  to  the  throne.  The  King  dissol- 
ved Parliament,  sent  Shaftesbury  to  the  Tower  to  be  tried  for 
high  treason,  and  with  the  secret  help  of  France  resolved  to 
rule  as  despotically  as  Charles  I.  Dryden  threw  the  whole 
weight  of  his  ability  upon  the  Court  side.  Charles  is  King 
David,  whose  first  wife  Michal  (like  Charles's  Queen)  had  no 
children.  But  the  'man  after  Heaven's  own  heart  had  plenty 
of  other  wives  and  concubines,  by  whom  he  'scattered  his 
Maker's  image  through  the  land.'  Chief  among  these  is  Absalom 
(the  Duke  Monmouth),  who  is  urged  by  Achitophel  (Shaf- 
tesbury) to  aspire  to  the  Crown.  All  the  political  leaders  on 
either  side  are  ingeniously  fitted  in  to  the  scriptural  story  : 
thus  Barzillai  is  the  Duke  of  Ormond  ;  Saul,  Oliver  Cromwell ; 
Doeg,  the  poet  Settle;  Ishbosheth,  Richard  Cromwell  ;  and 
Zimri,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham.  Hebron  is  Scotland;  Jerusa- 
lem, London ;  and  the  Jebusites  are  the  Roman  Catholics. 
Dryden's  skill  in  satire  is  wonderful ;  every  allusion  stings. 
The  poem  as  first  issued  is  really  complete,  but  Nahum  Tate 
afterwards  wrote  a  Second  Part,  to  which  Dryden  contributed 
200  lines  out  of  1140. 

The  Hind  and  the  Pa?ither,  was  written  soon  after  his  con- 
jee Hind  and  version  to  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  pro- 
the  Panther.  bably  in  all  sincerity  as  his  own  confession 
of  faith.  It  is  not  an  allegory,  but  a  fable.  In  it  he  attempts 
to  vindicate  King  James's  claim  to  the  dispensing  power,  which 
led  to  his  famous  'Declaration  of  Indulgence,'  and  ultimately 
to  the  Revolution.  Dryden's  aim  is  to  show  that  Romanism 
is  identical  with  true  Christianity,  and  to  satirise  the  errors  and 
divisions  of  Protestants.  The  Church  of  England  is  the  Panther; 
the  Church  of  Rome  is  the  'milk-white  hind,  immortal  and 
unchanged,... often  forced  to  fly,  And  doomed  to  death,  though 
fated  not  to  die,'  The  'bloody  Bear'  represents  the  Independents  ; 


250  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

the  hare,  the  Quakers ;  the  ape,  the  Freethinkers  ;  the  boar, 
the  Baptists ;  the  fox,  the  Arians  or  later  Socinians 
(Unitarians)  ;  and  the  wolf,  the  Presbyterians.  The  first 
part  is  taken  up  with  a  satirical  description  of  these  various 
animals;  the  second  and  third  parts  with  a  long  argumentative 
discussion  between  the  Hind  and  the  Panther,  in  which  Dryden 
endeavours  to  expose  the  futility  of  the  spiritual  pretensions  of 
the  Church  of  England.  For  wit  and  vigour  of  expression  this 
satirical  fable  is  unrivalled  in  controversial  literature.  In  its 
versification  Pope  declared  it  to  be  the  best  of  all  Dryden's 
works.  But  undoubtedly  its  form  is  ill-chosen.  An  allegory 
becomes  tedious  if  it  be  prolonged  ;  and  a  lengthy  argument 
partakes  of  the  ridiculous  when  put  into  the  mouths  of  animals. 
A  fable  cannot  be  too  short,  and  serious  reasoning  is  essentially 
inappropriate  to  it. 


QUOTATIONS 

None  but  the  brave  deserves  the  fair. 

Alexander's  Feast,  15. 

Fought  all  his  battles  o'er  again  ; 

And  thrice  he  routed  all  his  foes,  and  thrice  he  slew  the  slain. 

lb.  67-8. 
A  fiery  soul,  which,  working  out  its  way, 
Fretted  the  pigmy  body  to  decay, 
And  o'er — informed  the  tenement  of  clay. 

Absalom  &*  Achifophel,   1.    156-8. 
Great  wits  are  sure  to  madness  near  allied, 
And  thin  partitions  do  their  bounds  divide. 

lb.   163-4. 
A  man  so  various  that  he  seemed  to  be 
Not  one,  but  all  mankind's  epitome  : 
Stiff  in  opinions,  always  in  the  wrong, 
Was  everything  by  starts,  and  nothing  long  ; 


DRYDEN.  251 


But  in  the  course  of  one  revolving  moon 
Was  chymist,  fiddler,  statesman,  and  buffoon  ; 
Then  all  for  women,  painting  rhyming,  drinking, 
Besides  ten  thousand  freaks  that  died  in  thinking. 


o  • 


In  squandering  wealth  was  his  peculiar  art  ; 
Nothing  went  unrewarded  but  desert, 
Beggared  by  fools  whom  still  he  found  too  late, 
He  had  his  jest,  and  they  had  his  estate. 

lb.  545-562  (of  Buckingham). 
And  whistled  as  he  went  for  want  of  thought. 

Cymon  and  Iphigenia,  85. 
Better  to  hunt  in  fields  for  health  unbought 
Than  fee  the  doctor  for  a  nauseous  draught. 
The  wise  for  cure  on  exercise  depend  ; 
God  never  made  his  work  for  man  to  mend. 

Epistle  to  Johfi  Dry  den,  92-5. 
And  kind  as  kings  upon  their  Coronation  day. 

Hind  and  Panther,  Part  I.  271. 
From  harmony,  from  heavenly  harmony, 
This  universal  frame  began  ; 
From  harmony  to  harmony 
Through  all  the  compass  of  the  notes  it  ran, 
The  diapason  closing  full  in  Man, 

Song  for  St.  Cecilia's  Day,  1 1  - 1 5 . 
Men  are  but  children  of  a  larger  growth. 

All  for  Love  IV,  I. 
When  wild  in  woods  the  noble  savage  ran. 

Conquest  of  Granada,  Part  I,  i.  1. 
Forgiveness  to  the  injured  does  belong  ; 
But  they  ne'er  pardon  who  have  done  the  wrong, 

lb.,  Part  II,  i.  2. 
Till,  like  a  clock  worn  out  with  eating  time, 
The  wheels  of  weary  life  at  last  stood  still. 

Oedipus,  IV,  t. 


ADDISON   (1672-1719.) 

Joseph  Addison  was  born  May  ist,  1672,  at  Milston  Rectory 
„.  ..       .  _ .  in    Wiltshire.     His   father     was     archdeacon 

Birth  and  Edu- 
cation, of  Salisbury  and  afterwards  Dean  of  Lichfield, 

at  which  two  places  Joseph  Addison  received  his  first  schooling. 
Then  he  was  sent  to  the  Charterhouse,  where  he  formed  a  life- 
long friendship  with  Richard  Steele.  Both  went  to  Oxford  ; 
Addison  first  entered  Queen's  College  (1687)  and  obtained  a 
demyship  at  Magdalen,  when  Steele  went  up  to  Christchurch. 
He  took  his  M.  A.  degree  in  1693. 

Addison  began  his  literary  career  with  a   poetical  address  to 

Dryden  and  an  Account  of  the  greatest  English 

Eapiyns.onTd ! iS        poets   in  rhyme  (1694)  ;  in  which  year  he  also 

'Europe"  translated  the  fourth  book  of  Virgil's  Georgics. 

Introduced  through  Dryden's  publisher  to 
Montague  and  Somers,  by  their  advice  he  wrote  in  1695  an 
Address  to  King  William  in  which  he  adroitly  praised  William's 
chief  adviser,  Lord  Somers.  In  1697  he  complimented 
Montague  in  some  Latin  verses  on  the  peace  of  R\  swick. 
He  thus  secured  Somers  and  Montague  as  his  patrons,  and 
through  their  influence  he  gave  up  all  idea  of  the  clerical 
profession,  for  which  he  had  been  educated,  and  received  (1699) 
a  pension  of  ^"300  a  year  to  enable  him  to  prepare  by  foreign 
travel  for  the  diplomatic  service.  He  travelled  in  France, 
Italy,  Austria,  Germany,  and  Holland  ;  and  from  Italy  he  wrote 
his  metrical  Letter  to  Lord  Halifax  (Montague's  title)  and 
collected  materials  for  his  Dialogues  upon  Medals,  published 
after  his  death.  He  returned  to  England  in  1703.  Queen 
Anne  on  her  accession  had  removed  Halifax  from  the  Privy 
Council,  so  that  Addison  was  now  deprived  of  official  patro- 
nage and  thrown  upon  his  College  fellowship,  which  through 
Montague's  influence  in  1697  he  had  been  allowed  to  hold 
without  taking  Holy  Orders.  The  ministry,  however,  at 
Halifax's    suggestion,   asked    Addison    to  celebrate  the  victory 


ADDISON.  253 

of  Blenheim,  which  he  did  in  The  Campaign  (1704),  'a  gazette 
in  poetry,'  as  Warton  called  it.  He  had  previously  been 
appointed  a  Commissioner  of  Appeal  in  Excise  by  the  Earl  of 
Godolphin.  Soon  afterwards  he  published  his  Remarks  on 
Italy,  dedicated  to  Lord  Somers. 

In    1706  Addison  became  Under-Secretary  of    State.     The 
same  year  he   produced    the    English     opera. 

Goes  to  Ireland.  _ 

Rosamond,  which  was  a  failure,  in  spite  of 
its  ingeniously  staged  compliment  to  the  conqueror  of  Blen- 
heim. 1707  he  attended  Lord  Halifax  on  a  political  mission 
to  Hanover.  Subsequent  changes  in  the  ministry  led  to  his 
removal  to  Ireland,  as  Lord  Wharton's  secretary.  Through 
his  influence  Addison  was  elected  member  of  Parliament  for 
Malmesbury,  but  only  once  attempted  (unsuccessfully)  to  speak 
in  the  House.  In  Ireland  he  became  greatly  attached  to  Swift, 
who  ever  afterwards  cherished  a  warm  feeling  for  him,  though 
their  friendship  was  interrupted  by  political  differences. 

In    1710  the  Whigs  went  out  of  office,  and  Addison  lost  his 
post   as    Secretary ;    though    through     Swift's  . 

Toiler ;  Spectator.  .    n  ,  ,,  , 

influence  he  was  allowed  to  retain  a  minor 
appointment.  Returning  to  London,  he  joined  in  the  Taller, 
a  penny  newspaper,  enlivened  by  satirical  or  humorous  articles, 
which  was  published  three  times  each  week,  and  which  Steele 
had  started  on  his  own  account  in  the  previous  year.  Besides, 
contributing  to  this  paper,  Addison  brought  out  a  short-lived 
Whig  journal,  The  Examiner,  which  was  given  up  towards  the 
end  of  171 1.  In  the  January  of  that  year  Steele  discontinued 
The  Tatler ;  and  on  March  1st  brought  out  its  successor  The 
Spectator,  in  which  Addison  was  his  collaborator  throughout, 
and  wrote  nearly  half  of  the  articles.  It  was  a  daily  penny 
paper  until  August  1st.  1712;  when  in  consequence  of  the 
Stamp  Duty  the  price  was  raised  to  two  pence.  This  reduced 
its  sale,  and  it  came  to  an  end  with  No.  555  in  December  of 
that  vear.  It  was  followed  by  The  Guardian  in  1 713.  In  17 14 
an  unsuccessful  attempt  was  made  to  revive  the  paper  and 
eighty  numbers  were  issued. 


254  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Addison  purchased  in  r  71 1  the  estate  of  Bilton  near  Rugby, 
his  finances  having  by  this  time  much  im- 
proved. While  travelling  on  the  Continent 
he  had  written  the  greater  part  of  a  tragedy,  Cato,  which 
appeared  to  his  friends  to  be  likely  to  produce  a  political 
sensation  in  the  existing  state  of  violent  party  feeling.  It  was 
brought  out  accordingly  at  Drury  Lane  theatre  in  April  1713, 
with  a  prologue  by  Pope  and  an  epilogue  by  Garth.  Both 
parties  applauded  it,  since  it  was  a  purely  patriotic  play,  which 
either  Whigs  or  Tories  could  interpret  as  favouring  their  own 
policy. 

The  commercial  policy  of  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht  (17 13)  was 
attacked  by  Addison  in  a  pamphlet.   The  Late 
Trial  and  Conviction  of   Count    Tariff.     This 
piece  of  party  service  procured    for    him    the    appointment    of 
Secretary   to    the  Regency  after  Queen  Anne's  death.     On  the 
accession  of  George  I,  he  was  made  Chief  Secretary  for  Ireland 
under  the  Earl  of  Sunderland.    The  rebellion  of  17 15  in  favour 
of  the  Pretender,  and  the  consequent  anxiety    of    the    Ministry 
to    secure    Addison's    services    in   defence  of  the  Hanoverian 
succession  resulted  in  his  issue  of  The  Freeholder,  a  newspaper 
which  lasted  from  December  171 5  to  the  end  of  the    following 
June.    Towards  the  close  of  that  year  he  married  the  Countess 
Dowager    of    Warwick,    and    lived     thenceforth    at    Holland 
House,  in  the  centre  of  London  fashionable  society,  a  position 
for    which    he    was   naturally  ill  adapted,  and  inevitably  found 
irksome.     He  had  only  one  daughter  who  died  unmarried. 
In  1717    Addison    was    appointed    Secretary    of    State    in 
Sunderland's    ministry,    but    ill-health    corn- 
Secretary  of  pelled    him    to    resign    the  office  after  eleven 

State ;  Death,  r  o 

months,  through  he  was  able  to  defend  the 
Cabinet  against  the  political  attacks  of  his  old  friend  Steele,  in 
the  pamphlet  war  of  The  Blebelin  against  The  Old  Whig.  He 
was,  however,  fast  failing  from  asthma,  on  which  dropsy 
supervened,  and  on  June  17th  17 19  he  died,  and  was  buried 
in  Westminster  Abbey.  His  great  friend,  Tickell,  wrote  a  fine 
elegy  on  his  '  dear  departed  friend,  who  — 


ADDISON.  255 

'Taught  us  how  to  live  :  and  oh  !  too  high 
The  price  of  knowledge,  taught  us  how  to  die.' 

The  most  obvious  feature  of  Addison's  personal  character 
is  a  modest  dignity,  a  scrupulous  and  delicate 
dMsTman.  self-respect,     and    an    incorruptible     rectitude 

which  secured  for  him  the  esteem  even  of  his 
bitterest  political  opponents.  Perhaps  he  did  more  than  any 
man  to  introduce  a  tone  of  candour,  moderation,  and  good 
breeding  into  the  heated  atmosphere  of  party  politics.  M.  Taine 
says  very  truly  of  him  :  '■The  Spectator,  The  Tatler,  and  The 
Guardian  are  mere  lay  sermons.  Moreover  he  put  his  maxims 
into  practice.  He  possessed  an  innate  nobility  of  character,  and 
reason  aided  him  in  keeping  it.  He  had  made  for  himself  a 
portrait  of  a  rational  creature,  and  he  conformed  his  conduct  to 
this  by  reflection  as  much  as  by  instinct.'  On  the  other  hand, 
he  appears  to  have  been  of  a  cold  self-contained  nature,  and  to 
have  subserved  his  own  self-esteem  by  surrounding  himself 
with  a  clique  of  admirers,  such  as  Tickell,  Philips,  and  Budgell. 
Making  every  allowance  for  Pope's  habitual  spite  towards 
everyone  by  whom  he  had  been,  or  fancied  that  he  had  been 
slighted,  there  still  seems  reason  to  think  that  the  terrible 
satire  upon  'Atticus'  had  some  foundation  in  fact.  (See  p.  270). 

As  a  poet  Addison  was  little  more  than  a  careful  writer 
of  conventional  verse.     He  is  entitled    to    the 

\1)  As  a  writer. 

negative  praise  of  never  having  prostituted 
his  muse  to  ignoble  ends,  as  Dryden  did  ;  and  in  his  treatment 
of  the  heroic  couplet,  by  careful  phrasing  and  judicious 
antithesis  he  led  the  way  from  Dryden's  flowing  freedom  to 
the  terse  energy  of  Pope.  But  it  is  his  prose  which  has  made 
him  immortal.  This  partly  arose  from  the  fact  that  in  The 
Spectator  he  had  the  help  of  a  writer  whose  genius  was  exactly 
complementary  to  his  own,  so  that  each  called  forth  the  best 
powers  of  the  other  ;  and  partly  no  doubt  because  Addison 
had  the  good  fortune  to  come  at  a  time  in  the  history  of 
English  literature  when  his  special  services  were  most  neces- 
sary and  best  appreciated.  The  nation  was  genuinely  sick 
at   heart   of   the    long  divorce  which  Cromwell  and  Charles  II 


256  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

between  them  had  brought  about  between  religion  and  art,  be- 
tween decency  and  wit.  '  He  made,'  as  W.  C.  Russell  well  says, 
'all  that  he  wrote  luminous  with  piety  and  fragrant  with  virtue. 
Writing  in  a  day  when  blasphemy  was  accounted  a  high  kind 
of  wit,  and  obscenity  a  high  kind  of  humour,  he  has  transmitted 
almost  nothing  to  which  the  most  rigid  female  purist  of  our 
own  most  moral  epoch  could  take  the  smallest  exception.' 
Indeed  Addison  did  much  more  than  this  :  he  succeeded  in 
making  morality,  decency,  and  religion  fashionable,  arid  he 
introduced  a  higher  standard  for  all  the  literature  that  followed. 
And  the  instrument  by  which  he  did  this,  his  own  inimitable 
prose  style,  was  in  its  way  as  unique  as  Dryden's  heroic 
couplet  or  Milton's  blank  verse.  Johnson  was  right  in  saying, 
'  Whoever  wishes  to  attain  an  English  style,  familiar  but  not 
coarse,  and  elegant  but  not  ostentatious,  must  give  his  days 
and  nights  to  [he  study  of  Addison.'  Of  his  prose  Macaulay 
writes  :  '  Never,  not  even  by  Dry  den,  not  even  by  Temple,  had 
the  English  language  been  written  with  such  sweetness,  grace, 
and  facility.  As  a  moral  satirist  he  stands  unrivalled.  We 
own  that  Addison's  humour  is,  in  our  opinion,  of  a  more 
delicious  flavour  than  the  humour  of  either  Swift  or  Voltaire.' 
Addison's  great*  work  is  no  doubt  his  contributions  to 
ito  Spectator.  The    SPeclalor,       The    first      number    of    this 

paper  explained  its  title  :  the  journal  was  to 
maintain  in  all  its  criticisms  of  life  and  manners  the  attitude 
of  a  philosophic  but  sympathetic  onlooker,  on  the  proverbial 
principle  that  '  bystanders  discover  blots,  which  are  apt  to 
escape  those  who  are  in  the  game.'  In  the  second  number 
were  sketched  the  characters  of  those  members  of  an  imaginary 
Club,  'whose  dissertations  on  various  subjects,  or  whose  personal 
adventures  were  to  give  life  to  the  journal.  These  were  Sir 
Roger  de  Coverley,  the  type  of  an  English  country  gentleman  ; 
Will  Honeycomb,  the  man  of  fashion ;  Captain  Sentry,  the 
Soldier;  and  Sir  Andrew  Freeport,  the  merchant;  while  Will 
Wimble,  the  poor  relation  who  makes  himself  useful  and 
agreeable  to  everybody,  is  an  amusing  figure  among  a  crowd 
of    life-like   lesser   personages.      Of    these    Gosse    says,    'We 


ADDISON.  257 

delight  in  his  (Addison's)  company  so  greatly  that  we  do  not 
pause  to  reflect  that  the  inventor  of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  and 
Will  Honeycomb  had  not  half  of  the  real  comic  force  of 
Farquhar  or  Vanbrugh,  nor  so  much  as  that  of  the  flashing 
wit  of  Congreve.  Addison  however  stands  higher  than  those 
more  original  writers  by  merit  of  the  reasonableness,  the  good 
sense,  tiie  wnolesome  humanity  ttiat  animates  his  work.  He 
is  classic,  while  they  are  always  a  little  way  over  on  the  barbaric 
side  of  perfection.' 

Among  the  serious  and  meditative    papers   which    Addison 
contributed    to   The  Spectator,   the     Vision   of 

Vision  oj  Mirza.  r  J 

Mirza  is  conspicuous  (Mo.  159J  as  a  perfect 
example  of  a  prose  allegory.  In  this  story  a  devout  Mussulman 
is  supposed  to  have  ascended  the  high  hills  of  Bagdat  for 
meditation  and  prayer,  where  in  a  trance-vision  he  beholds  the 
stream  of  Time  lost  in  the  mists  of  Eternity,  spanned  by  the 
ruinous  bridge  of  Life  in  which  are  innumerable  trap-doors 
through  which  the  travellers  suddenly  fall  and  are  lost.  Taine 
quotes  this  vision  almost  in  its  entirety  and  says  of  it  :  In  this 
ornate  moral  sketch,  this  fine  reasoning,  so  correct  and  so 
eloquent,  this  ingenious  and  noble  imagination,  I  find  an 
epitome  of  all  Addison's  characteristics.' 


QUOTATIONS. 

'Tis  not  in  mortals  to  command  success, 

But  we  'II  do  more,  Semoronius,  we'll  deserve  it.      Cato.  I,  2. 

The  woman  that  deliberates  is  lost.     lb.  iv,  1. 

For  ever  singing,  as  they  (the  stars)  shine, 

The  hand  that  made  us  is  divine.     Spectator,  Vol.  vi,  No.  466. 

Sunday    clears   away  the  rust   of    the    whole   week. 

Spectator,     Vol.  II,  No.  112. 
A   woman    seldom    asks    advice    before    she    has    bought    her 
wedding  clothes,     lb.  Vol,  VII.  No.  475. 

17 


258  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

He    dances    like    an    angel. ..He    is  always  laughing  for  he  has- 
an  infinite  deal  of  wit.     lb. 

Our  disputants  put  me  in  mind  of  the  cuttle-fish,  that,  when 
he  is  unable  to  extricate  himself,  blackens  the  water  about  hirn 
till  he  becomes  invisible.     Spectator  Vol.  VII,  No.  476. 

...an  impudent  mountebank  who  sold  pills,  which,  as  he  told 
the  country  people,  were  very  good  against  an  earthquake. 

7at/cr,  No.  24c. 


POPE  (1688—1744) 

Alexander    Pope,    the    greatest  poet   and     most    brilliant 

Birth  Educa-  satirist  of    his  school,  was  born  May  21,  16S8, 

tion,  and  early         jn  Lombard  Street,  London.     His  father  was 

poems. 

a  prosperous  linen  merchant ;  his  mother 
came  of  a  good  Yorkshire  family.  His  father  had  in  his 
youth  been  placed  with  a  merchant  at  Lisbon,  where  he  became 
a  Roman  Catholic,  in  which  communion  the  poet  lived  and 
died.  Instead,  therefore,  of  going  to  a  public  school  he  was 
taught  by  Catholic  priests  either  at  home  or  in  private  schools. 
He  appears  to  have  been  to  a  great  extent  his  own  teacher, 
and  had  a  precocious  love  of  books  ;  indeed  his  deformity  and 
chronic  ill-health  seem  to  have  resulted  largely  from  excessive 
reading  combined  with  want  of  exercise.  Having  made  a  for- 
tune, his  father  retired  to  Binfield,  near  Windsor  Forest. 
When  twelve  years  old  Pope  wrote  his  first  poem,  an  Ode  to 
Solitude  ;  and  when  about  fourteen  he  made  a  verse  translation 
of  the  first  book  of  the  Thebais  of  Statius,  in  which  are  signs 
of  his  special  power  in  using  the  heroic  couplet.  Between 
1704  and  1706  he  wrote  his  Pastorals,  which,  though  not 
published  till  1709,  where  privately  circulated  among  eminent 
critics,  and  procured  for  him  the  kindly  consideration  of  the 
veteran  Wycherley  and  the  lasting  friendship  of  Walsh. 

Through  Wycherley   Pope  was  introduced  to  the  society  of 
the    wits   and  poets  of   London,  and  made  the 

Life  in  London  ;  * 

Essay  on  acquaintance  of  Addison,  Steele,    and    Swift. 

In  171 1  he  published  his  Essay  on  Criticism, 
which  placed  him  in  the  front  rank  of  the  poets  of  his  day. 
In  this  poem  he  follows  Boileau  in  setting  up  the  Latin  writers 
of  the  Augustan  age  as  the  perfect  models  of  style.  Taine 
says  of  it,  'It  is  the  kind  of  poem  a  man  might  write  at  the 
end  of  his  career,  when  he  has  handled  all  modes  of  writing 
and  has  grown  grey  in  criticism  ;  and  in  this  subject,  of  which 
the  treatment  demands  the    experience  of  a  whole    literary  life, 


260  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

he  was,  at  the  first  onset,  as  ripe  as  Boileau.'  There  is  in  it 
much  freshness  and  freedom  of  thought,  and  a  wonderful 
precision  and  polish  of  expression. 

In  171  2    The  Rape  of  the  Lock,  perhaps  the  most  celebrated 

of  the  arK^    characteristic    of    all    Pope's    work,    was 

Lock;  Messiah;         issued,  in  its  first  short  form,  in  Lintofs  Miscell- 

Windsor  Forest. 

antes,  and  brought  its  author  into  prominence 
as  a  fashionable  wit.  Pope  afterwards  (171 4)  enlarged  the  poem 
to  the  mock-epic  we  have  now,  contrary  to  Addison's  no  doubt 
well-meant,  though,  as  it  turned  out,  mistaken  advice.  This 
was  the  beginning  of  a  misunderstanding  between  them,  which 
ultimately  culminated  in  Pope's  bitter  satire  on  Addison  in  the 
character  of  'Atticus'  (p.  270).  In  171 3  he  published  in  the 
Spectator  an  eclogue,  The  Messiah,  in  imitation  of  Virgil's 
Pollio  ;  and  later  in  the  year,  at  Steele's  suggestion,  an  ode, 
The  Dying  Christian  to  His  Soul,  which  long  held  its  own  as 
a  masterpiece  of  devotional  poeiry,  though  altogether  artificial 
in  tone.  In  the  same  year  Pope  brought  out  Windsor  Forest,  a 
poem  which  he  professed  to  have  written  four  years  before.  It 
contains  some  admirable  descriptive  touches  in  its  pictures  of 
natural  scenery. 

Pope  was  now  encouraged  by  his  friends,  and  especially  by 
„.  ,  Swift,  to  undertake  the  translation  of  the  Iliad 

Iliad. 

of  Homer.  It  was  published  by  subscription, 
in  six  volumes,  to  appear  annually.  The  first  came  out  in  1  7  1  5  ; 
the  fifth  and  sixth  appeared  together  in  1720.  Pope  was  assist- 
ed by  Parnell  and  Broome  in  the  work,  which  brought  him  at 
least  £  5,000.  The  great  scholar  Bentley  put  its  merits  in  a 
nutshell  :  Tt  is  a  pretty  poem,  Mr.  Pope,  but  you  must  not  call 
it  Homer.'  The  epithet  'pretty'  is,  however,  inadequate  ;  it  is 
really  the  finest  considerable  poem  in  the  comparatively  un- 
inspired age  intervening  between  Paradise  Lost  and  The 
Excursion. 

In  1716  Pope's  father  removed  from  Binfield    to   Chiswick, 

The  Twickenham      where  he  died  in  the  year  following.     In  1718 

Pope  purchased  his  famous  villa  and  grounds 

at    Twickenham,    which    was   his  abode  for  the  resl  of  his  life. 


POPE. 


261 


Here  he  lived  with  his  mother,  to  whom  he  was  devotedly 
attached.     She  died  in  1733. 

From  1722  to  1726  he  was  engaged,  with  Broome  and 
Fenton,    in  translating    Homer's   Odyssey ;  by 

Odyssey  :  .  « 

Shakespeare.  which,    after    paying    assistants,     he     cleared 

about  £  3,500.  He  also  brought  out  an  annotated  edition  of 
Shakespeare,  which,  though  of  no  great  value,  helped  to  revive 
an  interest  in  Shakespeare  at  a  time  when  his  plays  were  al- 
most universally  neglected. 

In  1726  Swift  came  to  London  and  stayed  with  Pope.  Gay 
and  Arbuthnot  were  often  in    their    company  ; 

Treatise  on 

Bathos.  and    between    them    they    brought    out    three 

volumes  of  Mhcellinies,  of  which  the  last  appeared  in  1727, 
besides  the  Memoirs  of  Martin  Scriblerus.  Pope's  chief  con- 
tribution was  A  Treatise  on  Bathos,  satirising  the  minor  poets 
of  the  time,  among  them  his  own  assistant,  Broome. 

The  victims  of  these  satires  retorted  in  savage  lampoons  ; 
and  Pope  took  the  opportunity    of    making    a 

The  Dunciad.  ,      ,  r       .  .  ,,  , 

holocaust  of  them  in  an  equally  savage  lam- 
poon, the  first  draft  of  which  he  had  written  in  1725,  and  to  the 
composition  of  which  he  devoted  all  the  force  of  his  genius  and 
the  most  stinging  sarcasm  of  his  polished  couplets.  This  was 
The  Dunciad  ( 1  728),  in  three  books.  The  hero,  the  crowned 
favourite  of  the  Goddess  of  Dulness  was  Lewis  Theobald,  the 
editor  of  Shakespeare,  who  in  1726  had  criticised  Pope's 
edition.  Most  of  the  writers  pilloried  in  the  Dunciad  would 
never  otherwise  have  been  known  to  us  ;  but  what  we  know  of 
the  rest  goes  to  prove  that  this  poetical  onslaught,  however 
cleverly  composed,  is  based  chiefly  upon  personal  spite.  Thus 
the  great  scholar  Bentley  had  failed  to  appreciate  Pope's 
Homer  ;  he  is  therefore  belittled  with  energetic  rancour.  The 
lines,  in  which  this  pseudo-criticism  occurs,  writes  Pattison, 
are  a  typical  specimen  of  the  fatal  flaw  in  Pope's  writings,  viz. 
that  the  workmanship  is  not  supported  by  the  matter  ;  a  palp- 
able falsehood  is  enshrined  in  immortal  lines.'  The  original 
Dunciad  was  subsequently  modified,  and  in  its  final  form, 
Colley,  Cibber,  Poet  Laureate  from    1730  to  1757,    a  veteran 


262  A   HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

actor  and  playwright,  was  placed  on  the  throne  of  Dulness  ins- 
tead of  Theobald  (1743)- 

Pope's  latest  works  are  his  best ;  he  had  discovered  the  true 
sphere  of  his  genius,  viz  :    Satire,    and    with  it 

Latest  Works  ;  ^  & 

Death,  the  art  of  expressing  commonplace  philosophy 

in  such  perfection  of  phrase  as  to  make  it  appear  profoundly 
original.  These  works  include  his  celebrated  Essay  on  Man 
(1732-341  ;  his  Moral  Essays,  concluded  in  1735  ;  the  Epistle 
to  Atbuthnot  (1735.;  and  the  Imitations  of  Horace  0  733" 
1737).  In  1738  he  published  his  well-known  Universal 
Hymn,  as  a  suitable  close  to  the  Essay  on  Man.  The  last  few 
years  of  his  life  were  devoted  to  the  revision  of  his  various 
works.  Towards  the  end  he  suffered  from  asthma  and  dropsy, 
and  died  May  30,  1 744. 

Personally  Pope  appears  in  an  unamiable  light,  with  the 
His  Character  :  important  exception  of  his  home  life.  Much 
(Das  a  man.  allowance  must  be    made  for  the    chronic    ill- 

health  and  deformity  which  made  his  life  'one  long  disease' ; 
and  much  for  the  defective  education  and  the  lifelong  sense  of 
social  injustice  which  resulted  from  his  position  as  a  Catholic. 
He  never  married,  though  there  was  a  somewhat  obscure 
platonic  friendship  between  him  and  Martha  Blount,  with  her 
sister  Teresa,  whose  acquaintance  he  formed  in  1707  ;  and  his 
unrequited  passion  for  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague  served 
only  to  embitter  his  feelings.  We  know  that  Swift,  who  of  all 
men  would  have  been  most  inclined  to  judge  him  fairly,  'had 
long  conceived  a  mean  opinion  of  Mr.  Pope  on  account  of  his 
jealous,  peevish,  avaricious  nature.'  How  far  Pope  was  justi- 
fied in  his  satire  on  Addison  is  an  extremely  intricate  historical 
problem.  It  is  at  least  certain  that  Pope's  moral  nature  was 
strangely  warped,  that  he  was  both  vain,  vindictive,  and  untruth- 
ful ;  indeed  he  had  an  almost  insane  love  of  mystifying  the 
public  and  his  friends,  by  underhand  plots  to  enhance  his  own 
importance. 

As  a  poet  Pope  stands  supreme  among  the  writers  of  verse 

from  the  Restoration  to  the  French  Revolution. 

(2)    as  a  poet.  y^  aim  of  tnose  writers  was  not    Nature,  but 


pope.  263 

Art,  the  art  of  words.  This  art  Pope  brought  to  its  highest 
perfection.  The  substance  of  what  he  wrote  was  essentially 
prosaic  ;  but  the  form  was  so  finished  and  so  brilliant  as  to  lift 
it  out  of  the  region  of  prose.  Where  Pope  is  greatest  is  where 
this  perfect  art  is  used  to  describe  things  which  he  knew  well, 
and  in  regard  to  which  he  felt  a  keen  sympathy  or  an  intense 
dislike — the  life  of  the  Court  and  of  the  fashionable  frequenters 
of  town  society.  Hence  his  Moral  Essays,  his  Sa/ires,  and  his 
Epistles  (when  he  does  not  digress  into  shallow  theorisings) 
give  him  his  truest  title  to  immortality.  '  The  charm  of  Pope's 
best  passages,'  writes  Gosse,  '  when  it  does  not  rest  upon  his 
Dutch  picturesqueness  of  touch,  is  due  to  the  intellectual 
pleasure  given  by  his  adroit  and  stimulating  manner  of  produc- 
ing his  ideas.  It  is  an  additional  merit  that  his  original 
writings,  in  which  caustic  wit  takes  so  prominent  a  place,  and 
in  which  the  attention  is  always  kept  tensely  on  the  strain,  are 
usually  quite  short.' 

Pope's  most  characteristic  poem  is  The  Rape    of  the  Lock. 
The  Rape  of  the  ^    was    based  upon  an  incident  in  fashionable 

life.  Young  Lord  Petre  had  cut  off  a  lock  of 
hair  from  a  Miss  Arabella  Fermor.  The  families  had 
quarrelled  in  consequence,  and  Pope's  friend  Caryll  suggested 
to  him  the  idea  of  turning  the  quarrel  into  a  good-humoured 
jest  by  writing  a  mock-heroic  poem  on  the  subject.  In  the 
enlarged  version  he  greatly  improved  it  by  introducing  a 
supernatural  machinery  of  'sylphs'  into  the  conduct  of  the 
intrigue.  Addison  praised  the  poem  on  its  first  appearance 
as  merum  sal,  a  bit  of  pure  wit.  De  Quincey  declares  it  to  be 
'  the  most  exquisite  monument  of  playful  fancy  that  universal 
literature  affords.'  'I he  Rape  of  the  Lock,  writes  Hazlitt,  '  is 
the  most  exquisite  specimen  of  filigree  work  ever  invented. 
It  is  made  of  gauze  and  silver  spangles.  The  most  glittering 
appearance  is  given  to  everything  ;  to  paste,  pomatum,  billets- 
doux,  and  patches.  Airs,  languid  airs,  breathe  around  ;  the 
atmosphere  is  perfumed  with  affectation.  A  toilet  is  described 
with  the  solemnity  of  an  alter  raised  to  the  goddess  of  vanity, 
and    the    history    of    a    silver    bodkin     is    given    with    all    the 


264  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

pomp  of  heraldry.  No  pains  are  spared,  no  profusion  of 
ornament,  no  splendour  of  poetic  diction  to  set  off  the 
meanest  things.  It  is  the  triumph  of  insignificance,  the 
apotheosis  of  foppery  and  folly.  It  is  the  perfection  of  the  mock 
heroic'  The  poem  has,  however,  with  little  justice  been  con- 
demned by  Stephen  for  its  smartness  and  want  of  delicacy  ; 
and  Taine,  with  less,  declares  that  all  Pope's  stock  of  phrases 
is  but  'a  parade  of  gallantry  which  betrays  indelicacy  and 
coarseness' ;  and  adds  that  'the  wit  is  no  wit  ;  all  is  calculated, 
combined,  artificially  prepared.'  Gosse  writes  :  'Its  faults,  a 
certain  hardness  and  want  of  sympathy,  are  the  faults  of  the 
age,  and  mark  little  more  than  a  submission  to  the  prevalent 
Congreve  ideal  of  polite  manners.  Its  merits  are  of  the  most 
delicate  order.' 


QUOTATIONS. 

Who  sees  with  equal  eye,  as  God  of  all, 

A  hero  perish,  or  a  sparrow  fall.     Essay  on  Man,  I.  87-8. 

Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast  ; 
Man  never  is,  but  always  to  be  blest.     lb.  93-6. 

Die  of  a  rose  in  aromatic  pain.     lb.  200. 

The  spider's  touch,  how  exquibitely  fine  ! 

Feels  at  each  thread,  and  lives  along  the  line     lb.  217-8. 

All  nature  is  but  art,  unknown  to  thee  ; 

All  chance,  direction,  which  thou  canst  not  see  : 

All  discord,  harmony  not  understood  : 

All  partial  evil,  universal  good  ; 

And  spite  of  pride,  in  erring  reason's  spite. 

One  truth  is  clear,  Whatever  is,  is  right.    //'.    289-294. 

Know  then  thyself,  presume  not  God  to  scan  ; 
The  proper  study  of  Mankind  is  man.     lb.  II.   1-2. 

For  modes  of  faith  let  graceless  zealots  fight  ; 

His  can't  be  wrong  whose  life  is  in  the  right.     lb.     305-6. 


POPE 


265 


Order  is  Heaven's  first  law.     lb.  IV,  49. 

Worth  makes  the  man,  and  want  of  it  the  fellow  ; 

The  rest  is  all  but  leather  or  prunello.     lb.     203-4. 

An  honest  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God.  lb.     248. 

Thou  wert  my  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend.     lb.     390. 

And  mistress  of  herself,  though  china  fall.  Moral  Essays,  II,  268. 

Who  shall  decide,  when  doctors  disagree  ?  lb,  III,  I. 

Where  London's  column,  pointing  to  the  skies. 

Like  a  tall  bully,  lifts  the  head  and  lies.     lb,     339-40. 

Who  never  mentions  hell  to  ears  polite.     lb.   IV,   150. 

A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing  ; 

Drink  deep,  or  taste  not  the  Pierian  spring. 

Essay  071  Criticism,  II,  15-6. 
A  needless  Alexandrine  ends  the  song, 
That,  like  a  wounded  snake,  drags  its  slow  length  along. 

lb.      1 58-9. 
We  think  our  fathers  fools,  so  wise  we  grow  ; 
Our  wiser  sons,  no  doubt,  will  think  us  so.     lb.  238-9. 
To  err  is  human,  to  forgive  divine.     lb.  326. 
For  fools  rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread.     lb.  ill,  66. 
Beauty  draws  us  with  a  single  hair.   Rape  of  the  Loch,  II,  28. 
At  every  word  a  reputation  dies.     lb.   in,   16. 
The  hungry  judges  soon  the  sentence  sign, 
And  wretches  hang,  that  jurymen  may  dine.     lb.   21-2. 
I  lisped  in  numbers,  for  the  numbers  came. 

Epistle  to  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  128. 
He  whose  fustian's  so  sublimely  bad, 
It  is  not  poetry,  but  prose  run  mad.      lb.   187-8. 

Peace  to  all  such  !  but  were  there  one  whose  fires 
True  genius  kindles  and  fair  fame  inspires  ; 
Blest  with  each  talent  and  each  art  to  please, 
And  born  to  write,  converse,  and  live  with  ease  ; 
Should  such  a  man,  too  fond  to  rule  alone, 
Bear,  like  the  Turk,  no  brother  near  the  throne  ; 
View  him  with  scornful,  yet  with  jealous  eyes, 
And  hate  for  arts  that  caused  himself  to  rise  ; 
Damn  with  faint  praise,  assent  with  civil  leer, 
And,  without  sneering,  teach  the  rest  to  sneer  ; 
Willing  to  wound,  and  yet  afraid  to  strike, 
Just  hint  a  fault,  and  hesitate  dislike  ; 


266  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Alike  reserved  to  blame,  or  to  command, 

A  timorous  foe,  and  a  suspicious  friend, 

Dreading  e'en  fools,  by  flatterers  besieged, 

And  so  obliging,  that  he  ne'er  obliged  ; 

Like  Cato,  give  his  little  senate  laws, 

And  sit  attentive  to  his  own  applause  : 

While  wits  and  Templars  every  sentence  raise, 

And  wonder  with  a  foolish  face  of  praise  ;  — 

Who  but  must  laugh,  if  such  a  man  there  be  ? 

Who  would  not  weep,  if  Atticus  were  he  ?  lb.    193-214. 

Who  breaks  a  butterfly  upon  a  wheel  ?     lb.  308. 

The  feast  of  reason  and  the  flaw  of  soul.     Satires,  I,  12S. 

Do  good  by  stealth,  and  blush  to  find  it  fame. 

Epilogue  to  the  Satires,   1,   136. 

The  right  divine  of  Kings  to  govern  wrong.     Dunciad,  IV.  1 88. 


JOHNSON  (1709—1784). 

Samuel    Johnson,    poet,     essayist,    and    lexicographer,    by 
Birth  and  common  consent  of    his    peers    recognised  as 

Parentage.  ^  jiterary  monarch  of    his    day,   was  born  at 

Lichfield,  Sept.  18,  1709.  flis  father  vvas  a  bookseller,  and  had 
served  as  Mayor  of  the  city  ;  his  mother  came  from  a  yeoman's 
family  in  Warwickshire.  From  his  father  he  inherited  a  mark- 
ed tendency  to  melancholy,  aggravated  by  a  scrofulous  con- 
stitution, which  left  him  in  mature  life  with  a  disfigured  face, 
liable  to  spasmodic  nervous  contortions.  From  his  parents  tie 
may  have  inherited  his  curious  tendency  to  petty  superstitions, 
since  they  were  credulous  enough  to  take  him  to  London  to 
be  'touched'  for  the  'King's  evil.' 

He  was  educated,   first   at   a    dame's    school ;  then    at  the 
grammar-schools  of  Lichfield  and  Stourbridge  ; 

Education.  "  ° 

then  after  two  years  of  desultory  reading  at 
home,  his  godfather  Dr.  Swinfen  sent  him  in  1729  to  Pem- 
broke College,  Oxford,  where  he  distinguished  himself  by 
translating  Pope's  Messiah  into  Latin  verse.  His  father  becom- 
ing bankrupt,  he  left  Oxford  without  a  degree  in  1 73 1 . 

For  the  next  thirty  years  his  life  was  a  heroic  battle  with 
Early  struggles  grinding  poverty.  After  enduring  the  hateful 
and  marriage.  purgatory  of  school    teaching    at    Market  Bos- 

worth  for  some  months,  he  tried  hack-writing  at  Birmingham. 
In  1735  he  married  Mrs.  Porter,  a  widow,  who  was  his  senior 
by  twenty-one  years,  and  brought  him  a  dowry  of  £  800  ;  but 
it  was  undoubtedly  a  genuine  love-match  on  both  sides  ;  and 
he  mourned  her  with  deep  and  lasting  sorrow  after  her  death 
in  1752.  Part  of  her  fortune  was  lost  by  a  solicitor's  insolvency 
and  the  rest  was  wasted  in  a  futile  attempt  to  set  up  a  boarding- 
school  near  Lichfield. 


268  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Leaving  his  wife  for  a  time  in  Lichfield,  he  came  to  London 
Life  in  London.  C'737)  with  one  of  his  pupils,  David  Garrick. 
He  arrived  there  with  twopence  half-penny  in 
his  pocket,  and  a  tragedy  in  MS.  With  dogged  obstinacy  and 
surly  independence,  often  dinnerless  and  sometimes  without  a 
roof  to  cover  him  at  night,  he  fought  his  way  upwards  among 
the  publishers  and  editors  ;  contributing  to  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine  and  Cave's  Parliamentary  Debates. 

In  1738  he  published  anonymously    a    free    paraphrase    of 
London;  Hje  of         Juvenal's  third  satire  under  the  title  of  London. 

Savage.  ,  .  , .  .        .  .    .  , 

a  poem  whose  interest  lies  in  its  vivid  auto- 
biographical interest.  Pope  was  much  struck  with  its  merit. 
In  1744  he  wrote  the  Life  of  Mr.  Richard  Savage  (1698- 
1743),  an  unfortunate  poet  who  had  been  one  of  his  Bohemian 
companions  in  town.  In  1847  he  began  his  great  English 
Dictionary. 

In  1749  he  published  a  still  more  powerful  adaptation  of  a 
vanity  of  Human  satire  of  Juvenal's,  the  Vanity  of  Human 
bSSSISU  Wishes,  and  in   1750  commenced   The  Ramb- 

ler, a  series  of  essays  modelled  on  Addison's 
Spectator.  This  periodical,  though  rather  heavy  in  style, 
attained  some  success,  and  came  out  twice  a  week  for  the 
next  two  years.  But  his  tragedy  of  Irene  (the  one  he  had 
brought  with  him  to  London)  turned  out  a  failure,  though 
Garrick  did  his  best  for  it  at  Drury  Lane  theatre. 

In  1755  the  Dictionary  was  published,  and  at  once  became 

a  standard  book  of  reference.  Oxford  there- 
TAf  Dictionoi-u ; 

The  idler;  upon  gave  him  the  honorary    degree  of  M.  A.- 

which  was  followed  by  the  LL.  D  degree  in 
1775.  The  Idler,  a  similar  production  to  The  Rambler,  appear- 
ed in  1758-60.  In  1759  he  lost  his  mother,  and  to  cover  the 
expenses  of  her  funeral,  he  wrote  a  didactic  tale.  Rasselas,  in 
a  week,  (t  is  the  story  of  an  Abyssinian  prince  brought  up  in 
total  seclusion  in  the  'Happy  Valley',  who  contrives  with  the 
help  of  the  philosopher  Imlac  to  see  for  himself  what  the  world 
is  like. 


JOHNSON.  269 

In  1762  he  was  induced  to  accept  a  pension  of  ^300  from 
Lord    Bute,   though    in  his    Dictionary  he  had 

Pension.  .     -         ,  .  ,  ,.  . 

denned  a  pension  as  '  An  allowance  made  to 
any  one  without  an  equivalent,'  and  a  pensioner  as  'A  slave  of 
state,  hired  by  a  stipend  to  ohey  his  master.'  One  undesirable 
result  of  Johnson's  conscientiousness  was  that  it  induced  him, 
late  in  life,  to  give  his  quid  pro  quo  in  the  shape  of  Tory 
pamphlets  on  the  Government  side,  among  which  the  un- 
happiest  was,  Taxation  no  Tyranny  (1775),  a  defence  of  the 
suicidal  folly  of  the  American  War.  Throughout  life  he  was 
an  obstinate  and  violently  prejudiced  Tory. 

In  1763  he  first  met  James  Boswell,  a  young  Scotch 
Bosweiiand  the  barrister,  who  soon  afterwards  became 
Literary  ciub.  Johnson's  inseparable  companion  and  devoted 

worshipper.  In  his  Life  of  Dr.  Johnson  published  seven  years 
after  his  hero's  death,  he  has  recorded  with  lifelike  fidelity,  all 
Johnson's  sayings  and  doings,  with  the  result  that  he  is  almost 
as  well  known  to  us  as  he  was  to  his  contemporaries.  About 
1764  Johnson  formed  a  fast  friendship  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Thrale,  who  did  much  to  brighten  his  life  and  give  him  the 
benefits  of  travel.  Mrs.  Thrale  afterwards  became  Mrs.  Piozzi. 
In  the  same  year  was  formed  the  Literary  Club,  at  the  meetings 
of  which  the  dogmatic  Doctor,  in  his  comfortable  arm-chair  for 
a  throne,  held  supreme  sway  over  the  brilliant  talk  of  a  circle 
which  included  Burke,  Goldsmith,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and 
indeed  all  the  most  distinguished  wits  of  the  time. 

In  1773  Boswell  succeeded  in  persuading  Dr.  Johnson  to 
travel    to   Scotland  and  the  Hebrides,  in  those 

Closing  years.  ,  ,  _ 

days  a  serious  business,  tor  some  time  previ- 
ously Johnson  had  maintained  under  his  roof  a  number  of  poor 
dependents,  including  even  a  negro,  whom  for  various  reasons 
he  had  befriended.  Among  these  was  Robert  Levet,  whose 
memory  is  enshrined  in  verses  written  by  Johnson  on  his  death. 
In  spite  of  their  querulousness  he  was  invariably  kind  to  them. 
His  house  became  a  kind  of  literary  shrine  to  which  young 
aspirants  to  distinction  made  reverent  pilgrimages,  to  take  their 
chance  of  a  snub   or  of   judicious    advice    from    one    who,    as 


270  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Goldsmith  truly  said,  'had  nothing  of  the  bear  but  the  skin.' 
His  Journey  to  the   Western  Islands  of  Scotland  (1775)    and 
his    Lives    of  the   Poets  (1779-178 1 )  represent 

JouriKu  to  Scot-  .1  1  •  1        ,-     1  1 

land ;  Lives  of  t"e  main  literary  work  ot  these  closing  years; 

"'Death.'  tney   a'so    snew  h's  st.vle  in  its  best  and  finally 

matured  form.  The  Lives  have  little  value  as 
permanent  criticisms,  but  they  indirectly  reveal  the  man  him- 
self. He  was  a  competent  critic  only  within  very  narrow  limits. 
In  his  estimates  of  Milton  and  Gray  he  is  too  much  warped  by 
his  own  limitations,  though  he  obviously  tries  to  be  impartial  ; 
but  with  some  of  the  smaller  poets,  especially  Edmund  Smith, 
he  is  more  at  home  and  writes  in  his  happiest  vein.  The  truth 
is  that  his  whole  code  of  criticism  is  based  on  the  orthodox, 
conventional  standards  of  his  age  ;  he  is  a  classicalist,  born 
and  bred.  He  begins  his  Lives  with  Cowley,  ignoring  the  old 
romantic  school  of  Chaucer  and  Spenser,  and  sets  up  Pope  as 
his  ideal  of  all  that  is  best  in  the  poetical  world.  Johnson  is. 
as  it  were,  constitutionally  incapable  of  appreciating  the  'fine 
frenzv'.  or  the  latent  harmonies  of  the  highest  poetry  ;  for  him 
'the  diction'  of  Lycidas  'is  harsh,  the  rhymes  uncertain,  and 
the  numbers  unpleasing,'  and  Pope's  Iliad  is  superior  to 
Homer's.  At  the  same  time  Johnson's  judgments  are  often 
interesting  and  suggestive:  and  it  is  certain  that  his  Lives  '  far 
outdistanced  all  previous  English  works  in  literary  criticism.' 
But,  after  all,  it  was  in  his  table  talk  that  he  chiefly  shone  ; 
and,  in  a  sense,  Boswell's  Life  outweighs  all  Johnson's  own 
published  works.  In  1783  he  had  a  stroke  of  paralysis,  and. 
after  it  had  passed,  he  suffered  from  a  complication  of  diseases, 
and  died  December  13.  1784.  All  his  life  long  he  had  dreaded 
death;  but  when  the  end  was  drawing  near  he  became  peace- 
ful, and  refused  to  take  the  opium  offered  him  to  relieve  pain, 
when  he  was  told  it  could  not  cure  him  ;  'I  wish,'  said  he.  'to 
meet  my  God  with  an  unclouded  mind.' 

Jolmson  was  an  epitome  of  the    English    character    of    that 

age    at    its    best.      His    was    a    nature  like  the 

H<h  AsTMan1" '         gnarled,  stubborn  heart  of  oak  which  has  been 

hardened  and  twisted  bv  centuries  of  wind  and 


JOHNSON. 


271 


storm  Boswell  was  right  when  he  so  often  spoke  of  him  as 
the  true-born  Englishman.  It  is  significant  that  Taine  has 
little  or  no  sympathy  with  him  ;  indeed  there  is  much  truth  in 
the  remark  that  'no  foreigners  come  to  worship  at  the  shrine 
of  the  rugged  idol  whom  we  have  set  up.'  Rough  as  he  was, 
and  harsh  to  all  shallow  and  pretentious  people,  he  was  infinite- 
ly tender  at  heart.  Towards  all  who  were  in  poverty  or  distress 
he  was  almost  quixotically  benevolent ;  he  would  carry  home 
on  his  back  a  homeless  waif  whom  he  might  come  across  lying 
asleep  in  the  streets,  or  at  least  put  a  lew  pence  in  his  hand 
so  that  he  might  wake  up  to  the  joy  of  a  possible  breakfast 
In  Johnson's  case  especially  the  writer  was  the  man.  His 
poetry  in  form  is  simply  Dryden's  without  his 

(2)  As  a  Writer.  ...  j      t>  >  -.i  u-       cl 

literary  power,  and  Pope  s  without  his  fine 
polish,  but  suffused  and  strengthened  by  his  own  indomitable 
will.  'He  talked,'  as  Gosse  remarks,  'superb  literature  freely 
for  thirty  years,  and  all  England  listened  :  he  grew  to  be  the 
centre  of  literary  opinion,  and  he  was  so  majestic  in  intellect, 
so  honest  in  purpose,  so  kind  and  pure  in  heart,  so  full  of 
humour  and  resonable  sweetness,  and  yet  so  trenchant,  and 
at  need  so  grim,  ihat  he  never  sank  to  be  the  figure-head  of  a 
clique,  nor  ever  lost  the  balance  of  sympathy  with  readers  of 
every  rank  and  age.  His  influence  was  so  wide,  and  withal  so 
wholesome,  that  literarv  life  in  this  countrv  has  never  been 
since  his  day  what  it  was  before  it.  He  has  raised  a  standard 
of  personal  conduct  that  every  one  admits.  One  of  the  finest 
things  in  our  literature  is  the  letter  (p. 53)  in  which  he  stigmatises 
with  a  fine  scorn  Lord  Chesterfield's  belated  attempt  to 
patronise  a  genius  who,  unaided,  had  raised  himself  out  of  the 
obscurity  in  which  he  might  have  been  safely  neglected. 


QUATATIONS. 

There  mark  what  ills  the  scholar's  life  assail — 
Toil,  envy,  want,  the  patron,  and  the  jail. 

Vanity  of  Human   Wishes^  159—60. 


272  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

He  left  the  name  at  which  the  world  grew  pale, 
To  point  a  moral,  or  adorn  a  tale.     lb.  221 — 2. 
Superfluous  lags  the  veteran  on  the  stage.     lb.  308. 
From  Marlborough's  eyes  the  streams  of  dotage  flow, 
And  Swift  expires,  a  driveller  and  a  show.     lb.  317 — 8. 
Slow  rises  worth  by  poverty  depressed.     London.      173. 
And  panting  Time  toiled  after  him  (Shakespeare)  in  vain. 

Prologue  on  the  opening  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  6 . 
For  we  that  live  to  please  must  please  to  live.     Lb.     54. 
The  trappings  of  a  monarchy  would  set  up  an  ordinary  kingdom. 

Life  of  Milton. 
His  fGarrick's)  death  eclipsed  the  gaiety  of  nations,  and  impove- 
rished the  public    stock   of    harmless    pleasure.     Life    of  Edmund 
Smith. 

If  he  does  really  think  that  there  is  no  distinction  between 
virtue  and  vice,  why,  sir,  when  he  leaves  our  houses  let  us  count 
our  spoons.     BoswelPs  Johnson. 

Knowledge  is  of  two  kinds.  We  know  a  subject  ourselves,  or 
we  know  where  we  can  find  information  upon  it.  Lb. 

There  is  nothing  which  has  yet  been  contrived  by  man  by 
which  so  much  happiness  is  produced  as  by  a  good  tavern  or 
inn.     lb. 

Being  in  a  ship  is  being  in  jail  with  the  chance  of  being  drown- 
ed. A  man  in  ajail  has  more  room,  better  food,  and  commonly 
better  company.     lb. 

I  have  found  you  an  argument,  but  1  am  not  obliged  to  find  you 
an  understanding.     lb. 

'We  are  not  here  to  sell  a  parcel  of  boilers  and  vats,  but  the  poten- 
tiality of  growing  rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice.'     //;. 
Who  drives  fat  oxen  should  himself  be  fat.1     Lb. 
All  censure  of  a  man's  self  is  oblique  praise.     It  is   in  order   to 
show  how  much  he  can  spare.      It  has  all  the  insidiousness    of  self- 
praise,  and  all  the  reproach  of  falsehood.     lb. 

A  man  may  write  at  any  time  if  he  will  set  himself  doggedly  to 
it.     Lb. 

A  mere  literary  man  is  a  dull  man  ;  a  man  who  is  solely  a 
man  of  business  is  a  selfish  man  ;  but  when  literature  and 
commerce  aae  united  they  make  a  respectable  man.     //;. 


1  Parody  on  'Who  rules  o'er  freemen  should  himself  be  free,'  quoted 
by  Boswell. 


JOHNSON.  273 

Patriotism  is  the  last  refuge  of  a  scoundrel.     lb. 

No  man  is  a  hypocrite  in  his  pleasures.     lb. 

Clear  your  mind  of  cant.     lb. 

Marriage  has  many  pains,  but  celibacy  has  no  pleasures. 

Rasselas. 

When  two  Englishmen  meet  their  first  talk  is  of  the  weather. 

Idler  No.  II. 

Nothing  is  more  hopeless  than  a  scheme  of  merriment. 

lb.  No.  58. 

The  two  lowest  of  the  human  beings  are  a  scribbler  for  a 
party  and  a  commissioner  of  excise.     lb.  No.  65. 

Allow  children  to  be  happy  their  own  way  for  what  better 
way  will  they  ever  find  ?     Piozzi  Letters,  II,  165. 

I  asked  him  if  he  ever  huffed  his  wife  about  his  dinner. 
*  So  often  '  replied  he,  '  that  at  last  she  called  to  me  and  said, 
"  Nay,  hold,  Mr.  Johnson,  and  do  not  make  a  farce  of  thanking 
God  for  a  dinner  which  in  a  few  minutes  you  will  protest  not 
eatable.'"     Piozzi's  Anecdotes,  p.  150. 

Oats — a  grain  which  in  England  is  generally  given  to  horses, 
but  in  Scotland  supports  the  people.1     Dictionary. 

Is  not  a  patron,  my  lord,  one  who  looks  with  unconcern  on 
a  man  struggling  for  life  in  the  water,  and,  when  he  has  reached 
the  ground,  encumbers  him  with  help  ?  The  notice  which  you 
have  been  pleased  to  take  of  my  labours,  had  it  been  early, 
had  been  kind  ;  but  it  has  been  delayed  till  I  am  indifferent, 
and  cannot  enjoy  it  ;  till  I  am  solitary,  and  cannot  impart  it  ; 
till  I  am  known,  and  do  not  want  it.     Letter   to  Lord  Chesterfield. 


1   '  And   where   will   ye   find   such    horses  and  such  men  ? '  was  the 
Scotsman's  rejoinder. 

18 


GKAY  (1716-1771). 

Thomas    Gray,   a  lonely  star  of  poetry  shining  in  the  bleak 
Birth  and  twilight    of   an    age    of    prose,     was   born    in 

Parentage.  Cornhill,    London.   December  26,  1716.     His 

father  was  a  scrivener,  a  man  of  so  jealous  and  violent  a  temper 
that  his  wife  had  to  separate  from  him.  Thomas  was  the  only 
survivor  of  twelve  children,  and  he  too  nearly  died  in  infancy. 
With  such  antecedents  we  cannot  wonder  at  the  physical 
depression  that  marked  his  later  years.  But  he  was  cheered  by 
the  devoted  love  of  his  mother,  and  of  his  sister,  Mary  Antrobus, 
which  he  gratefully  cherished  and  tenderly  returned. 

In    1727    his    mother   sent  him  to  Eton  College,  where  he 
contracted  a  lasting   friendship  with  the  Prime 

Education.  ° 

Minister's  son,  Horace  Walpole,  and  with 
Richard  West,  son  of  the  Lord  Chancellor  of  Ireland.  From 
Eton  he  went  in  1734  to  Peterhouse,  Cambridge.  Shy  and 
reserved,  he  never  cared  for  the  ordinary  studies  or  sports  of 
the  Universitv ;  but  he  showed  himself  a  close  and  critical 
student,  with  keen  artistic  insight,  and  a  discernment  of  literary 
merit  far  in  advance  of  his  time.  Though  well-read  in 
classical  and  modern  literature,  he  passed  no  degree  exami- 
nation. 

In  March  1739  he  accompanied  Horace  Walpole  on  a  tour 
On  the  continent  through  the  towns  and  art  galleries  of  France 
&  at  Cambridge.       an(i  jta]y>     In  this  way   he    developed    to    the 

utmost  his  innate  love  of  music  and  art,  and  his  keen  sense  of 
beauties  of  romantic  scenery.  He  returned  home  in  Septem- 
ber 1 741.  Gray  now  gave  up  his  intended  study  of  law  ;  and 
after  settling  his  mother  and  aunt  at  Stoke  Po^es  near  Windsor 
he  retired  to  rooms  at  Peterhouse  ;  whence,  fifteen  years  later, 
he  migrated  to  Pembroke  Hall,  which  was  his  home  till  his 
death. 


GRAY.  275 

From  1744  Horace  Walpole's  residence  at   Strawberry   Hill 
H  ||d      R  became    occasionally    one    of    Gray's    visiting 

places  ;  but  his  mother's  and  aunt's  house  at 
Stoke  Poges  was  his  favourite  holiday  resort,  except  when  he 
was  travelling.  He  had  a  keen  eye  for  natural  scenery,  and 
was  among  the  earliest  to  discover  the  beauty  of  the  Highland 
mountains  which  English  people  then  regarded  almost  with 
horror. 

Gray's   early    poems    were  circulated  in  manuscript  for  the 
ode  on  Eton  perusal  of  the  friends  long  before  they  appear- 

College  ;  Elegy.  ^     jn     prjnt        Thug      ^      Qdg     Qn     a     njsfan/ 

Prospect  of  Eton  College,  written  in  1742,  was  not  published  till 
1747;  and  an  Ode  to  Spring,  sent  in  1742  to  his  friend  West, 
who  died  before  it  reached  him,  appeared  only  in  1748.  He 
completed  his  Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard  about  June,  1750 
at  Stoke  Poges,  where  he  had  begun  it  seven  years  previously. 
He  sent  it  to  Walpole  ;  it  was  extensively  circulated  and  much 
admired,  and  was  printed  in  February  1  75 1 .  Two  years  later 
Gray's  mother  died,  and  he  wrote  a  beautiful  epitaph  for  her 
tombstone  at  Stoke  Poges. 

The    next    six    years    of    Gray's    life    were    considered    by 
„  ,.  Walpole    to    have    been    the    time     when    his 

Progress  of  ^ 

Poesy;  Bard,  genius  was  'in  flower,'     The  Progress  of  Poesy 

was  finished  at  the  end  of  1754  •,  and  The 
Bard  was  begun,  though  it  was  not  completed  till  three  years 
later.  These  two  'Pindaric'  odes  were  published  in  1757,  and 
at  once  secured  his  reputation  as  the  greatest  of  living  poets. 
Upon  Colley  Cibber's  death  in  that  year  he  was  offered  the 
Laurea:eship,  but  declined  it.  In  1762  he  applied  to  Lord 
Bute  unsuccessfully  for  the  appointment  of  Professor  of  Modern 
History  at  Cambridge,  a  post  given  him  in  1768  by  the  Duke 
of  Grafton.  In  1760  he  began  a  special  investigation  of  early 
English  poetry,  intending  to  write  a  history  of  it.  He  also 
studied  Icelandic  and  Celtic  poetry,  the  results  of  which  studies 
were  seen  in  those  weird  poems,  The  Fatal  Sisters  and  The 
Descent  of  Odin.  In  1768  he  brought  out  a  complete  edition  of 
his  collected  poems. 


276  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Gray   intended    to   give  lectures  on  history,  but  chronic  i  1 1— 
Travels  and  health  prevented  his    doing    so.     He    suffered 

from  hereditary  gout,  though  he  was  most 
abstemious  in  his  habits.  Travelling  was  his  great  solace  ;  he 
visited  Scotland,  Wales,  and  the  English  Lakes,  the  beauties  of 
which  he  was  the  first  to  make  known.  On  July  24th  1771, 
he  was  seized  with  illness  in  the  College  Hall,  and  on  the  30th 
he  died.  He  was  buried  beside  his  mother  in  the  'Country 
Churchyard'  which  he  has  immortalized. 

His  Character;  Gray    has    half   unconsciously  sketched  his 

(1)  as  a  man.  own  character  in    the    closing    stanzas    of   his 

Elegy  :— 

'  Fair  Science  frowned  not  on  his  humble  birth, 

And  Melancholy  marked  him  for  her  own. 

Large  was  his  bounty  and  his  soul  sincere  ; 

Heaven  did  a  recompense  as  largely  send  ; 

He  gave  to  misery  all  he  had — a  tear, 

He  gained  from  Heaven  (  'twas  all  he  wished)  a  friend.' 

The  Elegy  shows  that  he  had  all  Wordworth's  profound 
sympathy  with  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  the  toiling  poor.  To 
tne  few  who  were  privileged  with  his  friendship,  his  life  was 
felt  to  be  an  elevating  inspiration.  But  it  was  not  easy  to  know 
him.  One  might  say  of  him  as  Wordsworth  says  of  the 
ideal  poet, 

'And  you  must  love  him  ere  to  you 
He  will  seem  worthy  of  your  love.' 

Gray  had  a  genuine  vein  of  humour.  His  Long  Story 
should  be  read  as  a  parallel  to  Cowper's  Joint  Gilpin  ;  it  has 
the  same  bantering  style,  and  shows  the  winning  and  loveable 
simplicity  that  we  find  so  strongly  marked  in  Cowper. 

Gray    himself    said    that  the  style  he  aimed  at  was  'extreme 
conciseness  of  expression,  yet  pure,    perspicu- 
ous,   and     musical' — words     which     perfectly 
describe  the  charm  of  his  Elegy.     Adam  Smith  says  that  'Gray 
joins  to   the    sublimity  of  Milton  the  elegance  and  harmony  of 
Pope' ;  and  Sir  James  Mackintosh's  verdict  is    'Of   all   English 


GRAY.  277 

poets  he  was  the  most  finished  artist.'  His  prose  was  perhaps 
even  more  perfect  than  his  poetry.  Hannah  More  declares 
that  his  letters  '  possess  all  the  graces  and  all  the  ease  which 
ought  to  distinguish  this  species  of  composition.  They  have 
also  another  and  a  higher  excellence  :  the  temper  and  spirit  he 
constantly  discovers  in  the  unguarded  confidence  and  security 
of  friendship  will  rank  him  among  the  most  amiable  of  men.' 

The  Elegy  is  the  best  known  and  most  widely  appreciated  of 
Th  Me  all  Gray's  poems.     It  was    not   of   course   ac- 

tually 'written  in  a  Country  Churchyard,'  as 
the  title  states,  but  it  was  begun  and  finished  at  Stoke  Poges ; 
and  on  each  occasion  his  thoughts  were  turned  towards  it  by 
the  death,  first  of  his  dear  friend  West,  and  then  of  his  beloved 
aunt.  Its  main  idea  is  a  pensive  sympathy  with  the  unknown, 
unrecorded,  moral  heroism  that  often  marks  the  life  of  the 
labourer  on  the  land.  The  numerous  Quotations  that  follow 
show  how  deeply  this  poem  has  impressed  itself  upon  the 
national  thought.  Wolfe  recited  it  on  his  way  to  his  last 
battle  and  declared  he  would  rather  have  written  it  than  take 
Quebec.  It  has  been  objected  by  some  critics  that  it  might 
have  been  written  by  a  Pagan,  because  it  contains  no  explicit 
recognition  of  the  Resurrection.  This  criticism  is  as  untrue  as 
it  is  irrelevant.  It  is  not  the  poet's  business  to  expound  the 
dogmas  of  the  Christian  faith,  or  even  to  refer  to  them.  At 
the  same  time,  though  the  poem  very  rightly  eschews  all  re- 
ference to  Christian  dogma,  it  is  suffused  throughout  with  a 
distinctively  Christian  feeling  and  tone. 

In    his  Ode  on  a  Distant  Prospect  of  Eton  College,  Gray  has 

described   with    pathetic    fidelity    the  feelings 

CoiiegT°a  ^h  which    mature    age    looks   back   on    the 

thoughtless  joys    of   boyhood,    in   the   mimic 

world    of   Eton,  all  unconscious  as  it  is  of  the  grim  realities  so 

soon  awaiting  it  in  the  fierce  conflicts  of  the  world. 

The  two   Pindaric    Odes,    The    Progress  of  Poesy  and  The 

Bard,  are  by  some  critics  held  to  be  of  higher 

The  Podes.ri°  artistic    merit   than    the    Elegy,   the  power  of 

which  is  so    much    due    to   its    subject.     The 


278  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

former  ode  shows  that  Gray  was  still  largely  influenced  by  the 
formal  classicism  of  the  school  of  Pope,  but  was  beginning  to 
attain  the  pure,  spiritual  freedom  of  Shelley's  handling  of 
legend  and  myth.  It  is  a  history,  in  rhythmical  rhetoric  imitat- 
ing the  form  of  Pindar's  Odes,  of  the  development  of  poetry 
among  all  nations,  especially  Greece,  Italy  and  England.  The 
splendid  idealisation  of  Milton's  blindness,  and  the  well-known 
description  of  Dryden's  heroic  couplet  will  be  found  in  the 
Quotations.  The  Bard  is  based  upon  a  tradition  that  Edward 
I,  after  his  conquest  of  Wales,  ordered  all  the  bards  to  be 
slaughtered.  One  of  these,  in  a  tranced  vision  foretells  the 
tragic  miseries  which  should  hereafter  befall  Edward's  royal 
descendants,  and  how  the  power  of  Song,  under  happier 
auspices,  should  rise  triumphant  in  the  end. 


QUOTATIONS. 

They  hear  a  voice  in  every  wind, 

And  snatch  a  fearful  joy.     Eton  College,  ST.  4. 

No  more  ;  where  ignorance  is  bliss, 

'Tis  folly  to  be  wise.     lb.  ST.   10. 

He  saw  ;  but,  blasted  with  excess  of  light, 

Closed  his  eyes  in  endless  night. 

Progress  of  Poesy,  in.  2.  7-8  (of  Milton). 
Bright-eyed  Fancy,  hovering  o'er, 
Scatters  from  her  pictured  urn, 
Thoughts  that  breathe,  and  words  that  burn. 

Progress  of  Poesy,  in.  3.  2-4. 
Youth  on  the  prow,  and  Pleasure  at  the  helm. 

Bard  II.  2.    12. 
Ye  towers  of  Julius,  London's  lasting  shame, 
With  many  a  foul  and  midnight  murder  fed.     Bard,  II.  3.  11-12. 
Iron  sleet  or  arrowy  shower, 
Hurtles  in  the  darkened  air.     Fatal  Sister,  3. 


GRAY.  279 

The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day, 

The  lowing  herd  winds  slowly  o'er  the  lea, 

The  ploughman  homeward  plods  his  weary  way, 

And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness  and  to  me.     Elegy,  ST.  I. 

Each  in  his  narrow  cell  for  ever  laid, 

The  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet  sleep.     lb.  ST.  4. 

The  breezy  call  of  incense-breathing  morn.     lb.  ST.  5. 

Nor  grandeur  hear  with  a  disdainful  smile 

The  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor.     lb.  ST.  8. 

The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave.     lb.  ST.  9. 

Where,  through  the  long-drawn  aisle  and  fretted  vault, 
The  pealing  anthem  swells  the  note  of  praise.     lb.  ST.  10. 

Full  many  a  gem  of  purest  ray  serene 

The  dark  unfathomed  caves  of  ocean  bear  : 

Full  may  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 

And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air.     lb.  ST.  14. 

Some  village  Hampden,  that,  with  dauntless  breast, 

The  little  tyrant  of  his  fields  withstood  ; 

Some  mute  inglorious  Milton  here  may  rest, 

Some  Cromwell  guiltless  of  his  country's  blood.     lb.  ST.  15. 

The  common  sun,  the  air,  the  skies, 

To  him  are  opening  paradise.      Vicissitude,  55-6 

A  favourite  has  no  friend.     Death  of  a  Cat,  36. 

Too  poor  for  a  bribe,  and  too  proud  to  importune  ; 
He  had  not  the  method  of  making  a  fortune  : 
Could  love  and  could  hate,  so  was  thought  somewhat  odd  ; 
No  very  great  wit,  he  believed  in  a    God.     Sketch  of  his   own 

Character, 

In  vain  to  me  the  smiling  mornings  shine, 
And  reddening  Phoebus  lifts  his  golden  fire  ; 
The  birds  in  vain  their  amorous  descant  join  ; 
Or  cheerful  fields  resume  their  green  attire  ; 
These  ears,  alas  !  for  other  notes  repine  ; 
A  different  object  do  these  eyes  require  ; 
My  lonely  anguish  melts  no  heart  but  mine  ; 
And  in  my  breast  the  imperfect  joys  expire. 
Yet  morning  smiles  the  busy  race  to  cheer, 
And  new-born  pleasure  brings  to  happier  men  ; 


280  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

The  fields  to  all  their  wonted  tribute  bear  ; 
To  warm  their  little  loves  the  birds  complain  ; 
I  fruitless  mourn  to  him  that  cannot  hear, 
And  weep  the  more,  because  I  weep  in  vain. 

Sonnet  on  the  Death  of  West. 


GOLDSMITH  (1728-1776). 

Oliver  Goldsmith,  poet,  dramatist,    and    prose    writer,   was 
born  at  Pallasmore  Longford,  Ireland,  Novem- 

cBhiidhood.  ber  IO>  I728-      His  fatner  was  a  clergyman  of 

English    extraction,    who    later  on  obtained  a 

small    living   at  Lissoy,    in    West  Meath  ;  so  that  Goldsmith's 

boyhood   was   spent   in   the  typical  Irish  village  which  he  has 

idealised  and  immortalised  in  The  Deserted  Village. 

At  the  village    school,    kept    by    Paddy  Byrne,  Goldsmith 
Education  usec*    t0    amuse    himself    with    writing  verses, 

which  pleased  his  parents,  who  determined  to 
give  him  a  better  education.  Accordingly  he  was  sent  to  the 
scholastic  charge  of  different  clergymen  to  be  prepared  for  the 
University.  On  one  occasion  a  practical  joke  was  played  upon 
him  by  his  school-fellows  ;  he  was  directed  to  stay  at  a  gentle- 
man's house  under  the  belief  that  it  was  an  inn.  This  ludi- 
crous adventure  proved  afterwards  the  central  situation  in  his 
comedy  of  She  Stoops  to  Conquer.  In  June  1744  Goldsmith 
was  admitted  a  sizar  (or  poor  scholar)  of  Trinity  College, 
Dublin  ;  but  he  was  very  irregular  both  in  his  studies  and 
habits,  and  repeatedly  got  into  trouble  with  the  authorities. 
He  took  his  B.  A.  degree  in  1749  two  years  after  the 
proper  time. 

Goldsmith's  father  had  died  while  he  was  at  the  University, 
_  and  his  uncle,    Mr.    Contarine,    did    his   best 

European  tour. 

to  look  after  his  erratic  nephew.  He  tried  to 
get  him  into  the  Church,  but  Goldsmith  recklessly  went  to  the 
Bishop's  examination  in  scarlet  hunting  breeches,  and  was 
naturally  rejected.  An  abortive  attempt  to  study  law  in 
England  followed  ;  but  he  got  no  further  than  Dublin,  where  he 
lost  all  his  money  to  a  card-sharper.  In  1752  he  was  sent  to 
Edinburgh  to  learn  medicine,  and  narrowly  escaped  imprison- 
ment there,  through  having  good-naturedly  become  surety  for  a 


-82  A   HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

friend's  debts  to  his  tailor.  After  a  year  spent  in  Holland, 
having  run  through  his  money,  he  went  on  his  famous  tour 
through  Europe,  earning  (if  we  are  to  believe  The  Traveller 
243-250)  his  meals  and  his  night's  lodging  by  playing  on  the 
flute.  His  tour  ended  at  Padua,  where  he  stayed  for  six 
months  and  professed  to  have  taken  a  medical  degree.  He 
returned  home  in  the  same  eccentric  fashion,  and  arrived  in 
London  in  1756.  This  tour  was  the  basis  of  1  he  Traveller. 
Goldsmith  now  had  much  ado    to    earn    a   livelihood,,  first 

by  being  an  usher  in  a  school,  then  by  helping 
'  'world     "        a  chemist  in  his  laboratory,  then  by  practising 

as  a  medical  man  among  the  poor  of  London. 
Tired  of  these  pursuits,  he  became  a  hack-writer  for  the 
publishers,  and  in  addition  to  An  Enquiry  into  the  State  of 
Polite  Learning  in  Europe  (1759),  and  The  Bee  (1759),  a 
collection  of  essays,  he  wrote  a  series  of  satirical  letters,  which 
professed  to  be  from  a  Chinese  traveller  studying  English 
manners  and  customs,  and  which  were  afterwards  published  as 
The  Citizen  of  the    World  (1762). 

In    May    1761,    he    moved    into    better    lodgings    in  Wine 

Office  Court,  Fleet    Street,    where    his    friend- 

I  i'ii  i'i  ' lev  ' 

Vicar  of'  ship    with    Johnson    began;    and    in  1764  he 

became  one  of  the  nine  original  members  of 
the  Doctor's  Literary  Club.  Johnson  revised  for  him 
his  poem,  The  7 raveller,  and  added  a  few  lines  at  the  close. 
It  was  published  in  1765,  and  at  once  made  Goldsmith  famous. 
His  reputation  was  enhanced  by  the  appearance,  in  1766,  of 
his  one  novel.  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  which  had  previously 
been  sold  for  /"60  to  a  publisher  by  Johnson,  to  rescue  its 
author  from  imprisonment  for  debt. 

At  the  outset  of  his  literary  career  he  had  attempted  to 
write  a  tragedy,  but  gave  up  the  idea  as  hope- 

Desert,, 1  jess       He  now  tried  his  hand  at  Comedy,  anc 

Village.  '  , 

composed  The  Good-natured  Alan,  which  was 
refused  by  Garrick,  but  brought  out  by  Colman  at  Covent 
Garden  Theatre  in  1768  with  moderate  success.  In  1770  he 
published    The    Deserted    Village,  to  which  Johnson  contribut- 


GOLDSMITH.  283 

ed  the  last  six  lines  ■  and  in  1773  attained  a  triumphant  success 
with    his    comedy    She    Sloops    to    Cofiquer,    which    is     still     a 
favourite  on  the  stage. 

Besides  producing  these  works  of  original  genius,  he  gained 
his  livelihood  chiefly    by    making    bright    and 

Hack-work.  J        J  00 

readable  compilations  of  standard  works  on 
various  subjects — histories  of  Greece,  of  Rome,  and  of  Eng- 
land •,  a  book  on  Natural  History  (Goldsmith  himself  'did  not 
know  a  goose  from  a  turkey  except  at  table' ,1  ;  Lives  of  Boling- 
broke,  Parnell,  Voltaire,  and  Nash  ;  a  short  English  Grammar, 
and  a  collection  of  Beauties  of  English  Poetry. 

His    last    two    poems,    Retaliation,    a    series  of    humorous 
,  D  ,  ,.  ..     ,  epitaphs    on  his  friends  written  in    'retaliation' 

'  Retaliation  '  ;  r       r 

•Haunch  of  for    their    criticisms    on    himself,    and    a  witty 

venison.'  J 

letter  in  rhyme  addressed  to  Lord  Clare, 
entitled  The  Haunch  of  Venison,  were  published  after  his  death. 
His  experiences  of  life  failed  to  cure  him  of  his  irregular 
habits;  and  he  was  two  thousand  pounds  in  debt  when  he  died, 
after  a  brief  illness,  April  4,  1774.  He  was  buried  at  the 
Temple,  but  a  monument  was  erected  to  him  in  Westminster 
Abbey  by  his  literary  friends. 

Goldsmith's  fault  were  venial,  and  his   character    was    most 
Character  ;  loveable.      He  was  a  queer  compound  of   con- 

(1)  As  a  man.  tradictory  qualities:  he  was  reckless,  thought- 
less, and  vain,  yet  generous  and  prompt  to  love  and  pity  ;  as 
easily  duped  as  a  child,  and  yet  obstinately  unwilling  to  be  cor- 
rected in  his  most  palpable  blunders.  Garrick's  epigram  that 
he  'wrote  like  an  angel  and  talked  like  poor  Poll'  was  mainly 
due  to  a  passage  in  the  Enquiry  (p.  286),  which  Garrick  chose 
to  interpret  as  an  attack  upon  himself ;  and  Boswell's  hostility 
arose  most  probably  from  jealousy.  The  fact  appears  to  be,  as 
a  modern  writer  has  pointed  out,  that  the  poet's  vanity  was  'not 
an  eagerness  to  display  powers  of  which  he  was  conscious,  but 
an  eagerness  to  reassure  himself  of  the  possession  of  powers  of 
which  he  was  diffident.'  According  to  Macaulay,  There  was 
in  his  character  much  to  love,  but  little  to  respect:  so  generous 
that    he    quite   forgot    to   be  just ;  so  liberal  to  beggars  that  he 


284  A   HANDBOOK  OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

had  nothing  left  for  his  tailor  and  his  butcher.  He  was  vain, 
sensual,  frivolous,  profuse,  improvident.'  And  yet  at  the  news 
of  his  death  Burke  burst  into  tears,  and  Reynolds  could  do  no 
more  painting  that  day. 

One  of  Goldsmith's  most  useful  talents  was  a  wonderful 
(2)  As  a  writer.  capacity  for  taking  any  dry,  voluminous, 
standard  work,  picking  out  its  essential  sub- 
stance, and  rewriting  it  briefly  in  the  clearest  and  most  interest- 
ing style.  His  hack-work,  mentioned  above,  presents  numer- 
ous instances.  In  his  own  proper  sphere,  he  is  unsurpassed 
for  human  tenderness  and  graceful  delicacy  of  thought.  His 
heroic  couplet  has  a  simplicity  and  grace  of  its  own.  Blank 
verse,  and  the  lyric  forms  of  Gray  and  Collins  he  rather  despis- 
ed. It  was  as  a  dramatist  and  a  prose  writer  that  he  really 
made  his  mark  on  our  literature.  But  he  has  a  limited  range  ; 
the  ethics  of  his  one  novel  are  merely  conventional  ;  the  eternal 
verities  of  nature  and  of  man  are  beyond  his  scope  ;  all  his 
imaginative  work  is  little  more  than  thinly  disguised  reminis- 
cences. But  within  his  narrow  limits  he  has  an  inimitable 
charm. 

From    Cooke,    one  of    Goldsmith's  friends  and  neighbours 
Deserted  m  trie    Temple,    we    know    something    of   his 

Village.  literary  methods.     He  first  sketched  his  design 

in  prose,  then  rewrote  it  in  verse,  then  patiently  corrected  and 
recorrected  it ;  and  if  any  lines  spontaneously  occurred  to  him, 
he  polished  these  afterwards  with  all  the  more  care  because  of 
their  impromptu  origin.  Cooke  came  into  Goldsmith's  room  one 
day,  when  the  latter  read  with  great  delight  the  four  lines  of 
The  Deserted  Village  beginning  'Dear  lovely  bowers,'  which 
he  had  just  finished.  Goldsmith  considered  that  amount  '  No 
bad  morning's  work.'  Yet  no  poem  seems  simpler  or  more 
spontaneous.  In  it  we  find  his  own  father  (or  perhaps  his  elder 
brother,  also  a  clergyman)  idealised  as  the  village  preacher 
and  the  Lissoy  schoolmaster  and  village  inn  transplanted  to 
English  soil.  The  rest  of  the  poem  is  a  denunciation  of  the 
corrupting  influence  of  the  modern  commercial  spirit  and  the 
greed  of  gain    on   the    real   wealth   of   the    country,   viz :   the 


GOLDSMITH.  285 

hardy,  self-respecting  peasantry.  Goldsmith's  political  economy 
is  of  doubtful  value,  and  his  ethical  estimates  are  very  one- 
sided ;  but  he  has  thrown  his  own  graceful  charm  over  what  is 
Teally  a  political  pamphlet  in  verse. 

Much  the  same  criticism  applies  to  The  Traveller.  It  is, 
more  largely  than  The  Deserted  Village,  a  ser- 
mon  in  verse  ;  and  its  chief  interest,  the  poet  s 
personal  reminiscences,  form  a  much  less  conspicuous  part  of 
the  whole  than  in  the  latter  poem.  In  The  Traveller  Gold- 
smith has  hardly  risen  to  his  usual  poetic  strain  ;  his  couplets 
are  heavier,  and  the  whole  is  more  laboured. 

Fortunately  this  tendency    to    sermonise    is    wholly    absent 
vicar  ot  from    Goldsmith's    novel.     Such    sermons    as 

Wakefield.  arg  met  wjth    occur    naturally    as    the  sponta- 

neous utterances  of  good  Dr.  Primrose,  the  Vicar,  or  of  the 
eccentric  Mr.  Burchell.  Goldsmith's  own  personality  and 
varied  experiences  all  reappear  under  the  whimsical  disguises 
of  his  dramatis  personae  :  Moses,  with  his  gross  of  green 
spectacles,  is  a  mere  variant  of  one  of  Goldsmith's  own  earlier 
escapades.  The  characters  are  all  intensely  true  to  nature, 
the  humour  is  delightful,  and  the  whole  story  vividly  repro- 
duces in  a  form  at  once  real  and  romantic  the  rustic  life  of 
England  in  a  bygone  age. 

QUOTATIONS. 

Remote,  unfriended,  melancholy,  slow.     Traveller,   1. 

And  drags  at  each  remove  a  lengthening  chain.     lb.  10. 

And  learn  the  luxury  of  doing  good.     lb.  22. 

But  winter  lingering  chills  the  lap  of  May.     lb.  172. 

Pride  in  their  port  defiance  in  their  eye, 

I  see  the  lords  of  humankind  pass  by.     lb.  327—8. 

Ill  fares  the  land,  to  hastening  ills  a  prey, 

Where  wealth  accumulates  and  men  decay. 

Princes  and  lords  may  flourish,  or  may  fade, 

A  breath  can  make  them,  as  a  breath  has  made  ; 

P>ut  a  bold  peasantry,  their  country's  pride, 

When  once  destroyed,  can  never  be  supplied. 

Deserted  Village,  51—6. 


286  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

The  loud  laugh  that  spoke  the  vacant  mind.     lb.   122. 
Passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year.     lb.  142. 

The  broken  soldier 

Shouldered  his  crutch  and  showed  how  fields  were  won.  lb.  158. 

His  pity  gave  ere  charity  began,     lb.   162. 

Truth  from  his  lips  prevailed  with  double  sway, 

And  fools  who  came  to  scoff  remained  to  pray.     lb.  179  —  180. 

For  e'en  though  vanquished,  he  could  argue  still  ; 

And  still  the  wonder  grew 

That  one  small  head  could  carry  all  he  knew.     lb.  211— 216. 

The  chest  contrived  a  double  debt  to  pay, 

A  bed  by  night,  a  chest  a  drawers  by  day.     lb.  229—230. 

Who,  born  for  the  universe,  narrowed  his  mind, 

\nd  to  party  gave  up  what  was  meant  for  mankind. 

Who,  too  deep  for  his  heaters,  still  went  on  refining, 

And  thought  of  convincing  while  they  thought  of  dining. 

Retaliation  (on  Burke),  31—  3^ 
On  the  stage  he  was  natural,  simple,  affecting  ; 
'Twas  only  that  when  he  was  off  he  was  acting. 

lb.  (on  Garrick),  101— 2. 
When  they  talked  of  their  Raphaels  Corregios,  and  stuff, 
He  shifted  his  trumpet,  and  only  took  snuff. 

lb.  (on  Reynolds),  I45~ 6' 
The  naked  every  day  he  clad  — 

WThen  he  put  on  his  clothes.     Death  of  a  Mad  Dog,  1 1  — 12. 
Measures,  not  men,  have  always  been  my  mark.  (p.  2°2)- 

Good-natured  Man,  ii. 

The  very  pink  of  perfection.     She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  i. 
Ask  me  no  questions  and  I'll  tell  you  no  fibs.     lb.  iii. 
Such  dainties  to  them,  their  health  it  might  hurt  ; 
It's  like  sending  them  ruffles  when  wanting  a  shirt. 

Haunch  of  Venison,  33 — 4. 
Man  wants  but  little  here  below, 
Nor  wants  that  little  long.     Hermit,  ST.  6. 


BURKE  (1729—1797) 

Edmund     Burke,      perhaps    one    of    the     most      lastingly 
Birth  and  influential  among  those  few    Englishmen    who 

Parentage.  have     combined     devotion   to     literature   with 

strenuous  activity  in  Parliamentary  statesmanship,  'the  greatest 
man  since  Milton,'  as  Macaulay  called  him — was  born  in  1729 
at  Dublin,  where  his  father  was  a  successful  attorney.  His 
mother  belonged  to  an  influential  Roman  Catholic  family. 
Burke's  literary  work  is  so  inseparably  bound  up  with  his  rela- 
tions to  contemporary  party-politics  that  it  is  necessary  for  the 
student  to  keep  before  his  mind's  eye  a  clear  outline  of  the 
history  of  that  time. 

George    III,    on    his    accession    to    the    throne    in     176O, 
George  ill's  inaugurated    a    new  era  in   politics.  The  great 

pohcy.  Whig  party  which  had  triumphed  so  conspicu- 

ously in  the  Revolution  of  1688,    and    in    the     settlement    then 
made  of  the  prerogatives  of  the  Crown  and  the  rights  of  Parlia- 
ment, was  now  beginning  to  break  up  into  factions.     From  the 
first  the  king  resolved  to  '  be  a  king,'  and  to  this  policy  he  dog- 
gedly adhered  throughout  his  long  and  inglorious    reign.     His 
ideal  was  to  be  a  popular  king,  ruling  firmly  in  accordance  with 
the  laws  by  the  goodwill  of  his  people,  as  the  Tudors  had  done. 
He  detested  the  position  of  a  mere  figure-head  to  the  particular 
Parliamentary  party  which  might  happen  to  be  in  power  for  the 
time  being.     He  would  manage  the    Parliament  ;  they     should 
not  manage  him.     This  idea  of  his  office  had  been    sedulously 
instilled  into  his  mind  from  the  first  by  his  mother,   and  by  his 
tutor,  the  Marquis  of  Bute.     It   had     been     invested    with    the 
highest  literary  charm  by  the  genius  of  Bolingbroke  in  his  tract 
The  Patriot  King.   His  stubborn  conscientiousness,  the  blame- 
lessness  of  his  domestic  life,  and  his  homely  good-nature  made 
him  the  idol  of  the  people.  The  reaction  against  Whiugism,  of 
which  he  was  the  embodiment,  was  a    national    reaction.     His 


288  A   HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

errors  were  the  errors  of  the  nation.  The  American  War  was 
the  outcome  of  our  national  pride  ;  and  the  great  war  with 
France,  unpopular  at  first,  soon  became  a  war  of  almost  religi- 
ous and  national  enthusiasm.  Had  George  III  been  a  man  of 
intellectual  power,  or  had  he  had  the  wit  to  choose  able 
ministers  and  govern  through  them,  he  might  have  established 
a  more  than  Tudor  despotism.  Fortunately  for  England  he 
was  ignorant  and  narrow-minded,  and  jealous  of  the  least  sign 
of  ability  in  his  ministers.  Hence  his  career  was  one  long 
failure. 

The  older  Tories,  who  had  been  fanatical  adherents   of  the 
Stuart  cause  under  the  first  two  Georges,    had 
been  gradually  disillusionised  by   the  logic  of 
events.     The  Pretender  in  171 5  had  crossed  the  sea  to  hearten 
his  half-defeated  followers,  and  had     ingloriously     sailed    back 
again    without  striking  a  blow,  leaving  them  to  their  fate.     His 
son,  the  '  Bonnie  Prince  Charlie,'  had  been  more  chivalrous  and 
more  successful ;  but  he  too  had  been    crushed    at    Culloden, 
chiefly  through  his  inability  to  control  his  Highland    followers  ; 
and    he    was  now  closing  an  inglorious  career  abroad.     When, 
therefore,  a  new  King  came,  a    born    Englishman,    a     '  Patriot 
King,'    who   was   on     principle     the    sworn  foe  of  the  detested 
Whigs,  the  Tories  naturally  rallied  round  him.  and    transferred 
their  allegiance  from  the  Stuarts  to  the  Hou^e  of  Hanover. 
There  were  at  least  four  sections  of  the    Whig    party.     The 
The  whig  most  reputable  was  that  headed  by  the  Marquis 

factions.  Gf  Rockingham,  with  which  Burke    was    asso- 

ciated. The  most  popular,  but  the  weakest,  was  led  by  Pitt, 
the  great  Earl  of  Chatham.  In  all  alike  favouritism,  family 
influence,  and  partizan  dexterity,  were  the  avenues  to  promo- 
tion. They  differed  from  one  another  chiefly  in  the  extent  to 
which  they  used  the  weapons  of  cajolery  and  corruption,  which 
during  his  long  tenure  of  office  the  great  Whig  Walpole  had 
reduced  to  a  science. 

The    Democratic    party  was  unfortunate  in  its  chosen  idol, 

The  Democratic      John  Wilkes,  the  member    for     Aylesbury,    a 

Partv  scurrilous    profligate,  who  came  into  notoriety 


BURKE.  289 

by  his  outspoken  denunciation  of  the  King's  policy  (1763),  and 
by  the  repeated  failures  of  the  attempts  to  crush  and  silence 
him  on  the  part  both  of  the  Crown  and  the  Parliament.  Four 
times  returned  to  Parliament  by  the  electors  of  Middlesex,  he 
was  four  times  refused  admittance.  In  the  end  he  conquered, 
took  his  seat,  and  became  Mayor  of  London.  The  popular 
discontent  against  both  Crown  and  Parliament  was  reflected  in 
the  fierce  invectives  of  the  Letter  of  Jutiins  (p.  55).  For  indeed 
Parliament  during  this  epoch  did  not  in  any  real  sense  re- 
present the  people  ;  it  was  a  bureaucracy  of  landed  proprietors. 
The  King  and  the  Court  party  fought  against  the  Whigs  by 
using  Walpole's  own  weapon    of    systematized 

Successive  .  ...  •  cc  t 

Ministries.  corruption  against  his  successors  in  ornce.     in 

addition  the  Crown  held  complete  control  over 
promotion  in  the  Church  and  the  Army,  and  over  many  places 
in  the  Civil  administration  and  about  the  Court.  George  III 
profited  by  the  lessons  of  experience.  His  first  attempt  at 
'Kingship'  in  the  Bute  ministry  of  1761  was  a  failure.  He 
then  tried  to  induce  Pitt  to  take  office,  but  Pitt  refused  unless 
all  sections  of  the  Whigs  should  be  represented  in  the  Govern- 
ment. The  King  then  took  up  with  the  narrowest  and  most 
corrupt   of   the    Whig    cliques   led  by  George 

(2)  Grenville's.         ~  ...  _,,  ,-,  .....  ,       ,         . 

Grenville.  The  Grenville  ministry  (1763-5) 
involved  itself  in  the  disastrous  attack  on  the  freedom  of  the 
Press  in  the  Wilkes  case  ;  and  initiated  the  still  more  disastrous 
interference  with  the  freedom  of  the  American  Colonies  by  the 
ill-fated  Stamp  Act.  Grenville  resigned,  and  the  King  again 
had  to  content  himself  with  using  the  only  available  section  of 
the    Whigs,   and    so    formed    the  feeble  Rockingham  ministry 

(1765-6).  Pitt's  open  approval  of  the  resistance 

(3)  Rockingham's.     Qf    ^     Colonists    ]ed     tQ    the     repeal     of      [he 

obnoxious  Stamp  Act,  though  the  right  to  tax  the  Colonies  was 
still  asserted.  But  the  King  found  it  impossible  to  govern 
without  Pitt ;  Pitt  accordingly  constructed  a 
ministry  (1766)  representing  all  the  Whig  sec- 
tions that  could  be  induced  to  join,  and,  to  the  King's  out- 
spoken   delight,    he   gave  a  few  subordinate  posts  to  the  Court 

19 


290  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

party.     But  conscious  of  the  approaches  of  disease,  the   '  Great 

Commoner'   took    refuge  in  the  Upper  House  from  the  storms 

of  debate,  being  created  Earl  of  Chatham,  and  thus  for   a   time 

lost  his  popularity.     The  Chatham  administra- 

(5)  Grafton  S  .  ,  ,  ,  ^,       ,  ,        .„  u       ul 

tion  lasted  only  a  year.  Chatham  s  ill-health 
deprived  it  fof  the  services  of  its  head  ;  and  it  became  the 
Grafton    Ministry   (1768-70),    and     subsequently     the     North 

ministry  (1770-1782).      These    two    ministries 

(6;  North's.  ,,  .  .  , 

were  in  fact  a  coalition  of  the  worst  of  the 
Whig  factions  and  the  Court  party ;  Lord  North  was  the  mere 
mouthpiece  of  the  King.  The  crushing  disaster  of  the  York- 
town  surrender  made  the  continuance  of  the  American  War 
and  of  the  ministry  alike  impossible.    A  Whig  ministry,  formed 

under  Lord  Rockingham  (1782),  lasted  till  his 

(7)  Rocking-  °  \in 

ham's  2nd,  death  in  July.     Lord  Shelburne  the    leader    of 

(S)  Shelburne's.  ,  _.       ,  .  .     ,        __,  .         .     ,.    , 

the    Chatham  section  of  the  Whigs  (which  was 

strengthened  by  the  entrance  into    Parliament    of  the   younger 

Pitt)    now    became    prime-minister;     but  on  his  accession  Fox 

and  his  followers    deserted.     This    Shelburne    ministry  (1782- 

1783)    lasted    till  the    conclusion  of  the  Peace  of  Paris,  when  it 

was  overthrown  by   the    unscrupulous   coalition    of   the    Whig 

(9)  Portland's         followers  of  Fox  with    the    Tory    followers    of 
■Coalition.'  Lord  North  under  the  Duke  of  Portland  (1783- 

1784).     Fox  brought  forward  an  injudicious    India    Bill    which 
raised    a   storm    of   opposition  in  the  country.     The  King  saw- 
that  it  would  transfer  the  patronage  of  the  East  India  Company 
(10,  Pitt  the  from  the  Crown  to  the  Whigs  ;  he   accordingly 

availed  himself  of  the  extreme  unpopularity 
of  the  Bill  to  throw  it  out  in  the  Lords  and  to  dismiss  his  mini- 
sters. Pitt  now  formed  his  ministry  at  the  close  of  17S3  ;  early 
next  year  Parliament  was  dissolved  ;  Pitt  appealed  to  the  coun- 
try, and  was  returned  with  an  overwhelming  majority.  His 
administration  lasted  till  1 80 1,  thus  covering  the  latter  part  of 
Burke's  political  career. 

Burke  was  educated  in  Ireland  in  a  school  at  Ballitore,  then 

at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  where  he  took    his 

Education. 

B.  A.    degree    in    1748,  having  passed  his  aca- 


BURKE.  291 

deniic  course  without  special  distinction.  In  T750  he  entered 
the  Middle  Temple,  London  to  study  law,  but  after  a  time 
abandoned  it. 

For  ten  years  his  career   is    almost   unknown,    but  for  his 
_    .  production    of   two    interesting  books,    both 

Early  writings  K  ° 

published  in  1756.  These  are  A  Vindication 
of  Natural  Society  and  An  Inquiry  into  the  Origin  of  our  ideas 
of  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful.  The  latter  is  an  original  and 
thoughtful  treatise,  which  greatly  influenced  both  Lessing  and 
Kant,  and  was  pronounced  in  Germany  to  be  an  'epoch-making 
book.'  The  former  is  like  Defoe's  Short  Way  with  the  Dissen- 
ters, a  piece  of  veiled  irony,  proving  (in  travesty  of  Bolingbroke 
in  regard  to  revealed  religion)  that  civilization  itself  is  the  root 
of  all  evil.  Like  Defoe's  pamphlet  it  was  for  some  time  read  and 
received  as  a  srenuine  confession  of  faith.  Underneath  all  the 
subtle  irony  of  Burke's  Vindication  lie  the  two  lines  of  thought 
that  dominated  his  intellectual  career  from  beginning  to  end  : 
(1)  that  the  restraints  of  revealed  religion  are  indispensable  to 
the  stability  of  society,  and  (2)  that  to  allow  every  individual 
to  think  out  the  whole  scheme  of  things  for  himself,  unfettered 
by  prescription  and  the  traditional  wisdom  of  the  ages  past, 
is  the  high  road  to  national  ruin. 

In  1756  Burke    married    the    daughter    of    Dr.  Nugent,    a 
Marriage ;  enters      physician    at    Bath.       They     had    one    son. 
Parliament.  Richard,    whose    untimely    death  in    1794    no 

doubt  hastened  his  father's  end.  In  1759  Burke  brought  him- 
self into  notice  in  the  political  world  by  his  contributions  to 
Dodsley's  Annual  Register,  a  summary  of  the  political  history 
of  each  year.  In  1761  he  was  appointed  Private  Secretary  to 
W.  H.  Hamilton  (nick-named  'Single  speech'),  Lord  Halifax's 
Irish  Secretary,  and  held  the  post  for  three  years.  In  1764  he 
was  one  of  the  first  members  enrolled  in  the  Literary  Club 
(p.  273).  Its  president,  Dr.  Johnson,  was  a  stubborn  Tory,  who 
held  that  'the  first  Whig  was  the  Devil'.  From  the  outset 
Johnson  averred  that  Burke's  political  principles  in  their  inmost 
reality  were  not  far  removed  from  his  own,  and  when  in  1765 
Burke  became  Lord  Rockingham's  Secretary,   and  was  given  a 


292  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

place  as  Member  of  Parliament  for  Wendover  by  a  Whig 
nobleman,  Lord  Verney,  Johnson  shook  his  head,  and  affirmed 
with  some  truth  that  Burke  was  false  to  his  own  principles. 
Burke  at  once  made  his  name  as  a  Parliamentary  orator,  and 
was  complimented  on  his  first  speech  there  by  the  Great 
Commoner  himself.  After  his  own  dismissal  from  office 
(1766),  Lord  Rockingham  advised  Burke  to  join  the  Chatham 
ministry.  He  preferred  however  to  share  the  fortunes  of  his 
own  immediate  political  friends,  and  never  held  office  till  the 
downfall  of  Lord  North's  ministry  in  1782. 

His  first  party  service  was  his  Observations  on  the  Present 
Political  Pamph-  State  of  the  Nation  (1769).  Grenville  had  publi- 
lets-  shed  a  pamphlet  accusing   his    successors    of 

ruining  the  country.  Burke's  Observations  ably  refuted  these 
charges  and  incidentally  proved  that  its  writer  excelled  Granville 
in  the  mastery  of  finance  and  wholly  eclipsed  him  as  a  political 
writer.  In  his  next  great  pamphlet,  Thoughts  on  the  Present 
Discontents  (1770),  he  discussed  the  various  problems  arising  out 
of  the  Wilkes  case,  attacking  the  growth  of  the  King's  power 
on  the  one  hand,  and  of  faction  on  the  other. 

In  1773  Burke  went  to  Paris  ;  saw  and  heard  all  he  could 
in  the  law  courts  and  in  the  Salons,   where    he 

Visit  to  France. 

met  the  brilliant  sceptic  Diderot.  He  also 
witnessed  with  profound  interest  the  splendours  of  the  Court  at 
Versailles  ;  the  old  King  at  Mass  with  a  bevy  of  Bishops,  and 
the  beautiful  young  dauphiness,  Marie  Antoinette,  'glittering  like 
the  morning  star.'  Burke  was  profoundly  impressed  with  the 
growing  strength  of  infidelity  and  atheism  in  France,  and 
foresaw  that  it  would  end  in  social  ruin. 

During  the  long  controversy  about  the  American  War,  Burke 
Speeches  on  produced     three    of    his    finest    works:     the 

America.  Speeches  on  American    Taxation    (1774),    on 

Conciliation  with  America  (1775),  and  the  Letter  to  the  Sherijjs 
of  Bristol  (1777).  In  these  he  inveighs  against  the  mad  English 
policy  which  goaded  the  Colonists  into  revolt  and  final  separa- 
tion. 


BURKE.  293 

Upon    the    dissolution    of    Parliament   in    October,    1774, 
..  „  ,     _  .  .  .        Burke  was  informed  that  the  electors  of  Bristol 

M.  P.  for  Bristol. 

wished  him  to  contest  that  important  con- 
stituency, without  cost  to  himself.  He  was  elected  ;  and  in 
returning  thanks  to  his  constituents  boldly  declared  that  a 
Member  of  Parliament  should  think  and  vote  in  accordance 
with  his  own  judgment  and  conscience.  For  six  years  Burke 
was  M.  P.  for  Bristol,  and  acted  up  to  this  creed.  In  defiance 
of  the  selfish  clamour  of  the  Bristol  merchants  he  voted  in 
1778  for  a  measure  of  free  trade  for  Ireland,  and  in  the  same 
year  he  supported  a  Bill  for  giving  some  shreds  of  justice  to 
the  oppressed  Roman  Catholics  in  England.  This  independent 
action  set  the  merchants  and  Protestants  of  Bristol  against  him, 
and  at  the  next  election  in  1780  they  threw  him  out;  thence- 
forward till  his  retirement  he  sat  for  the  Rockingham  borough 
of  Malton. 

In  1780  Burke  with  a  fearless  honesty  led  a  movement  in 
pianofEcono-  Parliament  for  abolishing  a  vast  network  of 
micai  Reform.  salaried  posts,  both  in  the  Government  and  in 
the  Royal  Household,  which  not  only  drained  the  Treasury, 
but  gave  to  the  Crown  endless  opportunities  of  corrupting 
Parliament  and  turning  it  into  a  mere  stronghold  of  vested 
private  interests.  Among  other  reforms  his  own  salary  of 
'Paymaster  of  the  Forces'  was  cut  down  to  ^4,000  a  year. 

Burke  held  this  post  in  Lord  Rockingham's  second  adminis- 
^  tration,    and    again    in    the    Fox    and    North 

In  office.  6 

coalition  ministry  of  1783,  but  it  did  not  give 
him  a  place  in  the  Cabinet.  At  times,  in  the  House,  he  showed 
great  want  of  temper  and  judgment,  which  may  have  been  one 
of  the  causes  of  his  persistent  and  otherwise  incomprehensible 
exclusion  from  high  ministerial  rank.  The  India  Bill  which 
led  to  the  fall  of  the  Coalition  was  originated  by  Burke,  though 
it  was  mainly  carried  by  the  eloquence  of  Fox.  Burke's  speech 
in  defence  of  the  India  Bill  is  one  of  his  ablest  efforts.  But 
the  Bill  itself  was,  as  Lord  Morley  says,  'a  masterpiece  of 
hardihood,  miscalculation,  and  mismanagement.' 


294  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

After  the  fall  of  the  Portland  Coalition  ministry  Burke  was 
never  again  in  office.  In  1785  he  made  his 
ttSK  great  speech  on  The  Nabob  of  Arcot's  Debts 
and  in  1786  brought  forward  in  Parliament  his 
motion  for  the  impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings.  In  178S 
the  memorable  trial  began  in  Westminster  Hall.  Fanny 
Burney  has  recorded  her  impressions  of  Burke's  opening 
speech.  She  of  course  took  the  Court  view  that  Hastings  was 
a  martyr  to  Whig  malevolence.  '  When  he  came  to  his  two 
narratives,  when  he  related  the  particulars  of  those  dreadful 
murders,  he  interested,  he  engaged,  he  at  last  overpowered 
me  :  I  felt  my  cause  lost.  My  eyes  dreaded  a  single  glance 
towards  a  man  so  accused  as  Mr.  Hastings  ;  I  wanted  to  sink 
on  the  floor,  that  they  might  be  saved  so  painful  a  sight.  I 
had  no  hope  he  could  clear  himself ;  not  another  wish  in  his 
favour  remained.    But  from  this  narration  Mr.  Burke  proceeded 

to  his  own  comments  and  declamation then  there   appeared 

more  of  study  than  of  truth,  more  of  invective  than  of  justice  ; 
and  in  short  so  little  of  proof  to  so  much  of  passion  that  I 
began  to  lift  up  my  head  and  found  myself  a  mere  spectator 
in  a  public  place,  with  my  opera-glass  in  my  hand.'  Six 
years  later  the  Lords  brought  in  a  verdict  of  acquittal. 
Hastings  had  been  high-handed — he  had  fought  Orientals 
with  their  own  weapons  of  treachery,  deceit  and  violence.  But 
he  had  done  all  solely  for  the  establishment  of  British  suprem- 
acy ;  and  personally  he  came  out  with  clean  hands.  He  was 
consequently  acquitted  ;  but  the  system  was  tacitly  condemned. 
It  is  owing  in  a  great  measure  to  Burke's  generous  enthusiasm 
and  to  the  unrequited  toil  of  the  eight  best  years  of  his  active 
life  that  English  rule  in  India  is  an  honest  attempt  at  a  righteous 
tutelage,  instead  of  a  mere  tyranny  of  money-grubbing  aliens. 
In  1790  Burke  published  his  Reflections  on  the  Revolution 
in  France.     In  less  than  a  year  it   reached    its 

The  Reflections 

and  later  pamph-      eleventh    edition.     The    position    he    took  up 

lets. 

in  this  work  completely  estranged  the  Whigs 
from  him.  He  became  the  champion  and  the  idol  of  all  the 
reactionaries  of  Europe.     In  his  Appeal  from  the   New    to   the 


BURKE. 


295 


Old  Whigs  (1791),  Thoughts  on  French  Affairs  (179O,  and 
Letters  on  the  Regicide  Peace  (1796),  he  urges  the  government 
not  only  to  fight  the  Revolution,  but  to  suppress  all  freedom  of 
writing  and  speech  at  home.  How  deeply  Burke's  mind  had 
been  alienated  from  its  natural  channel  is  best  seen  by  the 
fact  that,  though  he  had  always  denounced  the  Test  Act,  yet 
'  when  in  1 790  Fox  brought  forward  a  motion  for  the  repeal  of 
the  Test  and  Corporation  Acts,  Burke  bitterly  opposed  him, 
and  declared  the  Dissenters  to  be  disaffected  citizens  who 
were  unworthy  of  relief  ! 

At   the    close    of  the  Hastings  trial  in  1794  Burke  resigned 

his  seat  in  Parliament.  It  was  proposed  to 
posed°peaenrdagPer0'      give    him    a    peerage,    but,    with   the  death  of 

his  son,  Buike  had  no  heart  for  the  honour. 
With  the  King's  cordial  co-operation,  Pitt  arranged  for  a 
pension  both  for  Burke  and  for  his  wife  ;  but  he  did  not 
venture  to  grant  these  through  a  Parliamentary  vote.  This 
gave  occasion  to  much  hostile  party  criticism,  especially  from 
the  Duke  of  Bedford.  Burke's  reply  in  his  Letter  to  a  Noble 
Lord  (1795)  is  '  the  most  splendid  repartee  in  the  English 
language.' 

In    1795    Burke    published    his    Thoughts   and   Details  on 

Scarcity,  a  clear  and  well  reasoned  exposition 
Con?;  Death*    '"      °f  tne  principles  of  trade  in  corn,  in  regard  to 

which  he  was  far  in  advance  of  the  best 
opinion  of  his  time.  He  died  July  9th,  1797.  Fox  proposed 
that  he  should  be  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey  ;  but  Burke 
had  left  strict  injunctions  that  he  was  to  be  buried  privately  in 
the  little  church  at  Beaconsfield,  where  his  landed  estate  lay. 
The     foregoing     sketch     of     itself     shows    us   the    most 

salient  points  of  Burke's  personal  character, 
(1)  As  afman.'  both  m  'ts  weakness  and  in  its  strength,  so  far 

as  his  public  life  was  concerned.  That  weak- 
ness has  been  admirably  sketched  by  Miss  Burney  :  '  How  I 
wish  that  you  could  meet  this  wonderful  man  when  he  is  easy, 
happy,  and  with  people  he  cordially  likes.  But  politics,  even 
on  his  own  side,  must  always    be   excluded ;    his    irritability  is 


296  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

so  terrible  on  that  theme,  that  it  gives  immediately  to  his  face 
the  expression  of  a  man  who  is  going  to  defend  himself  from 
murderers.'  In  his  home  life  he  was  delightful,  and  he  could 
play  with  children  and  roll  about  with  them  on  the  carpet  with 
energetic  glee. 

As  a  speaker  in  Parliament  Burke  was  less  successful  than 
many  men  of  far  inferior  ability.  Indeed  his 
and  WHte£eaker  rising  to  speak  was,  latterly  at  least,  so 
commonly  the  signal  for  the  benches  to'  empty 
themselves,  that  he  was  nicknamed  '  the  dinner-bell.'  Yet  the 
people  who  thus  neglected  his  spoken  words  would  read  and 
study  them,  when  printed,  with  the  utmost  avidity.  His  failure 
to  gain  the  ear  of  the  House  was  due  partly  to  his  ungainly 
manner  and  harsh  voice;  more  perhaps  to  his  total  lack  of 
humour  and  of  real  pathos  ;  but  chiefly  to  the  fact  that  he 
appealed  mainly  to  reason  and  imagination.  He  was  too  pro- 
found for  his  audience.  'Burke,'  writes  M.  Arnold,  'is  so  great 
because,  almost  alone  in  England,  he  brings  thought  to  bear 
upon  politics;  he  saturates  politics  with  thought.'  The 
magnificence  of  Burke's  oratorical  style  is  due — (i)  To  the 
earnestness  and  strength  of  his  feeling  ;  the  style  is  the  man. 
(2)  To  the  extent  and  thoroughness  of  his  knowledge  ;  there 
is  nothing  narrow  in  his  treatment  of  a  subject.  (3)  To  his 
high  imaginative  power,  enabling  him  to  see  at  a  glance  all  the 
bearings  of  an  argument,  and  to  enter  into  the  feelings  of  all 
parties  in  a  question. 

Burke's  Reflection  on  the  Revolution  in  France  is  his  most 
characteristic  and  important  work.  The 
Revolution  was  a  touchstone  which  brought 
out  the  unsuspected  peculiarities  of  his  complex  mentality.  It 
has  been  maintained  by  many  writers— Moore  (in  his  Life  of 
Sheridan),  Cobden,  and  Buckle — that  these  Refections  flatly 
contradict  all  the  doctrines  taught  or  implied  in  his  speeches 
on  the  claims  of  the  American  Colonists.  The  explanation 
given  is  that  towards  the  end  of  his  life  Burke's  brain  became 
unhinged ;  a  view  which  Buckle  has  eloquently  elaborated. 
But  the  contrast  between  Burke's  earlier  and    later   attitude    is 


BURKE. 


297 


due  to  the  difference  between  the  external  situations  ;  not  to 
any  real  change  in  the  man  himself.  The  germ  of  the  Reflec- 
tions of  1790  can  be  clearly  traced  in  the  Vindication  of  1756. 
Burke's  mind  was  essentially  conservative.  Five  leading 
principles  dominated  his  whole  career:  (1)  a  mystic  venera- 
tion for  all  established  political  institutions,  amounting  almost 
to  a  worship  of  prescription  ;  (2)  an  impatient  contempt  for  all 
doctrinaire  speculations;  (3)  a  conviction  that  political  changes 
can  safely  come  about  only  as  a  slow  growth  from  the  past  to 
the  future  ;  (4)  a  still  deeper  conviction  that  religion  is  essential 
to  social  stability  ;  and  growing  out  of  this,  (5)  a  profound 
veneration  for  all  the  paraphernalia  of  long-established  national 
religions.  He  detested  the  French  revolutionaries  just  as  he 
detested  Warren  Hastings  as  the  reckless  destroyer  of  a  vener- 
able religion  and  an  immemorial  civilisation.  In  the  case  of 
the  American  Colonists  the  situation  was  exactly  reversed. 
The  King  and  the  Tories  were  the  innovators;  the  Colonists 
had  on  their  side  the  venerable  prescription  which  has  always 
conjoined  taxation  and  representation  ;  while  the  Court  party 
could  allege  nothing  better  than  a  formal  assertion  of  the 
sovereignty  of  the  Crown  in  the  Colonies.  Finally,  the  Colonists 
were  grave,  God-fearing  men,  whose  whole  political  life  had 
been  bound  up  with  their  religion  from  the  first  landing  of  the 
Pilgrim  Fathers  ;  whereas  the  French  Revolution  was  a  reckless 
defiance  of  every  one  of  the  five  principles  which  to  Burke 
were  sacred  and  vital.  Furthermore  the  class-blindness  which 
led  him  to  accept  the  degraded  servitude  of  the  artisan  classes 
as  a  postulate  for  his  argument  in  the  Vindication  of  1756, 
kept  him  from  recognizing  that  the  real  source  of  the  French 
Revolution  was  not  the  doctrinaire  speculations  of  Rousseau 
and  Robespierre,  but  the  unendurable  agony  of  a  down-trodden 
people.  He  wept  over  the  sufferings  of  Marie  Antoinette ; 
he  had  never  even  a  thought  for  the  millions  of  French 
peasants  trampled  down  in  hopeless  semi-starvation  and  soul- 
benumbing  toil.  For  them  Burke  has  but  one  specific — 'they 
must  be  taught  their  consolation  in  the  final  proportions  of 
eternal  justice.' 


298  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

QUOTATIONS 

Power  gradually  extirpates  from  the  mind  every  humane  and 
gentle  virtue.      Vindication  of  Natural  Society,  Preface. 

The  writers  against  religion,  whilst  they  oppose  every  system, 
are  wisely  careful  never  to  set  up  any  of  their  own.     lb. 

There  is  however  a  limit  at  which  forbearance  ceases  to  be  a 
virtue.     On  The  Present  State  of  the  Nation. 

To  complain  of  the  age  we  live  in,  to  murmur  at  the  present 
possessors  of  power,  to  lament  the  past,  to  conceive  extravagant 
hopes  of  the  future,  are  the  common  dispositions  of  the  greatest 
part  of  mankind.     Present  Discontents. 

When  bad  men  combine,  the  good  must  associate.     lb. 

Of  this  stamp  is  the  cant  of  'Not  men  but  measures'  ;  a  sort  of 
charm  by  which  many  people  get  loose  from  every  honourable 
engagement.     lb. 

The  religion  most  prevalent  in  our  northern  colonies  is  a  refine- 
ment on  the  principle  of  resistance  ;  it  is  the  dissidence  of  Dissent, 
and  the  Protestantism  of  the  Protestant  religion.  Conciliation 
with  America. 

Magnanimity  in  politics  is  not  seldom  the  truest  wisdom  ;  and 
a  great  empire  and  little  minds  go  ill  together.     lb. 

I  do  not  know  the  method  of  drawing  up  an  indictment  against 
a  whole  people.     lb. 

Liberty  too  must  be  limited  in  order  to  be  possessed.  Letter  to 
the  Sheriffs  of  Bristol. 

Bad  laws  are  the  worst  sort  of  tyranny.     Speech  of  Bristol,  1780. 

What  shadows  we  are,  and  what  shadows  we  pursue.       lb. 

People  will  not  look  forward  to  posterity,  who  never  look 
backward  to  their  ancestors.     Reflections  on  the  Revolution. 

The  age  of  chivalry  is  gone.  That  of  sophisters,  economists, 
and  calculators  has  succeeded.. ..The  unbought  grace  of  life,  the 
cheap  defence  of  nations,  the  nurse  of  manly  sentiment  and  heroic 
enterprise,  is  gone.  It  is  gone,  that  sensibility  of  principle,  that 
chastity  of  honour,  which  felt  a  stain  like  a  wound.     lb. 

Kings  will  be  tyrants  from  policy,  when  subjects  are  rebels  from 
principle.     lb. 

Because  half  a  dozen  grasshoppers  under  a  fern  make  the  field 
ring  with  their  importunate  chink,  while  thousands  of  great  cattle, 
reposed  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  British  Oak,  chew  the  cud  and 
are   silent,   pray  do  not  imagine  that  those  who  make  the  noise  are 


BURKE.  299 

the  only  inhabitants  of  the  field  ;  that,  of  course,  they  are  many  in 
number  ;  or  that,  after  all,  they  are  other  than  the  little,  shrivelled 
meagre,  hopping,  though  loud  and  troublesome,  insects  of  the 
hour.     Lb. 

The  men  of  England— the  men,  I  mean,  of  light  and  leading  in 
England.     Lb. 

Nobility  is  a  graceful  ornament  to  the  civil  order.  It  is  the 
Corinthian  capital  of  polished  society.     lb. 

He  that  wrestles  with  us  strengthens  our  nerves  and  sharpens 
our  skill.     Our  antagonist  is  our  helper.     lb. 

Our  patience  will  achieve  more  than  our  force.     lb. 

To  innovate  is  not  to  reform.     Letter  to  a  Noble  Lord. 

If  we  command  our  wealth  we  shall  be  rich  and  free  ;  if  our 
wealth  commands  us,  we  are  poor  indeed.  Letters  on  the  Rc°icide 
Peace. 

Never,  no  never,  did  Nature  say  one  thing  and  Wisdom  say 
another.     //;. 

Early  and  provident  fear  is  the  mother  of  safety.  Speech  on  the 
Petition  of  the  Unitarians. 

Dangers  by  being  despised  grow  great.     lb. 

The  individual  is  foolish  ;  the  multitude,  for  the  moment  is  fool- 
ish, when  they  act  without  deliberation  ;  but  the  species  is  wise, 
and,  when  time  is  given  to  it,  as  a  species  it  always  acts  right. 
Speech  on  Reform  of  Representation. 

There  is  but  one  law  for  all,  namely  that  law  which  governs 
all  law,  the  law  of  our  Creator,  the  law  of  humanity,  justice,  equity 
— the  law  of  nature  and  of  nations.  Impeachment  of  Warren 
Hastings. 

No,  not  a  good  imitation  of  Johnson.  It  has  all  his  pomp  with- 
out his  force  ;  it  has  all  the  nodosities  of  the  oak  without  its 
strength  ;  it  has  all  the  contortions  of  the  sibyl  without  the 
inspiration.     Remarks  on  Croft's  ''Life  of  Dr.   Young.' 


COWPER  (1731—1800) 

William  Cowper,  the  Poet  Laureate  of  Evangelicalism,  was 
Birth  and  Par-  born  at  Great  Berkhampstead,  in  Hertford- 
shire, November  26th,  173 1 .  His  father  was 
Rector  of  the  parish  and  a  nephew  of  Lord  Chancellor 
Cowper  :.  his  mother  was  a  Donne,  of  the  same  family  as  the 
poet  (p.  27).  She  died  when  Cowper  was  six  years  old,  but  her 
gentle  care  made  an  ineffaceable  impression  on  his  nature ; 
and  his  grief  for  her  at  the  time,  and  reverent  life-long  love  are 
beautifully  recorded  in  his  well-known  lines  On  the  Receipt  of 
my  Mother's  Picture  (1798). 

Cowper  was  sent  to  a  boarding-school;  and  in  1 741  to 
_.  Westminster    School,    where    Vincent    Bourne 

Education. 

was  one  of  the  undermasters.  Among  his 
schoolmates  were  Warren  Hastings,  Robert  Lloyd,  Colman, 
and  Churchill.  At  Westminster  he  figured  as  a  good  cricketer  : 
and  under  Bourne's  care  acquired  the  art  of  writing  good 
Latin  verse,  as  well  as  a  good  general  knowledge  of  the 
standard  Greek  and  Latin  authors.  His  experiences  of  school 
life  led  him  afterwards  to  write  his  somewhat  one-sided  con- 
demnation of  a    Public    School    education    in    his    Tirocinium 

(•734). 

Leaving    Westminster   in    1749    he   became    a  Member  of 
„    _,,  the    Middle   Temple,    and    was   articled  to  an 

Studies  Law.  '      ' 

attorney  in  London,  in  whose  office  Thurlow, 
the  future  Lord  Chancellor,  was  his  fellow-clerk.  In  1752  he 
took  Chambers  in  the  Temple,  and  in  1754  was  called  to 
the  Bar. 

While   at   this  solicitor's  office  he  spent  much  of  his  time  at 

First  Derange-  the    house    of   his  uncle,  Ashley  Cowper,  and 

ment-  fell    in    love    with     one     of     his     daughters, 

Theodora   Jane    (the    'Delia'    of     Cowper's     poems     and    the 

'Anonymous'    of    his   Letters)  ;    but   her    father     forbade     the 

engagement.     Another,    daughter,     Harriet    (afterwards    Lady 


COWPER.  301 

Hesketh)  became  in  the  later  years  of  Cowper's  life,  one  of  his 
best  friends.  This  disappointment,  and  the  loneliness  of  life 
in  Temple  Chambers  brought  on  his  first  fit  of  mental  derange- 
ment in  1752.  This  however  soon  passed  away  with  change 
of  air  and  scene. 

In  1763,  through  the  good  offices  of  his  kinsman,  Major 
Second  Derange-  Cowper,  he  received  a  nomination  to  the 
Clerkship  of  the  Journals  of  the  House  of 
Lords.  There  was  some  possibility  of  his  having  to  appear 
before  the  bar  of  the  House  for  a  personal  inspection  and 
examination.  The  anticipation  of  this  filled  him  with  morbid 
forebodings  which  led  to  several  attempts  at  suicide  and  at  last 
to  complete  insanity,  which  took  the  form  of  religious  despair. 
He  was  sent  to  Dr.  Cotton's  private  asylum  at  St.  Albans, 
where  after  eighteen  months  he  recovered,  and  in  1765  his 
relatives  arranged  for  him  to  live  in  Huntingdon. 

Here    he    met    the    Unwin    family,  and  lived  with  them  for 

The  Unwins  tw0   )'ears-     Then>    on  Mr.  Unwin's  death,  he 

removed  with  the  widow  (the  'Mary'  of  his 
Letters  and  poems)  to  'Orchard  Side,'  a  house  close  to  the 
Olney  Vicarage,  on  the  river  Ouse  in  Buckinghamshire.  The 
Rev.  John  Newton,  a  famous  Evangelical  clergyman,  was 
curate  there.  Cowper  was  much  influenced  by  his  ministry, 
and  joined  him  in  writing  the  Olney  Hymns  (1779). 

In  1773,  chiefly  perhaps  through  the  injudicious  mode  of 
Third  Derange-  '^e  enforced  on  him  and  Mrs.  Unwin  by 
ment'  Newton's    masterful    piety,    Cowper  was  again 

seized  with  a  fit  of  insanity,  in  which  he  again  attempted 
suicide.  Dr.  Cotton  was  called  in,  and  succeeded  in  effecting  a 
cure.  To  complete  his  recovery  he  took  to  gardening,  carpen- 
tering, and  drawing ;  he  also  amused  himself  with  keeping 
three  tame  hares,  which  form  the  subject  of  some  of  his  most 
characteristic  poems,  and  appear  in  his  Letters, 

Mrs.  Unwin,  however,  now  very  wisely  induced  him  to 
The  Moral  Sati-  cultivate  the  poetic  faculty,  which  had  lain 
res'  dormant  since  the  'Delia'  poems.     She  doubt- 


302  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

less  suggested  this  new  occupation  to  him  as  a  useful  religious 
and  moral  mission  ;  so  that  naturally  we  find  in  his  first  poems, 
Table  Talk,  with  the  other  moral  satires  (1782),  that  Cowper 
figures  chiefly  as  a  Christian  moralist,  writing  in  rather  tame 
verse  of  the  Pope  style. 

In    1 781    Cowper  formed  the  acquaintance  of  Lady  Austen, 
.  the    widow    of   a    Baronet.     Under  her  genial 

Lady  Austen.  ° 

influence  (she  being  in  the  best  sense  a  woman 
of  the  world)  the  poet's  shyness  thawed,  and  so  warm  a  friend- 
ship sprang  up  between  them  that  Lady  Austen  came  to  live 
at  Olney.  That  a  lady  who  had  been  accustomed  to  fashion- 
able society  should  have  banished  herself  to  such  an  out-of-the- 
world  place  with  no  other  companions  than  these  two  Puritans, 
speaks  volumes  for  the  deep  attractiveness  of  Cowper's  nature. 
To  him  this  friendship  was  a  veritable  godsend.  They  supple- 
mented each  other's  defects,  and  stimulated  each  other's  most 
characteristic  talents.  She  told  him  the  story  of  John  Gilpin, 
which  kept  him  awake  at  night  with  laughter,  and  next  morning 
he  wrote  his  immortal  ballad.  It  was  published  at  first 
anonymously  in  The  Public  Advertiser  (Nov.  14,  1782),  and 
became  famous  through  being  recited  on  the  stage  by  John 
Henderson,  a  popular  comedian  of  the  day.  Ladv  Austen 
also  inspired  the  fine  lyric,  On  the  Loss  of  the  Royal  George 
(1803).  Best  of  all  she  urged  him  to  try  a  long  poem  in  blank 
verse,  and  playfully  suggested  as  a  subject  the  sofa  on  which 
she  was  then  reclining.  The  idea  took  hold  of  Cowper's  imagi- 
nation, and  The  Sofa  grew  into  the  six  books  of  The  Task, 
so  called  as  being  a  task  imposed  upon  him  by  his  lady  friend. 
This  poem,  with  I irocinium  and  a  poetical  epistle  to  his 
school- fellow  and  financial  adviser,  Joseph  Hill,  was  published 
July  1 78-. 

Unfortunately  this  friendship  came  to  an    abrupt    end,    and 
Lady    Austen    left    Olney    in  May  1784.      But 
ler  friends  filled  up  the  blank.     He  became 
intimate  with  the  Throckmortons  of  Weston  Hall  in  the    neigh- 
bourhood, cousin,     Lady    Hesketh,  came  to  visit  him  in 
June  1786,  and  by  her  care    and   liberality    Cowper   and    Mrs. 


COWPER.  303 

Unwin  were  removed  from  their  house  at  Olney  to  a  much 
more  healthy  one  at  Weston,  belonging  to  the  Throckmortons. 
She  helped  to  brighten  the  life  of  both  ;  and  Cowper  showed 
how  much  his  health  and  sanity  had  been  restored  by  his  firm- 
ness in  declining  to  be  dictated  to  by  Newton,  who  did  his  best 
bv  letter  to  rescue  them  from  the  worldliness  into  which  he 
believed  they  were  falling. 

During  this  comparatively  happy  period    Cowper    produced 

some    of  his  best  work,  the  short  poems  which 

Short  poems.         ^  immortal_such  as  Alexander  Selkirk,  The 

Foplar  Field,  the  Lines  on  a  Young  Ladv  and  those  To  Mary. 
These  poems  have  all  the  charm  of  absolute  spontaneity.  They 
nappily  express  the  feeling  of  the  moment.  One  of  the  best 
among  his  didactic  fables  is  perhaps  The  Needless  Alarm.  The 
Anti-Slavery  philanthropists  induced  him  to  write  some  ballads 
in  support  of  their  cause — a  task  which  he  rather  disliked,  and 
in  which  he  was  not  very  successful.  But  there  is  a  vein  of 
humorous  satire  in  Pitv  for  Poor  Africans  which  has  immor- 
talised itself  in  the  closing  line, 

'He  shared  in  the  plunder,  but  pitied  the  man.' 

It  is  perhaps  to  be  regretted  that  Cowper  shculd  have  been 
induced  to  spend  his  time  in  the  almost  im- 
TraHSdme°rn  °f  possible  task  of  translating  Homer.  He  be- 
gan his  translation  soon  after  1784,  and  finish- 
ed it  in  1790.  It  was  published  in  July  179 1.  It  is  far  more 
faithful  to  the  original  than  Pope's  ;  but  otherwise  possesses  no 
great  merit. 

In  1787  occurred    his    fourth    attack    of    suicidal    insanity; 

and   in    1 791    his    anxieties  were  increased  by 

Fourth  derange-      Mrs.  Unwin's  failing  health.     The    poet    Hav- 

ment  ;  death.  °  r  ■> 

ley,  who  had  introduced  himself  to  Cowper  in 
connexion  with  an  edition  of  Milton's  Poems,  now  came  for- 
ward with  friendly  help.  In  August  1792  he  induced  Cowper 
and  Mrs.  Unwin  to  pay  him  a  visit  at  Eartham  near  Chichester  ; 
but  the  health  of  neither  received  any  benefit.  In  January  1794 
he  and  Mrs.   Unwin,  the    latter   now   helpless   through  partial 


304  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

paralysis,  were  removed  to  Mundesley  on  the  Norfolk  Coast. 
In  October  1796  they  were  taken  to  East  Dereham  in  Norfolk, 
where  Mrs.  Unwin  died.  Cowper  survived  her  for  three  years 
and  a  half,  but  was  little  better  than  a  wreck  of  his  former  self. 
Occasionally  he  roused  himself  to  literary  effort,  usually  in  the 
shape  of  Latin  verses  or  translations  ;  and  once  only  (March 
20,  1799)  wrote  an  English  poem,  the  despairing  wail  of  his 
Castaway.  He  died  peacefully  April  25,  1800,  and  was  buried 
in  Dereham  Church. 

Cowper  was   naturally   amiable    and   cheerful,    and    had    a 

wonderful  faculty    for   attracting   the   devoted 

Character;  (i)         jove    of    those   who  came  in  contact  with  him. 

As  a  man. 

Shy  and  retiring  as  he  was,  and  afflicted  with 
a  constitutional  tendency  to  melancholy,  he  was  never  morose, 
and  was  remarkable  for  his  sympathy,  not  only  for  suffering 
humanity  but  for  the  unprotected  dumb  creation.  An  unusual 
proportion  of  his  shorter  poems  are  inspired  by  his  love  for 
birds  and  animals.  He  had  too  a  genuine  love  of  Nature, 
though  the  Nature  he  loved  was  of  the  prim  domesticated  kind, 
rather  than  the  Nature  of  the  rugged  mountain  or  the  primeval 
forest. 

As  S.  Brooke  has  pointed  out,  Cowper  'struck  the  first  note 
of  the  passionate  poetry  which  was  afterwards 
carried  so  far  in  the  Prelude  of  Wordsworth, 
the  Alas/or  of  Shelley,  the  Childe  Harold  of  Byron,  but  he 
struck  it  in  connexion  with  religion.'  With  him,  T.  H.  Ward 
tell  us, '  the  joy  in  natural  objects  begins  to  be  linked  with  a 
sense  of  the  brotherhood  of  mankind ;  to  the  religious  mind 
this  sense  of  brotherhood  and  this  sense  of  natural  beauty 
being  sharpened  and  strengthened  by  the  belief  in  the  near 
presence  of  the  Creator  and  Father  of  all.  Cowper  is  the 
artist  who  has  expressed  in  a  new  and  permanent  form  this 
complex  sentiment.  He  is  the  poet  of  the  return  to  Nature, 
and  he  is  the  poet  of  the  simple  human  affections.'  As  Bagehot 
remarks,  'What  Pope  is  to  our  fashionable  and  town  life,  Cowper 
is  to  our  domestic  and  rural  life.'  Cowper  may  usefully  be  con- 
trasted with  Scott  as  regard  his  subject  matter  and  style.     Both 


COWPER.  305 

poets  have  written  in  an  entirely  novel  and  original  manner,  but 
the   originality  of   each  takes    a  different  direction.     Cowper's 
poems     contain     truthful    and     picturesque    descriptions     of 
scenes  of  existing  everyday    life  ;   Scott's   are   filled    with   the 
romantic  and  imaginative  actions  of  a  chivalrous  past.    Cowper 
throws  a  halo  of  interest  over  the  most  unpromising  subjects — 
the  tea-table,    the  newspaper,    the  postman  ;    Scott   delights   in 
portraying   the    legends    and  exploits    of  mediaeval  times — the 
Border   foray,  the  battle,  the    gathering  of  the  clans.     Cowper 
is  fond  of   introducing    satirical    sketches   and  moral  declama- 
tion ;  Scott  describes  striking  situations   and  picturesque  episo- 
des without  any  attempt  at  a    moral  analysis    of   the  characters 
or  the    events    he  portrays.     Cowper    is    delicately  descriptive, 
Scott  gorgeously  dramatic.     The  different  styles  of  these  two 
poets  will  give  us   a  key  to  the    different  influence  they  exerted 
in  turning   our    national    taste    from    the    artificial  and    classi- 
cal   type    of    Pope    in    the    direction    of    the   real    sympathies 
of    general    humanity.     Cowper    led    men    to    take  an  interest 
in    the    poetry  of   domestic   life    and    its    affections,    which   to 
the    'classical'    poets    was     untrodden     ground  -,     while    Scott 
lured      his     readers     from     the     cold,     clear-cut,     statuesque 
beauty  of  their  poems  to  the  warm  and  glowing  life  of  his  own. 
The   moral    reflections    of    Cowper   on    the  one  hand,  and  the 
fresh    and     vivid   delineations     of    Scott   on   the   other,    both 
performed    their  share    in  the    reformation  of   English  poetical 
literature.  As  a  letter-writer,   Cowper  deserves  and  has  obtained 
the  highest   praise  from  all    competent  critics.     Walpole's  and 
Gray's  and  above  all   Charles  Lamb's    letters  are  inimitable  of 
their  kind  :    but    Cowper's   combine    so    many  of  the  qualities 
that  go  to  produce  excellence  in  letter-writing  that  they  remain, 
if  not  unequalled,  at  least  unsurpassed  in  English  literature. 
The  Task  is  on  the  whole  the  most  important  and  character- 
istic of  Cowper's    poems  ;  though  perhaps,  as 
in  the  case  of   Wordsworth,  his  special  genius 
is  most   conspicuous    in  some  of   his  shorter  poem^j.     In  The 
Task  Cowper  has  indeed  no  inspiring  philosophy  with  which  to 
elevate    life  ;    but   he   certainly     succeeded    in  making  poetry 
20 


306  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

religious  after  his  own  somewhat  narrow  pattern.  As  Goldwin 
Smith  remarks,  'As  Paradise  Lost  is  to  militant  Puritanism,  so  is 
The  Task  to  the  religious  movement  of  its  author's  time.  It 
was  about  the  only  poetry  that  a  strict  Methodist  or  Evangelical 
could  read.  A  regular  plan  assuredly  The  Task  has  not.  It 
rambles  through  a  vast  variety  of  subjects  with  as  little  of 
method  as  its  author  used  in  taking  his  morning  walks.  But 
Cowper  is  right  as  to  the  existence  of  a  pervading  tendency 
(in  the  poem).  The  praise  of  retirement  and  of  a  country  life 
is  its  perpetual  refrain,  if  not  its  definite  theme-  From  this 
idea  immediately  flow  the  best  and  most  popular  passages  ; 
those  which  have  found  their  way  into  the  heart  of  the  nation, 
and  intensified  the  taste  for  rural  and  domestic  happiness.'  The 
poem  is  comprised  in  six  books  :  (i)  The  Sofa,  a  description 
of  rural  sights  and  sounds,  with  reflections  on  the  drawbacks 
of  city  life  ;  (2)  The  Timepiece,  a  series  of  reflections  on  the 
corruptions  of  the  time,  due  to  ineffective  preaching  and  lax 
university  discipline  :  (3)  The  Garden,  in  which  the  poet 
quits  his  previous  moralisings  to  contrast  the  calm  of  country 
life  and  domestic  happiness  with  the  fevered  pleasures  of  the 
town ;  (4)  The  Winter  Evening,  in  which  from  the  snug  seclu- 
sion of  his  own  fireside  and  tea-table  he  reviews  the  peculiar 
vices  of  village  life  :  the  unnecessary  number  of  public  houses, 
inviting  wholesale  drunkenness,  and  the  City-bred  affectations  of 
the  modern  farmer's  daughter  ;  all  this  being  caused  chiefly  by 
the  fact  that  the  rich  have  left  the  country  neglected  and  spend 
all  their  time  in  town;  (5)  The  Winter  Morning  Walk,  in 
which  he  reflects  on  the  origin  of  wars,  of  tyranny,  and  on 
religion  as  the  sole  source  of  true  freedom  ;  (6)  The  Winter 
Walk  at  Noon,  a  discourse  on  the  immanence  of  God  in 
Nature ;  on  the  senselessness  of  chess  and  billiards  :  on  the 
cruelty  of  fieldsports,  and  a  concluding  encomium  on  the  life  of 
retirement  and  meditation. 


COWPER.  307 

QUOTATIONS. 

God  made  the  country  and  man  made  the  town.     Task,  I,  181. 

0  for  a  lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness, 

Some  boundless  contiguity  of  shade  !  lb.  II,  1-2 

Mountains  interposed 
Make  enemies  of  nations  who  had  else, 
Like  kindred  drops,  been  mingled  into  one.     lb  II,  17-9. 
Slaves  cannot  breathe  in  England  :  if  their  lungs 
Receive  our  air,  that  moment  they  are  free  ; 
They  touch  our  country  and  their  shackles  fall.     lb.  II,  40-2. 
England,  with  all  thy  faults  I  love  thee  still.     lb.  II,  206-7. 

Praise  enough 
To  All  the  ambition  of  a  private  man, 
That  Chatham's  language  was  his  mother-tongue.  lb.  II,  235-7 

The  toil 
Of  dropping  buckets  into  empty  wells, 
And  growing  old  in  drawing  nothing  up.  lb.  Ill,  188-190. 

The  cups 
That  cheer  but  not  inebriate.     lb.  IV,  39-40. 
But  war's  a  game  which,  were  their  subjects  wise, 
Kings  would  not  play  at.  lb.  V,  187-8. 
He  is  the  freeman  whom  the  truth  makes  free, 
And  all  are  slaves  beside,     lb.  V,  733"4- 

1  would  not  enter  on  my  list  of  friends 

(Though  graced  with  polished  manners  and  fine  sense, 

Yet  wanting  sensibility)  the  man 

Who  needlessly  sets  foot  upon  a  worm.     lb.  VI,  560-3. 

Absence  of  occupation  is  not  rest, 

A  mind  quite  vacant  is  a  mind  distress'd.     Retirement,  (323-4. 

0  why  are  farmers  made  so  coarse, 
Or  clergy  made  so  fine  ? 

A  kick  that  scarce  would  move  a  horse 

May  kill  a  sound  divine.   Tithing  Time  in  Essex,  St.  16. 

The  parson  knows  enough  who  knows  a  Duke.  Tirocinium,  403 

And  Satan  trembles  when  he  sees 

The  weakest  saint  upon  his  knees.    Olney  Hymns,  XXIX,  11-12 

1  am  monarch  of  all  I  survey, 

My  right  there  is  none  to  dispute.  Alexander  Selkirk,  1-2 
But  the  sound  of  the  church-going  bell 


308  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE, 

These  valleys  and  hills  never  heard.     lb  29-30. 
The  path  of  sorrow,  and  that  path  alone, 
Leads  to  the  land  where  sorrow  is  unknown. 

To  an  Afflicted  Protestant  Lady. 
The  man  that  hails  you  Tom  or  Jack, 
And  proves  by  thumps  upon  your  back 

His  sense  of  your  great  merit, 
Is  such  a  friend  as  one  had  need 
Be  very  much  his  friend  indeed, 

To  pardon  or  to  bear  it.     On  Friendship,  St.  29. 
The  kindest  and  the  happiest  pair 
Will  find  occasion  to  forbear  ; 
And  something  every  day  they  live 
To  pity,  and  perhaps  forgive. 

Mutual  Forbearance  in  the  Married  State,  37-40 


WORDSWORTH  (1770—1850) 

William  Wordsworth  was  born  April  7th,  1770,  at  Cocker- 
mouth,  Cumberland,  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
Birthhood.  Chi'd"  bourhood  of  that  romantic  lake  scenery  which 
has  for  evermore  been  associated  with,  and 
consecrated  by,  his  genius.  On  both  his  father's  and  mother's 
side  he  came  of  good  old  north-country  stock.  As  a  child  he 
was  stubborn,  moody,  and  of  a  violent  temper.  From  his 
earliest  years  he  had  lived  in  the  wild  freedom  of  Nature, 
plunging  in  the  mill-race  and  then  basking  in  the  summer 
sun ;  or  scouring  the  fields  and  woods  with  his  favourite 
playmate,  his  only  sister  Dorothy.  She  even  then  was  un- 
consciously his  teacher,  and  helped  to  mould  his  most  charac- 
teristic tendencies. 

At  eight  years  old  he  was   sent   to    school    at    Hawkshead, 

_  .     .  .  on  Esthwaite  Lake,  a  few  miles  west  of  Winder- 

School-days.  ' 

mere.  He  was  exceptionally  favoured  in  the 
wise  freedom  allowed  to  the  scholars  :  they  were  boarded  out 
with  cottage  dames,  nurtured  in  homely,  healthy  simplicity, 
and  while  well  taught  in  school  hours,  they  had  abundance 
of  time  for  out-door  sports  and  for  general  reading.  Fielding's 
novels,  Don  Quixote,  and  Gulliver's  Travels,  were  his  favourite 
books.  But  his  best  teacher  was  Nature.  In  lonely  midnight 
wanderings  over  the  frost-bound  heights  of  Esthwaite  in  search 
of  snared  woodcocks,  once  when  he  had  unfairly  taken  a 
school-fellow's  birds,  'low  breathings'  from  the  'solitary  hills' 
came  after  him,  and  'steps  almost  as  silent  as  the  turf  they 
trod'  taught  him  the  lesson,  Jhou  shalt  not  steal.  Or  on  a 
summer  evening,  as  he  stealthily  rows  out  on  Esthwaite  Water 
in  a  purloined  boat,  his  conscience  is  scared  by  the  sudden 
apparition,  beyond  the  bounding  hills,  of  a  black  crag  rising 
up  as  if  threatening  vengeance.  He  thus  foreshadowed  the 
dramatic  experiences  of  his  own  Peter   Bell.     The   Prelude   is 


310  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

a  faithful    and    detailed    autobiography  of    the    poet's  spiritual 
growth. 

Upon  his  father's  death  in  1783    (he    had    lost  his    mother 
..  .  five  vears  previously)    two    uncles    shared    the 

University  career.  J  r  - 

charge  of  the  children,  five  in  all.  In  1787 
they  sent  him  to  St.  John's  College.  Cambridge.  Here  he 
troubled  himself  but  little  with  the  University  curriculum  ;  his 
education  was  carried  on  by  self-chosen  reading,  by  the  study 
of  Italian,  Spanish,  and  French,  and  of  literature  and  history, 
by  the  free  social  life  of  University  men,  and  by  his  profound 
consciousness  of  the  venerable  associations  of  the  place,  the 
majestic  mind  of  Newton,  and  Milton's  immortal  verse. 

His  summer  vacations  were  a  valuable    part    of    his    inner 

education.  The  first  found  him  again  among 
L°pletfcC  can"5 ;        his  boyish  haunts  at  Esthwaite  Lake— a  centre 

of  admiring  interest  to  his  former  school-fel- 
lows and  friends ;  above  all  to  the  kindly  dame  who  had  been 
as  a  mother  to  him  in  his  school-boy  days.  He  mixed  freely 
in  the  rustic  society  of  his  Cumberland  friends,  and  took  a 
kindly  pleasure  in  their  dancing  parties  and  innocent  flirtations. 
One  night  returning  to  his  lodging  in  the  early  summer  dawn 
after  one  of  these  prolonged  festivities,  he  was  confronted  with 
the  calm  splendour  of  sunrise,  and  felt  suddenly  laid  upon 
him  the  consecrating  hand  of  Nature.  Thenceforth  he  knew 
himself  to  be  a  'dedicated  spirit,'  her  chosen  prophet  and 
priest. 

His  second  vacation  was  spent  in  a  tour    among    'romantic 

Dovedale's  spiry  rocks,'  through  the  Yorkshire 

dl°e"  and"  France.         daleS>    and  b>'  the  bank   °f  the  river  Emont,   tO 

be  celebrated  later  in  his  Song  at  the  Feast 
of  Brougham  Castle.  He  was  accompanied  by  his  sister 
Dorothy,  and  her  friend,  a  companion  of  their  childish  days, 
Mary  Hutchinson,  who  afterwards  became  his  wife.  The 
third  vacation  he  spent  in  a  tour  through  France  and  Switzer- 
land with  a  college  friend  who  was  all  aglow  with  the  new-born 
hopes  of  the  Revolution,  hopes  which  kindled  Wordsworth's 
whole-hearted    enthusiasm.     This    tour  bore  poetic  fruit  in  the 


WORDSWORTH.  311 

Descriptive  Sketches,  which  with  the  Evening  Walk  were 
published  in  1792,  constituting  Wordsworth's  first  appearance 
as  an  author. 

He  took  his  B.  A.  degree  at  Cambridge  in    January     1791, 
and    then    settled    in  London,  though  with  no 

In  London.  ° 

definite  plans  for  his  future  career.  The 
Reverie  of  Poor  Susan  (1797)  vividly  illustrates  his  own  habitual 
feelings  while  thus  living,  a  stranger  in  that  wilderness  of 
sombre  streets  and  hurrying  pre-occupied  crowds.  The  chance 
song  of  a  caged  thrush  heard  at  a  street  corner  would  suddenly 
transport  him,  as  it  does  her,  to  the  scenes  of  childhood  ; 
Lothbury  and  Cheapside  vanish  in  a  fairy  vision  of  mountain 
mist  and  woodland  waters. 

In    November    1791     Wordsworth    paid  a  second    visit   to 

France.  At  Orleans  he  formed  an  intimate 
Se°  France.1 1°  friendship  with  the  republican  general  Beaupuis. 

So  filled  was  he  with  revolutionary  enthusiasm 
that  he  seriously  contemplated  coming  forward  as  a  leader  of 
the  Girondist  party.  But  his  friends  at  home  saved  him  by 
stepping  his  allowances,  and  he  perforce  returned  to  England. 
The  execution  of  Louis  XVI,  and  the  subsequent  declaration 
of  war  against  England  by  the  French  Republic  in  1793  shattered 
Wordsworth's  belief  in  the  new-born  world  of  Liberty, 
Equality,  and  Fraternity  (See  p.  301).  A  period  of  gloom  follow- 
ed in  which  for  a  time  he  lost  faith  in  Nature,  in  Art,  and  in  his 
own  mission, —  almost  indeed  lost  belief  in  God.  His  poem 
entitled  Guilt  and  Sorrow  (1791-4)  reflects  something  of  the 
darkness  that  now  enwrapped  him.  He  had  no  settled  home 
but  lived  chiefly  in  London,  with  occasional  excursions  into 
the  country. 

About  this  time    (1795)    a  young   friend,    Raisley    Calvert, 
Legacy  The  whom    Wordsworth  had    nursed  in  an  illness, 

Borderers.'  (jje(^  an(j  jgft  hjm  a  legacy    Qf     £g00y    so     that 

he  might  feel  free  to  devote  himself  to  literature.  Wordsworth 
gladly  embraced  the  opportunity  ;  and  with  some  help  from 
pupils  settled  down  with  Dorothy  to  a  frugal  housekeeping  at 
Racedown,  in  the  south-east  of  Somersetshire.     Here  he  wrote 


312  A   HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITER ATUUE. 

his  only  dramatic  attempt,  the  tragedy  of  The  Borderers,  and  a 
poem  of  high  merit,  the  Ruined  Collate,  which  was  subsequently 
incorporated  in  the  first  book  of  The  Excursion.  Here  too  he 
met  Coleridge,  who  speedily  became  an  intimate  friend.  In 
1797  Wordsworth  and  his  sister  removed  to  Alfoxden  in 
Somersetshire,  near  the  Quantock  Hills,  not  far  from  Cole- 
ridge's residence  at  Nether  Stowey.  This  latter  was  a  rendezv- 
ous for  many  brilliant  writers  and  thinkers,  inspired  with 
revolutionary  ideas  about  Society  and  Art,  among  whom  were 
Lamb,  De  Quincey,  Southey,  and  Hazlitt.  A  sympathetic  and 
generous  publisher,  Joseph  Cottle,  of  Bristol,  befriended  their 
literary  ventures. 

In    1798    he    published    the    Lyrical     Ballads,    containing 
T    .   ,  D  ,,  ,  nineteen    of  his  poems,  Coleridge  contributing 

Lyrical  Ballads.  f  '  o  o 

The  Ancient  Mariner  and  three  other  pieces. 
These  were  republished  in  1800  with  a  dogmatic  preface  in 
which  Wordsworth  expounded  the  theory  of  poetic  art  in  accor- 
dance with  which  they  had  been  written.  The  importance  of 
this  volume  in  the  history  of  our  literature  has  been  pointed 
out  by  Dowden.  Of  the  two  tendencies  of  the  time,  the 
tendency  to  romance  was  liable  to  extravagance,  the  tendency 
to  realism  was  liable  to  a  hard,  dry  literalism.  '  English  poeiry 
needed,  first,  that  romance  should  be  saved  and  ennobled  by 
the  presence  and  the  power  of  truth — truth  moral  and  psycho- 
logical;  and  secondly,  that  realism,  without  losing  any  of  its 
fidelity  to  fact,  should  be  saved  and  ennobled  by  the  presence 
and  the  power  of  imagination — "the  light  that  never  was,  no 
sea  or  land,"  And  this  is  precisely  what  the  Lyrical  Ballads 
did  for  English  poetry. 

After     the    publication    of    this    volume     Wordsworth    and 
Dorothy  spent  a  winter  at  Goslar,  in    Hanover, 

In  Germany.  ,  ,  ,  r     ,        TT  , .. 

near  the  northern  slopes  of  the  Harz  Moun- 
tains. Here  he  learned  German,  and  composed  some  of  his 
best  poems,  Lucy  Gray,  Ruth,  The  Poet's  Epitaph,  Nutting,  and 
the  exquisite  group  of  poems  addressed  to  '  Lucy.'  Here  too 
he  planned  and  began  the  autobiographical  Prelude,  or  Growth 
of  a  Poet's  J/i/id,  a  poem  addressed  and  dedicated  to  Coleridge. 


WORDSWORTH. 


313 


This   was   finished  in  1805,  but  was  not  published  till  after  his 

death. 

Towards   the    close    of    1799,    Wordsworth  settled  with  his 
sister  at  Townend  in  Grasmere  ;   and  in    1880 
Marriage.  the    Colericiges   took   a   house  in  their  neigh- 

bourhood. On  October  4,  1802,  he  married  his  cousin,  Mary 
Hutchinson.  Thenceforward  Wordsworth  lived  an  ideal  poet's 
life,  consecrated  to  'plain  living  and  high  thinking' ;  surrounded 
by  congenial  friends  ;  inspired  by  the  familiar  voices  of  moun- 
tain, lake,  and  stream  j  and  above  all,  blest  by  the  constant 
home  companionship  of  a  devoted  sister  and  an  equally 
devoted  wife.  Here  he  planned  and  deliberately  pursued  the 
scheme  for  which  Nature  and  experience  alike  had  fitted 
him  ;  to  write  a  poem  of  lofty  philosophical  aims,  such  as 
posterity  should  not  willingly  let  die. 

That    poem,    in  its  integrity,  was  to  have  been  The  Recluse, 

to  consist  of  three  parts  ;    of    which,    however, 

Epreiude  "  on^Y   tne  seCond  part  was  actually  finished  and 

published  under    the    title    of    the    Excursion. 

The    Prelude   was  intended  as  an  introduction  to  The  Recluse ; 

Wordsworth  himself  comparing  the  Prelude  to   the  antechapel, 

and     The    Recluse    to   the   body  of  a  Gothic  Church  ;  while  his 

smaller  poems  he  regarded  as  '  the  little    cells,    oratories,    and 

sepulchral  recesses  ordinarily  included  in  those  edifices.' 

Three   children  were  born  to  Wordsworth  at  Townend.     In 
..    .  .,  1808  he  moved  to  Allan  Bank,  where  the    two 

Family  Life. 

youngest  were  born,  and  from  18 11  to  18 13  he 
lived  in  the  Rectory,  Grasmere.  Here  two  of  his  children  died, 
a  loss,  which  occasioned  him  deep  and  lasting  sorrow.  Life  at 
the  parsonage  in  sight  of  their  graves  became  unendurable  ; 
he  quitted  it  as  soon  as  possible  for  Rydal  Mount,  his  favourite 
and  last  abode.  Southey,  De  Quincey,  Coleridge  and  Arnold 
of  Rugby  were  here  his  neighbours  and  constant  companions. 
Wordsworth's  sole  luxury  was  travelling,  and  his  tours  usually 
bore  poetic  fruit.     Shortly  before  his  marriage 

TScotiand^etc.e'      ne  Paid  a  snort  vlsit  t0  France  with  his    sister, 
who    has   recorded    in  her  diary  the  incidents 


314  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

in  London  and  on  the  Calais  sands  which  he  has  immortalised 
in  two  of  his  noblest  sonnets,  Westminster  Bridge  and  '  It  is  a 
beauteous  evening.'  Similarly  in  her  diary  of  a  subsequent  tour 
in  Scotland  (1803  I  we  find  the  prose  original  of  Wordsworth's 
striking  lines  To  a  Highland  Girl,  which  originated  the  open- 
ing of  the  poem  to  his  own  wife,  '  She  was  a  phantom  of 
delight.'  Outcomes  of  the  same  tour  were,  At  the  Grave  of 
Burns,  Stepping  Westward,  The  Solitary  Reaper,  and  Rob 
Roy's  Grave.  A  second  tour  in  Scotland  produced,  among 
other  poems,  The  Brownie's  Cell.  Other  tours  on  the 
Continent,  in  North  Wales,  and  in  Ireland,  followed.  In 
the  summer  of  1807  Wordsworth  visited  for  the  first  time, 
Bolton  Priory,  in  Yorkshire,  the  beautiful  surroundings  of 
which  form  so  dramatic  a  setting  to  The  White  Doe  of  Rylstone, 
composed  after  that  tour.  In  1831,  with  his  daughter,  he  paid 
a  visit  to  Sir  Walter  Scott  at  Abbotsford  before  the  departure 
of  the  latter  for  Italy.  Yarrow  Revisited  and  the  touching 
sonnet,  '  A  trouble  not  of  clouds  nor  weeping  rain '  are 
memorials  of  that  excursion. 

Between  181 4     and    1816    Wordsworth    superintended    his 
eldest  son  John's  preparation  for   the    Univer- 

l.aodamia,  etc.  ..  rT  ,  ..,      ,  .  c     ., 

sity.  He  read  again  with  him  some  or  the 
standard  Latin  poets,  and  was  deeply  influenced  by  the  magic 
of  Virgil's  verse.  Laodamia  and  its  companion  poem  Dion 
(i 8 16)  form  stately  memorials  of  this  classic  renaissance  in 
Wordsworth's  poetic  career.  The  lines  composed  Upon  an 
Evening  of  Extraordinary  Splendour  and  Beauty  ;  the  River 
Duddon  Sonnets  ;  the  Sonnet  on  King's  College  Chapel ;  To 
the  Skylark,  A  Morning  Exercise,  and  Scorn  not  the  Sonnet; 
The  Primrose  of  the  Rock,  a  thesis  on  immortality  ;  and  two 
'  Evening  Voluntaries,'  Calm  is  the  Fragrant  Air  and  By  the 
Seashore,  with  other  poems  and  sonnets  chiefly  didactic,  bring 
us  to  the  close  of  Wordsworth's  poetical  career. 

The    death  by  shipwreck  of  his  loved  and  venerated  brother 
John    (1805)  ;  the    serious  illness  of  his  sister 
LattDea?hVS  '  Dorothy  (1  832)  ;  the  death  of  his  poetic  associ- 

ate   Coleridge    (1834),  and  of  his  wife's  sister, 


WORDSWORTH.  315 

Sarah  Hutchinson,  for  many  years  an  inmate  of  his  household  ; 
the  illness  and  subsequent  death  in  1847  of  his  daughter  Dora, 
who  had  married  a  Mr.  Quillinan— threw  a  shadow  over  the 
poet's  later  years,  though  these  sorrows  were  met  with  dignified 
fortitude  and  deepening  religious  resignation.  On  the  other 
hand,  these  years  were  brightened  by  the  ever-growing  re- 
verence with  which  the  public  had  begun  to  cherish  a  name 
which  for  so  long  had  been  the  butt  of  reviewers'  ridicule,  and 
the  object  of  contemptuous  neglect.  In  the  summer  of  1839 
Keble  welcomed  him  at  Oxford  amidst  a  scene  of  unpreceden- 
ted enthusiasm  to  receive  the  honorary  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Civil  Law.  In  October  1842  Sir  Robert  Peel  conferred  upon 
him  an  annuity  of  ^"300  from  the  Civil  List  in  recognition  of 
his  distinguished  literary  merit.  In  March  1843,  upon  the 
death  of  Southey,  he  accepted  with  some  reluctance  the  office 
of  Poet  Laureate.  He  closed  a  long  and,  on  the  whole,  a 
happy  life  at  Rydal  Mount,  April  23rd,  1850,  and  was  buried 
in  Grasmere  Churchyard. 

The    age  of  Wordsworth    embodied    a   reaction    from     the 
Classical  school    of    Dryden    and  Pope  to  the 
"ttonatoethkteof       Romanticism  of  the  age   of    Spenser,    Shakes- 
Spenser  and  peare,     and     Milton.     There    is,    however,    a 

distinct  difference  between  the  Romanticism 
of  the  two  ages.  As  has  been  already  remarked,  the  Elizabeth- 
an period  was  the  age  of  the  drama,  the  age  of  action  ;  that  of 
Wordsworth  is  the  age  of  the  novel,  the  age  of  introspection. 
A.  |.  Wyatt  has  pointed  out  that  'the  Elizabethans  came  into 
a  rich  heritage  of  life,  which  they  had  to  investigate  and  explore 
and  make  their  own;  their  world  was  a  world  of  action,  and 
therefore  their  literature  is  before  all  things  a  literature  of  action  ; 
they  did  not  often  pause  to  reflect  and  analyse,  they  acted  by 
impulse  or  by  intuition.  On  the  other  hand,  their  descendants 
of  the  early  nineteenth  century  were  necessarily  much  more 
self-conscious,  critical,  introspective  •  the  problems  of  life  lay 
heavy  upon  some  or  all  of  them,  not  least  probably  upon  those 
in  whose  works  they  seem  to  have  left  the  fewest  traces. 
Lastly,    the    age    of   Wordsworth  regarded  external  nature  in  a 


316  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

way  unknown  to  the  Elizabethans,  who,  apart  from  Shakespeare, 
appear  to  have  been  unable  even  to  assign  flowers  to  their 
proper  seasons.' 

The    most   striking   feature  of  Wordsworth's  character  was 

its   combination   of   the  lofty  and  austere  self- 

:i)  Austeritycom-      control  of  the  man  with   the    responsive,    self- 

b'clptiVviittly SUS'        forgetful     susceptivity       of      the     child.     He 

opposed,  as  has  been  well  said,  'a  steady 
resistance  to  the  ebb  and  flow  of  ordinary  desires  and  regrets. 
He  is  the  most  solitary  of  poets.  He  snatches  away  his  subject 
from  the  influence  of  the  lower  currents  it  is  beginning  to  obey, 
and  compels  it  to  breathe  its  life  into  that  silent  sky  of  con- 
scious freedom  and  immortal  hope  in  which  his  own  spirit 
lives.  In  all  his  characteristic  poems  on  Nature  there  is  just 
the  same  method  :  first  a  subjection  of  the  mind  to  the  scene 
or  object  of  feeling  studied  :  then  a  withdrawing  into  his 
deeper  self  to  exhaust  its  meaning.'  Almost  ascetic  in  the 
simplicity  of  his  habits,  Wordsworth's  manhood  was  as  pure 
and  flawless  as  Milton's.  Like  Milton  too  he  showed  himself 
capable  of  taking  a  prominent  part  in  the  public  business  of 
active  and  stirring  times.  Above  all,  like  Milton,  he  felt  him- 
self divinely  called  to  write  some  work  which  should  be  a 
landmark  for  humanity,  so  that  in  whole-hearted  self-dedication 
to  that  life-work  he  lived  hour  by  hour — 
'As  ever  in  the  great  Taskmaster's  eye.' 

But  he  was  deservedly  happier  than  Milton  in    his    relations 
,„,_  with    womanhood    and     childhood.      He    had 

(2)  Sympathy 

with  womanhood       nothing  of  the  half-contemptuous    assumption 

and  Childhood. 

of  woman's  inferiority  which  marks  the  creator 
of  Paradise  Lost  and  Samson  Agonistes.  Wordsworth  lived  on 
terms  of  frank  intellectual  equality  with  his  sister  and  his  wife,  and 
habitually  sought  their  sympathetic  criticism  of  his  writings.  He 
openly  maintained  that  his  wife's  contribution  to  The  Daffodils 
('  They  flash  upon  that  inward  eye  Which  is  the  bliss  of  soli- 
tude') more  than  made  up  for  all  the  abuse  of  the  reviewers  ; 
and  in  The  Sparrow's  Nest  he  touchingly  records  the  spiritual 
debt  he  owed  to  his  sister  Dorothy's  influence.     His    sympathy 


WORDSWORTH.  317 

with  childhood  is  the  very  soul  of  such  wellknown  poems  as 
We  are  Seven,  Lucy  Gray,  and  Alice  Fell;  and  it  led  him  to 
include  among  his  own  poems  two  beautiful  lyrics  by  his  sister 
Dorothy,  entitled  Address  to  a  Child  and  The  Mother's  Return. 
The  deep-seated  child-likeness  of  his  nature,  the  divine  weak- 
ness which  is  the  secret  of  all  genius,  he  has  perhaps  best 
illustrated  in  The  Poet's  Epitaph. 

A  prominent  feature  in  Wordsworth's  character  was  his 
intense  constitutional  love  of  Order,  Custom, 
(3inLd°Cu0stomW  and  Law.  His  brief  fever-fit  of  Revolutionary 
zeal  was  really  the  outcome  of  his  fundamental 
enthusiasm  for  the  dignity  of  Man  as  man  ;  a  dignity  which  to 
him  was  fundamentally  associated  with  the  abiding  calm  of 
Nature  as  seen  in  the  Cumbrian  lakes  and  mountains.  The 
subsequent  history  of  France  proved  for  him  a  never-to-be 
forgotten  object  lesson  on  the  moral  worthlessness  of  lawless 
revolt.  In  the  period  of  depression  that  followed  the  shattering 
of  this  illusion  he  seems  to  have  anchored  his  soul  in  the 
conception  of  God  as  Eternal  Law.  When  the  French  Revolu- 
tion finally  merged  itself  in  the  military  despotism  of  Napoleon, 
the  whole  force  of  his  inborn  patriotism  fired  with  a  passionate 
ardour  some  of  his  noblest  sonnets,  such  as  To  the  Men  of 
Kent,  On  the  Subjugation  of  Stvitzerland,  and  'When  I  have 
borne  in  memory.'  His  Ode,  to  Duty  (1805)  shows  that  all 
these  influences  combined  had  wrought  within  him  a  distinct 
consciousness  of  his  need  for  the  guidance  of  external  law,  and 
a  deepened  sense  of  the  kinship  of  the  unbroken  order  of 
Nature  with  the  moral  order  within  the  soul  of  man  (11.  25-48). 
Certain  it  is  that  from  this  time  onward  Wordsworth  became 
more  and  more  attached  to  the  Church  of  England  as  the 
embodiment  of  social  order  and  of  moral  law.  He  was  to  the 
last  a  steady  Conservative  ;  a  staunch,  though  never  a  bitter 
opponent  of  the  Reform  Bill  and  of  Catholic  Emancipation; 
and  a  fanatical  opponent  of  the  extension  of  the  railway  system 
to  the  Lake  District. 


318  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

An  able  American  critic  quotes  from  Dorothy  Wordsworth's 
Journals  passages  such  as  '  William  wrote  out 

(4  cai"vkitanryhYS'  Part  °^  n*s  Poem-  ana"  endeavoured  to  alter  it, 
and  so  made  himself  ill,'  as  indicating  that 
Wordsworth's  frequent  failure  as  a  poet  was  due  to  a  '  lack  of 
native  vitality.'  It  was  no  doubt  partly  this,  too,  that  made  him 
shrink  from  treating  of  love.  '  The  dynamic  force  of  love,  the 
power  of  love  as  the  supreme  mover  and  perturbator  of  men, 
frightened  him  from  the  theme.'  Similarly,  with  regard  to  his 
change  of  attitude  towards  the  French  Revolution,  it  was  not 
merely  principle  but  more  perhaps  '  the  aversion  to  limitless 
action  that  turned  him  against  France  when  the  Revolution 
began  to  work  itself  out  in  fact.'  It  was  to  some  extent  'the 
terror  of  events'  that  impelled  him  to  seek  refuge  in  the  worship 
of  Nature. 

The  most  obvious  characteristic  of    Wordsworth's  poetry  is 
its  great  inequality  ;   its  perplexing    mixture  of 

His  Poetry  ;  ,  ,  ,.  ,  .  . 

(i)  its  defects  :  the  sublimest  or  tenderest  poetry  with  the 
baldest  and,  at  times,  the  most  trivial  prose. 
About  poetry  unfortunately  Wordsworth  had  a  theory,  set  forth 
in  his  preface  to  the  Lyrical  Ballads,  a  theory  amplified  and 
re-stated  in  other  prefaces.  Byron  has  satirised  it  in  his  English 
Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers  : — 

'  That  mild  apostate  from  poetic  rule  ; 
Who,  both  by  precept  and  example  shows 
That  prose  is  verse,  and  verse  is  merely  prose.' 

Coleridge,  who  revered  Wordsworth  almost  to  idolatry,  has 
also  criticised  this  theory,  and  shown  its  essential  defects  in  his 
Biographia  Literaria,  Chaps,  xiv,  xvn — xxn.  This  theory 
— that  there  is  no  difference  between  the  language  of  poetry 
and  that  of  prose — is  at  best  but  a  half-truth.  Coleridge  has 
conclusively  shown  that  Wordsworth  himself,  when  most 
inspired,  set  his  own  theory  at  defiance.  He  estimates  that 
'  were  there  excluded  from  Mr.  Wordsworth's  poetic  composi- 
tions all  that  a  literal  adherence  to  the  theory  of  his  preface 
ivould  exclude,  two-thirds  at  least  of  the  marked  beauties  of  his 


WORDSWORTH.  31JJ 

poetry  must  be  erased.'  And  he  shows  as  clearly  that  the 
feeble  and  essentially  unpoetic  passages  which  occasionally 
disfigure  Wordsworth's  pages  are  demonstrably  due  to  his 
bondage  to  this  false  theory  ;  they  were  written  '  because  the 
poet  would  so  write.'  To  this  should  be  added  the  fact  that 
Wordsworth  wrote  far  too  much.  '  Continual  writing,'  as  A. 
Symons  remarks,  '  is  really  a  bad  form  of  dissipation  :  it  drains 
away  the  very  marrow  of  the  brain.'  He  went  on  composing 
just  the  same,  whether  the  inspiration  was  there  or  not,  secure 
that  everything  that  interested  him  must  interest  all  the  world. 
This  theorv  would  not  have  been  so  harmful,  had  Words- 
worth  possessed    any  sense    of  humour.      The 

(b)  Want  of  r  ■       ■  r       ,  .  , 

humour  and  want  of  it    is  a  negative  fault,  and  need  not  be 

Self-isolation.  ,     ,  .  r-|-,i  , 

regarded  as  serious.  1  here  is  no  humour  in 
Milton,  and  but  little  in  Tennyson.  But  in  Wordsworth's  case 
the  worst  result  was  that  the  absence  of  this  saving  quality 
prevented  his  seeing  the  ridiculous  element  in  some  of  the 
things  he  wrote.  Closely  allied  to  this  defect  was  a  wilful 
isolation  of  his  mind,  from  men  and  still  more  from  books. 
He  thought  out  everything  for  himself,  and  thus  is  sometimes 
as  tedious  as  a  self-taught  mathematician  who  waxes  eloquent 
over  his  discovery  of  the  Rule  of  Three.  These  two  personal 
defects,  want  of  humour  and  self-isolation,  no  doubt  are  the 
chief  causes  of  the  prolixity,  stiffness,  and  heaviness  of  touch 
which  are  the  chief  faults  of  Wordsworth's  less  inspired 
passages. 

Hence  too  comes  the  narrowness    of  his  range.     He  was  a 

man    of   one   book.     That   one  book  was  the 

(c)  Restricted  Lake  District  :  and  the  Cumbrian  dalesman,  its 

range. 

embodied  genius.  When  he  travelled  abroad, 
his  heart  remained  at  home  ;  in  the  Alps  and  the  Apennines, 
on  Como  or  Maggiore,  he  saw  only  reminiscences  of  Helvellyn 
and  Windermere  ;  and  the  'cottage  girls'  of  Italy  and  Switzer- 
land whom  he  celebrated  in  song  are  but  faint  echoes  of  the 
Highland  lass  whose  beauty  so  fascinated  his  sister  Dorothy 
and  himself.  This  was  partly  constitutional  ;  but  it  was  largely 
due  to  his   fixed  rule,   viz ;  that  the  poet's   duty   is  to  describe 


320  A   HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITER  ATTJkE. 

the  elementary    feelings  of    humanity  in  the  actual  language  of 
the  poor. 

Another    limitation    (which  has  been  already  referred  to)  is 

the  almost  entire  absence    of   passionate    love 

(L.oveb-SpeoneCtery0f      in  nis  writings.     This  too  was  partly  the  result 

of  an  over-scrupulous  conscientiousness.     He 

once  said,  'Had  I  been  a  writer  of  love-poetry,    it    would    have 

been   natural    to    me  to  write  it  with  a  degree  of  warmth  which 

could  hardly  have  been  approved  by  my  principles,  and    which 

might   have   been    undesirable   for    the  reader.'     Wordsworth 

has  composed  but  three  love-poems,  included  among    the    five 

'Lucy'  poems,    which   are  among  the  finest  that  he  has  written. 

How   far   the    sentiment    of  these  was  real,  how  far  imaginary, 

remains  an  insoluble  problem. 

The  most  noticeable  merit   in    Wordsworth's    poetry    is    its 

purity  and  simplicity  of  style.     How  great  was 

la!  Purity  anV      tne  neec^  f°r  h's  life-long  crusade    against   the 

Sirstyie'ty  °f       established    'poetic    diction'    of  his  day  is  best 

illustrated  by  the  fact  that  even    he    could  not 

wholly   free    himself  from  its  unreal,  stilled  phrases.     He  calls 

a  gun  a  'deadly  tube'  {Recluse,  i,  277),   or  a  '  thundering  tube  ' 

{Descriptive  Sketches,  61)  ;   and  describes    an    eclipse    as    'the 

hour    when    Sol   was  destined  to  endure  That  darkening  of  his 

radiant  face.' 

Of  his  strict  fidelity  in   delineating   the    external    world    M. 
Arnold    has  aptlv  said  :  '  Nature  herself  seems 

(b)  Austere  yet 

vivid  Natural-       to  write  for    him    with    her    own    bare,    sheer, 

ness.  . 

penetrating  power.  .  .  .  His  expression 
may  often  be  called  bald,  as  for  instance  in  the  poem  of 
Resolution  and  Independence,  but  it  is  bald  as  the  bare  mountain 
tops  are  bald,  with  a  baldness  which  is  full  of  grandeur.'  His 
happiest  phrases  come  from  direct  out-of-door  study  of  Nature  ; 
he  is  as  accurate  an  observer  as  Tennyson,  while  his  expression 
is  simpler.     Here  are  a  few  examples  : — 


WORDSWORTH.  321 

The  budding  twigs  spread  out  their  fan 

To  catch  the  breezy  air.1 

The  busy  dor-hawk  chases  the  white  moth 

With  burring  note.2 

With  the  din 

Smitten,  the  precipices  rang  aloud  ; 
The  leafless  trees  and  every  icy  crag 
Tinkled  like  iron.3 

Over  his  own  sweet  voice  the  stock-dove  broods.4 
A  pool  bare  to  the  eye  of  heaven.5 
Wordsworth's  work  is  always  characterised    by    seriousness 
and  sanity.     His  poetry  reflects   himself.     He 
(°LndSanftyeSS        resolutely  kept  his  life  and  his    singing  tuned 
to  the  keynote  of  truth  and   soberness.     There 
is  nothing  morbid,   sentimental,  or  sensuous    about    his    verse, 
tiis  simplest  themes  are  always 

'  With  something  of  a  lofty  utterance  drest — 

Choice  word  and  measured  phrase, 

a  stately  speech  ; 

Such  as  grave  livers  do  in  Scotland  use, 
Religious  men,  who  give  to  God  and  man  their  dues.' 
With  this  quality  is  closely  associated    Wordsworth's   stern, 
uncompromising    morality.     Here    he    is     in 
^ii^MoTaTit™'      sharp  contrast  with  Byron,  the  poet    of    licen- 
tious   lawlessness  ;    and    with     Shelley,     the 
apostle  of  revolt  against  the  marriage-law.     He  touches  unwill- 
ingly the  theme  of  unlawful  love,  and  always    with    the    object 
of   revealing    its    essential    baseness.     Hence,    in    spite  of  his 
inevitable    admiration    for    Nelson's    genius,    he      refused     to 
associate  his  name  with  his  poem  on  The  Happy   Warrior. 

Another  marked  characteristic  of    his    poetry    is    the    deep 

sympathy  it  shows  for  man  as  man.     Through 

iMa3n^saiviaYnf0r       tms    imaginative   sympathy     the     elementary 

passions  of  humanity  and  external  nature    be- 

1   Lints  written  in  Early  Spring,  17-18. 
a   Calm  is  the  Fragrant  Air,  22,  23. 

3  Influence  of  Natural  Objects,  83  —  86. 

4  Resolution  and  Independence,  5 

5  lb.  54. 

21 


322  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

come  parts  of  one  divinely  ordered,  harmonius  whole.  This 
truth  illuminates  all  his  work  ;  we  hear  it  in  the  song  of  The 
Solitary  Reaper  ;  it  inspires  the  large-hearted  charity  of  Rob 
Roy's  Grave  ;  it  is  like  the  cadence  of  a  vesper  hymn  in 
'Calm  is  the  Evening  air  ;'  it  colours  his  musings  on  the 
scenery  of  the  Wye,  and  in  the  Immortality  Ode;  it  strikes  a 
note  of  sadness  in  his  ecstatic  welcome  to  the  budding  tender- 
ness of  spring  (St.  X).  It  uplifts  him  amidst  the  dreariest 
surroundings,  as  in  The  Leechgatherer  or  The  Old  Cumberland 
Beggar. 

Closely  connected  with  this  is  his  sympathy    for   the   brute 
creation,  the  'minute  obeisances  of  tenderness' 

(°  SAY^imaaisY  f°r      for  beast  or  bird>  which  in  later  life  he  number- 
ed  'with  his  first  blessings.'    In  the  Sparrow's 
Nest,  and  his  lines  To  a  Butterfly,  he  records  how   his    sister's 
reverent  awe  planted  in  his  soul  the  first  germs  of   this    higher 
feeling.     The  story  of  Hart  leap-  Well  repeats  this  lesson  on    a 
loftier  scale.  That  poem  ends,  like  Coleridge's  Ancient  Mariner, 
with  an  emphatic  plea  for  humanity  towards  all  sentient  creatures. 
More  than   this,    Wordsworth    extends    this    tenderness    to 
plants  as  well  as  animals.     He  believed  (Lines 
{vlfe£bfeK°r       Written   in   Early   Spring   n,  12,  19-22)  that 
flowers   and     leaves    had  a  conscious  pleasure 
in  life,  and  in  Nutting  he    describes    his    sympathetic    pain    at 
the    sight  of   wantonly    broken  boughs.     In  Humanity  he  ex- 
pressly connects   man,   brute,    and  flower  in  one  ascending  law 
of  love,  as  sacred  in  its  lowest  as  in  its  highest  links  ;  while,  in 
The  Primrose  of  the  Rock,  the  primrose  tuft  is  for  him 

'A  lasting  link  in  Nature's  chain 
From  highest  heaven  let  down.' 

Lastly  we  may  notice  the  power  and  truth    of  Wordsworth's 
imagery.     He  seldom    uses   the   conventional 
V'fu<|1  i^iagery!h"       comparisons    of   the   'classical'     school.     His 
imagery  comes  direct  from    his    intense    com- 
munion with  that  world  of  leaf  and  stream  and  sky  in  which   he 
lived  and  moved  and  had  his  being.     Sea  and  sunset,  dewdrop 


WORDSWORTH.  323 

and  rainbow,  inspire  his  metaphors ;  and  cloud  scenery  he 
has  made  specially  his  own.  He  himself  wanders  'lonely  as  a 
cloud  '  ;  the  knight  of  Hart-leap  Well  rides  'with  the  slow 
motion  of  a  summer  cloud' ;  and  the  motionless  leechgatherer 
is  imaged  by  the  cloud — 

That  heareth  not  the  loud  winds  when  they  call  ; 
And  moveth  all  together,  if  it  move  at  all. 
Any  adequate    survey    of  Wordsworth's  poetry  must   notice 
his    attitude   towards    Nature     and     Science, 
"  Nature.6  °         Politics  and  Religion,  as  contrasted  with  other 
poets  who    preceded    or    followed    him.     We 
have    seen  that   to    Wordsworth  Nature  was  a  living  Presence, 
the  highest  and  best  of  all  teachers.     The  Prelude    is    a    syste- 
matic account  of  his  moral  and  spiritual  education  in    Nature's 
school.     All    his    poems  are  more  or  less  tinged  with  his  fixed 
belief  that  — 

One  impulse  from  a  vernal  wood  May  teach  you  more  of  man 
Of  moral  evil  and  of  good,  Than  all  the  sages  can. 

Insensibility  to  such  impressions  he  regards  as  spiritual 
death,  the  state  typified  in  Peter  Bell.  His  ideal  saint  is  the 
person  who,  from  childhood  upwards,  is  habitually  responsive 
to  Nature's  touch  ;  typified  in  his  Dovedale  '  Lucy'  whose 
education  is  described  in  'Three  years  she  grew  in  sun  and 
shower.'  Here  Wordsworth  stands  almost  alone.  To 
the  Pope  school  Nature  is  a  convenient  storehouse  of  con- 
ventional images  ;  something  that  may  become  poetical  if  set 
off  with  tricks  of  phrase  and  the  paint  of  metaphor.  To 
Shakespeare,  and  even  to  Tennyson,  Nature  is  seldom  more 
than  a  vividly  sympathetic  background  for  human  emotion. 
With  Wordsworth  all  this  is  reversed.  For  him  Nature  comes 
first  and  man  second  ;  though  he  did  realise  that  man  himself 
'half  creates'  as  well  as  perceives  the  glory  of  the  universe 
around  him  (Tintern  Abbey,  105-6).  In  the  Prelude  too 
Wordsworth  admits  that  the  imagination  '  must  give,  else  never 
can  receive,'  and  in  The  Excursion  this  latter  view  begins  to 
predominate,  until  in  the  fragmentary  Recluse  it  culminates 
in  the  wedding  of  the  'discerning  intellect  of  Man'  to  the  'goodly 


324  A   HANDBOOK  OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

universe.'  One  of  the  greatest  of  modern  thinkers,  James 
Hinton,  has,  in  Man  and  His  Dwelling  Place,  epitomized  on 
his  own  lines,  Wordsworth's  whole  system. 

The  poet  whose  attitude  towards  Nature  approaches  nearest 

to  Wordsworth's,  is  Shelley.     'As  the    poet    of 
ConsrhaeMe?'sWith       Nature,'  says  S.  Brooke,  'Shelley  had  the  same 

idea  as  Wordsworth,  that  Nature  was  alive  ;  but 
while  Wordsworth  made  the  active  principle,  which  filled  and 
made  nature,  to  be  Thought,  Shelley  made  it  Love.'  This  we 
must  supplement  by  saving  that,  while,  for  Wordsworth,  Nature 
is  '  both  law  and  impulse,'  with  Shelley  she  is  '  impulse'  alone, 
and  sympathises  with  his  chronic  attitude  of  revolt — his  cease- 
less and  exclusive  assertion  of  individual  liberty.  Again,  for 
Wordsworth,  Nature  is  one  ;  for  Shelley  she  is  virtually  many. 
Thus  Wordsworth  resembles  the  stern  self-controlled  law- 
centred  Jew,  with  his  reverent  worship  of  the  one  Jehovah  ; 
while  Shelley  is  the  passionate,  sensuous  lawless  Gentile,  with 
his  free,  familiar  worship  of  'gods  many  and  lords  many.' 
Hence  Shelley  perceived  in  Nature  only  that  which  appealed 
vividly  to  his  sensuous  self ;  he  had  no  eyes,  as  Wordsworth 
had,  for  the  homely  and  the  commonplace.  '  For,'  writes 
Francis  Thompson,  '  with  Nature  the  Wordsworthians  will 
admit  no  tampering  :  they  exact  the  direct  interpretative  repro- 
duction of  her;  that  the  poet  should  follow  her  as  a  mistress, 
not  use  her  as  a  handmaid.  To  such  following  of  Nature, 
Shelley  felt  no  call.  He  saw  in  her  not  a  picture  set  for  his 
copying,  but  a  palette  set  for  his  brush ;  not  a  habitation 
prepared  for  his  inhabiting,  but  a  Coliseum  whence  he  might 
quarry  stones  for  his  own  palaces.  Even  in  his  descriptive 
passages  the  dream-character  of  his  scenery  is  notorious  •,  it  is 
not  the  clear,  recognisable  scenery  of  Wordsworth,  but  a  land- 
scape that  hovers  athwart  the  heat  and  haze  arising  from  his 
crackling  fantasies.' 

An  instructive  contrast  may  be  drawn  between   Shelley    and 

Wordsworth  where  their  subject  happens  to  be 

Wordsworth  and  .  ,_,  .  -         ... 

Sheiieys  'Sky-        the  same.     1  hese   two    writers    were    familiar 

lark' contrasted.  ...  ,  ,        ,  o,      ,, 

with  each  other  s  poetry ;    Shelley  was  to  some 


WORDSWORTH.  325 

extent  a  disciple  of  Wordsworth,  and  Wordsworth  in  his  own 
Skylark  shows  traces  of  Shelley's  lyric.  The  two  poems 
should  be  read  in  their  entirety  and  then  compared.  Shelley's 
is  the  more  musical  of  the  two,  and  far  richer  in  fanciful 
imagery.  There  are  true  touches  of  nature  in  it  :  his  descrip- 
tion of  the  morning  star  ('Keen  as  are  the  arrows')  might  have 
been  written  by  an  astronomer,  so  accurate  is  it.  Equally  true 
are  the  references  to  a  glowworm,  to  a  rainbow  shower,  to 
April  grass,  and  to  flowers  opening  in  the  sunlight  after  rain. 
But  Shelley's  Skylark  itself  is  a  mere  figment  of  exuberant 
fancy,  untrue  to  nature  at  the  outset,  and  hyperbolical  all 
through.  '  Bird  thou  never  wert '  is  meaningless.  Words- 
worth's '  O  cuckoo,  shall  I  call  thee  bird  or  but  a  wandering 
voice  ?  '  admirably  expresses  the  phantom-like  ubiquity  of  that 
herald  of  the  Spring.  Everyone  has  heard,  hardly  any  one  has 
ever  seen  a  cuckoo.  But  in  the  case  of  the  skylark  'Thou  art 
unseen'  is  inapplicable,  for  the  skylark  is  always  plainly  visible 
if  you  look  in  the  right  direction,  and  it  seldom  rises  to  any 
great  height.  Tennyson  is  guilty  of  the  same  inaccuracy  when 
he  writes  {In  Mem.  CXV): 

'  And  drown'd  in  yonder  living  blue 
The  lark  becomes  a  sightless  song.' 

It  is  true  that  when  it  is  overhead,  soaring  towards  the  noontide 
brilliance  of  the  zenith,  it  does  often  become  relatively  invisible, 
and  thus  justifies  Wordsworth's  Miltonic  hyperbole,  'A  privacy 
of  glorious  light  is  thine.'  That  one  line  sums  up  perfectly  all 
that  is  true  in  a  dozen  stanzas  of  Shelley's  imaginatively  comp- 
licated metaphor.  In  twelve  lines  Wordsworth  has  reproduced 
with  exquisite  truth  and  felicity,  each  characteristic  of  his 
subject  :  the  rapturous  joyousness  of  its  song  ;  the  spiritual 
thread  which  binds  the  singer  to  its  nest ;  the  rapid  vibration 
of  its  wings ;  the  sudden  breaking  off  of  the  song  as 
the  bird  drops  to  its  nest.  Shelley  enlarges  on  the  first 
of  these,  but  does  not  notice  the  rest.  Lastly,  Shelley's 
poem  is  wholly  non-moral,  it  is  purely  sensuous;  whereas 
Wordsworth's   is   a  true    echo    of    the    Great    Teacher    who 


326  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

bade  us  consider  the  lilies,  and  learn  the  lesson  of  trust 
from  the  birds  of  the  air. 

Of  Science  Wordsworth  knew  little  or  nothing.  His 
(4)  His  attitude  to  habitual  attitude  towards  the  man  of  science 
Science.  proper  is  one  of  intolerant  aversion    (A  Poet's 

Epitaph,  17-20);  though,  in  his  prose  preface  to  a  poem 
composed  in  1839,  'This  lawn,  a  carpet  all  alive,'  he  acknow- 
ledges that  the  practice  of  dissecting  and  analysing  does  not 
make  people  soulless  ;  that  idea,  he  says,  has  become  prevalent 
because,  as  a  rule,  it  is  soulless  people  who  take  to  dissecting. 
And  he  adds  :  'The  beauty  in  form  of  a  plant  or  an  animal  is  not 
made  less  but  more  apparent  as  a  whole  by  more  accurate 
insight  into  its  constituent  properties  and  powers.'  To  the  wide 
inductions  of  modern  science,  however,  his  mind  was  closed  ; 
nor  does  he  ever  attain  to  that  minute  delicacy  of  touch  in 
describing  flower  or  landscape  which  is  one  of  Tennyson's 
charms. 

Wordsworth  was  the  poet  of  all  that  was  fundamentally  true 

in  the  great  world-movement  which,  for  a  time, 

<5)  His  attitude         culminated    in    the    volcanic    outburst  of  the 

to  politics. 

French  Revolution.  '  Liberty,  Equality,  Fra- 
ternity', is  the  keynote  of  a  poetry  which  is  really  an  impas- 
sioned philosophy.  '  He  made  the  illiterate,  the  half-witted 
and  the  children,'  writes  Magnus,  '  more  potent  media  of 
philosophic  truth  than  the  princes  of  intellect  •,  while  his 
democratisation  of  poetic  diction  was  a  conscious  part  of  his 
democratic  scheme.  ....  The  scheme  of  democracy  to 
which  Wordsworth's  disillusion  (after  the  French  Revolution 
had  converted  him)  was  the  practical  democracy  towards  which 
the  nineteenth  century  has  tended... His  democracy  was 
conservative.  He  retained  existing  divisions  of  society,  and 
affected  no  disguise  of  their  utility  in  stormy  protests  against 
their  artificial  character.  The  whole  value  of  his  French 
experience  lay  in  his  conviction  that  no  manner  of  hasty  legisla- 
tion could  permanently  influence  the  happiness  of  the  race. 
True  reform  must  be  from  within.5  Hence  the  external 
reform  on  which  he    most   strenuously   insisted    was   precisely 


WORDSWORTH.  327 

that  which  is  postulated  by  a  democracy  of  Character,  viz :  the 
duty  of  the  State  to  give  education  to  every  one  of  her  children, 
{Excursion,  IX,  293-335).  And  in  this  education  Religion  must 
be  a  paramount  influence. 

This  brings  us  to  Wordsworth's    attitude    to    Religion.     It 

may  seem  strange  that  Wilson   in  his  Recrea- 
(6toHRefigionde        tions   °f   Christopher     North    speaks    of  the 

religious  aspect  of  Wordsworth's  poetry  as  a 
'  great  and  lamentable  defect.'  Leigh  Hunt  fears  that  he  will 
be  taken  by  posterity  as  'a  kind  of  Puritan  retainer  of  the  Estab- 
lishment.' The  truth  is  that  Wordsworth  never  formulated  his 
religion;  he  did  not  even  consciously  think  it  out.  It  had  two 
aspects.  One  was  the  idea  of  Law  and  Duty,  which  permeates 
his  whole  life-work.  The  British  Constitution  and  the 
Established  Church  seemed  to  him  the  appointed  safe-guards 
for  these  fundamental  sanctities.  Hence  arose  his  growing 
affection  for  both,  which,  as  age  enfeebled  his  inspiration, 
degenerated  into  the  Toryism  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Sonnets  and 
of  his  prose  pamphlet  (1829)  against  the  Catholic  Relief  Bill. 
The  other  was  what  he  felt  out,  rather  than  thought  out  for 
himself  from  childhood  onwards.  It  was  identical  with  what 
Tennyson  has  so  perfectly  described  as  'The  Higher  Pantheism.' 
What  the  relation  is  between  this  and  Christianity  ;  whether 
indeed  the  two  are  logically  or  spiritually  compatible,  were 
questions  that  never  entered  his  mind.  He  took  Christianity 
as  he  found  it,  with  'a  wise  passiveness.'  Certainly  no  one  ever 
deprecated  more  strenuously  than  he  did  the  dead  agnosticism, 
the  all-pervading  materialism,  to  which  a  one-sided  and 
absorbing  devotion  to  physical  science  is  apt  to  lead. 

Thi  White  Doe  of  Rylstone  was  composed   in  1807,    after  a 

visit  to  the    romantic    scenery    round    Bolton 
TheKonD?e°f       Priory    >n    Yorkshire.     Its    central  theme    is 

the  spiritual  sympathy  between  dumb  animals 

and    the  saintliest  types  of  humanity.     The  latter  are  typified  in 

the   lady    Emily,    sole    survivor  of  the  members  of  the  Norton 

family,  who  all  perished  tragically  in  the  Catholic  rising  against 

Queen   Elizabeth    (1569).     Her   brother  Francis,  the  eldest  of 


328  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

the  family,  is  nearest  to  her  in  spiritual  sympathies.  He  at 
first  refused  to  join  his  father  in  what  he  felt  to  be  a  hopeless 
and  an  unwarrantable  rebellion ;  afterwards  in  expiation  of 
this  unfilial  prudence,  he  follows  his  brothers  unarmed,  and  at 
their  execution  is  entrusted  with  the  duty  of  bringing  the 
banner,  wrought  at  her  father's  command  by  the  lady  Emily, 
back  to  its  resting-place  in  Bolton  Priory.  He  faithfully  fulfils 
the  charge,  but  on  his  return  journey  is  slain  by  the  Earl  of 
Sussex.  The  Doe  is  the  central  figure  in  the  landscape  when 
Francis  is  bidding  a  pathetic  farewell  to  his  sister  before 
setting  out  on  his  pilgrimage  of  atonement.  It  reappears  at 
each  spiritual  crisis  of  the  story,  a  living  emblem  of  Emily's 
purification  through  the  sorrows  of  self-abnegation,  and  of 
the  final  beatitude  of  her  perfect  self-surrender  to  the 
Divine  Will. 

The  Prelude  (in  fourteen  books),  and  The  Excursion  (in  nine 
books),  have  been   already    referred    to.     The 
■Excursion."  former  is  chiefly  valuable  as  Wordsworth's  spiri- 

tual autobiography.  It  shows  in  detail  how  the 
experiences  of  childhood,  boyhood,  university  life,  and  foreign 
travel,  all  gradually  prepared  him  for  his  conscious  vocation  as 
Priest  and  Prophet  of  Nature  and  of  Man.  The  Excursion,  as  we 
have  seen,  is  but  a  fragment  of  the  great  poem  he  hoped  to  make 
his  life-work.  It  embodies  his  mature  philosophy  of  Nature 
and  of  Life.  It  is  written  throughout  in  the  poet's  own  person ; 
but  a  dramatic  interest  is  given  to  the  discussion  of  abstruse 
themes  by  the  introduction  of  three  characters  :  the  Wanderer,  a 
kind  of  poet-pedlar,,  unlearned  in  the  craft  of  verse,  but  taught  a 
homely  wisdom  by  wide  experience  of  nature  and  of  men-,  the 
Solitary,  an  embodiment  of  Wordsworth's  own  disillusions  and 
disappointments  connected  with  the  French  Revolution  ;  and 
the  Pastor,  who  crowns  their  conclusions  of  philosophic  calm 
with  the  sanctions  and  consolations  of  the  Christian  faith. 
The  three  lines  from  Book  IX  among  the  '  Quotations  '  form 
a  kind  of  brief  epitome  of  the  whole  poem. 


WORDSWORTH. 


329 


Wordsworth    himself    always    placed    the     Ode   on  the  Inti- 
mations of  Immortality  at  the  end  of  all  editions 
°deZ$"Wr~  of    his    works    published    during  his  lifetime. 

In  a  sense,  therefore,  he  regarded  it  as  a  kind 
of  epitome  of  his  poetic  philosophy.  He  took  three  years 
(1803-6)  over  it,  and  it  is  commonly  regarded  as  his  master- 
piece, though  Coleridge  among  his  contemporaries,  and 
Walter  Pater  and  Matthew  Arnold  among  moderns,  have  given 
it  but  a  qualified  admiration,  especially  in  its  seventh  and 
eighth  stanzas.  '  Its  true  merit,'  remarks  a  recent  critic,  '  lies 
in  its  opening  and  conclusion,  not  in  the  ingrafted  metaphysical 
speculations.  The  disparagement  of  earth's  pleasures  in  the 
sixth  strophe,  and  onwards  is  practically  abandoned  towards  the 
end  for  a  re-statement  of  the  philosophy  arrived  at  in  the  final 
books  of  The  Prelude.  The  poem  contains  eleven  stanzas 
(or  strophes).  In  stanzas  1  and  2  the  poet  tells  us  that  the 
whole  visible  universe  has  lost  a  mysterious  glory  which  it 
possessed  for  him  as  a  child.  In  stanzas  3  and  4,  while  the 
world  rejoices  around  him,  he  rebukes  himself  for  sadness  at 
his  loss.  In  stanzas  5  to  8  he  explains  the  reason  of  this 
feeling.  The  key  to  it  is  the  doctrine  of  human  pre  existence. 
We  come  from  the  glories  of  a  heavenly  world  ;  in  infancy 
and  childhood  those  glories  are  still  visible  to  us,  reflected  in 
the  outward  Universe  ;  but  the  routine  of  life  dulls  this  pre- 
natal consciousness,  and  in  manhood  the  world  becomes 
commonplace  and  prosaic.  In  stanza  9  he  notes  that  occa- 
sional flashes  of  this  pre-natal  glory  come  to  us  at  times ; 
wholly  inexplicable,  and  yet  the  surest  proof  of  our  real 
relation  to  the  Eternal  world.  In  stanzas  10  and  1  1  the  poet 
thankfully  owns  that,  though  this  mysterious  glory  has  set 
below  the  horizon  of  life,  yet  it  still  is  visible  to  thoughtful 
minds  in  a  kind  of  sober  twilight — in  the  human  sympathies 
through  which  the  humblest  flower  presents  a  new  and  deeper 
meaning. 

Laodamia,  Wordsworth  tells  us,  grew  out  of  its  closing 
incident,  narrated  in  Pliny  (Hist.  Nat.,  xvi. 
44),    how    the    trees    round    the  tomb  of  Lao- 


330  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

damia's  husband..  Protesilaus,  grew  till  they  were  tall  enough  to 
see  the  towers  of  Troy,  where  he  had  met  his  death  by  an  act 
of  heroic  self-sacrifice,  and  then  withered  away  only  to  grow 
up  again, — '  A  constant  interchange  of  growth  and  blight.' 
Sucti  a  touch  as  this,  of  Nature's  communion  with  Man, 
would  appeal  powerfully  to  Wordsworth.  Laodamia,  the 
legend  tells  us,  mourned  her  husband  so  faithfully  that  he  was 
allowed  for  three  hours  to  revisit  her  from  the  abodes  of  the 
dead.  In  their  interview  Protesilaus  rebukes  her  womanly 
weakness  and  her  longings  for  earthly  love,  and  exhorts  her 
to  prepare  by  steadfast  self-control  for  a  spiritual  reunion  with 
him  hereafter.  In  this  poem  Wordsworth  deliberately  tried  to 
dramatise  the  Greek  ideal  of  life,  instead  of  allowing  the  poem 
to  grow  of  itself  within  him  ;  hence,  as  Arnold  has  noted, 
'  this  profoundly  natural  post  becomes  for  once  "artificial," 
in  a  poem  which  has  been  classed  among  his  masterpieces.' 
Michael,  a  Pastoral  poem  (1800)  was  written  at  Grasmere, 
and  was  based  on  events  that  had  occurred 
in  the  neighbourhood.  The  sheepfold, 
Wordsworth  tells  us,  still  remained,  or  rather  the  ruins  of  it. 
Much  of  the  poem  forms  a  typical  illustration  of  his  theories 
about  poetry.  Here  we  have  an  ordinary  homely  story  written 
in  ordinary  homely  language.  With  Michael  should  be  com- 
pared and  contrasted  Tennyson's  Dora.  Both  are  tales  of 
humble  life,  and  in  both  the  diction  is  severely  simple  and 
unadorned ;  both  are  full  of  strong  pathetic  touches,  and 
here  Wordsworth's  poem  excels  that  of  Tennyson  ;  but  there 
is  a  poetic  dignity  and  restraint  about  Dora  which  is  almost 
entirely  absent  in  Michael.  Tennyson  could  never  have 
written  such  lines  as  the  following,  which  are  simply  '  prose 
cut  into  lengths  '  : — 

'At  length 
The  expected  letter  from  their  kinsman  came, 
With  kind  assurances  that  he  would  do 
His  utmost  for  the  welfare  of  the  boy  ; 
To  which  requests  were  added  that  forthwith 
He  might  be  sent  to  him.1 


WORDSWORTH.  331 

The  story  is  of  a  shepherd  Michael,  living  in  Grasmere, 
and  his  son  Luke,  both  patterns  of  industry.  Unhappily 
Michael  had  made  himself  surety  for  a  nephew,  who  failed  in 
business,  and  Michael  thus  became  responsible  for  his  debts. 
At  first  he  thought  of  selling  part  of  his  land  to  pay  the  debt. 
This,  however,  he  felt  to  be  morally  impossible  ;  the  land 
was  a  part  of  his  ancestral  life  and  of  all  his  family  hopes. 
Accordingly  he  decided  to  send  Luke  to  join  a  kinsman  of 
theirs,  a  thrifty  tradesman  in  town.  Before  Luke  left,  the 
father  and  son  went  together  to  a  part  of  their  farm-lands 
where  a  sheepfold  was  being  built  ;  as  yet  only  the  stones  had 
been  heaped  up  on  the  spot.  Luke  solemnly  laid  the  first  stone 
of  the  building  as  a  covenant  of  love  between  himself  and  his 
father  ;  who  after  his  departure  went  on  slowly  with  the  work  of 
building  up  the  walls.  But  Luke  fell  into  bad  company,  and 
at  last  to  avoid  the  consequences  of  his  criminal  vices,  he  had 
to  hide  himself  in  a  foreign  land.  The  broken-hearted  father 
hopelessly  toiled  on  at  his  sheepfold,  but  (the  tsvo  lines  are 
among  Wordsworth's  best) — 

'Many  and  many  a  day  he  thither  went, 
And  never  lifted  up  a  single  stone.' 

The  old  man  died  soon  after,  leaving  the  fold  still  un- 
finished. 

Besides  poetry,  Wordsworth,  like  Milton,  published  some 
Prose  works.  Prose    works   of    high     merit.     His    youthful 

Apology  for  the  French  Revolution  (1793)  's 
full  of  lofty  eloquence  and  generous  enthusiasm.  His  reply 
to  John  Wilson's  strictures  on  Modern  Education  in  the 
columns  of  The  Friend  is  an  admirable  exposition  of  his  views 
of  the  educative  influences  of  Nature  set  forth  autobiographi- 
cally  in  The  Prelude.  There  is  great  literary  merit  in  his 
letter  to  Bishop  Blomfield  in  opposition  to  the  Catholic  Relief 
Bill.  In  addition  to  the  prose  prefaces  and  appendices  to 
various  poems  in  which  he  discussed  and  defended  his  own 
theories  of  poetic  diction,  he  wrote  some  interesting  essays  on 
Epitaphs,  and  a  Guide  to  the  Lakes  which  for  beauty  of   diction 


382  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

and  anistic  insight  is  worthy  of  a  place  beside  the  masterpieces 
of  Ruskin. 


QUOTATIONS. 

And  'tis  my  faith  that  every  flower 
Enjoys  the  air  it  breathes. 

Lines  written  in  Early  Spring,   n-12. 
The  Child  is  father  of  the  Man.     'My  heart  leaps  up:     7. 
O  cuckoo  !  shall  I  call  thee  bird, 
Or  but  a  wandering  Voice  ?     To  the  Cuckoo,  3-4. 
The  harvest  of  a  quiet  eye.     A  Poet's  Epitaph,  51. 
And  beauty  born  of  murmuring  sound 
Shall  pass  into  her  face.     'Three years  she  grew ;'  29-30. 

That  inward  eye 
Which  is  the  bliss  of  solitude.     'I  wandered  lonely,'  21-22. 
Never  to  blend  our  pleasure  or  our  pride 
With  sorrow  of  the  meanest  thing  that  feels. 

Hart-leap  Well,   179-180. 
The  heavy  and  the  weary  weight 
Of  all  this  unintelligible  world.      Tintern  Abbey,  39-40. 

'  I  have  learned 
To  look  on  Nature  not  as  in  the  hour 
Of  thoughtless  youth  ;  but  hearing  oftentimes 
The  still  sad  music  of  humanity. 

And  I  have  felt 

a  sense  sublime 

Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused, 

Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns. 

And  the  round  ocean  and  the  living  air, 

And  the  blue  sky,  and  in  the  mind  of  man  ; 

A  motion  and  a  spirit,  that  impels 

All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 

And  rolls  through  all  things.'     lb.     89-100. 

Nature  never  did  betray 

The  heart  that  loved  her.     lb.      122-3, 

(Let)  The  swan  on  still  St.  Mary's  Lake 

Float  double,  swan  and  shadow.      Yarrow    Unvisited,    43-44- 


WORDSWORTH. 


333 


The  good  old  rule 

Sufficeth  them,  the  simple  plan, 

That  they  should  take  who  have  the  power, 

And  they  should  keep  who  can.     Rob  Roy's  Grave,  37-40. 

Thy  soul  was  like  a  star,  and  dwelt  apart.     London,  1802,  9. 

The     river    glideth   at    his    own     sweet 
Bridge,  12. 

Old,  unhappy,  far-off  things, 

And  battles  long  ago.     Solitary  Reaper, 

The  light  that  never  was,  on  land  or  sea. 

The  glory  and  the  freshness  of  a   dream. 
mortality,     5 . 

The  primal  duties  shine  aloft — like  stars  ; 

The  charities  that  soothe,  and  heal,  and  bless, 

Are  scattered  at  the  feet  of  Man — like  flowers. 
Excursion,  ix,  238-240. 

A  primrose  by  the  river's  brim 

A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 

And  it  was  nothing  more.     Peter  Bell,  Pt.  I.  St.  12. 


will.       Westminster 


19,  20. 

Peele  Castle,     15. 

Intimations   of  Im- 


SCOTT  (1771-1836). 

Sir    Walter  Scott,  the  most  popular  and  successful  of  story- 
tellers both  in  verse  and  prose,    was    born    in 
Parentage.  Edinburgh    August    15th,    1 771.     His    father 

was  a  Writer  to  the  Signet  or  lawyer,  the  first 
professional  man  of  an  old  border  family,  the  Scotts  of  Harden 
addicted  to  fighting  and  sport.  From  his  great-grandfather, 
also  a  Walter,  nick-named  'Beardie'  because  he  refused  to  trim 
his  beard  after  the  banishment  of  the  Stuarts,  the  poet  inherit- 
ed his  Jacobite  sentimentalism.  The  poet's  mother  was  a 
Miss  Rutherford,  the  exceptionally  well-educated  daughter  of 
a  physician.  It  was  she  who  stored  her  son's  mind  with  end- 
less legends  of  bygone  days.  Between  mother  and  son  there 
was  always  the  tenderest  sympathy.  Walter  was  the  ninth  of 
twelve  children  -,  of  whom  the  first  six  died  in  infancy. 

When    only    eighteen    months    old,    his    right    leg  became 
nearly  paralysed  through  a  teething-fever  ;  the 

Childhood.  ,  .  ,  ,  _ 

resulting  lameness  was  never  cured.  In 
consequence  of  this  illness  he  was  sent  to  live  with  his  grand- 
father at  Sandyknowe,  near  the  ruined  tower  of  Smailholm, 
described  in  his  Eve  of  St.  John.  Here  he  lived  an  out-of- 
door  life,  often  in  charge  of  the  shepherd,  lying  on  the  turf 
among  the  sheep.  He  was  the  pet  of  the  household  ;  and  in 
spite  of  his  lameness  rode  fearlessly  on  a  Shetland  pony ; 
clambered  about  the  Smailholm  crags  ;  drank  in  eagerly  all 
the  wild  legends  of  the  countryside,  and  delighted  himself 
with  declaiming  ballads  in  the  open  air.  These  scenes  are 
pictured  in  the  introduction  to  the  third  canto  of  Matmion. 
In  1779  ne  was  sent  to  tne  High  School,  Edinburgh,  where 

he    was   a    great   favourite    with    his    school- 
Education.  ...  .  ,.  , 

fellows,    as  an  enchanting  story-teller,  a  clever 

rock  climber,  and  a  fearless  fighter  with   the    street    boys.     At 

the  University  he  achieved  no  distinction,  and  openly  expressed 

his  contempt  for  the  Greek  language   and    literature.     But   he 


scott.  335 

studied   French   and    German,    and,    later    on,  Italian  to  some 
purpose. 

In    1786    he   entered    his    father's   office  and  read  law  with 
considerable  interest,  chiefly  for  its  historic  or 
'"  hofficeherS         antiquarian      associations.     His      experiences 
with    his  father  he  has  idealised  in  the  charac- 
ter  of  'Saunders    Fairford'    in    Redgauntlet.     His    work    as  a 
lawyer's  clerk  brought  him  into  contact  with  many    and    varied 
features    of     Scottish     life ;    having   among    other    duties    to 
superintend  on  one  occasion  the  eviction  of  a  defaulting  tenant 
in  the  Highlands.  He  was  fond  of  company,  and  spent  so  large 
a  part  of  his  time  in  adventurous  rambles  that  his  father   feared 
he  would  never  be  fit  for  anything  better  than  'a  gangrel  scrape- 
gut,'  i.e.  wandering  fiddler.     However,  Scott  was  called  to   the 
bar   in    1792,    and    for  some  fourteen  years  actually  practised, 
though  he  never  earned  much  as  a  lawyer. 

During    his    apprenticeship  to  the  law  he  lost  his  heart  to  a 
Miss  Belches,  and  for  some  six  years  believed 

First  Love  affair.         ,  .  ,r  .  .  .  01  .. 

himself  a  favoured  suitor.  She  eventually 
married  another,  and  Scott  never  quite  got  over  his  disappoint- 
ment ;  his  broken  heart  he  says  was  afterwards  'handsomely 
pieced,  but  the  crack  will  remain  to  my  dying  day.'  Williamina 
Belches  was  more  or  less  his  ideal  heroine  in  The  Lay  of  the 
Last  Minstrel  and  Redgauntlet.  In  1797  Scott  in  his  short 
poem  of  the  Violet,  compares  her  eye  to  its  blue  petals  shining 
through  a  dewdrop  : — 

The  summer  sun  that  dew  shall  dry, 
Ere  yet  the  day  be  past  its  morrow  ; 

Nor  longer  in  my  false  love's  eye 

Remained  the  tear  of  parting  sorrow. 

On    Christmas    Eve,    1797,    Scott  married    Miss    Charlotte 
Margaret  Charpentier,  the  orphan  daughter  of 

Marriage.  _,  ..  T 

a  rrench  loyalist.  It  was  a  happy  marriage, 
and  Scott  was  a  devoted  husband  and  father.  At  first  he  lived 
in  a  country  cottage  at  Lasswade,  where  he  wrote  Glenfinlas 
and  the  Eve  of  St.  Johv  for  a  book  brought  out  by  M.  G. 
Lewis  (author  of  The  Monk).      He  had  produced  a  version  of 


336  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Burger's  Lenore  in  1796,  and  he  now  brought  out  a  translation 
of  Goethe's  Goetz  von  Berlichin°en, 

After  his  father's  death  in  1799  Scott  was  appointed  Sheriff 
of  Selkirk.  In  1800  he  induced  the  Ballantvnes 

Sheriff  of  Selkirk;         .  iV_  L   ,,.    ,  L   , 

The  Baiiantynes.  to  remove  their  printing  establishment  from 
Kelso  to  Edinburgh.  For  one  of  them,  James, 
he  entertained  a  strong  friendship.  He  arranged  to  give  them 
the  printing  of  his  projected  collection  of  Scotch  ballads,  The 
Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border  (1802-3)  ;  and,  disastrously 
for  himself,  he  became  in  1806  a  secret  partner  in  their 
business. 

In  1805  was  published  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  which 

met  with  immediate  popularity.     In    the    pre- 

mnstrd^  vious   year    Scott  had  removed  to  Ashestiel,  a 

small  house  among    beautiful    woods    on    the 

banks    of    the  Tweed.     Here  he  contributed  to  the  'Edinburgh 

Review,'  and  wrote  some  of  the  earlier  chapters    of     Waver  ley, 

but  the    unfavourable    criticism    of    his  friend  Erskine  caused 

them  to  be  laid  aside  for  nearly  ten  years. 

In    1806  Scott    was   appointed  Clerk  of   Sessions,  and  gave 
up  practising  at  the  Bar.     The  same  year    he 

Marmion.  .  _,  .  _     _  ,., 

began  to  write  Marmion  (1808),  which  was 
even  more  popular  than  the  Lay.  At  Ashestiel  he  adopted  the 
plan  of  rising  at  five  o'clock,  and  working  from  six  till 
breakfast  about  9  o'clock  ;  then  two  more  hours  of  desk-work  ; 
for  the  rest  of  the  day  he  was  in  the  saddle,  or  at  least 
out  of  doors. 

In    1808    Scott    had    a    quarrel    with  Jeffrey  over  an  unfair 

review  of   Marmion    in  the    'Edinburgh,'    and 
lw'i!«ki"":  joined  Murray  in  starting  the  'Quarterly'  (p.  66) 

The  same  year  Scott  published  an  elabo- 
rate edition  of  Dryden,  which  was  followed  by  one  of  Swift  in 
1814.  In  1 8 10  appeared  The  Lady  of  Lake,  which  proved 
a  «reat  success.  He  began  also  to  take  tours  among  the 
western  islands  of  Scotland,  and  to  make  mental  sketches  for 
a  Highland  poem.  These  afterwards  bore  fruit  in  The  Lord 
of  the  Isles  (1815). 


scott.  337 

We    now    come    to   the  fatal    turning-point   in  Scott's  life. 

Abbotsford.  In    l812'    with  lhe  helP  of  a  ]QSacY  of  /5.000 

and  a    mortgage    on    his    unwritten    poem    of 

Rokeby  I 18 1 3),  he  bought  a  farm  five  miles  from  Ashestiel,  and 
began  his  life-work  of  giadually  turning  it  into  the  baronial  man- 
sion of  Abbotsford.  Abbotsford  kept  enlarging  itself,  and,  with 
the  exercise  of  an  almost  princely  hospitality,  proved  a  most  ex- 
pensive hobby,  and  led  him  into  the  habit  of  spending  his  income 
before  it  was  earned.  In  addition  to  this  he  went  on  extending  the 
Ballantyne  publishing  business,  over  which,  though  he  provided 
the  greater  part  of  the  funds,  he  exercised  no  adequate  control. 
The  comparative    failure   of    Rokeby,    owing     to     Byron's 

sudden    rise    to   popular    favour,    made  Scott 
"<lWpoems.Last      determine  to  try  a   fresh    road    to   fame.     He 

revised  and  completed  the  unfinished  MS.  of 
Waver  ley  and  published  it  anonymously  in  1814.  It  proved 
a  marvellous  success,  and  revealed  to  its  author  the  secret  of 
his  true  literary  power.  It  was  an  added  pleasure  to  find  that 
his  success  as  a  novelist  depended  solely  on  the  merits  of 
his  work,  and  was  in  no  degree  due  to  his  personal  reputation. 
For  this  reason,  and  also  because  the  mystery  which  enveloped 
the  unknown  authorship  acted  as  a  stimulant  to  his  imagina- 
tion, he  took  every  precaution  to  keep  his  secret  safe.  It  was 
not  till  1827  that  he  finally  owned  at  a  public  dinner  that  he 
was  the  author  of  Waverley.  Some  less  important  poems, 
The  Vision  of  Don  Roderick  (181 1)  ;  The  Bridal  of  Triermain 
(18(3)  ;  The  Field  of  Waterloo  (1815)  ;  and  Harold  the  Daunt- 
less (181 7),  mark  the  close  of  Scott's  poetic  career.  In  18 13 
he  refused  the  Laureateship  in  favour  of  Southey. 

It  is  as  a  novelist  that  Scott  has  the  most  enduring   title    to 

fame.  His  long  series  of  tales  and  romances, 
Novlis/ai8i4^26.       almost   unexampled   as  to  mere  quantity,  and 

certainly  unparalleled  as  regards  variety  of 
interest,  filled  up  the  rest  of  his  working  life.  They  may  most 
simply  be  classed  as  (a)  those  written  from  the  pure  artistic 
impulse  (1 814 — 1826)  ;  (b)  those  written  under  a  stern  sense  of 
duty,  to  satisfy  his  creditors  (1826  —  1832).     To  the  year    181 5 

22 


338  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

belongs  Guy  Manner ing  ;  in  1816  no  fewer  than  three  were 
published,  The  Antiquary,  Old  Mortality,  and  The  Black 
Dwarf.  These  last  two  represent  probably  Scott's  best  and 
worst  work  ;  they  show  at  any  rate  that  his  genius  was  fitful, 
and  that  a  declension  in  power  cannot  be  ascribed  solely  to 
the  later  date  of  production.  For  two  years  (1817-1819) 
Scott  was  continually  subject  to  agonizing  attacks  of  cramp  in 
the  stomach.  During  this  period,  in  18 18,  were  composed 
Rob  Roy,  and  his  masterpiece  The  Heart  of  Midlothian.  The 
Bride  of  Lammer moor  (18 19),  with  A  Legend  of  Montrose 
(18 1 9),  and  Ivanhoe  (1S20)  were  all  dictated  to  amanuenses 
because  he  was  physically  incapable  of  writing,  and  almost 
doubled  up  with  agony.  The  Monastery  and  The  Abbot  (1820) 
were  written  after  his  health  was  re-established,  and  in  this 
year  he  was  made  a  baronet.  Kenilworth  (1821)  ;  The  Pirate 
and  The  Fortunes  of  Nigel  (1822) ;  Peveril  of  the  Peak  and 
Quentin  Durward  (1823);  St.  Ronans  Wetland  Redgauntlet 
(1824);  The  Betrothed  and  The  Talisman  (1825),  with  varying 
degrees  of  interest  and  excellence  bring  us  to  the  date  of  the 
great  crisis  in  his  life,  a  crisis  which  only  brought  out  to  the 
full  all  the  latent  heroism  of  Scott's  personal  character. 

Early  in  1826    the    crash    came.      In    1818    the    publishing 
department  of  the  Ballantyne  house  had    been 

Bankruptcy.  r  J 

wound  up.  But  the  printing  business  still 
remained  entangled  in  responsibilities  to  the  Constable  firm. 
The  latter  were  involved  in  business  liabilities  with  a  London 
firm,  which  failed  ;  the  Constable  firm  followed,  and  dragged 
over  the  Ballantynes  with  it.  On  January  17th  Scott  learned 
that  his  firm  was  bankrupt,  and  that  he  himself  was  liable  to 
the  extent  of  £  1 17,000.  He  might  have  availed  himself  of 
the  bankruptcy  laws  and  compounded  with  his  creditors  at 
once.  Instead  of  that  he  merely  asked  for  time,  and  doggedly 
resolved  to  pay  off  the  whole. 

Two  days  after  the  failure  he  took  up  the  interrupted   novel 

Woodstock,  and  wrote  twenty  pages.     His  wife 

ib,  waveriey  ^je(j  soon  after  and  Scott  felt  the  bereavement 

Novels,  1826-1832 

keenly.     He  toiled  bravely  on,  and    Woodstock 


scott.  339 

came  out  in  1826;  then  The  Life  of  Napoleon  (1827) ;  the 
first  series  of  Chronicles  of  the  Canongale  (1827);  Tales  of  a 
Grandfather  (1827-30)  ;  The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth  (1828) ;  Anne 
of  Geier  stein  (1829);  Letters  on  Demo  no  logy  and  Witchcraft 
(1850);  a.  History  of  Scotland  (1829-30)  ;•  Count  Robert  of 
Paris  and  Castle  Dangerous  (1831),  with  the  preparation  of 
a  carefully  annotated  edition  of  all  his  novels,  bring  us  to  the 
close  of  his  literary  career.  Towards  the  end  he  was  half  para- 
lysed. It  was  a  magnificent  battle  with  misfortune  and  disease. 
In  September  1831  Scott's  brain  began  to  give  way,  and  he 

was  persuaded  to  take  a  voyage  to   the    Medi- 
.Last  illness  and      terranean    in   a  ship  of  the  navy  placed  at  his 

disposal  by  the  Government.     Before  starting 
he    was   visited    by    Wordsworth,    a   meeting    immortalised  in 
the  latter's  sonnet  commencing  'A   trouble    not    of    clouds    or 
weeping  rain.'     From  his  voyage  and  travels  on  the    Continent 
he    returned    home    on    June    13th,    1832  ;  and  though  almost 
dying,   entreated    to   be   taken    to    Abbotsford,     where     after 
lingering  for  two  months  he  died,  September  21st,  1832.  He  had 
then  discharged  more  than    half    his    debt,    and    on   the    21st 
February,  1833,  the  creditors  were  paid  in   full,   his   publisher, 
Mr.    Cadell,    on   the    security   of   Scott's    copyrights,    making 
himself    responsible    for  the  balance,  which  was  finally  cleared 
off  in  May  1847.     Thus  his  debt  of  honour   was   paid    to    the 
last  farthing.     But  his  life-long  ambition    of   founding   a   new 
branch  of   the    Scott  family  was  tragically  disappointed  by  the 
death  of  his  sons  without  issue,  and  in    1879   only   one    direct 
descendant,  Mary  Monica   Hope-Scott,    his   great-grand-child, 
remained. 

The    foregoing   account   illustrates    better   than    any  mere 

words  the  heroic  strength  and  the  pardonable 
(iiAsTMan!"         weaknesses  of  Scott's  personal  character.  Add 

to  this  his  love  of  pet  animals  and  his 
wonderful  power  of  fascination  over  them,  so  that  even  a 
little  black  pig  would  vainly  struggle  to  follow  him  on  a 
hunting  day,  and  we  shall  form  some  idea  of  the  magic  of 
his  personality.     But  it  was  not  till  after   the    fatal    disaster   of 


340  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

1826    that   he   stood  out  in  all  his  heroic  strength  of  character, 
a  triumphant  Laocoon. 

Of    Scott's    character   as    a  writer  there  are  widely  differing 
opinions.     Some  praise  him    as    second    only 

(2)  As  a  Writer. 

to    Shakespeare    and  Homer ;  others  maintain 
that   he    is  merely  a  story-teller  in  verse,  fascinating  for  school 
boys,  but  not  to  be  taken  seriously  as  a  poet,    except    in    some 
of    his    shorter    pieces,    such    as   Proud  Maisie,  than  which  he 
has    written    no   finer    lyric.       His    literary    defects    tell   more 
seriously  against  his  poems  than    his    novels.     Goldwin    Smith 
says    of   him  :  '  He    had    a    passionate    love  of  the  beauties  of 
Nature,  and  communicated  it  to  his    readers.     He   turned   the 
Highlands    into    a    place    of    universal  pilgrimage.     He  never 
thought   of   lending    a    soul    to    Nature,     like    the   author   of 
Tintern    Abbey.     But    he    could    give    her    life ;    and  he  could 
make  her  sympathetic  with  the  human    drama,   as    in   the    end 
of   the    Convent    Canto    of   Marmion,    and    in  the  opening  of 
Rokeby,     which     rivals    the     opening    of    Hamlet?       Bagehot 
differentiates    Scott's   attitude  to  Nature  from  Shakespeare's  by 
saying  that  '  Scott's  is  the  strong  admiration  of  a  rough    mind  : 
Shakespeare's     the   nice    minuteness    of   a    susceptible     one.' 
Scott's   chief     excellencies    as    a    novel    writer    are — (1)    The 
naturalness  and  variety  of  his  characters  ;   they    are    all    drawn 
from    life.     (2)  The    smooth    working  out  of  his  plots;  history 
and    invention    are    harmoniously    blended.       (3)  The    beauty 
and    correctness    of   his    descriptions,    down    to    the    smallest 
details.      (4)     His    knowledge,    which    is    both    extensive    and 
exact ;    he    is  never  crude  or  one-sided  in  his  attitude  or  in  his 
judgments.     Another   outcome  of  Scott's  genius,  more  especi- 
ally as  shewn  in  his  novels,  is  that  he  has  given  us  a  sympathe- 
tic insight  into  the  primitive   virtues  of  the  Highland  race.   He 
did    much    too   towards    making    the    history    of  the    middle 
ages   a   living   reality.     And   Lang  declares  that  '  his  influence 
on   literature    was    immense.      The    Romantic    movement    in 
France    owed     nearly   as    much    to    him    as    to    Shakespeare. 
Alexandre    Dumas    is  his  literary  fosterchild,  and  his  only  true 
successor.' 


SCOTT.  341 

Of  Scott's  longer  poems  Marmion  is  the  most  artistic  ;  its 
plot  is  complete  and  well  worked  out;  the 
story  is  forcibly  told  ;  and  it  has  throughout 
the  inspiration  of  action  and  changing  scene.  The  hero  is  a 
strange  blending  of  villain  and  warrior  ;  his  career  comes  to 
its  tragic  close  in  the  battle  of  Flodden,  which  is  described 
with  an  almost  Homeric  power.  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel 
has  the  same  background  for  its  story,  the  romantic  Tweedside  ; 
and  its  description  of  Melrose  has  always  captivated  readers  of 
every  class  ;  still  more  the  weird  vision  of  the  wizard  lying  in 
his  opened  tomb.  But  the  legend  of  the  goblin  page,  the 
original  nucleus  of  the  whole  poem,  is  not  well  fitted  into  its 
place  ;  Scott  was  more  at  home  in  the  stirring  life  of  the  Border 
warriors  than  in  any  artistic  presentment  of  the  supernatural. 
The  Lady  of  the  Lake  takes  us  to  another  region ;  the  romantic 
beauty  of  Highland  scenery  and  the  vivid  passions  of  primitive 
life  in  a  Highland  clan  are  brought  into  stronger  relief  by 
contrast  with  the  chivalrous  refinement  of  the  Court  of  James 
V.  Much  of  the  interest  of  the  poem  lies  in  its  local  associa- 
tions ;  so  that  it  is  almost  indispensable  to  the  tourist  visiting 
the  Trossachs  and  Loch  Katrine. 

Of  the  versatility  of  Scott's  genius  perhaps  the  best  proof  is 
the  fact  that  so  few  readers  agree  as  to   which 

Chief  Novels. 

is  the  best  of  all  his  novels.  There  is  hardly 
one  of  them  but  will  find  some  critic  of  ability  to  champion  its 
special  merits.  We  select  here  three  of  the  most  popular  as 
examples  of  Scott's  characteristic  merits. 

The  story  of  the  Heart  of  Midlothian    (i.  e.  Edinburgh)  is 

centred  in  the  Porteous  riots,  with  the  burning 

The  heart  of  0f  the  Tolbooth  Prison  and  the  rescue    of   the 

Midlothian. 

prisoners  confined  in  it.  The  main  interest 
lies  in  the  contrast  between  the  characters  of  Jesnie  Deans,  of 
her  shrewd  Covenanting  father,  and  of  the  unhappy  sister  to 
redeem  whose  forfeited  life  Jeanie  undertakes  her  adventurous 
journey  to  London,  and  with  the  Duke  of  Argyle's  help  in- 
tercedes successfully  with  the  Queen. 


342  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

In  Old  Mortality  Scott  has  drawn    a   vivid    portrait    of  the 
dour  fanatical  Covenanter.  Balfour  of  Burleigh, 

Old  Mortality.  .  ,  .  .      _, ,  . 

and  a  rather  fancy  portrait  of  Ciaverhouse  ; 
and  has  clothed  the  fierce  religious  animosities  of  that  time 
with  living  flesh  and  blood.  Mause  Headrigg,  with  her  zeal 
for  martyrdom  and  her  motherly  care  for  her  more  worldly- 
minded  son,  is  an  inimitably  humorous  sketch.  In  this,  as  in 
most  of  Scott's  historical  novels,  he  has  employed  the  artistic 
device  of  a  somewhat  colourless  hero  (Morton)  as  a  neutral 
background  on  which  to  display  his  own  personal  conscious- 
ness that  '  much  might  be  said  on  both  sides.'  All  Scott's  own 
instincts  were  with  Ciaverhouse ;  but  his  reason  and  his  ethical 
sense  made  him  approve  of  Morton's  judicious  sympathy  with 
the  Covenanting  cause. 

The  story  of  Ivanhoe  is  fixed  in  the  period  of  internal  con- 
fusion and  lawlessness  which  prevailed 
through  John's  usurpation  during  the  absence 
of  Richard  I  in  Palestine.  Here  Scott  has  cut  himself  adrift 
from  the  source  of  his  special  power,  his  inborn  familiarity 
with  Scotch  character  and  scenery.  Here  for  the  first  time  he 
places  his  genius  amidst  English  surroundings  and  in  the 
atmosphere  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  strong  contrasts  between 
Norman  and  Saxon,  both  in  politics  and  in  character;  the 
romantic,  half-mythical  figures  of  Robin  Hood  and  his  followers, 
and  the  tragic  interest  centering  in  the  Jewish  maiden  Rebecca — 
these  with  their  background  of  mediaeval  knightly  adventures 
and  ceremonial  have  made  this  novel  one  of  the  most  popular, 
at  any  rate  with  younger  readers. 


QUOTATIONS. 

Just  at  the  age,  'twixt  boy  and  youth, 
When  thought  is  speech  and  speech  is  truth. 

Afarmton,  Canto  II,  Introduction. 
When,  musing  on  companions  gone, 
We  doubly  feel  ourselves  alone.     lb. 


SCOTT. 


343 


In  the  lost  battle, 
Borne  down  by  the  flying, 

Where  mingles  War's  Tattle, 
With  groans  of  the  dying.     lb.  Canto  III,  St.  u. 
O  what  a  tangled  web  we  weave, 

When  first  we  practise  to  deceive  !  lb.  Canto  VI,  St.  ij. 
O  woman,  in  our  hours  of  ease 
Uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to  please, 
And  variable  as  the  shade 
By  the  light  quivering  aspen  made, 
When  pain  and  anguish  wring  the  brow, 
A  ministering  angel  thou  !  lb.  Canto  VI,  St.  jo. 
Charge  Chester,  charge  !  On  Stanley,  on  ! 
Were  the  last  words  of  Marmion.     lb.  Canto  VI,  St.  32. 
E'en  the  slight  hare-bell  raised  its  head, 

Elastic  from  her  airy  tread.     Lady  of  the  Lake,  Canto  I,  St.  18. 
Yet  seemed  that  tone  and  gesture  bland 
Less  used  to  sue  than  to  command.     lb.  Canto  I,  St.  21. 
Come  one,  come  all  !  this  rock  shall  fly 
From  its  firm  base  as  soon  as  I.     lb.  Canto  V,  St.  10. 
And  the  stern  joy  which  warriors  feel 

In  foemen  worthy  of  their  steel.     lb. 
They  carved  at  the  meal 
With  gloves  of  steel, 

And  they  drank  the  red  wine  through  the  helmet  barred. 

Last  Minstrel,  Canto  I,  St.  4. 

If  thou  would'st  view  fair  Melrose  aright, 

Go  visit  it  by  the  pale  moonlight.     lb.  Canto  II,  St.  1. 

Breathes  there  the  man  with  soul  so  dead, 

Who  never  to  himself  hath  said 

This  is  my  own,  my  native  land  ! 

Whose  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him  burned, 

As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turned 

From  wandering  on  a  foreign  strand  ! 

If  such  there  breathe,  go,  mark  him  well  ; 

For  him  no  minstrel  raptures  swell  ; 

High  though  his  titles,  proud  his  name, 

Boundless  his  wealth  as  wish  can  claim  : 
Despite  those  titles,  power,  and  pelf, 
The  wretch,  concentred  all  in  self, 


344  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Living,  shall  forfeit  fair  renown, 

And,  doubly  dying,  shall  go  down 

To  the  vile  dust  from  whence  he  sprung, 

Unwept  unhonoured  and  unsung.     lb.  Canto  VI,  St.  i. 

O  Caledonia,  stern  and  wild, 

Meet  nurse  for  a  poetic  child  ! 

Land  of  brown  heath  and  shaggy  wood, 

Land  of  the  mountain  and  the  flood, 

Land  of  my  sires  !  lb.  St.  2. 

'Pro-di-gious  !'  exclaimed  Dominie  Sampson. 

Guy  Ma?meri?7g,  Ch  :  XIV. 
Among  the  sea  of  upturned  faces.     Rob  Roy,  Ch  :  20. 
My  foot  is  on  my  native  heath,  and  my  name  is  MacGregor. 

lb.  Ch  :  24.. 
Sound,  sound  the  clarion,  fill  the  fife  ! 
To  all  the  sensual  world  proclaim, 
One  crowded  hour  of  glorious  life 
Is  worth  an  age  without  a  name.     Old  Mortality,  Ch:  34. 


COLERIDGE  (1772-1834). 

Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  a  unique    combination    of    poet, 
critic,  and  philosopher,  was  born  at  Ottery  St. 

Birthtage. Pare"'  Mai7>  Devonshire,  October  21,  i772-  His 
father  was  a  clergyman,  the  vicar  of  the 
parish  and  master  of  the  grammar  school  ;  a  learned  man  and 
a  Hebrew  scholar.  His  second  wife  was  Anne  Bowdon,  by 
whom  he  had  ten  children,  the  youngest  of  which  was  the  poet. 
The  poet's  father  died  in  1779,  and  his  mother  in  1781. 

In  1782  he  entered  Christ's  Hospital,  London,  where  Lamb 
was  one  of  his    companions.     Coleridge    took 

Education.  \ 

very  kindly  to  the  classics  and  read  Homer 
and  Virgil  for  his  own  pleasure.  His  chief  amusements  seem 
to  have  been  talking  Platonic  philosophy,  day  dreaming,  and 
bathing.  He  used  to  plunge  into  the  New  River  with  his 
clothes  on.  and  after  a  good  swim  resume  his  games  and  let 
his  clothes  dry  on  his  back ;  thus  contracting  a  life  long 
liability  to  rheumatic  pains.  After  remaining  at  Christ's 
Hospital  for  eight  years  and  becoming  head  of  the  school,  he 
entered  Jesus  College,  Cambridge,  in  October  1791,  where  he 
showed  marked  ability  in  classics.  But  he  became  involved  in 
debt,  fled  to  London,  and  entered  in  the  15th  Dragoons  under 
the  name  of  Silas  Tomkyns  Comberback  (S.  T.  C.)  His 
identity,  however,  was  discovered,  his  friends  bought  him  out, 
and  he  returned  to  Cambridge,  which  he  left  without  a  degree. 
In  1794  Coleridge  made  the  acquaintance  of  Southey  and 
of    a   friend   of    his,     Robert    Lovell.     These 

The  Pantisocracy. 

three  were  all  ardent  partisans  of  the  French 
Revolution,  and  bent  upon  radically  reconstructing  society. 
They  married  three  sisters,  the  Miss  Frickers,  and  decided  to 
found  an  ideal  Commonwealth,  a  Pantisocracy  ('all-equal 
government'),  on  the  banks  of  the  Susquehanna,  in  America— 
a  scheme  which  of  course  fell  through.  Coleridge  took  to 
journalism  and  lecturing.     In  September  1796,  his  son  Hartley 


346 


A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 


was  bom,  who  afterwards  became  a  poet  of  considerable  ability, 
but  more  wayward  and  unsuccessful  than  his  father. 

Celeridge  was  much  indebted  to  the   liberality  of   a   friend, 
Mr.  Thomas  Poole,  to  be  near  whom  he  went 

Meets  the  Words-  ,.  XT     , 

worths.  to  live  in  a  cottage  at  Nether  Stowey,    Somer- 

set. Here  he  became  acquainted  with  Words- 
worth and  his  sister  Dorothy,  who  in  1797  removed  to  Alfoxden 
for  the  sake  of  being  near  him.  The  friends  planned  an  excursion 
to  Lynton  that  autumn,  and  Coleridge  with  some  help  from 
Wordsworth  wrote  The  A ncient  Mariner  to  pay  the  expenses 
of  their  trip.  This  poem  was  published  in  1798  in  the  Lyrical 
Ballads  (p.  312),  a  joint  production,  to  which  however  Words- 
worth was  the  chief  contributor. 

About  this  time  the  brothers  Wedgwood  settled  an    annuity 
Wanderings  in         °^  £l  5°  on  Coleridge  to  enable  him  to  devote 
Enabaroadnd  ^'s  ''^e  to  P0etl7  an(^  philosophy.    According- 

ly in  1798  Coleridge  went  with  the  Words- 
worths  to  Germany  to  study  Kant,  and  attended  lectures  at 
Gottingen,  returning  to  England  in  June  1799.  Towards 
winter  he  left  Stowey  for  London,  where  he  made  his  great 
translation  of  Schiller's  Wallenslein  and  did  some  irregular 
journalistic  work.  In  July  1800  he  removed  to  Greta  Hall, 
Keswick,  where  Southey  joined  him  in  1803.  Here  Coleridge 
wrote  the  second  part  of  Chrisiabel,  which  he  had  begun  at 
Stowey.  Here  too  he  formed  the  opium-eating  habit,  which 
was  thenceforward  the  bane  of  his  life,  making  him  hopelessly 
incapable  of  serious,  sustained  exertion.  In  1806  he  went  to 
Bristol,  where  he  met  De  Quincey  and  attracted  his  ardent 
friendship.  From  1809  to  1810  he  lived  with  the  Words- 
worths  at  Grasmere,  and  started  a  short-lived  periodical, 
The  Friend.  Thence  he  went  to  London,  did  some  more 
irregular  journalism,  and  gave  the  lectures  on  Shakespeare 
which  inaugurated  a  new  era  in  Shakespearean  criticism.  One 
of  the  Wedgwoods  had  died,  and  the  other  in  i8ti  stopped 
Coleridge's  pension,  being  dissatisfied  with  the  work  done  for 
it.  In  1 8 1 3  through  Byron's  influence  Coleridge's  tragedy  of 
Remorse  was  brought  out  at  Drury  Lane  theatre.     In  1816   he 


COLERIDGE. 


347 


iinally  settled  in  the  home  of  Mr.  Gillman,  a  medical  man  at 
Highgate,  who  did  his  best  to  cure  his  patient  of  the  opium 
habit,  but  with  only  partial  success.  It  was  here  that  Carlyle 
saw  hum,  and  describes  him  'with  the  look  of  confused  pain 
looking  mildly  from  his  deep  eyes.'  Coleridge  remained  with 
the  Gillmans  till  his  death  ;  and  the  house  at  Highgate  became 
a  kind  of  shrine  where  literary  enthusiasts  went  to  hear  the 
oracle  talk. 

In  1816  Christabel  was  published,  along  with    Kubla  Khan 
a   weird    poem     which,    in     1797,     came   to 

Later  work  ;  r  ,  .    .  „rf~. 

Death.  Coleridge    in    a   sort   of   trance   vision,    atter 

taking  an  opiate  ;  and  its  companion  poem,  The  Pains 
of  Sleep.  In  1817  he  brought  out  a  collection  of  his 
poems,  entitled  Sibylline  Leaves,  and  a  critical  prose  work, 
Biographia  Literaria,  in  which  among  other  things  he  fully 
discusses  Wordsworth's  recently  published  theories  of  poetry 
and  'poetic  diction.'  In  1825  he  published  his  Aids  to 
Reflection,  and  in  1830  the  Constitution  of  Church  and  State. 
His  Lectures  on  Shakespeare,  with  his  Table  Talk  and  a  few 
other  works,  did  not  appear  till  1849,  after  his  death.  In  1828 
he  visited  the  Rhine  with  the  Wordsworths.  He  died  July  25, 
1834,  and  was  buried  in  the  old  churchyard  at  Highgate.  His 
neglected  wife,  his  two  sons  Hartley  and  Derwent,  and  his 
daughter  Sara,  who  for  the  previous  thirty  years  had  all  been 
supported  and  cared  for  by  Southey,  survived  him. 

Of  Coleridge's  personal  character    it  has  been  well  said  that 
his  epitaph  might  have  been  'Unstable  as  water 

H(\)  AhsaIaman.  tnou  snalt  not  exce1-'  Full  of  reforming  zeal 
in  his  youth,  he  never  tried  to  reform  himself, 
and  such  commonplace  moralities  as  the  payment  of  debts,  the 
fulfilment  of  social  or  business  obligations,  and  care  for 
wife  and  children,  seem  to  have  been  quietly  ignored  by  him. 
Much  of  this  was  no  doubt  due  to  defective  early  training,  to 
his  forlorn  boyhood,  and  above  all  to  chronic  ill-health.  He 
was  aware  of  his  own  deficiencies.  Of  a  too  faithful  portrait 
painted  by  Alston  he  acknowledged  that  the  face  was  feeble 
and  unmanly,  and  that  its  'weakness  and  strength-lessness'  were 


348  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

painful  to  him.  He  declares  solemnly  that  'this  (the  opium- 
habit),  the  curse  and  slavery  of  my  life,  did  not  commence  in 
any  low  craving  for  sensation,  in  any  desire  or  wish  to  stimulate 
or  exhilarate  myself,  but  wholly  in  rashness,  delusion,  and 
presumptuous  quackery,  and  afterwards  in  pure  terror.  His 
neglect  of  his  family  was  chiefly  due  to  a  want  of  sympathy  ; 
he  was  too  weak  to  meet  the  difficulty,  and  simply  fled  from  it. 
The  same  want  of  steadfast  purpose  was  the  bane  of 
,„   .  ..  Coleridge's    literary   work,    whether    in  poetry 

(2)  As  a  writer.  °  J  r  j 

or  in  prose.  '  There  is  no  lesson,'  writes 
Brooke,  '  so  solemn  in  the  whole  range  of  modern  poetry  as  that 
given  by  Coleridge's  poetry — genius  without  will — religion 
without  strength — hope  without  perseverance — art  without 
the  power  of  finish.'  His  poetry,  at  its  best,  as  in 
Christabel  and  The  A?icienl  Mariner ,  is  essentially  an  opium 
dream.  But  his  actual  use  of  opium  did  but  reinforce  the 
natural  languor  of  his  whole  imaginative  being.  Professor 
Raleigh  calls  him  '  a  genius  fluctuant  and  moon-struck  as  the 
sea.'  His  business  was  to  surround  supernatural  persons  and 
characters  with  '  a  human  interest  and  a  semblance  of  truth 
sufficient  to  procure  for  these  shadows  of  the  imagination  that 
willing  suspension  of  disbelief  for  the  moment  which  constitutes 
poetic  faith.'  His  poetic  gifts  blossomed  most  luxuriandy 
when  he  was  strung  up  to  work  by  the  sympathetic  influence  of 
a  stronger  soul.  All  his  best  work  was  done  when  he  was 
under  the  influence  of  William  and  Dorothy  Wordsworth's 
companionship.  A.  Symons  remarks  upon  Coleridge's  great 
sensitiveness  to  colour  and  to  sound,  'Rosetti  called  Coleridge 
the  Turner  of  poets,  and  indeed  there  is  in  Coleridge  an  aerial 
glitter  which  we  find  in  no  other  poet,  and  only  in  Turner 
among  painters.  With  him  colour  is  always  melted  in  atmos- 
phere, which  it  shines  through  like  fire  in  a  crystal.  It  is  liquid 
colour,  the  dew  on  flowers  or  a  mist  of  rain  in  bright  sunshine. 
His  images  are  for  the  most  part  derived  from  water,  sky,  the 
changes  of  the  weather,  shadows  of  things  rather  than  things 
themselves.'  The  navigator  Shelvocke,  who  tells  us  that 
his    lieutenant,    being  a    melancholy    man,    was  possessed  by 


COLERIDGE.  349 

a  fancy  that  some  long  season  of  foul  weather,  in    the    solitary- 
sea      which    they    were    then     traversing,     was    due     to    an 
albatross  which  had  steadily    pursued  the    ship  ;    upon    which 
he     shot    the     bird,     but    without     mending  their    condition. 
The    poem  is  written  in  seven  parts ;    and    the  whole    piece    is 
accompanied   by    a    quaint    prose    commentary  which  has  the 
effect  of  a  carved  oak  frame    on   a    stately    picture.     The    tale 
is  told  by  an  aged    seaman    who  wanders    through    the  world, 
and    from    time    to    time    meets  some  one  to    whom    he  must 
tell    it ;    some    one    who    will    be    so  fascinated  by  his  look  as 
to  listen  against  his  will,  as  is  the  case  with  one  of  three  guests 
just    about    to    enter   for  a  wedding  feast.     In  a  voyage  among 
the  Antarctic  icebergs  a  friendly  albatross    had    come    to    their 
ship    and    had  been  petted  by  the  sailors;  in  mere  wantonness 
the  Mariner  slew  it.     His  shipmates  at  first  blamed  him,  but  as 
the  weather  became  finer,  they  changed  their  minds  and  praised 
him    for    killing    '  the   bird  that  brought  the  fog  and  the  mist.' 
They  are  all  punished  :  fixed  motionless  in  a  stagnant    tropical 
calm,   where    one  by  one  his  shipmates  die  and  he  is  left  alone 
in  dumb,  prayerless  despair.     But  one  night  as  he  watched   the 
strange    creatures    of    the    deep,    he  blessed  them  in  his  heart. 
That  instant  he  could  pray;     he    slept    peacefully;    and    after 
many    ghastly    adventures    the  ship    is  brought  back  by  super- 
natural agency ;  and  he  seeks  and  finds  absolution  for    murder- 
ing the  albatross  from  the  'hermit  in  the  wood.'     S.  Brooke  re- 
marks upon  the  poem's  wide  range,   which    'extends    from    the 
quiet    scenery    of    a    country    wood  to  the  fierce  scenery  of  the 
tropics,    and    to    that  of  the  polar  zone.'     At  least  half  a  dozen 
aspects  of  the  sea  are  sketched  with  perfect  pictorial    skill    and 
truth  :    a    stormy    sea   with  the  ship  scudding  before  the  wind  ; 
the  iceberg-covered  sea ;  the  sea  covered  by  a  great    snow-fog  ; 
the    belt  of  calms  with  its  dreadful  rolling  swell  ;  the  sea  in  the 
tornado  ;  and  the  gentle  weather  of  the  temperate  seas.   Symons 
calls    this  poem  'the  most  sustained  piece  of  imagination  in  the 
whole  of  English  poetry.     It  is  full  of  simple,    daily    emotion, 
transported,    by  an  awful  power  of  sight,  to  which  the  limits  of 
reality  are  no  barrier,  into  an  unknown  sea  and  air,. ..it  presents 


350  A   HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

to  us  the  utmost  physical  and  spiritual  horror,  not  only  withou: 
disgust,  but  with  an  alluring  beauty.' 

Christabel  is  a  weird  poem  of  witchcraft.  The  lovely  lady 
Christabel  meets  with  a  forlorn  maiden,  Geral- 
dine,  who  has  been  dragged  from  home  by 
caitiff  knights  and  left  in  a  swoon  beside  the  tree  where  Christ- 
abel finds  her.  Christabel  takes  her  home,  and  when  Geraldine 
is  undressing  she  half  reveals  herself  as  a  being  of  diabolical 
nature ;  but  the  vision  is  forgotten  in  sleep,  and  next  day  when 
Geraldine  is  presented  to  Sir  Leoline,  Christabel's  father,  he 
imagines  her  the  daughter  of  his  long-since  alienated  friend 
Roland  de  Vaux ;  and  commands  Bracy,  the  bard,  to  go  with 
harp  and  song  and  tell  him  of  his  daughter's  safety  and  of  Sir 
Leoline's  wish  for  reconciliation.  Everyone  who  comes  near 
Geraldine  is  in  turn  affected  in  some  mysterious  way  by  her 
hidden,  serpent-like  nature,  and  the  second  part  closes  abruptly, 
leaving  Sir  Leoline  raging  at  his  daughter  for  her  unconcealed 
dislike  of  the  beautiful  stranger.  The  poem  was  never  finished  ; 
Part  I  was  written  at  Stowey  in  1797,  Part  II  at  Keswick  in 
1800.  Of  Christabel  Symons  says  :  'I  know  no  other  verse  in 
which  the  effects  of  music  are  so  precisely  copied  in  metre. 
Shelley,  you  feel,  sings  like  a  bird  ;  Blake,  like  a  child  or  an 
angel ;  but  Coleridge  certainly  writes  music' 

Coleridge's  prose  works  are  just  as  unmethodical  as  his 
poetry.  He  had  a  lifelong  dream  of  construct- 
ing a  philosophy  which  should  explain  Man 
and  Nature  in  their  related  totality.  But  he  drifted  about  from 
one  philosophical  system  and  theological  belief  to  another;  he 
remained  'thought-bewildered'  to  the  end  ;  and  for  the  last  few 
years  of  his  life  all  these  aspirations  evaporated  in  endless  talk 
to  his  admiring  disciples. 

QUOTATIONS. 

We  were  the  first  that  ever  burst 

Into  that  silent  sea.     Ancient  Mariner,  Part  II. 

As  idle  as  a  painted  ship 

Upon  a  painted  ocean.     lb. 


COLERIDGE.  351 

Water,  water,  everywhere, 

Nor  any  drop  to  drink.     lb. 

Alone,  alone,  all,  all  alone, 

Alone  on  a  wide  wide  sea.     lb.   Part  IV. 

O  sleep,  it  is  a  gentle  thing, 

Beloved  from  pole  to  pole.     lb.  Part  V. 

So  lonely  'twas,  that  God  himself 

Scarce  seemed  there  to  be.     lb.  Part  VII. 

He  prayeth  well,  who  loveth  well 

Both  man  ?.nd  bird  and  beast.     lb. 

He  prayeth  best,  who  loveth  best 

All  things,  both  great  and  small.      lb. 

A  sadder  and  a  wiser  man 

He  rose  the  morrow  morn.     lb. 

Carved  with  figures  strange  and  sweet, 

All  made  out  of  the  carver's  brain.     Christabel,  Part  I. 

Her  gentle  limbs  did  she  undress, 

And  lay  down  in  her  loveliness.     lb. 

A  sight  to  dream  of,  not  to  tell  !     lb. 

To  be  wroth  with  one  we  love, 

Doth  work  like  madness  in  the  brain.     lb.   Part  II. 

They  stood  aloof,  the  scars  remaining, 

Like  cliffs  which  had  been  rent  asunder  ; 

A  dreary  sea  now  flows  between.     lb. 

The  owlet  Atheism, 
Sailing  on  obscene  wings  athwart  the  moon, 
And  hoot'in,'  at  the  glorious  Sun  in  Heaven, 
Cries  out,  'Where  is  it  ?'  Tears  in  Solitude. 

And  the  Devil  did  grin,  for  his  darling  sin 

Is  pride  that  apes  humility.     The  DeviPs  Thoughts. 

Strongly  it  bears  us  along  in  swelling  and  limitless  billows, 
Nothing  before  and  nothing  behind  but  the  sky  and  the  ocean. 

The  Homeric  Hexameter. 

In  the  hexameter  rises  the  fountain's  silvery  column  ; 
In  the  penT.meter  aye  falling  in  melody  back. 

The  Elegiac  Metre. 

Motionless  torrents,  silent  cataracts. 

Hymn  in  the  Vale  of  Chamonix. 


352  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

A  mother  is  a  mother  still, 
The  holiest  thing  alive.     Three  Graves. 
The  Knight's  bones  are  dust, 
And  his  good  sword  rust  ; 

His  soul  is  with  the  saints,  I  trust.     Knights  Tomb. 
For  he  on  honey-dew  hath  fed, 
And  drunk  the  milk  of  Paradise.     Kubla  Khan. 
Ere  sin  could  blight  or  sorrow  fade, 
Death  came  with  friendly  care  ; 
The  opening  bud  to  Heaven  conveyed, 
And  bade  it  blossom  there.     Epitaph  on  an  Infant. 
I  counted  two-and-seventy  stenches, 
All  well  defined  and  several  stinks.     Cologne. 
Flowers  are  lovely  ;  Love  is  flower-like, 
Friendship  is  a  sheltering  tree  ; 
O  the  joys,  that  come  down  shower-like, 
Of  Friendship,  Love,  and  Liberty. 
Ere  I  was  old.      Youth  and  Age. 
Clothing  the  palpable  and  familiar 
With  golden  exhalations  of  the  dawn. 

The  Death  of  IVallenstein,  I.  i. 

Often  do  the  spirits 
Of  great  events  stride  on  before  the  events, 
And  in  to-day  already  walks  to-morrow.     lb.  V.  i. 
Our  myriad-minded  Shakespeare. 

Biographia  Literaria,  Ch.  XV. 

Prose  =  words  in  their    best    order  ;  Poetry  =  the   best   words   in 
the  best  order.      Table  Talk. 


SOUTHEY   (1774—1843). 

Robert  Southey,  the  most  industrious  of  English  poets   and 

prose-writers,  was  born  at  Bristol",    August  12, 

Birth  and  early        1774.     His  father  was  an    unsuccessful   linen- 

surroundmgs.  *  /  /  f 

draper  ;  his  mother  a  bright,  cheerful  woman, 
who  came  of  a  good  yeoman  stock.  Much  of  his  childhood 
was  spent  with  her  half-sister  Miss  Tyler,  a  wealthy  old  maid, 
who  familiarised  him  with  Shakespeare  and  his  fellow  drama- 
tists as  well  as  with  the  Faery  Queen,  Pope's  Homer,  and 
Sidney's  Arcadia. 

In    1788,  he    was  sent  to  Westminster  School,  where  from 

reading:  Picart's  Religious  Ceremonies,  he  con- 
Education.  .        .  ,  ,  .  1         f     1  1  J! 

ceived  the  idea  of  turning  each  of  the  world  s 
mythologies  into  a  narrative  poem.  This  idea  he  subsequently 
carried  out  in  Thalaba,  the  Destroyer  (1 801),  for  the  Maho- 
metan religion  ;  and  in  The  Curse  of  Kehama  1810),  for  the 
Hindu.  In  1793  he  went  to  Balliol  College,  Oxford,  and  left 
it  in  1794  to  join  his  friends  Lovell  and  Coleridge  in  their 
Utopian  Pantisocracy  (p.  345)- 

His  aunt  now  shut  her  doors  upon  him  ;  and  an  uncle  who 

was  chaplain  to  the  British  factory    at   Lisbon 

settlement  at         hoped  to  wean  him  from  his  imprudent  attach- 

Kesw.ck.  ment  tQ  Migs  Edjth  Fucker  by  taking  him  for 

six  months  to  Spain.  Southey  apparently  yielded,  but  married 
his  Edith  secretly  before  they  started.  In  Spain  he  acquired  the 
knowledge  which  he  afterwards  turned  to  good  account  in  his 
Letters  written  in  Spain  and  Portugal  (1797),  and  his  History 
of  the  Peninsular  fFar  (1823).  In  May  1796  he  returned  to 
England  ;  tried  reading  law  ;  took  a  secretaryship  in  Ireland  ; 
returned  to  Lisbon;  and  finally  settled,  in  September  1803,  at 
Greta  Hall,  Keswick,  where  his  brother-in-law  Coleridge  and 
his  wife  were  established. 

23 


354  A   HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Southey  was  enabled  to  devote  himself  to  a  literary  career 
Pension  :  chief  by  an  allowance,  made  him  by  a  friend,  of 
£  160  a  year  from  1796  to  1807,  wr>en  he  re- 
ceived an  equivalent  government  pension.  Thenceforward  his 
life  is  little  more  than  a  record  of  his  successive  publications  ;  of 
which  in  addition  to  the  two  already  mentioned,  the  most 
important  were  :  Fall  of  Robespierre  (1794)  ;  Joan  of  Arc 
(1  "95)  ;  Marloc  (1805),  the  story  of  a  semi-historical  pioneer  of 
militant  Christianity  in  Britain  (this  poem  was  a  great  favourite 
with  Scott)  ;  Roderick,  Ihe  Last  of  the  Goths  (1814),  a  subject 
chosen  also  by  Landor  (see  p.  367);  History  of  Brazil  (18 10-19); 
Life  of  Nelson  (1813)  ;  Life  of  Wesley  1820)  ;  Life  of  Bunyan 
(1830)  ;  a  Vision  of  Judgment  (182 1 ) ;  The  Book  of  the 
Church  (1824)  ;  Colloquies  on  Society  1S29)  ;  Naval  History 
(1S33-40);  and  a  curious  miscellany  entitled  The  Doctor 
{1834-47),  from  which  comes  that  nursery  favourite  the  Three 
Bears.  He  also  wrote  largely  for  the  periodicals,  especially 
.The  Quarterly  Review. 

In  1813  he  was  appointed  Poet  Laureate  ;  and  in  1820 
Poet  Laureate  ;       received  the  honorary  degree  of  D.  C.  L.  from 

death.  Oxford.     In  1835  Peel  offered  him  a  baronetcy, 

which  he  declined,  but  accepted  an  addition  of  ^"300  a  year  to 
his  pension.  Two  years  later  his  wife  died,  and  in  1839  he 
married  the  poetess,  Caroline  Bowles,  who  had  long  been  his 
intimate  friend  and  correspondent.  In  1840  his  mental 
faculties  gradually  gave  way,  and  on  March  21,  1843  he 
died.     He  was  buried  in  Crosthwaite  Churchyard. 

Southey's  personal  character  has  always  been  held  in  the 
His  character  .i)  highest  admiration.  He  was  exemplary  in  his 
domestic  relations ;  there  was  something 
heroic  in  his  patient  acceptance  of  the  burdens  laid  upon  him 
by  Lovell's  early  death  and  by  Coleridge's  hopeless  incapacity. 
He  was  perhaps  somewhat  too  much  wrapped  up  in  books  and 
writing.  Rogers  called  him  'a  cold  man,'  and  Coleridge,  who 
held  him  in  the  highest  esteem,  once  said  T  can't  think  of 
Southey  without  seeing  him  either  using  or  mending  a  pen.' 


SOUTHEY.  355 

As  a  poet  he  is  now  admitted  to  be  only  second-rate.     His 
,„,  .  .x  most    valuable    poems   are  his  short  ones,    of 

(2)  As  a  writer.  r 

which  the  best  are  After  Blenheim,  with  its 
exquisitely  humorous  sarcasm  veiled  under  a  childlike  simpli- 
city, and  The  Scholar,  with  its  'pungent  homeliness.'  His 
prose  is  of  high  excellence,  though  even  in  prose  he  wrote  too 
much  ;  his  Life  of  Nelson  being  almost  the  only  book  of  his 
that  has  established  itself  as  a  recognised  classic.  Macaulay 
has  described  this  biography,  so  simple  and  easy  in  its  style 
and  so  interesting  in  its  presentment  of  incidents  and  character, 
as  being  '  beyond  all  doubt  the  most  perfect  of  his  works.' 
Symons  calls  it  'a  marvel  of  clear,  interesting,  absorbing  nar- 
rative. We  remember  it,  not  for  any  page  or  passages,  but  as 
a  whole,  for  its  evenness,  proportion,  and  easy  mastery  of  its 
subject.' 

QUOTATIONS. 
No  bond 
In  closer  union  knits  two  human  hearts 
Than  fellowship  in  grief.     Joan  of  Arc,  Bk.  I. 

The  determined  foe 
Fought  for  revenge,  not  hoping  victory.     lb.     Bk.  II. 

The  grave 
Is  but  the  threshold  of  Eternity.      Vision   of  the   Maid  of  Or- 
leans, Bk.  II. 

The  vanquished  have  no  friends.     lb.  Bk.  III. 
You  are  old,  Father  William,  the  young  man  cried, 

And  pleasures  with  youth  pass  away  ; 
And  yet  you  lament  not  the  days  that  are  gone, 

Now  tell  me  the  reason,  I  pray.      The  Old  Man's  Comforts. 
In  the  days  of  my  youth  I  remembered  my  God, 

And  He  hath  not  forgotten  my  age.     lb. 
My  days  among  the  dead  are  past  ; 

Around  me  I  behold, 
Where'er  these  casual  eyes  are  cast, 

The  mighty  minds  of  old  ; 
My  never-failing  friends  are  they, 
With  whom  I  converse  day  by  day.     The  Scholar. 


356  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

And  so  never  ending,  but  always  descending, 

Sounds  and  motions  for  ever  and  ever  are  blending. 

Cataract  of  Lodore. 

As  he  passed  through  Cold  Bath  Fields  he  looked 
At  a  solitary  cell  ; 

And  he  was  well-pleased,  for  it  gave  him  a  hint 

For  improving  the  prisons  of  Hell.      The  Devil's    Walk. 

But  things  like  that,  you  know  must  be 

At  every  famous  victory.     After  Blenheim,  St.  8. 

'But  what  good  came  of  it  at  last  ?' 
Quoth  little  Peterkin. 

'Why  that  I  cannot  tell,'  said  he, 

'But 'twas  a  famous  victory.'      lb.  St.  II. 

To  prove  by  reason,  in  reason's  despite, 

That  right  is  wrong  and  wrong  is  right, 

And  white  is  black  and  black  is  white.     All  for  Love,  Part  9. 

They  sin  who  tell  us  Love  can   die  : 

With  life  all  other  passions  fly, 

All  others  are  but  vanity.     Curse  of  Kehama,  X 10. 

Thou  hast  been  called,  O  sleep  !  the  friend  of  woe  ; 

But 'tis  the  happy  that  have  called  thee  so.     Lb.     XV,    11. 

The  School  which  they  have  set  up  may  properly  be   called  the 

Satanic  School.      A  Vision  offudgment,  Preface  Part  3. 

The  most  triumphant  death  is  that  of  the  martyr  ;  the  most 
awful  that  of  the  martyred  patriot  ;  the  most  splendid  that  of  the 
hero  in  the  hour  of  victory  :  and  if  the  chariot  and  the  horses 
of  fire  had  been  vouchsafed  for  Nelson's  translation,  he  could 
scarcely  have  departed  in  a  brighter  blaze  of  glory.  Life  of 
Nelson  ad  fin. 


JANE  AUSTEN  (1775-1817). 

Jane    Austen,    in   her    own    limited    field  easily  the  first  of 

woman  novelists,  was  born  December  16,  1775, 

Parentage  at  Steventon  in   Hampshire.     Her  father   was 

rector   of  the  parish  ;  and  there  she  spent  the 

first  twenty-five  years  of  her    life.     Jane   was   the   youngest    of 

seven    children,  of  whom  only  two  were  daughters.     Her  elder 

sister  Cassandra  was  her  devoted  and  lifelong  companion. 

Her   father    supplemented    his   income    by    taking  pupils. 

He   gave    her   what  for  a  woman  of  that  time 

Education.  wag   an    unusuanv   good   education  :  she  was 

taught  French  and  Italian ;  could  sing  wel  1,  and  was  specially 
skilful  with  her  needle.  Above  all  she  was  well-read  in  stan- 
dard English  authors,  especially  Richardson,  Johnson,  Cowper, 
and  Crabbe  ;  and  later  on,  Scott.  Fielding  is  not  mentioned 
by  her  biographers,  but  internal  evidence,  especially  in  such 
passages  as  the  second  chapter  of  Sense  and  Sensibility,  renders 
it  probable  that  she  not  only  read  him,  but  had  been  much  influ- 
enced by  his  style.  The  best  part  of  her  education  was  what 
she  gave  herself  by  her  keen  sympathetic  insight  into  the 
social  life  around  her  in  the  miniature  world  of  a  small  country 
village.  She  is  said  to  have  had  one  disappointment  in  love; 
but  no  trace  of  any  such  experience  is  to  be  found  in  her 
novels.  One  other  accomplishment  she  had  which  must  have 
helped  to  foster  her  genius  ;  she  was  greatly  in  request  as  an 
improviser  of  stories  for  children. 

From    a   very    early   age  Jane  Austen  began  to  write  tales. 

Her  earliest  were  mere    sketches  ;    later    they 

steventon  novels.      were   buriesques    on   the    s\\\y  romances  then 

in  vogue,  of  which  phase  in  her  development  there  are  some 
traces  in  Nor /hanger  Abbey.  Towards  1792  she  began  a  story, 
in  Richardson's  epistolary  form,  which  she  subsequently 
rewrote   as  Sense   and   Sensibility    (18 11).     Between   October 


358  A   HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

1796  and  August  1797,  she  had  finished  her  masterpiece, 
Pride  and  Prejudice  (181 3).  originally  entitled  First  Impress- 
ions. Northanoer  Abby  (1818)  was  finished  in  1798,  and 
was  bought  by  a  Bath  publisher  for  ^"10 ;  he  was  however 
afraid  to  risk  money  by  publishing  it,  and  it  was  not  brought 
out  till  after  her  death. 

In    1 801    the   family    went   to  reside  in  Bath,  the  scene  of 
many   episodes   in    her   writings.     After     the 

Chawton  novels.  ^^    Qf    hgr  father  jn  lgo_  they  remove(j  for 

a  time  to  Southampton  and  finally  settled  at  Chawton,  a  village 
in  Hampshire.  Here  she  wrote  three  more  novels,  Mansfield 
Park  (181 4;,  Emma  (18 16),  and  Persuasion  (1818).  Her 
health  now  began  to  fail,  and  she  removed  with  her  sister  to 
Winchester  for  the  sake  of  medical  attendance.  Here  she 
died  July  iS,  181 7,  and  was  buried  in  Winchester  Cathedral. 
Living  as  she  did  among  the  secluded  proprieties  of  a 
clergyman's  home,  we  know  her  only  from  her 

Character  as  a  ,  — ,,  ,  -,,       ,        ,    , 

woman  and  novels.     They  reproduce  with  absolute   accur- 

acy the  social  atmosphere  of  the  genteel  soci- 
ety of  her  age.  Scott  regretted  that  he  had  not  her  'exquisite 
touch  which  renders  commonplace  things  and  characters 
interesting  from  the  truth  of  the  description  and  the  sentiment  ' 
There  is  no  note  of  cynicism,  no  false  sentiment,  in  any  of  her 
pages;  only  strong  common  sense  lighted  up  with  adeliciously 
subtle,  all-pervasive  humour.  Some  of  her  characters  are  as 
immortal  as  any  of  those  created  by  Dickens  :  especially  the 
dry,  caustic  Mr  Bennet  and  his  fatuous  wife  in  Pride  and 
Prejudice,  or  the  charmingly  garrulous  Miss  Bates  of  Emma. 
Jane  Austen's  genius  shows  itself  in  the  exquisite  fidelity  of  her 
character  drawing,  which  resolutely  refuses  the  adventitious 
aids  of  stirring  external  incident.  Her  defect  springs  from  a 
constitutional  incapacity  to  enter  into  any  intense  passion. 
Love  in  all  her  novels  is  a  mild,  genteel  sentiment,  culminating 
in  the  conventional  happy  marriage.  She  knew  her  limitations, 
and  wisely  refused  to  stray  beyond  her  appointed  bounds. 
But  in  her  somewhat  narrow  domain  she  is  supreme. 


JANE    AUSTEN.  359 

QUOTATIONS. 

To  sit  in  the  shade  on  a  fine  day  and  look  upon  verdure  is  the 
most  perfect  refreshment.     Mansfield  Park,  Chap.  9. 

It  is  happy  for  you  that  you  possess  the  talent  of  flattering  with 
delicacy.  May  I  ask  whether  these  pleasing  attentions  proceed 
from  the  impulse  of  the  moment  or  are  the  result  of  previous  study  ? 
(Mr.  Bennet  to  the  Curate)  Pride  and  Prejudice,  Chap.  14. 

Nobody  is  on  my  side,  nobody  takes  part  with  me  ;  I  am 
cruellv  used,  nobody  feels  for  my  poor  nerves.  (Mrs.  Bennet) 
lb.     Chap.  20. 

"I  am  afraid"  replied  Elinor,  uthat  the  pleasantness  of  an 
employment  does  not  always  evince  its  propriety."  Sense  and 
Sensibility,  Chap.  13. 

It  is  a  truth  universally  acknowledged  that  a  single  man  in 
possession  of  a  good  fortune  must  be  in  want  of  a  wife.  On  such 
a  man's  first  entering  a  neighbourhood,  this  truth  is  so  well  fixed  in 
the  minds  of  the  surrounding  families,  that  he  is  considered  as  the 
rightful  property  of  some  one  or  other  of  their  daughters.  Pride 
and  Prejudice,  Chap.  1. 


LAMB  (1775—1834). 

Charles   Lamb,    the    unique    and    inimitable    essayist,  was 

born    February    10,   1775,     at     the     Temple, 

Birth  and  paren-       London.     His    father  was  clerk  and  confiden- 

tage. 

tial  servant  to  Samuel  Salt,  of  the  Inner 
Temple,  immortalised  in  Elia's  Essay  on  The  Old  Benchers. 
Only  three  of  his  children  attained  to  maturity  :  John,  Mary, 
and  Charles. 

After  some  preliminary  schooling  Charles  Lamb  was  sent  in 
1782  to  Christ's  Hospital,    where    he   formed 
Education.  valuable  friendships,  especially  with  Coleridge, 

and  read  widely  in  Elizabethan  literature.  He  left  after  seven 
years,  as  his  incurable  stammer  made  it  impossible  for  him 
to  take  Orders,  and  only  on  that  condition  could  he  have  been 
educated  for  the   University. 

Through  Mr.  Salt's  influence  Lamb  obtained  a  post   in   the 

South  Sea  House  soon  after  he  left   school    in 

At^the  India  1 789,    and   in    1792    he    was    promoted    to  a 

clerkship  in  the  India  House,  which    he    held 

till    1825.     This   give    him    a    small    but   settled  income,  with 

which   he    managed  to  keep  the  home  together.     The  mother 

was  an  invalid,  and  Mary  inherited  from  her  a  strain  of  insanity. 

One   day    in    a   fit  of  irritation  over  some  domestic  trifle  Mary 

stabbed  her  mother  to  the  heart  and  wounded    her    father.     At 

the    inquest   a   verdict    of   temporary   insanity  was  brought  in, 

and  Mary  was  sent   to   an    asylum.     Charles,    however,    made 

himself   personally    responsible    to  the  authorities  for  her,  and 

so  obtained  her  release.     Thenceforward    he    relinquished    all 

idea   of   marriage  and  devoted  the  rest  of  his  life  to  the  care  of 

his  sister. 

There    are    several    references  in  Lamb's  writings  to  a  love 
„  .  affair  which  was  thus    tragically    blighted.     In 

Love  affair.  °  J  ° 

his  poems  the  lady   is   called    'Anna  ;    in    his 


LAMB.  361 

Essays  'Alice  W '     Her  real    name  was    Anne    Simmons; 

she  lived  in  a  village  in  Hertfordshire,  the  scene  chosen  by 
Lamb  for  his  romance  of  Rosamond  Gray  (1798).  Lamb's 
grandmother  was  housekeeper  at  Blakesware  (the  'Blakesmoor' 
of  the  Essays),  close  to  this  village.  Anne  afterwards  married 
a  Mr.  Bartram,  a  London  silversmith.  'Elia's'  tender  reverie 
Dream  Children  ends  with  the  wistful  reminiscence,  'The 
children  of  Alice  call  Bartram  father.  We  are  less  than  nothing 
and  dreams.' 

Lamb's   earliest    poems   grew    out    of  this    half-imaginary 
, ,  u    «/    ,j  -■>  attachment:  they  were  included  in  Coleridge's 

'John  Woodvil  '  J  ° 

E1'Zn1>atisfsn'Dra"      first  volume    of  verse  (Bristol,  1796).    In  1798 
he  joined  with  Charles  Lloyd,  a  friend     intro- 
duced to    him    by   Coleridge,    in    publishing  a  volume,   Blank 
Verse,  in  which  Lamb  made    his    mark    by    the    pathetic    'Old 
Familiar     Faces.'     In    :8oi    he    published    John    Woodvil,   a 
failure  as  a  drama,  but  interesting  as  being  so  largely  reminis- 
cent of   the    spirit   and   style    of   the    Elizabethan    dramatists. 
Later  on  Lamb  proved  the  value  of  this  close  study  of  Fletcher, 
Jonson,    and  their  compeers  by  the  admirable  notes  and    criti- 
cisms    in    his    Selections  from    the    Elizabethan     Dramatists 
(1808;. 

Lamb  and  his  sister  braveh'  struggled   on    together    under 

the  burden  of  poverty,  living  for    the    greater 
s'SSp^re.'  Part  of  the  years  1796  to  181 7  at  the  Temple. 

In  1806  the  managers  of  Druty  Line  theatre 
brought  out  Lamb's  farce  of  Mr.  H,... which  however  p-oved 
a  total  failure.  In  1807,  with  his  sister's  help  he  finished  the 
well-known  Tales  from  Shakespeare.  This  led  to  the  recogni- 
tion of  his  ability,  and  to  the  joint'^production  by  the  Lambs 
of  Mrs.  Leicester 's  School  (1807)  and  Poetry  for  Children  (1809) . 
In  1817  the  two  removed  to    Covent    Garden,    where    they 

lived  for  the  next  six   years.     Charles's  prose 

and  verse  writings  were  now  published  in  two 
volumes  as  The  Works  of  Charles  Lamb.  This  led  to  his 
joining  the  staff  of  the  newly  started  London  Magazine,  in 
which  his  first  paper  was  his  Recollections  of  the  O'd  South  Sea 


362  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

House,  where  his  elder  brother  John  held  an  important  position. 
One  of  Lamb's  former  fellow-clerks  in  that  office,  a  foreigner, 
was  named  Elia.  Lamb  adopted  this  pseudonym  by  way  of  a 
joke,  and  afterwards  kept  to  it  for  all  these  essays.  The  first 
collected  edition  of  them  was  published  in  1823  ;  and  the  Last 
Essays  of  Elia  were  brought  together  in  a  second  volume  in 
1833.  In  1823  Charles  and  Mary  started  a  house  of  their  own 
in  Colebrooke  Row,  Islington,  close  to  the  New  River.  One 
of  the  last  Essays  of  Elia  Amicus  Redivivus,  gives  a  humour- 
ous account  of  how  their  friend  George  Dyer,  after  leaving 
them  one  day,  through  sheer  absent-mindedness  walked  in 
broad  daylight  into  the  river  and  was  nearly  drowned.  In  1825 
Lamb  retired  from  the  India  House  on  a  pension  of  /"400  a 
year.  His  feelings  on  the  occasion  and  subsequently  are 
recorded  in   The  Superannuated  Man  {Last  Essays  of  Elia). 

This    pension    set  Lamb  free  to  choose  his  own  residence  ; 

„     ..  and    the   brother    and  sister  moved  to  Enfield 

Death. 

and  finally  to  Edmonton,  both  in  his  beloved 
Hertfordshire.  But  Mary's  infirmity  increased;  he  was  too 
far  from  London  to  see  his  old  friends  ;  and  he  found  that 
'absence  of  occupation  is  not  rest '  Coleridge's  death  in  the 
summer  of  1834  was  a  heavy  blow  to  him.  In  the  December 
of  that  year  while  taking  his  daily  walk  he  stumbled  and  fell, 
and  slightly  cut  his  face.  Erysipelas  supervened,  and  he  died 
September  29,  1834.  He  was  buried  in  Edmonton  Church- 
yard ;  his  sister,  who  survived  him  for  nearly  thirteen  years, 
was  buried  by  his  side  in  May  1847. 

One  of  Lamb's  peculiarities  is  the  impossibility  of  separa- 
ting the  man  from  the  writer.  The  criticism 
"iiAsYman'' :  tnat  aPPues  to  the  one  applies  equally  to  the 
other.  He  was  a  bundle  of  quaint  contradic- 
tions— of  the  strangest,  the  most  extravagant  discords,  which 
somehow  were  blended  into  an  exquisite  harmony  by  a  deep 
undertone  of  elemental  goodness.  Coleridge  in  his  Table 
Talk  thus  describes  him  :  'His  heart  is  as  whole  as  his  head. 
The  wild  words  which  sometimes  came  from  him  on  religious 
subjects    might  startle  you  from  the  mouth  of  any  other  man; 


LAMB.  363" 

but  in  him  they  are  mere  fhshes  of  firework.  If  an  argument 
seems  to  him  not  wholly  true,  he  will  burst  out  in  that  odd 
way  ;  yet  his  will — the  inward  man — is,  I  well  know,  profoundly 
religious  and  devout.'  It  has  been  truly  said  of  Lamb  that 
'he  jested  that  he  might  not  weep  :  he  wore  a  martyr's  heart 
beneath  his  suit  of  motley.'  His  addiction  to  strong  drink  in 
his  later  years  has  been  much  exaggerated.  His  life-long 
devotion  to  his  sister  is  the  truest  index  to  the  real  man.  'O  he 
was  good,  if  e'er  a  good  man  lived'  is  Wordsworth's  pregnant 
verdict. 

As    a  ooet    Lamb    felt    himself    out   of    his    element.     His 
.   verses    express    strong    personal    feeling  ;  but 
(2)  As  a  writer.        ne  has    no  mastery    of  poetic   art    sufficient  to 
make  him  at    ease  in    self-expression  ;    still   less  to  enable  him 
to    realise    the  '  pleasure  '    that    comes    with    genuine    '  poetic 
pains.'     Hence,  as  Symons  says,  his  best»known    Old  Familiar 
Faces\%    '  scarcely  a  poem    at  all  ;    the  metre    halts,    stumbles, 
there  is  no  touch  of  magic  in  it ;  but  it  is  speech,  naked  human 
speech,    such    as    rarely    gets    through    the    lovely    disguise  of 
verse.     It  has  the  raw  humanity  of  Walt    Whitman,  and  almost 
hurt"?  us  by    a  kind  of    dumb    helplessness   in    it.'       His  poem 
On  an  Infant  Dying  as  soon  as  Born,  withlits  concise  subtleties 
of  expression  is  almost  after  the  manner  of    the  'metaphysical  ' 
poets  (the  school  of  Donne,  p.  27).     But  in  prose  Lamb  was  in 
his  element.   Steeped  as  he  was  to  the  core  in  memories    of  the 
Elizabethan  drama,  in  the  pedantries  of  Burton  and    the    meta- 
physics of  Sir  Thomas    Browne,  or  in   the  poetic    subtleties    of 
Wither  and  Marvel!,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  write  in  ordinary 
English.     A    'self-pleasing  quaintness'  both  of  style  and  phrase, 
was,  as  he  himself  confesses,    inevitable.     Sir  Thomas   Browne 
especially  dominates  his  more  reflective  moments,  and  leads  to 
his  vivid  paradox  and  to  quaint  half-acclimatised  Latinisms.  The 
writers  of  the  Renascence   have  infected  him  with  their  passion 
for  word-coinage.     Still  more    characteristic  of   Lamb's  style  is 
his  rich  allusiveness.       '  He  is  full,  '  writes    Ainger,  '  of  quota- 
tions held  in  solution.     One    feels  that  a  phrase  or  idiom  is  an 
echo  of    something   that   one    has    heard    or   read  before.     A 


364  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

charm  is  added  by   the  very    fact  that   we  are    thus  continually 

renewing  our  experiences  of  an  older  day.       His  style  becomes 

aromatic,  like  the  perfume  of  faded    rose-leaves  in   a  china  jar.' 

Lamb's    masterpiece    is    undoubtedly    his    Essays  of  Elia. 

*  _..  ,       Thev  are  absolutely    unique  in    English  litera- 

'  Essays  of  Ella".  -  /  -i  o 

ture,  as  regards  style,  substance,  and  a  quaint 
inimitable  humour.  One  can  never  tire  of  reading  them. 
Written  originally  as  regular  contributions  to  a  journal  ;  often 
written,  as  he  himself  tells  us,  'As  a  futile  effort  wrung  from 
him  with  slow  pain,'  the  impression  they  always  leave  on  us 
is  that  of  fresh,  exuberant  spontaneity.  A.nd  Lamb's  wit  never 
leaves  a  bad  taste  in  the  mouth.  The  soul  of  transcendent 
goodness  illumines  all.  He  gives  freshness  and  beauty  to  the 
commonplace  and  the  trivial  ;  he  never  degrades  the  noble  and 
the  pure  to  obtain  the  false  humour  of  burlesque.  Perhaps  of 
all  his  charms  the  most  magnetic  is  his  frank  self-revelation. 
He  lives  in  an  Eden  of  the  simplicity  of  a  child — he  is  'naked 
and  not  ashamed.'  To  Wordsworth  the  'meanest  flower  that 
blows'  can  summon  up  'thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep 
for  tears'  ;  and  Lamb  has  the  same  magic  power.  Only  with 
him  (to  take  one  instance)  the  touch  of  inspiration  comes  not 
from  a  wayside  blossom,  but  from  the  soiled  human  flowers  of 
a  London  street  boy  chimney-sweeps,  'tender  novices,  bloom- 
ing through  their  first  nigritude,  the  maternal  washings  not 
quite  effaced  from  the  cheek — such  as  come  forth  with  the 
dawn,  or  some  what  earlier,  with  their  little  professional  notes 
sounding  like  the  peep,  peep  of  a  young  sparrow. 

QUOTATIONS. 

That  dry  drudgery  at  the  desk's  dead  wood.      Work. 

The  human  species  according  to  the  best  theory  I  can  follow 
of  it,  is  composed  of  two  distinct  races,  the  men  who  borrow,  and 
the  men  who  lend.     Two  races  of  Men. 

What  a  liberal  confounding  of  those  pedantic  distinctions  of 
meum  and  tuunt  !     lb. 

A  clear  fire,  a  clean  hearth,  and  the  rigour  of  the  game.  Mrs. 
Battle's  Opinions  on  Whist. 


LAMB.  365. 

He  who  hath  not  a  dram  of  folly  in  his  mixture,  hath  pounds  of 
much  worse  matter  in  his  composition.     All  Foots  Day. 

I  have  been  trying  all  my  life  to  like  Scotchmen,  and  am 
obliged  to  desist  from  the  experiment  in  despair.  Imperfect 
Sympathies. 

He  hath  a  fair  sepulchre  in  the  grateful  stomach  of  the  judicious 
epicure — and  for  such  a  tomb  might  be  content  to  die. 

Dissertation  upon  Roast  Pig. 

'  Presents '  I  often  say  'endear  Absents'.     lb. 

Nothing  is  to  me  more  distasteful  than  that  entire  complacency 
and  satisfaction  which  beam  in  the  faces  of  a  new-married  couple — 
in  that  of  the  lady  particularly.     A  Bachelor's  Complaint. 


LANDOE,  (1775—1864). 

Walter    Savage   Landor,  the  son  of  a  physician  in  Warwick, 

was    born    January     30,      1775.     His     father 

Parentage  and         and  mother  both  belonged  to  families  of  good 

Education. 

social  standing ;  his  mother,  whose  maiden 
name  was  Savage,  had  considerable  landed  property  which  was 
entailed  upon  her  son.  At  ten  years  old  he  was  sent  to  Rugby 
School,  where  he  soon  distinguished  himself  by  a  remarkable 
genius  for  writing  admirable  Latin  verse.  He  was  popular  and 
high-spirited,  but  exceedingly  impatient  of  rebuke  or  restraint. 
In  a  dispute  with  his  head  master  over  the  quantity  of  a  Latin 
syllable  he  behaved  with  such  reckless  insubordination  that  he 
had  to  be  removed  ;  and  on  his  return  home  he  quarrelled 
with  his  father  over  the  French  Revolution,  about  which  the 
two  held  diametrically  opposite  opinions.  In  1793  he  went  to 
Oxford,  where  he  soon  made  himself  notorious  by  his  out- 
spoken sympathy  with  the  revolutionary  leaders  in  France,  and 
he  behaved  so  violently  in  a  political  quarrel  with  a  fellow- 
undergraduate,  that  he  was  rusticated.  At  home  he  proved  so 
intractable  that  his  father  gave  him  an  allowance  and  allowed 
him  to  go  where  he  liked.  He  went  to  live  in  South  Wales, 
occasionally  visiting  his  home. 

Here    he    thought    out    and  wrote  a  romantic  poem,  Gebir,  \ 
which    he    began    in    Latin,    and     which     was  i 

'Gebir.'  B 

published  in  1798.  It  was  too  severely  terse 
and  classical  to  be  popular,  but  literary  men  like  Southey  and 
De  Quincey  appreciated  it  highly.  It  was  largely  a  prophetic 
vision  of  the  glory  of  the  French  Revolution  and  a  contemp- 
tuous satire  on  George  III.  'No  blank  verse,'  writes  Symons, 
'of  comparable  calibre  had  appeared  since  the  death  of  Milton, 
and,  though  the  form  was  at  times  actually  reminiscent  both 
of  Milton  and  of  the  Latin  structure  of  some  of  the  portions  as 
they    were    originally   composed,    it  has  a  quality     which     still 


LANDOR.  367 

remains    entirely    its   own.'     Scarcel}'  any  verse  in  English  has 
more  stately  music,  or  is  more  precise  and  restrained. 

In  1805  Landor  succeeded  to  his  father's  estate,    and    went 

Friendship  with      to    reside    in    Bath'  where  he  figured  as  a  man 
Southey;-in         0f  fashion.     In    1808    he    became    acquainted 

Spam.  ^ 

with  Southey,  and  formed  with  him  a  close 
literary  friendship,  each  admiring  and  helpfully  criticising  the 
the  work  of  the  other.  Their  political  enthusiasms  as  well  as 
their  literary  tastes  drew  them  together.  Waen  the  Peninsular 
War  broke  out,  Landor  with  two  Irish  friends  set  sail  for 
Corunna,  and  threw  himself  whole-heartedly  as  a  leader  of 
volunteers  into  the  war  of  Spanish  independence.  The  Con- 
vention of  C intra  drove  him  home  in  disgust. 

He   next  bought  the  estate  of  Llanthony  Priory  in  Wales  at 

a  considerable  sacrifice   of    his    paternal    pro- 
Mjauriiang'e ;  Pert>'    an(l    of   what  would  become  due  to  him 

on  his  mother's  death.  He  still  continued 
however  to  reside  in  Bath,  and  in  181 1  married  a  young  lady 
whom  he  met  there  at  a  ball.  In  181 2  he  published  his  tragedy 
Count  Julian,  on  the  same  historical  subject  as  Southey's 
Roderick,  the  two  working  in  friendly  co-operation. 

But   he    soon    quarrelled    both   with  his  Welsh  neighbours 

m  itaiy ; -imagin-      and    with    his  w,fe  >  Llanthony  Abbey  was  put 
ary  Conversa-        jnto  the  hands  of  trustees,  his    other   property 

was  sold,  and  he  left  England.  After  a  time 
his  wife  joined  him  and  they  lived  first  in  France  and  then  in 
Italy,  where  his  son,  Arnold  Savage,  was  born.  He  had  three 
other  children,  a  girl  and  two  boys.  Through  a  quarrel  with  a 
magistrate  he  had  to  leave  Como  and  take  up  his  residence  at 
Pisa,  where  he  lived  from  1 819  to  1821.  He  spent  his  time, 
partly  in  writing  Latin  verse  and  prose,  but  chiefly  in  the  com- 
position of  the  Imaginary  Conversations,  on  which  his  literary 
reputation  chiefly  rests.  These  are  dramatic  dialogues  between 
a  great  variety  of  historical  personages  (for  example,  Henry 
VIII  and  Anne  Boleyn),  written  in  a  style  at  once  pure  and 
vigorous. 


368  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

In    1829    Landor   settled    at    Fiesole.     Here  he  lived  very 

happily  with   his   children,    though    somewhat 
At  death!*'  stormily  with  his  neighbours.     He    published 

in  1  S3 1  a  revised  collection  of  his  poems,  and 
'.n  1834  brought  out  anonymously  his  Citation  and  Examina- 
tion of  William  Shakespeare.  He  wrote  also  a  great  part  of 
Pericles  and  Aspasia  (1836),  an  imaginary  correspondence. 
But  a  quarrel  with  his  wife  caused  him  to  return  to  England, 
where  he  went  from  place  to  place  till  he  settled  in  Bath  from 
1838  to  1857.  He  published  an  additional  series  of  Imaginary 
Conversations  in  1846,  Hellenics  in  1847,  and  Greeks  and 
Romans  in  1853.  A  quarrel  with  a  lady  at  Bath  involved  him 
in  a  serious  libel  suit ;  he  returned  to  Italy,  and  spent  the  rest 
of  his  days  at  Florence,  where  he  lived  on  bad  terms  with  his 
own  family,  but  kindly  cared  for  by  Mr.  and  Mrs  Browning 
He  died  September  17,  1864. 

The  defects  in  Landor's  personal  character  are  obvious  from 

the  above  sketch  :  he  was  essentially    undisci- 
H(i>  Ashman1" :         plmed,  and   mistook   the  excitability  of  week- 

ness  for  the  strength  of  true  passion.  Both  in 
literature  and  in  politics  he  was  curiously  anti-democratic, 
while  enthusiastically  devoted  to  the  idea  of  liberty.  Garibaldi, 
Mazzini,  and  Kossuth  he  reverenced  as  heroes  ;  yet  he  had 
little  practical  sympathy  with  modern  ideals.  Hence  his 
writings  both  in  prose  and  verse  have  never  been  popular, 
though  they  have  always  won  the  admiration  of  the  aristocracy 
of  letters.  Shelley,  Wordsworth,  Southey,  Lamb,  Carlyle,  the 
Brownings,  and  Swinburne  all  regarded  him  with  the  pro- 
foundest  admiration. 

Landor  was  a  distinguished  writer,  both  in  prose  and  verse  ; 

and  in  both  alike  there  was   the    same    severe 

(2    As  a  writer. 

truth  to  fact,  the  same  exactly  measured 
correspondence  between  the  thing  he  saw  and  the  words  in 
which  he  made  it  live.  In  his  prose  'every  phrase  comes  to 
us  with  the  composure  and  solemnity  of  verse,  but  with  an 
easier  carriage  under  restraint.'     Of  his    Pericles    and    Aspasia 


LANDOR.  369 

E.  B.  Browning  says  that  it  shews  him  to  be  of  all  living 
writers  the  most  unconventional  in  thought  and  word,  the 
most  classical  because  the  freest  from  mere  classicalism,  the 
most  Greek  because  pre-eminently  and  purely  English.'  Of 
his  Pentameron  (1837)  Saintsbury  says,  'These  conversations 
are  never  entirely  or  perfectly  natural  ;  there  is  always  a 
slight  "  smell  of  the  lamp,"  but  of  a  lamp  perfumed  and 
undying.  In  particular  Landor  is  most  remarkable  for  the 
weight,  the  beauty,  and  the  absolute  finish  of  his  phrase.'  He 
is  perhaps  at  his  best  when  he  deals  with  womanhood,  infancy, 
and  flowers  ;  here  he  is  surpassed  by  none  except  the  greatest 
writers  in  the  delicacy  and  the  depth  of  his  intuitions.  An 
excellent  example  of  this  special  power  is  to  be  found  in  his 
description  of  a  maiden  gathering  flowers  in  a  Fiesolan  Idyl, 
and  a  still  better  in  the  keen  sympathy  with  childhood  shown 
in  Landor  in  Enghnid  to  his  youngest  son  in  Italy.  Of  his 
shorter  poems  Rose  Aylmer  and  Dirce  are  poetic  jewels  of 
supreme  beauty. 


QUOTATIONS. 

Ah  what  avails  the  sceptred  race, 

Ah  what  the  form  divine  ! 
What  every  virture,  every  grace  ! 

Rose  Aylmer,  all  were  thine. 
Rose  Aylmer,  whom  these  wakeful  eyes 

May  weep,  but  never  see, 
A  night  of  memories  and  of  sighs 

I  consecrate  to  thee.     Rose  Ayhner. 

I  strove  with  none,  for  none  was  worth  my  strife, 
Nature  I  loved,  and  next  to  Nature,  Art  ; 

I  warmed  both  hands  before  the  fire  of  life  ; 
It  sinks,  and  I  am  ready  to  depart. 

Oft  his  Seventy-fifth  Birthday. 

Shake  one  (a  sea-shell)  and  it  awakens,  then  apply 

Its  polish'd  lips  to  your  attentive  ear, 

And  it  remembers  its  august  abodes, 

And  murmurs  as  the  ocean  murmurs  there.     Gebir. 

24 


870  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

O  Liberty  !  What  art  thou  to  the  valiant  and  brave,  when  thou 
art  thus  to  the  weak  and  timid  !  dearer  than  life,  stronger  than 
death,  higher  than  purest  love.     Sciftio,  Polybius,  and  Panaetins. 

The  things  that  are  too  true  pass  by  us  as  if  they  were  not  true 
at  all  ;  and  when  they  have  singled  us  out,  then  only  do  they  strike 
us.  Thou  and  I  must  go  too.  Perhaps  the  next  year  may  blow 
us  away  with  its  fallen  leaves.     Essex  and  Spenser-. 


CAMPBELL  (1777-1844). 

Thomas  Campbell,  one  of  the  most  inspired  of    our    minor 
poets,    was    born    in    Glasgow    July  2j,  1777. 

Bii-th  and  parent-         tt-      r    ..l  j  1,1  c 

age  riis  rather  was  a  retired  merchant,  the    son   of 

a  Scottish  laird.  The  poet's  home-life  was 
of  the  type  immortalised  by  Burns  in  his  Cottars  Saturday 
Night.  But  his  parents  were  not  strait-laced  ;  his  father 
never  used  the  rod,  and  left  domestic  discipline  in  his  wife's 
hands. 

At    eight    years    old    he    was  sent  to  the  Grammar  School  ; 
but,  overworking  himself,    had    to    take   a   six 

Education.  _ 

weeks'  holiday  in  a  country  cottage  by  the 
river  Cart.  There  the  love  of  Nature  became  an  instinctive 
habit,  and  afterwards  blossomed  into  such  poems  as  Field 
Flowers  and  To  the  Evening  Star.  At  fourteen  Campbell 
entered  the  Glasgow  University,  where  he  took  kindly  to 
classical  studies  and  gained  many  prizes  for  English  verse. 

In  1795    his   father's    straitened     circumstances    compelled 

him  to  take  a  tutorship  in  the  Isle  of  Mull. 
"Thoef  Hope"reS         A    half-fanciful    love    episode,    celebrated    in 

his  Caroline,  varied  the  monotony  of  his  life 
there.  Six  months  later  he  returned  to  the  University.  He 
studied  the  speeches  of  Chatham,  Burke,  and  Wilberforce, 
and  was  an  enthusiastic  advocate  of  the  French  Revolution. 
In  1798  he  began  The  Pleasures  of  Hope  and  finished  it 
by  April  in  the  next  year.  It  proved  a  great  success  and 
Campbell  at  once  became  a  literary  lion. 

In  June  1800  he  visited  Hamburg  and  Ratisbon,  and    came 

within  sixty  miles  of  the  scenes  so  powerfully 
ViSitUnentC°n'         depicted    in  Hohenlinden.      Returning     home 

from  Altona,  his  ship  was  chased  by  a  Danish 
privateer,  but  escaped,  so  that  he  landed    safely  at    Yarmouth, 


372  A   HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

and  thence  went  to  London,  April  1S01.  During  this  Con- 
tinental sojourn  some  of  his  minor  poems,  including  The 
Exile  of  Erin,  were  published  in  the  'Morning  Chronicle'  ; 
his  Ode  to  Winter  and  Ye  Mariners  of  England  followed  soon 
afterwards. 

In  the  Autumn    of    1S01    he    became    private    secretary    to 
Lord    Minto,  a  post  which    gave     him     large 
LOsedcrl^t2ity'S  leisure  for  literary  work.     In  1802  he  brought 

out    at    Edinburgh  a   revised    edition    of    his 
poems,  and  on  September   10,    1803    he    married    his    cousin, 
Matilda    Sinclair.     For    seventeen    years   he  settled  at  Syden- 
ham, a  country  residence  within  easy  reach  of 

Marriage.  J 

London.  In  1805  he  received  a  Government 
pension  of  £200,  and  from  1820  to  1830  he  was  editor-in-chief* 
of  the  '  New  Monthly  Magazine'  (to  which  he  contributed  his 
Lectures  on  Poetry)  with  a  salary  of  ^"500  a  year  ;  so  that 
Campbell  was  never  burdened  with  financial  cares.  His  wife, 
who  had  long  been  an  invalid,  died  in  1828,  soon  after  the 
poet's  removal  to  London. 

During  this  period  he    published    Lord    Ullin  s    Daughter, 

The  Soldier's  Dream,  The  Battle  of  the  Baltic, 

Literary  work.  J 

Gertrude  of  Wyoming,  Glenora  and  O 'Connor 's 
Child.  He  edited  for  Murray  Specimens  of  the  British  Poets, 
which  led  to  a  literary  controversy  between  Campbell  and  Byron 
on  the  one  side  and  W.  L.  Bowles,  who  had  depreciated  Pope 
as  an  artificial  poet.  In  1824  Campbell  published  Theodric,  a 
Domestic  Tale,  a  worthless  poem  ;  and  in  1842  The  Pilgrim  of 
Glencoe,  one  not  much  better. 

After  his  wife's  death  Campbell  did  little  beyond    lecturing 
and    public    speaking.      In  1854  he   spent  the 

Latter  years.  r  r  r>  jt  r 

winter   and  spring  in  Algeria,  a  visit  recorded 
in    his    Letters  from    the    South   (1845).      In  1843  ne  went  t0 
reside  in  Boulogne,  attended    by    his    niece    Mary    Campbell.  I 
He  now  became  a  complete  invalid,  and  died    June    15,    1844,  j 
and  was  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey. 


CAMPBELL.  373 

As  a  man  he  cannot   be    called    great.     He    was   loveable, 
affectionate,  had  all  the  domestic    virtues  ;  but 
(i^A^fman.  ne  lacked   strenuous    purpose,    and  was  prone 

to  drift  aimlessly  through  life.  His  friends 
nicknamed  him  '  procrastinating  Tom,'  and  his  publishers 
found  the  name  only  too  true.  He  had  a  weakness  for  wine, 
though  from  1804  onwards  he  kept  this  tendency  severely  in 
check.  He  was  liberal-minded,  had  a  strong  hatred  of 
despotism,  and  was  an  ardent  patriot,  as  is  shown  by  his  spirit- 
stirring  naval  ballads. 

As    a   poet    Campbell    is    distinguished  by  a  want  of  finish 
and  accuracy,  at  times  amounting    to    sloven- 
(2h is  defects! (a>      liness.     Thus  his  loveliest  poem,  To  the  Even- 
ing   Star,    otherwise    equal     to     the    best    of 
iKeats's  Odes,  is  marred  by  two  bad  blemishes  in  three  stanzas. 
\The   Battle   of  the   Baltic  is  a  magnificent  lyric  with  two  weak 
lines  '19,20)  and  one  halting  line  (59);  and  it  ends  in  a  ridicu- 
lous bathos.     Campbell  frequently  uses  bad  or  feeble  rhymes  ; 
his  poems  are  defaced  by  grammatical,  historical,  geographical, 
and  physical  blunders  ;  and  in  his  longer  poems  especially    he 
is  addicted  to  the  hackneyed  conventionalisms  of    the  imitators 
of  Pope.    And  where  his  feelings  are  roused,  he  often  falls  into 
an  almost  hysterical  exaggeration. 

His   Pleasures   of   Hope    is    chiefly  versified  rhetoric ;    it  is 

modelled  on  the  so-called  '  Classical  '    School 

<b  iencesXCel         °^    poetry.     But    within    four    years  from  this 

transition    stage    in    this    work    we    find    him 

'embodying    his    own    instinctive  genius  in  those  flawless  gems, 

\The    Soldiers'    Dream   and    Hohenlinden.      Of  this  latter  poem 

jSymons  remarks  that  'every  line  is  a  separate  emphasis,  but  all 

.he   emphasis    is  required  by  the  subject — is  in  its  place.     The 

.hud    and    brief    repeated  monotony  of  the  metre  give  the  very 

sound  of  cannonading;  each  line  is  like  a  crackle  of  musketry.' 

With  Hohenlinden  may  be  compared  Cowper's  Loss  of  the  Royal 

George :  in  both  the  narration  is  simple  and  the    materials    are 

pbvious  ;   in  both  there  is  the  intensity    of    feeling    that    comes 

'rom    constraint  of  expression.    Campbell's  style  exhibits  a  re- 


374  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

markable  transition  from  the  artificiality  of  Pope  to   the  simpli- 1 
city  of  Wordsworth  and  the  virility  of  Byron  and    Burns.     His 
poems  are  full  of  vivid  descriptive  touches  where  a  telling  word 
or  phrase  calls  up  a  whole  picture  to    the    mind's   eye.     Three 
examples  may  suffice  : — 

Tis  she  (the  muse)  elates 
To  sweep  the  field  or  ride  the  wave, 
A  sunburst  in  the  storm  of  death.1 
And  ships  were  drifting  with  the  dead 

To  shores  where  all  was  dumb.2 
By  this  the  storm  grew  loud  apace, 

The  water-wraith  was  shrieking  ; 
And  in  the  scowl  of  heaven  each  face 
Grew  dark  as  they  were  speaking.3 
Occasionally  Campbell  singularly  resembles    Wordsworth  :  | 
thus  five  lines  (68-72)  in  the   View  from    St.    Leonard's  might 
easily  be  mistaken  for  lines  from  The  Excursion  or  the  Prelude. 
He    has    moreover  very  much  of  Wordsworth's  deep  sympathy 
both  with  childhood  and  with  dumb  animals. 

QUOTATIONS. 

'Tis  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view. 

Pleasures  of  Hope.  I.  J. 

Hope,  for  a  season,  bade  the  world  farewell, 

And  Freedom  shrieked— as  Kosciusko  fell.     lb.  381-2. 

Without  the  smile  from  partial  beauty  won, 

O  what  were  man  ?— a  world  without  a  sun.     lb.  II.  21-2. 

The  world  was  sad,  the  garden  was  a  wild  ; 

And  Man,  the  hermit,  sighed— till  Woman  smiled.     lb.  37-8. 

Like  angel  visits,  few  and  far  between.     lb.  378. 

'Tis  the  sunset  of  life  gives  me  mystical  lore, 

And  coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before. 

LochiePs  Warning,  55-6. 

Whose  flag  has  braved  a  thousand  years 

The  battle  and  the  breeze.      Ye  Mariners  of  England,  3-4. 


»   Ode  to  Burn*.  64-6.  "    The  Last  Man,   19-20. 

3  Lord  Ullin's  Daughter,  25-28. 


CAMPBELL.  375 

The  sentinel  stars  set  their  watch  in  the  sky. 

The  Soldier's  Dream,  2. 

But  sorrow  returned  with  the  dawning  of  morn, 

And  the  voice  in  my  dreaming  ear  melted  away.     lb.  25. 

A  stoic  of  the  woods, — a  man  without  a  tear. 

Gertrude  of  Wyoming,  I.  23. 
To  live  in  hearts  we  leave  behind 
Is  not  to  die.     Hallotved  Ground,  35-6. 


DE  QUINCEY   (1785-1859). 

Thomas  De  Quincey,  one  of  the  greatest  of  prose  poets,  and 

the  most  literary  of  magazine  writers,  was  born 

parentage.  in  Manchester,   August  15,  1785.     His  father, 

Thomas    Quincey,  was  a  linen  merchant,  with 

literary  tastes;  his  mother  came  of  a  good  family  and  was  well 

educated.      The   former    died    prematurely   of    consumption, 

leaving    his    widow  with  eight  children  (of  whom  Thomas  was 

the  fifth)  well  provided  for. 

Thomas    received    his    education    at    different    schools    in 
Salford,  Bath,  Winkfield,  and  at  the  Manches- 

Education.  '  ' 

ter  Grammar  School.  He  was  so  good  a 
Greek  Scholar  that  he  could  talk  the  language  fluently  ;  but 
he  hated  the  restrictions  of  school  life  and  ran  away,  wandering 
for  a  time  in  Wales.  Thence  he  drifted  to  London,  and  there 
met  with  the  strange  experiences  of  destitution  and  vagabond- 
age related  in  The  Confession.  In  1803  he  was  sent  to  Oxford 
with  the  slender  allowance  of  jC  100  a  year  ;  but  he  disliked  the 
life  and  studies  of  the  place  and  left  it  in    1807. 

It  was  during  this  Oxford  time  that  he  first  experienced  the 
_  .  , .,  effects    of  opium,  given  him  by  a  chemist  as  a 

Opium  habit.  v  '  °  ' 

cure  for  rheumatic  pains.  The  use  of  the 
drug  became  a  habit,  which  coloured  his  whole  life  both 
personal  and  literary.  De  Quincey  deliberately  justified  its  use, 
and  apparently  was  able  towards  the  end  of  his  life  to  forgo 
it  almost  entirely,  without  having,  like  Coleridge,  to  put 
himself  under  restraint.  Undoubtedly  it  coloured  all  his 
thinking  and  writing,  turning  much  of  his  prose  into  Kubla- 
Khafi  (of  Coleridge  p.  347)  fantasies,  the  gorgeous  but  un- 
substantial  fabric  of  an  opium-dream. 

In  1807,  De  Quincey 's  mother  having    removed    to    Bath, 

he  met  the  Coleridges  in  Bristol.  This  led 
anonpfkiSm°Elter.'      t0  his    visiting   Wordsworth    and    Southey   at 

the    Lakes ;    and   in    London    he  formed  the 


DE   QUINCEY.  377 

acquaintance  of  Lamb  and  Hazlitt.  In  1809  he  settled  in  the 
house  at  Grasmere  formerly  occupied  by  Wordsworth,  and 
devoted  himself  to  literary  work;  and  in  181 6  he  married 
Margaret  Simpson,  the  daughter  of  a  farmer.  He  contributed 
to  'Blackwood's  Magazine',  'The  Quarterly  Review,'  and  other 
periodicals.  In  1821  his  Confessions  of  an  English  Opium 
Eater  appeared  in  'The  London  Magazine'  and  at  once  estab- 
lished his  reputation.  In  1828  he  took  his  family  to  Edinburgh, 
drawn  there  partly  by  his  friendship  for  John  Wilson,  the 
'Christopher  North'  of  the  Nodes  Ambrosianae,  and  soon  after- 
wards settled  at  Lasswade,  near  that  city,  in  the  cottage 
formerly  occupied  by  Sir  Walter  Scott.  Here  he  lived  and 
worked  to  the  end.  Besides  magazine  articles,  he  wrote  The 
Logic  of  Political  Economy  (1844)  and  a  romantic  novel  Kloster- 
heim  (1839)  of  no  great  value.  He  died  at  Edinburgh  Decem- 
ber 8,  1859. 

As  a  man  De  Quincey  was  abnormal ;  he  had  Coleridge's 
faults  without  his  loveableness  ;  and  he  never 
m^and^vv^iter.  knew  tne  elevating  influence  of  such  a  lifelong 
devotion  as  transformed  the  whole  beintr  of 
Lamb.  As  a  writer  he  is  unequal.  His  reading  was  enormous, 
and  he  often  makes  a  parade  of  it.  As  a  humourist,  he  continu- 
ally degenerates  into  a  laborious  trifling,  though  his  own 
special  type  of  humour,  the  grimly  fantastic,  best  seen  in  his 
masterpiece,  Murder  as  one  of  the  Fine  Arts,  stands  unapproach- 
ed  in  literature.  As  a  critic,  he  is  more  remarkable  for 
felicitous  phrase  than  for  real  insight-,  as  a  philosopher,  he 
is  but  superficial.  His  literary  style  is  often  inappropri- 
ately grandiloquent,  and  is  marred  by  excessive  involutions 
and  complications.  The  one  thing  in  which  he  is  unrivalled 
is  his  gift  of  imaginative  word-music — the  splendid  imagery, 
rich  colour,  and  vivid  intensity  of  the  visions  that  he  can  con- 
jure up,  clothed  in  all  'the  glory  and  the  freshness  of  a  dream.' 


378  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

QUOTATIONS. 

The  memory  strengthens  as  you  lay  burdens  upon  it,  and 
becomes  trustworthy  as  you  trust  it.     Confessions, 

Better  to  stand  ten  thousand  sneers  than  one  abiding  pang, 
such  as  time  could  not  abolish,  of  bitter  self-reproach.     lb. 

I  feel  assured  there  is  no  such  thing  as  ultimate  forgetting  : 
traces  once  impressed  upon  the  memory  are  indestructible.     lb. 

Then  like  a  chorus,  the  passion  deepened.  Some  greater 
interest  was  at  stake  ;  some  mightier  cause  than  ever  yet  the 
sword  had  pleaded  or  trumpet  had  proclaimed.  Then  came 
sudden  alarms,  hurrying  to  and  fro  ;  trepidations  of  innume- 
rable fugitives,  I  knew  not  whether  from  the  good  cause  or 
the  bad  ;  darkness  and  lights  ;  tempest  and  human  faces  ;  and 
at  last,  with  the  sense  that  all  was  lost,  female  forms,  and  the 
features  that  were  worth  all  the  world  to  me,  and  but  a  moment 
allowed— and  clasped  hands,  and  heart-breaking  partings,  and 
then  — everlasting  farewells  !     lb. 

The  public  is  a  bad  guesser.     Essays,  Protestantism. 
Friends  are  as   dangerous  as  enemies. 

Schlosser's  Literary  History. 


BYRON  (1788-1804). 

George  Gordon  Noel,  sixth  Lord  Byron,  was  born  January 
22,  1788,  in  Holies  St.,  Cavendish  Square, 
eirthtage.Pare"'  London.  His  father,  Captain  John  Byron, 
son  of  Admiral  John  Byron,  and  nephew  of 
the  'wicked'  Lord  Byron,  was  nearly  as  bad  as  his  uncle.  He 
scandalously  ill-treated  his  first  wife,  whose  daughter  was  the 
'Augusta'  of  some  of  his  sincerest  verses.  Afterwards  Captain 
Byron  married  Catherine  Gordon,  appirently  for  her  fortune, 
which  he  squandered.  She  was  a  Scotch  lady  of  good  family, 
but  with  a  violent  and  capricious  temper.  The  two  were  always 
quarrelling  ;  but  at  a  very  early  age  Byron  was  left  fatherless, 
and  thenceforward  alternately  petted  and  thwarted  by  his 
mother's  irrational  caprices.  From  birth  lie  was  troubled  with 
a  slight  lameness  in  one  foot  which  made  him  morbidly  self- 
conscious. 

On  the  death  of  his  great-uncle  in  1798  the  poet  succeeded 
to  the  title  and  estates.  In  1801  he  was  sent 
to  Harrow,  and  in  [805  to  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge,  where  he  made  some  friends,  including  John  Cam 
Hobhouse,  his  life-long  associate.  His  love  affair  with  Mary 
Chaworth,  the  daughter  and  heiress  of  a  neighbouring  squire, 
whom  the  'wicked'  Lord  Byron  had  killed  in  a  duel,  led  to 
nothing  beyond  the  inspiration  of  some  of  the  best  passages 
in  his  poems.  Byron  never  took  to  serious  study,  and  his 
strange  blending  of  vanity,  morbid  shyness,  and  exaggerated 
pride  of  rank  kept  him  from  deriving  much  benefit  from  the 
social  education  of  University  life. 

Byron's  first  poems  were  published  in  March     1807    under 

the  title  of  Hours  of  Idleness,  and  were  savage- 

<H'EngUsfhdB^I;       ]y  criticised  in  the    'Edinburgh    Review.'     He 

and  Scotch  replied  with  English  Bards  and  Scotch    Revie- 

Reviewers  r  ° 

wers  (1809),  a  telling    satire    in    the    style    of 


380  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH        111  LKAr\  LEE. 

Pope,  which  produced  a  considerable  sensation.  He  had 
meanwhile  attained  his  majority,  had  taken  his  seat  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  and  determined  to  keep  up  the  ancestral 
estate  at  Newstead  Abbey.  He  completed  his  education  by 
making,  with  Hobhouse,  the  grand  tour  of  Europe,  as  far  as 
was  possible  under  the  warlike  conditions  then  prevailing.  At 
Athens  his  meeting  with  Theresa,  daughter  of  Madame  Maerir 
inspired  his  well-known  Maid  of  Athens.  The  tour  included 
Lisbon,  parts  of  Spain,  Malta,  Greece,  and  the  surrounding 
islands.  It  was  during  this  tour  that  he  performed  his 
celebrated  feat  of  swimming  the  Hellespont. 

While    abroad,   Byron    had    written  two    Cantos    of  Childe 
Harold's  Pilgrimage,    which    were    published 

'Childe  Harold.'         ,  •..«•  -^    ,    l  0  t>i_ 

by  Murray  in  February,  ibi2.  Their  success 
was  phenomenal ;  in  his  own  words,  'he  awoke  one  morning 
and  found  himself  famous.'  He  became  a  literary  lion,  and 
the  spoiled  darling  of  Society.  For  ordinary  readers,  Byron  is 
best  represented  by  this  poem,  especially  by  Cantos  III  and  IV 
(1816-17).  The  antique  title  'Childe'  (a  young  noble, 
a  squire)  is  used  in  harmony  with  its  archaic  Spenserian  versifi- 
cation. 'It  was,'  Byron  tells  us,  'begun  in  Albania  ;  and  the 
parts  relative  to  Spain  and  Portugal  were  composed  from  the 
author's  observations  in  these  countries.  The  scenes  sketched 
are  in  Spain,  Portugal,  Epirus,  Acarnania,  and  Greece.  A  ficti- 
tious character  (the  Childe)  is  introduced  for  the  sake  of  giving 
some  connexion  to  the  piece.'  Canto  III  describes  scenes  in 
Belgium,  Switzerland,  and  the  valley  of  the  Rhine  ;  here  oc- 
curs the  famous  Waterloo  episode.  Canto  IV  is  chiefly  occu- 
pied with  Rome,  and  introduces  the  two  best  known  of  Byron 
recitations,  the  Dying  Gladiator  and  the  Address  to  the  Ocean. 
Cantos  I  and  II  are  too  much  permeated  with  the  personality 
of  Byron's  typical  hero  ;  but  in  the  third  and  fourth  Cantos  he 
almost  drops  out  of  view,  and  Byron  speaks  in  his  own  person 
with  untrammelled  genius  and  more  impassioned  eloquence. 


BYRON.  381 

This    success    incited    Byron    to   the   rapid   production  of 
poems    mostly    of    the    same    type    as    Childe 
tjphe  oBfVp°onem.  Harold.     In    1813    appeared    the    Giaour  and 

The  Bride  of  Abydos  ;   in    1814     The    Corsair 
and    Lara ;    and    in     1 8 1 5    the    Hebrew    Melodies,    The  Bride 
of  Corinth  and  Parisina — all  received   by    the    public    with    as 
much    acclamation    as    their    prototype.     The  '  Byronic  ideal,' 
a  young-    man    wrapped    in    a    mysterious    isolation,    who    has 
drained     the    cup  of    vicious    pleasure    to    the    dregs,     scorns 
mankind,  despises  women,  and  defies  God,  became   a    fashion- 
able craze,  and  infected  all  the  popular  literature  of  the  time. 
On  January  2,  181  5  Byron  married  Anne  Isabella  Milbanke, 
a  wealthy  heiress  of  noble  family.      His  daugh- 
Mamage  and  t       ^     wag  Dorn  jn  tne  following:  December, 

separation.  o  ' 

and  in  January  18 16  Byron  and  his  wife  sepa- 
rated from  each  other  finally.  Why  they  separated  has  never 
been  ascertained  ;  probably  it  was  nothing  more  than  entire 
incompatibility  of  temperament;  but  the  fashionable  world, 
which  adored  the  Byronic  hero  in  the  abstract,  could  not 
tolerate  him  in  concrete  reality.  Lady  Byron  was  con- 
ventionally faultless  and  religiously  orthodox  ;  Lord 
Byron,  being  hopelessly  free-thinking  and  unconventional, 
was  adjudged  to  be  wholly  in  the  wrong,  and  the  storm 
of  obloquy  both  in  society  and  in  the  public  press  was  so 
violent  that  he  left  England,  April,  1816,  in  disgust  and 
never  returned. 

After  leaving  England,  Byron  went  to  Switzerland  where  he 
met    the    Shelleys    and     formed    an    intimate 

The  Shelleys  ;  .  .         ,    ,  .  .  .       ,        ,        .,  T  ,  . 

The  Countess  friendship  with  the  family.     It  was  at  this  time 

that  he  wrote  Domestic  Pieces,  which  comprise 
the  pathetically  beautiful  Epistle  to  Augusta,  his  half-sister,  Mrs. 
Leigh.  The  Shelleys  returned  to  England  in  the  autumn  of 
1816,  when  Byron  went  to  Venice,  where  he  lived  for  about  two 
years.  The  wild  life  attributed  to  him  there  is  hardly  consist- 
ent with  his  great  literary  activity,  for  it  was  during  this  period 
that  he  produced  two  more  Cantos  of  Childe  Harold,  The 
Prisoner  of  Chi  lion  (1816),  Manfred  (1817),    The  Lament  of 


382  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Tasso  (1817),  Monody  on  the  Death  of  Sheridan  (1817),  Beppo 
(1818),  Mazeppa  (1 8 19),  and  Don  Juan,  Cantos  I.  IV.  In  iSig 
Byron  became  acquainted  with  the  Countess  Teresa  Guiccioli, 
a  lady  who  had  separated  from  her  husband  and  was  living 
with  her  father,  Count  Gamba.  With  her  Byron  formed  that 
peculiar  platonic  friendship  which  was  in  vogue  in  the  fashion- 
able society  of  Italy  at  that  time  ;  and  thenceforward,  while  in 
Italy,  he  lived  with  the  Gamba  family.  This  friendship  proved 
an  inestimable  boon  to  the  poet.  For  the  fit st  time  in  his  life 
he  came  intimately  under  the  influence  of  a  woman  who  was 
intellectually  his  equal,  and  who  had  sufficient  tact  and  sym- 
pathy to  inspire  him  with  the  best  ideals  possible  to  his  nature. 
Her  influence  upon  his  work  as  a  poet  may  be  compared  to 
that  of  Lady  Austen  and  afterwards  of  Lady  Hesketh  upon 
Cowper's. 

The    list    of    works    written    by  Byron  during  the  period  of 

this  Guiccioli  friendship  is  the  best    commen- 
perjeodS(i32r>23).       tal7    on     ^'s     fruitfulness.       It    comprises    a 

translation  of  Morgante,  Maggiore,  Canto  I  ; 
The  Prophecy  of  Dante  ;  translation  of  Franasca  de  Rimini  ; 
Marino  Faliero  ;  Don  Juan,  Canto  V  ;  The  Blues — all  written 
in  1820:  Sardanapalus  ;  Letters  on  Bowles  (a  criticism  of 
Pope's  genius  and  style)  ;  The  Two  Foscari;  Cain  ;  Vision  of 
Judgment ;  Heaven  and  Earth — all  written  in  1821  :  Werner 
and  Deformed  Transformed  (1821-22)  :  Don  Juan,  Cantos 
VI-XI  (1822)  ;  The  Age  of  Bronze,  The  Island,  and  Don  Juan, 
Cantos  XII  and  XIII — all  written  in  1S23.  From  the  Countess 
Guiccioli's  letters  we  know  that  Byron  worked  hard  in  sifting 
the  historical  foundations  of  his  Marino  Faliero,  and  we  know 
from  other  sources  that  he  took  great  pains  with  the  local, 
colour  and  legendary  basis  of  his  other  puems  ;  so  that  the 
above  list  represents  a  record  of  strenuous  literary  labour. 

In  1821  Byron  took  steps  in  concert  with  Shelley  and  Leigh 

Hunt    to    establish    a  journal  in  England,  The 
Th deith.ra' ' :         Liberal,  which   made    its    first   appearance    in 

1822,    but    came    to    an    untimely    end   after 
its    fourth    number.   Byron's   chief    contribution    to   this  paper 


BiRoisr.  383 

was  The  Vision  of  Judgment,  which  appeared  in  the  first  number. 
This  is  a  masterpiece  of  satire,  provoked  by  Southey's  criticism 
of  Byron  as  'the  leader  of  the  Satanic  School'  (see  354). 
Byron's  stormy  life  was  destined  to  have  a  stormy  end.  His 
enthusiasm  for  Greek  freedom  and  his  revolutionary  procli- 
vities led  him  to  throw  himself  heart  and  soul  into  the  Greek 
War  of  Independence.  He  raised  funds  in  support  of  the 
insurgent  chiefs,  and  sailed  from  Genoa  to  the  seat  of  war  in 
an  English  brig  with  arms  and  ammunition.  But  after  having 
been  appointed  Commander-in-chief  of  an  expedition  against 
Lepanto,  he  was  seized  with  fever  and  died  at  Missolonghi 
April  19,  1824.  His  body  was  brought  to  England  and  buried 
in  the  church  near  Newstead  Abbey. 

In    estimating   Byron's    character    as    a  man  we  are  mainly 

concerned  with  its  effect  on  his  writings.    One 

Byron's  charac-        thins:    is    certain;    he    was    not  one  quarter  as 

ter,  (1)   As  a  man.  o  i 

bad  personally  as  he  would  fain  have  made 
himself  out  to  be  ;  but  at  the  same  time  we  cannot  be  blind  to 
his  littleness,  his  vanity,  and  his  almost  snobbish  regard  for 
rank  and  title.  Undoubtedly  his  worst  fault  was  a  studied 
dissimulation  of  his  real  self,  a  love  of  posing  before  the  foot- 
lights of  the  world's  stage  ;  and  his  earlier  poems  are  little 
more  than  a  monodramatic  expression  of  this.  When,  how- 
ever, the  worst  sorrows  of  life  had  brought  him  to  the  sense  of 
reality,  he  became  far  more  natural.  His  masterpiece,  Don 
yuan,  probably  comes  nearest  of  all  his  works  to  genuine  self- 
revelation.  With  all  his  occasional  looseness  of  living,  he 
held  firmly  to  the  ideal  of  a  pure  and  abiding  love  for  one  as. 
the  very  foundation  of  true  manhood.  Byron  never  sneers  at 
marriage  itself ;  only  at  the  conventional  travesty  of  it  which 
is  too  common  in  Society.  The  deepest-rooted  evil  in  Byron's 
character  was  his  irreligion,  or  rather  non-religion.  To  him 
the  universe  was  a  hopeless  riddle,  'at  the  worst  a  glorious 
blunder' :  and  no  ray  of  Christianity  ever  illuminates  the  dark- 
ness of  his  spirit.  It  has  been  pointed  out  that  he  draws  his- 
own  portrait,  as  he  conceived  it,  in  Man/red:  — 


38-i  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

'  This  should  have  been  a  noble  creature  :  he 

Hath  all  the  energy  which  should  have  made 

A  goodly  frame  of  glorious  elements, 

Had  they  been  wisely  mingled  ;  as  it  is, 

It  is  an  awful  chaos— light  and  darkness — 

And  mind  and  dust — and  passions  and  pure  thoughts, 

Mixed,  and  contending  without  end  or  order, 

All  dormant  and  destructive.' 

Byron's  immense  reputation  during  his  lifetime  was  soon 
succeeded  by  a  reaction  ;  and  it  has  now 
become  almost  a  literary  fashion  to  decry  his 
merits.  But  he  is  the  only  British  poet  of  the  nineteenth 
century  who  has  a  European  reputation.  Goethe  affirmed 
that  England  could  show  no  poet  who  could  be  compared  to 
him  ;  and  Mazzini  extolled  him  not  merely  as  the  poet  of 
democracy,  but  still  more  as  the  man  who  had  opened  the 
eyes  of  Europe  to  the  transcendent  merit  of  Shakespare,  and 
had  taught  Continentals,  through  him,  to  understand  and  appre- 
ciate the  literature  of  England.  At  school  Byron  thought  his 
qualities  were  'much  more  oratorical  than  poetical'  ;  and  this 
is  true  of  the  great  body  of  his  verse.  He  is  vigorous,  direct, 
sincere,  with  an  admirable  fitness  of  expression  ;  but  he  has 
little  of  the  lofty  imagination  or  of  the  subtle  sense  of  music 
that  mark  the  true  poet. 


QUOTATIONS. 

Hereditary  bondsmen  :  know  ye  not 

Who  would  be  free,  themselves  must  strike  the  blow? 

Childe  Harold,  II,  st.  76. 

Music  arose  with  its  voluptuous  swell, 

Soft  eyes  looked  love  to  eyes  which  spoke  again, 

And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell.     lb.  Ill,  21. 

Battle's  magnificently-stern  array.     lb.  28. 

By  the  blue  rushing  of  the  arrowy  Rhone.     lb.  71. 

In  solitude,  where  we  are  least  alone.     lb.  90. 

Sapping  a  solemn  creed  with  solemn  sneer.  lb.  107.  (of  Gibbon). 


BYRON.  385 

The  Niobe  of  nations  !  there  she  stands, 
Childless  and  crownless,  in  her  voiceless  woe. 

lb.  IV.  79.  (of  Italy). 
Man  ! 
Thou  pendulum  betwixt  a  smile  and  tear.     lb.   109. 
There  were  his  youn^  barbarians  all  at  play, 
There  was  their  Dacian  mother — he,  their  sire, 
Butchered  to  make  a  Roman  holiday.     lb.   141. 
There  is  a  pleasure  in  the  pathless  woods, 
There  is  a  rapture  on  the  lonely  shore, 
There  is  society,  where  none  intrudes, 
By  the  deep  sea,  and  music  in  its  roar  : 
I  love  not  Man  the  less,  but  Nature  more.  lb.   178. 
Time  writes  no  wrinkle  on  thine  azure  brow. 

lb.   182.  (of  the  Ocean). 

For  Freedom's  battle,  once  begun, 

Bequeathed  by  bleeding  sire  to  son, 

Though  baffled  oft,  is  ever  won.      Giaour,  123-5. 

The  blind  old  man  of  Scio's  rocky  isle. 

Bride  of  Abydos,  II,  2  (of  Homer). 

She  walks  the  waters  like  a  thing  of  life.     Corsair,  I,  3. 

She  walks  in  beauty,  like  the  night 

Of  cloudless  climes  and  starry  skies.     Hebrew  Melodies.    . 

With  just  enough  of  learning  to  misquote.     English  Bards,  66. 

So  the  struck  eagle,  stretched  upon  the  plain, 

No  more  through  rolling  clouds  to  soar  again, 

Viewed  his  own  feather  on  the  fatal  dart, 

And  wing'd  the  shaft  that  quivered  in  his  heart. 

Keen  were  his  pangs,  but  keener  far  to  feel 

He  nursed  the  pinion  which  impelled  the  steel  ; 

While  the  same  plumage  that  had  warmed  his  nest 

Drank  the  last  life-drop  of  his  bleeding  breast.     lb.  826-833. 

Believe  a  woman  or  an  epitaph.     lb.  78. 
When  people  say  "  I've  told  you  fifty  times," 
They  mean  to  scold,  and  very  often  do  ; 
When  poets  say  "I've  written  fifty  rhymes," 
They  make  you  dread  that  they'll  recite  them  too. 

Don  Juan,  I,  st.  108. 

55 


386  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

A  solitary  shriek,  the  bubbling  cry 
Of  some  strong  swimmer  in  his  agony.     lb.   II,  53. 
'Tis  strange  the  mind,  that  very  fiery  particle, 
Should  let  itself  be  snuffed  out  by  an  article. 

lb.  XI,  60  (of  Keats), 

Tis  strange,  but  true  ;  for  truth  is  always  strange, 
Stranger  than  fiction.     lb.  XIV,  ior. 


SHELLEY  (1792-1822). 

Percy    Bysshe    Shelley,    '  the  poet's  poet,'  was  born  August 

4,    1792,    at    Field     Place,     near     Horsham, 

1Birthtage.paren"      Sussex.       His   father,    Sir   Timothy     Shelley, 

M.  P.,    was    an    ordinary     country    squire    of 

good    family.     The  poet's  mother  was  a  good  letter-writer,  but 

[  in  no  way  distinguished. 

After   two  years  at  a  private  school,  Shelley  in  1804  went  to 
Eton   College.     In    both    schools    he  became 
familiar     with    the    classics,     and    was    much 
]  interested    in  scientific  studies.     At  the  same  time  he  read  with 
I  avidity    the    sceptical    and    revolutionary    writers    of   the    1 8th 
1  Century,  and    William    Godwin's    Political    Justice    exercised 
'  a    lasting     influence    over    him.     Caring    nothing    for    school- 
;  boy     sports    or    traditions,    and    bitterly     persecuted    in    con- 
sequence,    the     young     Shelley    grew    up    shy,    defiant,    and 
!  solitary  ;  in  some  respects  a  sort  of  undeveloped  child,   a    child 
'  that  has  never  acquired  the  ideas  or  learned  the  responsibilities 
!  of    maturity.      In    18 10    Shelley   entered   University    College, 
'  Oxford,  where  in  181 1  he  published  an  anonymous    pamphlet, 
1  The  Necessity  of  Atheism,  and  was  expelled  the  University. 

Shelley    went  to  London,  and  there  he  fell  in  love  with  one 

of  his   sisters'    school-fellows,    Harriet    West- 

:MarriaMab.'Queen      brook'  a  g'rl  of  s'-^teen.      Her  parents  naturally 

objected  to  a  suitor  of   such    principles.     For 

i  Shelley    not    only    repudiated    Christianity,    but  had  embraced 

1  Godwin's  doctrine  of    '  free  love,'  i.  e.  that  marriage  should  last 

j  only    so    long    as    the    two   parties  are  in  love  with  each  other. 

:  In  the  end  the   lovers    eloped    together   and    were    married    at 

Edinburgh,    a    step    for    which    Shelley    was    disowned  by  his 

:  father.     After  their    marriage    Shelley    and    his    wife    travelled 

j  about  to  various  places,  returning  in  181 3  to  London,  where  in 

\  June  his  first  child   Ianthe    was   born.     Queen   Mab,    Shelley's 


388  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

first   poem  of  any  real  value,  was  privately  printed  in  this  year  ; 
it  was  of  too  revolutionary  a  character  for  regular  publication. 
In    1 814    domestic    disagreements,    caused    chieflv    by    the 

presence  in  their  household  of  Harriet's  eldest 
MfA7asGt°^in  ;         sister,  became   acute,  and  Shelley  and  his  wife; 

separated.  Harriet  went  to  Bath,  and  Shelley 
to  London.  Here  he  became  acquainted  with  Mary,  the 
daughter  of  Godwin  and  the  celebrated  Mary  Wollstonecraft. 
The  daughter's  tastes  thoroughly  coincided  with  his  own,  and 
at  length  she  and  Shelley  went  off  together  through  France  to 
Switzerland  ;  but  money  difficulties  compelled  them  to  return 
to  London  in  September  1814.  In  November  Harriet  gave 
birth  to  Shelley's  second  child,  a  son.  In  January  1815  1 
Shelley's  grandfather  died,  and  he  was  enabled  to  make 
arrangements  in  regard  to  his  hereditary  estates  that  freed  him 
from  debt  and  gave  him  an  income  of  /i.oco  a  year.  After 
some  touring  in  Devonshire  and  up  the  river  Thames  he  settled 
in  a  home  near  Windsor  Park.  Here  he  wrote  Alastor  or  the 
Spirit  of  Solitude  (18 16),  the  first  offspring  of  his  mature 
genius. 

After    the    birth    of    Shelley's    and    Mary's    son,     William,] 

Shelley  left  England  in  May  1 S 16,  taking  with 
HarrTet§edeath!        him    Mary,    the    infant,    and    Jane  Clairmont. 

They  settled  near  the    Lake    of    Geneva,    and 
were    near  neighbours  of,  and  in  constant  companionship  with, 
Lord    Byron.       Shelley    and      Mary    visited      Chamounix ;    its 
magnificent    scenery    has    left    its    impress    on  his  poem  J\Icnt\ 
Blanc  and  his    Hymn    to    Intellectual    Beauty.      In    September' 
1 81 6  they  returned  home.     In  November  Harriet  was  missing  .'I 
she    had    gone    from    her    home,    no    one    knew    whither;    in 
December     she     was     found     drowned     in     the     Serpentine,  \a 
Hyde     Park,    London.       On    December     30th     1S15    Shelley;! 
legalised     his    union    with      Mary     Godwin.       He     attempted  I 
to  recover  his  two  children  from  the  custody  of  Harriet's  father,!* 
but    Lord    Eldon    gave    judgment   against    him    in    the  Court 
of    Chancery   on    the    ground    of    his    atheistical  and  immoral 
opinions. 


SHELLEY.  389 

During  this  time  Shelley  was  residing  at  Marlow,    in    Buck- 
inghamshire,    spending     much     of   his   time 
'Risiam.?f  boating   on  the  Thames.     To  drift  and  dream 

in  the  sunshine  on  the  water  was  his  special 
delight.  He  embodied  some  of  the  feelings  caused  by  the 
troubles  of  this  time  in  a  fragmentary  poem  Prince  Aihanase,  in 
Rosalind  and  Helen,  and  in  his  Laon  and  Cythna,  embodying 
his  ideal  of  the  French  Revolution.  The  violent  attacks  on 
theism  and  the  Christian  religion  in  this  poem  roused  such 
strong  protests  that  Shelley  cancelled  parts  of  it  and  altered  it 
into  The  Revolt  of  Islam  (1817). 

During  this  time  Shelley  was  much  occupied  in  visiting   the 
homes  of  the  poor  in  his  neighbourhood,   who 
Sheform!rRe"  were  suffering  from  the  effects  of  a  bad  harvest. 

He  wrote  several  prose  pamphlets  urging  the 
need  of  speedy  and  drastic  reforms  for  the  relief  of  those  evils 
with  which  he  was  thus  forcibly  confronted  ;  and  it  is  remark- 
able that  in  these  pamphlets  he  is  far  more  moderate  and 
reasonable  than  many  of  his  merely  political  allies.  In  his 
poems  he  dreams  unreal  visions  of  a  golden  future,  and  his 
i  underlying  theories  are  often  absurdly  shallow  ;  but  he  never 
sanctioned  methods  of  violence,  and  was  content  in  practical  life 
with  instalments  of  reform,  however  small,  so  long  as  they  did 
not  compromise  fundamental  principles. 

Early  in  181 8  Shelley's  health  began  to  fail,  and    he    deter- 
mined   to    leave   Marlow    for    Italy.     Accord- 
Life  in  Italy ;  .  .        " 

'Premetheus'  ingly,    in    March  of  that  year,  accompanied  by 

and    rheCenci.'  ,  .  .r        ,  .  ytt-h-  1      1  •         •    <■ 

his    wife,    his    son    William,    and    his     infant 

daughter,  Clara,  six  months  old,  he  left  England  finally.     They 

j  spent    the  summer  in  Pisa,  Leghorn,    and  Lucca.     They   then 

visited  Venice  •,  and  at  Byron's  invitation,  settled  in  his  villa   at 

!  Este,  among  the  Euganean  Hills.  There  little  Clara  was  taken  ill 

i  and  died  in  September.     Shelley's  impressions  of   Venice   and 

'  Byron   are    idealised    in  a  narrative  poem  Julian  and  Maddalo 

j  (1818).     The  first  Act  of  his    Prometheus  Unbound  (1819)    was 

i  nearly    completed    at    Este.     But  the  need  of  a  warmer  climate 

drove  him  southwards,  to  Rome  and  Naples.     The  second  and 


390  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

third  acts  of  Prometheus  were  written  among  the  ruins  of  the 
Baths  of  Caracalla,  inspired  by  the  return  of  spring.  Here  in 
June  1 8 19  his  son  William  died,  and  the  grief-stricken  parents 
removed  to  a  villa  near  Leghorn.  The  tragedy  of  The  Cenci, 
begun  at  Rome,  was  completed  in  this  year,  as  was  also  his 
Prometheus.  In  October  Shelley  removed  to  Florence,  where 
the  news  of  the  'Peterloo'  massacre  roused  him  to  write  his 
Mask  of  Anarchy.  A  stormy  afternoon  in  a  wood  by  the  Arno 
inspired  his  magnificent  Ode  to  the  West  Wind  Wordsworth's 
senile  Toryism  led  Shelley  to  write  a  warning  against  such  selt- 
betrayal  of  genius  in  Peter  Bell  the  Third.  Finally  in  this  year 
he  translated  into  verse  the  Cyclops  of  Euripides. 

Another  son,  Percy  Florence,  came  in    November    18 19    to 

comfort  the  bereaved  parents.    Towards  winter 
^do^a.vefc.'        Shelley    had    to    remove  to  Pisa  for  a  warmer 

climate,  where,  with  occasional  changes  of 
residence  during  the  heats  of  summer,  Shelley  remained  till 
the  end.  An  expedition  to  Monte  San  Pellegrino  bore  fruit  in 
his  Witch  of  Atlas  (1820).  The  persecution  of  Queen  Caroline 
by  George  IV  was  somewhat  clumsily  satirised  in  Sivellfoot  the 
Tyrant  (1820).  His  introduction  to  Emilia  Viviani,  who  had 
been  imprisoned  in  a  convent  by  her  father  for  crossing  his 
plan  of  a  marriage  for  her,  brought  about  a  mystical  admiration 
which  in  1821  Shelley  embodied  in  his  transcendent  love-poem, 
Epipsychidion.  In  the  same  year  he  wrote  one  of  his  ablest 
prose  essays,  the  Defence  of  Poetry  ;  while  his  friendship  for 
Keats  was  enshrined  in  Adonais,  written  snon  after  the  news  of 
that  poet's  untimely  death.  Francis  Thompson  calls  this  the 
most  perfect,  as  Prometheus  is  the  greatest,  of  Shelley's  poems, 
placing  it  before  even  Lycidas,  because  it  is  the  longer.  He 
remarks  too  upon  the  inconsistency  of  the  poet's  doctrine  of 
Pantheistic  immortality — 

'He  is  a  portion  of  that  loveliness 
Which  once  he  made  more  lovely,'  etc. 
with  the  personal  immortality  implied  in 

'The  soul  of  Adonais  like  a  star 

Beacons  from  the  abode  where  the  eternal  are.' 


SHELLEY.  391 

la  his  Hellas  (1821),  modelled  on  the  Persae  of  Aeschylus, 
Shelley  idealised  the  revolutionary  movement  then  stirring  in 
Greece. 

In  January  1822  Shelley  was  joined  by  Lord  Byron  at  Pisa. 
They  were  in  constant  companionship  :  Byron's 

Death.  ......  r  ,    ,  r, 

strenuous  virility  having  a  powerful  fascination 
for  Shelley's  more  ethereal  temperament.  They  had  three 
other  friends,  an  adventurous  young  Cornishman,  Edward  John 
Trelawny,  a  young  lieutenant  of  dragoons,  Edward  Williams, 
and  his  musical  wife  Jane,  who  inspired  some  of  Shelley's  most 
•exquisite  lyrical  poems.  Trelawny,  Williams,  and  Shelley  were 
all  passionately  fond  of  the  sea.  A  new  swift  sailing-boat  was 
built  for  them  ;  and  the  friends  shared  a  summer  villa  near  the 
Bay  of  Spezzia.  Shelley's  unfinished  historical  drama  of  Charles 
I.  had  been  written  in  the  early  part  of  this  year  ;  and  in  their 
summer  residence  he  worked  at  his  last  great  poem,  The 
Triumph  of  Life,  never  completed.  In  June,  hearing  of  Leigh 
Hunt's  arrival  at  Leghorn,  he  and  Williams  sailed  thither  in 
their  new  boat  and  after  a  delightful  time  with  his  old  friend, 
on  the  afternoon  of  July  8,  they  started  to  return  home.  For 
some  ten  miles  out  to  sea  they  were  visible  ;  then  they  were  lost 
in  a  mist.  Day  after  day  passed,  but  no  news  came.  Trelawny 
searched  for  them,  and  at  length  identified  them  in  two  bodies 
that  had  been  washed  ashore.  They  were  cremated  in  the  pre- 
sence of  Trelawny,  Byron,  and  Leigh  Hunt ;  and  the  ashes 
buried  near  Shelley's  son  William,  in  the  old  Protestant 
cemetery  at  Rome.  It  may  be  noted  that  the  poet's  Stanzas 
Written  in  Dejection,  near  Naples,  in  which  he  would  fain  'hear 
the  sea  Breathe  o'er  my  dying  brain  its  last  monotony,'  seem 
half  prescient  of  his  end.1 

Shelley's  character  as  a  man  presents  strange  contradictions. 

A   fanatical    revolutionary,    and     yet     wholly 

character:  averse  to  methods  of  bloodshed  and  violence  : 

(1)  Asa  man. 

a  universal  philanthropist  and  a  self-sacrificing 


1  Cf.  also  Julian  and   Maddalo,   where   Maddalo    (Byron)   says   to 
Julian  ^Shelley)  :  'If  you  can't  swim,  Beware  of  Providence.' 


392  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

benefactor  of  the  poor,  and  yet  capable  in  private  life  of  con- 
duct which  in  any  other  man  would  have  been  heartless  cruelty 
— by  some  perverse  freak  of  nature  he  seems,  when  thirty  years 
old,  as  irresponsible  as  an  infant,  and  with  hardly  any  better 
grasp  of  the  realities  of  life.  He  was  in  certain  directions  'as 
ruthless  as  a  baby  with  a  worm'  ;  and  he  appears  to  have  had 
no  sense  of  moral  proportion.  There  are  instances  where  hi& 
conduct  displays  an  almost  inconceivable  egotism  and  morai 
obtuseness. 

Brooke    distinguishes    between    two    Shelleys  :   Shelley  the 
philanthropist      and      Shellev      the      musical 

(2)  Asawriter.  r  r  J  . 

dreamer.  1  he  first  of  these  is  the  chiet 
speaker  in  that  'sermon  in  verse',  Queen  Mab.  The  two  con- 
fusedly alternate  in  that  'most  unbalanced  of  all  his  works',  The 
Revolt  of  Islam.  Then  for  a  short  time,  the  culminating  point 
of  which  is  Prometheus  Unbound,  the  two  natures  reach  their 
perfect  fusion.  Afterwards  the  latter  nature  becomes  more  and 
more  predominant.  He  is  Shelley  the  dreamer,  who  lives  in 
an  ethereal  world  of  his  own,  divorced  from  all  the  realities 
of  life. 

It    is   remarkable  that  Shelley,  the  vegetarian  and  the  teeto 
Byron's  taller,  the  almost  Buddhist  ascetic   by    instinct 

and  habit,  should  have  been  so  closely  drawn 
to  the  self-indulgent  and  sensuous  Byron.  Byron's  influence  is 
shown  most  clearly  in  Peter  Bell  the  Third,  which  is  perhaps 
the  most  virile  of  all  Shelley's  poems.  It  has  something  of  the 
unpleasant  suggestiveness,  and  much  of  the  daring  abandon  of 
Byron's  Don  Juan.  Shelley's  Julian  and  Maddalo  is  describ- 
ed by  Symons  as  'Byron  and  water,'  while  his  Rosalind  and 
Helen  is  'Byron  and  fire.' 

Shelley's  attitude  towards  Nature  has  been  previously  dis- 
Attitude  towards  cussed  and  compared  with  Wordsworth's  (see 
pp.  324-326).  A  similar  comparison  may  be 
made,  in  mutual  contrast,  of  the  three  poems — Shelley's 
Arelhusa,  one  of  the  most  exquisite  of  all  his  lyrics,  Words- 
worth's  'Brook,  whose  society  the  poet  seeks,'  and  Tennyson's 


SHELLEY.  393 

The    Brook  \     or   again     of     Shelley's     Sensitive    Plant     and 
Wordsworth's  two  poems  75?  the  Small  Celandine. 

Shelley's   attitude  to    religion,    as   that  word  is  commonly 
Attitude  towards       understood,  is  practically  a  hysterical  and  irra- 
rehgion.  tional  iconoclasm.  Brooke,  however,   declares 

that  Shelley  'indirectly  made  an  ever-increasing  number  of 
men  feel  that  the  will  of  God  could  not  be  in  antagonism  to 
the  universal  ideas  concerning  Man  :  that  His  character  could 
not  be  in  contradiction  to  the  moralities  of  the  heart,  and  that 
the  destinies  He  willed  for  mankind  must  be  as  universal  and 
as  just  and  loving  as  Himself.  There  are  more  clergymen  and 
more  religious  laymen,  than  we  imagine,  who  trace  to  the  emo- 
tion Shelley  awakened  in  them  when  young,  their  wider  and 
better  views  of  God.  Many  men  also  who  were  quite  careless 
of  religion  were  led  to  think  concerning  the  grounds  of  a  true 
worship,  by  the  moral  enthusiasm  which  Shelley  applied  to 
theology.  He  made  emotion  burn  around  it,  and  we  owe  to 
him  a  great  deal  of  its  nearer  advance  to  the  teaching  of 
Christ.'  Browning's  verdict  is  that  Shelley  was  not  guilty  of 
any  'atheism  of  the  heart'  ;  and  that,  had  he  lived,  'he  would 
have  finally  ranged  himself  with  the  Christians.'  We  cannot, 
indeed,  do  justice  to  Shelley,  if  we  overlook  the  fact  that  a 
great  deal  of  the  accredited  theology  of  his  day  was  little  better 
than  a  caricature  of  primitive  Christianity. 


QUOTATIONS. 

How  wonderful  is  Death  ! 

Death  and  his  brother  Sleep.     Queen  Mabt  Canto  i 

Power,  like  a  desolating  pestilence, 

Pollutes  whate'er  it  touches  ;  and  obedience, 

Bane  of  all  genius,  virtue,  freedom,  truth, 

Makes  slaves  of  men,  and,  of  the  human  frame, 

A  mechanized  automaton.     lb.  3. 

War  is  the  statesman's  game,  the  priest's  delight, 

The  lawyer's  jest,  the  hired  assassin's  trade,     lb.  4. 


394  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Commerce  !  beneath  whose  poison-breeding  shade 
No  solitary  virtue  dares  to  spring  : 
But  poverty  and  wealth,  with  equal  hand, 
Scatter  their  withering  curses.     lb.  5. 

It  is  unmeet 
To  shed  on  the  brief  flower  of  youth 

The  withering  knowledge  of  the  grave.     Rosalind  and  Helen. 
All  spirits  are  enslaved  which  serve  things  evil. 

Prometheus  Unbound,  11,4. 
Death  is  the  veil  which  those  who  live  call  life  : 
They  sleep,  and  it  is  lifted.     lb.  Ill,  3. 
Narcissi,  the  fairest  among  them  all, 
Who  gaze  on  their  eyes  in  the  stream's  recess 
Till  they  die  of  their  own  dear  loveliness.    Sensitive  Plant,  I,  5. 
A  pard-like  spirit,  beautiful  and  swift.     Adonais,  St.  32. 
Life,  like  a  dome  of  many-coloured  glass, 
Stains  the  white  radiance  of  Eternity, 
Until  Death  tramples  it  to  fragments.  lb.  52. 

Most  wretched  men 
Are  cradled  into  poetry  by  wrong  ; 
They  learn  in  suffering  what  they  teach  in  song. 

Julian  and Afaddalo,  543-5. 
Can  man  be  free  if  woman  be  a  slave  ?  Revolt  oj  Islam,  II,  43. 
With  hue  like  that,  when  some  great  painter  dips 
His  pencil  in  the  gloom  of  earthquake  and  eclipse,     lb.  V,  23. 
True  love  in  this  differs  from  gold  and  clay, 
That  to  divide  is  not  to  take  away.     Epipsychidion,  160-1. 
Music,  when  soft  voices  die, 
Vibrates  in  the  memory  ; 
Odours,  when  sweet  violets  sicken. 
Live  within  the  sense  they  quicken  ; 
Rose  leaves,  when  the  rose  is  dead, 
Are  heaped  for  the  beloved's  bed  ; 
And  so  thy  thoughts,  when  thou  art  gone, 
Love  itself  shall  slumber  on.  To . 


KEATS  (1795-1821). 

John  Keats,  the  most  Shakespearean  of  Nineteenth  Century 

poets    in    imaginative  expression,  and  perhaps 

Birth  and  paren-      the  most  effective  exponent   of   the   Romantic 

tage.  r 

movement,  was  born  in  Finsbury,  London, 
October  29,  1795.  He  came  from  the  lower  middle  class  of 
society,  his  father  being  the  head  servant  of  a  livery-stable  in 
Moorfields,  who  had  married  his  master's  daughter  ;  and  who 
had  thriven  so  well  that,  when  killed  by  a  fall  from  a  horse 
in  1804,  he  left  his  widow  and  young  children,  of  whom  John 
was  the  eldest,  comfortably  provided  for. 

Keats    was    sent    to    a    private    school  at  Enfield,  where  he 

acquired  a  reputation    for    courage,    and    won 

Education.  n  r  . 

several  school  prizes.  He  studied  Virgil  and 
classical  mythology  with  close  attention,  from  a  literary  rather 
than  a  scholarly  point  of  view.  Robinson  Crusce,  The  Incas 
of  Peru,  and  Shakespeare's  Macbeth  were  among  his  favourite 
books.  His  mother,  to  whom  he  was  passionately  devoted, 
died  while  he  was  at  school. 

At    the    age    of    fitteen    he  was  apprenticed  to  a  surgeon  at 

Edmonton.     It  was  at  this  time  that  he  borrow- 

APaPsrurglCon. t0  e(1  tne  FaerV  Queen,  which  at  once  fascinated 
him.  He  used  to  rave  about  the  poem,  and 
,it  left  an  ineradicable  impress  on  all  bis  future  poetic  career. 
For  some  unknown  reason  he  left  his  apprenticeship  before 
his  time  had  expired  and  went  to  live  in  London,  where  he 
walked  the  hospitals  and  passed  the  Apothecaries'  Hall 
examination  with  considerable  success. 

While    in    London    he  was  introduced  by  his  school-friend 
,_  .     .  ...  Charles    Cowden    Clarke    (of    Shakespearean 

Friendship.  v  r 

notoriety)  to  Leigh  Hunt,  who  published  the 
poet's  fine  sonnet  On  First  Looking  into  Chapman's  Homer 
in    his    paper,    'The     Examiner.'     Keats's    circle     of    friends 


396  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

included  Shelley  and  Oilier,  the  publisher,  who  in  1817 
brought  out  his  first  book  of  poems  ;  also  the  painter  Haydon, 
with  whom  Keats  formed  a  close  and  strong  intimacy. 
Haydon  placed  a  likeness  of  Keats  beside  that  of  Wordsworth 
in  his  picture  of  'Christ's  Entry  into  Jerusalem'  ;  and  some  of 
Keats's  best  sonnets  bear  testimony  to  Haydon's  influence 
upon  his  artistic  life. 

Keats    soon    gave    up    all    idea  of  medical  practice,  and  by 
May  18 1 7  was  working   hard    in    Hampstead 

'Endymion.'  J  ' 

(where  he  was  living  with  his  brothers)  at. 
Endymion,  which  was  brought  out  in  18 18.  His  immediate 
friends  were  somewhat  divided  in  opinion  about  its  merits ; 
but  it  was  brutally  reviewed  in  'Blackwood's  Magazine'  and 
in  'The  Quarterly  Review';  though  their  obvious  injustice  led 
later  to  a  spirited  defence  of  the  poet  by  critics  as  eminent 
as  Sir  James  Mackintosh  and  Lord  Jeffrey.  Common  report, 
echoed  by  Byron  (in  his  Liberal  contributions,  p.  382),  attributed 
Keats's  subsequent  breakdown  in  health  to  these  savage 
criticisms,  but  without  foundation. 

In    June    181 8    his    brother  George  emigrated  to  America, 
_  and    Keats,   who  was  ailing,  went  for  a  tour  in 

Fanny  Brawne. 

the  Lakes  and  Scotland  in  hope  of  recovery. 
Not  long  after  carne  the  news  of  his  brother  Tom's  death  of 
consumption.  Pie  had  loved  his  brothers  so  deeply  that,  as 
he  tells  us,  his  heart  was  closed  to  love  in  the  other  sense  of 
that  word.  But  now  that  he  was  left  alone,  he  fell  deeply  in 
love  in  1819  with  a  Miss  Fanny  Brawne.  This  passion, 
doomed  almost  from  the  outset  to  hopelessness  through 
poverty  and  irremediable  disease,  exercised  a  predominant 
influence  over  him  for  the  brief  remainder  of  his  life. 

After   writing    a   tragedy,    Otho    the  Great,  and  a  fragment 

of    another    play,    King    Stephen,  Keats  com- 

■Lamia  and  other      pleted  his  poem  Lamia  (1820),  a  story,   based 

poems  ;  'Hype-  r  r  1 

fion.'  upon    Greek    witchcraft,    of     a     youth     who 

married    a   serpent-woman.     He     worked    at 

his    first   version    of    Hyperion,    which   he  afterwards,  in  1820, 

rewrote    in    narrative    form.     Isabella   or   the    Pol   of  Basil,  a 


KEATS.  397 

^tory  from  Boccacio,  and  St.  Agnes'  Eve.  with  the  Odes  to 
the  Nightingale  and  The  Grecian  Urn,  were  comprised  in 
the  last  volume  of  his  poems,  published  in  July  of  the  same 
year.  Hyperion  is  a  Miltonic  fragment,  in  two  books,  which 
pictures  the  despair  of  the  Titans,  conquered  by  Almighty 
Jove  and  compelled  to  give  place  to  a  new  race  of  deities.  In 
this  poem  Keats  shadows  forth  the  onward  progress  of  the 
world  to  higher  ideals  of  beauty  through  the  painful  renun- 
ciation of  older  forms  of  belief  and  thought  consecrated  by 
immemorial  tradition. 

In  February  1820  Keats  had  had  an  attack  of  bleeding 
from  the  lungs  after  a  cold  night-ride  on  the 
outside  of  a  stage-coach.  In  September  he 
went  abroad  to  Naples  under  the  care  of  a  young  artist  friend, 
Joseph  Severn,  and  afterwards  to  Rome.  Here  he  lingered  for 
three  months  ;  but  in  spite  of  the  best  medical  treatment  and 
Severn's  devoted  care,  he  gradually  sank  and  died  February 
23,  182 1.  Severn's  strong  Christian  character,  in  contrast 
with  his  own  vague  sentimentalism,  made  a  deep  impression 
upon  him  ;  and  at  his  own  earnest  request  Jeremy  Taylor's 
Holy  Living  and  Dying  was  regularly  read  to  him  during  the 
closing  days  of  his  life.  Four  days  before  his  death  he  asked 
that  the  words  'Here  lies  one  whose  name  was  writ  in  water' 
should  be  engraved  on  his  tombstone.  He  was  buried  not  far 
from  Shelley  in  the  old  Protestant  cemetery  of  Rome. 

In  one  of  his    letters  Keats  declares    his  one  desire  to  be  'a 

life  of  sensations  rather  than  of  thoughts';  and 

Character;  jn  anot;her  letter  he    declares  that  'with  a  great 

(1)  As  a  Man.  ° 

poet  the  sense  of  Beauty  overcomes  every 
other  consideration,  or  rather  obliterates  all  consideration.' 
This  seems  to  have  been  the  ruling  principle  of  his  life.  M. 
Arnold  remarks  upon  his  want  of  character  and  self-control,  so 
indispensable  for  the  great  artist,  shown  especially  in  his  letters 
to  Fanny  Brawne,  where  he  appears  as  the  merely  sensuous 
man,  the  slave  of  passion.  But  there  was  undoubtedly  another 
side  to  Keats's  character.  'He  had',  writes  Leigh  Hunt,  'a 
very   manly  as    well   as   delicate   spirit.      He   was  personally 


398  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

courageous  in  no  ordinary  degree,  and  had  the  usual  superiority 
of  genius  to  little  arts  and  the  love  of  money.'  Nor  must  we 
overlook  his  affectionate  devotion  to  the  members  of  his  family. 
Of  Keats  as  a  poet  Saintsburv  says  :  'The  note  of  all  the  best 
poetry  in  the  century  was  this  pouring  of  new 
English  blood  through  the  veins  of  old 
subjects — classical,  mediaeval,  foreign,  modern, ...and  Keats  was 
the  first  leader  who  started  the  adventure.  The  perfect  poetry 
of  his  later  work  showed  this  general  tendency  in  all  its  choicest 
pieces — clearly  in  the  larger  poems,  but  still  more  in  the  smaller, 
and  most  of  all  in  those  twin  peaks  of  all  his  poetry,  the  Ode  on 
a  Grecian  Urn,  and  La  Belle  Dame  Sans  Merci.  He  need 
indeed  have  written  nothing  but  these  two  to  show  himself  not 
merely  an  exquisite  poet,  but  a  captain  and  leader  of  English 
poetry    for    many    a     year,     almost     for    many    a    generation 

to    come To    Keats    we    must    trace    Tennyson,    Rossetti, 

Mr.  Swinburne,  Mr.  Morris  ;  to  Keats  even  not  a  little  of 
Browning  has  to  be  affiliated  ;  to  Keats,  directly  or  indirectly, 
the  greater  part  of  the  poetry  of  nearly  three  generations  owes 
royalty  and  allegiance.'  In  his  own  words,  'Beauty  is  truth, 
truth  beauty,'  Keats  sums  up  his  poetic  faith.  'It  was  just 
because  Keats  was  so  much,  so  exclusively  possessed  by  his 
own  imagination,'  writes  Symons,  'that  all  his  poems  seem  to 
have  been  written  for  the  sake  of  something  else  than  their 
story,  or  thought,  or  indeed  emotion.  Meditation  brings  to 
him  no  inner  vision,  no  rapture  of  the  soul  ;  but  seems  to 
germinate  upon  the  page  in  actual  flowers  and  corn  and  fruit... 
Metrically  he  is  often  slip-shod:  with  all  his  genius  for  words, 
he  often  uses  them    incorrectly,   or  with    but  a    vague    sense  of 

their    meaning We    have  only    to  look  close  enough  to  see 

numberless  faults  in  Keats  ;  and  yet,  if  we  do  not  look  very 
closely,  we  shall  not  see  them  ;  and,  however  closely  we  may 
look,  and  however  many  faults  we  may  find,  we  shall  end,  as 
we  began,  by  realising  that  they  do  not  essentially  matter.  Why 
is  this?  Wordsworth,  who  at  his  best,  may  seem  to  be  the 
supreme  master  of  poetical  style,  is  often  out  of  key  ;  Shelley, 
who  at  his   best  may  seem  to  be  almost  the    supreme  singer,  is 


KEATS.  399 

often  prosaic  ;  Keats  is  never  prosaic  and  never  out  of  key. 
To  read  Wordsworth  or  Shelley,  you  must  get  in  touch  with 
their  ideas,  or  at  least  apprehend  them  ;  to  read  Keats  you 
have  only  to  surrender  your  senses  to  their  natural  happiness. 
He  cannot  write  without  making  pictures  with  his  words,  and 
every  picture  has  its  own  atmosphere.'  Keats's  poetry  is 
essentially  Shakespearean,  'because,'  says  Arnold,  '  its  expres- 
sion has  that  rounded  perfection  and  felicity  of  loveliness  of 
which  Shakespeare  is  the  great  master.'  Where  he  falls  short 
is  in  the  faculty  of  moral  interpretation,  in  which  Shakespeare 
reveals  such  beauty  and  such  power.  He  had  not,  moreover, 
the  constructive  power  that  goes  to  the  making  of  an  Agamemn- 
on or  a  King  Lear.  '  His  Endymion'  continues  Arnold, '  as  he 
himself  well  saw,  is  a  failure,  and  his  Hyperion,  fine  things  as 
it  contains,  is  not  a  success.  But  in  shorter  things,  where  the 
matured  power  of  moral  interpretation,  and  the  high  architec- 
tonics which  go  with  complete  poetic  development  are  not 
required,  he  is  perfect.' 


QUOTATIONS. 

The  poetry  of  earth  is  never  dead. 

The  Grasshopper  and  the  Cricket. 

They  swayed  about  upon  a  rocking-horse 

And  thought  it  Pegasus.     Sleep  and  Poetry, 

A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  for  ever.  Endymion,  Bk.  I. 

He  ne'er  is  crowned 
With  immortality  who  fears  to  follow 
Where  airy  voices  lead.     lb.  II. 
Let  me  have  music  dying,  and  I  seek 
No  more  delight.     lb.   IV. 
Love  in  a  hut  with  water  and  a  crust 
Is— Love  forgive  us  !— cinders,  ashes,  dust  ; 
Love  in  a  palace  is,  perhaps,  at  last 

More  grievous  torment  than  a  hermit's  fast.     Lamia,  Part  II. 
Philosophy  will  clip  an  angel's  wings.     lb. 


400  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

A  casement  high  and  triple-arched  there  was, 
All  garlanded  with  carven  imageries 
Of  fruits  and  flowers  and  bunches  of  knotgrass, 
And  diamonded  with  panes  of  quaint  device, 
Innumerable  of  stains  and  splendid  dyes, 
As  are  the  tiger-moth's  deep-damasked  wings  ; 
And  in  the  midst,  'rnong  thousand  heraldries 
And  twilight  saints  and  dim  emblazonings, 

A  shielded  scutcheon  blushed  with  blood  of  queens  and  kings. 

Eve  of  St.  Agnes,  St.  24. 

As  though  a  rose  should  shut  and  be  a  bud  again.     lb.  27. 

Now  comes  the  pain  of  truth,  to  whom  'tis  pain  ; 

O  folly  !  for  to  bear  all  naked  truths, 

And  to  envisage  circumstance  all  calm, 

That  is  the  top  of  sovereignty.     Hyperion  II.  102-5. 

O  for  a  beaker  full  of  the  warm  South, 

Full  of  the  true,  the  blushful  Hippocrene, 

With  beaded  bubbles  winking  at  the  brim, 

And  purple-stained  mouth.     Ode  to  a  Nightingale. 

The  weariness,  the  fever,  and  the  fret, 

Here,  where  men  sit,  and  hear  each  other  groan.     lb. 

Heard  melodies  are  sweet,  but  those  unheard 

Are  sweeter.     Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn. 

On  one  side  is  a  field  of  drooping  oats, 

Through  which  the  poppies  show  their  scarlet  coats, 

So  pert  and  useless  that  they  bring  to  mind 

The  scarlet  coats  that  pester  humankind. 

To  my  Brother  George. 
Even  bees,  the  little  almsmen  of  spring  bowers, 
Know  there  is  richest  juice  in  poison  flowers.     Isabella,  St.  13. 


CARLYLE  (1795-1881). 

Thomas  Carlyle,  'a  prophet  in  the  guise  of  a  man  of  letters/ 

was  born  December  4.    1795    at    Ecclefechan 

Birth  and  paren-      Jn  Annandale,  Dumfriesshire.     His  father  was 

a  prosperous  stonemason    of    sturdy  character 

and    intellect.     His    mother    had    been     a     servant  ;     poorly 

educated,  she  taught  herself  to  write  to    be   able  to  correspond 

with   her    son    Thomas.     Both    were  earnestly  attached  to  one 

of  the  offshoots  of  the  National  Kirk,  and  both  set  their    hearts 

on  making  Thomas  a  Minister  of  their  own  denomination. 

Carlyle  learned  English  and  began  Latin  at  his  own    parish 

school.     Thence  in  1805  he    went    to    Annan 

Education.  ■* 

Academy,  and  in  1809  entered  the  University 
of  Edinburgh.  Here  he  worked  well,  but  gained  no  distinction 
except  in  mathematics.  In  181 3  having  finished  his  Arts 
Course  without  a  degree,  he  began  to  study  Divinity.  In  1814 
he  was  made  mathematical  master  of  Annan  Academy,  and  in 
1 8 16  was  appointed  teacher  of  the  Grammar  School  of 
Kirkcaldy  in  opposition  to  Edward  Irving.  The  two  rivals 
became  fast  friends  and  remained  such  for  life.  In  18 18  he 
gave  up  his  school  and  went  to  Edinburgh.  Here,  having 
finally  decided  against  the  Ministry  on  conscientious  grounds, 
he  tried  for  a  time  the  study  of  law  ;  but  soon  threw  it  aside, 
and  so  ended  his  career  as  a  University  student. 

For   a   time,    Carlyle    gained    a  livelihood  by  literary  hack 
work  and  by  taking  pupils  ;  in  1822  he  became 

MarResgaeriu!/rt°r  tutor  to  charles  Buller,  the  famous  politician, 
and  his  two  brothers,  with  a  salary  of  ^"200  a 
year.  This  gave  him  leisure  to  write  a  Life  of  Schiller  and  a 
translation  of  Goethe's  Wilhelm  M enter.  In  October  1826 
he  married  Jane  Baillie  Welsh,  the  only  daughter  of  Dr.  John 
Welsh  of  Haddington.  For  a  time  they  lived  in  Edinburgh,  and 
Carlyle  contributed  to  'The  Edinburgh  Review'  ;    but    in   May 

26 


402  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

1828  they  retired  to  the  solitude  of  his  wife's  farm  at  Craigen- 
puttock,  that  he  might  devote  himself  exclusively  to  literature 
and  self-education.  Here,  besides  Review  articles,  he  wrote 
his  first  great  and  characteristic  book,  Sartor  Resartas,  first 
published  by  instalments  in  'Fraser's  Magazine'  (1833-34),  then 
in  book  form  in  1838. 

In    1834    Carlyle    and    his  wife  left  Scotland  and  settled  in 
..„.         „  London  at  5,    Cheyne    Row.    Chelsea,    where 

At  Cheyne  Row.  -"  J 

he  lived  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  Here  he 
worked  steadily  at  his  French  Revolution,  undismayed  by  the 
accidental  burning  of  the  MS  of  the  first  volume.  It  appeared 
in  1837.  From  1837  to  1840  he  gave  lectures  on  literary  and 
historical  subjects,  among  them  being  Heroes  and  Hero  Wor- 
ship, published  in  book  form  in  1841.  In  1839  he  definitely 
assumed  the  role  of  a  political  prophet  by  publishing  his 
pamphlets  on  Chartism  (1839),  Past  and  Present  (1843),  an^ 
Latter  Day  Pamphlets  (1850).  In  1845  he  revolutionised 
the  unfavourable  popular  estimate  of  Cromwell  by  publish- 
ing Cromwell's  Letters  and  Speeches.  In  1851  he  wrote  a 
biography  of  his  friend  John  Sterling,  and  thenceforward  he 
devoted  himself  to  his  longest  work,  the  History  of  Frederick 
the  Great  (1865).  In  1866  he  was  triumphantly  installed  as 
Lord  Rector  of  Edinburgh  University,  when  he  delivered  a 
characteristic  address  to  the  students  ;  but  his  joy  was  turned 
into  remorseful  mourning  by  the  news  of  his  wife's  sudden 
death  April  21,  1866.  Too  late  he  found  out  how  deeply  she 
had  suffered  by  the  thoughtless  moroseness  of  his  habits. 
After  her  death  he  wrote  no  important  works  ;  but  he  took  an 
active  interest  in  international  politics.  He  died  February  5, 
1 88 1.  A  funeral  in  Westminster  Abbey  was  offered  ;  but 
he  had  left  instructions  for  a  private  burial  at  Ecclefechan. 
Both  as  a  man  and  a  writer,  Carlyle  was  a  'pithy,  bitter- 
speaking  body.'  But  he  was  capable  of  strong 
r^vu^uid^'writer  anc*  generous  friendship  ;  and  his  bearishness 
was  largely  the  result  of  chronic  ill-health  (he 
was  a  lifelong  martyr  to  dyspepsia)  and  of  an  overmastering, 
scornful  hatred  of   social   affectations    and    pretences.     As   a 


CARLYLE.  403 

writer  his  chief  characteristics  are  a  white  heat  of  enthusiasm 
or  indignation,  set  off  by  alternations  of  quaint,  caustic 
humour ;  a  profound  insight  into  character  and  a  sledge- 
hammer directness  and  force  in  argument  coupled  with  an 
intensely  vivid  dramatic  presentment  of  his  ideas.  And  with 
all  this  almost  savage  strength,  there  is  a  deep  underlying  vein 
of  tenderness. 

Carlyle's  genius  is  mainly  historical,   for    biography    is    but 
history    in    miniature.     But    everywhere   he  is 

Chief  works.  ,         .  .  ,         ,  ...  f     ,  .         TT 

dominated  by  the  central  idea   or    his    Heroes. 

To  him,  mankind  is  a  herd  of  moral  ciphers  who  are  led  and 
I  moulded  by  the  God-inspired  Strong  Man.  As  Mazzini  truly 
isays,  'Carlyle  comprehends  only  the  individual  ;  the  true  sense 

|of  the  unity    of  the    human    race    escapes    him The    great 

'religious  idea,  the  continued  development  of  Humanity  by  a 
I  collective  labour,  according  to  an  educational  plan  designed  by 
(Providence,  finds  but  a  feeble  echo,  or  rather  no  ocho  at  all   in 

his  soul.'  Hence  his  exclusive  enthusiasm  for  the  great  and 
;  forceful  leaders  in  thought  or  action;  the  Luthers,  the  Cromwells 
I  of  history.  Carlyle's  French  Revolution  is  a  series  of  prophetic 
[visions  rather  than  a  history;  indeed  it  is  hardly  intelligible  to 
iany   one    who   has  not  first  gained  a  clear  view  of  the  sequence 

of  the  actual  facts.  His  Sartor  Resartus  is  a  thinly  veiled 
{autobiography,  in  which,  with  a  volcanic  ruggedness  of  style 
land  a  humour  half  cynical  but  wholly  sincere,  he  criticises  and 
(condemns  the  want  of  principles  and  ideals,  the  hypocrisy  and 
!the  materialism  of  his  age. 


'.-)  * 


QUOTATIONS. 

The  Public  is  an  old  woman.  Let  her  maunder  and  mumble. 
\  Journal,  1835. 

The  beginning  of  all  is  to  have  done  with  Falsity  to  eschew 
'Falsity  as  Death  Eternal.    June  23,  1870. 

It  is  now  almost  my  sole  rule  of  life  to  clear  myself  of  cants  and 
(formulas,  as  of  poisonous  Nessus  shirts.     Letter  to  his  Wije,   Nov. 

k  l835- 


404  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

How  far  inferior  for  seeing  with  is  your  brightest  rain  of  fire- 
works to  the  humblest  farthing  candle.     Diderot. 

In  epochs  when  cash  payment  has  become  the  sole  nexus  of 
man  to  man.     Chartism,  Chap.  2. 

Liquid  madness  sold  at  tenpence  the  quartern.     lb.  4. 

Evil,  once  manfully  fronted,  ceases  to  be  evil.     lb.  10. 

What  we  might  call,  by  way  of  eminence,  the  dismal  science 
{i.e.  political  economy).      The  Nigger  Question. 

It  is  the  first  of  all  problems  for  a  man  to  find  out  what  kind 
of  work  he  is  to  do  in  this  universe.     Address  at  Edinburgh,  1866. 

Work  is  the  grand  cure  of  all  the  maladies  and  miseries  that 
ever  beset  mankind.     lb. 

History  is  the  essence  of  innumerable  biographies.   On  History. 

Self-contemplation  is  infallibly  the  symptom  of  disease,  be  it  or 
be  it  not  the  cure.     Characteristics. 

A  loving  heart  is  the  beginning  of  all  knowledge.   A  Biography. 

The  sea-green  incorruptible  (of  Robespierre).  French  Revolu- 
tion, III,  3.  1. 

A  Burns  is  infinitely  better  educated  than  a  Byron.    Note  Book. 

Sarcasm  I  now  see  to  be,  in  general,  the  language  of  the  Devil. 
Sartor  Besarius,  II.  4. 

Do  the  duty  that  lies  nearest  thee,  which  thou  knowest  to  be  a 
duty  ;  the  second  duty  will  already  become  clearer.     lb.  p. 

That  monstrous  Tuberosity  of  chilised  life,  the  capital  of 
England.     lb.  III.  6. 

Of  all  the  nations  in  the  world,  at  present  the  English  are  the 
stupidest  in  speech,  the  wisest  in  action.     Fast  and  Present,  III.  5. 

Every  noble  crown  is,  and  on  earth  will  for  ever  be,  a  crown  of 
thorns.     lb.  8. 

Blessed  is  he  who  has  found  his    work  ;  let    him    ask    no    other  | 
blessedness.     lb.  11. 

Little  other  than  a  red-tape  talking  machine,  and  unhappy  bag 
of  Parliamentary  eloquence.     Latter  Day  Pamphlets,  No.  1. 

Idlers,  game  preservers,  and  mere  human  clothes-horses.  lb. 
No.  3. 

A  Parliament  speaking  through  reporters  to  Buncombe  and  the- 
twenty-seven  millions,  mostly  fools.     lb.  No.  6. 


MACAULAY  (1800-1859) 

Thomas  Babington  Macaulay,  one  of  the  most  brilliant  of 
Birth  and  par-         essayists  and    historians,    was  born  at  Rothley 

entage.  Temple,     Leicestershire,     the     house    of   his 

father's  sister,  Mrs.  Babington,  October  25,  1800.  On  his 
father's  side  he  was  connected  with  a  Celtic  family,  many  of 
whom  had  been  distinguished  as  ministers  of  the  Kirk  of 
Scotland.  His  mother  was  a  Quaker,  a  pupil  and  friend  of 
Hannah  More's.  His  father,  Zachary  Macaulay,  had  been 
overseer  of  a  slave  plantation  in  Jamaica,  but  afterwards  held 
an  important  position  in  the  Sierra  Leone  Company  for  the 
development  of  free  negro  labour,  and  joined  Wilberforce  in 
his  anti-slavery  crusade.  Young  Macaulay  was  distinguished 
by  a  ready  wit  and  a  marvellous  memory  ;  his  early  surround- 
ings no  doubt  helped  to  inspire  him  with  a  life-long  enthusiasm 
for  liberty  and  profound  veneration  for  the  Puritan  Evangeli- 
calism which  was  so  staunch  a  protector  of  the  enslaved  and 
the  oppressed. 

Macaulay  was  educated  at  private  schools,  first  at  Clapham, 
then  near  Cambridge,  and  in  October  18 18 
entered  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  He 
gained  several  College  and  University  prizes,  but  did  not  pass 
in  the  Tripos  through  his  inaptitude  for  mathematics.  He 
took  his  degree  in  1822,  and  in  1824  was  elected  a  Fellow  of 
his  College.  The  failure  of  his  father's  firm  led  him  to  read 
law,  and  he  was  called  to  the  Bar  in  1826. 

As  a  child  of  seven  Macaulay  had  written  a  compendium 
Essay  on  Mil-  °f  Universal  History  and  long  poems  in  imita- 
ton-  tion  of    Scott.     In    1823  he  became  a  contrib- 

utor to  'Knight's  Quarterly  Magazine'  and  some  of  his  best 
verses,  Ivry,  the  Armada,  and  Naseby,  appeared  in  its  columns. 
In  1825  Jeffrey,  looking  out  for  'some  clever  young  man'  to 
sustain  the  reputation  of  the    'Edinburgh    Review'  eame  across 


406  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

Macaulay.  His  first  contribution  was  an  article  on  Milton, 
which  at  once  made  his  reputation,  though  he  himself  after- 
wards declared  that  'it  contained  scarcely  a  paragraph  which 
his  matured  judgment  approved.'  This  success  decided  him 
to  embrace  literature  conjoined  with  politics  as  his  final 
vocation.  He  was  a  Tory  when  he  went  to  Cambridge,  but 
there  his  friend  Austin  had  converted  him  almost'to  Radicalism; 
and  for  the  rest  of  his  life  he  remained  a  Whiff  of  the  Whi^s. 
His  articles  attracted  the  attention  of  Lord  Lyndhurst,  who 
appointed  him  in  1828  a  Commissioner  of  Bankruptcy.  In 
1830  Lord  Lansdowne  sent  him  to  Parliament  for  his  own 
pocket-borough  of  Calne. 

His  first   speech,    on    behalf    of  the  removal  of  Jewish  dis- 
Pariiamentary         abilities,  was  a  pronounced  success.  He  showed 

career.  himself   a    powerful     debater,    and    after   the 

passing  of  the    Reform    Bill  he  sat  as    one  of  the  two  members- 
for  the  new  borough  of  Leeds,  and  was  made    Secretary  of  the 
Board  of  Control    over  the  East    India  Company.     In  1834  he 
went  out  to    India  as   member  of   the    Supreme  Council.     He 
was  accompanied  by  his  sister  Hannah,  who  afterwards  married 
Charles  Edward  Trevelyan,  an  energetic  Under-Secretary,  who 
was  subsequently   made  a  baronet   for  the    good    work  he  had 
done    in    India.     While    on   the    Supreme    Council  Macaulay 
served  as  President  on  two  Committees,  for  Education  and  for 
Law  Reform.     He  thus    moulded  the  whole  future  of  English 
education  for  the   natives  of    India,  and    had  the   largest  share 
in  drawing    up  the   Indian    Penal    Code,    which    has  stood  the  j 
test  of  practical    experience    and    commanded    the  admiration 
of  the  best  legal  experts.     In  India    he  read   voluminously  and 
wrote  many    articles  for    the    'Edinburgh.'     In    1838,  he  came 
home  with  a   competence  saved    from  his    salary,  and  returned 
to    political    life    as    Member   for    Edinburgh  in  1839,  and  as! 
Secretary    at  War  in    Lord    Melbourne's   Cabinet    in  the  same 
year.     In    1846    he  took    office  as    Paymaster    of   the    Forces,; 
and  was  re-elected  M.  P.  for  Edinburgh  ;  but  in  the  next  gene-; 
ral    election    he  lost   his  seat,    chiefly   for  having   supported  a 
grant  to  the    Roman  Catholic    Maynooth  College.     In  1852  he 


MACAULAY.  407 

was  returned  again  for  Edinburgh,  though  he  took  no  steps  to 
forward  his  election.  In  1849  he  was  elected  Lord  Rector  of 
Glasgow  University.  A  severe  illness  in  1852  weakened  his 
health,  and  in  1852  he  retired  from  Parliamentary  work 
altogether. 

About  this  time  Macaulay  wrote  his  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome 
1  Lays  of  Ancient  ( 1842),  inspired  partly  by  memories  of  a 
visit  he  made  to  Italy  on  his  return  from 
India.  In  these  Lays  he  makes  the  early  history  of  Rome  so 
vivid  and  pictorial,  with  all  the  ring  and  fire  of  ballad  poetry, 
as  to  delight  the  most  careless  school-boy,  though  some  fasti- 
dious modern  critics  deny  that  they  are  poetry  at  all. 

In   1845  Macaulay  ceased  to  write  for  the  '  Edinburgh  '  and 

History  of  Eng-       devoted  himself  to    his    History    of  England. 

land";  death.  The    first    twQ  volumes  appeared  in  1848  ;  the 

third  and  fourth  in  1855  ;  the  unfinished  fifth  volume  in  1861 
after  his  death.  He  also  wrote  articles  for  the  Encyclopaedia 
Britannica  on  Atterbury,  Bunyan,  Goldsmith,  Johnson,  and  Pitt. 
In  1857  he  was  created  Baron  Macaulay  of  Rothley,  and  was 
elected  a  foreign  associate  of  the  French  Academy  of  Moral  and 
Political  Sciences.  Later  on  he  received  the  Prussian  Order 
of  Merit.  Towards  the  end  of  his  life  he  suffered  much  from 
asthma  and  heart-weakness,  but  worked  on  with  undaunted 
courage.  He  died  December  28,  1859  at  Holly  Lodge,  Ken- 
sington, and  was  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

Though    Macaulay    never   married,  the  most  striking  illust- 
character  :  ration  of  his  personal  worth  is  perhaps   to   be 

(i)  As  a  man.  found    in   the   depth    and   persistency   of   his 

domestic  affections.  His  sister  insisted,  after  her  marriage 
with  Trevelyan,  on  retaining  him  as  an  inmate  of  her  new 
household — a  somewhat  severe  test  of  sisterly  love.  And 
Macaulay's  biography,  written  by  her  son,  George  Otto  Trevel- 
yan, gives  clear  proof  of  the  deep  impression  made  upon  the 
author's  mind  by  his  uncle's  unselfish  and  affectionate  charac- 
ter. Macaulay  was  a  devoted  son,  a  true-hearted  brother, 
a  loyal  friend,  wholly  uncorrupted  either  by  popularity  or 
power.     Sydney    Smith  truly  said  that  'You  might  lay  ribbons, 


408  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

stars,  garters,  wealth,  titles  before  him  in  vain.  He  has  an 
honest,  genuine  love  for  his  country,  and  the  world  could  not 
bribe  him  to  neglect  her  interests.'  The  defects  in  his  charac- 
ter were  precisely  those  which  are  so  plain  in  his  writings  :  an 
easy  optimism,  too  prone  to  rest  satisfied  with  external  evi- 
dences of  human  progress. 

As  a  writer  Macaulay  was  morally  and  intellectually  the 
(2)  As  a  writer.  exact  antithesis  of  Carlyle.  Saintsbury  divides 
his  work  into  verse,  prose  essays,  and  history. 
'  In  all  three  he  was  eminently  popular  ;  and  in  all  three  his 
popularity  has  brought  with  it  a  reaction,  partly  justified,  partly 
unjust.  The  worst  brunt  of  this  reaction  has  fallen  upon  his 
verse.  A  poet  of  the  very  highest  class  Macaulay  was  not ; 
his  way  of  thought  was  too  positive,  too  clear,  too  destitute 
either  of  mystery  or  of  dream,  to  command  or  to  impart  the 
true  poetical  mirage,  to  "make  the  common  as  if  it  were  not 
common."  In  essay-writing  he  regards  Macaulay  as  quite 
supreme  in  his  own  kind.  His  Essays  are  almost  all  famous, 
and  all  deserve  their  fame.  'Their  defects  are  serious  enough. 
The  system  (of  reviewing),  which  Macaulay  did  not  invent  but 
carried  to  perfection,  of  regarding  the  particular  book  in  hand 
as    a  starting-point  from  which  to  pursue  the  critic's  own  views 

of  the  subject,  inevitably  leads  to  unfairness He  had  strong 

prejudices  and  the  vindication  of  these  prejudices,  rather  than 
the  exposition  and  valuation  of  the  subject,  was  what  he  had 
first  at  heart.  He  had  the  born  advocate's  inclination  to 
suppressio  veri  and  suggestio  falsi,  and  he  has  a  heavy  account 
to  make  up  under  these  heads.  The  characteristics  of  the 
Essays  reproduce  themselves  on  a  magnified  scale  in  the 
History.  The  width  of  study  and  the  grasp  of  results  become 
altogether     amazing    and    little    short    of    miraculous    in    this 

enlarged     field And      Macaulay    was    practically    the    first 

historian  who  took  the  trouble  to  inspect  the  actual  places  with 
the  zeal  of  a  topographer  or  an  antiquary.  This  has  added 
greatly  to  the  vividness  and  picturesque  character  of  his 
descriptions,  and  has  often  resulted  in  a  distinct  gain  to  histori- 
cal knowledge.'     Bagehot's  verdict  is    that  'the  striking  quality 


MACAULAY.  409 

of  his  writings  is  the  intellectual  entertainment  which  they 
afford.  He  has  fancy,  sense,  abundance  ;  he  appeals  to  both 
fancy  and    understanding.     There    is  no   sense  of  effort.     His 

books    read    like  an    elastic  dream And   no  one  describes 

so  well  the  spectacle  of  a  character.  But  he  is  too  omniscient ; 
everything  is  too  plain  ;  all  is  clear  ;  nothing  is  doubtful.  The 
great  cause  of  this  error  is  an  abstinence  from  practical  action. 
Macaulay's  party-spirit  is  another  consequence  of  his  positive- 
ness.  When  he  inclines  to  a  side,  he  inclines  to  it  too  much.' 
The  fact  is  Macaulay  is  a  rhetorician,  whose  business  it  is  to 
convince.  Hence,  with  his  short  sentences,  he  is  absolutely 
clear,  full  of  illustrations  and  allusions,  drawn  from  his  wide 
and  vast  erudition  ;  there  are  no  half  tones  ;  everything  is 
depicted  in  broad,  plain  strokes  :  William  of  Orange  is  the 
highest  type  of  ruler,  Boswell  is  the  meanest  of  mankind. 


QUOTATIONS. 

The  dust  and  silence  of  the  upper  shelf.     Milton. 

As  civilisation  advances,  poetry  almost  necessarily  declines.     Lb. 

In  enterprises  like  theirs  parsimony  is  the  worst  profusion 
Hallanfs  Constitutional  History. 

The  gallery  in  which  the  reporters  sit  has  become  a  fourth 
estate  of  the  realm.     lb. 

We  know  no  spectacle  so  ridiculous  as  the  British  public  in  one 
of  its  periodical  fits  of  morality.     Moore's  Life  of  Byron. 

There  is  not  a  forward  boy  at  any  school  in  England  who  does 
not  know  that  the  marquis  was  hanged.1  BoswelPs  Life  of  Johnson. 

An  acre  in  Middlesex  is  better  than  a  principality  in  Utopia. 
Lord  Bacon. 

She  (the  Roman  Catholic  Church)  may  still  exist  in  undimi- 
nished vigour,  when  some  traveller  from  New  Zealand  shall,  in 
the  midst  of  a  vast  solitude,  take  his  stand  on  a  broken  arch  of 
London  Bridge  to  sketch  the  ruins  St.  Paul's.  Liafike's  History 
of  the  Popes. 


1  Cf.  Swift,  The  Country  Life  :— 

'  Oh  how  our  neighbour  lifts  his  nose 
To  tell  what  every  schoolboy  knows.' 


410  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

He  was  a  rake  among  scholars,  and  a  scholar  among  rakes. 
Aikiris  Life  of  Addison. 

Then  out  spake  brave  Horatius, 
The  Captain  of  the  Gate  : 
"To  every  man  upon  this  earth 

Death  cometh  soon  or  late  ; 
And  how  can  man  die  better 

Than  facing  fearful  odds, 
For  the  ashes  of  his  fathers, 

And  the  temples  of  his  Gods  ?  "  Lays,  Horatius,  St.  27. 

With  weeping  and  with  laughter 
Still  is  the  story  told, 
How  well  Horatius  kept  the  bridge 
In  the  brave  days  of  old.     lb.  St.  70. 

He  felt  towards  those  whom  he  had  deserted  that  peculiar 
malignity  which  has  in  all  ages  been  characteristic  of  apostates. 
History  of  England,  Chap.   1. 

The  Puritan  hated  bearbaiting,  not  because  it  gave  pain  to  the 
bear,  but  because  it  gave  pleasure  to    the    spectators.     lb.  Chap.  2. 

It  is  possible  to  be  below  flattery,  as  well  as  to  be  above  it.     lb. 

There  were  gentlemen  and  there  were  seamen  in  the  navy  of 
Charles  the  Second.  But  the  seamen  were  not  gentlemen,  and  the 
gentlemen  were  not  seamen.     lb.  Chap.  3. 


TENNYSON  (1809-1892). 

Alfred,    Lord   Tennyson,  was  born  August  6,  1809  at  Som- 
ersby  in  Lincolnshire,  a  small  village  where  his 
surrrohundidngrr,Y      father  was  Rector.     The  Rectory  with  its   old- 
fashioned     garden,    pictured   so    well    in   the 
Ode  io  Meviory  and  In  Memoriam,  was  the  poet's  home  for  the 
first  twenty-eight  years  of  his  life.     The  surrounding  neighbour- 
hood   presents   great  varieties  of  scenery — the  'gray  old  grange 
and  lonely    fold,'    the    'low    morass   and   whispering  reed,'  the 
'simple  stile  from  mead  to  mead,'  and  the    'sheepwalk   up   the 
windy  wold'1 ;  and  further  away, 

'Stretched  wide  and  wild  the  waste  enormous  marsh, 

Where  from  the  frequent  bridge, 

Like  emblems  of  infinity, 

The  trenched  waters  run  from  sky  to  sky.'  " 

The  near  sea-coast  has  special  characteristics,  and  seems  to  have 
deeply  impressed  the  young  poet's  imagination.  The  Tenny- 
sons  always  spent  their  summer  holidays  by  the  sea,  usually 
at  Mablethorpe,  where  no  doubt  he  often  heard  and  saw  what 
he  afterwards  so  vividly  described,  when, 

'The  crest  of  some  slow-arching  wave, 
Heard  in  dead  night  along  that  table  shore, 
Drops  flat,  and,  after,  the  great  waters  break 
Whitening  for  half  a  league,  and  thin  themselves, 
Far  over  sands  marbled  with  moon  and  cloud, 
From  less  and  less  to  nothing.'  3 

Alfred    Tennyson    was    the    fourth    child    of    a    family     of 
.,   ...  twelve,    eight    sons    and    four   daughters,  who 

Family  life.  '         °  ° 

formed  a  little  social  world  of  their  own. 
Alfred's  next  brother,  Charles,  became  a  clergyman  and  wrote 
sonnets   of    considerable    merit.     Of    his   sisters,    the    second, 

1  In  Memoriam,  C.  -  Ode  to  Memory,   V. 

3   The  Last  Tournament,  461-6. 


412 


A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 


Emily,  and  the  youngest,  Cecilia,  are  of  literary  interest.  The 
first  was  engaged  to  Arthur  Henry  Hallam,  son  of  the  historian 
and  the  subject  of  In  Memoriam  ;  while  the  'marriage  lay'  of 
the  other,  who  wedded  Edmund  L.  Lushington,  forms  an 
epilogue  to  that  poem.  In  the  Memoir  of  Tennyson,  by  his 
son,  there  is  a  beautiful  picture  of  their  family  life :  little 
Alfred  sitting  surrounded  by  his  younger  brothers  and  sisters, 
while  in  the  winter  firelight  he  fascinates  the  little  group  with 
tales  of  knights  and  demons,  dragons  and  distressed  damsels. 
In  the  summer  he  spent  most  of  his  time  in  out-of-door  games 
and  rambles.  He  had  the  run  of  their  father's  large  library, 
and  thus  became  familiar  with  many  of  the  great  writers.  To  a 
large  extent  his  father  was  his  tutor.  From  him  he  learned  all 
he  knew  of  languages,  mathematics,  the  fine  arts,  and  natural 
history,  till  he  went  to  Cambridge. 

Tennyson  had  a  great  love  for  animals,  and  a  keen   interest 
in  natural  history.      He  would  brave  the  wrath 

Fondness  for  »  .,  •    1  i  ,  ... 

animals.  or  the  neighbouring  gamekeepers  by  springing 

their  traps  ;  for  he  could  not  bear  to  think  of 
the  long  hours  of  torture  endured  by  bird  or  beast,  pinioned 
by  a  crushed  limb,  with  no  release  but  the  murderous  advent 
of  the  keeper.  This  sympathetic  instinct  shows  itself  in  those 
lines  of  Geraint  and  Enid  where  he  tells  how  the  helpless  Enid 

'Sent  forth  a  sudden,  sharp,  and  bitter  cry 

As  of  a  wild  thing  taken  in  the  trap, 

Which  sees  the  trapper  coming  thro'  the  wood.' 

He  brought  a  young  owl  to  his  attic  window  one  night  by 
answering  its  cry,  and  succeeded  in  turning  it  into  a  household 
pet.  And  he  would  spend  long  nights  with  the  shepherd  on 
the  wold,  watching  the  sheep  and  the  stars.  The  latter  all  his 
life  long  had  a  great  fascination  for  him,  as  every  reader  of 
Maud  will  have  noticed.  Wherever  he  lived,  he  liked  to 
have  some  way  of  access  to  the  roof ;  and  after  a  midnight 
talk  with  his  visitors,  he  would  take  them  up  for  a  look  at 
Orion,  the  Pleiades,  or  the  'barren  square'  of  Pegasus,  before 
he  bade  them  good-night. 


TENNYSON.  413 

When  Tennyson  was  seven  years  old,  he  was  sent  to  live 
At  school  at  with  his  grandmother  at  Louth,  that  he  might 
bLy°two  VrofheTs5.'  attend  the  Grammar  School  where  his  experi- 
ences were  not  happy. 

After  four  years  he  returned  home,  and  his  education  was 
carried  on  by  his  father  with  some  help  from  outside.  He  and 
his  brothers  had  a  very  free  life  at  home  :  not  over-burdened 
with  lessons,  plenty  of  open-air  amusements,  and,  indoors, 
wood-carving,  clay-modelling,  with  endless  story-telling  and 
writing  of  original  poems.  These  were  composed  mainly  by 
Charles  and  Alfred,  a  few  being  by  Frederic.  At  a  loss  for 
pocket-money,  the  brothers  took  their  MSS.  to  Mr.  Jackson,  a 
Louth  bookseller,  who  gave  them  £zo  for  the  book,  which  was 
published  in  1827,  and  republished  in  1893.  It  is  interesting 
chiefly  as  showing  how  the  writers  had  been  influenced  by  Scott 
and  Moore,  but  especially  by  Byron.  The  last  was  the  young 
Alfred's  idol  :  on  hearing  of  his  death,  he  carved  on  a  rock  the 
word's'Byron  is  dead,'  and  the  whole  world  seemed,  as  he  tells 
us,  to  be  darkened  for  him. 

In  February  1828  Tennyson  matriculated  at  Trinity  College, 
. .  _      .   .  .  Cambridge.     Here  he  soon    became    intimate 

At  Cambridge.  ° 

with  most  of  the  men  of  the  time  who  were 
afterwards  distinguished  in  literature,  art,  politics,  or  the 
Church.  He  became  a  member  of  a  society  founded  by 
Carlvle's  friend  Sterling,  a  sort  of  informal  debating  club, 
called  the  'Apostle,'  because  theoretically  limited  to  a  member- 
ship of  twelve.  The  meetings  were  strictly  private,  and  topics 
of  every  kind  were  discussed.  Thus  in  one  debate  on  the 
question,  'Is  an  intelligible  First  Cause  deducible  from  the 
phenomena  of  the  Universe  ?'  Tennyson's  vote  is  'no'  a  nega- 
tion which  is  expanded  in  In  Memoriam,  CXXIV,  St.  2.  These 
debates,  no  doubt  somewhat  idealised,  are  described  in 
LXXXVII,  St.  6-10,  of  that  poem,  the  'master-bowman'  being 
Hallam,  who  became  Tennyson's  dearest  friend. 

In    1829    Tennyson    won    the  Chancellor's  gold  medal  for 

rimbuctoo'  English   Verse    with   Timbuctoo,    which  was  a 

rechauffe   of   an   earlier   piece  that  he  had  by 


414  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

him,  The  Battle  of  Armageddon.  This  poem  has  never 
been  included  among  his  published  works  ;  but  it  shows 
an  unusual  mastery  of  the  secrets  of  blank  verse 
form.  And  it  gives  in  half  a  dozen  powerful  lines  an 
account  of  what  appears  to  have  been  a  peculiar  faculty  in 
Tennyson — the  power,  claimed  by  all  oriental  mystics,  of 
getting  out  of  his  own  personality  into  a  conscious  oneness 
with  the  Infinite.  This  liability  to  an  ecstatic  trance  holds  an 
important  place  in  Tennyson's  poems  ;  we  meet  with  it  in 
The  Princess,  I  and  IV  ;  at  the  close  of  The  Holy  Grail  \  in 
sections  XCV  and  CXXII  of  hi  Memoriam  ;  and  above  all  in 
The  Ancient  Sage,  which  is  really  a  veiled  piece  of  auto- 
biography. 

In    1830     Tennyson     published  his  Poems,  chiefly  Lyrical, 

in  which  Mariana  in  the  Moated  Grange,  7 he 
'P0tynrSi'caL'ieflY        D),ivS    Swan    and    Claribel    were     the   most 

noticeable  poems.  They  shewed  that  a  poet 
of  unique  power  had  arisen.  One  thing  we  may  remark  at 
once :  that  Tennyson  continually  corrected  and  recorrected 
himself  in  successive  editions  of  his  poems,  and  usually  for  the 
better.  It  is  true  that  Milton  too  erased  and  altered  much  that 
he  had  written  ;  but  he  more  wisely  kept  his  poems  to  himself 
till  they  had  attained  their  final  perfection.  These  early  poems 
also  serve  to  show  how  studiously  Tennyson  accumulated  a 
vast  hoard  of  poetic  wealth  in  nature-studies  at  first  hand,  in 
choice  words  and  quaint  phrases  culled  from  old  English 
authors  or  adapted  from  the  Latin  or  Greek  classics ;  and 
•finally  in  varied  experiments  in  word-music  and  metrical  form. 
Their  main  defect  is  that  the  writer  had  not  as  yet  mastered 
the  art  of  concealing  art ;  one  can  get  behind  the  scenes  and 
see  how  the  poetical  effects  are  thought  out  and  elaborated. 

In  the  summer  of  the    same    year   Tennyson    accompanied 

Hallam  to  the  Pyrenees  with  money   supplies 

journey  to  the         for    tne    jnsurgent    general     Torriios,     who 

Pyrenees.  o  o  j      > 

had  risen  in  revolt  against  the  tyranny  of  King 
Ferdinand.     From    this  somewhat  Quixotic  adventure  they  re- 


TENNYSON.  415 

turned  safely,  stored  with  imperishable  memories  of  mountain 
scenery.  Part  of  ffinone  was  written  in  the  valley  of  Cauteretz  ; 
which,  when  revisited  thirty-one  years  afterwards,  inspired  one 
of  Tennyson's  loveliest  lyrics,  'All  along  the  valley',  and  after- 
echo  of  In  Memoriam. 

Tennyson   left  Cambridge  in  1831  without  taking  a  degree, 

Poems  (1S32)  anc*  in  ^arcft  °f tnat  year  nis  father  died.     By 

an  arrangement  made  with  Dr.  Tennyson's 
successor,  the  Tennysons  were  allowed  to  remain  undisturbed 
in  the  Rectory  for  the  next  six  years.  In  1832  were  published 
his  Poems,  containing  such  splendid  work  as  The  Dream  of 
Fair  Women,  CEnone,  The  Lady  of  Shaloti,  The  Lotos-Eaters, 
'I he  Palace  of  Art,  and  The  Miller's  Daughter — work  which  in 
some  respects  he  never  afterwards  surpassed.  Though  en- 
thusiastically received  by  discerning  critics,  the  book  was 
savagely  attacked  by  a  reviewer  in  the  'Quarterly.'  For  a  new 
type  of  poetry  had  undoubtedly  appeared  ;  and  the  public 
taste  in  England  is  obstinately  conservative.  Tennyson's 
sensitive  nature  felt  this  want  of  sympathy  so  keenly  that  he 
preserved  an  almost  unbroken  silence  for  the  next  ten  years. 
He  and  Arthur  Hallam  went  for  a  tour  up  the  Rhine  in  the 
u  ..     .    .  summer  of  1832.     In  1833  Hallam,    who   had 

Hallam  s  death.  °  JJ 

been  in  frail  health  for  some  time,  went  with 
his  father  to  the  Tyrol,  where  it  was  hoped  that  change  of  air 
and  scene  would  restore  him.  They  reached  Vienna;  and 
there  one  day  (September  13)  the  father  returning  from  a 
walk  found  his  son  dead  on  the  sofa — 

'  In  Vienna's  fatal  walls 
God's  finger  touched  him,  and  he  slept.'1 

He  was  buried  at  Clevedon,  January  3.  To  Tennyson  the 
sudden  news  came  as  a  crushing  blow  ;  for  some  time  the 
light  of  life  was  eclipsed.  The  Two  Voices,  a  modern  replica 
of  Hamlet's  soliloquy  on  suicide,  was  begun  under  the  shadow 
of  this  loss.    Gradually,  in  scattered  fragments,  the  In  Memori- 

1  In  Memoriam,  lxxxv,  St.  5. 


416  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITE  1  ;  ' I  1  1  E 

am    poems    came    to    him,    bringing    in    the    end    solace  and 
resignation. 

In  1837  the  Tennyson  family  left  Somersby    for    their   new 

home,    High  Beech,  in  Epping  Forest.     This 

Departure  from        removal  is  beautifully  described  in  In    Memo- 

bomersoy.  J 

riam,  sections  C — CV.  Tennyson  was  now 
working  at  his  own  poems  and  studying  Wordsworth.  Keats, 
and  Milton.  His  great  sorrow  found  relief  in  Shakespeare's 
Sonnets,  which  at  this  time  he  thought  superior  to  his  dramas. 
A  comparison  of  these  Sonnets  with  In  Memotiam  will  show 
how  deeply  Tennyson  was  influenced  byr  them.  Tennyson  also 
contributed  an  anonymous  poem,  'O  that  'twere  possible'  to  'The 
Tribute.'  This  poem  was  afterwards  expanded  into  Maud.  In 
183S  he  joined  the  Anonymous  Club,  which  included  Carlyle, 
Thackeray,  Macready,  and  Landor. 

It  was  not  till  the    two-volume    edition    of    his   poetry   was 
published    under    the    title    of  Poems  in  1842 

"Poems  (1842).  v 

that  Tennyson  really  became  known  to  the 
English  public.  These  volumes  contained  most  of  his  earlier 
poems,  carefully  revised,  with  new  ones  of  striking  merit, 
Morte  d*  Arthur,  Ulysses,  The  Two  Voices,  St.  Agnes'  Evet 
The  Palace  of  Art,  The  Gardener's  Daughter,  Dora,  Locksley 
Hall,  and  some  others.  One  result  of  this  popularity 
was  the  enlargement  of  his  circle  of  friends.  Carlyle 
sought  him  out,  exhorting  him  to  quit  poetry  for  Work 
and  Prose'  !  Rogers,  Dickens,  and  Elizabeth  Barrett  (afterwards 
Mrs.  Browning)  made  his  acquaintance,  and  later  on 
Wordsworth. 

About    this     time     Tennyson    was    induced    to    invest    his 
property  and  some  of  his  brothers'  and  sisters' 

Pension.  t-       r        j 

in  a  quasi-philanthropic  speculation.  It  failed, 
and  he  was  left  penniless.  So  severely  did  the  shock  prey 
upon  his  nerves  that  his  life  was  despaired  of ;  but  he  recovered 
after  a  course  of  hydropathic  treatment  at  Cheltenham.  His 
friends  used  their  influence  with  Sir  Robert  Peel,  and  a  pension 
of  ^200  was  conferred  upon  him. 


TENNYSON.  417 

The    Princess,    a    Medley,    was    published    in     1847.     The 
prologue  to  this  poem  had    been  suggested  by 

'  The  Princess.'  K.       ?.,,„..  .,      ,        .      fT        . 

a  lestival  of  the  Maidstone  Mechanics  Institute 
held  on  July  6,  1842  in  his  brother-in-law  Lushington's  grounds 
at  Park  Hall,  near  Boxley,  where  the  Tennysons  were  then 
living.  One  of  the  songs  in  it,  '  Come  down,  O  maid, 
from  yonder  mountain  height,'  was  composed  during  a  tour 
among  the  Swiss  Alps  in  company  with  Edward  Moxon,  his 
publisher.  A  second  edition  followed  in  1848  ;  but  the  distin- 
guishing charm  of  the  poem,  the  division  of  the  drama  into  acts 
by  exquisitely  appropriate  lyrics,  was  not  made  till  the  1850 
edition. 

Ever   since    Hal  lam's    death    Tennyson  had  in  a  somewhat 

desultory   fashion     been     engaged    upon    the 

'  In  Memoriam'  ;  .  f  ,  .    ,  ,  ,-      „, 

marriage.  series  oi  poems  which  make  up  in  Memoriam 

(1850).  On  this  poem  Moxon  advanced  ^"300  ; 
and  Tennyson  at  last  was  able  to  marry  Emily  Sellvvood,  the 
subject  of  his  sonnet,  The  Bridesmaid,  written  in  1836,  when 
Charles  Tennyson  married  her  sister  Louisa.  Part  of  their 
honeymoon  was  spent  at  Lynton,  Glastonbury,  where  the  first 
germ  of  The  Holy  Grail  came  to  him.  Mrs.  Tennyson  proved 
a  perfect  wife,  screening  her  sensitive  husband  from  rough 
contact  with  the  world's  jealousies,  and  always  ready  with 
sympathetic  help. 

In   November    1850    Tennyson    accepted    the  post  of  Poet 

Laureate,  vacant  by    Wordsworth's    death.     In 

Laureatesnip  ;         July  18=51,    he  and    his  wife  went  for  a  tour  in 

'  The  Daisy.'  J      J  J 

Italy,  during  which  they  stayed  with  his 
eldest  brother  Frederick  in  Florence,  returning  by  Paris,  where 
they  met  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browning.  This  tour  has  been 
immortalised  in  The  Daisy,  a  perfect  gem  among  Tennyson's 
poems.  It  is  written  in  a  new  and  original  metre,  of  which 
there  is  a  variant  in  the  verses  To  the  Rev.  F.  D.  Maurice. 

In  August  1852  Tennyson's  eldest  son    Hallam    was  born  ; 

and  in  November  was  published  the  Ode  on  the 

death    of  the    Duke  of    Wellington,  one  of  his 

finest  efforts,  in  which  the  'iron  duke'    stands  as  the    symbol  of 

27 


418  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

patriotism  and  duty.  About  this  time  Tennyson,  like  many 
other  Englishmen,  keenly  distrusted  France  under  the  new 
Napoleanic  regime.  In  this  spirit  he  wrote  two  patriotic 
poems  published  in  'The  Examiner,'  Britons  guard  your  own, 
and  Hands  all  round.  By  1854  England  and  France  had 
become  allies  in  the  Crimean  War  ;  one  of  the  incidents  in 
which  was  celebrated  by  the  Laureate  in  his  memorable 
Charge  0/  the  Light  Brigade,  of  whose  merit  one  proof  is  the 
enthusiasm  it  roused  among  the  soldiers  themselves.  Its 
companion  poem,  The  Charge  of  the  Heavy  Brigade,  was 
published  in  1882.     Riflemen  form  appeared  in  1859. 

In  1853  Tennyson  settled  in  the  house  and  farm  of  Farring- 
ford,  in  the  Isle  of  Weight.  In  July  1855 
Maud  was  published,  soon  after  he  had 
received  at  Oxford  the  honorary  degree  of  D.C.L.  The  enthu- 
siam  with  which  he  was  welcomed  on  that  occasion  strangely 
contrasted  with  the  storm  of  ignorant  abuse  which  was  showered 
upon  the  new  poem.  It  was  ably  defended  by  Dr.  Mann  who 
pointed  out  that  the  poem  was  meant  to  be  dramatic  and  not  an 
exposition  of  Tennyson's  own  beliefs.  To  guard  against  this 
misapprehension,  the  title  in  all  subsequent  editions  was 
expanded  into  Maud,  a  Monodrama.  Seldom  has  popular 
criticism  been  more  wide  of  the  mark.  But  it  deeply  wounded 
Tennyson's  feelings,  and  he  remained  silent  for  several  years, 
meditating  upon  and  trying  experiments  in  the  Arthurian 
legends. 

In  1859  Tennyson  made  public  the  result  of  these  experi- 
ments in  his  Idylls  of  the  King  {Enid  Vivien, 
•  idylls    of   the        Elaine,    and      Guinevere),    four    narratives    in 

King.'  '  " 

blank  verse,  each  throwing  its  own  special 
light  on  the  central  theme,  King  Arthur's  ideal  society,  his 
knights  of  the  Round  Table.  These  Idylls  were  welcomed  by 
the  public  for  their  individual  merits,  as  exquisite  studies 
of  four  types  of  womanhood,  rather  than  as  parts  of  a  national 
epic.  Tennyson  afterwards  added  eight  more  idylls  published 
at  different  dates,  and  placed  the  whole  of  them  finally  in  the 
following  order  with  the  following  titles  : — 


TENNYSON.  419 

The  Coming  of  Arthur  (1869),   forming  a  prologue  or  introduction. 
Gareth  and Lynelte  (1872),  an  allegorizing  tale  of  the  earlier  happy 

times  in  Arthur's  Court. 
The  marriage  of  Geraint  \     OSso^,1  a  picture  of  the  pure  and  loyal 
Geraint  and  Enid  J  wife   who  by   her   sweet    meekness    re- 

deems her  wayward  and  jealous  husband. 
Balin  and  Balan   (1885),   the  story   of  two   brothers,    whose  tragic 

death  is  brought  about  by    Vivien's  malice  through  the  scandal 

about  the  Queen. 
Merlin  and  Vivien    (1859),    telling  how  the  cunning  Vivien  entices 

the  great  wizard  Merlin  to  his  doom. 
Lancelot  a?id  Elaine   (1859),    a  type  of  sweet  girlish  innocence  who 

might  have  been  the  salvation  of  Lancelot  but  for  his  guilty  love 

for  the  Queen. 
The  Holy    Grail  (1869),    a  legend  of  the    Cup  of  the  Last  Supper, 

supposed    to    have    been    brought  to    Glastonbury  by  Joseph  of 

Arimathaea. 
Pelleas  and  Etlarre   (1869),    a   study    of  the  moral  corruption  in 

Arthur's  Court  caused  by  Guinevere's  disloyalty. 
The   Last    Tournament   (1872),    a  powerful  description  of  the  final 

downfall  of  the  Round  Table  and  the  Court. 
Guinevere   (1859),  the  guilty  Queen  in  her  last    remorseful  meeting 

with  her  lord,  before  he  rides  away    to  the  battle   that  is  to  end 

his  work  and  his  life. 
The  Passing  of  Arthur  (1869),2  forming  an  epilogue. 

A    new   edition  of  these  Idylls  (1862),  with  a  dedication  to 

the  Prince  Consort,  led  to  Tennyson's  presen- 

■  Enoch  Arden  :        tation    in  person   to  the    Queen,    who  thence- 

Aylmer's  Field.'  r  ^  ' 

forward  became  an  attached  friend.  His 
popularity  was  further  increased  by  the  publication  in  1864  of 
Enoch  Arden  ;  Sea  Dreatns,  a  domestic  idyll ;  Aylmer's  Field,  a 
tragic  story  of  true  love  crossed  by  pride  of  caste  ;  and  the 
Northern  Farmer,  Old  Style,  a  vivid  monodrama  in  dialect. 
Tennyson's  mother  died  at  Hampstead  in  1865.  He  now 
bought  an  estate  near  Haslemere  in  Surrey,  where  his  house 
'Aldworth'  was  built, 

1  Originally  one   poem,    Geraint  and  Enid  ;  the  division  was  made 
in  1888. 

2  In  this  Idyll  is  included  Morte  d' Arthur. 


420  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

In    1869,    Tennyson    published,    along   with    the  four  new 
.    ,     _,         Arthurian   idylls,    Lucretius,  powerful  study  of 

'Lucretius' ;    'The  J  r  J 

Higher  a    sceptic's    suicide  :    The  Higher  Pantheism  ; 

Pantheism.'  r  * 

The  Golden  Supper,  the  conclusion  of  an 
earlier  poem,  The  Lover's  Tale,  which  Tennyson  had  written 
before  he  went  to  Cambridge,  and  had  printed,  but  afterwards 
suppressed ;  and  the  Northern  Farmer,  New  Style,  another 
dialect  poem.  These  with  some  smaller  poems  completed  the 
volume,  which  however  did  not  prove  so  popular  as  its  prede- 
cessor. In  this  year  Tennyson  was  elected  Honorary  Fellow 
of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 

Tennyson    now   applied  his  powers  in  a  new  direction,  and 
began    a   persistent    struggle    against  the  true 

Dramas. 

bent  of  his  genius  by  determining  to  win 
success  as  a  dramatic  poet,  with  a  view  to  the  elevation  of  the 
modern  stage.  In  this  struggle  he  for  the  most  part  failed,  but 
he  continued  it  bravely  to  the  end  of  his  days,  and  did  in  fact 
attain  some  posthumous  success.  His  natural  gifts  were  essen- 
tially lyrical,  or  at  best  monodramatic.  He  overlooked  the  fact 
that  even  Shakespeare  had  to  serve  a  long  apprenticeship  to  the 
detail  drudgery  of  the  stage  ;  and  without  a  tithe  of  Shakes- 
peare's dramatic  instinct  he  attempted  to  continue  that  poet's 
great  historical  dramas  with  no  practical  knowledge  of  stage- 
craft. Failure  to  a  great  extent  was  inevitable.  Of  this  series 
of  historical  plays  Queen  Mary  was  published  in  1875  and 
staged  by  Irving  at  the  Lyceum  in  1876  ;  Harold  was  published 
in  1876,  but  never  acted;  Becket  was  published  in  1884  and 
produced  by  Irving  in  1893,  and  proved  one  of  his  greatest 
successes.  All  three  dramas  were  highly  praised  by  Browning, 
Aubrey  de  Vere.  G.  H.  Lewes,  Dean  Stanley,  and  Edward 
Fitzgerald.  The  historian  J.  R.  Green  said  that  all  his  re- 
searches had  not  given  him  'so  vivid  a  conception  of  the 
character  of  Henry  II  and  his  court.'  The  Foresters  was  brought 
out  in  New  York,  and  attracted  crowded  audiences.  A  short 
play,  The  Falcon,  was  produced  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal  in 
1879  and  was  well  received,  as  was  also  The  Cup  (1880), 
which  was  brought  out  by    Irving    at    the    Lyceum.     But    The 


TENNYSON.  421 

Promise  of  May  (1882),  produced  by  Mrs.  Bernard  Beere  at  the 
Globe  Theatre,  was  a  dismal  failure. 

In  1880  Tennyson  published  Ballads  and  other  Poems, 
a  volume  containing  Rizpah,  a  terribly  pathe- 
tic study  of  a  mother's  devotion ;  In  the 
Children's  Hospital,  a  touching  story  ;  and  the  immortal 
ballads,  The  Revenge  and  The  Defence  of  Lucknow.  The 
former  is  based  mainly  upon  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  account  of 
the  fight  between  a  single  ship,  the  Revenge,  commanded  by  Sir 
Richard  Grenville,  and  the  whole  Spanish  fleet  in  1 59 1 .  With 
this  splendid  ballad  may  be  compared  Campbell's  Battle  of  the 
Baltic  and  Drayton's  Battle  of  Agincourt.  This  volume  also 
comprises  De  Profundis,  a  speculation,  as  M.  Luce  remarks, 
on  the  genesis  of  the  soul  and  its  future  destiny.  The  poem 
forms  a  valuable  comment  on  two  lines  in  Crossing  the  Bar  : 

'When  that  which  drew  from  out  the  boundless  deep 
Turns  again  home.5 

Tennyson    moved    into  his  new  home  at  Aldworth  in  1874, 
and  thenceforward  lived  alternately  there    and 

Peerage. 

at  Farringford.  He  had  twice,  in  1873  and 
1874,  been  offered  and  had  declined  a  baronetcy.  In  1883  he 
went  for  a  voyage  with  W.  E.  Gladstone  round  Scotland  to 
Norway  and  Denmark.  During  this  voyage  Mr.  Gladstone 
arranged  to  offer  the  poet  a  peerage,  which  he  finally  accepted, 
and  on  March  n,  1884  he  entered  the  House  of  Lords  as 
Baron  Tennyson  of  Aldworth  and  Farringford.  He  never 
spoke  in  the  House,  but  voted  twice. 

Tiresias   and   other    Poems  appeared  in  1885.     It  contains 
the    magnificent  lines  To    Virgil  and  Locksley 
LaSdePa°thmS '  ^a^  Sixty  Years  After,  a  passionate,   mono- 

dramatic  denunciation  of  modern  decadence. 
In  1889  was  published  Demeter  and  Other  Poems  comprising 
a  dialect  story,  Owd  Roa  ;  Happy,  a  powerful  sketch  of  a  wife 
who  shares  the  lifelong  burial  of  her  leper  husband  ;  Romney's 
JZemorse,  a  study  of  the  conflict  between  Art  and  Love  ;  and 
concluding  with  the   incomparable   lyric,    Crossing   the   Bar. 


422  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

His  last  volume,  The  death  of  (Enone  (1892)  and  other  poems, 
was  brought  out  after  his  death.  It  contains  Kapiolani,  the 
story  of  a  chieftainess  who  converted  the  people  of  the  Sand- 
wich Islands  to  Christianity  by  defying  the  goddess  of  the 
volcanic  lake  of  fire,  Kilauea ;  and  The  Churchivarden  and 
the  Curate,  a  dialect  monodrama.  Tennyson  died  after  a  short 
illness  on  Thursday,  October  6,  1892  at  the  age  of  83. 
He  was  buried  on  the  12th  in  Westminster  Abbey,  next  to 
Robert  Browning,  and  in  front  of  the  Chaucer  monument. 

Tennyson's  character  as  a  man  may  be  summed  up  in  one 
sentence  :  he  represents  at  its  best  the  cultured 

Tennyson  s  Cha-  .  .  -n       i-   i_  *i  t 

racten  nineteenth  century  English  gentleman.     Lovs 

of  order,  reverence  for  all  settled  institutions, 
purity  of  thought  and  life,  chivalrous  deference  to  womanhood, 
a  sober  acquiescence  in  established  religious  forms  and  ideas, 
combined  with  a  fearless  receptivity  towards  new  ideas  and 
scientific  criticism,  so  long  as  these  avoid  revolutionary  haste  ; 
a  sober  patriotism  and  above  all  a  deep  devotion  to  all  the 
sanctities  of  family  life  : — these  made  up  the  man,  and  these  are 
the  springs  of  his  poetic  inspiration.  From  his  earliest  years 
he  conscientiously  devoted  himself  to  his  mission  as  an  artist, 
and  throughout  his  life  he  kept  himself  up  to  the  highest  level 
of  capacity  by  systematic  study  of  all  that  is  best  in  literature, 
ancient  or  modern  ;  by  sympathetic  intercourse  with  cultured 
minds ;  and  above  all  by  constant,  keen-eyed  communion  with 
the  open-air  world  of  leaf  and  flower,  insect,  beast,  and  bird, 
sunrise  and  sunset,  sunshine  and  storm. 

Such  being  the  man  himself  and  such  being  the  essential 
characteristics  of  his  work,  it  is  easy  to  see  why 

(2)  As  a  poet :  .....  ,  ,  -j    1 

(a)  Represent-         he    was    and    still    is  so  popular  and  so  widely 

ative  of  his  age.  ,  ,  ,.  ,  .  TT  , 

read  by  English  people.  He  is  at  once  the 
product  and  the  representative  of  his  age.  His  first  Locksley 
Hall  is  the  mouthpiece  of  the  Liberalism  of  the  early  Victorian 
era  ;  his  later  Locksley  Hall  similarly  embodies  the  doubts  and 
distrust  of  the  Conservatism  of  the  compeers  of  his  declining 
age.  In  The  Princess  he  deals  with  a  social  problem  that  was 
then  beginning  to  make  itself  insistent,  the   changing   position 


TENNYSON.  423 

:  and  the  proper  sphere  of  woman  ;  and  he  deals  with   it   in    the 
;  same  spirit  of    hopeful    yet  cautious  tolerance.     The  scientific 
tendencies    and   religious  doubts  of    the  age  find  their  clearest 
i  utterance    and    their    ripest    solution    in    In    Memoriam,    The 
\  Two     Voices,    The    Higher  Pantheism,    and    The  Holy    Grail. 
Our  somewhat  reserved  national  feeling  finds  free  voice  in    the 
i  patriotic  poems  mentioned  above,  in  The  Defence  of  Lucknow, 
I  and  above  all  in  the  trumpet-toned  Revenge. 
I  •       But  though  Tennyson's  popularity  is  based   upon  a    corres- 
pondence between  his  own   reverence  for    Law 
per^tion0  and  tne  deepest  foundations  of  English  charac- 

ter, it  is  based  no  less  upon  his  delicate  power 
as  an  artist.  Among  the  elements  of  this  power  is  his  close 
observation  of  Nature,  which  furnishes  him  with  an  endless 
store  of  poetic  description  and  imagery  ;  his  scholarly  apprecia- 
tion of  all  that  is  most  picturesque  in  the  literature  of  the  past ; 
his  exquisite  precision  in  the  use  of  words  and  phrases  ;  all 
joined  with  an  expressive  harmony  of  rhythm. 

Connected  with  Tennyson's    close    observation    of    Nature 

is  his  scientific  insight.      He  is    pre-eminently 

(C)  fnCsignhtf,C  the  Poet  of  Science.     Tyndall  speaks    warmly 

of    the   debt    which  men  of  science  owe  to  his 

poems.    When  broken  down  in  health,  he  found  that  Tennyson's 

poems  had  quite  as  much  to  do  with  his  recovery  as  the   fresh 

mountain  air.     And  when  he  was  at  his  work,  he    found    them 

Tike  wine  to  his  intellect.'     For  indeed  Tennyson  revealed    in 

!  his    own    personality,  as  it  had  never  been  revealed  before,  the 

j  close  organic  connection  there  is  between  the  scientific  and  the 

!  imaginative  sides  of  the  human  mind. 

No  poet  has  ever  attained  to  such  a    complete    and    varied 
mastery   of   the    music    of    words.     This    he 

\     (d)  Word  music.  ,  ,  ,  t    .      ,  .  .. 

showed  at  the  very  outset,  in  his  earliest  poems 
j  such  as  Claribel  and  the  Dying  Swan  ;  and  this  he  sedulously 
■  cultivated  throughout  his  whole  career.  And  this  entrancing 
j  music  he  always  linked  with  a  subtle  suggestiveness  of 
j  thought.  Saintsbury  well  says  :  '  only  Milton,  with  Thomson 
|  as  a  far  distant  second,  had  impressed  upon  non-dramatic  blank 


424  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

verse  such  a  swell  and  surge  as  that  of  CEnone.  And  about 
all  these  different  kinds  and  others  there  clung  and  rang  a 
peculiar  dreamy  slow  music  which  was  heard  for  the  first  time, 
and  has  never  been  reproduced — a  music  which  makes  the 
stately  verses  of  The  Palace  of  Art  and  the  Dream  of  Fair 
Women  tremble  and  cry  with  melodious  emotion,  and  accom- 
plishes the  miracle  of  the  poet's  own  dying  swan  in  a  hundred 
other  poems  "  all  flooded  over  with  eddying  song."  ' 

Tennyson    preferred    short    poems  to  long  ;  indeed  brevity 
and  compression  is  one  secret  of   his    art.     A 

'  The  Princess.'  ,        -  ..  ...        . 

single  four-line  stanza  will  often  contain  as 
large  a  landscape  or  as  intricate  a  complexity  of  thought  as 
a  page  of  Byron  or  Scott.  And  as  a  rule  he  does  not  excel 
in  long  poems ;  there  is  seldom  a  complete  and  satisfactory 
unity  about  them.  '  Short  swallow-flights  of  song'  suited  his 
genius  best,  and  he  was  well  aware  of  the  fact.  His  best  long 
poem  is  The  P/incess,  best,  that  is,  as  regards  its  artistic  unity 
from  beginning  to  end.  It  is,  writes  Saintsbury,  '  undoubtedly 
Tennyson's  greatest  effort  in  a  vein  verging  towards  the  comic 
— a  side  on  which  he  was  not  so  well  equipped  as  the  other. 
Exquisite  as  its  author's  verse  always  is,  it  was  never  more 
exquisite  than  here,  whether  in  blank  verse  or  in  the  superadd- 
ed lyrics,  while  none  of  his  deliberately  arranged  plays  con- 
tains characters  half  so  good  as  those  of  the  Princess  herself 
(who  seeks  to  redeem  womanhood  by  founding  a  college  for 
their  education  wholly  apart  from  man),  of  Lady  Blanche  and 
Lady  Psyche  (her  friends,  the  college  tutors),  of  Cyril  (the 
Prince's  friend,  who  goes  with  him,  both  in  female  disguise,  as 
a  College  student,  and  by  his  half-tipsy  carelessness  betrays 
their  plot)  of  the  two  Kings  (the  father  of  the  Prince  and  the 
father  of  the  Princess)  and  even  of  one  or  two  others.  And 
that  unequalled  dream-faculty  of  his  enabled  him  to  carry  off 
whatever  was  fantastical  in  the  conception  with  almost  un- 
paralleled felicity.'  No  doubt  there  are  inconsistencies  in  the 
story,  situauons  which  are  obviously  impossible  or  out  of  keep- 
ing with  the  rest  ;  but  all  this  is  accounted  for  by  the  author's 
deliberate  choice  of  method.    He  calls  ic  '  A  Medley,'  and  such 


TENNYSON.  425 

it  is  ;  a  fantastical  mixture  of  medievalism  with  nineteenth 
century  ideals ;  an  outward  framework  of  tilts  and  tournaments 
and  old-world  chivalry,  and  yet  all  the  while  we  feel  that  the 
Prince  and  his  companions,  the  Princess  and  her  pupils,  are 
but  playful  or  half-serious  sketches  of  the  Cambridge  under- 
graduates and  the  Girton  girls  of  to-day.  The  worst  fault  of 
The  Princess  is  that  towards  the  end  the  poet  half  drops  his 
puppet-masks  and  preaches  a  somewhat  tedious  sermon, 
however  beautifully  phrased,  on  his  own  half-conventional 
theory  of  the  true  relation  between  the  sexes. 

In  writing  Maud   Tennyson  was  perhaps  hampered  by    his 
building    it    on    a    poem  already  written.      He 

Maud-  certainly    injured    its    chances    of    success   by 

making  it  a  kind  of  tractate  against  the  '  Manchester  School  ' 
of  'peace  at  any  price.'  And  though  he  afterwards  called  it 
a  'Monodrama,'  his  patriotic  songs,  more  especially  the 
Epilogue  to  the  Charge  of  the  Heavy  Brigade,  show  that  the 
sentiments  of  his  fictitious  hero  were  very  largely  his  own. 
The  central  doctrine  of  Maud  is  summed  up  in  one  verse,  in 
which,  after  dilating  on  all  the  horrors  of  our  mammon- 
worshipping  civilisation,  that  hero  says  :  — 

'  For  I  trust  if  an  enemy's  fleet  came  yonder  round  by  the  hill, 

And    the   rushing  battle-bolt  sang  from  the    three-decker  out  of 
the  foam, 

That  the  smooth-faced,  snub-nosed  rogue  would  leap   from    his 
counter  and  till, 

And  strike,  if  he  could,  were  it  but  with  his  cheating  yard-wand 
home.' 

It  would  be  difficult  to  find  in  English  literature  a  line 
more  musical  and  more  effective  than  the  second  of  the  above 
quotation  ;  it  would  be  equally  difficult  to  find  a  more  supercili- 
ous contempt  for  all  retail  tradespeople  than  is  concentrated  in 
the  third  line.  We  need  not  impute  this  contempt  to  Tennyson 
himself;  but  the  sequel  is  instructive.  Shakespeare  has  created 
a  hero  who  embodies  a  more  heroic  and  less  vulgar  disdain  for 
the  plebeian  herd;  but  Shakespeare  by  pure  drimatic  ar» 
shows  how  such  a   caste-centred    contempt    inevitably    brings 


426 


A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 


about,  both  inwardly  and  outwardly,  the  hero's  own  destruction, 
lennyson  shows  no  such  insight;  his  hero's  Nunce  dimittis 
is  an  ecstatic  welcome  to 

The  blood-red  blossom  of  war  with  a  heart  of  fire.' 

Maud  has  been  described  as  '  Tennyson's  worst  poem  but  finest 
poetry.'  Saintsbury  says  that  the  poet  '  has  never  done  more 
poetical  things  than  the  passage  "  Cold  and  clear-cut  face 
etc.";  than  the  prothalamium  "I  have  led  her  home"; 
than  the  incomparable  and  never-to-be-hackneyed  "  Come 
into  the  garden,  Maud  "  ;  or  than  the  best  of  all,  "  Oh  that 
'twere  possible."  It  may  even  be  contended  that  these  are 
the  absolute  summit  of  the  poet's  effort,  the  point  which, 
though  he  was  often  near  it,  he  never  again  quite  reached.' 
Two  passages  in  Maud  are  classical  instances  of  Tennyson's 
imaginative  application  of  his  close  observation  of  Nature. 
The  hero  says  that  he  knows  the  way  his  lady  went, 

'  Her  feet  have  touched  the  meadows 
And  left  the  daisies  rosy.' 

A  daisy  usually  is  almost  entirely  white  on  its  upper  surface, 
but  the  sides  of  each  petal  are  deep  pink.  Thus  in  its  natural 
position  it  looks  white,  but  when  trodden  on  it  seems  to  turn 
'  rosy.'     The  other  passage  is  : 

'  Birds  in  the  high  Hall-garden 

When  twilight  was  falling, 
Maud,  Maud,  Maud,  Maud, 

They  were  crying  and  calling.' 

Tennyson  was  especially  fond  of  reading  Maud  aloud  ;  and 
any  one  who  heard  his  deep,  rough  voice  in  the  third  line 
would  at  once  recognise  the  note  of  the  rooks. 

Enoch  Arden  is  perhaps  the  best  representative   of  a   series 
of    poems  which  their  author  originally  called 

<;Enoch  Arden.'  r  J 

'  Idylls  of  the  Hearth.  ihey  are  stories 
of  domestic  life  among  the  humbler  classes.  This  particular 
one.  a  dramatic  sketch  drawn  from  seaside  village  life,  involv- 
ing three  types  of  character — Enoch,  the  strong   heroic    sailor; 


TENNYSON.  427 

Philip  the  weak  but  affectionate  stay-at-home;  and  Annie, 
an  example  of  simple  commonplace  womanhood — gives  admir- 
able scope  for  Tennyson's  special  powers.  We  have  a  vivid 
picture  of  sea-faring  life  in  England  ;  and  contrasted  with  it,  a 
still  more  vivid  picture  of  the  gorgeous  scenery  of  the  tropics, 
where  the  shipwrecked  sailor  is  left  in  lonely  desolation.  The 
personal  situations — Annie  left  in  straitened  poverty  by  her 
husband's  shipwreck,  and  the  gradual  change  on  the  part 
of  Philip  from  an  unselfish  pitying  friendship  into  a 
somewhat  selfish  love,  as  the  belief  gains  ground  on  every 
side  that  Enoch  is  certainly  dead — provide  opportunities  for 
some  very  subtle  character-drawing  ;  as  does  still  more  the 
tragic  conclusion,  when  Enoch  returns  to  find  his  wife  married 
to  another,  and  settled  in  a  happy  home. 

Probably  the  greatest  and  the  most  enduring  of  all    Tenny- 
son's poems  is  In  Memoriam.     For  it  is  to  the 

'  In  Memoriam.'  .  r       „,,     .     .  , 

modern  conception  of  Christianity  what 
Paradise  Lost  was  to  the  faith  of  the  puritan.  It  is  the  uncon- 
scious autobiography  of  Tennyson's  own  religious  life.  But, 
apart  from  this,  it  has  a  unique  literary  value.  Nowhere  else 
can  we  find  such  a  perfect  fusion  of  artistic  beauty  with 
philosophic  thought ;  nowhere  else  can  we  find  scenes  so 
beautiful  suffused  with  such  vivid  emotion.  One  instance 
(from  Section  XI)  may  suffice  to  illustrate  this  : 

'  Calm  on  the  seas,  and  silver  sleep, 

And  waves  that  sway  themselves  in  rest, 
And  dead  calm  in  that  noble  breast, 

Which  heaves  but  with  the  heaving  deep.' 

Tennyson  for  some  time  believed  that  he  had  invented  this 
special  metrical  form.  He  did  not  know  that  Lord  Herbert  of 
Cherbury  had  used  it  in  the  seventeenth  century.  But  in 
reality  Tennyson  did  make  it.  He  did  for  this  peculiar  quat- 
rain what  Milton  did  for  blank  verse ;  he  made  it  a  poetic 
instrument  of  the  most  wonderful  flexibility  and  variety.  Of 
course  this  poem  is  not  the  last  word  that  can  be  spoken  on  the 
themes,  scientific,  religious,  and  philosophical,  with  which  it 
deals.  The  poet  frankly  acknowledges  this  (XLV1II)  ;  nay    he 


428  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE, 

himself  has  exemplified  the  fact  by  making  alterations  in  it  to 
suit  the  subsequent  changes  of  his  own  thought.  Its  most 
serious  defect  is  that  Tennyson  nowhere  seems  to  recognise 
the  truth  that  wholesale  death  and  perpetual  battle  are  the 
means  by  which  the  upward  progress  of  Evolution,  the 
'  Ascent  of  Man,'  is  secured.  That  '  Nature  red  in  tooth  and 
claw  with  ravin  '  does  not  '  shriek  against  the  creed  '  that  'God  is 
love,'1  is  precisely  what  Darwin  has  made  clear.  But  strangely 
enough  neither  in  In  Memoriam  nor  in  Maud*  does  Tennyson 
show  any  consciousness  of  this  fundamental  idea  of  modern 
science. 

The  Idylls  of  the    King    was    in    one     sense    the    work    of 
'idylls  of  the         Tennyson's  lifetime.     From  his  earliest   years 
K,ng'  he    had    studied    the    Arthurian    legends  and 

made  prose  sketches  of  them.  The  Lady  of  Shalott  in  the 
1832  volume  of  his  poems  is  an  earlier  version  of  Elaine  ;  and 
we  know  that  the  greater  part,  if  not  the  whole  of  Sir  Launcelot 
and  Queen  Guinevere  (1842)  was  written  in  1830.  We  also 
know  that  he  deliberately  intended  his  Idylls  to  be  an  allegory 
of  the  Ideal  Man— at  once  the  individual  and  the  race,  coming 
into  this  world  of  action  out  of  the  Unknown  and  returning  to 
the  Unknown.  Tennyson  himself  says  :  '  Camelot,  a  city  of 
shadowy  palaces,  is  everywhere  symbolic  of  the  gradual  growth 
of  human  beliefs  and  institutions,  and  of  the  spiritual  develop- 
ment of  man.'  It  is  perhaps  the  highest  praise  of  the  Idylls 
that  the  allegory  is  never  obtruded ;  in  fact  it  might  easily  be 
overlooked.  Regarded  as  an  epic,  the  poem  lacks  unity ; 
indeed  it  is  really  what  the  title  implies,  not  so  much  an  epic 
as  a  series  of  separate  idyllic  pieces,  all  more  or  less  connected 
with  a  central  theme.  Moreover  here,  as  in  The  Princess,  there 
is  the  same  blending  of  incongruous  ideals.  Tennyson's 
King  Arthur  and  Sir  Lancelot  belong  really  to  the  nineteenth 
century  ;  they  are  wholly  different  beings  from  the  flesh  and 
blood  heroes  of  Sir  Thomas  Malory's  Romance.  But 
Tennyson's  'dream-faculty'  carries  him  triumphantly    through  ; 


In  Mem.  LVI,  4.  *     Maud,  IV,  4. 


TENNYSON.  429 

his  world  is  a  wholly  different  world  from  that  of  Malory,  but 
in  its  own  way  it  is  as  real,  and  it  is  but  seldom  that  we  have 
an  uneasy  suspicion  that  in  Arthur  we  are  after  all  only  gazing 
upon  a  glorified  image  of  the  Prince  Consort.  Of  the  whole 
group  of  idylls  the  most  Homeric  is  the  earliest,  the  Morte  d' 
Arthur  fragment ;  while  for  spiritual  sublimity  The  Holy 
Grail  is  unrivalled  in  English  literature.  Dowden  points  out 
as  a  defect  in  the  Idylls,  that  Tennyson  has  no  sympathy  with 
the  nobler  aspects  of  the  mystical  religious  spirit :  'we  find 
nowhere  among  the  persons  of  his  imagination  a  Teresa, 
uniting  as  she  did  in  so  eminent  a  degree  an  administrative 
genius,  a  genius  for  action,  with  the  genius  of  exalted  piety.' 
But  while  it  is  true  that  Tennyson  strove  to  show  the  superiority 
of  the  life  of  action  to  the  life  of  contemplative  vision  both  by 
making  his  ideal  King  take  no  part  in  the  Quest  of  the 
Sangraal  and  by  the  King's  homily  to  that  effect  at  the  close 
of  that  idyll,  it  nevertheless  remains  true  that  the  poet  in  him 
overbore  the  moralist.  Tennyson  failed,  just  as  Milton  failed 
in  Paradise  Lost,  only  more  happily.  Milton's  splendid  genius 
left  Satan  rather  than  the  Almighty  as  the  centre  of  our 
sympathies  ;  and  certainly  no  one  can  read  The  Holy  Grail 
without  feeling  that  Galahad,  not  Arthur,  is  the  real  hero  of  the 
poem.  Nowhere  in  English  literature  is  there  a  more  richly 
beautiful  imaging  forth  of  the  unspeakable  glories  of  the 
heavenly  world  than  is  found  in  Galahad's  entry  into  the  far-off 
'spiritual  city.'  King  Arthur  is  most  kingly  and  most  heroic, 
not  in  the  latter  idylls,  when  Tennyson  had  begun  consciously 
to  allegorize,  and  moralize  but  in  his  earliest  and  most  Homeric 
work. 

QUOTATIONS. 

Thou  art  no  Sabbath  drawler  of  old  saws, 

Distilled  from  some  worm-cankered  homily.     To  J.  M.  K, 

Howe'er  it  be,  it  seems  to  me 

'Tis  only  noble  to  be  good. 

Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets, 

And  simple  faith  than  Norman  blood. 

Lady  Clara  Vera  de   Vere. 


430  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Where  Freedom  slowly  broadens  down 

From  precedent  to  precedent.      You  ask  me  why. 

And  God  fulfils  Himself  in  many  ways, 

Lest  one  good  custom  should  corrupt  the  world. 

Morte  (T  Arthur. 
In    the    spring  a  young  man's  fancy  lightly  turns  to  thoughts  of 
love.     Locksley  Hall. 

Love  took  up  the  harp  of  Life,  and  smote  on  all  the  chords 
with  might  ; 

Smote  the  chord  of  Self,  that,  trembling,  passed  in  music  out 
of  sight.     lb. 

With  a  little  hoard  of  maxims  preaching  down  a  daughter's 
heart.     lb. 

This  is  truth  the  poet  sings, 
That   a   sorrow's    crown    of   sorrow    is    remembering     happier 
things.     lb. 

Better  fifty  years  of  Europe  than  a  cycle  of  Cathay,  lb. 

But  O  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 

And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still  !  Break,  break,  break  ! 

We  are  the  ancients  of  the  earth, 

And  in  the  morning  of  the  times.     The  Day-Dream,  UEnvoi% 

Sweet  girl-graduates  in  their  golden  hair.      The  Princess. 

Jewels  five-words  long, 
That  on  the  stretch'd  forefinger  of  all  time 
Sparkle  for  ever.     lb. 

Tears,  idle  tears,  I  know  not  what  they  mean, 
Tears  from  the  depth  of  some  divine  despair 
Rise  in  the  heart,  and  gather  to  the  eyes, 
In  looking  on  the  happy  Autumn  fields, 
And  thinking  of  the  days  that  are  no  more.     lb. 
The  moan  of  doves  in  immemorial  elms, 
And  murmuring  of  innumerable  bees.     lb. 
And,  as  the  greatest  only  are, 

In  his  simplicity  sublime.     Duke  of  Wellington,  St.  4. 
Thank  Him  who  isled  us  here,  and  roughly  set 
His  Briton  in  blown  seas  and  storming  showers.     lb.  St.  7. 
Xut  once  or  twice  in  our  rough  island-story 
he  path  of  duty  was  the  way  to  glory.     lb.  St.   8. 


TENNYSON.  431 

Nor  tho'  the  soldier  knew 

Some  one  had  blundered  : 

Their's  not  to  make  reply, 

Their's  not  to  reason  why, 

Their's  but  to  do  and  die  : 

Into  the  valley  of  Death 

Rode  the  six  hundred.     Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade. 

Never  morning  wore 
To  evening  but  some  heart  did  break.    IirMemoriaw,  VI. 
The  Shadow  cloaked  from  head  to  foot, 
Who  keeps  the  keys  of  all  the  creeds.     lb.  XXIII. 
'Tis  better  to  have  loved  and  lost 
Than  never  to  have  loved  at  all.     lb.  XXVII. 
Oh  yet  we  trust  that  somehow  good 
Will  be  the  final  goal  of  ill.     lb.  LIV. 
Ring  in  the  Christ  that  is  to  be.     lb.  CVI. 
Gorgonized  me  from  head  to  foot 
With  a  stony  British  stare.     Maud,  Part  I,  13.  2. 
Wearing  the  white  flower  of  a  blameless  life, 
In  that  fierce  light  which  beats  upon  a  throne. 

Idylls  of  the  King,  Dedication. 
I  hope  to  ?ee  my  Pilot  face  to  face. 
When  I  have  crossed  the  bar.     Crossing  the  Bar. 


THACKERAY  (1811-1863). 

William  Makepeace   Thackeray,  one  of  the  great    novelists 

whose    work    is   based    upon  English  life  and 
Birth  aagdeParent'      manners,  was  born  in  Calcutta,  July  18,  1811. 

His  great-grandfather  was  head-master  of 
Harrow  ;  his  father  and  grandfather  were  both  in  the  service 
of  the  East  India  Company.  The  former  died  when  he  was 
five  years  old,  and  he  was  sent  to  England  to  live  with  an  aunt, 
Mrs.  Ritchie. 

At  eleven  years  old  he  went  to  the  Charterhouse,  where  he 
Educati  n  stayed  six   years.     His   earlier   writings    show 

that,  while  at  school,  he  suffered  a  good 
deal  from  the  brutality  then  universal  among  schoolboys  ; 
but  in  after  years  the  memory  of  his  school  days  grew 
mellower  in  imaginative  retrospect.  His  mother,  who  had 
married  again,  returned  from  India  with  her  husband  during 
these  Charterhouse  days,  and  settled  in  Devonshire  near  Ottery 
St.  Mary,  of  which  place  there  are  some  reminiscences  in 
Pendennis.  In  1829  Thackeray  entered  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge,  where  he  remained  two  years,  learning  something 
of  classical  literature,  and  a  good  deal  from  the  society  and 
associations  of  the  place ;  but  he  left  without  any  degree. 
Here  he  won  his  first  literary  success  in  a  University  periodical 
by  a  burlesque  parody  of  Tennyson's  prize  poem,  Timbuctoo. 
Continental    travel    filled    up  the  next  two  years  of  his  life. 

He    then    tried    the    Bar,   but  soon  gave  it  up 
StUp'aris.rt  'n         f°r    journalism  and  art.     Towards  the  end  of 

1833  he  joined  his  parents  in  Paris,  and  busied 
himself  with  the  study  of  painters  and  painting.  He  attempted 
unsuccessfully  to  secure  the  post  of  illustrator  to  the  Pickwick 
Papers.  He  was  also  a  prominent  contributor  to  '  Fraser's 
Magazine.' 


THACKERAY.  433 

In    1836    he    married    Isabella    Shawe,  the  daughter  of  an 
Indian  Colonel.     A  newspaper,  The  Conslitu- 

Marriage.  r    r      ' 

tional,  on  which  he  was  then  partly  dependent 

lor  his  income,  failed  six  months  afterwards,  and  in  its   failure 

•swallowed    up   the   fortune  both  of  Thackeray  and  his  parents. 

In  1837  he  moved  to  London,  where  he  wrote  for  'The  Times,' 

'Fraser's  Magazine,'  'The   New    Monthly,'    and    Cruikshank's 

'Comic    Almanack.'     Here,    between    1837    and     1840,   three 

daughters  were  born,  of  whom  the  eldest,  Mrs.  Ritchie,  became 

a  successful  novelist ;  the  youngest  married  the  brilliant   critic, 

Leslie  Stephen  ;  the  other  died  in  infancy.     His    wife's    health 

failed  after  1840,  and  his  home  for  a  time  was  broken  up.  The 

children  were  sent  to   their    grandmother    in    Paris,    while    he 

sought  in  vain  by  change    of    air    and    scene    to    promote    his 

wife's  recovery.     His  success  in  literature,  however,  became  so 

well    established,    especially   after    he    had    joined  the  staff  of 

'  Punch  '    in    1842    in  the  double  capacity  of  draughtsman  and 

writer,  that  in  1846   he    brought    his    family    from    Paris,    and 

settled  in  a  permanent  London  home. 

Thackeray's  first  book,  The  Paris  Sketch-book,   appeared  in 

M.  „ ...  1840;  in  1841,  Comic  Tales  and  Sketches,  con- 

Chief  Works  ^     ' 

taining  The  Yellowplush  Papers  from  'Fraser,' 
Major  Gahagan  from  'The  New  Monthly,'  and  The  Bedford 
Row  Conspiracy.  In  1841  also  The  Hoggarty  Diamond  and 
The  Shabby  Genteel  Story  came  out  in  'Fraser,'  in  which 
Barry  Lyndon  and  Mens  Wives  were  subsequently  published. 
The  Irish  Sketch-book  appeared  in  1843,  anc*  Cornhill  to  Cairo 
in  1846.  The  Book  of  Snobs  in  'Punch,'  with  his  Christmas 
book,  Mrs.  Perkins's  Ball  (1847),  roused  the  interest  of  the 
public;  and  his  great  novel  Vanity  Fair  (1847-48)  secured 
for  its  author  a  position  of  permanent  popularity,  and  divided 
the  public  into  two  rival  camps,  the  worshippers  of  Dickens 
and  the  worshippers  of  Thackeray.  The  History  of  Pendennis 
(1849-50),  a  partially  autobiographical  novel,  next  appeared, 
and  was  followed  in  1852  by  The  History  of  Henry  Esmond, 
perhaps  his  masterpiece.  Thackeray  had  met  with  great 
success  as  a  lecturer  in  1851  with  The  English  Humourists  of 
28 


484  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

The  Eighteenth  Ce?itury  which,  along  with  The  Four  Georges, 
he  afterwards  (1856)  delivered  in  America.  The  Netvcomes 
appeared  in  1853-55,  ana<  in  x  857-58  the  Virginians,  a  sequel 
to  Esmond. 

From  January  i860  to  April    1862    Thackeray    edited    the 

newly-founded   '  Cornhill  Magazine,'  to  which 
Con!hni°f  death,       he  continued  to  contribute  till  his  death.    The 

pain  of  refusing  MSS,  that  'thorn  in  the 
editor's  cushion'  was  the  cause  of  his  retirement.  In  it  was 
published  The  Four  Georges  (i860),  as  also  two  less  successful 
novels,  Lovel  the  Widoiver  (1861)  and  The  Adventures  of 
Philip  (1862);  the  latter  having  a  considerable  autobiographi- 
cal interest.  But  his  best  work  for  the  'Cornhill'  is  The  Round- 
about Papers  (1862),  in  which  he  struck  out  a  new  line,  taking 
his  readers  into  his  confidence  with  the  easy  charm  of  Montaigne. 
In  1862  Thackerary  removed  to  a  house  which  he  had  built 
on  Palace  Green,  Kensington.  Here  he  began  Denis  Duval, 
a  historical  novel  of  great  promise  ;  but  his  sudden  death, 
December  24,  1863,  left  it  a  mere  fragment.  He  was  buried 
in  Kensal  Green  Cemetery,  and  his  bust  was  placed  in  West- 
minster Abbey. 

Thackeray's    personal    character    has    been    unfortunately 

overshadowed  by  a  delusion,  springing  from  a 
d^AsTman.  misreading    of   his    novels,    that    he    was  of  a 

profoundly  cynical  nature.  False  as  this 
notion  is  from  a  merely  literary  point  of  view  (as  we  shall  see 
later),  as  applied  to  the  man  himself  it  is  simply  ridiculous. 
His  resignation  of  the  editorship  of  the  'Cornhill'  referred  to 
above  sufficiently  proves  this  ;  to  say  nothing  of  his  kindness 
to  young  and  struggling  authors,  and  the  tender  fidelity  of  his 
domestic  life. 

The    chief    charm    of    Thackeray    consists    in    a    subtle 
,_    .  „  blending    of    the    simplicity    and  tenderness 

(2)  As  a  writer.  °  f  J 

of  a  child  with  the  ironic  humour  of  the 
experienced  man  of  the  world.  In  his  books  written  for  the 
young,  such  as  The  Pose  and  the  Ping  (1855),  and  in  his 
ballads  there  is  the  entire  abandon,  the   whole-hearted    playful- 


THACKERAY.  435 

ness   of   one  who  delights    in   the  merry  laughter  of  children  ; 
though    he  knew  too    well  how    soon    the    innocence  of  youth 
loses   its   fresh  bloom   in   a   premature  worldliness.     But   his 
supreme    hatred  was   for    cant   and    hypocrisy  in  every   form. 
Here  he  is  at  one  with  Carlyle,    though  his  mode  of   attacking 
it   is    wholly   different.      George    Brimley   has    put   this   very 
clearly  :  'Mr.  Thackeray's    humour    does  not  mainly  consist  in 
the  creation  of  oddities  of  manner,    habit,  or  feeling  ;  but  in  so 
representing   actual    men    and    women    as  to  excite  a  sense  of 
incongruity    in   the    reader's    mind — a   feeling  that  the  follies 
and  vices  described  are    deviations    from  an  ideal  of    humanity 
always   present   to   the    writer. ..It    is   this  which   makes  him  a 
profound     novelist.'      Of      Thackeray's     so-called     cynicism 
Saintsbury   remarks  :  'of   all    the    innumerable   cants  that  ever 
were    canted,    the    cant   about   Thackeray's     "cynicism"   was 
the    silliest    and    the    most  erroneous.     He  knew  the  weakness 
of    man,     and     laughed     at     it     as     the     wise     knows     and 
laughs,    "knowing  also,"    as   the    poet    says,   "that  he   himself 
must  die."     But  he    did  not  even    despise  this  weakness,  much 
less  is  he  harsh  to  it.     On  the  contrary,    he  is  milder,  not  only 
than  Swift,    but    even   than  Addison  or  Miss  Austen,  and  he  is 
never  wroth  with  human    nature  save  when  it  is  not    only  weak 
but  base.'  Thackeray  does  not  excel  in  mere  story  or  plot.     He 
has  two  special  gifts  indispensable  to  the  novelist,  'an  incompar- 
able power  of  presenting  scene   and  personage  to  the  necessary 
extent  and  with  telling  detail',    and  the  faculty  of   'creating  and 
immortalizing  character.'  Neither    Thackeray  nor  Dickens  care 
much  about  the  development  of  the  plots  of  their  stories.     The 
plot  is  always  subordinate  to    the    character-drawing;  and  inci- 
dents that  have  no  bearing  upon  the  plot  are  freely  introduced, 
so  long  as  they  help  to    illustrate   the  characters,    in  which  lies 
the    main    interest  of  the    story.     But  in    other  points   the  two 
novelists  are    in  strong    contrast    to    each    other.     Thackeray's 
humour  is  quiet  and  reflective  ;  Dickens's  is  broad  and  exhilara- 
ting ;  while  neither's  is  savage  or  cynical.     Thackeray's  humour 
is  shown  in    the  form  of   comments    on    incidents,    Dickens's 
expresses  itself    in  the    characters.     Thackeray's    more  refined 


436  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

taste  preserves  him  from  lapsing  into  the  melodramatic  and  the 
sentimentally  pathetic,  from  which  Dickens  is  not  altogether 
free. 


QUOTATIONS. 

Whenever  he  met  a  great  man,  he  grovelled  before  him,  and 
my-lorded  him  as  only  a  free-born  Briton  can  do.  Vanity  Fair,  Bk. 
I,  Chap.   13. 

Nothing  like  blood,  sir,  in  hosses,  dawgs,  and  men  (James 
Crawley).  lb.  Chap.  35. 

'Tis  strange  what  a  man  may  do,  and  a  woman  yet  think  him 
an  angel.     Esmond,  Bk.  I,  Chap.  7. 

The  true  pleasure  of  life  is  to  live  with  one's  inferiors.  The 
Newcomes,  Bk.  I,  Chap.  9, 

Is  not  a  young  mother  one  of  the  sweetest  sights  which  life 
shows  us?  lb.  Bk.  II,  Chap.   13. 

As  the  last  bell  struck,  a  peculiar  sweet  smile  shone  over  his 
face,  and  he  lifted  up  his  head  a  little,  and  quickly  said  "Adsum", 
and  fell  back.  It  was  the  word  he  used  at  school,  when  names 
were  called  ;  and  lo  he,  whose  heart  was  as  that  of  a  little  child, 
had  answered  to  his  name,  and  stood  in  the  presence  of  The 
Master.  lb.  Chap.  42. 

What  woman,  however  old,  has  not  the  bridal-favours  and  ran 
ment  stowed  away,  and  packed  in  lavender,  in  the  inmost  cupboard 
of  her  heart?  The  Virginians,  Bk.  I,  Chap.  28. 

He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  stuff  them  with  cotton.  lb. 
Chap.     32. 

There  are  some  meannesses  which  are  too  mean  even  for  ; 
man  :  woman,  lovely  woman,  alone,  can  venture  to  commit  them.  I 
A  Shabby  Genteel  Story,  Chap.    3. 

Why  do  they   always    put  mud  into   coffee   on  board  steamers? 
Why  does  the  tea  generally  taste  of  boiled  boots  ?  The  Kickleburys  \ 
on  the  Rhine. 

Charlotte,  having  seen  his  body 
Borne  before  her  on  a  shutter, 

Like  a  well-conducted  person, 
Went  on  cutting  bread  and  butter.     Sorrows  of  Werther. 


DICKENS  (1812-1870). 

Charles  Dickens,  the  most  popular  of  English  novel-writers 
Birth  and  and  humourists,  was  born    at    Landport,   near 

parentage.  Portsmouth,    February    7,    1812.     His  father, 

John  Dickens,  the  original  of  Mr.  Micawber,  was  a  clerk  in  the 
Navy  Pay-office ;  his  mother,  who  in  some  ways  was  the  model 
for  Mrs.  Nickleby,  did  her  best  to  supplement  her  husband's 
deficiencies  by  teaching  Charles  the  rudiments  of  Latin  and 
starting  a  boarding-school,  when  the  family  were  reduced  to 
great  straits  by  John  Dickens's  thriftless  ways.  In  18  16  John 
Dickens  had  been  moved  to  Chatham,  where  Charles  formed 
his  earliest  impressions  of  shipping  and  sailors.  In  1821 
changes  in  the  Admiralty  deprived  the  father  of  his  post  and  of 
most  of  his  salary,  and  the  family  experienced  dire  poverty  in 
sordid  London  surroundings.  After  a  few  months  the  home 
was  broken  up  by  John  Dickens's  imprisonment  for  debt  in  the 
Marshelsea,  an  event  which  supplies  material  for  parts  of  Little 
Dorrit.  Charles  was  sent  to  lodge  with  an  old  lady  in  Little 
College  Street,  who  afterwards  figured  as  Mrs.  Pipchin  in 
Dombey  and  Son.  There  he  earned  six  shillings  a  week  by 
labelling  blacking-pots  in  a  factory. 

While  at  Chatham,  Dickens  had  been  sent   to  two    inferior 
schools ;    his    father's    bookshelves  had  given 

Education.  .  .  ,  ,       ,  ,  , 

him  access  to  some  old  standard  novels,  such 
as  Fielding's  and  Smollett's  ;  and  his  cousin  James  Lamert  had 
introduced  him  to  the  delights  of  the  theatre.  From  his  god- 
father, a  thriving  sail-maker  in  Limehouse,  he  acquired  that 
familiarity  with  the  details  of  a  shipwright's  yard  which  so  often 
provide  a  vivid  background  for  his  scenes  of  fiction.  And  from 
his  experiences  in  the  blacking  warehouse  and  in  his  daily 
walks  to  and  from  it  through  the  London  streets  he  stored  up 
memories  which  proved  an  inexhaustible  treasury  for  The  Pick- 
wick Papers  and  David  Copperfield.     From  early  childhood  he 


438  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

had  been  intensely  observant  of  particulars  both  of  person  and 
place ;  and  he  had  formed  the  habit  of  associating  his  surround- 
ings  with    imaginary    continuations    of   the    life    supplied    by 
favourite  works  of  fiction.     Thus  he  imagined  himself  for  weeks 
together  to  be  Tom  Jones,  or    Roderick    Random,    and    could 
point  out  the  exact  public  house  where  he  had  seen  Commodore 
Tiunnion  hobnobbing  with  Mr.  Pickle  in  the  bar-parlour.     His 
father    having    secured    his    release  under  the  Bankruptcy  Act, 
the  family   returned    to    their    home    in   Camden   Town  ;    and 
Charles  was  delivered  from  the  blacking-pot  drudgery  and  sent 
to    school    for   the    next    four   years.      But    at  fifteen  years  old 
he    had    to  earn    his    living    as     an    attorney's     office     boy  r 
spending   his  spare  time  as  a  reader  in  the  British  Museum,  or 
in    learning   shorthand.     In    1831    he  became  a  parliamentary 
reporter.     The  connexion  with    several   important    newspapers 
involved  journeys  all  over  the  country,  and  taught  him    all    the 
lore    of   the    stage-coach,    the    inn-yard,    and    the  commercial 
travellers'  room.     Dickens  thus  educated  himself  for  his  special 
life-work    with   a   thoroughness  all  the  more  complete  because 
it  was  unconscious  and  instinctive. 

Dickens  began  his  literary  career  with  his  Sketches  by    Bozf 
contributed  to    periodicals    and    published    in 

Early  writings.  r  r 

book  form  in  1836,  the  year  of  his  marriage. 
This  work  led  to  his  being  engaged  by  Chapman  and  Hall  to 
write  the  letterpress  for  an  illustrated  monthly  serial,  which  his 
genius  transformed  into  The  Posthumous  Papers  of  the  Pickwick 
Club  (1836-39).  As  soon  as  Sam  Weller  appeared  in  the 
fifth  number,  the  circulation  became  enormous,  and  the  author's 
reputation  was  made.  Simultaneously  he  was  bringing  out 
monthly  instalments  of  Oliver  Twist,  as  well  as  of  Nicholas 
Nickelby  (1838-39).  He  then  started  a  weekly  periodical,  Master 
Humphrey  s  Clock  (1840-41),  in  which  appeared  as  serials  The 
Old  Curiosity  Shop  (1840),  and  Barnaby  Rudge  (1841).  The 
latter,  introducing  the  Gordon  Riots,  and  A  Tale  of  Two  Cities 
(1859),  a  powerful  French  Revolution  story,  are  his  only  ex- 
cursions into  the  historical  novel.  In  1841  Dickens  for  relaxa- 
tion and  change  paid  a  visit  to  America,  the  outcome  of  which 


DICKENS.  439 

was  American  Notes  (1842),  in  which  he  severely  satirised  his 
late  entertainers  ;  nor  less  severely  in  the  American  episodes 
of  his  next  serial  novel,  MaNin  Chuzzlewit  (1843-44),  the 
most  prominent  figures  in  which  are  the  hypocrite  Pecksniff, 
the  repulsive  villain  Jonas  Chuzzlewit,  and  the  immortal  Sairey 
Gamp.  In  spite  of  the  literary  success  of  this  novel,  its  sale 
was  unsatisfactory,  nor  was  he  much  more  successful  with  his 
next  venture,  A  Christmas  Carol  (1843J  5  ana  ne  na(^  begun  to 
live  beyond  his  means.  Accordingly,  with  a  view  to  retrench- 
ment, he  settled  in  Genoa  for  a  time,  and  then  visited  the  chief 
towns  of  Italy,  coming  home  in  June  1845. 

After  his  return  to  England  he  was  appointed  editor  of  the 
newly-established  'Daily  News'  ;  but    resigned 

Later  novels.  c.  r  ■    ,  „.,  .  j 

after  a  fortnight  s  experience  and  again  went 
to  live  abroad,  where  he  contributed  to  that  newspaper  a  series 
of  letters,  Picturesfrom  Italy  (1846),  and  wrote  Dombey  and  Son 
(1846-48).  The  next  year  he  commenced  perhaps  his  greatest 
and  most  characteristic  work,  largely  autobiographical,  David 
Copperfield  (1849-50).  Bleak  House  (1852-53),  Little  Dorrit 
(1855-57),  and  Our  Mutual  Friend  (1864-65),  are  the  landmarks 
of  Dickens's  mature  creative  power.  But  as  early  as  1849  he 
had  begun  to  project  a  new  kind  of  weekly  periodical ;  and  in 
March  1850  his  idea  took  form  in  'Household  Words,'  to  which 
he  contributed  his  second-rate  Child's  History  of  England 
(185  1),  and  a  novel,  Hard  Times  (1854).  In  1859  this  periodi- 
cal was  replaced  by  'All  the  Year  Round,'  for  which,  besides 
A  Tale  of  Two  Cities  already  mentioned,  he  wrote  The  Uncom- 
mercial Traveller  (i860)  and  Great  Expectations  (,1860-61). 
In    his    childhood  Dickens  had  developed  a  passion  for  the 

stage;  in  1836  he  wrote  a  farce  and  a  short 
Pub'deathdinsS ;      comedy;    and   the    essential     theatricality    of 

his  nature  is  more  or  less  discernible  in  all 
his  novels.  He  now  took  up  a  semi-dramatic  form  of  activity 
with  great  success,  by  giving  public  readings  from  his  own 
novels.  In  this  way  he  visited  all  the  large  towns  of  the  United 
Kingdom  between  1858  and  1870,  and  gained  a  small  fortune 
in    America   in    1867   and    1868.     On  June  8,  1870,  while  he 


440  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

was  at  work  on  The  Mystery  of  Edwin  Drood,  he  was  suddenly 
struck  down  by  apoplexy.  He  died  the  next  day  at  his  house, 
Gadshill  Place,  near  Rochester ;  and  on  the  14th  was  quietly 
buried  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

In    spite   of  the  jovial  benevolence  of  his  writings,  Dickens 

himself  seems  to  have    been   less   amiable    in 
man  and  IwriLfr.      private  life  than  either  the  'cynical'  Thackeray, 

or  the  saturnine  Carlyle.  His  taking  to 
public  readings  was  partly,  as  he  said,  'to  escape  uneasiness  at 
home' ;  an  uneasiness  chiefly  due  to  his  own  restless  and 
exacting  temper.  He  separated  from  his  wife  in  1858.  He 
was  always  morbidly  conscious  of  his  humble  origin  and  de- 
fective education.  But  he  is  optimistic  in  his  views  of  life 
generally,  and  is  ready  with  his  indignation  against  the  oppres- 
sion of  the  weak  by  the  strong.  As  a  writer  he  possessed  an 
unrivalled  range  of  imagination,  never  strictly  true  to  nature, 
but  always  intensely  vivid  ;  and  he  is  a  master  of  the  humourous, 
the  grotesque,  and  the  terrible.  His  range  was  confined  to  the 
lower,  or  to  the  lower  middle  classes :  of  'society'  he  knew 
nothing,  and  his  attempts  at  describing  it  are  mostly  caricatures. 
His  humour,  too,  in  some  cases  consists  in  inventing  a  character 
which  is  a  mere  bundle  of  catch-words  ;  and  his  pathos  is  at 
times  laboured  and  unreal.  But  his  popularity  is  indubitable, 
and  will  probably  be  permanent.  He  made  humour,  the 
harsh  humour  of  Hook  and  Jerrold,  genial  and  harmless.  Sam 
Weller  can  never  die,  nor  Betsy  Trotwood,  nor  Joe  Gargery; 
indeed  the  list  of  Dickens's  immortals  is  so  long  and  so 
varied  that  all  his  failures  and  mannerisms  are  comparatively 
but  dust  in  the  balance.  For,  as  G.  K.  Chesterton  well  says, 
'in  England. ..the  poor  people  are  the  most  motley  and  amusing 
creatures  in  the  world,  full  of  humourous  affections  and  pre- 
judices and  twists  of  irony... The  democracy  is  really  composed 
of  Dickens's  characters  ;  for  the  simple  reason  that  Dickens 
himself  was  one  of  the  democracy.'  But  Dickens  did  more 
than  this.  His  writings  have  exerted  a  strong  and  beneficial 
moral  influence.  They  have  largely  helped  to  throw  down  the 
barriers   between    class  and  class,  and  taught  us  that  goodness 


DICKENS.  441 

and  human  kindliness  are  to  he  found  in  all  sorts  of  persons, 
even  the  lowest.  Conventional  as  he  is  in  many  of  his  opinions, 
he  is  one  of  the  leaders  in  the  progress  towards  the  brother- 
hood of  mankind.  It  should  be  noted  that  not  a  few  of  his 
novels  are  novels  with  a  purpose  (pp.  82-83)  ;  they  point  out  evils 
with  a  view  to  their  reform.  Thus  Oliver  Twist  shows  up  the 
abuses  of  Poor  Law  administration  ;  Pickwick,  David  Copper- 
field,  and  Little  Dorrit  expose  the  harm  done  by  imprisonment 
for  debt ;  the  dilatoriness  of  the  Law  is  emphasised  in  Bleak 
House,  and  the  mischief  of  red-tapism  in  The  Circumlocution 
Office  of  Little  Dorrit :  while  the  private  school  system  of  the 
time  is  mercilessly  ridiculed  in  Nicholas  Nickleby. 

QUOTATIONS. 

He  had  used  the  word  in  its  Pickwickian  sense.  Pickwick, 
Chap.  1. 

"I  want  to  make  your  flesh  creep,"  replied  the  (fat)  boy.  lb. 
Chap.  8. 

Battledore  and  shuttlecock's  a  werry  good  game,  when  you  a'n't 
the  shuttlecock  and  two  lawyers  the  battledores,  in  which  case  it 
gets  too  excitin'  to  be  pleasant.     lb.  Chap.  20. 

When  you're  a  married  man,  Samivel,  you'll  understand  a  good 
many  things  as  you  don't  understand  now  ;  but  wether  it's  worth 
while  goin'  through  so  much  to  learn  so  little,  as  the  charity  boy 
said,  ven  he  got  to  the  end  of  the  alphabet,  is  a  matter  o'  taste.  lb. 
Chap.  28. 

"That's  rayther  a  sudden  pull-up,  ain't  it,  Sammy  ?"  Inquired 
Mr.  Weller.  "Not  a  bit  on  it,"  said  Sam,  "she'll  wish  there  was 
more,  and  that's  the  great  art  o'  letter-writin."     lb.  Chap.  33. 

"Chops  and  tomato  sauce.  Yours,  Pickwick."  Chops  !  gracious- 
heavens  !  and  tomato  sauce !  Gentlemen,  is  the  happiness  of  a 
sensitive  and  confiding  female  to  be  trifled  away  by  such  shallow 
artifices  as  these  ?  lb.  Chap.  34. 

"Yes,  I  have  a  pair  of  eyes,"  replied  Sam,  "and  that's  just  it.  If 
they  wos  a  pair  of  patent  double  million  magnifying  gas  microscopes 
of  hextra  power,  p'raps  I  might  be  able  to  see  through  a  flight  o' 
stairs  and  a  deal  door  ;  but  being  only  eyes,  you  see,  my  wision's 
limited."     lb. 


442  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Oh,  Sammy,  Sammy,  vy  worn't  there  a  alleybi  ?  lb. 

Oliver  Twist  has  asked  for  more.     Oliver  Twist,  Chap.  2. 

"If  the  law  supposes  that,"  said  Mr.  Bumble. .."the  law  is  a  ass 
—a  idiot."     lb.  Chap.  51. 

My  life  is  one  demd  horrid  grind.  (Mr.  Mantalini)  Nicholas 
Nick  le  by,  Chap.  64. 

Codlin's  the  friend,  not  Short.     Old  Curiosity  Shop. 

There  might  be  some  credit  in  being  jolly  under  the  circum- 
stances.    (Mark  Tapley)  Martin  Chtizslezuit,  Chap.  5. 

"Let  us  be  merry,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  Here  he  took  a  captain's 
biscuit.     lb. 

"Mrs.  Harris,"  I  says,  "leave  the  bottle  on  the  chimley-piece, 
and  don't  ask  me  to  take  none,  but  let  me  put  my  lips  to  it  when  I 
am  so  dispoged."     lb.  Chap.  12. 

"Bother  Mrs.  Harris,"  said  Betsy  Prig---"I  don't  believe  there's 
no  sich  a  person  !"  lb. 

In  came  Mrs.  Fezziwig,  one  vast  substantial  smile.  A  Christ 
mas  Carol,  Stave  2. 

Barkis  is  willin'.     David  Copperfield,  Chap.  5. 

Annual  income  twenty  pounds,  annual  expenditure  nineteen  six; 
result  happiness.  Annual  income  twenty  pounds,  annual  expendi- 
ture twenty  pounds  ought  and  six  ;  result  misery.  (Mr.  Mickavvber) 
lb.  Chap.  12. 

When  found,  make  a  note  of.  (Captain  Cuttle)  Dombey  and 
Son,  Bk.  I,  Chap.  15. 

The  bearings  of  this  observation  lays  in  the  application  on  it.  lb. 
Chap.  23. 

"Father"  is  rather  vulger,  my  dear.  The  word  "Papa",  besides, 
gives  a  pretty  form  to  the  lips.  Papa,  potatoes,  poultry,  prunes, 
and  prism  are  all  very  good  words  for  the  lips  ;  especially  prunes 
and  prism.     Little  Dorrit,  Part  II,  Chap.  5. 


K.    BROWNING  (1812-1889). 

Robert  Browning,  the  subtlest  and  most  passionately  philo- 
sophic of  our  poets,  was  born  in    Camberwell, 
Birth  and  parent-       London,  May  7,  1812.     His  father  was  a  clerk 
in   the    Bank   of    England,    a   man  of  strong 
character  and    great   ability,    who    cherished    through    life   an 
intense  love  for  books.     His    literary    and    artistic    sympathies 
found  vent  in  loving  care  for  the  future  of  his  son.   His  mother 
was  of  mixed  Scotch  and  German  descent      She  was  a  woman 
of  fervent  piety  and  of  the    sweetest  disposition  ;  and  from  her 
Browning    seems    to    have    inherited  the  nervous  susceptibility 
which  is  one  condition  of  the  poetic  organization. 

Browning  attended  several  private  schools,  where    he  easily 
surpassed    his    schoolfellows  •    but     his     real 

Education.  r 

education  was  derived  from  his  father's  large 
and  choice  library  and  his  parents'  sympathetic  encouragement 
in  the  use  of  it.  When  he  was  only  twelve,  he  had  written  a 
volume  of  short  poems,  inspired  by  Byron's  influence.  His 
father  tried  in  vain  to  get  them  published  ;  they  were  after- 
wards destroyed.  His  education  for  his  life-work  began  with 
a  chance  introduction  to  Shelley  and  a  volume  of  Keats. 
These  two  opened  up  for  him  a  new  world,  and  left  a 
permanent  imprint  on  his  genius.  One  thing  only  his  father 
denied  him,  the  free  comradeship  of  a  public  school  and  the 
social  life  of  Oxford  or  Cambridge.  He  was  taught  music, 
singing,  dancing,  riding,  boxing,  fencing,  and  French  at  home, 
under  excellent  tutors,  and  studied  Greek  for  a  few  terms  at 
the  London  University.  Mathematics  and  logic  were  entirely- 
left  out  of  his  course  •,  and  possibly  to  this  defect  is  due  the 
inconsecutive  involutions  of  thought  which  are  such  a  stumbling- 
block  to  his  unpractised  readers. 
* 


444  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Before  he  was  twenty-one  Browning    had    written    Pauline, 
which  was    published    anonymously    in    1S33, 

PaUceisus.,Para'  but  met  witn  i'ule  recognition.  Twenty  years 
afterwards  Rossetti  was  so  charmed  with  a 
copy  he  came  across  in  the  British  Museum  that  he  copied  out 
the  whole  poem,  and  was  sure  it  was  by  the  author  of  Para- 
celsus. This  was  Browning's  next  poem,  which  was  published 
in  1853  at  the  author's  expense.  Though  Paracelsus  did  not 
win  the  popular  favour,  it  introduced  its  author  to  the  friend- 
ship of  Leigh  Hunt,  Dickens,  Wordsworth,  and  Lanjor.  John 
Forster,  knowing  nothing  about  it  but  that  'The  Athenaeum' 
had  called  it  'rubbish',  favourably  reviewed  it  in  'The  Examiner,' 
clearly  recognizing  its  great  poetic  promise. 

About  this  time  the  family  removed  to  Hatcham  where  they 

had    tiie    advantage    of    a    larger   house  and  a 

Haf/ham^'Straf-      garden    opening    on    to    the    fresh    air   of  the 

ford.  Surrey  hills.      This  removal  brought  them  into 

friendly  intercourse  with  relatives,  one  of 
whom,  'Uncle  Reuben,"  kept  a  horse,  and  was  glad  to  have  it 
exercised  by  so  admirable  a  horseman  as  his  nephew.  This 
good  horse  'York'  no  doubt  helped  to  inspire  Browning's 
stirring  lyric.  How  they  brought  the  Go»d  News  from  Ghent  to 
Aix.  Among  the  friends  that  Paracelsus  brought  him  was  the 
actor  Macready,  who  first  met  Browning  at  a  dinner  to  cele- 
brate the  success  of  Talfourd's  Ion  (1839).  The  result  was 
Browning's  Strafford,  which  was  brought  out  successfully  at 
Covent  Garden  Theatre  May  I,  1837-  Longman  published 
the  play  at  his  own  expense  ;  but  it  brought  him  no  profits. 
Browning's  next  poem  was  Sordello  (1840),  the  story  of  the 

development    of    a    self-centred    poet's    soul. 

'Sordello.  r  r 

For  a  long  time,  even  among  readers  as  able 
as  Tennyson,  this  poem  was  looked  upon  as  an  incomprehen- 
sible puzzle.  While  it  was  in  process  of  creation,  Browning 
had  the  benefit  of  a  complete  change  of  air  and  scene  in  a 
voyage  to  Trieste.  This  voyage  produced  Home  thoughts 
from  the  Sea  and  the  gallop  in  verse,    Ghent   to    Aix,    referred 


R.   BROWNING.  445 

to  above.     From    Trieste   Browning  went   to   Venice  ;  visited 
Asolo,  then  the  Tyrol,  and  home  by  the  Rhine. 

In  Pippa  Passes  (1841),  Browning's  next  work,  the  poet's 
,  p.  p  ,  true  genius  first  asserted  itself  with  compara- 
tive freedom  from  those  defects  of  form  and 
expression  which  made  his  earlier  works  'caviare  to  the  general'. 
It  is  a  dramatic  poem,  in  which  a  poor  girl,  a  worker  in  the 
silk-mills  of  Asolo,  during  her  one  day's  holiday  in  the  year 
'  passes  by  '  singing,  and  so  unknowingly  influences  the  spiri- 
tual history  of  different  sets  of  dramatis  personae  at  an  impor- 
tant crisis  in  their  lives.  This  poem  was  published  as  the 
first  of  a  series,  Bells  and  Pomegranates  (an  alternation  of 
music  with  discoursing,  poetry  with  thought,  is  Browning's 
own  interpretation  of  the  title).  The  series  contained  plays, 
dramatic  romances,  and  lyrics,  afterwards  incorporated,  with 
some  changes,  in  his  published  works.  His  Dramatic  Romances 
are  good  examples  of  how  Browning  seizes  upon  and  brings 
out  'the  full  emotional  significance  of  such  things  as  a  glance 
or  a  chance  word,  of  a  landscape  or  of  an  ambition.' 

The  tragedy  of  A  Blot  in  the    Scutcheon   (1843)  was  written 
a  Blot  in  the  in    about    five   days   for   Macready,    and    was 

'Coiombe's'  distinctly  a    success.      It    was   afterwards   re- 

Birthday .'  vived    by  Pneips   at     Sadler's    Wells   theatre 

in  1848.  Co/ombe's  Birthday  was  acted  in  1833  at  tne  Hay- 
market,  and  afterwards  in  the  provinces.  Two  other  tragedies, 
King  Victor  and  King  Charles,  and  The  Return  of  the  Druses 
were  written  for  the  stage,  but  not  sent  to  any  manager  ;  they 
were  published  among  the  Bells  and  Pomegranates.  Dramatic 
monologue,  rather  than  drama  proper,  was  Browning's  strong 
point.  In  his  Cavalier  Tunes  he  has  shown  with  what  vigour 
be  could  whole-heartedly  put  himself  into  the  mental  and 
emotional  attitude  of  a  sturdy  royalist.  This  is  the  more 
striking  when  we  remember  his  Lost  Leader,  a  fancy  sketch, 
with  Wordsworth  as  "  model,"  which  shows  the  poet's  own 
intense  and  indignant  Liberalism.  His  feelings  in  this  respect 
are  shown  by  a  sonnet  written  in  1885,  not  published  in  his 
works  : — 


446  A   HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

'  If  fetters  not  a  few 
Of  prejudice,  convention,  fall  from  me, 
These  shall  I  bid  men— each  in  his  degree 
Also  God-guided — bear,  and  gladly  too  P'1 

In  the   autumn    of  1844   Browning   again    made    a  tour  in 
Marriage.  Italy,    reminiscences    of  which  are  vividly  em- 

bodied in  The  Englishman  in  Italy  (1845). 
On  his  leturn  he  read  and  greatly  admired  the  recently  pub- 
lished Lady  Geraldines  Courtship  of  Elizabeth  Barrett.  This 
led  to  communication  between  them  and  they  fell  in  love  with 
each  other.  In  consequence  of  her  father's  irrational  opposi- 
tion, the  engagement  and  the  marriage  (1846)  were  kept  a 
profound  secret.  The  latter  had  been  hastened  by  her 
father's  refusal  to  accept  the  family  doctor's  decision  that  it 
was  essential  for  her  to  winter  in  the  South.  Seven  days  after 
her  marriage  she  stole  in  silence  from  her  father's  house,  and 
the  married  lovers  took  the  boat  to  Havre  and  settled  for  the 
winter  in  Pisa,  where  Mrs.  Browning  made  an  almost  miracul- 
ous recovery. 

The  tragedy  of  Luria,  containing   the  great  character  of  the 
Moor  himself,  and    A    Soul's  Tragedy  (1846) 

■Luria'  ; 'The  Pied  ,         '  , 

Piper ;  'Christmas,       closed    the    jbells   and      Pomegranates    series, 

Eve  and  Easter  ,...  ..  ,    r>       \    i      j  .    •       j 

Day.  which  in  an  earlier  issue  (1042)  had  contained 

the  popular  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin,  written 
to  please  Macready's  little  boy.  Ho?ne  Thoughts  from  Abroad, 
an  exquisite  idyll  on  spring  in  England,  is  another  of  the  best 
known  of  that  series.  For  three  years  after  his  marriage 
Browning  produced  nothing.  But  in  1850  he  wrote  Christmas 
Eve  and  Easter  Day  in  Florence  ;  the  poem  is  a  first  rough 
draft  of  his  own  religious  creed.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browning  re- 
turned to  England  for  the  summer  of  1852  ;  but  with  the 
exception  of  such  occasional  visits  to  London  or  a  winter  in 
Paris,  the  two  lived  the  rest  of  their  joint  life  in  Italy,  chiefly 
at  Florence,  where  she  died  in  1861.  Her  death  was  a  terrible 
blow  to  the  poet.     After   a  time  he  returned  to  London  (where 


1  Life  of  Robert  Browning,  W.  Hull  Griffin  (1910). 


R.    BROWNING.  447 

he    was  joined  by  his  sister)  and  settled  there  to  look  after  the 
education  of  his  son,  an  only  child,  born  in  1849. 

Men  and  Women,  a  series  of  dramatic  studies  among  which 

An  Epistle  is  a   wonderfully    subtle    study    of 

'Men  and  women'      human  feeling,    had  been  published  in  1855  ; 

Caliban  upon  °'  r  J  •>  ' 

Setebos' ;  etc.  as  also  had  a  dramatic  sketch,   In    a    Balcony. 

Another  similar  series,  Drama/is  Personae, 
begun  before  his  wife's  death,  was  published  in  1864;  of 
which  the  most  important  are  Abt  Vogler,  Rabi  Ben  Ezra, 
Caliban  upon  Setebos,  Mr.  Sludge,  "the  Medium,'''  and  Prospice. 
Balauslion's  Adventure  ( 1 87 1 )  and  Aristophanes'  Apology  (1 875) 
illustrate  Browning's  familiarity  with  the  Greek  classics,  and 
especially  his  sympathetic  insight  into  Euripides,  'the  human, 
with  his  droppings  of  warm  tears'. 

In  1867  the  degree  of  M.  A.  was  conferred  upon  Browning 
by  the  University  of  Oxford,  and  he  was  made 
the  Book\n  an    honorary    Fellow    of   Balliol  College.     In 

1869  was  published  his  masterpice,  The  Ring 
and  the  Book.  In  June  i860  the  poet  had  come  across  an  old 
book  on  a  stall,  containing  a  full  account  of  the  trial  of  Count 
Guido  Franceschini  of  Arezzo  for  the  murder  of  his  wife 
Pompilia,  who  had  fled  from  him  under  the  care  of  a  priest 
Caponsacchi.  It  was  a  long  and  complicated  case,  and  public 
opinion  in  Rome  was  much  divided  at  the  time  (1698),  some 
siding  with  the  husband,  some  with  the  wife.  All  these 
divergencies  of  opinion  find  full  dramatic  expression  in  the 
poem  ;  each  of  the  chief  actors  tells  the  tale  from  his  or  her 
own  point  of  view  ;  the  pope  giving,  from  the  loftiest  stand- 
point, the  final  verdict.  As  a  subtle  study  in  dramatised 
psychology  this  poem  is  unrivalled  in  English  literature.  After 
its  publication,  the  poet's  fame  was  fully  established  ;  in 
America  even  more  than  in  England. 

Prince    Hohenstiel  Schwangau,  Saviour  of  Society  (1871),  a 
dramatic     psychological    study    of     the    third 
Fai'r^'rTedCotton      Napoleon,    and   Fifine  at  the  Fair  (1872),  like 
Nitrt;CaeltcCoun"       Mr.  Sludge,  "The  Medium,"  ?ltq  both    exam- 
ples of  the  work  which  had  a  growing  fascina- 


448  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

tion  for  the  poet  since  his  study  of  the  Roman  murder-case. 
It  lies  in  weaving  with  all  the  resources  of  intellectual  subtlety 
the  special  pleadings  of  some  arch-villain  for  his  own  favourite 
vices,  who  in  thus  telling  his  own  story,  vividly  reveals  his  own 
character  ;  while  all  the  time  the  poet's  own  moral  fervour  re- 
mains suppressed  in  an  ironic  background.  Red  Cotton 
Nightcap  Country  (1873),  a  study  of  a  tragic  story  leading  to  a 
lawsuit  in  the  courts  at  Caen,  is  a  good  example  of  Browning's 
later  style.  The  poem  is  full  of  quaint  conceits,  all  playing 
upon  the  tragic  contrast  between  the  sleepy  stagnation  of  rustic 
innocence  and  the  hidden  depths  of  scarlet  guilt  which  it  may 
sometimes  serve  to  hide.  The  Inn  Album  (1875)  is  an  even 
more  characteristic  and  subtle  study  of  the  higher  love  of 
man  and  woman.  Pacchiarotto  and  How  he  Worked  in  Dis- 
temper (1876),  with  most  of  the  poems  that  follow  in  that  set, 
are  examples  of  Browning's  racy  satire,  made  more  pungent 
by  his  prodigal  use  of  the  queerest  double  or  triple  rhymes.  The 
Agamemnon  of  Aeschylus  (1877)  with  its  satirical  prose-preface, 
is  a  powerful  because  faithfully  close  translation  of  the  greatest 
of  Greek  tragedies  ;  it  rounds  off  the  preceding  poems  much 
as  Balaustion's  two  Adventures  serve  to  round  off  Men  and 
Women  and  the  Dramatis  Personae. 

In    1877    Browning    returned    for    a  time  with  his  sister  to 

Italy,  staying  frequently  in  Venice  and  at  his 
Return  to  Italy;  beloved  Asolo,  where  he  planned  to  build 
JoCdeatn*'  himself  a  summer  home,  to  be  called  'Pippa's 

Tower.'  During  this  period  were  produced — 
Jocoseria  (1883),  a  series  the  first  of  which,  Donald,  is,  in  its 
moral,  an  exact  counterpart  to  Wordsworth's  Hartleap  Well  ; 
Ferishlah's  Fancies  (1884),  a  series  of  parables  under  which 
Browning  veils  some  of  his  philosophy  of  religion  and  ethics  ; 
and  Asolando :  Fancies  and  Fads  (1889),  a  series  containing 
some  of  his  lovliest  lyrics,  closing  with  the  beautiful  Epilogue, 
which  may  be  compared  and  contrasted  with  Tennyson's 
Crossing  the  Bar.  At  the  end  of  October  1889  Browning  left 
Asolo  to  join  his  son  and  daughter-in-law  in  their  new  home 
in  Venice.     Here  he  caught  cold   by    walking    out   in    a   fog, 


R.   BROWNING.  449 

gradually  grew  worse,  and  died  December  12,  1889.  His  body 

was    taken  to    his   London    home,    and    thence   to    the  Poets' 

Corner  in  Westminster  Abbey,  where  it  was  interred  Dec.  31. 

Browning  as  a  man  and  a  poet  naturally  invites  comparison 

with  the  other  great  poet  of  his  age,  Tennyson. 

Character  as  a      Qf    tne    two     Browning    certainly     had     the 

man  and  a  poet  :  °  J 

contrasted  with      greater  intellectual    power    and    grasp.     Both 

lennyson.  °  r  o        r 

alike  were  examples  of  the  highest  social  and 
literary  culture  of  the  age,  but  whereas  Tennyson  simply  re- 
presented his  age,  Browning  led  it ;  he  will  hereafter  be  a 
guide  in  philosophic  thought,  when  Tennyson  is  prized  only 
for  his  beauty  of  expression.  Their  scope  differs  :  Browning's 
art  concerns  itself  almost  exclusively  with  men  and  women  ; 
nature  for  him  held  scarcely  even  a  secondary  place.  Corres- 
pondingly, while  Tennyson  was  shy  and  almost  a  hermit, 
Browning  made  a  point  of  living  in  Society  ;  he  was  one  of 
the  personages  of  the  London  '  seasons.'  Both  aimed  at 
success  on  the  dramatic  stage,  and  both  in  some  limited 
measure  attained  it;  but  whereas  the  dramatic  monologue 
was  Tennyson's  occasional  achievement,  it  was  Browning's 
strongest  point.  Browning  has  little  of  Tennyson's  exquisite 
grace  and  music  ;  on  the  other  hand  Tennyson  has  nothing 
like  Browning's  range  of  humour,  nor  has  he  the  least  ap- 
preciation of  the  bizarre  and  the  grotesque,  in  which  Browning 
instinctively  delighted.  Browning,  again,  is  one  of  the  most 
difficult  of  English  poets,  while  Tennyson  is  one  of  the 
clearest  ;  the  former  was  too  much  taken  up  with  the  matter 
of  his  poems  to  trouble  about  the  classic  perfection  of  form 
which  the  latter  prized  so  highly.  Both  alike  held  the  highest 
ideal  of  the  sanctities  of  sex,  and  the  married  life  of  each  came 
up  to  the  full  beauty  of  their  ideals  ;  but  while  the  passion  of 
the  lifelong  and  undying  love  for  '  one  and  one  only  '  was  with 
Tennyson  a  conviction  on  which  he  is  never  tired  of  preaching, 
with  Browning  it  was  too  sacred  and  intense  to  be  dramatized 
about,  and  is  referred  to  only  on  the  rarest  occasions,  as 
when  it  breathes  through  the  restraint  of  One  Word  More,  or 
lightens  accross  the  darkness  of  death  in  Prospice.  It  is  however 
29 


450  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

in  the  philosophy  of  religion  that  the  study  of  Browing  is  so 
valuable.  Though  he  may  sometimes  seem  to  lean  towards 
the  Pantheism  of  Wordsworth  or  Tennyson,  he  never  loses 
his  hold  of  the  actual  and  the  individual.  God  is  to  him  a 
reality;  the  finite  and  the  infinite,  the  human  and  the  divine, 
are  made  one  by  love  (see  the  last  of  the  Quotations).  In 
Browning  far  more  than  Tennyson,  we  meet  with  the  fullest 
and  most  fearless  analysis  of  all  that  modern  science  and 
modern  criticism  can  suggest  in  the  way  of  doubt.  He 
wrestles  with  the  Angel  of  the  Dark  as  no  poet-Israel  ever 
wrestled  before  ;  and  no  other  poet  has  succeeded  as  he  has 
done  in  bringing  the  naked  human  soul  face  to  face  with  the 
Ineffable  Vision.  Browning  has  not  the  fullness  of  Shakes- 
peare's dramatic  instinct,  though  he  comes  nearer  to  Shakes- 
peare than  any  other  English  poet ;  but  on  the  other  hand  he 
has  the  power  of  philosophic  insight  into  what  Shakespeare 
always  most  conscientiously  avoided  as  beyond  his  province — 
the  fundamental  problems  of  religion  and  Christianity.  Setting 
that  poet  apart,  Landor  writes  of  Browning  :  — 

'Since  Chaucer  was  alive  and  hale, 

No  man  hath    walked  along  our  roads  with  step 

So  active,  so  inquiring  eye,  or  tongue 

So  varied  in  discourse.' 

One  word  as  to  the  right  way  of  approaching  the  study    of 
Browning.  G.  K.  Chesterton's  admirable  book 
HB°rowning'd  on   ^xs    poetry    will    serve    as   a   useful  intro- 

duction. Avoid  beginning  with  such  poems 
as  Sordello.  Study  sympathetically  his  shorter,  easily  understood 
poems,  selected  from  the  Dramatics  Lyrics.  Then  read  and 
drink  in  the  inspiration  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning's  Aurora 
Leigh  ;  and  then  peruse  in  its  light  The  Ring  and  the  Book, 
especially  section  vii,  omitting  for  the  present  the  intricate 
legal  arguments  of  sections  viii  and  ix.  When  The  Ring  and 
the  Book  has  been  thoroughly  mastered,  the  student  may  pass 
on  to  other  poems,  leaving  Sordello  to  the  last. 


R.    BROWNING.  451 

QUOTATIONS. 

God  is  the  perfect  poet, 

Who  in  his  person  acts  his  own  creation.  Paracelsus,  Part  2. 
'Tis  only  when  they  spring  to  Heaven  that  angels 
Reveal  themselves  to  you.  lb.  Part  5. 
The  great  beacon-light  God  sets  in  all, 
The  conscience  of  each  bosom.     Strafford,  iv.  2. 
The  year's  at  the  spring 
And  day's  at  the  morn  ; 
Morning's  at  seven  ; 
The  hill-side's  dew-pearled  ; 
The  lark's  on  the  wing  ; 
The  snail's  on  the  thorn  ; 
God's  in  his  heaven  — 

All's  right  with  the  world.  Pippa  Passes,  Part  1. 
All  service  ranks  the  same  with  God — 
With  God,  whose  puppets,  best  and  worst, 
Are  we  :  there  is  no  last  nor  first.    lb.  Part  4. 
'  Here  and  there  did  England  help  me  :  how  can    I    help    Eng- 
land ? ' — say, 

Who  turns  as  I  this  evening  turn  to  God  to  praise  and  pray, 
While  Jove's  planet  rises  yonder,  silent  over  Africa. 

Home-Thoughts,  from  the  Sea,  5 — 8. 
He  said  "  What's  Time  ?     Leave  Now  for  dogs  and  apes  ! 
Man  has  Forever."  A  Grammarian's  Funeral,  83  - 
So,  the  All-Great  were  the  All-Loving  too— 
So,  through  the  thunder  comes  a  human  voice 
Saying,  "  O  heart  I  made,  a  heart  beats  here  !  ".  An  Epistle. 
The  aim,  if  reached  or  not,  makes  great  the  life  ; 
Try  to  be  Shakespeare,  leave  the  rest  to  fate. 

Bishop  Blougram 's  Apology. 
God  be  thanked,  the  meanest  of  his  creatures 
Boasts  two  soul-sides — one  to  face  the  world  with, 
One  to  show  a  woman  when  he  loves  her.     One  Word  More. 

There's  a  real  love  of  a  lie 
Liars  find  ready  made  for  lies  they  make. 

Mr.  Sludge,  "The  Medium" 
Stung  by  the  splendour  of  a  sudden  thought. 

A  death  in  the  Desert,  59. 


452  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

There    shall    never   be    one    lost  good.     What  was  shall  live  as 
before. 

On    the  earth  the    broken  arcs  ;  in  the  heaven,  a  perfect 

round.     Abt  Vogler,  9. 

I  was  ever  a  fighter,  so — one  fight  more, 

The  best  and  the  last  ! 
1  would  hate  that  death  bandaged  my  eyes,  and  forbore, 
And  bade  me  creep  past.  Prospice. 

Genius  has  somewhat  of  the  infantine  : 
But  of  the  childish  not  a  touch  or  taint. 

Prince  Hohenstiel-Schiuangau . 

For  this  did  Paganini  comb  the  fierce 
Electric  sparks,  or  to  tenuity 
Pull  forth  the  inmost  wailing  of  the  wire — 
No  cat-gut  could  swoon  out  so  much  of  soul. 

Red  Cotton  Nightcap  Country,  Bk.  I . 

One  who  never  turned  his  back,  but  marched  breast  forward, 

Never  doubted  clouds  would  break, 
Never    dreamed,   though     right    were     worsted,    wrong    would 

triumph, 
Held  we  fall  to  rise,  are  baffled  to  fight  better,  sleep  to  wake. 

Asolando  :  Epilogue. 

O  lyric  Love,  half-angel  and  half-bird 
And  all  a  wonder  and  a  wild  desire, — 
Boldest  of  hearts  that  ever  braved  the  sun, 
Took  sanctuary  within  the  holier  blue. 
And  sang  a  kindred  soul  out  to  his  face,  — 
Yet  human  at  the  red-ripe  of  the  heart — 
When  the  first  summons  from  the  darkling  earth 
Reached  thee  amid  thy  chambers  blanched  their  blue, 
And  bared  them  of  the  glory — to  drop  down, 
To  toil  for  man  to  suffer  or  to  die, — 
This  is  the  same  voice  can  thy  soul  know  change  ? 
Hail  then,  and  hearken    from    the   realms    of  help  !     The  Ring 
and  the  Book,  I.  1 391 -1402. 


HELPS  (1813-1875). 

Arthur  Helps,  a    graceful    writer   of    philanthropic    essays, 
often    in     semi- dramatic    form,    was    born  at 
PaSS0a„nd  Balham     Hill     in      Surrey    July     10,      1813. 

His  father  was  an  influential  City  merchant 
and  treasurer  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital.  Helps  was 
educated  at  Eton  and  at  Trinitv  College.  Cambridge,  where  he 
took  his  degree  in  1835,  being  thirty-first  wrangler  in  the 
Mathematical  Tripos.  Delicate  health  kept  him  from  any 
high  success  in  competitive  examinations  :  but  his  intellectual 
power  and  moral  earnestness  made  themselves  felt,  and  he 
was  elected  as  one  of  the  select  band  calling  themselves  the 
'  Apostles'  (p.  413).  Arthur  Hallam  and  Alfred  Tennyson  took 
part  in  their  meetings  and  discussions,  not  long  before  Helps 
became  one  of  the  fraternity.  As  we  shall  see  later,  the  free 
interplay  of  thought  and  suggestion  at  these  friendly  gather- 
ings no  doubt  largely  inspired  the  form  of  Helps's  most 
characteristic  literary  work. 

After  leaving  Cambridge,  Helps  worked  as  Private  Secre- 
tary to  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer 
(Spring  Rice)  in  Lord  Melbourne's  adminis- 
tration. He  married  an  Irish  lady,  Miss  Bessy  Fuller,  in 
October  1836.  In  1840  he  went  to  Ireland  as  Private  Secre- 
tary to  Lord  Morpeth,  who  was  then  Secretary  of  State  for  Ire- 
land :  and  he  was  appointed  one  of  the  Commissioners  to  settle 
certain  outstanding  claims  of  Denmark,  dating  from  the  Siege 
of  Copenhagen.  When  Sir  Robert  Peel  became  Prime  Minister, 
Helps's  official  position  came  to  an  end.  But  he  had  proved 
his  ability  for  all  work  that  required  delicate  tact,  thought, 
discretion,  and  diplomatic  skill.  Accordingly  in  i860,  on  the 
occurrence  of  a  vicancy  in  the  Clerkship  of  the  Privy  Council, 
he  was  recommended  for  the  post  by  Lord  Granville,  and 
held  it  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  This  appointment  involved 
frequent  personal  association  with  Queen  Victoria  and  occasion- 


454  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATUKE. 

ally  with  the  Prince  Consort ;  and  Helps  speedily  won  their 
confidence  and  regard.  After  the  Prince  Consort's  death,  the 
Queen  employed  him  to  edit,  with  a  suitable  introduction,  the 
speeches  and  addresses  of  the  deceased  Prince — a  task  which 
he  fulfilled  most  successfully  (1862).  In  like  manner  he  edited, 
with  a  preface,  Leaves  from  a  Journal  of  our  Life  in  the  High- 
lands (1868),  taken  from  the  Queen's  diary.  In  this  way  he 
became  her  trusted  and  invaluable  literary  adviser.  In  1864 
he  received  an  honorary  D.  C.  L.  degree  from  Oxford  •,  in 
1 87 1  he  was  made  aC.  B;  and  in  1872  a  K.  C.  B. 

His  first  book  (1835)  was  a  collection  of  original  aphorisms 
giving  promise  of  the  excellence  shown  in  his 

Literary  career.  ,  _  .„    .  ,       T 

later  works.  His  Essays  Written  in  the  Inter- 
vals of  Business  ( 184 1 )  and  his  Essay  on  the  Duties  of  the 
Employers  to  the  Employed  (1844)  have  a  permanent  value. 
In  1843  he  published  two  historical  dramas,  and  in  1858  a 
play,  Oulita  the  Serf,  none  of  them  of  any  great  merit.  His 
share  of  the  dramatic  faculty  was  insufficient  for  this  purpose, 
but  it  stood  him  in  good  stead  in  representing  lifelike  discus- 
sions of  interesting  topics  by  a  number  of  imaginary  interlo- 
cutors. He  thus  reproduced  the  distilled  essence  of  his  happiest 
Cambridge  days,  and  re-created  an  ideal  'Apostles'  Club'  of 
his  own.  The  first  series  of  Friends  in  Council  appeared  in 
1847.  In  it,  as  in  the  second  series  (1849)  ;  in  a  sort  of  novel, 
Realmah  (1869)  ;  in  Conversations  on  War  and  General  Culture 
(1871)  ;  and  in  Talk  about  Animals  and  their  Masters  (1873), 
the  same  method  of  dramatic  discussion  was  employed  with 
no  little  felicity.  These  friendly  critics,  chief  among 
whom  were  Milverton,  TJlesmere,  and  Dunsford,  became 
increasingly  real  and  effective  both  to  the  author  and  his  read- 
ers, and  they  impart  a  unique  charm  to  the  work  in  which 
they  occur. 

Helps  was  all  his  life  a  vehement  opponent  of   Slavery.     A 

whole  essay  is  devoted  to  the    subject    in    the 

books  ^  death.  nrst    series  of  Friends  in    Council     It  is  more 

fully  treated  in  two  books  un.    The  Conquerors 

of  the  New  World  and  their  Bondsmen  (1848  and    1852)  ;   and 


HELPS.  455 

forms  the  prominent  theme  in  the  four  volumes  of  his  Spanish 
Conquest  in  America  (1855-1861).  Indeed  the  author's 
obvious  pre-occupation  with  one  idea,  his  self-imposed  fidelity 
to  bare  unquestionable  fact,  and  his  tendency  to  ethical  digres- 
sions made  this  book  a  failure  with  the  general  public.  He 
afterwards  re-wrote  this  history  in  the  form  of  separate 
biographies,  viz  :  Las  Casas,  the  Apostle  of  the  Indians  (1868), 
the  Life  of  Columbus  with  the  Life  of  Pizarro  (1869),  and  the 
Life  of  Hernando  Cortex  (187 1).  In  this  amended  form  his 
historical  work  proved  much  more  successful.  Helps  had  always 
been  of  a  delicate  constitution,  and  during  his  later  years  he 
suffered  from  pecuniary  anxieties  which  somewhat  preyed  upon 
his  health.  A  brief  illness  carried  him  away  March  7,  1875. 
Helps  was  a  man  of  sterling  integrity,  a  conscientious  worker 
a  lover  of  accuracy  both  in  political  and  literary 

Character  as  a  .        _      .  ,  ,  ,  ,     ,. 

man  and  a  work.     Eminently     gentle     and    sympathetic, 

he  shrank  from  the  rough  world  of  political 
strife,  in  which  otherwise  he  might  have  attained  high  distinc- 
tion, and  devoted  himself  with  a  strong  feeling  of  duty  to 
making  this  imperfect  world  better.  He  had  a  keen 
sense  of  the  misery  caused  in  the  world  by  thoughtless- 
ness, injustice,  and  the  abuse  of  power.  All  his  writing  is 
suffused  with  the  passion  of  the  social  reformer.  There  is  a 
somewhat  feminine  delicacy  and  charm  about  his  literary 
style,  which  is  the  exact  reflex  of  his  characteristics  as  a  man. 
Simplicity,  straightforwardness,  and  an  absence  of  dogmatism 
mark  his  composition  ;  he  has  a  quiet  faith  in  the  strength  of 
right  and  a  certain  hope  of  its  final  triumph. 

QUOTATIONS. 

When  a  matter  is  made  public,  to  proclaim  that  it  had  ever 
been  confided  to  your  secrecy  may  be  no  trifling  breach  of  con- 
fidency  ;  and  it  is  the  only  one  which  is  then  left  for  you  to  commit. 
Essays  j  Secrecy. 

Remember  that  in  giving  any  reason  at  all  for  refusing,  you 
lay  some  foundation  for  a  future  request.  lb.  Treatment  of 
Suitors. 


456  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

There  is  a  deafness  peculiar  to  suitors  ;  they  should  therefore 
be  answered  as  much  as  possible  in  writing.  lb. 

Its  (party-spirits)  insidious  prejudices,  like  dirt  and  insects  on 
the  glass  of  a  telescope,  will  blur  the  view,  and  make  them  see 
strange  monsters  where  there  are  none.  lb.  Party-Spirit. 

Our  prejudices  imprison  us  :  and  like  madmen,  we  take  our 
jailors  for  a  guard  of  honour.  lb. 

It  is  a  common  thing  for  people  to  expect  from  gratitude  what 
affection  alone  can  give,  lb.  Aids  to  Contentment. 

Depend  upon  it,  the  most  fatal  idleness  is  that  of  the  heart.  lb. 


FKOUDE  (1818-1894.) 

James  Anthony  Froude,  a  vivid  historian  and  fine  prose- 
writer,  was  born  at  Dartington,  Devon  (near 
Ped6uncatfonand  Totnes,  of  which  his  father  was  archdeacon), 
April  23,  1818.  His  eldest  brother,  Richard 
Hurrell,  took  a  prominent  part  in  the  Oxford  Movement:  his 
younger  brother  William  was  a  distinguished  naval  engineer. 
James  was  educated  at  Westminster  School  and  at  Oriel 
College,  Oxford,  where  he  took  second  class  honours,  won 
the  Chancellor's  English  Essay  prize,  and  in  1842  was  elected 
a  Fellow  of  Exeter  College.  He  was  ordained  deacon  in 
1844,  and  became  a  zealous  disciple  of  Newman. 

Newman's  secession  to  Rome  in    1845    shook    the    founda- 
tions   of    his    religious    belief,     and     Carlyle 
NeFaithS'°f  became    his 'spiritual    leader.     His    wavering 

faith  found  expression  in  a  pseudonymous 
novel,  Shadows  of  the  Clouds  (1847)  >  ar,d  his  complete 
scepticism  was  openly  avowed  in  the  semi-autobiographical 
Nemesis  of  Faith  (1849).  This  avowal  cost  him  his  Fellow- 
ship and  an  appointment  in  Tasmania,  whereupon  he  took  to 
literature  for  his  profession. 

In  addition  to  magazine  work  he  wrote  a  History    of  Eng- 
land from  the  fall  of  Wolsey  to    the    defeat   of 

Literary  career.  j  j  j  j  j 

the  Armada  (1856-1869)  ;  The  English  in 
Ireland  in  the  18th  century  (1 871-1874)  ;  Short  Studies  on 
Great  Subjects  (1867- 1877)  ;  Julius  Cccsar  (1879)  ;  Remini- 
scences of  Carlyle  (1881)  and  Life  of  Carlyle  (1882),  whose 
executor  he  was;  Oceana  (1886)/  The  English  in  the  West 
Indies  (1888);  The  Tivo  Chiefs  of  Dunboy  (1889),  an  un- 
successful historical  novel  ;  The  Life  cf  Lord  Beaconsfield 
(1890)  ;  and  the  Divorce  of  Catherine  of  Ar agon  (1891),  His 
latest  works  Erasmus  and  English  Seamen  were  published — 
the    former   just    before    and   the    latter    soon  after  his  death. 


458  A   HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

In  1868  he  was  elected  Rector  of  St.  Andrew's    University. 

In  1872  he  lectured  successfully  in  the  United 
°2ente*fi£"      States.     In  1874  and  1875  he  was  sent  by  the 

Colonial  Secretary,  Lord  Carnarvon,  on  im- 
portant political  missions  to  South  Africa.  In  these  he 
showed  himself  injudicious  and  wanting  in  tact  ;  as  he  was 
also  in  the  Colonial  visits  recorded  in  Oceana.  On  the  death 
of  his  bitter  critic  Freeman  in  1892,  he  was  appointed  Regius 
Professor  of  History  at  Oxford.  He  was  twice  married.  His 
first  wife,  a  sister  of  Mrs.  Charles  Kingsley,  died  in  i860,  and 
his  second  wife  in  1886.  Froude  died  Oct.  20,  1894  at  the 
Molt,  near  Salcombe  in  his  native  country. 

Froude    was    a    reserved    man,    with    strong      prejudices  ; 

genuinely  concientious  and  of  great  industry, 
mahnaa^Cdwrriter.a      but    naturally    careless    and    inaccurate.     He 

had  a  powerful  imagination  and  a  keen 
historic  sense  ;  so  that  he  made  history  a  living  thing,  in 
which  the  interplay  of  feelings  and  motives  among  the  chief 
actors  became  prominently  conspicuous.  But  his  'congenital 
inaccuracy,"  and  his  vehement  partizanship  are  serious  faults 
in  a  historian.  He  was  intensely  patriotic,  and  had  a  keen 
sense  of  England's  greatness  and  of  the  duty  which  that 
greatness  laid  upon  all  her  sons.  His  style,  as  Saintsbury 
says,  'has  neither  the  popular  and  slightly  brusque  appeal  of 
Macaulay  or  Kinglake,  nor  the  unique  magnificence  of 
Ruskin...It  is  never  flat,  ne-er  merely  popular,  never  merely 
scholarly,  never  merely  "precious"  and  eccentric  ;  and  at  its 
very  best  it  is  excelled  by  no  style  in  this  century,  and  ap- 
proached by  few  in  this  or  any  other,  as  a  perfect  harmony  of 
unpretentious  music,  adjusted  to  the  matter  that  it  conveys, 
and  lingering  on  the  ear  that  it  reaches. 

QUOTATIONS. 

No     vehement    error    can  exist    in    this    world    with    impunity. 
Spinoza. 

The  poet  is  the  truest  historian.    Homer. 

Wild  animals  never  kill   for   sport.     Man    is   the   only   one   to 


FROUDE.  459 

whom  the   torture  and  death  of  his   fellow-creatures  is  amusing  in 
itself.  Oceana. 

A   nation  with    whom    sentiment    is  nothing    is  on  the  way  to 
cease  to  be  a  nation  at  all.  lb. 

Nations  are  but  enlarged  schoolboys.  lb. 

Moderate    reformers    always    hate  those    who  go  beyond  them. 
Erasmus,  Lecture  20. 


KINGSLEY  (1819-1875). 

Charles  Kingsley,  a  clergyman  of  varied  accomplishments 
Birth  and  educa-  anc*  endowed  with  a  talent  closely  allied  to 
tion-  genius,    was    born    at     Holne     vicarage    near 

Dartmoor,  amidst  some  of  the  loveliest  scenery  in  England, 
June  12,  1 8 1 9.  His  father  was  vicar  of  Holne.  From  child- 
hood onwards  he  was  a  great  lover  of  open  air  sports  and  of 
the  sea ;  and  he  showed  a  marked  literary  taste.  He  was 
educated  at  King's  College,  London,  and  at  Magdalen  College, 
Cambridge,  where  he  took  a  first  class  in  the  Classical  Tripos 
of  1842. 

Soon  afterwards  he  was  ordained  curate  at  Eversley  Hamp- 
shire,   and  in  1844,    the  vear  of   his  marriage, 

Career.  '  **'  J  .  .         ° 

was  appointed  rector,  a  position  which  he 
held  till  his  death.  In  i860  he  became  Professor  of  Modern 
History  at  Cambridge.  The  Roman  and  the  Teuton  (1864)  was 
the  permanent  fruit  of  this  appointment.  In  1869  he  exchang- 
ed this  post  for  a  canonry  at  Chester  ;  and  in  18-3  he  was 
transferred  to  a  canonry  at  Westminster  and  became  a  Queen's 
chaplain.  In  1871  he  realized  the  dream  of  his  life  in  a 
voyage  to  the  West  Indies,  his  experiences  of  which  were 
recorded    in    his    At    Last.      He  died    at  Eversley  January  23, 

l875- 

His  first  appearance    as  an  author  was    in  The  Saint's  Tra- 
gedy (1848),  a  dramatic  presentment  of  mediae- 
Literary  and  so-       s    •*  v      *  "  r  , 
ciai  work.            val  piety,  based    on  the    life    of    St.  Elizabeth 

of  Hungary.  In  1849  he  published  two  bold  Socialist  novels, 
Alton  Locke  and  Yeast,  in  the  latter  of  which  he  gave  voice  to 
the  'divine  discontent'  of  his  age  in  matters  of  religion  even 
more  than  in  social  questions.  During  this  time  and  onwards 
he  worked  with  F.  D.  Maurice  in  the  'Christian  Socialist' 
movement ;  his  tracts  and  pamphlets  bearing  the  pseudonym 
of   'Parson  Lot'.      In    1853    appeared     Hypatia,    a    powerful 


KINGSLEY.  461 

presentation  of  the  conflict  between  Pagan  philosophy  and 
medieval  Christianity.  In  1855  he  published  his  greatest  novel 
Westward  Ho,  a  stirring  tale  of  Elizabethan  adventure,  in  which 
the  defeat  of  the  Spanish  Armada  serves  to  bring  about  the 
climax  of  the  hero's  fortunes.  Two  Years  Ago  (1857),  based 
upon  the  Crimean  War  and  the  cholera  visitation,  is  mainly  a 
contrast  between  the  Kingsleyan  hero,  a  sceptical,  much-travel- 
led doctor,  Tom  Thurnall,  and  the  morbidly  sentimental  poet, 
Elsley  Vavasour.  In  1863  he  wrote  for  children  the  charming 
half-satirical,  half-ethical  fairy-tale  The  Water  Babies.  In 
1864  he  became  involved  in  an  unfortunate  controversy  with 
J.  H.  Newman  (1 801- 1890),  in  which  his  hot  temper  and  lack  of 
controversial  skill  caused  him  to  make  the  better  cause  appear 
the  worse.  Hereivard  the  Wake  (1866),  the  interest  of  which 
centres  in  Saxon  opposition  to  the  inevitable  Norman  Conquest, 
closed  the  series  of  his  novels.  His  chief  other  books  were 
Glaucus  (1854),  a  study  of  seaside  wonders,  and  The  Heroes 
(1856),  in  which  he  tells  the  principal  stories  of  Greek 
mythology  to  children  so  as  to  bring  out  their  latent  spiritual 
meaning. 

Kingsley  was  a  most  earnest  reformer,  a  sincere  Christian, 
Character  as  a  ar>d  a  zealous  parish  priest.  Cheerful  and 
man  and  a  writer.  maniy)  he  is  the  prophet  of  what  has  been 
called  '  muscular  Christianity.'  His  domestic  life  was  one  of 
ideal  beauty.  In  poetry  he  has  made  in  A?idro??ieda  the  best 
attempt  at  naturalizing  that  troublesome  exotic,  the  hexameter, 
and  his  various  songs  and  short  poems  are  of  high  merit ;  but 
it  is  in  his  novels  that  he  is  greatest.  'The  best  passages', 
writes  Saintsbury,  'of  Kingsley's  description,  from  Alton  Locke 
to  Hereivard,  are  almost  unequalled  and  certainly  unsurpassed. 
The  shadows  of  London  low  life  and  of  working-class  thought 
in  Alton  Locke,  imitated  with  increasing  energy  for  half  a  century 

have  never  been  quite  reached Few  better  historical    novels 

than    Westward   Ho  have  ever   been    written.'     To    which  we 
may  add  that  perhaps  no  scene  in    English    literature    is   more 
.subtle,    dramatic,    and  fascinating  than  the  one  in  which  Salva- 
tion Yeo  recognises  in  the  Indian  girl  on  board  the  little   maid 


462  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

of  his  life-long  quest,  linked  as  it  is  with  the  quaint  charm  of 
a  sailor's  'chanty'  and  the  haunting  loveliness  of  the  North 
Devon  coast. 

QUOTATIONS. 

He  did  not  know  that  a  keeper  is  only  a  poacher  turned  inside 
out,  and  a  poacher  a  keeper  turned  outside  in.  Water  Babies, 
Chap.  I. 

The  most  wonderful  and  the  strongest  things  in  the  world,  you 
know,  are  just  the  things  which  no  one  can  see.     lb.  Chap.   2. 

This  noble  soul, 

Worth  thousand  prudish  clods  of  barren  clay. 

Who  mope  for  heaven  because  earth's  grapes  are  sour.  Saint's. 
Tragedy,  Act.  II.  3. 

Vet  waste  men's  lives,  like  the  vermin's, 

For  a  few  more  brace  of  game.      The  Bad  Squire. 

Worse  housed  than  your  hacks  and  your  pointers, 

Worse  fed  than  your  hogs  and  your  sheep.     lb. 

He  that  will  not  live  by  toil. 

Has  no  right  on  English  soil.     Alton  Locke's  Song. 

For  men  must  work  and  women  must  weep, 

And  the  sooner  it's  over,  the  sooner  to  sleep.      Three  Fishers. 

Be  good,  sweet  maid,  and  let  who  will  be  clever  ; 

Do  noble  things,  not  dream  them,  all  day  long  ; 

And  so  make  Life,  Death,  and  that  vast  For  Ever, 
One  grand  sweet  Song.     Farewell.  To  C.  E.  G. 


GEORGE  ELIOT  (1819-1880) 

George  Eliot  (Mary  Ann  Evans),  the  greatest  of  English 
Birth  and  paren-       women-novelists,    was    born    at  Arbury  Farm, 

tage  near     Nuneaton,       Warwickshire,     November 

22,  1819.  Her  father,  Robert  Evans  was  a  trusted  land  agent 
shrewd,  chiefly  self-taught,  one  of  those  men  whose  religion 
lies  in  conscientious  work  ;  a  genuine  Tory  of  the  old  school. 
Adam  Bede  and  Mr.  Garth  in  Middlemarch,  especially  the 
latter,  are  idealizations  of  his  personality.  Mary  Ann  was 
the  youngest  of  three  children  by  a  second  marriage  ;  there 
were  two  children  by  the  first.  Her  mother  was  of  a  somewhat 
superior  social  position,  and  appears  to  have  had  a  touch  of 
the  caustic  wit  of  Mrs.  Poyser  in  Adam  Bede,  while  her 
mother's  family  stood  as  models  for  the  Dodsons  in  The  Mill 
on  the  Floss.  The  latter  novel  indeed  is  to  a  great  extent 
George  Eliot's  own  spiritual  autobiography,  excluding  of  course 
its  external  incidents. 

In  March  1820  her  family  removed  to  Griff,  a  charming 
red-brick,   ivy-covered    house    on    the  Arbury 

Education. 

estate.  Here  Mary  Ann  lived  for  the  first 
twenty-one  years  of  her  life,  and  its  surroundings  and  society 
were  her  chief  educators  for  her  future  work.  She  went  to  good 
ordinary  schools,  and  was  so  far  well  grounded  at  them  that, 
when  at  the  age  of  seventeen  she  became  her  father's  house- 
keeper in  consequence  of  her  mother's  death  and  her  elder 
sister's  marriage,  she  carried  on  her  own  education  in  German, 
Italian,  and  music,  and  kept  up  a  regular  course  of  standard 
reading.  While  at  school  in  Coventry,  strong  Evangelical 
fervour  was  instilled  into  her  by  her  two  school  teachers, 
daughters  of  a  Baptist  Minister,  who  stood  as  the  model  for 
that  almost  unique  creation,  Rufus  Lyon  in  Felix  Holt.  That 
fervour  was  intensified  by  the  influence  of  her  aunt,  Mrs. 
Samuel  Evans,  a  Methodist  preacher,  who  in  like  manner  is 
idealised  as  Dinah  Morris  in  Adam  Bede. 


464  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

In  1 84 1  Mr.  Evans  moved  to  Coventry,    where    Mary    Ann 
soon    became     familiar     with     persons     who 

Life  at  Coventry.  r 

revolutionized  her  whole  life.  These  were 
Charles  Bray  and  his  brother-in-law,  Charles  Hennell,  both 
thorough-going  sceptics  in  matters  of  dogmatic  religion. 
A  book  written  by  the  latter,  entitled  An  Enquiry  concerning 
the  Origin  of  Christianity  speedily  sapped  the  foundations 
of  Mary  Ann  Evans's  old  religious  beliefs.  But  what 
chiefly  moved  her  were  two  things :  first,  the  union  of  a 
low  morality  with  intense  dogmatism  which  she  found  so 
common  among  the  Methodists  of  her  acquaintance  ;  and 
next,  the  vividness  with  which  Sir.  Walter  Scott's  novels  made 
her  feel  that  lofty  enthusiasms  and  high  morality  had  no 
necessary  connexion  with  religious  belief.  To  the  end  of  her 
life  she  was  wholly  sceptical  as  to  all  forms  of  religious  dogma ; 
but  strongly  convinced  that  the  religious  life  which  is  built  up 
intellectually  on  a  basis  of  dogma  has  in  reality  its  roots  far 
deeper  down.  This  habit  of  mind  is  a  marked  characteristic 
of  all  George  Eliot's  novels  •,  it  gave  her  vivid  insight  into 
types  of  intense  religion  so  widely  different  as  the  Nonconfor- 
mist Rufus  Lyon,  the  Wesleyan  Dinah  Morris,  the  Catholic 
Savanarola,  and  the  Jew  Mordecai. 

George  Eliot's  literary  career  divides  itself  naturally  into  two 
periods.  The  first  began  with  her  laborious 
LifrrrsatrpeCrtoder :  translation  of  Strauss's  Leben  Jesu  (1846). 
The  death  of  her  father  in  1849,  whom  she  had 
nursed  with  devoted  care  during  his  last  illness,  was  a  severe 
shock  to  her  affectionate  nature.  The  Brays  took  her  for  a 
tour  on  the  Continent,  where  she  formed  a  close  and  perman- 
ent friendship  with  M.  and  Mme.  D'Albert,  and  lived  with 
them  for  some  time  at  Geneva.  On  her  return  to  England 
she  met  Dr.  Chapman,  editor  of  'The  Westminster  Review,' 
who  induced  her  to  write,  for  that  magazine,  a  review  article 
which  appeared  in  the  January  number,  1S51.  In  September 
of  that  year  she  became  assistant-editor,  and  made  her  home 
with  the  Chapmans.  The  'Westminster'  has  never  been  a 
financial  success  ;  but  it  was  for  a  long   time    the    chief    organ 


GEORGE    ELIOT.  465 

of  higher  philosophic  thought ;  and  Miss  Evans's  position  as 
sub-editor  was  both  socially  and  intellectually  a  most  valuable 
education.  She  had  perforce  to  keep  abreast  of  the  most 
advanced  thought  in  England,  France,  and  Germany,  and  she 
was  in  close  and  constant  literary  communion  with  the  leading 
experts  in  philosophy  and  literature.  Among  these  were 
Herbert  Spencer,  Carlyle,  Francis  Newman,  Harriet  Martineau, 
J.  A.  Froude,  Theodore  Parker,  Greg,  Forster,  Mazzini,  and 
lastly  the  brilliant  and  versatile  George  Henry  Lewes. 

Lewes  had  married  in  1840,  but  his  wife  had   forsaken    him 
under   circumstances    which   precluded  a  legal 

Second  period.  ..  r..  ,        ,  ,   , 

divorce.  His  nome  was  broken  up,  and  he  was 
practically  a  widower.  Mary  Ann  Evans  had  gradually  learned 
to  love  him  ;  and  they  entered  upon  a  non-legal  union  in  1854. 
After  a  year  spent  abroad  they  settled  in  England,  and  now 
began  the  second  period  of  her  literary  career.  Lewes  soon 
detected  the  genius  latent  in  his  wife's  literary  hackwork. 
Encouraged  by  his  sympathy  and  advice,  she  wrote  a  tale.  The 
Sad  Fortunes  of  the  Rev.  Amos  Barton  ;  and  Lewes  persuaded 
the  Editor  of  'Blackwood's  Magazine'  to  accept  it.  Mr.  Gilfil's 
Love  Story  and  Janet's  Repentance  followed,  and  in  1858  all 
three  were  published  together  as  Scenes  of  Clerical  Life  These 
tales  all  appeared  under  the  pseudonym  'George  Eliot,'  which 
thenceforward  became  the  name  by  which  she  was  always 
spoken  of  and  thought  of  even  after  her  real  personality  had 
become  known.  These  Scenes  were  warmly  appreciated  by  the 
leaders  of  literature.  Carlyle  was  enthusiastic  ;  still  more  so 
was  Dickens,  who  avowed  his  certainty  that  'George  Eliot'  was 
a  woman.  Adam  Bede  followed  in  1859,  a  triumphant  success, 
most  critics  regarding  it  as  her  masterpiece.  Mrs.  Poyser  is  as 
original  as  and  even  more  genuinely  humourous  than  Dickens's 
Sam  Weller.  The  Mill  on  the  Floss  (i860);  Silas  Marner 
(1861),  a  perfect  gem  ;  Romola  (1862-3),  a  story  >f  Italian  life 
centering  in  Savanarola's  mission  and  martyrdom,  the  hero  of 
which,  Tito  Melema,  is  a  subtle  study  in  the  slow  ruin  of  an 
artistic,  pleasure-loving  soul,  who  wrecks  the  happiness  of  his 
heroic  wife  ;  and  Felix  Holt  the  Radical  (1866),  were  followed 
30 


466  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

by  two  poems  :  The  Spanish  Gypsy  (1868),  a  fairly  good  drama 
in  blank  verse,  and  The  Legend  of  Jubal  and  other  Poems 
(1874)  Her  novels  recommenced  with  M idd/emarch  (1873), 
an  exhaustive  and  subtle  study  of  English  middle-class  life, 
with  its  dreary  futiliiies,  its  narrow  selfishness,  and  its  thwarted 
heroism.  Darnel  Deronda  (1876)  is  a  profoundly  sympathetic 
study  of  Jewish  heredity  clashing  with  all  that  is  most  refined 
and  attractive  in  the  associations  of  a  liberal  English  education. 
In  this  novel  'Grandcourt  Mallinger'  is  George  Eliot's  most 
powerful  embodiment  of  the  spirit  of  evil  as  we  know  it  in 
modern  civilisation.  Her  last  book,  The  Impressions  of  Theo- 
phrastus  Such  1 1879),  >s  a  collection  of  essays  of  not  very  high 
merit. 

Lewes  died  November  28,  1878  ;  and  his  death    ended    her 
literary  career.     Without  the  inspiration  of   his 

Death-  1  U  I  J      J  L-  1 

love  she  could  do  nothing,  as  she  was  never 
weary  of  reiterating.  One  of  their  intimate  friends,  Mr.  T.  W. 
Cross,  left  desolate  by  his  mother's  death,  had  taken  to  the 
solace  of  studying  Dante.  George  Eliot  kindly  offered  to  act 
as  his  tutor,  and  the  association  ended  in  their  marriage  in  May 
1880.  Her  constitution,  however,  was  under-mined  by  her  fatal 
loss;  and  a  slight  chill  brought  about  the  illness  of  which  she 
died,  December  22,  1880. 

The  most  remarkable  illustration  of  the  close  union  between 

the  woman  and   her    work    is   that    everybody 
personal  and        thinks    of    'George   Eliot'  as  if  it  were  her  real 

literary.  rT  ,.  ,       .         ,  . 

name.  Her  literary  work  is  throughout  a 
woman's  work  ;  she  is  an  incarnation  of  'the  eternal  feminine 
which  draws  Man  heavenwards.'  Hut  she  was  a  woman  who 
was  familiar  with  the  chief  languages  of  Europe,  could  read 
Latin.  Greek,  and  Hebrew  with  pleasure  ;  was  well  versed  in  the 
most  abstruse  philosophical  speculations  as  well  as  in  the  out- 
lines of  modern  science  ;  and  could  successfully  undertake  the 
severest  drudgery  in  mastering  antiquarian  or  historical  details. 
With  all  this  she  was  a  perfect  housewife  and  capable  of  strong 
sympathy  and  affection.  Above  all  she  was  a  woman  to  whom 
a   man's   love   was   as  the  very  breath  of  her  nostrils.     George 


GEORGE    ELIOT.  467 

Eliot  possessed  a  wonderful  power  of  observation,  shown  in  her 
pictures  of  rustic  and  middle-class  society  which  are  true  to  the 
life.  Her  humour,  like  Thackeray's,  is  sometimes  touched 
with  sarcasm.  Her  command  of  pathos  is  undeniable  ;  mingled 
with  something  of  the  old  Greek  'irony'  it  dominates  some  of 
her  situations,  as  in  the  case  of  Maggie  Tulliver,  with  telling 
effect.  She  has  more  constructive  talent  than  Dickens  or 
Thackeray  ;  her  stories,  unlike  theirs,  have  a  carefully  elaborat- 
ed plot  and  centre  in  a  catastrophe. 

From  the  date  of  Adam   Bede   onwards    George    Eliot    was 
Adverse  almost    as    popular    as     Scott     or     Dickens ; 

certainly    more    popular   than  Thackeray.    But 
towards  the  end,  with  Daniel  Deronda  and   Theophrastus    Such, 
her    popularity    declined.     It  became  the  fashion  with  a  certain 
clique  to  disparage  her  ;   and  the  fashion  has  spread.     The  two 
things  laid  to  her  charge  are — (i)  that  scientific  or  philosophical 
speculation  over-rides  her  imagination,  and  that  her  later  novels 
are  mainly   stalking-horses    for   the    presentment    of    doctrinal 
fads;    (2)    that    her    gallery    of    men  contains  only  portraits  of 
women  in  disguise       The  first  criticism  may  be  partially  true  of 
some   passages    in    Daniel    Deronda    and   of    the      Savanarola 
episodes  of  Romola,  a  novel  which  she  felt  to   be    weary    work. 
She    does    undoubtedly    interpolate    scientific    or  philosophical 
digressions  into  her  story-telling,  but  to  a  far    less    extent    than 
Thackeray  ;    nor    in    either  case  does  this  questionable  habit  at 
all  enfeeble  the  writer's  dramatic  power.     The  second  criticism 
is  untrue  to  the  facts.     No  more  genuine  portraits  of  men  were 
ever  drawn  than  Mr.  Gilfil,  Adam  Bede,  Rufus  Lyon,  or    Caleb 
Garth.       The    only  ground  for  the  objection  appears  to  be  that 
George  Eliot  never    had    any    tolerance    for    the    moral    laxity 
which   some    falsely    regard    as    essential  to  true  virility.     The 
highest   genius    is    evolved    when    a   woman-soul  is  added  to  a 
•man's  whole  virile  being ;    Shakespeare    was    such.     The    next 
highest    type    of    genius    is  when  a  man's  soul  is  incarnate  in  a 
woman  ;  such  was  George  Eliot. 


468  A    HANDBOOK    OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

QUOTATIONS. 

We  are  apt  to  be  kinder  to  the  brutes  that  love  us  than  to  the 
women  that  love  us.  Is  it  because  the  brutes  are  dumb?  Adam 
Bede,  Chap.  4. 

Her  (Mrs.  Poyser's)  tongue  was  not  less  keen  than  her  eye, 
and,  whenever  a  damsel  came  within  earshot,  seemed  to  take  up 
an  unfinished  lecture,  as  a  barrel-organ  takes  up  a  tune,  precisely 
at  the  point  where  it  had  left  off.     lb.  Chap.  6. 

'  It's  but  little  good  you'll  do  a-watering  the  last  year's  crop.' 
(Mrs.  Poyser)  lb.  Chap.  18. 

'  It's  them  as  take  advantage  that  get  advantage  i'  this  world.' 
(Mrs.  Poyser)  lb.  Chap.  32. 

'  I  never  seed  a  ghost  myself  ;  but  then  I  says  to  myself,  '"Very 
like  I  haven't  got  the  smell  for  'em  "  I  mean  putting  a  ghost  for  a 
smell  or  else  contrairiways.'  (The  landlord)  Silas  Marner, 
Chap.  6. 

The  long  pipes  gave  a  simultaneous  movement  (as  the  half- 
drowned  weaver  entered  the  public-house)  like  the  antennas  of 
startled  insects,  and  every  man  present  had  an  impression  that 
he  saw. ..an  apparition,     lb.    Chap.  7. 

'  If  old  Harry's  a  mind  to  do  a  bit  o'  kindness  for  a  holiday, 
like,  who's  got  anything  against  it  ?'  (The  Parish  Clerk.)  lb. 
Chap.  10. 

'  But  I  put  it  upo'  your  conscience,  Master  Marner,  as  there's 
one  of  'em  you  must  choose — ayther  smacking  or  the  coal-hole — 
else  she'll  get  so  masterful  there'll  be  no  holding  her.'  (Dolly 
Winthrop  on  education.    lb.  Chap.  14. 

The  gods  of  the  hearth  exist  for  us  still  ;  and  let  all  new  faith 
be  tolerant  of  that  fetishism,  lest  it  bruise  its  own  roots.  lb. 
Chap.  16. 

'  And  all  as  we've  get  to  do  is  to  trusten,  Master  Marner. ..to  do 
the  right  thing  as  far  as  we  know,  an  to  trusten.  For  if  us  as 
knows  so  little  can  see  a  bit  o'  good  and  rights,  we  may  be  sure 
as  there's  a  good  and  a  rights  bigger  nor  what  we  can  know... I  feel 
it  in  my  own  inside  as  it  must  be  so.'  (Dolly  Winthrop's  theology) 
lb.  Chap.  16. 

'  The  law;s  made  to  take  care  of  raskills.'  Mill  on  the  Floss, 
Bk.  in.,  Chap.  4. 


GEOROE   ELIOT.  469 

Hitherto  he  uhe  parish  priest)  had  been  rather  more  adored 
and  appealed  to  than  was  quite  agreeable  to  him  ;  but  now,  in 
attempting  to  open  the  ears  of  women  to  reason,  and  their  consci- 
ences to  justice,  on  behalf  of  Maggie  Tulliver,  he  suddenly  found 
himself  as  powerless  as  he  was  aware  he  would  have  been  if  he 
had  attempted  to  influence  the  shape  of  bonnets.  lb.  Bk.  VII, 
Chap.  4. 


RUSKIN  (1819-1900). 

John  Ruskin,  the  prophet  at  once  of  art  and  social    reform, 

was  born  in  London   February    8,  1819.     His 

Birth  and  Educa-      father    was    a    successful    wine-merchant,    'an 

tion. 

entirely  honest  man,'  whose  virtues  have  been 
chronicled  by  his  son  on  his  tomb  at  Shirley  Church,  near 
Croydon.  His  mother  was  her  husband's  first  cousin,  and 
John,  their  only  son,  was  always  delicate.  He  never  went 
to  school,  but  was  allowed  a  large  liberty  in  self-develop- 
ment, writing  verses  and  drawing,  and  above  all  travelling 
about  all  over  the  kingdom  and  on  the  Continent  with  his 
father  and  mother.  In  1837  he  matriculated  at  Christ  Church, 
Oxford,  having  previously  attended  lectures  at  King's  College, 
London.  In  1839  he  won  the  Newdigate  Prize  for  Poetry  ; 
but  ill-health  compelled  him  to  give  up  the  idea  of  taking 
Holy  Orders,  and  his  parents  gave  him  the  benefit  of  entire 
change  of  air  and  scene  by  a  long  tour  on  the  Continent. 
With  the  subsequent  help  of  a  private  tutor  at  home  he  took  a 
pass  degree  in  1842. 

Ruskin  made  his  mark  by  the  first    volume    of    his    Modern 
Painters  (1843),  proving   philosophically    their 

Literary  career.  J/     r  or  •   n      . 

superiority  to  the  ancients,  especially  by  the 
paintings  of  Turner.  The  four  remaining  volumes  were  pub- 
lished at  intervals,  the  fifth  and  last  volume  in  i860.  In  1849 
he  published  The  Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture  ;  and  between 
1851  and  1853,  tne  three  volumes  of  The  Stones  of  Venice, 
perhaps  his  greatest  work.  He  had  now  established  his 
reputation  as  a  profound  and  original  exponent  of  the  principle 
of  art,  both  in  painting  and  in  architecture ;  and  took  the 
lead  in  the  development  of  the  '  Pre-Raphaelite  '  School 
of  painting  by  his  lectures,  Architecture  and  Painting  and  The 
Two  Paths  (1854),  with  Political  Economy  of  Art  (1858), 


RUSKIN.  471 

After  the  completion  of  Modern  Painters    in    i860    Ruskin 
_    .  .  „  r  entered  on  a  new  phase  of  his  career.     During 

Social  Reformer.  r  . 

a  sojourn  at  Chamounix  he  wrote  his  first 
attack  on  the  accepted  political  economy  of  the  day,  with 
its  utilitarian  ethics,  its  policv  of  laissez-faire,  its  confident 
belief  that  self-interest  and  the  law  of  competetion  would  solve 
every  social  problem.  Unto  this  Last  (1862)  was  followed  up 
by  Munera  Pulveris  (1865)  in  '  Fraser's  Magazine.'  His 
views  were  at  first  received  with  a  storm  of  opposition,  but 
later  he  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  supreme  authority  not 
only  in  art  but  in  economics  and  morals.  S'esame  ami  Lilies 
(1865)  is  a  guide  to  the  profitable  reading  of  books ;  The 
Crown  of  Wild  Olive,  and  Ethics  of  the  Dust  (1866)  are 
devoted  to  social  reform.  But  this  social  work  was  chiefly 
promoted  in  his  brilliant  irregular  serial,  Fors  Clavigera  (1871 
to  1884),  which  led  to  his  organisation  of  the  Guild  of  St. 
George,  an  association  for  carrying  out  in  practice  his  new 
principles. 

In    1869    Ruskin    was    elected  Slade  Professor  of  Fine  Art 

at    Oxford,    a  post  in  which  his  intense  enthu- 

siade  Professor ;      siasm  and  personal  charm    gave    him    a    great 

death.  v  ft  o 

influence  upon  the  undergraduate  world. 
He  did  for  Botticelli,  a  forgotten  Italian  painter,  what  he  had 
previously  done  for  Turner.  The  chief  of  his  books  published 
during  this  time  were  The  Queen  of  the  Air  (1869),  Ariadne 
Florentina  (1873),  and  Val  d'  Arno  (1874).  After  1883  he 
retired  from  the  Professorship  to  end  his  days  at  his  home  on 
Coniston  Lake.  Several  collections  of  lectures  and  articles 
were  published  by  him  after  his  retirement,  the  most  interest- 
ing for  their  absolute  frankness,  being  his  autobiographical 
sketches,  Prceterita  (1885-9).     He  died  January  20,  1900. 

The    chief    feature    of    Ruskin's   career  as  an  art  critic  and 
teacher  was  his  intense  moral    earnestness  and 

Characteristics. 

his  deep  conviction  of  the  kinship  between 
art  and  true  ethics.  As  a  man,  he  was  of  a  noble  and 
generous  disposition,  but  irritable  and  inclined  to  intolerance. 
He    is    a   master  of    language,  copious,  eloquent,  picturesque  ; 


472  A    HANDBOOK   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE. 

but  whose  very  splendour  is  apt  to  blind  us  to  his  not 
infrequent  fallacies  in  reasoning.  Ruskin,  as  a  modern 
critic  remarks,  succeeded  not  only  in  '  thinking  aloud,'  but 
in  writing  down  in  words  the  workings  of  his  brain.  This  is 
a  process  of  the  very  greatest  difficulty  ;  yet,  with  his  absolute 
mastery  over  words,  he  was  able  to  manipulate  them,  as  -in 
organist  his  notes  and  stops,  so  as  to  produce  exactly  the 
effect  he  wanted. 


QUOTATIONS. 

The  faculty  of  degrading  Gods  works  which  man  calls  his 
'imagination.'     Modern  Painters,  \.     Preface. 

They  are  good  furniture  pictures,  unworthy  of  praise,  and 
undeserving  of  blame.     lb.  I.  Part  n,  Chap.  I,  Sec.  20. 

Vulgarity  is  only  in  concealment  of  truth,  or  affectation.  lb.  11. 
Part  2,  Chap.  6,  Sec.  7. 

The  higher  a  man  stands,  the  more  the  word  '  vulgar  '  becomes 
unintelligible  to  him.     lb.  Ill,  Part  4,  Chap.  7,  Sec.  9. 

We  English  have  many  false  ideas  about  reverence  ;  we  should 
be  shocked,  for  instance,  to  see  a  market-woman  come  into  church 
with  a  basket  of  eggs  on  her  arm,  lb.  III.  Part  4,  Chap.  10,  Sec.  22. 

Going  by  railroad  I  do  not  consider  as  travelling  at  all  ;  it  is 
merely  being  'sent'  to  a  place,  and  very  little  different  from  be- 
coming a  parcel.     lb.  Ill,  Part  4,  Chap.  17,  Sec.  24. 

The  purest  and  most  thoughtful  minds  are  those  which  love 
colour  the  most.      The  Stones  of  Venice,  II,  Chap.  5,  Sec.  30. 

Speaking  truth  is  like  writing  fair,  and  only  comes  by  practice. 
The  Seven  Lamps,  Chap.  2,  Sec.  1. 

Among  the  first  habits  that  a  young  architect  should  learn,  is 
that  of  thinking  in  shadow.     lb.  Chap.  3,  Sec.  13. 

It  (a  railway  station)  is  the  very  temple  of  discomfort,  and  the 
only  charity  that  the  builder  can  extend  to  us  is  to  show  us,  plainly 
as  may  be,  how  soonest  to  escape  from  it.     lb.  Chap.  4,  Sec.  2r. 

A  little  group  of  wise  hearts  is  better  than  a  wilderness  of 
fools.     Crown  of  Wild  Olive  ;   War.  114. 


RUSKIN.  473 

Fine  art  is  that  in  which  the  hand,    the    head,    and   the    heart 
go  together.      The  Two  Paths,  Lecture  2. 

No  human  being,  however  great  or  powerful,  was    ever   so   free 
as  a  fish.     lb.   Lecture  5. 

You  may  either  win  your  peace  or  buy  it ;  win  it,  by  resistance 
to  evil  ;  buy  it,  by  compromise  with  evil.     lb.  Lecture  5. 

God  never  imposes  a  duty  without  giving  time  to  do  it.  Lectures 
on  Architecture,  No.  2. 


M.   ARNOLD   (1822-1888). 

Matthew  Arnold,  poet,  critic,  and  educationist,  was  born 
Birth  and  Paren-      at  Laleham  near  Staines,  December  24,   1822. 

tage.  His    father    was    the    headmaster    of     Rugby 

celebrated  in  Tom  Brotvn's  School-Days,  who  almost  revolu- 
tionised the  ideals  of  public  school  life.  His  mother  was  the 
daughter  of  a  Nottinghamshire  rector,  and  appears  to  have 
impressed  all  the  Rugby  boys  who  came  under  her  influence 
with  the  beauty  and  gentleness  of  her  disposition. 

He  was  educated  for  a  year  at  Winchester,  and  for  the  rest 
_J  of  his   school    course    at    Ruarby,    where    he 

Education.  °    -" 

wrote  a  prize  poem.  In  1840  he  entered 
Balliol  College.  Oxford  ;  and  here  also  he  won  the  Newdigate 
prize  with  his  poem  Cromwell.  In  1844  he  took  his  degree 
with  honours  in  the  second  class,  and  in  1845  was  elected  a 
Fellow  of  Oriel  College.  Here  he  was  associated  with  the 
poet  A.  H.  Clough  (1819-1861),  whose  death  he  mourned  in 
Thyrsis,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  his  lyrics. 

For  four  years  (1847-1851)  he  was  Private  Secretary  to 
inspector  of         Lord    Lansdowne -,  and    shortly  after  secured 

Schools.  an     appointment    as    Inspector    of    Schools, 

which  position  he  held  from  1 85 1  to  1886.  He  exercised  a 
great  influence  in  the  development  of  education  in  our  primary 
schools,  and  his  official  reports,  collected  and  published  in 
book  form  attracted  an  unusual  amount  of  public  attention. 
He  was  thrice  commissioned  by  Government  to  undertake 
enquiries  into  the  state  of  education  on  the  Continent ;  and 
his  reports  on  these  enquiries  are  recognised  as  authorities 
on  their  special  themes,  and  have  played  an  important  part  in 
educational  controversies. 

His  first  book  of  poetry  was  The  S hayed  Reveller  and 
Literary  Other  Poems  (1848),  signed  with  only  an    ini- 

career.  tja]       This    was    succeeded  in -185 2  by  Empe- 

docles  on    Etna    and    Other    Poems.     In    1853    and    1855    he 


M.    ARNOLD.  475 

published  under  his  own  name  selections  from  the  former 
volumes  with  new  poems  added.  This  gained  him  so  high  a 
reputation  that  in  1857  he  was  elected  Professor  of  Poetry  at 
Oxford,  an  office  which  he  held  for  ten  years.  In  1858  his 
classical  tragedy,  Merope,  appeared;  and  in  1867  his  New 
Poems.  During  his  Professorship  he  chiefly  devoted  himself 
to  scholarship  and  criticism,  publishing  On  Translating 
Homer  (1861),  On  the  Study  of  Celtic  Literature  (1867),  and 
two  series  of  Essays  in  Criticism,  \n  1866  and  in  1888.  In 
18S3  he  received  a  pension  of  ^250.  He  made  himself, 
however,  more  especially  known  to  the  public  by  his  fearlessly 
controversial  writings  on  religious  questions.  Such  were 
Culture  and  Anarchy  (1869),  St.  Paul  and  Protestantism 
(1870J.  Literature  and  Dogma  (1873),  God  and  the  Bible 
(1875),  and  Last  Essays  on  Church  and  Religion  (1S77J. 
Other  later  works  were  Mixed  Essays  (1 879),  Irish  Essays 
(1882),  and  Discourses  on  America  (1885).  In  the  year  1883 
and  again  in  1886  he  undertook  lecturing  tours  in  America; 
but  as  a  lecturer  he  was  not  very  successful.  His  sudden  death, 
from  heart  failure,  took  place  at  Liverpool  April  15,  1S88. 

Arnold  as  a  man  represented  the  best  type  of  the  cultured 
Character  :  o)  as  upper  middle  class  of  English  society.  He 
was  brought  up  under  the  most  favourable 
conditions  both  for  intellectual  and  moral  development.  Those 
who  knew  him  onlv  by  his  writings  imagined  him  to  be  some- 
what of  a  literary  coxcomb— an  entirely  false  idea.  Strenuous, 
manly,  and  energetic,  he  was  untainted  with  affectations  of  any 
kind,  literary  or  intellectual.  He  had  a  vein  of  kindly  humour 
which  is  but  slenderlv  represented  in  his  writings.  However 
keen  as  a  satirist,  he  was  always  most  urbane  in  tone  and 
expression.  And  above  all  things  he  was  sincere  ;  a  fearless  and 
honest  thinker,  who  never  tolerated  in  himself  or  others  the 
habitual  self-deceit  implied  in  the  disingenuous  acceptance  of 
established  conventions  either  in  religion  or  in  life. 

As  a  poet,  Arnold  is  often  spoken  of  as  if  his  chief    charac- 
teristic   were    the     '  Greek    temper,'   the  free, 

(2i  Asa  poet.  . 

joyous,  unquestioning  acceptance  of  life  as  we 


476  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

find  it  But  however  purely  Grecian  may  be  the  form  of  his 
•poetic  renderings  of  classical  themes,  they  are  always  infused 
with  the  modern  spirit  of  questionings,  of  strenuous  moral 
endeavour,  and  of  the  pain  of  spiritual  doubt.  In  one  of  his 
most  typical  poems.  Morality,  he  shows  how  impossible  for 
him  is  the  'free,  light,  cheerful  air'  of  Nature.  His  early  life 
■and  surroundings  brought  him  at  first  under  the  predominating 
influence  of  Wordsworth.  Later  he  became  an  outspoken  critic 
of  Wordsworth's  defects.  But  the  paramount  influence  that 
formed  his  genius  was  Milton  (with  whom  he  shares  a  conscious 
effort  after  classical  correctness)  and  to  a  less  extent  Gray. 
Keats  and  Tennyson  both  helped  to  mould  his  poetic  form. 
Arnold  himself  maintained  that  the  poet  ought  to  select  as  a 
subject  one  that  makes  a  powerful  appeal  to  the  elementary 
human  feelings  and  affections;  that  he  should  treat  this  as  a 
unity,  with  due  subordination  of  part  to  whole,  and  with  a 
sustained  and  even  dignity  of  action,  on  the  model  of  the  'grand 
style'  of  the  Greeks.  Saintsbury  declares  that  while  much  of 
Arnold's  verse  is  but  second-best,  'the  best  where  it  appears  is 
of  surpassing  charm — uniting  in  a  way,  of  which  Andrew  Marvell 
is  perhaps  the  best  other  example  in  English  lyric,  romantic 
grace,  feeling,  and  music,  to  a  classical  and  austere  precision 
of  style,  combining  nobility  of  thought  with  grace  of  expression, 
and  presenting  the  most  characteristically  modern  ideas  of  his 
own  particular  day  with  an  almost  perfect  freedom  from  the 
jargon  of  that  day,  and  in  a  key  always  suggesting  the  great 
masters,  the  great  thinkers,  the  great  poets  of  the  past.' 

It    was   by  his  Essays  in  Criticism,  with  its  stimulating  pre- 
face, that  Arnold  began  to  be  a  power    in    the 

-3»  Asa  critic  ° 

and  a  prose  world    of  literary  opinion.      He  undertook  the 

role  of  a  'Socrates  in  London'  and,  like  his 
prototype,  by  the  method  of  suggestive  questioning  and  by  a 
felicitous  irony,  he  succeeded  in  making  the  British  'Philistine' 
aware  of  his  own  deeprooted  defects.  That  appellation,  happily 
hitting  off  the  self-satisfied  insularity  of  the  middle  class 
English  intellect,  he  so  far  popularised  that  we  always  think  of 
him    as    its  originator.     Arnold    had    an    especial  admiration 


M.    ARNOLD.  477 

for  the  French  people,  with  their  susceptibility  to  ideas  ;  while 
he  correspondingly  deplored  the  absence  of  'sweetness  and 
ligiit',  the  want  of  'culture',  in  his  fellow-countrymen.  The 
style  of  this  criticism  was  novel  and  taking,  being  the  academic 
style  of  his  University,  coloured  by  idiosyncracies  of  his  own. 
Its  defect  lay  in  a  certain  mannerism,  a  trick  of  repeating 
words  and  phrases  in  order  to  give  an  air  of  conviction.  The 
polish  and  grace  of  his  satire,  in  which  he  rivals  Addison 
himself,  gave  both  piquancy  and  power  to  his  criticisms  He 
certainly  did  good  work  in  holding  up  for  imitation  the  excel- 
lencies of  Sainte-Beuve,  whom  fie  revered  as  his  master  in  the 
critic's  art.  He  was  possessed  of  great  rhetorical  power  and 
a  genius  for  inventing  telling  phrases,  so  apt  as  to  become 
proverbial,  and  familiar  to  many  who  have  never  studied  the 
writer  himself. 

The  most  useful  part  of  Arnold's  work  however  lay  in  the 
introductions  impetus  he  gave  to  the  intelligent,  popular 
to  the  poets.  study  of  our  standard  poets  by  his  critical  and 
exaplanatory  introductions  to  selected  Lives  from  Johnson's- 
Pnets  ;  by  his  introduction  to  Byron,  and  above  all  to  Words- 
wortn.  In  work  of  this  kind  he  is  unrivalled  ;  and  by  it  he 
has  probably  left  his  most  permanent  impress  on  literary  opini- 
on and  culture  in  England. 

Sohrab  and  Rustum  (1854^  is  a  narrative  poem,  founded  on 
•Sonrab  and  a  Persian  legend.     The  great  Persian    warrior 

Rustum  Rustum    had    a    son    Sohrab,    whom    he  had 

never  seen,  and  of  whose  existence  he  was  ignorant,  since  the 
mother  had  pretended  that  her  infant  was  a  girl.  Sohrab  left 
his  mother  and  gained  fame  in  arms  at  the  head  of  the  Tartar 
armies.  The  poem  describes  a  final  battle  in  which  Sohrab, 
seeking  to  win  the  love  of  his  undiscovered  father  Rustum  by 
a  heroic  exploit,  challenges  the  Persian  champion  and  is  mor- 
tally wounded  by  his  spear.  Too  late  the  aged  champion, 
who  is  really  Rustum  fighting  under  a  feigned  name,  finds  the 
token  which  proves  his  son's  identity.  The  style  is  in  many 
parts  strangely  reminiscent  of  Tennyson's  Morte  d'  Arthur 
(1842);  but  the  conclusion,    in    which    the    human    tragedy    is 


478  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

veiled  under  the  image  of  the  great  river  flowing  past  the  scene 
of  battle  to  its  destined  end,  is  a  magnificent  piece  of  organ- 
music  unique  of  its  kind  ;  less  majestic  than  Milton,  but  more 
profoundly  spiritual. 

Tristram  and  lseult  is  based  upon  the  same  legends  as 
Tristram  and  Tennyson's    Last    Tournament     and     Vivien  ; 

lseult  but  the  treatment  is  wholly  different,  and  rises 

to  a  far  higher  plane  of  thought.  The  young  knight  Tristram 
had  been  brought  up  in  the  court  of  his  uncle  Mark,  king  of 
Cornwall.  He  was  sent  to  fetch  lseult,  the  daughter  of  the 
King  of  Ireland,  for  her  bridal  with  Mark.  On  the  voyage  to 
Cornwall  by  misadventure  the  two  drank  of  the  magic  love- 
potion  which  had  been  prepared  for  Iseult's  marriage  with 
Mark.  This  wrecked  for  life  the  happiness  of  both.  Tristram 
had  to  flee  from  Mark's  jealous  anger  ;  he  went  to  Brittany  and 
there,  more  out  of  gratitude  than  love,  married  lseult  'of  the 
White  Hands'.  In  his  last  illness  he  sent  for  lseult  of  Corn- 
wall. The  poem  describes  their  meeting  and  his  death,  and 
the  subsequent  widowhood  of  lseult  of  Britanny,  who  lives 
thenceforth  only  for  her  children.  Tennyson's  version  makes 
Tristram  a  mere  coarse  animal,  who  is  killed  by  Mark  in  the 
critical  moment  of  a  guilty  intrigue  ;  he  is  used  only  as  a  foil 
to  set  off  the  'blameless  Arthur,'  and  to  help  to  explain  the 
downfall  of  his 'Table  Round'.  Tennyson's  Vivien  is  a  vivid 
description  of  an  evil  woman  of  real  flesh  and  blood  : 
while  Arnold's  version  of  the  legend  is  an  exquisitely  beauti- 
ful fairy-tale  told  by  the  widowed  lseult  to  her  children.  Tenny- 
son treats  the  rival  Iseults  on  the  conventional  lines  of  a 
Victorian  novel;  Arnold  has  the  daring  and  spiritual  in- 
sight to  make  the  two  women  meet,  just  as  George  Eliot  does 
with  the  two  in  Romola. 

The  Scholar-Gipsy,  based'  on  Glanvil's  story  of  an  Oxford 

student  forced  by  his  poverty  to  join  the  gipsy- 

Schoiar-Gipsy' ;        folk  and  learn  their  lore,    happily    introduces, 

'  Rugby   Chapel.'  KK    J 

in  harmony  with  the  central  theme,  descriptions 
of  all  Arnold's  favourite  nooks  and  by-ways  round  the 
Cherwell  and   the    Isis.     In    Rugby    Chapel   the   poet,    alone 


M.    ARNOLD.  479 

in  the  gathering  gloom,  thinks  of  his  father  laying  buried  there  ; 
or  rather  does  not  think  of  him  as  either  there  or  'alone.'  The 
memory  of  his  father's  life  comes  back  and  forces  him,  in  spite 
of  the  chill  agnosticism  of  his  intellect,  to  see  the  spiritual  heroes 
of  the  past,  his  father  among  them,  encouraging  the  stragglers 
and  heartening  the  wayworn  in  the  vast  disorderly  army  of  the 
pilgrims  through  the  desert  sands  of  Life  : — 

'Ye  fill  up  the  gaps  in  our  files, 
Strengthen  the  wavering  line, 
Stablish,  continue  our  march, 
On,  to  the  bound  of  the  waste, 
On  to  the  City  of  God.' 


QUOTATIONS. 

The  barren  optimistic  sophistries 

Of  comfortable  moles.      To  a  Republican  Friend. 

Others  abide  our  question.     Thou  art  free. 
We  ask  and  ask — Thou  smilest  and  art  still, 
Out-topping  knowledge.     Sonnet  on  Shakespeare. 

Yet  they  believe  me,  who  await 

No  gifts  from  chance,  have  conquered  fate.     Resignation. 

Not  here,  O  Apollo  ! 

Are  haunts  meet  for  thee.     Empedocles  on  Etna,  Act  II. 

The  day  in  his  hotness, 
The  strife  with  the  palm  ; 
The  night  in  her  silence, 
The  stars  in  their  calm.     lb. 

Her  look  was  like  a  sad  embrace  ; 

The  gaze  of  one  who  can  divine 

A  grief,  and  sympathize.      Tristram  and  Iseult,  Part  I. 

The  same  heart  beats  in  every  human  breast.     The  buried  Life. 

Children  of  men  !  the  Unseen  Power  whose  eye 
For  ever  doth  accompany  mankind, 
Hath  looked  on  no  religion  scornfully 
That  men  did  ever  find.     Progress. 


480  A    HANDBOOK   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Too  fast  we  live,  too  much  are  tried, 
Too  harassed,  to  attain 

Wordsworth's  sweet  calm,  or  Goethe's  wide 
And  luminous    view     to     gain.     In     Memory  of  the     Author 
of   iObermatin.' 

We  cannot  kindle  when  we  will 

The  fire  which  in  the  heart  resides  ; 
The  spirit  bloweth  and  is  still, 

In  mystery  our  soul  abides. 
But  tasks  in  hours  of  insight  willed 
Can  be  through  hours  of  gloom  fulfilled.     Morality. 

Culture  is  'to  know  the  best  that  has  been  said  and  thought 
in  the  world.'     Literature  and  Dogma,  Preface  (1873). 

Conduct  is  three-fourths  of  our  life,  and  its  largest  concern. 

lb.  Chap.   I. 

The  not  ourselves  which  makes  for  righteousness.     lb. 

Sweet    reasonableness.    St.   Paul  and    Protestantism,  Preface 

(1870). 


STEVENSON   (1850-1894). 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  a  fascinating  story-teller  and 
Parentage  and  brilliant  essayist,  was  born  in  Edinburgh 
education.  November  13,  1850.     He  was  always  dedicate, 

and  his  life  was  mostly  one  long  battle  with  disease.  This 
was  in  one  way  fortunate,  as  it  necessitated  open  air  activity, 
abundant  travel,  and  a  familiarity  with  life  in  the  tropics  which 
is  so  important  an  accessory  in  much  of  his  literary  work. 
Coming  from  a  family  of  light-house  builders,  he  began  to 
work  at  engineering  in  1866  ;  but  finding  the  physical  strain 
too  severe,  he  unwillingly  took  to  law  (1871).  But  he  never 
practised.  Having  been  addicted  from  a  child  to  romance 
reading  and  to  literary  composition,  more  especially  to  imitat- 
ing different  styles,  he  finally  adopted  literature  as  a  profession. 
An  exact  mastery  of  words  and  phrases  was  always  a  consum- 
ing passion  with  him.  In  1873  ne  nrs*  met:  Sidney  Colvin, 
who  became  his  lifelong  friend  and  materially  helped  his 
entrance  upon  a  literary  career. 

In  the  course  of  his  travels  Stevenson  met  a  Mrs.  Osbourne 
.,  .  (1876),  whom  he  afterwards  married  in    1880. 

Marriage  and  \  *"/"/> 

death  jjrer  son  Hoyd  Osbourne    subsequently    colla- 

borated with  his  step-father  in  The  Wrecker  (1892).  Stevenson's 
wife  and  stepson  were  warmly  welcomed  in  his  Scotch  home  ; 
but  his  health  compelled  repeated  visits  to  Davos  for  the  winter 
months.  The  south  of  France,  Bournemouth,  and  (after  his 
father's  death  in  18S7)  the  Adirondacks  in  America,  Honolulu, 
and  Sydnev  were  tried  from  time  to  time  as  residences  ;  and 
finally  he  found  rest  and  such  health  as  was  possible  at  Vailima, 
in  Samoa,  in  November  1890.  Here  he  became  a  pioneer 
settler  and  a  beloved  prince  among  his  Samoan  retainers  ;  and 
here  he  died  from  an  apoplectic  stroke  December  31,  1894. 

His  writings  comprise — An  Inland  Voyage  (1878),  Travels 
ivilh    a      Donkey       (1870)  :      The     Silverado 

Literary  career.  rtrt 

Squatters  (1880) ;  Virginibus  Puerisque  (1881); 
31 


482  A    HANDBOOK    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

the  sensational  New  Arabian  Nights  (1882)  ;  Treasure  Island 
(1883),  perhaps  his  most  popular  romance  ;  Prince  Otto 
(1885),  less  successful;  The  Master  of  Ballantrace  (1889)  ; 
The  Strange  Case  of  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde  (1826),  a  weird 
study  of  an  artificially  produced  double  personality  ;  Kidnapped 
(1886),  with  its  sequel  Catriona  (1893),  Weir  of  Hermiston, 
his  most  mature  and  characteristic  novel,  was  left  a  fragment. 
He  was  dictating  it  on  the  day  of  his  death.  The  Merry  Men 
and  other  Tahs  (1887)  is  named  from  a  subtle  sketch  of  a 
Calvinistic  Highland  wrecker.  The  Wrong  Box  (1888)  a 
farcical  romance,  was  written  in  conjunction  with  his  stepson. 

Stevenson   was    a    most  loveable  and  fascinating  man  ;  and 

Character  as  a      his  writings  reflect  his  inmost  self    more    fully 

man  and  a  writer.      tjian    jn    t^e    case  0f  aimost  any  other  author. 

And  perhaps  no  author  has  excelled  him  in  the  perfect  com- 
bination of  an  admirably  picturesque  and  polished  style  with 
the  fascination  of  a  born   story-teller. 

QUOTATIONS. 

A  little  amateur  painting  in  watercolour  shows  the  innocent 
and  quiet  mind.      Virginibus  Puerisque,  Part  1. 

Man  is  a  creature  who  lives  not  upon  bread  alone,  but  prin- 
cipally by  catchwords.     lb.  Part  2. 

The  cruellest  lies  are  often  told  in  silence.     lb.  Part  4. 

When  an  old  gentleman  waggles  his  head  and  says,  "Ah,  so  I 
thought  when  1  was  your  age,"  it  is  not  thought  an  answer  at  all, 
if  the  young  man  retorts:  "My  venerable  Sir,  so  I  shall  most 
probably  think  when  I  am  yours."  And  yet  the  one  is  as  good  as 
the  other.     Crabbed  Age  and  Youth. 

A  man  finds  he  has  been  wrong  at  every  preceding  stage  of 
his  career,  only  to  deduce  the  astonishing  conclusion  that  he  is  at 
last  entirely  right.     lb. 

There  is  no  duty  that  we  so  much  underrate  as  the  duty  of 
being  happy.     An  Apology  for  Idlers. 

He  sows  hurry  and  reaps  indigestion.     lb. 

Every  man  has  a  sane  spot  somewhere.  The  Wrecker. 


STEVENSON.  483 

To  call  her  a  young  lady,  with  all  its  niminy  associations, 
would  be  to  offer  her  an  insult.     An  Inland  Voyage. 

I  never  weary  of  great  churches.  It  is  my  favourite  kind  of 
mountain  scenery.  Mankind  was  never  so  happily  inspired  as 
when  it  made  a  Cathedral.      lb. 

Politics  is  perhaps  the  only  profession  for  which  no  preparation 
is  thought  necessary.      Yoshida-Torajiro. 

Language  is  but  a  poor  bull's-eye  lantern  wherewith  to  show 
off  the  vast  cathedral  of  the  world.      Walt  Whitman. 

I  hate  cynicism  a  great  deal  worse  than  I  do  the  devil  ;  unless, 
perhaps,  the  two  were  the  same  thing.     lb. 

Courage  respects  courage.      Travels  with  a  Donkey. 

There  is  nothing  an  honest  man  should  fear  more  timorously 
than  getting  and  spending  more  than  he  deserves.  Morality  of 
the  Profession  of  Letters. 

Let  any  man  speak  long  enough,  he  will  get  believers.  Master 
of  Ballantrae. 

Autumnal  frosts  enchant  the  pool 

And  make  the  cart-ruts  beautiful.      The  House  Beautiful. 

All  I  ask,  the  heaven  above, 

And  the  road  below  me.     The  Vagabond. 

The  child  that  is  not  clean  and  neat, 
With  lots  of  toys  and  things  to  eat, 
He  is  a  naughty  child.  I'm  sure — 

Or  else  his  dear  papa  is  poor.  A  Child's  Garden  of  Verses, 
No.   19. 


INDEX. 

The  references  are  to  the  pages.  Main  references  are  indicated 
by  the  insertion  of  'seq.'  after  the  page.  Titles  and  Subjects  are  in 
italics. 


Abbott,  E.  A.,  95,  197. 

Abou  ben  Adhem,  67. 

Absalom    and    Achitophel,    245, 

248  seq. 
Academy,  The,  89. 
Adam  Bede,  463,  465,  467. 
Adderley,  J.,  96. 
Addison,    252    seq.,   259,    262-3, 

435i  477- 
Adonais,  390-1. 

Adva?tcement  of  Learning,  193. 
After  Blenheim,  355. 
Ainsworth,  W.  H.,  65. 
Akenside,  42. 
Alas  tor,  304,  388. 
Alchemist ,  The,  18. 
Alexanders  Feast,  246. 
Alford,  H.,  96. 
Alfred  the  Great,  1. 
Alison,  Sir  A  ,  91. 
Allegory,  41,    100,    103   seq.    240, 

183-4. 
All  Fools,  19. 
All  for  Love,  244. 
Alls  Well  that  Ends  Well,  125. 
All  the  Year  Round,  88,  439  seq. 
Alliteration,  1,2. 
Althea,  To,  29. 
Alton  I^ocke,  460-1. 
Amelia,  50. 

American  Taxation,  On,  292. 
Amicus  Redivivus,  362. 
Amoretti,  100. 
Amory,  T.,  52. 
Analogy  of  Religion,  The,  52,93. 


Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  The,  25. 
Ancient  Mariner,  The,  322,    346, 

348  seq. 
Andrews,  Joseph,  50. 
Angel  in  the  House,  The,  76. 
Annus  Mirabilis,  244. 
Anster  Fair,  61. 
Anthea,  To,  29. 
Anti-Jacobin    Review,      The,    44, 

65  seq. 
Antiquity  of  Man,  The,  71. 
Antonio  and  Mellida,  19. 
Antony  and  Cleopatra,    127  seq. 

244. 
Apologia  pro  Vita  Sua,  95. 
Appius  and  Virginia,  20. 
Arbuthnot,  Dr.  J.,  46,  47  seq.,  261. 
Arbuthnot,  Epistle  to,  262. 
Arcades,  205-6. 
Arcadia,  23  seq.,  171,  353. 
Areopagitica,  i\\. 
Arethusa,  393. 
Arnold,  T.,  91-2,  313,  474. 
M.,  72,  81,  225,  296,  320, 

329,  397,  399,  474  seq. 
A  rraignment  of  Paris,  The,  1 4. 
Arthur,  Kin&,  2,  212,  418. 
As  You   LJke   It,    14,    [15,    108, 

157  seq. 
Ascent  of  Man,  The,  96. 
Ascham,  R.,  22. 
As  tree  a  Redux,  242. 
Astrophel  and  Stella  Sonnets,  8. 
Atalanta  in  Calydon,  74. 
Athcno'um,  The,  89  seq.,  444. 


486 


JNDEX. 


Atheists  Tragedy,  The,  21. 
Atlantis,  New,  The,  195. 
At  Last,  460. 
Atonement,  The,  97. 
Aurora  Leigh,  72  seq.,  450. 
Authorised  Version  of  the  Bible, 

The,  6,  25  seq. 
Austen,  Jane,  62,  357  seq.,  435. 
Aytoun,  75. 
Ay  liner's  Field,  419. 
Ay  twin,  90. 

Bacon,  190  s^. 

Bagehot,  W.,  90,  230,   304,  340. 

Bailey,  P.  J.,  75- 

Baillie,  Joanna,  62. 

Balaustion's  Adventure,  447-8. 

Ballad  poetry,  9,  29,    39,    41,    75, 

77,  3°2,  3»2>  336,  346,  407,  421. 

#^<?7?  <?  Wedding,  A,  29. 

Bangorian  Controversy,  The,  48. 
Barbour,  J.,  3. 

Bard,  The,  277-8. 

Barchester  Towers,  83. 

Barham,  R.  H  ,  61. 

luirnaby  Rudge,  438. 

Barons'  Wars,  The,  9. 

Barrow,  Sir  J.,  66. 

Isaac,  36. 

Barry  Cornwall  (Proctor),  61. 

Bartholomew  Fair,  18. 

Battle  of  Agincourt,  The,  9,  421. 

of  Brunanburh,  The,  2. 

of  the   Bidtic,    The,    372-3, 

421. 

of  the  Books,  The,  46. 

of  the     Summer    Islands, 

The,  30. 
Baxter,  36. 
Paynes,  T.  S.,  93. 
Beaconsfield,  Earl  of,  66,  80  seq. 
Beattie,  43. 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  12,19.07/. 
Beaux 's  Stratagem,  The,  33. 
Becket,  78,  420  seq. 
Beckford,  W.,  63. 
Beddoes,  T.  L.,  61. 
Beggat  \-'  ( )pet  a,  The,  39. 


Behn,  Mrs.  Aphra,  32  seq.,  49. 

Belle's  Stratagem,  The,  45. 

Bentham,  J.,  68. 

Bentley,  36,  46. 

Beowulf,  1. 

Berkeley,  G.,  48. 

Bible  in  Spain,  The,  8 1 . 

Biographia  Liter  aria,  318,  347. 

Blackie,  J.  S.  76. 

Blackstone,  54. 

Blackwood  s   Magazine,    66  seq., 

377,  396,  465. 
Blair,  R.,  40. 

H.,  53. 

Blake,  W  ,  58  seq.,  74,  350. 
Blank  Verse,  8. 
Bleak  House,  439,  441. 
Blessed  Damosel,  The,  7  3 . 
Blind  Beggar  of  Bethnal  Green, 

The,  21, 
Bloomfield,  R.,  60. 
Blot  in  the  Scutcheon,  A,  445. 
Bon  Gaul  tier  Ballads,  The,  75. 
Borough,  The,  57. 
Borrow,  G.,  8r. 

Boswell,  J.,  55,2695^.,  283,  409. 
Botanic  Garden,  The,  44. 
Boucirault.  D.,  78. 
Bowles,  W.  L.,  60. 
Boy  Actors,  118,  124  seq. 
Boyle,  R.,  37. 

C,  36,  37  (foot-notes). 

Boyle  Lectures,  The,  37. 
Bride  of  Abydos,  The,  381. 
Brimley,  G.,  90  seq.,  435. 
Brontes,  The,  66,  81  seq. 
Brook,  The,  393. 

Brooke,  S.,  42,    304,    324,    348-9. 

392-3- 
Brookes,  H.,  51. 

Brougham,  Lord,  66. 

Brown,  Dr  J.,  90. 

Browne,  Sir  T.,  363,  35  seq. 

Browning,  E.  B.,  72  seq.,  369,  416. 

R.,     31,    62,     71,    182, 

393.  398,  443  seq. 

Bruce,  M.,  43. 
Bruce,  The,  3. 


INDEX. 


487 


Brut,  The,  2. 

Bryce,  J.,  92. 

Buckingham,  Duke  of,  33,  244. 

Buckle,  H.  T.,  92  seq.,  296. 

B  uncle,  The  Life  of  John,  52. 

Bunyan,  J.,  36,  66,  238  seq. 

Burbage,  J.,  1 10. 

R.,  118,  124,  129. 

Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore,  60. 
Burke    E.,    54-5,    57,    269,    284, 

287  seq.,  371. 
Burnet,  G.,  37. 

T.,  37- 

Burney,     Fanny    (D'Arblay)    52 

seq.,  294-5. 
Burns,  R.,  4,  $9  seq.,  371. 
Burton,  R.,  25  seq.,  363. 
Bussy  D'Ambois,  19. 
Butler,  J.,  52. 

W.  A..  94. 

Byrom,  J.,  40. 

Byron,  Lord,  59,    304,    318,    321, 

346,   379  seq.,  388-9,    391,   413, 

443,  477- 

"Ciedmon,  1. 
Caleb  Williams,  62. 
Caliban  upon  Setebos,  182,  441. 
Call  to  the  Unconverted,  A,  36. 
Calverley,  76. 
Camden,  177. 

Campbell,  59,  371  seq.,  421. 
Canning,  44,  65. 
Canterbury  Tales,  The,  4. 
Carew,  T.,  29  seq.,  207. 
Caroline,  371. 
Carlyle,   T.,   92,    401    seq.,     416, 

435,  440,  457,  465^ 
Carlyle,  Life  of,  457. 

,   Re>ni?iiscences  of,  457. 

Cary,  H.,  61. 

Casabianca,  61. 

Castara,  29. 

Castas  'ay,  The,  304. 

Caste,  School,  etc.,  78. 

Castle  oj Indolence,  The,  41   seq., 

56. 
Castle  of  Otranto,  The,  51,  63. 


Castle  Rackrenl,  63. 

Catiline,  18. 

Cato,  254. 

Catriona,  482. 

Cecilia's  Day,  Song  for  St.,  246. 

Celebration  of  Charts,  A,  18. 

Cenci,  The,  390. 

Chalmers,  T.,  69. 

Chambers,  R.,  91. 

Channeling,  The,  20. 

Chapman,   18. 

Chapman's  Homer,  On,  395. 

Characteristics,  45. 

Cha/ge  of    the  Heavy   Brigade, 

The,  418,  425. 
Chatterton,  44. 
Chaucer,  2,  3  j^.,  5,  270. 
Chesterfield,  Earl  of,  53,  271. 
Chesterton,  G.  K.,  440,  450. 
Chettle,  116. 

Childe  Harold,  304,  380  seq. 
Choice,  The,  31. 
Christabel,  346-8,  330  seq. 
Christian  Doctrine,   A    Treatise 
on,  223. 

,  The  Dying,   to  his   Soul, 

260. 

Hero,  The,  47. 

Morals,  35. 

Year,  The,  95. 

Christianity,  Histories  of,  91. 
Christ's  Kirk  d  the  Green,  5. 
Christmas  Eve  and  Easter  Day, 

446. 
Church,  95. 
Churchill,  43  seq.,  300. 
Cibber,  33  seq ,  262,  275. 
Cider,  31. 

Circumcision,  Upon  the,  209. 
Citizen  of  the  World,  The,  282. 
City  of  Dreadful  Night,  The,  74. 
Clare  J.,  60. 
Clarke  Dr.  S.,  48. 
Claribel,  414,  423. 
Clarissa,  50. 
Classical  School  of  Poetry,  The, 

38,  44,  56,  seq.  315,  373. 
Clinker,  Humphrey,  51. 


488 


INDEX. 


Cloister  and  the  Hearth.  The,  83. 

Clough,  A.  H.,  72  seq.,  474. 

Cobbett,  W.  66. 

Coslebs  in  Search  of  a  Wife,  63. 

Calum  Britannicum,  207. 

Coleridge,  H.,  61  seq.,  67,  345-47. 

S.    T.,    175,    345    seq., 

313-4,    318,    322,    329,    353-4, 
360,  362,  376-7. 

Colin  Clout's  Come  Home  Again, 
100. 

Collier,  Jeremy,  34. 

Collins,  J.  C  ,  90. 

W.,  42  seq.,  284. 

Colman  G.  'the  Elder),  45  seq., 
282,  300. 

G.  (the  Younger),  62. 

Columbus  Birthday,  445. 

Comedy  of  Errors,  The,  117. 

Complaint  of  Mars,    The,  3. 

of  the    Duke   of  Bucking- 
ham, The,  8. 

unto  Pity,  The,  3. 

Complaints,  100. 

Complete  Angler,  The,  35  seq. ,201. 

Commentaries,  54. 

Comus.  206,  207  seq. 

Confederacy,  The,  33. 

Confessions  of  an  English  Opium 
Eater,  The,  376-7. 

Congreve,  W.,  23- 

Conquest  of  Granada,  The,  244. 

Constitutional  History   of  Eng- 
land, The,  68. 

Co?itcmfiorary    Review,    The,    89 
seq.,  92. 

Contention  of  Ajax  and  Ulysses, 
The,  22. 

Contrasted    Authors,       224-225, 
324-326,  435-436,  449-5°- 

Cooper,  T.  (Bishop),  24. 

T.  (Chartist),  76. 

Cooper's  Hill,  30. 

Coriolanus,    114,  17b  seq. 

Cor/ihill  Magazine,  The.  88,  seq., 

434- 
Cotton,  C,  35. 
Count  Julian,  369. 


Country  Parson,  The,  29. 

Wife,  The,  32. 

Coverdale,  6. 

Cowley,  A.,  31  seq.,  36,  196-7,  270. 

—Mrs.,  45. 

Cowper,  W.,  in,  300,  seq.  357. 

Crabbe,  G.  57  seq.,  357. 

Cr an  ford,  83. 

Cranmer,  6. 

Crashaw,  R  ,  27  seq.,  75. 

Critic,  The,  45,  62. 

CromwelPs  Letters  and  Speeches, 

402. 
Crossing  the  Bar,  421,  448. 
Cuckoo,  To  the,  63. 
Culture  and  Anarchy,  475. 
Cumberland,  R.  45. 
Curiosities  of  Literature,  66. 
Curse  of  Kehema,  The,  353. 
Cymbeline,  178-180. 
Cynewulf,  r. 
Cynthia's  Revels,  x8. 

Daffodils,    The,  316. 

Daisy,  The,  424. 

Dale,  R.  W.,  97. 

Danwnis  Epitaphium,  23,  212. 

Dance  of  the  Seven  Deadly  Sins. 

The,  5. 
Daniel,  S.  9. 
Daniel  Deronda,  466-7. 
Dante  (Cary's),  61. 
Darwin,  C,  44,  71  seq.,  91. 
Davenant,  Sir  W.,  26,  31-2  seq. 
David  and  Bcthsnbc.  14. 
David  Cofperfield,  437,  439,  441. 

Garrick,  78. 

Simple,  50. 

Davideis,  3 1 . 
Day,  J,  21. 

T.,63. 

De  Profundi's,  421. 
— A  ug  mentis,  195. 
Death    of    the    Lord     Protector, 

on  The,  2\z. 
Death's  Test  Book,  61. 
Decline  and  Fall  of  the    Roman 

Empire,  The,  55. 


INDEX. 


489 


Defence  of  Lucknow,  The,  421. 

oj  Poesy,  A.,  23. 

of  Rhyme,  A.,  9. 

Defensio pro   Popido  Anglicano, 

etc.,  219  seq.,  221 
Defoe,  D.,  49  seq.,  291. 
Dekker,  T.  19. 
Denham,  Sir  J  ,  30. 
Descent  of  Man,  The,  7 1 . 
Deserted  Village,  The,  281-2, 

284-5- 
Devil's  Law  Case,  The,  20. 
Diana  of  the  Crossways,  84. 
Dickens,  C,    80,    358,    416,    435, 

437    seq.,  444,  465,467. 
Dictionary  (Johnson's),  268-9. 
Diodati,  202,  212-3. 
Dion,  314. 
Disciples,  The,  77. 
Discovery  of  Witchcraft,  The,  20. 
Dispensary,  The,  39. 
Disraeli,  66. 
,  (Lord    Beaconsfield),  66, 

80  seq . 
Divine  and  Moral  Emblems,  29. 
Dobell,  B.,  75. 

S.  75- 

Dr.JekyllandMr.  Hyde,  482. 
lh :  trine      and     Discipline      of 

Divorce,  The,  215. 
Dell's  House,  A.,  79. 
Dombey  and  Son,  437,  439. 
Don  Juan,  33,  382  seq. 

Sebastian,  245. 

Donne,  J.,  27  seq.,  120. 

Dora,  330,  416. 

Dorset,  Lord,  31. 

Double  Dealer,  The,  33. 

Douglas,  Gavin,  5. 

Douglas,  44. 

Dowden  Prof.,  90  seq.,    115,  143, 

429. 
Drama,  T7ie,    J,  9-22,  32-4,  44-5, 

62,  77-9-  134,  243-4,  282-3, 

420,  449-50- 
Drapier  Letters,  The,  46. 
Drayton,  M.,  9  seq.,  421. 
Dream  Children,  365. 


Dream  of  Fair  Women,  The, 

415,  424. 
Drummond,  H,  96. 

W.  9  seq.,  1 20. 

Dryden,  J.,  30,  130,  242  seq.,  271, 

278,  315. 
Du  Bartas's  Divine    Weekes  and 

Workes,  201. 
Duchess  of  Mai  ft,  The,  20. 

The  Book  of  the,  3. 

Duke  0/  Milan,  The,  21. 

Dunbar,  5. 

Dunciad,  The,  261. 

Dyer,  J.,  40. 

Dying  Swan,  The,  414,  423. 

i^arthly  Paradise,   The,  73-4. 
Eastward  Ho,   19. 
Ecce  Homo,  96. 
Ecclesiastical  Polity,  23. 
Edgeworth,  Maria,  63. 
Edinburgh  Review,  The,  65  seq., 

379.  401,  405,  407- 
Edward  II,  15. 
Egoist,  The.  84. 
Eikon  Basilike,  218. 
Eikonoklastes,  218  seq.,  221. 
Eirenicon,  95. 
Elaine,  418-9,  428. 
Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard, 

'275-7. 
Elizabethan  Poetry,  7-9. 

Prose,  22-25. 

Drama,  The,  7,  9  seq.,  1 34. 

Theatre,  The,  12. 

Elliot,  E.,  61. 

Emma,  358. 

Empedocles  on  Etna,  474. 
Empress  of  Morocco,  The,  32. 
Enchiridion.  29 
Endymion,  396,  399. 
England's  Heroical  Epistles,  9. 
English    Bards   and  Scotch  Re- 
viewers, 318,  379. 

Humourists,  433-4. 

Enoch  Arde?i,  419,  426  seq. 
Enquiry    into     Vulgar   Errors, 

An,  35. 


400 


INDEX. 


Epic  of  Hades,  The,  77. 
Epistle  to  Augusta,  An,  381. 

to  the  Lord  Chancellor,2<\2. 

Epipsychidion,  390. 
Epithalamion,  100. 

Epsom  Wells,  32. 
Esmond,  433. 
Essay    on  Criticism,  259. 
on  Dramatic  Poetry,  243. 

on  Epic  Poetry,    245. 

on  Man,  262. 

Essays  (Bacon's),  193-4. 

(Help's)  454. 

(Macaulay's),  408. 

in  Criticism,  475-76. 

Moral,  262-3 

of  Elia,  65,  361-63,  68  sea, 

and  Reviews,  96. 

Essex  and  Spenser,  101. 
Etheredge,  Sir  G.,  32. 
Euphuism,  15  seq.,  23,  27,  169. 
Europe  during  the  Middle  A  %es, 

68. 
Eve  of  St.  fohn,  The,  334-5. 
Evelina,  52. 
Evelyn,  J.,  36. 
Evening,  Ode  to,  42. 

Star,  70  the,  371,  373. 

Every  Man  in  His  Humour,  1 8, 

181-2. 
Evidences  of  Christianity,  68. 
Examiner,    The,  67  j^.,  90,  395, 

444- 
Excursion,    The,  312-3,  323,  327, 

329  seq. 
Eyre,  Jane,  81-2. 


tables  (Dryden),  246. 

(Gay),  39. 

Eaery   Queen,  The,  99,  101,     103 

seq.,  y-,3,  395- 
Fair   Infant,    On  the  Death  of  a, 
202. 

Penitent,   The,  21,44. 

Faithful  Shepherdess,  The,  20. 
Falconer,  W.,  4^ 

/■'tills  of  Princes,  The,  5. 


False  One,  The,  20. 
Farmer's  Boy,  The,  60. 
Farquhar,  G.,  33. 
Fatal  Dowry,  The,  2 1 . 

Marriage,  The,  42. 

Faustus,  Dr.,  15. 

Felix  Holt,  463,  464. 
Fergusson,  44. 
Ferishtah's  Fancies,  448. 
Ferrex  and  Porrex,  13. 
Ferrier,  J.F.,  93. 

Susan,  65. 

Fes t us,  75. 

Fidele,  Dirge  for,  42. 
Fielding,  H.,  50,  309,  357. 

Sarah,  50. 
Fifine  at  the  Fair,  447. 
Fitzgerald,  E.,  61. 
Fleece,  The,  40. 
Florio,  1 16,  161,  178. 
Folios,  Shakespeare,  131. 
Fool  of  Quality.  The,  5  r . 
Foote,  S.,  45. 
Forman,  H.,  90. 
Forster,  J.,  92  seq,  444,  465. 
Fortescue,  5. 

Fortnightly  Review,  The,  89. 
Irour  Georges,  The,  434. 
Fox,  C,  36. 
Francis,  Sir  P.,  55. 
Frankenstein,  81. 
Eraser's    Magazine,  88  seq.,  402, 

432-3,  471- 
Freeman,  E.  A.,  92  seq.,  458. 
Freeholder,  The,  254. 
French  Revolution,  Effects  of  the, 
56-7,  310,  317-8,  326,  328,  331, 
366. 

The,  402-3. 

Frere,  J,  6,  65. 

Friar  Bacon  and  Friar  Bungay, 

'4- 
Friends  in  Council,  454. 
Froude,  J.  A.,  457  seq. ,  465. 
Fuller,  T,  25. 

(yammer  Gurlon's  Needle,   13. 
Garden  of  Cyrus,  The,  35. 


INDEX. 


491 


Garnett,  R.,  90. 

Garrick,  D.,  45  seq.,  268,  282-3. 

Garth,  Sir  S.,  39. 

Gascoigne,  G  ,  8. 

Gaskell,  Mrs.,  83. 

Gay,  J.,  y)seq.,  261. 

Gebir,  366. 

Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  2. 

Geology,   The  Principles  of,    70. 

George  Eliot  (M.  A.  Evans),  80, 

463  seq.,  478. 
Giaour,  The,  381. 
Gibbon,  E.,   54. 
Gifford,  W.  65-6. 
Girdle,  On  A,  30. 
Globe  Theatre,  The,  12^  seq.,  157. 
Glover,  R.,  41. 
Go,  lovely  rose,  30. 
Godwin,  62  seq  ,  387-8. 
Goethe,  130  1,  401. 
Golden  Age,  The,  21. 
Goldsmith,  43,  54,  270,  281,  seq. 
Gondibert,  31. 

Good-natured  Man,  The,  282. 
G  or  bo  due,  8,  13. 
Gore,  C.  96. 
Gosse,  263-4,  271. 
Gospel  Truths  Opened,  Some,  238. 
Gower,  J.,  5. 
Grace  Abounding,  2 38. 
Grandison,  Sir  Charles,  50. 
Grave,  The,  40. 
Gray,    T.,    31,  40,   247,  270,  284, 

305,  274  seq.,  476. 
Great  Expectations,  439. 
Greatest  Birth  of  Time,  The,  192. 
Green,  J.,  92. 
Greene,  R.,  14,  24,  123. 
Groat's  Worth  of  Wit,  A,  24, 

1 1 6  seq. 
Grongar  Hill,  40. 
Grote,  G.,  68. 
Guardian,  The,  253,  255. 
Guilt  and  Sorrow,  311. 
Gull's  Horn-book,  The,  24. 
Gulliver's  Travels,  47,  309. 

xlabington,  W.,  29. 


Halfpenny  Papers,  89. 

Hall,  R.  69. 

Hallam,  A.  H.,  76.^.,  413-5,  417. 
H.,  68  seq.,  102. 

Hamilton,  Sir  W.,  93. 

Hamlet,  13,  115,  116  seq.,  340. 

Happy  Warrior,  The,  321. 

Hardy,  T.,  84. 

Harold,  420. 

Harrington,  J.,  34. 

Harris,  F.,  135. 

Hartley,  13.,  53. 

Hart-leap  Well,  322-3,  448. 

Harvey,  G.,  98  seq.,  102,  14,  141. 

Haunch  of  Venison,  The,  283. 

Hazlitt,  W.,  68  seq.,  263,  377. 

Heart   of  Midlothian,    The,  338, 
34  T  seq. 

Heber,  R.,  61. 

Hellas,  391. 

Helps,  A..,  452,  456. 

Hemans,  Mrs.,  61. 

Henry  I V,  Pis  1  and  2,  151-3 

Henry  V,  153-5. 

Henry  VI,  Pt.  1,  115. 

Pis  2  and  j,  120 

Henry  VIII,  129. 

Henryson,  R.,  5. 

Herbert,  G.,  28,  29  seq., 

He?  ezuard  the  Wake,  46 1 . 

Hero  and  Leander,  16,  19. 

Heroes  and  Hero  Worship,  402-3. 
The,  461. 

Heroic  Couplet,  The,  4,  30. 

Heroines,  Shakespeare's,  117, 
125-6  ;  Desdemona,  127  ; 
Cleopatra,  128  ;  Hermione, 
128  ;  Queen  Katharine,  129  ; 
Portia,  148-9  :  Beatrice,  157  ; 
Rosalind,  117-119;  Olivia, 
and  Viola,  161  ;  Portia, 
(Brutus's  Wife)  165  ;  Ophelia, 
169  ;  Cordelia,  172  ;  Lady 
Macbeth,  175  ;  Volumnia. 
177  ;  Imogen,  179. 

Herrick,  29. 

Hesperides,  29. 

Hey  wood,  J.,  11. 


492 


INDEX. 


Heywocd,  T.  20. 

Hieronynw,  1  5. 

Higher    Pantheism,    The      327, 

420.  423. 
Highland  Girl,  To  a,  314. 
Hi7id  and  the  Panther,  The,  249, 

seq.,  246. 
Hilhad,  The,  43. 
Hinton,  J.,  94-5,  324. 
History  of  the  World,  25. 

British  India,  68. 

Civ  iliza  lion,  9  2 . 

Crimean  War,  92. 

Frderick  the  Great,  402. 

England(Macnulay's) ,  407-8. 

(Fr-jude's),  457. 

Europe,  91. 

the  Great  Rebellion,  35. 

My  07vn  Times,  37. 

Scotland,  54,  91 

the  Peninsular  War,  68. 

Great  Britain,  53. 

Hobbes,  T.,  34. 

Hogg,  J.,  60  Seq.,  6.7. 

Hohenlinden,  371,  373. 

Holy  and  Profane  State,  The,  25. 

Holy  Grail,   The,  414,    419,  423, 

429. 
Living  and  Dying,    35  seq., 

397- 

War,    The,  240-1,    243   seq. 

Home,  J.  44. 

Homer  (Chapman's),  19,  395. 

(Worsley's),  106. 

(Pope's),  260  seq.,  270,  353. 

■ (Cowper's),  303. 

Hood,  T.,  72. 
Hooker,  R.,  23. 
Horce  Paulina,  69. 
Home,  K.H.,  61. 
//osier's  Ghost,  Admiral,  41. 
Houghton,  Lord  <..Milnes),  76. 
Hound  of  Heaven,  The,  75. 
Hours  of  Idleness,  379. 
House  of  Fame,  The,  3. 
Household  Words,  88,  439  seq. 
Hudibras,  3 1 . 
Hume,  D.,  52,  53  seq. 


Humorous  Lieutenant,  The,  20. 
Hunchback,  The,  62. 
Hundred  Good  Points  of  Hus- 
bandry, Five,  9. 
Hunt,  L.,  67   seq.,  391,    395,  397^ 

444- 
Hutcheson  F.,  52. 
Hutton,  R.  H.,  88. 
Huxley,  T.  H  ,  91. 
Hyde  E.  (Lord  Clarendon),  35. 
Hydriotaphia,  or  Urn  Burial,  35. 
Hymns   of  Heavenly   Love  and 

Beauty,  101. 
Hymen's  Triumph,  9. 
Hypatia,  460-1. 
Hyperion,  396-7,  399. 

Ibsen,  79. 

Idylls  of  the  King,  418-9,  428  seq. 
Iliad,  The,   106,  260. 
77  Penseroso,  204. 
/mag/nary   Conversations,  367-8. 
Imitatio?is  of  Horace,  262. 
In    Memoriam,    411-17,423,427 

seq. 
fndicafor,  The,  67. 
Indian  Emperor,  The,  244. 

Queeti,  The,  243 

Induction,  The,  8. 
Inductive  Method  The,  195. 

Sciences,  The,  94. 

Ingoldsby  Legends,  The,  61. 

Instauratio  Magna,  193,  195. 

Interludes,  1 1 . 

Ion,  62  seq.,  444. 

Ire?ie,  26S. 

Isabella,  396-7. 

Italy,     Italian     influence,    2,    3, 

210- r 1. 
Ivanhoe,  338,  342  seq. 

<J acuta  Prudentum,  29. 
James  I  (Scot.),  5. 

G.  P.  R.,  65. 

Jameson,  Mrs.,  128,  172. 
fane  Shore,  44. 

Jeffrey,  F.,  65  seq.,  396. 

Jeffries,  J.  R.,  90. 


INDEX. 


493 


Jew  of  Malta,  The,  15. 

Joan  of  Arc,  354. 

John  Ball,  The  History  of,  47. 

Johnson,   S.,  53-4,  247,  267  seq., 

282,  291-2,  357. 
Johnson,  The  Life  of  Dr.,  55,  269. 
Johnstone,  C,  51. 
Jocasta,  8. 
Jocoseria,  448. 
Jones,  H.  A.,  79. 
Jones,  Tom,  50. 

Jonson,  Ben,  iSseq.,  32, 124,  181-?. 
Jowett,  B.,  96. 
Julian     and     Maddalo,    391-92 

ifootnote). 
Julius  Caesar,   162-6. 
Junius,  The  Letters  of,  55. 

Keats,  J.,  59,  395  seq., 443,  476. 
Keble,  J.,  95  seq.,  315. 
Kidnapped,  482. 
King  and  No  King,  A,  20. 

John,  120,  146  .y*y. 

-Lear,  33,  1 70  seq. 


King,  Mrs.  H  ,  77. 

Kingsley,  C,  84,  460  seq. 

Kinglake,  A.,  92  seq.,  458. 

Kings  Quair,  The,  5. 

Kipling,  R.,  77- 

Kit-Cat  Club,  The,  48. 

Knight  of  the   Burning  Pestle, 

The,  12. 
Knight's  Tale,  The,   128. 
Kubla  Khan,  347,  376. 
Kyd,  T.,  15. 

La  Belle  Dame  sans  Merci,  398. 
Lady  of  Pleasure,  A.,  22. 

of  Lyons,  The,  78. 

of  Shalott,  The,  4 15,  428. 

of  the  Lake,  The,  336,  341. 

Lalla  Rookh,  60. 

H  Allegro,  204. 

Za&?  Poets,  The,  59. 

Lamb,  C,  20,  28,  35,  62,  97,  161-2, 

233>  36o  seq.,  305,  345,  377. 
Lamia,  396. 
Lampson,  E.  L.,  76. 


Landon,  Letitia  (L.  E.  L.)  61. 
Landor,  W.  S  ,  444,  450. 
Lang,  A.,  87,  90  seq.,  340. 
Langland,  3. 
Luzodamia,  314,  329  seq. 
Law,  W.,  49. 
Lawes,  H.,  206-209. 
Lay   of  the   Last  Minstrel,  The, 

335-6,  34r. 
JLays  of  Ancient  Pome,  407. 

of  the  Scottish  Cavaliers,  75. 

Layamon,  2  seq.,  71. 
Lear,  E.,  76. 
Lee,  N.  32. 

S.,  180,  182. 

Legend  of  Good  Women,  The,  4. 

Jubal,   The,  466. 

Leicester,  Earl  of,  12,  114. 
Leonidas,  41. 

Letter  to  a  Noble  Lord,  A.,  205. 
to   the  Sheriffs   of  Bristol, 

A.,  291. 
Letters  (Chesterfield),  53. 

(Cowper),  301,  305. 

of  Junius,  55  seq.,  289. 

of  Peter  P/ymley,  66. 

on  a  Regicide  Peace,  295. 

Leviathan,  The,  34. 

Lewes,  G.,  H.,  94  seq.,  465,  466. 

Lewis,  M.  G.,  63,  335. 

Liberty,  of  Prophesying-  The,  35. 

On,  93. 

Liddon,  H.  P.,  96. 
Life  and  Death  of  Mr.   Badman, 
The,  239. 

of  Nelson,  The,  354-5. 

Lindsay,  Sir  D.,  11. 
Literary  Club,  The,  269,  291. 
Literature  and  Dogma,  475. 

of  Europe,   The,  68. 

Little  Dorrit,  437,  439. 
Lives  of  Donne,  etc.,  35. 

of  the  Poets,  270. 

Locke,  J.,  36. 
Lockhart,  J.  G.,  66. 
L^ocksley  Hall,  416,  422. 
Lodge,  T.,  14. 
Logan,  J.,  43. 


494 


INDEX 


Logic,  A  system  of,   93. 

The  Elements  of,  94. 

London  Journal,  The,  67 
Magazine,  The,  67  seq., 

361,  377- 
Looking    Glass  jor  London,  The, 

14. 
Lord  of  the  Isles  The,  336. 
Loss  of  the  Royal  George,  On  the, 

302,  373- 
Lost  Leader,  The,  445. 
Lotos-Eaters,  The,  415. 
Love  in  a  Wood,  32. 

Jor  Love,  33. 

Triumphant,  245. 

Love ' s  Labour's  Lost,  1 15. 
Loves  of  the  Plants,   The,  44. 

of  the   Triangles,  The,  44. 

Lovelace,  29. 

Lover  s  Confession,  The,  5. 

Lowell,  247-8. 

Lucas ta,   To,  29. 

Lucretius,  420. 

Lucy,  Sir  T.,  1 13-1 J  S. 

Lucy  (5  poems),  320,  323. 

Gray,  312. 

Luria,  446. 

Lux  Mundi,  96. 

Lycidas,   23,    102,   209  set/.,  270, 

39°- 
Lyell,  Sir  C.  70. 
Lydgate,  5. 
Lyly,  J.,  14^7.,  23. 
Lyrical  Hal  lads,  312,  318,  346. 
Lytton,  Lord  (Owen  Meredith)  76. 
Bulwer,  78,  80. 

Macaulay,  T.  B.,  33-4, 92,  239-40, 
247,  283,  287,  355,  405  j^.,458. 
Macbeth,  20,  125,  172  seq.,  394. 
Mac  Flccknoe,  245. 
Macarthy,  J.,  92. 
Mackenzie,  52. 

Mackintosh,  Sir  J.,  68  seq.,  396. 
Macmillaris  Magazine,  88. 
Macpherson,  J.,  44. 
Maginn,  W.,  67,  88. 
Magnificence,  1 1 . 


Mahon,  Lord,  92. 

Mahoney,  F.S.,  (Father  Prout),  88. 

Maid's  Tragedy  The,  20,  30. 

Malory,  Sir  T.,  6  seq.,  429. 

Makhus,  T.  R.,  68. 

Man  and    His   Dwelling   Place, 

94,  324- 

of  Feeling  The,  52. 

Man's  Place  in  the  Universe,  94, 
Mansfield  Park,  358. 
Mandeville,  Sir  J.,  3. 

B.  de,  47. 

Manfred.  381,  383. 

Mansel    H.  L.,  93. 

Map,  W.  de,  2. 

Marchioness      of       Winchester, 

Efiitafh  on  the,  203. 
Marius  the  Epicurean,  90. 
Marlowe,  C,  15. 
Marmion,  334,  336,  340-1. 
Many.it,  F.  65. 
Mai  stem,  J .,  19. 
Martin  Chuzzlewit,  439. 

Mar  pre  late  controversy,  24. 

Martin,  Sir  T.,  75. 
Martineau,  Harriet,  92. 
Marvell,  A.,  31  seq.,  224,  363,  476. 
Mary  Barton,  83. 
Masks  and  Faces,  78. 
Masque,  The,  18,  140,  205  seq. 
Massinger,  P.,  21  seq.,  44. 
Master  of  Rallantroz,  The,  482. 
Maturin,  C.  R.,  63 
Maud,  412,  416,  418,  425  seq. 
Maurice,  F.  D.,  96  seq.,  4x7,  460. 
Mayor  of  Queenborough,  The,  20. 
Mozeppa,  382. 
Mazzini,  403,  465. 
Measure  for  Measure,  125. 
Medal,  The,  245. 
Mehnoth,  63. 

Merchant  of  Venice,  The,  148-150. 
Meredith,  G  ,  84. 

Owen  (Lord  Lytton),  76. 

Merivale,  C,  92. 

Merope,  475. 

Merry  Wives  of   Windsor,   The, 

113,  123  s  e 


INDEX. 


495 


Messiah,  The,  260,  267. 
Metaphysical  School,  The,  27. 
Michael,  330. 
Mickle,  W.,  43. 
Middlemarch,  463,  466. 
Middleton,  C,  52. 
Midshipman  Easy,  65. 
Midsummer  Nights   Dream,   A, 

120,  140  seq.,  205. 
Mill  on  the  Floss,  The,  463,  465. 
Mill,  J.,  68. 

J.  S.,  68,  92  seq. 

Miller,  H.,  91. 

Milman,  H.  H.,  91. 

Milnes,  R.  M.,  76. 

Milton,  2,  130,  201  seq.,  270,  268, 

287,  303,  3io,  315-6,  3<9, 
331,  366,  423,  429,  476,  478. 

Milton,  Life  of,  202,  270. 

Minstrel,  The,  43. 

Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border, 
The,  336. 

Minto,  W.,  90. 

Miracle  Plays,  9  seq.,  no. 

Miracles,  Notes  on  the,  94. 

The  Natural  History  of,  53. 

Mirror  for  Magistrates,  The,  8. 

Mr.  Sludge,  "the  Medium?  447-8. 

Mistress,  The,  31. 

Mitford,  Mary  R.,  65. 

W.,  68. 

Mithridates,  32. 

Modern  Painters,  470-1. 

Money,  78. 

Monk,  The,  63. 

Montgomery^  J.,  60-1. 

R.,  61. 

Moore,  Dr.  J.,  62. 

T.,  59  seq.,  296. 

Moral  Fables,  5. 

Morality,  476. 

Plays,  11  j^.,  174. 

More,  Hannah,  63,  277. 

Sir  T.,  6. 

Morley  H.,  88,  192-3,  231. 

Lord,  293. 

Morris,  W.,  73  seq.,  87,  398. 

Sir  L.,  77- 


Morte  if  Arthur,  6,74,  416,    419 

(footnote),  477,  429. 
Mother  Hubbard's  Tale,  100 
Mourning  Bride,  The,  33. 
Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  155-7- 
Muiopotmos,  100. 
Murder  as  one  of  the  Fine  Arts, 

377- 
Mystery  of  Pain,  The,  95. 

Mysteries,  9  seq.,  1 10. 

of  Udolpho,  The,  63. 

Nabob  of  Arcots  Debts,  On  the, 

294. 
Napier,  Sir  W.,  68. 
Nash  T.,  14  seq.,  98,  141,  283. 
Natural   History    of     Religion, 

The,  53. 

Theology,  68. 

Needy  Knife-grinder,  The,  65. 
New  Arabian  Nights,  The,  482. 

Inn,  The,  32. 

Way  to  pay  Old  Debts,  A, 

21. 
New  comes,  The,  434. 
Newman,  J.,  95  seq.,  457,  461. 
Newton,  Sir  J.,  23,  48. 
Nicholas  Nickleby,  438,  441. 
Night  Thoughts,  40. 
Nile,  The,  67. 
Nineteenth  Century  (and  After), 

The,  89. 
Noble  Numbers,  29. 
Nodes  Ambrosiancr,  60-67. 
Nocturnal  Reverie,  A,  39. 
Nonsense  Verses,  76. 
North,  Christopher  (Wilson),  67. 
Northanger  Abbey,  357-8. 
Norton,  13. 

Not  Impossible  She,  The,  28. 
Novel,  the  Word,  64. 
Literature,  49-52,  62-65,  70, 

80-88,282,337-8,  341-2,357-8, 

433-5-  438-41,  454,  460-2,  465- 

67,  482. 
Novum  Organum,  195. 
Nutting,  322. 
mphidia,  9. 


496 


INDEX. 


Observations  on  the  Nation,  292. 

Occleve,  5. 

Oceana  (Froude's),  457-8. 

■ (Harrington's),  34. 

Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn,  397-8. 

on   the   Death   of    Welling- 
ton, 417. 

on   the   Morning  of  Chris fs 

Nativity,  202. 

on  the  Passion,  203. 

to  Cromwell,  31. 

to  Duty,  317. 

to  a  Nightingale,  397. 

to  the  Passions,  42. 

to  Spring,  275. 

to  the  West  Wind,  390. 

to  Winter,  372. 

Eton  College,  275,  277. 

Immortality,  322,  329  seq. 

Odyssey  (Pope's),  261. 

CEnone,  415,  424. 

O'Keefe,  J  ,  62. 

Old  age,  30. 

Bachelor,  The,  33. 

Curiosity  Shop,  The,  438. 

Familiar  Faces,  363. 

Mortality,  338,  342  seq. 

Oldys,  W.,  52. 

Oliver  Twist,  438,  441. 

Origin  of  Species,  The,  7 1 . 

Orion,  6 1 . 

Ormulum,  2. 

Oroonoko,  32. 

Orphan,  The,  32. 

O'Shaughnessy,  A.,  74. 

Ossian,  44 

Othello,  127. 

Otway,  T.,  32. 

Our  Mutual  Friend,  439. 
■  Village,  65. 


Oxford  Movement,    The, 
seq.,  457. 


72, 


95 


P's,  The  Four,  11. 

Palace  of  Art,   The,  415,  424. 

of  Pleasure,  The  3,  118. 

Paley,  W.,  68. 
Pamela,  50. 


Paltock,  R.,  49. 

Pandosto,  24 

Panegyric  on  the  Coronation,  A, 

242. 
Paracelsus,  444. 

Paradise  Lost,    219,   222-3,    226, 
229-32  seq. ,2,06,  316,  427,  429. 
—Regained,  223,229-30,  231-3^^. 
Parish  Register,  The,  57. 
Parliament  of  Bees,  The,  2  \ . 

of  Fowls,  The,  3. 

Parnell,  T,  39  seq  ,  283. 
Parson's  Tale,  The,  4. 
/Vzj-/  <j:»rf  Present,  402. 
Pas  ton  Letters,  The  5. 
Passionate  Shepherd,  The,  16. 
Pastorals  (Pope's),  259. 

(Philips's),  39. 

Pater,  W.  H.,  90  seq.,  329. 

Patmore,  C,  76. 

Patriot  King,  Idea  of  a,  45. 

Pattison,  M.,  95  seq.,  261. 

Pauline,  444. 

Paynter,  W.,  3. 

Peacock,  T.  L.,  81. 

Pearson,  J.,  36. 

Pecock,  5. 

Peebles  to  the  Play,  5. 

Peele,  C,  14. 

Pendennis,  432-3. 

Pepys,  S.,  37. 

Percy,  T.,  43. 

Peregrine  Pickle,  5 1 . 

Pericles,  13,  128. 

and  Aspasia,  368. 

Persuasion,  358. 
Peter  Bell,  309,  323. 

J  he  Third,  390,  392. 

Grimes,  58. 

Wilkins,  49. 


Phalaris  controversy,  The  36,  46. 

Philarete,  28. 

Philaster,  20. 

Philip  van  Artevelde,  71. 

Philips,  A.,  39,  255. 

T.,31. 

,  S.,  79. 

Pickwick     Papers,      The,      432. 
437-8,  44i. 


INDEX. 


497 


Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin,  The,  446. 
Piers  the  Plowman,   The    Vision 

of,  3- 

Pilgrim's  Progress,  The,  240-1. 

Pindaric  Odes,  31,  46,  277. 

Pinero,  Sir  A.  W.,  79. 

Pippa  Passes,  445. 

Plague  Year,  The,  49. 

Plain  Dealer,  The,  32.  • 

Planche,  J.  R.,  78.  ' 

Pleasures  of  Hope,  371,  373- 

of  Memory,  59. 

of  the  Imagination,  42. 

Plurality  of  Worlds,  94. 

Poet  Laureateship,  244,  262,  275, 

315,  337,  354,  417- 
Poet's  Epitaph,  The,  317,  326. 
Poetry,  History  of  English,  43. 
Political    Economy,      (Ricardo), 

68. 

(Mill),  93- 

Polly,  39- 

Polyolbion,  9. 

Pomfret,  J.,  31. 

Pope,  A.,  38-9,  226,  247,  259  seq., 

270-1,  278,  304,  315,   373. 
Population,  Principles  of,  68. 
Praed,  M.,  71. 
Prelude,    The,    304,    309,    312-3, 

323,  329,  33'- 
Pre-Raphaelites,     The,    72    seq., 

470. 

Pride  and  Prejudice,  358. 

Primrose  of  the  Rock,  The,  314, 
322. 

Princess,  The,  417,  422,  424  seq., 
428. 

Principia,  23. 

Prior,  M  ,  39. 

Prisoner  of '  Chillon,  The,  381. 

Proctor,  A.  A.,  76. 

B.  W.,  (Barry  Corn- 
wall,) 6i. 

Progress  of  Poesy,  The,  275. 

Prometheus  Unbound,  389-90,  392. 

Promos  and  Cassandra,  126. 

Prospice,  447,  449- 

Prothalamion,  101. 

32 


Proud  Maisie,  340. 
Prout  Father  (Mahoney),  88. 
Proverbial  Philosophy,  76. 
Purgatory  of  Suicides,  The,  76. 
Pusey,  E.  B.,  95. 

Cluo  Cursum  Ventus,  72. 

Quarles,  E.,  29. 

Quarterly  Review,    The,  66   seq., 

354,  377,  396. 
Quartos,  Shakespeare,  131. 
Queen  Mab,  387,  392. 

Mary,  420. 

Quincey,  De,  67,  263,    313,    346, 

366,  376  seq. 

Rab  and  his  Friends,  90. 
Radcliff,  Anne,  63. 
Raleigh,  Sir  W.,  25. 

— ,  Prof.,  56,  348. 

Ralph  Roister  Doister,  13. 
Rambler  and  The  Idler,  The,  268. 
Ramsay,  A.,  40. 
Rape  of '  Lucre  ce,  The,  116. 

-of  the  Lock,  The,  260,  263  seq. 

Rasselas,  268. 

Realmah,  454. 

Reade,  C,  78,  83. 

Receipt  of  my  Mother's   Picture, 

On  the,  1 1 1  (footnote),  300. 
Recessional,  The,  77. 
Recruiti?ig  Officer,  The,  33. 
Red    Cotton    Nightcap    country, 

448. 
Redgauntlet,  335,  338. 
Reflections  on  the   Revolution   in 

France,  294,  296  seq. 
Rehearsal,  The,  33,  45,  244,  seq., 

461. 
Rejected  Addresses,  61. 
Reid,  T.,  53. 
Reli^to  Lata,  245. 

Medici,  35. 

Reliques  of  English  Poetry,  43. 
Representative  Government,  On, 

93- 
Resolutiofi  and  Independence,  44 
(footnote),  320. 


498 


INDEX. 


Restoration  Dramatists,  32-34. 
Retaliation,  283. 
Retreat,  The,  29. 
Revenge,  The,  421,  423. 
Revenger's  Tragedy,  The,  21. 
Reverie  of  Poor  Susan,  The,  311. 
Revolt  of  Islam,  The,  389,  392. 
Reynolds,   Sir    J.,    54   seq.,    269, 

284. 
Ricardo,  68. 
Rival  Queens,  The,  32. 
Rivals,  The,  45. 
Rivers,  Earl,  5. 
Richardson,  S.,  50  seq.,  357. 
Richard  II,  16,  120,  143^^.  124. 

///,  33,  120,  138  seq. 

Ring  and  the  Book,  The,  447,  450. 
Rival  Ladies,  The,  243. 
Rob  Roy's  Grave,  314,  322. 
Robert  Elsmere,  83. 
Robertson,  T.  W.,  78. 

W.,  54. 

Robinson  Crusoe,  49,  395. 
Rochester,  Earl  of,  31. 
Roderick  Random,  51. 
,  the  last   of  the   Goths, 

354,  3°7. 
Rogers,  S.,  59  seq.,  354,  416. 
Rokeby,  337. 
Roman  Actor,  The,  21. 
Romance,  The,  64. 
Roman  de  la  Rose,  3. 
Romantic  School  of  Poetry,   The, 

44,  t>bseq.,  59,  63,  315,  340. 
Rome,  History  of,  92. 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  1 1 7-8. 
Romola,  83,  465,  467,  478. 
Rosalynde,  14,  158. 
Rosciad,  The,  43. 
Roscoe  W.,  68. 
Rose  Aylmer,  369. 

and  the  Ring,  The,  434. 

Rossetti,  Christina  G.,  74. 

G.,  73  seg.t  398. 

Roundabout  Papers,  The,  434. 
Rowe,  N.,  44. 
Rowley  Poems,  The,  44. 
Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam,  6  J . 


Rugby  Chapel,  47 S. 

Ruins  of  Time,  The.  100. 

Rule  a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife,  20. 

Britannia,  41. 

Ruskin,  228,  45S,  470  seq. 

Samson  Agonistes,  222,  233  seq., 

316. 
Sackville,  T.,  8 
Sad  Shepherd,  The,  1 8. 
St.  Agnes'  Eve,  397. 
St.  John,   H.,   (Bolingbroke),   45 

seq.,  283,  287,  291. 
Saintsbury,  Prof.,  16,  21,  72,  106, 

197-8,    369,    398,    408,    423-4, 

426,  435,  458,  461,  476. 
Saints'  Everlasting  Rest,  The,  36. 
Sanday,  Prof.,  W.  97. 
Sand  ford  and  Me?  ton,  63. 
Sartor  Resartus,  65,  402-3. 
Satanic  School,  356,  383. 
Satire,  Essay  on,  244-5. 
Satires  and  Epistles,  263. 
Satires  of  Juvenal  245. 
Saturday  Review,  The,  88. 
Savage,  R.,  268. 
Scala  Intellectus,  196. 
Scenes  of  Clerical  Life,  465. 
School  for  Scandal,   The,  5. 
Schoolmaster,  The,  22. 
Schoolmistress,  The,  4 1 . 
Scholar,  The,  355. 

Gipsy,  The,  478. 

Scornful  Lady,  The,  20. 

Scott,  M.,  65. 

Sir  W.,   62,  30c;,    314,   334 

seq.,  357-8,  377.  464,  587. 
Scriblerus  Club,  The,  46-7. 
Memoirs  of    Marti > 

47,  261. 
Seasons,  The,  41. 
Second  Mrs.  Tanqucray,  The,  79. 
Sedley,  Sir  C,  32. 
Seeley,  Sir  J.  R.,  96. 
Sejanus,  18. 
Selborne,  Natural  History  of,  53. 

Antiquities  of,  54. 

Sentimental  Journey,  A.,  51. 


INDEX. 


499 


Sense  and  Sensibility,  357. 

Sensitive  Plan/,  The,  393. 

Serious  Call,  A,  49. 

Sesame  and  Lilies,  471. 

Settle,  E.,  32. 

Seven    Lamps  of    Architecture, 

The,  470. 
Shadwell  T.,  32. 
Shaftesbury,  Farl  of,  45. 
Shakespeare,  2,  4,  10,  12,  15-19, 

20,  33,  108  sea.,  203,    261,  315- 

20,     340,    346,    353,    368,     384, 

420,  425,  450,  467. 
Shakespeare,  his  Mind  and    Art, 

90. 
Shaving  of  Shagpat,  The,  84. 
Shaw,  G.  B.,  79. 

She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  281,  283. 
Shelley,  P.  B.,  59,  278,  304,   321, 
324-5,  35°,  381-2,  387  seq.,  396, 
398-9,  443. 

Mrs.,  81. 

Shenstone,  41. 

Shepherd     of    Salisbury    Plain, 

The,  63. 
Shepherds  Calendat,  The,  98  seq., 
102. 

Week,  The,  39, 

Sheridan,  R.  B.,  45  seq.,  296. 
Sherlock.    Dr.    William    Divine), 

37- 
Shipiureck,  The,  43. 
Shirley,  J.,  22  seq.,  209. 
Short   History   of  the     English 
People,  A.,  92. 

Studies,  457. 

View  etc.  (English  Stage), 

'34- 
Shortest  way  vuith  the  Dissenters, 

The,  49  seq.,  291. 
Shvlock,  149-50 
Sidney,  Sir  P.,  8,  23  seq.,  98,  119, 

120. 
Silas  Mar ner,  465. 
Silent  Womofi,  The,  18,  133. 
Silex  Scintillans,  29. 
Sinai  and  Palestine,  95. 
Skelton,  5,  1  1. 


Skylark,  To  a  (Shelley),  324  seq. 

(Wordsworth),  314, 

324  seq. 
Small  Celandine,  To  the,  393. 
Smart,  C,  yj,  42  seq. 
Smectymnuus,  213. 
Smith,  Adam,  54. 

Alexander,  75. 

Goldwin,  92  seq.,  340. 

James  and  Horace,  61. 

Sydney,  66  seq.,  408. 

Smollett,  G.,  51. 

Sohrab  and  Rustum,  477-8. 

Soldiers  Dream,  The,  372-3. 

Solemn  Music,  At  a,  209. 

Solitary  Reaper,  The,  314,  322. 

Solomon.  39. 

Song  to  David  A.,  37,  43. 

at  the  Feast  of  Brougham 

Castle,  310. 
Songs  of  Innocence,  58. 

of  Experience,  58. 

Sonnet  literature,  2,  8,  67,  72,  76, 
119-20,120-1,  \  20  seq.,  125,203, 
211,  216,  220,  314,  317,  327. 
Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese,  72. 

Keats's  121. 

Hunt's,  67,  121. 

Milton's,  120-1  203,  211, 

216,   220 

Shakespeare's,    iigseq.y 

125. 
Wordsworth's,  121,  314, 

3*7,  3?7- 
Sordello,  444,  450. 
Sound,  Lectures  on,  91. 
South,  Dr.,  2,7- 
Southerne,  32. 
Southey,  R.,  313,    346,    353  seq., 

366-7,  376. 
Spanish  Friar  The,  244. 

Gypsy,  The,  20. 

Tragedy,  The,  15. 

Sparrow's  Nest,  The,  316,  322. 
Spasmodic  School,    The,  75. 
Spectator,      The   (Addison's),  48, 
253,  255,  256  seq.,  268. 
(modern),  88. 


500 


INDEX. 


Spencer,  H.,  93  seq.,  465. 

Spenser,  E.,  98  seq.,  120,  270,  315. 

Spenserian  stanza,    The,  106. 

Splendid  Shilling,  The,  31. 

Spurgeon,  C.  H.,  97. 

Stanley,  A.  P.,  95. 

Steel  Glass,  5  he,  8. 

Steele,  R.,  47  seq.,  253,  259. 

Stella  and  Vanessa,  47. 

Sterne,  51. 

Sternhold  and  Hopkins,  13. 

Stevenson,  R.  L.,  84,  481  seq. 

Still,  J.,  13. 

Stock  and  Travelling  Companies, 

77-8. 
Stones  of  Vetiice,  The,  470. 
Strand  Magazine,  The,  89. 
Strafford,  62,  444. 
Study  of  Sociology,  The,  94. 
Style  and   Verse    Tests   (Shaks.), 

131-2. 
Subjection  of  Women,  The,  93. 
Suckling,  Sir  J.,  29  seq.,  32. 
Surrey,  Earl  of,  2,  7,  8  seq. 
Swift,  J.,  45  seq.,  261-2,  435. 
Swinburne,    A.    C,    74   seq.,    81, 

368,  398. 
Symonds,  J.  A.,  90. 
Symons,  A.,  319,  349-5°,  355)  3^3, 

366,  373,  392,  398. 
Supernatural   Element,    The,   in 

Shaks.,    140,     145,      147,     162, 

165-6,       169-70,      175-6,       180, 

182-3. 
Supposes,  The,  8. 

ladle  Talk  (Cowper),  302. 

(Coleridge),  347,  362. 

Taine,  134,  159,  198,   230-1,   233, 

242,  255,  264. 
Tale  of  a  Tub,  The,  46. 

of  Two  Cities,  A,  438-9. 

Tales  from  Shakespeare,  361. 
Talfourd,  Sir  T.  N.,  62. 
Tamburlainc,  15,  17. 
Taming  of  the  Shrew,  The,  122. 
Task,  The,  302,  305  seq. 
'Taller,  The,  46,  48,  253  seq. 


Taylor,  J.,  34  seq.,  397. 

Sir  H.,  71. 

Tom,  78. 

Tears  of  Peace,   The,  19. 

of  the  Muses,  100  seq.,  141. 

Tempest,  The,  117,  ]  80  seq. 
Temple,  Sir  W.,  36. 

Temple,  The,  29. 

Tennant,  W.,  61. 

Tennyson,  A.,  Lord,  66,  71,  319-20, 
327,330,  393,  39S,  411, 
seq.,  448-50,  476-8. 

C,  411,413. 

■    F.,  76  seq.,  413. 

Testament  of  Cresseide,  The,  5. 

Testimony  of  the  Rocks,  The,  9 1 . 

Tetrachotdon,  215. 

Thackeray,  80,  432  seq.,  440,  467. 

Thirlwall,  68. 

Thompson,  F.,  74  seq.,  324. 

Thomson,  J.,  (1700),  41    seq.,   42, 

423- 

,  O834),  74- 

Thoughts  in  a  Garden,  31. 
on  the  Present  Discon- 
tents, 292. 
Thalaba,  353. 
Three  Estates,  The,  1 1 . 
Thyrsi's,  474. 
Tickell,  T,  40,  254-5. 
Tiger,  The,  58. 
Tillotson,  J.,  36. 
Timbuctoo,  413,  432. 
Time,  On,  209. 
Times,  The,  89. 
Timon  of  Athens,  112,  119 
Tin  tern  Abbey,  323,  340. 
Tirocinium,  300,  302. 
Titus  Andronicus,  115. 
Toleration,  Letter  on,  36. 
Tom  Cringle's  Log,  65. 
Tonson,  J  ,  48. 
Tottef s  Miscellany,  7. 
Tourneur,  C,  22. 
Tower  of  London,  The,  65. 
Toxophilus,  22. 
Tract  on  Education,  A,  216. 
Tracts  for  the  Times,  95. 


INDEX. 


501 


Traherne,  T.,  75. 
Traitor,  The,  22. 
Translations,  5,  8,    19,    61    (bis), 

106,  180,    245,  260,    303,    346, 

390,  448. 
Traveller,  The,  282,  285. 
Travels  (Mandeville's),  3. 

with  a  Donkey,  481. 

Treasure  Island,  482. 
Trench,  R.  C,  94. 
Tristram  and  Iseult,  478. 

Shandy,  51. 

Triumph  of  Peace,  The,  207. 
Trivia,  39. 

Troilus  and  Cressida,  126. 

and  Criseyde,  3,  1 26. 

Trollope,  83. 

Tupper,  M.  F.,  76. 

Turner,  C.  Tennyson,  76,  121. 

Tusser,  T.,  9. 

Twelfth  Night,  159-162. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  1 1 7. 

Noble  Kinsmen,  128. 

Paths,  The,  470. 

Voices  The,  415-6,  423. 

Years  Ago,  46 1 . 

Tytler,  P.  F.,  91. 

Tyndale,  6. 

Tyndall,  J.,  91  seq.,  423. 

Udall,  N.  13. 

Understanding,  Human,  37. 
Universal  Prayer,  The,  262. 
University  Carrier,  On  the,  203. 

Wits,  The,  14-17. 

Unnatural  Combat,  The,  21. 
Unto  this  Last,  471. 
Utopia,  6. 

Vacation  Exercise,  A.,  202. 
Valentinian,  20. 
Vanbrugh,  30. 
Vanity  Fair,  434. 

of  Human  Wishes,  The, 

268. 
Vathek,  63. 
Vaughan,  29. 
Vaux,  Lord,  7. 


Venice  Preser7/ed,  32. 

Venus  and  Adonis,  116. 

Vicar  of  Wakefield,  The,  51,282, 

285  seq. 
Vice,  The,  11. 
Vindication  of  Natural  Society 

A,  291,  297. 
Vindicicr  Gallicce,  68. 
Virgil  (Douglas's),  5. 

(Dryden's),  245. 

Virgil's  Gnat,  100. 

Virginians,  The,  434. 

Vision  of  Judgment,  The,  382-3. 

of  Mir 2 a,  The,  257. 

Vittoria  Corombona,  20. 
Vivien,  418-9,  478. 
Volpone,  18. 
Voyages,  Hakluyt's,  160. 

Wallace,  A.  R.,  94. 
Waller,  E.,  30. 

Walpole,  H.,  51  seq.,  274-5,  3°5- 
Walton,  I.,  35. 

War  of  the  Succession  in    Spain 

The,  92. 
Warburton,  53. 
Ward,  T.  H.,  247,  304. 

.  Mrs.  H.,  83. 

Warton,  T,  43. 

Water  Babies,  The,  461. 
Watson,  W.,  76. 

Watts,  J.,  42. 
Watts-Dunton,  T.,  90. 

Waverley,  336-7. 

Way  of  the  World,  The,  33. 

We  are  Seven,  317. 

Wealth  of  Nations,  The,  54. 
Webster,  J.  20. 

Weekly  Political  Register,   Th  c, 
66. 

Weeper,  The,  27. 
Wesley,  C,  42,  464  seq. 
Westcott,  B.,  96. 

Westminster  Review,    The,    89, 

464  seq. 
Bridge  (sonnet),  314. 

Westward  Ho.,  461. 

What  you  Will,   19. 


-02 


INDEX. 


Whately,  R.,  94. 
Whewell,  W.,  94. 
White  Devil,  The,  20. 
White,  Blanco,  121. 

Gilbert  53. 

H.  Kirke,  61. 

White  Doe  of  Ry  Is  tone,  The,  314, 

327  seq. 
Wiclif,  3. 

Wild  Gallant,  The,  243. 

,  Jonathan,  50. 

Wilde,  O.,  79,  91. 

Wilkins,  J.,  36. 

Wilson,  J.,  (Christopher  North) 

67  Seq.,  327,  331,  377. 
Winchelsea,  Countess  of,  39. 

Windsor  Castle,  65. 
Forest,  260. 

Winte7Js  Tale,    The,  117,  128^. 

Witch  of  Edmonton,  The,  2 1 . 
Wither,  G.,  28  seq.,  363. 


Woman  Killed    with  Kindness, 

A,  21. 
Women  Beware  Women,  20. 
Woolner,  T.,  74. 

Wordsworth,  W.,  38,  40,  75,  247, 
304-5,    309    seq.,    339,    346-7, 
3£>3,    376-7,    390,     393,     396 
398-9,  444-5,  450,  476-7. 
World  before  the  Flood,  The,  61. 
Worthies  of  England,  The,  25. 
Wrecker,  The,  481. 
Wuthering  Heights,  81. 
Wyatt,  Sir  T,  7,  8  seq. 
Wycherley,  W.,  31  seq.,  259. 

Yarrow  Revisited,  314. 

Yeast,  460. 

Yeats,  W.  B.,  77. 

Ye  Mariners  of  England,  372. 

Young,  E.,  40. 

/Jeluco,  62. 


Printed  at  the  "Cottox  Prf,S9"  57,  Harrison  Road, — CAi.crTTA 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


30m-7,'70(N8475s8)  —  C-120 


3  1158  00990  2577 


.*■ 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA      000  293  798    5 


iMSl 


■iS&i'liu&l 


Wffimi& 


f'jjif^i'^jtj^f'